The man from Saturday, Rich Golfer, has been flirting with me and I honestly can’t figure out why.
In the harsh Tuesday morning light I look at myself and don’t see much worth physically desiring. He was drunk, that’s how he ended up in my bed, otherwise why would a gorgeous 35 year old man want my middle aged and rapidly sagging where it never used to sag ass?
It’s not the right time of the month for me to be feeling this way – I can’t quite make sense of it – except that I must still have an emotional hangover from that night.
He came and sat with Tina and me already drunk, but massively charming nonetheless. I let her drape herself all over him and flirt like she was drowning, but I sat in between them and seemed to inadvertently block any real foreplay between the two of them.
He was there for something, but he wouldn’t quite come out with it. Then he told us he’d hit a major professional milestone, a jackpot, if you will. I heard him say “multi-millionaire.”
Tina, lover of millionaires that she is, perked up and convinced him to order the most expensive bottle of bubbles on the menu then left to go to the restroom. Now just the two of us, I inquired further about the moment for him.
“I’m gonna get sad for a minute,” he said with his head in his hands, “then I’ll be ok.”
I rubbed his back a little and told him it was alright, not entirely sure what he was about to say and not wanting to get overly invested in a drunk stranger’s drama.
“I mean no offense, but today is a really big day for me and I’m spending it with two women I don’t know.”
His friends, nearly as drunk as him, had tried to pry him away to go home earlier, but he’d refused. “I never leave the house, I don’t date, I’m totally alone and I had no one to share this with. Not really. I just tagged along with them, crashed their date.” I kept rubbing his back.
“I know how that feels,” I replied. “Take a deep breath and just enjoy tonight. It’s how I do it.”
Tina returned with her signature bad attitude and the moment was over. We were at a swanky hotel after all drinking Veuve Cliquot. The tears would have to wait.
That’s not a normal convo to have with a random drunk dude.
Maybe that’s why I went ahead and programmed his name in my phone, for the simple fact that I’m sad, too. I’m sad that I’m alone and drifting, bouncing from hookup to hookup like a skipped rock on the Lake O’ Many Mens.
I haven’t programmed a name in so long I barely remember the last time. It must have been Elliot, and before that Luke? God, I don’t even know. Both men who for whatever reasons didn’t want to be with me in the end.
As RG and I fucked each other senseless in the soulless black of my room it seemed we both held on for dear life. I wept from the sheer force of pleasure coursing through my body and he acted high on the perfume of my ejaculate and cries.
He flipped me over and licked my asshole and bit my cheeks, he pounded my pussy with his cock and his hands and buried his face between my legs like a starving man with a mouth made of the softest petals.
And then he texted the next day and tried to convince me to come over so we could do it all again. Not only was I hungover and recovering emotionally, but I felt embarrassed. Would he even want me in the light of day? Is it even worth my time even if he did?
He’s tried to get me to come over each night since. He’s funny, awkward, viciously self deprecating, and from what he said at the hotel, hates his mother.
It might appear that he’s one to avoid without question, yet his name is in my phone all the same because I’m sad, too, and for just a minute I’d also like to pretend that someone cares I exist.
In my Psych 101 class freshman year of college we learned about attachment theory and I see it pop up every couple of months in cultural and psychologically slanted articles about the state of affairs in relationships. The theory, in its most basic form, is how you attached to your caregivers as a child affects your behavior and feelings in adult relationships.
Originally the researchers were only looking at it in terms of childhood development, but in the late 80’s folks began to see similarities in adult relationship styles. If you were insecurely attached to your mother, for example, you’d be more likely to display similar characteristics in your romantic relationships.
There are four main types identified in adults:
The bottom 3 are all categorized as “insecure attachment” and I — lucky me — am a couple of those: fearful-avoidant in general and romantically and dismissive-avoidant with my mother and closest friends (according to this really cool test).
“People who are fearfully avoidant in their relationships are uncomfortable depending on others and serving as an attachment figure. Moreover, they worry that others may not be there emotionally when they are most needed.” Dismissive-avoidant types “… are also not comfortable opening up to others and depending on or having others depend on them. In addition, they are not concerned with the question of whether the other person truly cares about them.”
This understanding about myself isn’t new, but it is important because it explains my total hyperventilation when men I date don’t show up in the myriad of ways one might not show up: ignoring texts, not following up after sex, being vague about plans, commitment, their feelings, etc. Dating is a hot bed of psychological torture for the insecurely attached among us. We can’t handle it and it all amounts to fear of abandonment and the push-pull dilemma of going for it or pretending we don’t care.
Enter D/s into my life. A place where I get to dictate the rules of engagement to control for my inabilities to trust others and my ambivalence to try and I feel a little calmer about things. Apparently I am also way more devastated when things go sideways, but for a brief period of time I feel goooood. And it’s worth the experience in general because I get to feel safe for a change.
Things with the Not liberal Liberal Sub have waned significantly since his visit. I have stopped texting him because I have nothing to say. He must be feeling similarly, though he did pop a text my way yesterday wishing me a happy day.
It’s just a matter of time before we alert one another to our feelings for one another. “It was lovely meeting you. I had a great time. I don’t think we should pursue anything romantic or otherwise kinky together. I’d be down for a glass of wine in London, though, if you’re around.”
So now it’s February and my self-assigned January Man Ban is over with and I’m talking to a sexy 39 yo vanilla guy that I kinda dig with ever-changing facial hair, random hot guys who aren’t really worth my time, and staring down at all my insecure attachment trappings thinking, “I got my eye on you, assholes.”
A couple of years ago I realized the benefits of applying the high standards of my D/s life to my vanilla one. As a D-type I take less shit, I may even be slightly more securely attached, and after this last experience with a demanding and less-than-self-aware sub I feel even more armed to identify behaviors and character traits I don’t want. Insecure-attachment style or not.
If what I really and truly want is a fulfilling partnership replete with kinky sex and tender love then only I can choose for that. My attachment style is the gauntlet, my will my armor. Let’s see how I do.
[Ed. Note: If you’d like to read more about attachment theory, read this.]
Late start to a lazy Friday. I’m still processing The Neighbor being in my life again, angry every time I take the dog out to shit. Seriously.
And if you don’t know why I’m upset, then I suggest just digging into all the posts about him. That is if you have a week of your life you want to lose lol. I’ve done my best to impart my feelings and provide links for the backstory, but I know that some of you are new here.
But I’m ok. I’ll be ok. Fuck it.
Although, I could do without him running around my dreams the past week. That shit sucks.
This week’s pic of me I chose because I look so damn juicy. My attitude about my body has changed drastically in the last several months and I feel so powerful, strong, and sexy. It’s a great place to be.
Sandy gave me an update and she’s doing great. I also asked if her surgery was a full hysterectomy since I couldn’t remember.
“Was only ovaries and tubes. There was extensive scar tissue which was unexpected so recovery has been slow. Only in the past 2 weeks has that road burn feeling started to subside. Still don’t have clearance to get back to my normal routine but I’ve been working one on one with one of my CrossFit coaches to work around my limitations.
I’m not going to decide on the breast stuff until some time next year. I’ll go through a few rounds of mammos and MRIs and see if anything shows up to cause concern. There’s so much controversy surrounding implants that I want to research it further. I’ve heard using your own body fat is a possible option.
If anyone is interested, prior to surgery I started BioTE hormone replacement (pellet insertion) and I have not suffered any menopausal symptoms. My sex life has been great too. (I’m actually sitting at the Dr now waiting for my quarterly insertion).”
This week has been wonderful. Pey is home with me and in my arms and my Whole30 “cleanse” appears to be helping with my pain by reducing some inflammation. I think I need to face it: I can’t live on bread and cheese and wine. What a travesty. But being able to get out of bed without crying out in pain is worth what feels like a sacrifice.
Yesterday the weather cooled off and as it cooled, my spirits lifted. I cannot stand the oppressive heat here. It suffocates me and I feel flattened, trapped. The first whiff of fall and I am floating along in the street. It makes my fantasies of moving to England spike and I open my OKC location parameters to the entire world.
Love you all.
Panicked that he was late returning to work, Peter got dressed so quickly he left his underwear behind this afternoon. His loss, my gain!
By sheer coincidence you’ll be getting two mammogram pics today! It’s my first ever and I feel really good about having finally gone. I also find it rather hilarious that Sandy and I had the exact same idea!
Speaking of mammograms, go get checked out, ladies! If you have larger breasts it’s not so bad. For you smaller chested sisters it really is as awful as you’ve heard – or so the mammographer told me. Anyway, do it!
Also, I wrote this week, but couldn’t finish it. I’ve been getting up extra early because Peyton made the Safety Patrol and we have to be at school 30 minutes earlier and that pretty much means I’ve been falling asleep at 9:30 every night like a toddler (hence the late Boobday post) because I’m old and can’t handle a mere 30 minutes off my schedule. lol
Today is a blue day for me: Peyton heads to my ex until the morning after my return from England March 23rd. Today is also the last day of being in mommy mode for nearly 4 weeks straight. I’m fulfilled, but exhausted.
Not from the parenting part – that’s been pretty incredible – but from getting up at 6 am 6 days a week, working like a dog, juggling meals, after school activities, being sick (both of us), family obligations and friends, getting ready for my trip, etc, etc.
Ho-leeee fuck. I can totally see how/why full-time single parents don’t date. I haven’t left my house unless it was child or work related. Ok, that’s a lie. I met with a couple of fellas for breakfast and lunch, but that hardly counts.
I haven’t had sex in weeks and though I’m not dead inside I certainly don’t care. I’m looking forward to London and what opportunities will come my way there to satisfy that itch. Hopefully I’ll get it scratched more than once.
1) either submit a pic to me via email (email@example.com) OR
2) submit a link below to your own blog post for Boobday.
Also, just as a reminder:
If you send me a pic, be sure to tell me if you want to be anonymous or not and what your pseudonym is (if you have one or I gave you one)
Tell me why you chose the photo you sent
And don’t forget to comment on everyone’s posts! This is all about spreading the love!
NOT my tits:
I love the textures and variance on Sandy in this image.
The boy toy was fascinated by something and took this
@miss__creant nails it with the black and white.
I’ve chosen this pic because it’s been a long while since I have removed my clothing (IG deleted my account last year) so I thought I’d get in some practice before starting up again now that I have access to IG again!