Archive for August, 2011

First week of sex with you I got a yeast infection. Second week of sex with you we had anal sex without lubricant and it ripped my asshole so it bled for a few days. This week I got a urinary tract infection with fever, cramps all day, and blood and stinging when I pee. I have to pee every 15 minutes. I had to take a sick day from work. Meanwhile my head: if I don’t agree with you you talk over me. You are not hearing me. You are not paying attention to signs from my body or spirit. That’s my job now – it was all along but I slacked on it. Your dick and dominating are heretofore banned.

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Thank god it is over so I can stop trying to look cute for you.

What a waste of time.

I have never met someone so superficially oriented.

Everyone else thinks I am plenty cute.

If you did any permanent damage to my confidence, I will hold it against you forever.

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I miss you caring for me. I miss that safe feeling I used to get from you, from knowing you care for me. Don’t know if it was justified, but it was what it was. Now you’re telling me that you’re off to your next endeavor, the next lady on which you will exercise the very same techniques of drawing yourself near, the techniques that once, not too long ago, made me feel so very special, and now make me feel like just another girl that crossed your path.

Most of the day you’d encounter my ego, strong and decisive, which would send you off the same way you came. But some random ten minutes every now and then you’d find me a bit sad and a bit missing those days when I was still oblivious and felt like I’m your best gal.

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Sometimes I play it cool with you, even when I shouldn’t. I think it’s because even though I trust you, part of me doesn’t trust how amazing it is being with you. Like at some point you’re going to decide that it’s too much trouble, or not going where you want it to, or… something, I don’t know, that would make you change your mind about wanting to be with me. Whatever, all I’m saying is that when we’re apart, I forget how much you love me, and it’s totally not your fault.

Oh, but being back together again… you had been back four long days before we got to see each other. I was a little nervous at first – damn that lurking, irrational anxiety. But after a little while that passed, and it felt so good just to be with you, talking and flirting and catching each other up on our summers, and walking together, your arm fitting perfectly around my shoulder. We drank wine and talked some more, and goddamn I just think you are incredible, you care so much about the people you love, even when it’s not easy, and I love that about you.

I thought maybe we weren’t going to fuck that night, we were both so tired and you were stressed out from the past couple days. Silly me – as soon we got in bed, it was on. Having you inside me felt like coming home. I think that’s why I had tears in my eyes. Thinking about the other night getting me this weird mix of choked up and turned on right now, actually. It feels so fucking good to have you around. I wish you were back for good, but oh well. I’ll probably be stoic about it, as usual, but really I am going to miss you so much.

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You walked me out to my car. I had my duffel bag on my shoulder.

I couldn’t believe we were going to kiss, yet somehow also knew it was going to happen.

I remember the feeling of dropping my bag so clearly. Car door open. Standing on my toes.

It doesn’t matter if I am 17 or 27 or 37. You make me feel magic.

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You are it. I already know it. I am so scared.

You have. Body face smile. Your skin is soft silky. It is surprising because you are muscled and built like a military tank. Fiercely manly. But you dress totally metrosexual and even kind of gay. I am bi-sexual and love women’s softness and prettiness and cleanness so you are perfect for me in this way. Silly too – you run the faucet when you pee and fart. That only makes me listen more closely to hear you fart for the fun of it. I giggle to myself how prissy you are.

You lie down gracefully, neatly on my couch naked. Ask me questions about my life my job my history. Laugh. Tease. Perfect kissing.

Same height as me. Fit perfectly into you when we are standing and holding. Or lying down in my bed or on my couch. Under you during sex I feel trapped in a beautiful strong soft cage of pounding and sweating and sighing. I think about you hear your voice and get horribly painfully horny and wet.

You care about the world and do something about it. Sacrifice. Work long hours to make sure you accomplish what you said you were going to do. Want to make whatever you do good and perfect and right. Simple man who eats simple food. Pack your backpack neatly when you visit my apartment. Sit naked at my computer. Use your big hands gracefully. Cross your ankles like a lady. Put the toilet seat down.

Love children. Have friends. Have a life. Work out all the time. Take pride in your perfect body. Follow politics. Follow the world outside. Understand culture. Love good music. Interact with beautiful women without being a pig or a dog. Deep voice. Speak softly. Just as happy to talk to me as fuck me. Always grateful for whatever crappy food I cook for you. Kiss me when you leave. Hold me. Love the paintings I do. Love my body.

I am already sad about when and how this will end. Any time now: today, this weekend, next week, end of the month, when you leave in October. I am in a cold sweat panic about it because I like you so much. Scared out of my mind.

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I’ve needed to send this for the longest time. Oh how I miss the smell of your hair and your crooked little smile. Most of all, I miss the flavor of love we shared. You made me happy. I miss the man I became while with you.

I have had the opportunity to look back, I will love our relationship even though I will not allow myself to love who you will be with someone else. I know you are not that amazing girl I hold in my heart. I will miss you and I won’t tell anyone any different. We had a love that simply rocked…it was just like the one that your grandpa gave to your grandmother… I understood what love meant…I also understood the tempered passion it takes to forgive and to move past mistakes.

I also know you will always miss me, not just for the empowered love that I gave, but for the way that I held you…for the way I touched you….for the way our time always seemed to be gone in an instant….craving was a part of our daily routine…

Being needy was an accepted part of your needs and I was happy to serve them… You have an amazing heart and I wish it happiness. I will always love who we were…most of all, I love the fact you taught me what love could be….what intimate moments were supposed to mean to me…

I had prayed to God you would reach out….you would hear my plea….you would understand that I loved you still….yet nothing…pride is such the weapon you choose against yourself. It is out of my hands. Love is worthy of fighting….for everything you’ve ever wanted and to be forgiving truly is to be in the light of God…

God’s message to you from me will be delivered on the schedule I’ve asked of Him…throughout all of your years looking forward… he will drop the hints of my love to you….he will drop a name that pulls you back to me… a smell, a light, a topic… and it will strike a memory….and it will pull your heart and mind to meet for a small second…

Somehow I have faith…when I thought I was outside of God’s grace, He has taught me to bind my love to Him and all things will be delivered… it was that love that brought me back from a damaged heart. He brought me back enough to love you the way you really wanted.

I miss your head on my beating heart when I held you… my thoughts are of you and time well spent in love with one another.


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You asked me to dance at my first middle school dance ever. I got totally terrified and told you no.
You asked me why I bothered coming to a dance if I wasn’t going to dance.
I got super nervous and sweaty and tried to avert my eyes.
I definitely should have danced with you.
You were definitely the most compelling kid I could have danced with.
Instead I just ate lollipops with my girlfriends.
I think you were actually pretty damn cool, though.
You had like, spiky hair and tattoos, which is pretty advanced badass for a middleschooler.
That was working both for you and against you in the question of me dancing with you.
In retrospect, whoops.
Next time, right?

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You were my best friend’s brother. You were one grade ahead of me. We went to a dance together. I sort of thought it was as a friend? Afterwards we went back to my house and watched a movie with our buddies. Under the blanket, you put your hand on my ass. I ran into the next room with my girlfriend to have a quick conference on the matter. Was my best friend’s brother trying to hit on me? How did I feel about that? What should I do?! I think you asked me out, but I’m not sure. We probably went to a basketball game together. High School. Bleachers. You know. You were fun and hilarious. I had known you for years. Obviously you were a good person. When I called your house, I would get confused and anxious about who I was supposed to be calling to talk to. I don’t think we ever actually went on a date. Or did anything. It couldn’t possibly qualify as dating, because I broke up with you in a note. Oh god. I am so sorry. Horrible. That is the absolute worst. I wish I could take the break-up method back, but it was so much less stressful once it was all over. You can’t really date your best friend’s older brother. You started dating a really good friend of mine soon after. You are perfect together and married now. High school is the most awkward ever. I’m glad it all worked out as smoothly as it did, despite the note incident.

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This is out of control. The two times we have met up we don’t sleep. We aren’t in our 20’s but neither of us had had sex for a year. We kissed like we were swallowing each other whole. Same with fucking. Then afterwards we talked and talked. The sun was coming up when we finally fell asleep exhausted. Then I woke up after 3 or 4 hours and couldn’t go back to sleep I was so excited and freaked out your big, beautiful bald head was on the other pillow in my bed. Talking, fucking, talking, fucking. I feel crazy. The last hour or two we were together I felt uncomfortable and tense and like I couldn’t communicate with you. The way you were talking to me felt so judgmental and like you were interrogating me. Secretly I hope it doesn’t work out. So I can sleep. And rest my sore vagina. Not feel judged and nervous about being so intimate so fast with someone who doesn’t know me or have any commitment to me. Go back to the simplicity of being single.

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