I do as promised.

This shirt is 8 years old.
This shirt is 8 years old.

Last night The Neighbor came over a little past 10. Peyton was soundly asleep and I was at my kitchen table doing some work.

I was tired, but happy to see him — a new morning gig has me up at the crack of dawn every day and 10pm more feels like 4am. I just looked at him with an open expression. He felt silly and made to leave. I told him to stop and to come closer and put his bubble butt “here, in my hand.”

He came closer and I discovered he had on tight workout clothes. Unacceptable. “What’s all this?” I asked.

“Oh. I tried to workout tonight, but my leg hurt, so I had to stop.” I rubbed his legs. “I think I hurt my knee yesterday on the stair climber.” I kept rubbing. “I’m going to go lie down now,” he said then and disappeared to my room.

I followed him, thoughtful. Hours earlier, I’d gone back to my writings of March of last year and reread them all. And I was mortified.

I ached for the woman I read on the pages. She was so confused, in a lot of pain, and wrestling with burgeoning feelings for her neighbor who told her repeatedly their affair would soon end and he would date the woman of his dreams, his future wife.

I read how he’d taken the-girl-who-wouldn’t-touch-him to his best friend’s birthday party and my stomach had clenched. This year, I was resoundingly not invited to the same best friend’s birthday dinner.

Immediately I thought back to the night several weeks ago when he told me 4 am girl and his ex girlfriend were different from me because, as he said “They were his girlfriends,” and I am not and I felt small and silly and misused.

I wrestled with the proverbial kick to my gut. Had I not just written an essay about how I wasn’t afraid of loss anymore? That I was in charge of myself and my feelings?? I dug deeper.

It wasn’t a fear of loss that was twisting me up. It was a feeling of being less-than, not as important, being tucked away in a dark corner. Not right.

I entered my room and took off my pants and climbed into bed with him, my mind in a flurry. “Just so you know, I’m too tired to fuck or get sucked,” he said. He reached out his arm to me and I sighed and snuggled into his nook. “Here,” he said lifting his shirt.

“That’s ok. Me, too.”

I giggled and pressed my nose to his warm, clean skin as I would a bouquet of fragrant roses. He smelled of strawberries and skin and love. “Mmm,” I purred, shoving thoughts from my brain. “My favorite place o be.”

He pulled the covers up over my head and I was encased in a strawberry scented biodome. We both giggled.

We cuddled then and I tried to forget about that girl from forever ago who was so easily allowed into an important part of his life when I am not, but it still bothered me.

And there was more: there were two other conversations we’ve had recently that had lodged in my skin like splinters. Splinters that I strained to ignore, but became inflamed last night.

There was the chat a week ago when I asked him if his best friend knew who I was yet. The answer is somewhat ridiculous: the best friend knows that TN’s fucking a woman named Hyacinth and that TN is close friends with his neighbor. The best friend doesn’t know she’s the same woman.

At the time I was in our usual position when alone: in his arms. “Well, that’s weird,” I countered playing with his chest hair, my feelings bruised.

He became defensive.

“It’s not ‘weird,’ Hy. He doesn’t care and neither do I.”

I felt sucker punched.

And the second talk took place two nights ago when I shared a disturbing dream with him.

We lay in bed, naked, and I was filled with embarrassment and dread. He was going to propose and I didn’t want him to. Like a sunrise I was unable to stop, he drew out a little chocolate cake-ball and inside — I knew — was the ring he’d painstakingly chosen for me.

I acted surprised and grateful and slipped it on. A round solitaire, big, but not gaudy. I told him neither yes or no, but asked for some time. In truth, I needed to figure out how to turn him down.

I didn’t want to marry him because I didn’t want to inflict him on Peyton; a man who’s sworn he could never love another man’s child will not be invited to be in my child’s life in that way. Though, you’d never know it by watching them together — he seems to enjoy and care for my baby –but I figured he’d forgotten about Peyton’s existence. Our time together is rarely a threesome.

What I shared with him was that he’d proposed, I wasn’t happy about it, didn’t really trust that it was him, and then the lengthy part of the dream wherein my mother lost her shit on me and co-opted my feelings.

I knew immediately it was a mistake telling him. He tensed and seemed strange and I could hear the wheels spinning in his fat brain. I knew what the dream meant and it certainly wasn’t the desire for a wedding with him. It actually represented my growing sense of closeness with him and the inevitable decision I am going to make for the safety of my child’s heart, which is to leave. Pretty simple. But what he heard was, “HY DREAMED I PROPOSED TO HER.”

And so last night, in my strawberry bubble of sweetness, I felt compelled to bring up the best-friend-birthday-dinner-thing to ward off a an early attack of the 90-day-Hy-freaks-out schedule (I’m due in April, in case you were wondering, so these early scrambles are actually like clock work).

I told him how I’d read my old journals from a year ago and I’d discovered the note about the girl. He explained that she was actually a part of that circle of friends and that’s why she was there. Where’s my dunce’s hat?, I wondered. What an epic fucking fail on my part.

As we talked he pushed my hand down his pants, but his tight shorts were restrictive. “Take these horrible things off,” I said. He raised his hips and slid them off and pulled down his underwear. His erection sprang free and he placed my hand on it. We kept talking.

“Are you weirded out?” I asked.

“Yeah, a little,” he admitted.

“I felt I had to tell you how I was feeling. I’m trying hard to communicate with you. Are you still freaking out about my dream last night, too?”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t you?”

“Why?” I asked squeezing his cock.

“Because, it’s a little upsetting!”

“But why? I never get inside your head. You have to tell me how you’re feeling or what you’re thinking.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” he said evading the question still.

“No, because I said clearly that I did not want to marry you and that I was upset that you’d proposed in the first place, but all you’re focusing on is the proposal part and not the rest!” I sighed. “I swear, I’m cool. I don’t want to marry you and I don’t want anything to change.”

“Ok, but you have to understand how that could freak me out because of the nature of our relationship.”

I froze.

The “nature of our relationship”? What did that mean? Holy fucking shit. He still thinks we’re not together! All the breakups we’ve ever shared flashed before my eyes where we cried and my heart was ripped out; his icy blue eyes looking directly into my darker ones and saying, “I do not love you. You will never be my girlfriend.”

I cringed and took a deep breath, pretended that I totally agreed. Of course! The nature of our relationship precludes any kind of commitment or long-term feelings, therefore he has every right to be freaked the fuck out that I was dreaming about marrying him.

We cuddled a little longer. I felt stupid and like finding the nearest rock to climb under instead of basking on top of the warm rock of my lover’s body. He stood up and got dressed, tucked me in and gave me a long, easy kiss goodnight, his heart safely behind steel.

Countdown to Freakout #6 continues… also, how human am I?

These tits are 37 years old.

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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27 thoughts on “I do as promised.
  1. Shakespeare’s Venus and Adonis, one of my favorite stanzas in the long poem:

    Never did passenger in summer’s heat

    More thirst for drink than she for this good turn.

    Her help she sees, but help she cannot get;

    She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn:

    ‘O, pity,’ ‘gan she cry, ‘flint-hearted boy!

    ‘Tis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy?

    It doesn’t end happily, but maybe it does if you think about it. That hard decision, of how to combine the lives of you and Peyton with TN’s is weighing heavily. What is the point of working to accept what you have now, if you know you can’t just accept it later? You are stronger, you are ahead of where you were a year ago but its still scary I’m sure.

    1. Aw, G, how wonderful. Thank you for this! Love and relationships rarely end in rainbows and puppies; Shakespeare had it all right. They end in the destruction of something.

      I’ll be ok. I’m just freaking out. It’ll pass… Wait until I share some of the incredible things he’s said lately. xx Hy

      1. This sounds ominous.. “just wait for this shit…”

        So now that you’re aware of the cycle and he is too – have you plainly let him know that a freakout is on the horizon? Although, that may compound things eh?

        Oh, and you made my day with awesome timing. Now to live up to my end of the bargain. ;)

        1. Yes, he knows it’s coming and we’ll talk when I can’t keep it in any longer.

          The recovery from my freakouts gets shorter each time as we learn how to stay connected without being committed. I don’t presume to know what he goes through with me, I only know I KNOW he loves me and that I choose to stay with him until I no longer can. Perhaps that means when I can’t silence the voice that cries for a real commitment, I don’t know. I trust I’ll know it when I see it.

          In any case, he and I will be fine. I just need to hear him recommit in his own way to me and I’ll be fine. This is also a fine opportunity for me I focus on the good things he’s said and done and not just on the negative. I’m an asshole for always doing that and I need to quit it. :)

          Lastly, you can do it! Good luck! xx Hy

          1. Errr. Here’s a thought too, eh.

            Perhaps he’s also on a cycle, or has built one that synchronizes with your or complements it, as a processing reaction on his part too? That could be why the cycles are shorter, as he’s learning more about how he feels and the relationship.

  2. Hy It’s me again……
    I spend way too much time thinking about the nature of these types of relationships. They are never the same thing to both people.
    I remember going to my grandfathers funeral and spending the night drinking with cousins I hadn’t seen for years. We talked reminiscenced laughed and had a great time. My brother three years junior did not have a great time. Our mother died when we were young and he remembered nothing about her, our aunts uncles or much of anything. He was there but to young to remember.
    I never considered his perspective to be different than mine both as a child and that night. Because of that we grew apart. I lost a couple of years of his short life, as he died suddenly three years later.
    What I learned from this tragedy was our perspectives differ. Even if we share the same event.
    Your thoughts on something are not TN’s memories. Two different experience of the same event. Each one colored by your own expectations and past experiences.

    I have some experience living this lifestyle (D/s) and spend a lot of time contemplating the structure, results, and methods of why things work the way they do. You are on the right path, your intentions are good. In time you will come to see what the nature of your relationship with TN is all about.
    While we all have different characters and locations in our stories the themes are much the same.

    Trust in your heart, its ability to heal and be healed. Remember that it can only happen if its open to the possibilities.

    Much Love

    1. Thanks, Cruel. I just feel so SILLY. I hate these feelings, these concerns, when I haven’t even had the chance to write about even more of the incredible things he has said (they do exist!!).

      That’s my struggle here, honestly. Not that he sees us differently, but that I still wrestle with it, because of course his perception is different!!


      Thanks for this. I feel less embarrassed already. xx Hy

  3. Hy, I wish I had words of wisdom that would ease what I feel in your words. I know how difficult it can be to want, need, feel someone and yet, it doesn’t seem to be the same with them. All I can say as consolation, from an older gent that doesn’t usually voice such things out loud… “Great tit babe”…. Thanks for allowing me to share that little corner of your world. (And I hope our friend is ok, hadn’t heard anything for a while). Hugs… The Old Gray Poet

  4. Here’s a wierd angle – I thought that YOUR perception could still be static -the same as a year ago, but with the changes in relating to one another, your position on what you want needs to be adjusted to fit your new relating ways- you being dominant. In the end Hy, I can reason anything to make sense for someone but if the heart is true and strong, there’s no reasoning – there’s only getting and giving. Isn’t that the basis of what we all want, just in different measures? We want to give and get love. You do get something from him. He doesn’t call it love and thats interesting. I want to pick his brain. : )

  5. I rarely let people into my head, though at times I wish they would just let themselves in. There are the obvious fears of someone walking in on you… is the place a mess? do you have weird habits/collections, is it creepily spotless, are you sitting on the couch wanking… basically the fear lies in whether or not the viewer will accept us regardless of what they find. I’m not saying that people are hiding things. I’m not really hiding anything, but for some reason I don’t expect anyone to see my “space” the same way I do.

    As always, I enjoyed reading. Even if dreams never really mean anything, they always make you think, and with that you’ll find meaning for your heart. Sometimes it takes awhile ;)

    Thanks for the boobs ;)

  6. “It was a feeling of being less-than, not as important, being tucked away in a dark corner. Not right.” THIS. I know this… especially recently… thank you for finding the words I haven’t been able to – it’s like fresh air. xo

  7. Hy, I have to say, he seems like he’s pretty clearly defining the relationship, and you’re pretty clearly hoping for more, but every time your hope grows he finds some way to redefine exactly the way it is. It hurts you, and you go with it, but then you keep hoping for more. Honestly, you’re torturing yourself with this, thinking he’s going to be different. I know he gives you mixed messages, but then he routinely comes back and clearly defines it, like now.

    1. As always, JK, you’re spot on. I should tell you now that just because you point out the obvious it won’t mean I’ll then do the obvious. But I don’t want you to become disgusted with me when I don’t do the “smart” thing or if I wrestle with the same boring thing again and again. — Well, I guess it’s your prerogative if you do ;)

      Love hurts and I love this guy. To bits. I’ll take it on the chin and never call him a scalawag; you’re right, he’s always honest with me and I have no one to blame but me.

      And despite his words that seem to the contrary, he lavishes me with love and kindnesses greater than anything I’ve ever received from men in my past proclaiming to love me and want a future with me.

      It’s a slippery one, this tale I share.

      1. To be sure, I’d never look down upon you for the pursuit of love, even if the pursuit hurts you. Nothing in our human lives is so worthy to pursue as love. Do as you will and I’ll continue to cheer you on, be baffled by you sometimes, cringe sometimes, and smile a lot.

  8. Hy, I keep reading your thoughts and experiences in my voice — I think we’re both aware we share a few similarities (already-known impermanent relationships, in love, and new dominants, among other things). Besides that, by own voice is the only one I really know.

    So, reading you in my voice, I guess I’m wondering about what JK mentioned and what you may/may not have agreed with: “he’s pretty clearly defining the relationship, and you’re pretty clearly hoping for more.”

    Are you hoping for more? Are you hoping that he’ll change his thoughts on long-term prospects for the two of you?

    I guess reading your words with my brain, I went back to what (on rare occasion) pisses me off about J — despite the fact we’ve discussed the nature of the thing, despite my never having mentioned or asked for more (nor wanted more, really), here and again, he takes it upon himself to remind me of… you know… the nature of our relationship.

    It pisses me off. For one, I already know. For two, his “reminder” seems like a sort of response to something he perceives I’ve suggested — and I haven’t. All in all, it seems like rubbing salt in a open wound… a would I’ve opened myself and monitor daily, a wound I’m well aware is going to leave an awful scar.

    Anyway, I guess I wonder if you do really hope for more… or if the strange disperate clarity and imprecision of what he said (coupled with it’s brashness) is what hurt?

    I’m pulling for you, Hy. :)

    1. DD, I’ve been thinking about your comment for days, which is why I’m only now getting around to responding. The truth is, secretly way deep down, Yes, I hope that TN will change how he feels about our relationship, BUT I never give any outward indication of this so I relate to your “salt in wound” analogy deeply and closely.

      It’s bullshit. I feel as though I’m doing an acrobatic act to be ok with the impermanence (the SENSELESS impermanence, I might add) and the last thing I want or need is for his pert ass to remind me of the state of things between us — of which I certainly need no reminding!

      It debases all my hard work to be ok with it, frankly. Makes me waiver, reminds me of what I try so hard to not worry about. Mostly, though, it makes me feel like shit and angry. So to answer your question at the end, yes to all of it, I’m embarrassed to say.

      And I’m pulling for you, too — I’m going to comment on our last post now. It’s timely :) xx Hy

  9. “We cuddled then and I tried to forget about that girl from forever ago who was so easily allowed into an important part of his life when I am not, but it still bothered me.”

    I’m melting!

    You have this amazing ability to but the words onto paper that my empty heart is feeling. Love youuuu.

    If you live anywhere near LA can we pls be friends in real life?? Or at least text buddies? I’m trying to be a lone wolf and I’m pathetic. I at least wanna be able to text Hy when I’m sitting at a bar all alone with a dozen guys looking at me ready to pounce in not a good way! I lone wolfed it in Vegas this wknd and Fremont was not the street to stay! I was shopping in the afternoon and within the course of a couple hours had 3 creepy weird old men come up and talk to me. I feel like they were hoping I was a call girl just because I looked good.

    Oh and I’ve started my novel about the blond version of TN. The “nature of our relationships” is so parallel I just accept it as empyreal and meant to be. They’re practically the same guy, birthdays and all. Only huge difference (besides TN’s dick) is you are neighbors and I’m about as far away as can be from Blond TN. But the telepathic shit that goes on and the texting and everything non-physical has messed with my head all the same. For every physical encounter you’ve had, I’ve not had one, and it’s almost hard to read your sex parts because I’m so jealous! But I guess not really having Blond TN in my life has afforded me being able to write a friggin book about him and not worry about what he thinks when I publish it. All I have to do is change his name. Haha. And I know we’re definitely soul mates on a certain level — we’ve both helped eachother evolve and learn more of who we are. It’s a weird unconditional love.

    Anyways, thanks for being there tonight when no one else was. I love your acceptance of your situation and your courage in living in the moment. Keep it up :)

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