closer

Let’s see if I can pull this off.

I warn you: it might be a bit disconnceted.  It’s been a quite  some time and it might take me a little bit to find the groove.  This is the third attempt today.  I have logged in, and typed utter nonsense kind of like this, and promptly shut the screen proclaiming “i can’t do this”.

My heavy sigh would fill the void for a short moment, then the next thirty minutes would be spent kicking myself mentally over the reasons that caused the emmitance of the sigh.  Arggggg.

So here I am for the fourth time today, and I’m not giving up this time.

As I was gazing upon 12 little toddlers just recently hushed and patted to sleep, I sent this text:  A.D.I.D.A.S.

Maybe it had something to do with the Rock-A-Bye-Baby version of NIN “Closer” playing in the background…..

????? was the reply.  Back when I was in middle school that was code for “all day i dream about sex”

Hence my reply with the added, “with you” on the end.

Here I am making my way back into this, as he is sitting less than two feet away from me toiling away over circuit analysis.

He is not having his way with me in a beastly manner as the aforementioned song refers to.

*sigh*

Blooms

It’s just like anything else positive you step away from, you simply decide to make time for it once again because it made you feel good.

I want to come back to this realm.  I feel like writing again.

That needed to be written.

I will be back tomorrow.

Silver

You would think with all the free time I have had in the last month or so that I would have been writing,  taking up knitting,  learning something new, or at the very least keeping up with my cohorts via all the various social networks…

Obviously there were no posts.  I have the beautiful yarn that forgives mistakes, as well as nice needles, yet no real interest in learning that skill at this point in time.   I joined a local sex-positive center to get the fringe benefits of lectures and classes, such as a class on rope skills in the bedroom.  good stuff.  Although the first time we went to a little intro party, I was just standing around all gussied up wondering where all the young, pretty people were.  It sounds shallow for sure, and on some levels I’m ashamed of myself for admitting that, yet I really did not want to see what I witnessed there that evening…aesthetically speaking that is.

I do check one of my social network accounts once in a blue moon.  To my delight I have found a few friends that were missed.  The friends we all have, the ones that you did not hang out with all the time, the ones who fell outside of your base social network, yet were an important part of your life.  You got drunk with them every other weekend for two years.  You connected.  You moved on, they moved on, you would see them maybe once a year.

It feels nice.

I’m so far away from everyone I adore outside of my core family.

Thank gosh for the internets.

New Game

As I was slipping on my boots, and lacing my garter I felt suddenly old.

It had been nearly three weeks, yet I was still at this take-it-or-leave-it stage.  He was too.  We were going through the motions.  The striking absence of static in the room made my heart heavy.  Sad.

Was he feeling the same way?  I’m not kinky enough anymore.  I don’t top much.  When I do It’s not enough.  Have I put on weight?  Am I too domestic these days?  I neeed to learn some new tricks.  I need to be a better dom.  I need to take things over the top like I used to 5 years ago.  He wants to find someone who can share the same headspace as him in the bedroom, someone who understands him better than I.  I felt very sad as these thoughs rushed all at once.

It didn’t work.  He could not stay aroused long enough to get anywhere with our time together that evening.  We masturbated, and talked about it later.

We talked about his ever waning libido, and the possibility of obtaining some of those little blue pills.  My suspicions were also true….we have to push the envelope.

We need to dive deeper into his fetish.

Our rubber standard, our version of vanilla has grown tiresome.

It’s the exact same thing every long- standing couple goes through.  Sure, by other peoples standards our normal sexual routine would look like a complete freak show.  But it’s not.  It’s our standard.  We used to be satisfied.

I gave him a shopping list yesterday:  nice rope (much quieter than chains), a few yards of leather (to make new straps, and belts), latex murder gloves, latex opera gloves, records for the phono (his choice), and some new clips.  And a p.s. to rent us a hotel/motel room for a few hours in the near future.

It’s about damn time.

Sunny Day

Much of my silence has been due to utter discontent.

Lack of progression.

Dung for brains employers.

Feeling lost outside my home.

Thank goodness for like minded folk!  To clue you in quickly….

I gained employment as a Pre-school teacher three months ago.  It was awful.  Too many kids, too many hours, too corporate.

My dear housemate has a sister with a masters in Elementary Education.  We live in Seattle…she can’t find a job as a Kindegarden teacher, for the last three years.  It’s brutal here.  Too many displaced teachers.

She floats at a little Lutheran school.

“P, there is an opening, you gotta send your resume.  You are already a shoo-in…I told them you were perfect.”

So I did.   Two weeks went by and I was sure they had hired some one else.

Long story short.  I was perfect.

The play date was flawless (and i had a fucking blast!).

I met the director in the kitchen, she hugged me tight and said, “Penelope, we would love to welcome you into the school.”

The warmth was overwhelming, yet so familiar and fantastic.

I wound my arms around her welcoming embrace, and gratefully replied, “I’m honored to be welcomed.”

I’m actually worried that I won’t want to leave.

How crazy is that?!

A few words…

I will be back soon.

I don’t really feel much like myself during the week.  It’s very much a grind.  With no friends to meet for coffee, or to invite over for dinner or drinks during the week….it’s just a routine.

The weekends are good.  I’m fun again.

I sleep as late as I want, make big yummy meals, act silly, go for motorcycle rides at 2am., get a little tipsy, have sex, talk about the future, go for hikes with the squids, read for pleasure, and call my friends and family back home.

I’m treading water, and that is something I can do, it just always felt a little pointless.

Dance This Mess Around

I’m busy these days.  As most of you can claim the same.

It’s been over a week or so since I have actually looked at anything other than my little blogroll to see what my cohorts have been up to.  No stats have been checked, and no posts have been written.  I was more than shocked to see that I received an obscene number of hits on the sixth of this month.  I’m simply too tired to track down the reason why.  I’m sure I should be thanking someone for a link, wink or nod.  Or possibly cursing them…did’nt really think of that.

Well now that I’m here perhaps I should share some.

Friday night after the squids went to bed we decided to head out for a drink with Jake’s business partner Clyde.  He just bought a Ducati Dark Monster, which is the only sport bike (so far) that I would consider owning.  It’s fucking fast, and it looks sexy as hell.  He and Jake bought a BMW/6 two months ago so Clyde could learn to ride….we knew he would want a bigger bike, which meant I would then step up from my little Honda Dream to inherit the BMW.

I knew what was comming.  Jake would ride the Ducati and a deep seated lust for the speed and agility a bike like that can offer would grip him like a vice.  He tossed and turned all night long after taking it for a spin.  It sounds silly, but I’m being as serious as a heart attack.  The moment he woke up he was on Craigslist looking at bikes.

“Baby, I gotta have one.  I think the Aprilla’s are better bikes.  Look at this one!”

We sat down and discussed it seriously.

This is what it boils down to:  motorcycle=sex.  It always has, it’s simply an extension of our sexuality, as it is for most people I’m sure.  If we graduate to these super bikes, we get to purchase all new gear.

And the gear is superb.  One piece leather suits, european helmets that I can’t seem to track down for less than $500, boots, and new gloves.  Smoking hot.  Smoking hot sex when we get home from a ride.

So back to where I started…we went out Friday night, and we took the bikes.  Jake looked at me with a gleam in his eye I know all to well.  We were gonna fly, lest he be outdone, he has skills after all.  He couldn’t compete with the speed but he could certainly out maneuver him.

The club was a total throwback from the early 90’s goth/industrial scene.  I was struck by it’s majestic architecture, and surprised that it managed to exist in the heart of downtown…or anywhere for that matter.

The music the DJ was playing was like nothing I had ever heard before.  I recognized the base beats, which were Jungle style, but it was crazy aggressive.  I wanted to dance so badly, but there was just no way I could even begin to wrap my body around the sounds.  So I watched the two men dancing.  There fists were spinning, arms were flexing in and out, and their feet just shuffled their bodies from right to left.  It was a controlled frantic state.  Crazy.

That was the first night out…the start or our winter warm-up.

Panties & Pastimes

Strangers

I have a lot of time on my hands.

I’m almost done with feeling sorry for myself…

“You don’t know what to do..there is a game now, there is a game for you..even if it breaks your heart.”…Cut Copy

I can make a lot of money real fast doing what comes natural.

I like watching.

Bout’ Time

Gosh, it’s been a bit.

Every day I think about writing a post, and as each day passed it was that much easier to blow off.

Lets see if I can bring everyone up to speed…myself included.

Last I left off was right around the time I got that job, the one where I was the bar manager.  That didn’t work out so well.  I was brilliant, as brilliant as a bar manager can be.  My boss was not so brilliant.  Nor was he the sort of person I like working for.  About one week ago, (on a very typical Seattle weather day, gray and rainy) I was barked at for the last time.  I shook his hand gracefully, smiled, and wished him good luck.  I turned and walked tall as an evergreen to my car.  Good for me for not putting up with any of that b.s.

I was two blocks away from the parking lot when my chest caved, when the air in the compartment of my car was gone, when the snot began to drip, when my face was suddenly drenched, when I felt defeated.

“Don’t worry, you are gonna have 5 or 6 jobs before you actually find one that fits.  It’s just how it goes out here.  Everybody goes through it as a transplant.  Never stop looking for something better, just keep putting your various resumes out there.”

This was what one of my neighbors told me last week over wine, cookies, and a meet and greet with our children.  She had a point.  Jake told me the same thing months ago, I guess I just choose not to heed his words.

Anyway, I’ve got so many fucking resumes out there I have lost track.  Only one in the service industry…a cupcake slingin’ barista in the hip part of town;)  All the others are slanted towards my future field.

So that’s the job drama.

It’s crazy but I’m content.

All of this feels really good.  It’s change, and it feels spot on.