I have sweater puppies.

Fuzzy cafe latté swells in a dressing room.

I treat my pseudo-boyfriend to my breasts daily: barely awake breasts, lusty lunchtime boobs, sexy snack time tits, breasts while shopping, chatting, working. I supply cleavage to this man like a dealer with a soft spot.

He said he liked to play with sweater puppies. Naturally I spoke on their behalf, “And they like getting played with. Wanna give ’em kisses later tonight? Like at 10?”

He sadly couldn’t commit, “I may not have time,” he texted. “But I’ll be in touch later tonight.”

I smiled and moved throughout my day wondering why he insisted on vague responses. I attended meetings, mothered, made a creamy thyme risotto for me and my little one.

My last meeting, with Peyton in tow, caused us to climb the stairs at a little past 9 pm; a long day for us both.

I read books and snuggled and kissed, started a fire, removed my bra which had been doing its best to deflate my right breast with an errant underwire, and changed into my own pajamas.

I texted The Neighbor again. “No puppy-kissing tonight. But if you want to just hang out, I’m down.”

I was surprised by his swift response, “I’m at work :-( Why no puppy-kissing, though?”

I couldn’t ignore the truth: I was simply not in the mood. But instead of responding with that, I sent him a picture of my breast bathed in firelight.

“What the fuck?!?! Why can’t I have that??”

I smiled wickedly and tapped out the truth. “Oh, I dunno. Just tired. Got a long, busy day tomorrow. :)”

The other piece to this is that if I am to remain safe from myself I have to deny him, deny us. I must become unavailable so I may be available to other things: quiet time, my career, my baby, my sexual escapades with different men.

I am launching a new Hyacinth, one more like the old. This one will be a “cheater,” though no vows or promises have been made. This one will protect her home and body for herself and her young lover, but will use the world and others as her sexual game preserve and her prey, respectively. Two lives, one woman.

And then I sent him another shot of me bare-breasted in front of the crackling fire. I felt bad for him working so late. “You can come over and lay with me in front of the fire. Maybe kiss the puppies if it’s not too late.”

Naked puppies.

But he’s still stuck at work and sent a picture of a very sad man saddled with headphones glowing under fluorescent lights. “It’s gonna be a long time still,” he texted.

It’s just as well.

The thing is, I want to get to a place with him where he can’t hurt me. Not believing in forever is the theory, but the practice is much different. I don’t want it to sting when I learn he’s made Thanksgiving plans and didn’t include me, though he hinted at us spending it together before. It’s pointless and it will corrode the shine on what we’re doing with each other now.

In a couple of weeks, we’ll have been together for a year. In another year, I suspect our affair will have ended completely and I will be in another quagmire with a different man. It’s the cycle of things.

I’ve learned, suffered, loved, hated, laughed and cried rivers. It’s been a lively life the last year. Colorful and passionate. It’s been brilliantly stupid and wickedly smart. I’ve learned I crave a certain amount of abuse and rejection: it’s my greatest failing and my biggest embarrassment. It’s still a lesson.  I know I make it seem all pretty, but really, I’m just a fantastically huge idiot.

Regardless of all of it, I’m going to keep sending sweater puppies to my man-puppy.  It makes us both feel better.

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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15 thoughts on “I have sweater puppies.
  1. I swear, you are living in my head girl. LOL You’re a beautiful soul and you will deal with it daily and be fine! You take what you need and you know how to protect yourself, deep down inside. Happy Thanksgiving! P.S. I am about to send a “say what I need to say” message, here’s hoping my neighbor takes it like I mean it!!!!! It’s all good!

  2. Babe, don’t be sad nor discouraged. You are so far from where you were even 3 months ago. I know you have this under control … just a little more strength every week, and the new-old Hy will re-emerge. Plus think how much smarter the new-old Hy will be … what a catch! … beautiful, brainy, unstoppable. And did I mention what a terrific write she is? Plus … fantastic puppies.


    1. I’m beginning to think I just repeat myself (thanking you all the time and what I post in general). But, thanks all the same. We’ll see I I can pull any of this off. xx Hy

      1. Don’t ever think we get tired of reading your thoughts and experiences. We don’t! We want to be on the journey with you.


  3. Hi Sis…lol…that second to last paragraph made me want to curl into a ball and cry. How is it that you can be so inside all of our heads? What is it with the ladies being so drawn to the man-pups we cannot have? Why do we feel comfort in abuse and rejection? Pessimism?

    My questions are a sign of my adoration for you and your writing and the comfort I get from engaging with you. I called you Sis because I feel we are sisters in this journey… walking similar paths with different obstacles but leading to the same place (Fantasyland- that place where you not only have all you dreamed of, but you appreciate it too.)

  4. If by calling him “man-puppy,” makes you lower your expectations or level of dependency, trust, and respect for him…I believe you’ll move on quicker than you know it.

    To better days, Hy.

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