Saturday, March 29, 2008

separating

I think that we just decided to separate.

At one point, I asked Chris "how do you feel?"

"Like my marriage is ending."

It's surreal.

I'm not really sure exactly what's happening, but I know that it feels like a relief. That may not last very long. But for now, it feels like relief.

There are a lot of things to think through. Rent here is really high, and I'll need another job. The pets are high-maintenance, and will be hard to find accommodation for.

Plus, I need to figure out if this is actually, really, truly, seriously, for REALZ what I want.

(I can tell you right now what I want - L. However.)

Also, and interestingly, we had sex twice today, and neither time was painful, and both times were after the Talk. So. There's that. That's got to be an indicator that this is the right choice.

I think I should feel guilty? Miserable?

I'm sure it will come.

Right now, I feel closer to Chris, and less resentful, than I have in years. Years.

The whole thing was so calm and non-combative. He was the one who first brought up the topic of divorce.

He doesn't want me to go, but wants me to be happy. I'm not sure if my happy is here, or out there. I have to work on that. I think I need to find a counselor, asap.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Idea

I am going to write my fictional life.

The hot, sexy one. The one that involves hours of sex in the afternoon, and seriously hot foreplay.

That life.

The one that I want.

Having all these fantasies over the last week has felt really good, and I want to keep it this way.

So. L. My fictional lover.

He's absolutely amazing in bed.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Gamble

I have been talking about sex a lot.

I've been thinking about sex a lot.

My fantasy life has been off-the-rails these last couple weeks, a non-stop lust-fest in my head.

When I talk about sex, when I talk about my marriage, it's always about how horrible everything is. The constant fighting. The rejection. The fact that I want to get laid but it never happens.

Obviously that's not the whole story - Chris and I have been together nearly a decade - 8 years! - and we do love each other and we are, in many ways, a good pair. But whenever I talk about it...

The problem, one of the problems, is that it feels so hopeless. We aren't really sexually compatible, or at least that's how it feels and that's what he's said many times. The question was posed earlier - does he know that I don't like sex when I first wake up or when I'm falling asleep? Yes! I don't even know how many times I've said it, but yes. He knows. It just doesn't factor in.

For a while I thought that foreplay would solve the problem (I still think that foreplay is a critical missing element) so I said things like "let's make out for half an hour before we have sex", because just saying "let's make out" wasn't clear enough and we ended up in the same position of kiss, grope, fuck within ten minutes and damn it, that just doesn't work for me. So I said "half an hour" Rather than it helping, it caused all kinds of problems. I was "setting too many rules" etc, etc.

Thinking about it makes me angry.

There are all these exercises we're supposed to do, things that have been given to me by counselors, or to us by the person we were seeing together. Have we done them? No.

Thinking about that makes me angry, too.

Lately I have been turned on a lot. I keep thinking about sex, and wanting it. It keeps me up at night, wakes me up in the morning.

Chris can tell something is different and he's been responding to me. I don't know how I feel about that. I feel like maybe this could be a good thing for our marriage, but then I also feel like maybe the fact that I can respond like this to someone else indicates that there's something wrong between us. And, ugh, I can't believe I wrote that and am thinking it.

I've been thinking so much about starting over. I'm not the same person I was eight years ago, and I feel trapped and helpless in my life. We've had a really bad few months, the fighting has been almost non-stop.

The day after I saw L., Sunday, I had the whole day off. This doesn't happen, ever. The last time was months ago, and the next time is May 10. Chris had plans to get together with a friend for video games - the same friend he sees almost weekly to play a whole day of games with. I asked if he would cancel and spend the day with me, and he said no.

It's not the first time, it won't be the last time, and I just can't get over it. He apologized when he realized how upset I was (but still spent the day with his friend) but I can't get over it. I can't get past the fact that he set his priorities out for me right there, like he has many times in the past. Do I want that marriage? The one where it's comfortable and predictable and passionless? The one where I'm not the priority? The one that's so good in some ways and so horribly soul-crushing in others? Is there any other kind? Can I gamble on finding something better, or do I instead gamble on making this better?

Fuck.

I have a new theme song.

Stop Thinking About It
Joey Ramone

Stop thinking about it
Stop thinking about it
Stop thinking about it
Stop thinking about it
Dwelling is driving me crazy
Obsessing don't you know where that's at
Yeh, you don't know what you want but you want it

Stop thinking about it (4x)

This world is driving you crazy
Baby don't you know where that's at
Yeh, you don't know what you want but you want it

Oh oh oh oh oh you don't know what you want but you want it

Stop thinking about it (4x)

Ahh nothing lasts forever
And nothing stays the same
Feeling numb all over
And totally deranged
When you finally make your mind up
I'll be buried in my grave

O yeah o yeah o yeah
Allright

You don't know what you want
You don't know what you need
You don't know what you want but you want it

Monday, March 24, 2008

E-mail

Every time she sent a message, it was awkward. Was he flirting with her? Did she want him to be flirting? She was certain that he found her weird at best, irritating and stalker-like at worst. She kept meaning to just drop it, leave it alone, but every time she was on her computer she checked if he was online, sent him a message. She couldn’t seem to help herself. Every message had the same subtext - “I want you. I want you. I want you.”

It shocked her, but on the off chance he felt even remotely the same, she kept sending silly messages. I want you, I want you, I want you. She couldn’t go more than an hour without imagining him. Imagining him kissing her, touching her, pushing her against a wall and having his way with her…

She was married. She loved her husband, and her husband was a good man. Their marriage was mostly comfortable - they didn’t have sex often or well, they fought a lot, but it was the way it was. Normal. Routine. She thought she was okay with that, okay with her sexless life and the predictability of it. She hadn’t been looking for anything, but she had definitely found it.

Since meeting L. her dreams had become vivid and erotic. Her stomach flipped just thinking about him. She came up with plan after plan for how it would work out.

They would go for coffee. His foot would find hers under the table and she’d catch her breath, look down at her cup, slowly feel inch after inch of leg sliding between hers. In her fantasy all it took was one brief touch and she was melting into her chair. Then his hand would brush across hers. Their eyes would lock. They would both breath deeply, continue talking, his thumb stroking her hand, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded, both thinking the same thing… and then they would be in the parking lot and his hands would be on her waist, her arms around his shoulders, her hands in his hair, his tongue in her mouth, probing, pressing, his body pushing her back against the car…

They would go to a movie. Their knees would touch in the crowded theater, and then their hands just barely brushing past each other… an accident, and then not an accident, and then his hand on her leg, his arm around her pulling her close, brushing the top of her head with his mouth, taking a breath, nibbling at her ear as she tried to stay quiet as a mouse, her hand sliding up his leg…

They would meet in the park. Walk for a while. Stop to observe the scenery or tie a shoelace or just… stop. He would be behind her, she would feel him there before he even touched her, his hand resting gently, hesitatingly on her waist. She would lean back, inviting, and his arms would slide around her. Quiet and slow and delicate, testing the waters. They would keep walking, holding hands, talking. When they finally kissed, it would be electric and unstoppable…

She ran over each scenario time and time again. Sitting at the table for lunch or dinner she would suddenly have a flash of desire and suck in a deep breath. In the shower she imagined him walking into the room, seeing her, wanting her.

It was all fantasy, though. She sent him e-mails and hoped for flirtation but just got blunt and impersonal responses. Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Sometimes his responses seemed to have some subtext… he called her “hun” and “babe” and every so often a message would catch her sideways and she’d feel the now-familiar flip and be pulled into a fantasy of sex and passion.

She thought maybe she was addicted to the fantasies. Her fantasy life had been so barren for so long - the arousal lasting only as long as the story or movie, seemingly incapable of inserting herself into even the most simple daydream. But this… this was heady and overpowering. She couldn’t pull herself out of the fantasy, and she loved it.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Old Friends

Ann’s life was good. She had friends, a great career, and was generally pretty happy. The only thing missing was romance, but she didn’t have time for that anyway. It’d been years since she’d even noticed guys on the street, let alone pursued anything. Sometimes she missed the passion and the thrill, but most of the time she was too busy to notice.

She’d gotten an e-mail earlier in the week from an old friend, wondering about getting a bunch of the old high school group together. She had a free afternoon after teaching her outdoor classes and was going to be in that part of the city anyway. She had no idea what she was in for.

She felt a tingle as soon as he walked in the door.

Their eyes locked for a split second and she caught her breath. He looked nothing like the gangly teenager he’d been ten years earlier. In a leather bomber, black t-shirt and jeans, he was tall, muscular, and gorgeous. Before she knew what was happening she was imagining running her fingers through his hair. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and bent to examine her boots.

He sat beside her on the couch and she was acutely aware of his leg just inches from hers. She was confused by the intensity of her reaction - usually she was so cool and collected!

The mini-reunion of their high school group was in honour of his few days in town. They chatted briefly, but she couldn’t stay long. As she got up to leave, he grabbed his lighter and came out with her.

Standing outside, she looked everywhere but at him. Every time she caught his eye, her breath caught in her throat. His lips were so luscious, so kissable. His hands were so masculine, she imaged them on her hips, her stomach. She was trying hard to stay cool, but she was desperately wishing she’d tidied up a bit more before coming. She hadn’t expected to be knocked over like this.

They made noises about getting together before he left town, but his girlfriend was flying in, her schedule was tight… When they hugged goodbye she broke away quickly, afraid that one more second of contact would make her do something stupid.

On the way home she couldn’t stop thinking about him. He looked so fucking gorgeous, and she couldn’t get him out of her head. She was imagining things she hadn’t thought about in months, years! It had been ten years since high school, and she’d spent a total of an hour with him, but somehow that had been enough to imprint the deep brown of his eyes in her mind, and she knew intimately the broadness of his shoulders, his height. She could imagine his kiss - smokey and deep. She could imagine a whole lot more than his kiss, if she tried.

The minute she got home, she sat down at her computer and opened her e-mail program.

“L -
It was great to see you this afternoon, sorry I had to rush off.
I’m working on my portfolio and I’d love to take your portrait. I’m willing to bribe you - dinner, drinks, you name it, I’m easy. What’s your price?
A”

Her stomach flipped. He had a girlfriend. He probably wasn’t interested. Still, it was just a photo shoot. He’d probably say no, anyway. No harm. She hit send.

Later that night, her program pinged.

“One kiss.”

A sudden rush flooded her.

“Done.”

When she finally got to sleep, she slept well. Her dreams were delicious.

-

Two days later they met in a picturesque park on a perfect day. The sky was dotted with white clouds, the air was warm, the light was perfect. She didn’t ask how he’d found time in his schedule, away from his girlfriend. She didn’t mention the meetings she’d cancelled.

As he got out of his truck she took a deep breath.

“So,” she said, nervous, “do you want payment now or later?”

She looked up and saw him gazing at her. His eyes were dark and deep and he leaned slightly forward before cupping her head in his big, calloused hands.

“Now.”

His lips covered hers and she melted against him. His black hair felt as soft under her fingers as she’d imagined, and her knees weakened as his tongue pressed gently but insistently against her lips. He tasted like cigarettes and coffee. His hands slid down her back and pressed her body against his. She could feel him harden against her stomach, and the kiss seemed to go on for hours. She hadn’t been so thoroughly kissed in years.

She finally broke away from him with a gasp, but her hands lingered on his chest for a moment.

“I guess we better take some pictures” she managed to choke out past the tightness in her throat.

“I guess so” he replied. He still tilted his head the way he had in high school, still smiled a little crooked. But he definitely wasn’t a teenager anymore, and neither was she. She bit her lip and smiled before turning away.

Looking at him through her lens he was even more handsome than she’d realized. Every so often they would touch, shoulders brushing as they walked to the next location, his hand on the small of her back as she hoisted herself over a log or boulder. Every touch sent an electric shock through her body, and she thanked the bright sun for allowing fast shutter speeds to hide the shake in her hands.

An hour later, he was sitting on a rock and she was trying to frame the shot. It just wasn’t working. He didn’t turn his head right, his hands were wrong… She came over to manually pose him like some kind of mannequin, laughing.

She touched his chin to move his head slightly and suddenly his hands were on her hips, pulling her onto his lap and his mouth was on hers, his tongue probing deeply. She moaned into his mouth and molded herself against him. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and his hands slid effortlessly up her shirt.

He lifted her up, her legs wrapped around his waist as he moved to the grassy meadow. They lay down in the grass and he began to unbutton her shirt.

“This is more than one kiss” she murmured, gasping as his thumb grazed her nipple.

“I’ll let you take as many pictures as you want” he replied “but I’m going to have you right now.”

She pulled his shirt over his head and marveled at his perfect torso.

She grinned up at him, mischievous. “If I’d known you were going to turn out so well, I never would have passed up the opportunity all those years ago.”

He didn’t reply except to lower his head to her neck and drop kisses from her ear to her collarbone. His tongue flicked across her sensitive skin, leaving lines of fire. His jacket was soft under her back, and she arched up against his mouth. His hands were working at her belt, unzipping her jeans, pushing them past her hips.

She hadn’t felt like this in years.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

Aftermath

"Are you having doubts about our marriage?"
"... I don't know..."
"That's a yes."

"Maybe we don't want to have sex. Maybe we reject each other subconsciously because we want to hurt each other."

"We're not sexually attracted to each other anymore."

"You may be comfortable with yourself and your sexuality, but you're not comfortable with me."

It was a long day. It went something like this -

We woke up, no alarm clock, happy and rested. We snuggled, he had "morning wood", we joked around, kissed, got up.

In the kitchen we made out. Danced around the topic. I didn't want to have sex yet, sleep shuts my libido down, but I was open to the idea later. It was unspoken, but it felt okay. We spent the morning hugging, touching, kissing.

We went our separate ways for a couple hours. I came back downstairs, feeling ready. Awkward - I don't do this often -

"I think we should..."
"What?"
"You know..."
"Get groceries?"
"No!" laughing
"Go out for dinner?"
"No... you know..."
"What?"
"Have sex!" catch in my throat, nervous
"Oh."
"It's okay if you don't want to. I won't take it personally."
"Okay."

Fizzle. He was tired, hungry, didn't want to. But it was okay, we were still having a good day. Things were tense, but not terrible.

We had a nap. I didn't want to nap, naps make me cranky and sluggish, but I did want to snuggle. We napped. The alarm went off. He wanted to have sex. I didn't. Before sleep or after sleep I have a really hard time getting turned on.

I said "I'm sleepy, I have a headache, not right now."

He said "Are you sure you don't want to have sex today?"

I said "I already asked you to have sex! I do want to have sex. Just not right now."

He kissed me. And kept kissing me. I turned my head away, tried to snuggle into his neck. It made me angry, I felt like I was just a body. Eventually we got up.

Did our own thing for a while. He was seething, I was confused. He made dinner. I half-heartedly tried to initiate sex. I did feel better, and I did want to have sex, but it wasn't sincere like it had been earlier. He was angry, upset that I had rejected him twice, didn't want anything to do with me.

We spent the evening in opposite corners.

When we spoke, it was ugly.

"Are you having doubts about our marriage?"
".... I don't know..."
"That's a yes."