I am Hyacinth Jones, multi-layered, multi-moraled, multi-educated. I’m a mother of a young child, a feminist, a lover of men and a lover of love. Also, a neophyte Domme. A big supporter of women and body acceptance.
Every thought and feeling I have is bared here and you will likely become frustrated with me as I go right when you really want me to go left. My only apologetic offering to you is my lascivious, raunchy tales along the way. And boobs. Lots of boobs.
The story goes like this: In the fall of 2010, I separated from my ex-husband and began fucking my way through grief and sorrow finding solace in a cock between my thighs. When I felt bad, I went and fucked. Sad? Got fucked. Happy? Got fucked. It was a simple equation. I never thought much about it beyond the fact that I had a need and I wanted to fill it.
While doing all this liberal fucking my heart began to ice over. I ate men for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. In the fall of 2011 I hit a wall. I was formally divorced and the cocks weren’t filling me up so much as they were splitting me apart. I decided to take a snapshot of my dating life and follow those trails to their ends.
Originally, there were four men, but more than
a year 2 3 years later I just ended a relationship with, The Neighbor. The ubiquitous young man who used to taunt and tease me but finally admitted to loving me. Which turned out to be the worst thing that ever happened to us.
Some day, I’ll tell him I love him. Maybe he’ll say it back. We are in love and it is a goddamned miracle! We broke up for good a little more than a year after we shared our feelings. I’m not doing so well as I sit and write this a month later.
is was the most rewarding adult relationship I’ve ever had. He’s wonderful with my friends and my baby (who’s hardly a baby anymore) and he is a bulldog when it comes to protecting me from the elements of life. He’s a complex, interesting creature who happens to have chest hair that would make Tom Selleck proud and my heart still skips a beat when I see him walk through my door.
It wasn’t going all that wonderfully, though I felt we had a future if we could just iron out one important detail, but we never got to that point. He finally admitted he couldn’t continue to be with me while believing I wasn’t the right one for him. And so it’s done.
The Book of TN is officially closed.
My heart continues to fight for equilibrium. Life isn’t about forever — it’s about now — and no one gets to tell me how to live my life or who and how to love.
It’s better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all.
Here are some of my most commented-on posts:
I’ve made some lists, too: Rori of Between My Sheets has named me a Top Blogger 2 years running (Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2012 List and Top 100 Sex Bloggers of 2013 List) — which is a huge honor for me.
I encourage discourse, disagreements, and dialogue. You may email me privately or make everything public, it’s up to you. This is such a fucked up time in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without this space to create and be truly me: Hyacinth in all her ugly glory. I am a libertine.
libertine:a person who is unrestrained by convention or morality; specifically : one leading a dissolute life