Me and the bullshit I write

More of me

I don’t think of myself as a bad person. I struggle everyday with my bad decisions.

I have little regret regarding the things I like sexually. That doesn’t mean I feel good about myself afterwards.

In the past 10 years I have had four partners, not because I couldn’t go out to any bar and leave with whomever I chose but because I do believe in emotions being tied to sex. I sometimes wish that I didn’t. Life could be so much easier.

Labeling myself as a paramour was one of the worst decisions that I have ever made. I had never been with a married man. What was worse is that I knowingly did this as I was ending my own marriage.

My marriage ended because I could never trust him after I discovered his online life and his cheating ways. I firmly believe if you choose monogamy, you stick to it or end it. No grey areas.

I know that I couldn’t handle the black stains I was making on my soul. It wasn’t the sex or the games, it was the fact that I was the reason that someone I loved felt like a piece of shit when he went home to his loving wife and child.

Like I feel like a piece of shit laying here months later all alone.

Me and the bullshit I write

Me again

Tonight never happen.
It was for a good reason.
I don’t blame him, he was being responsible of my feelings.

That got me to thinking.
M was a true fucking sadist. I really think he got off on destroying me not just physically but more emotionally.

The short story of our last time together….

It was short notice, not well planned. I had plans with friends and had the next day off. When he showed up I was very wine drunk and feeling good. I had on the same outfit I do right now, my sexiest and classiest.
I gave him permission, no limits, no safe words, he could break me.
I was ready. Within a minute I became stone cold sober.
One stipulation, he stayed and took care of me afterwards.
I was bruised, beaten, turns out later 2 broken ribs.
He received many texts from his wife. In short he left. I was fine for about an hour, then the afterglow left and the feelings of being a whore and unloved set in.
He checked up on me later, I pretended to be fine, he face timed the next morning I did the same. Pride wouldn’t allow me to let him see how he effected me.
He told me he needed time to think. He wasn’t comfortable with the side of him I brought out and how it was effecting his life.

A few days later he sent me a message and I told him it had to end I would destroy him. He had already destroyed me.

Side note: I had to tell coworkers I fell down a flight of stairs, I couldn’t hide the pain in the weeks that followed.

So tonight was postponed because he thought of me. He didn’t want to run out on me, it was a time issue. I’m hurt, disappointed and at the same time so proud that he was that thoughtful of my feelings.

It gives me hope.


Me and the bullshit I write

Just me

When I was a teenager I loved to inflict pain, both physically and emotionally. It wasn’t healthy. This was my way of getting even with all of the abuse I suffered.

It took me until my late 30’s to understand that part of my life.
For about 10 years I had a really vanilla existence and my sex life was horrendous.

When m came back into my life for the third and final time he reminded me of what sex should be. He consumed me, he possessed my every thought, he made me wet 24 hour everyday.
He made me realize that what I needed was a man that was so demanding, possessive and controlling that I could just loose myself in him. He made my mind quite. I could feel without thinking.
In the end overthinking is what killed our relationship. I sabotaged it, I ended it.

I did this to myself


Me and the bullshit I write

Tuesday 5am

I was debating last night what to tell you about today:
The first time we met
The second
The third
The end
The best adventures
The numerous games
The hundreds of very public orgasms

Then when I woke up this morning I found a text from a concerned friend.

She was worried about how thin I have become. When I posted the picture I really didn’t notice. I thought I just looked extremely pale, tired and maybe a bit fragile. I was raised with a motto of never too rich, never to thin.

As I’ve said before, I am a functioning adult. That’s not to say I do not have illnesses. My eating disorder has always been prevalent. I have OCD, always have. These control issues have actually made me extremely good at my 9-5 job.

When we were together I was healthy. I felt so secure and sexy. I was wanted. He built me up. I went to the gym 10 hours a week. I ate only healthy organic food, tracked my calories. This was all because I need to be strong for him. There was a very large size difference and I feared I would be physically hurt by many of the things I asked for.

Now I have no need to be strong. I want the world to see my weakness. I eat maybe once a day, I do 5 hours of yoga a week(just to keep my anger under control). I enjoy the pain this causes. It’s a feeling I give to myself, my way of taking back the control.