My orgasm made me cry.

I saw The Neighbor last night.

It’d been a while since we’d sat across from each other.  He’d taken up a lot of conversation when Ann was here and then emotional space when I saw his fancy black car speed off ahead of us on Sunday afternoon.  My gut had ached with sadness and loss.

Once alone Sunday night there was a thick stillness about me, about my life.  I went from full-throttle socializing to zilch, nada, nothing.  I felt hungover and desperately alone.  I contemplated texting him.  I contemplated texting the Bad Texter.  But a cooler head prevailed.  I sat with my sadness instead.

And then I sat with it Monday, too, sunken in my mattress surrounded by furry, sighing bodies until it was time to get my two-legged baby from summer camp.  Tuesday rolled around and I was bereft, like an empty cage I felt stiff and skeletal.  Then, yesterday, I went to a friend’s house to sit with her.  Something had changed with her live-in boyfriend, she said.  Sunday, out of the blue, he said he was moving into an apartment.  Monday she changed her will and is now waiting for him to get the rest of his things.

I remembered that feeling the morning The Neighbor told me, “And I don’t want to.”  Those 5 words that ended our relationship.  … and I don’t want to be with you, Hy.  … and I don’t want to be in a relationship.  Just like that.  But I’d known that was going to happen when he’d asked for a break.  Who ever recovers from a break??

So on my way to her house knowing I was going to learn something about the end of her relationship I caved and texted him.  A simple Hi, no punctuation.  Immediately he texted back, “Hey!”

We chatted for a bit and agreed we should see each other that night.  As I sat with my brokenhearted friend I thought about my own broken heart and the man responsible for it.

I’ve learned a lot about myself in the 4 and a half months since we broke up, namely I’m capable of keeping my shit together.  After I left my husband I was sloppy, a wet dishrag of a woman.  This time, I was collected and focused.  I waited to date, albeit not long, but I am built for contact.  I wither away out of reach from rays of men.  Collectively, my experiences have been mostly good, but sadness courses through my veins nonetheless.

I’ve also learned that I desperately want to connect dots that might be better left alone.

The knock on my door made my heart skip a beat.  As always.

I opened the door and he smiled and we hugged.

“You smell really good,” I remarked.  “Is that the cologne I bought you?”

“It is.”

“Damn, I have good taste,” I quipped.  It made me happy to know he still wore it.

He declined the wine I opened and we went outside to talk.  We caught each other up and then I said, “So, I thought of you today.”  He looked at my quizzically.

“I used that giant dildo you got me and my vagina burned.”  His eyebrows shot up and we burst out laughing.  “That’s right, I don’t think you’re allergic.  I Googled it and apparently those jelly toys are basically poison.”

“Wow,” he laughed some more.  “Well, that’s nice to know!”

What I didn’t tell him was that I had cried while that giant, poisonous dildo was buried deep inside of me because it reminded me of him, of the way he would twitch inside of me as the Hitachi buzzed on top of me.  It reminded me of his scent and his warm skin, his lips on mine and the way he’d grip my breasts as I came.  I felt the tear slip into the shell of my ear the same moment the orgasm tore through my body and I sobbed with longing and loneliness.  My orgasm made me cry because I still love him; it’s a ghost limb.  A reminder of something that used to be.  It doesn’t exist today.

Watching him across the patio table last night I was reminded of all the other nights we’d spent like that as lovers.  How after a night like last night we would end up tangled in bed, sweaty and filled with lust.  Last night ended with a long, warm hug of promises to keep working on our friendship.

We struggle, but we keep plugging along.  It hurts him to know I’m dating, but he understands I no longer want to pretend that I’m not.  I will let him know if anyone becomes important.  He promised the same, though he hasn’t been out with anyone since our split.  Oh, how I wish I were more like him; to be able to be alone and safe for such long periods of time.

So we keep picking ourselves up and plugging along.  Laughing and learning and hurting and being angry at one another on occasion.  I think it’s worth it 5 out of every 7 days.  I guess those are pretty good numbers.

He’d scoffed a little when I told him how Amy and Tina were both still seeing their exes. “What?” I asked, “We still hang out,” I pointed out.

“True,” he said, “true.”  The big difference between The Neighbor and I and my two best-friends and their ex-boyfriends though is that he and I don’t have sex.  We have maintained that line and I am both proud and saddened by this.

He asked if we could hang out this weekend and I said we could.  I’m hopeful that last night relieved some lingering doubts I had clinging to me about our relationship, both past, present, and future.  I hope he’s hopeful.  And I hope that my ghost love for him won’t present any barriers too high to scale as I look for new love to fill my life.

Because I really do want love.

 

 

 

A 40-something single mother who writes honestly about sex, body image, D/s, relationships, her nervous tics, and how much she loves to fucking fuck. She also likes to show you her tits.

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17 thoughts on “My orgasm made me cry.
  1. I sure hope hanging out with him goes well. Thinking about it makes *me* a nervous wreck. I’ve been in similar circumstances and while the interaction makes me feel good for a little while, I end up with, as you said, a hangover. Remember what you want (love). I believe you will find it.

  2. Hy i am so proud of you! U have become so very strong! U said yourself that after your husband you were a “sloppy wet dishrag of a woman” & look at you now, how far you have came from that person. As much as it hurts, you manage to maintain that “super woman” physique. I idolize you on so many levels & for so many reasons. I accidentally came across your blog while i was trying to teach myself to squirt (which i have done, with much practice but can only spurt out a few shots , nothing compared to your beautiful waterfall lol) but ive been hooked on your writing from that day on. Your writing gives me ambition and motivation to rebuild myself from a 20yr marriage/relationship. Im 38 & have 3 wonderful kids with this man and recently while in detox for alcohol he met a female 10yrs younger then he (40) is who was detoxing from methadone the relation turned sexual and continued for 4 months after they got out of detox. We have since been trying to recover from that and at this point i dont think i will ever recover from the betrayal esp bcus he goes on as if it never happened, no remorse what so ever. My point is, and i apologize for going on and on (this is my very 1st comment as well), i wish that i could find the inner strength and courage, as you have, to start a new life away from him. Everyone who knows me says im the strongest woman they know bcus of everything i have been through with and bcus of this man i love but have become ao co-dependant upon. I have no idea where to even begin. Im so very sorry your hurting bcus of the neighbor, but you have come so far and have so much to b proud of, i know that you will repair your heart and continue to grow

    1. Thanks, Kristina! I’m sorry for your struggles with your husband. Take it from me, though, you DO have the inner strength to do whatever it is you want. You’ll see. (Hug)

  3. Aw my heart. I don’t know how you see him. You’re unbelievably strong. I could maybe text but not hang out. You’re amazing.

    I hope you find love too Hy! Sweet, passionate , hot as fuck love.

  4. Good luck!
    Just make sure that hanging out with him is not a quick fix of what used to be your favourite drug.
    I say good for you for not having sex already, that’s a good first step (what does it say that I started to type sex? Talk about a Freudian slip!).
    I know that for me seeing my ex is out of the question. But that’s because he’s an ass.
    I have 0 experience in regards to seeing past lovers, so won’t offer advice.
    Just sending hugs because I hear your hurt.
    XOXO
    (and I *did* offer advice, didn’t I? Sigh, forgive me, it’s really getting too late here, I’ll pay for it tomorrow!)
    Dawn D recently posted…Mental illness is just that, an illness…My Profile

  5. Damn, this gal in the story is so horny that it made me hard!!! 🙂 If I was her neighbor, I would definitely do her. Well, it depends how old she is because I am in my twenties; I would not want to do a granny, lol!!

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