He brought me bacon.

It’s been nearly a year since I told The Neighbor I loved him.  A year of more lows between us than highs, honestly. Saying those three stupid words changed everything.

We went from exalted fuck buddies to a couple hammering out expectations and responsibilities basically overnight.  And it’s been really ugly.  He’s an island unto himself — a little squat cactus in my mind — and I am this ball of needs and changing moods, not temperamental, but in motion all the time — an orchid.  We are an unlikely pairing.

I’ve suffered from massive attacks of doubt and suspicion; he’s wrestled with his apathy and worry; our sex life isn’t what I want; I don’t think he’s cum because of me once this year; I feel unimportant; I imagine he feels beleaguered; I’m fantasizing about other men, other lives I could have.

On the other hand we’ve also grown more intimate.  I know him better and him me, he’s a bigger part of Peyton’s life.

And yet, we both agree we’re barely dating.

Last night marked the first time in 3 years that I asked to be alone, away from him.  After a 12-hour day I was down to the bone.  I didn’t have it in me.

He quickly came to my side in the kitchen where I was making us dinner and generously using the last of my bacon for him.  “Hy,” he said, inches from my face and holding my hips, “why not?”

I looked him in the eye and replied, “Because it makes me anxious all night that you don’t really want to be here and sad that we haven’t fucked.  I don’t like it when you drug yourself before even discussing it with me and you’re grumpy in the morning.  I want to cuddle with the dog on the bed and with the kitty and have an easy morning.”

“I wasn’t grumpy this morning, was I?”

“No, but that’s rare.  I’m just tired of it and don’t have it in me tonight.”

“You’d rather sleep with the dog than with me?”

I didn’t answer and went back to cooking.  He was right.

His hands dropped to his sides and I felt like I heard the air escaping from his balloon.  I don’t know what prompted me to be so honest with him other than I felt like it was the best thing for me to do.

I am sharing a relationship with a prickly cactus who might be giving his all, but to me feels like the bare minimum I can get by on.  That’s why we’re barely dating.

And by that I mean there is no future.  Not because I’ve decided there isn’t one, but because we don’t talk about it; he hasn’t committed even the next year to me.  He seems mildly tortured with worry that he can’t give me what I need or want and in his mind that’s a lifelong commitment.  He feels badly, awful, really.  I get sad because I’ve done everything I can to get out of my own way and enjoy him in the moment, but the truth is: without a committed future working this hard seems like too much.  Why am I doing this?  Am I robbing Peyton of man who wants to be in our lives?

Which brings me to where I am at this very moment.  I feel inept.  Stupid.  Unskilled.  I should know how to do this better by now. But I feel as ignorant and blind as ever.

When I was much younger, I ended relationships after a year when I felt unimportant.  With my exhusband I completely ignored all the lights flaring up inside of me and went ahead and married the guy.  I never tried to change the course with us; I accepted the little he had to give and moved on.  And today I’m accepting the little I get, but am unwilling to just move on.  I want something more, but have absolutely no idea how to make that happen.

In moments such as these I like to think about all the wonderful things TN brings to the table which I’ve never had before: he’s a staunch supporter of mine, he loves helping me and needs it, he’s generous, he’s passionate, he’s damn sexy, he’s strong, he’s a wonderful listener, he genuinely likes me.

But I can’t just go all Pollyanna on myself whenever the darker, sadder, uncomfortable shit rears its ugly head, can I??  I have to face it.  I have to state clearly what my needs are, own them, not be afraid of them and see what happens.  It might be that he can’t or won’t meet them and then I have decisions to make, don’t I?  I can’t do what I’ve done in the past and let this stasis creep up and ooze into the fibers of my relationship, an insidious mold growing larger spore by tiny spore.   But I’m terrified.

I don’t want to lose him.  I don’t want to be alone again; I do better in life when I have a stable partner.  I don’t want to feel that stark, shattering pain.

It would be such a sad ending to our tale if this was it; it just fizzled out a year after we shared our hearts after all those long months of yearning.

I don’t know.  Maybe this is how it ends.  With him sealed away from me and me withering on the vine, desperate for a little more sunshine…

After he did all the dishes without me asking he left with an air of sadness. I fell into an exhausted heap on top of a pile of clean laundry on the couch and watched an episode of Louie C.K.  The dog snoozed on the other end as Louie lamented the pain of divorce and the difficulty of attempted relationships post-marriage.  I giggled through heavy lids, my heart sad, but laughing, because he’s right: it’s torture trying to connect when you have no hope and you know it all ends anyway.

And then the dog became rigid and barked at the back stairwell.  TN filled the doorway and I couldn’t help but be lit up.  He still has that effect on me.

“Hy,” he said with one hand behind his back, “I couldn’t stop thinking after you made that wonderful dinner and did all those wonderful things for me — I mean, I just couldn’t live with myself!  How could I! — that you wouldn’t have any bacon for tomorrow!”  He brought his hand around and held out a package of the special, humanely raised pork that I love, Niman Ranch bacon.  He’d driven to a grocery store that was the furthest from our complex to get it.

I almost burst into tears.  It was the most romantic sweet thing he’d ever done for me.  Totally unexpected, totally unnecessary, totally out of love, totally what this little flower needed.

I patted a spot next to me and threw myself into his arms the second he sat down.  “Thanks for everything, Hy,” he said into my hair.  And then he kissed me long and firm and sweet.  There was still sadness there, but there was also a little bit of hope.  And a little bit of sunshine.

My belly still hates me, but at least my tits are huge or More musings on the Introvert-Extrovert exchange.

I woke up alone today.  That wasn’t the original plan, but the stresses of the week took their toll on The Introvert – er, I mean – The Neighbor and he sweetly begged off.  “I need my Fortress of Solitude,” he explained as we ate the dinner he’d brought over for us.

“I wholly support your need to recharge,” I told him, “But know that while you’re getting what you need tonight, I’m going to need to get filled up, too.”

“What?  This isn’t enough?  I’ve already been here for 20 minutes and plan on staying for a little while.”

This has always been a challenge for us: my need for connection and closeness, face-to-face time and activities and his exact opposite need for alone time.  It does not compute with him that an hour and some change is not at all what I’m looking for.  While appreciated, my heart needs deliberate, concentrated attention for longer periods of time.   If only I were more like him… but I digress.

I explained my thoughts to him and he nodded as if he understood and we made plans to hang out tonight with Peyton at his place: unpacking, pizza, a movie.

I stretched and fondled the kitty, thought of fondling my other kitty, but then felt ill and my hope was dashed.  I was frustrated, a little lonely, still sick.  I stood up and my breasts pulled at my chest, much heavier than usual.  I walked into the bathroom and they pulled against the fabric of my tee making three folds.  For photographic evidence, I snapped some pics and instantly felt better.

Hy's big boobies
It’s not just me, right??

I decided to stop by for an unplanned cuddle with TN on my way out.  When I called to wake him up to unlock the door I could tell he’d been deeply asleep.  “Hullo?” he mumbled.

“Good morning!” I beamed, ever the morning person.  “I’d like to come over for a cuddle.  Unlock your door.”

“Mmmkay,” he murmured.  We hung up.

Ten minutes later I passed by his boxes and strangely placed furniture to find him beneath the cotton ball clouds of his comforter.  I quietly slipped in next to him and stroked his warm milky skin.  He purred a little, grumbled and stretched, pulled me closer and seemed to doze. I lay there thinking how small a gesture as that — pulling me closer — made my heart cease her constant twisting.  It felt so fucking good.

I let my hand fall beneath the covers and follow the contours of his muscles until I found his hot, half asleep cock. I squeezed it gently and it came to life.

The pillow covering half his face couldn’t hide his little smile.  Despite my temperamental belly I couldn’t resist falling on it with my mouth.  Nothing spectacular happened other than I loved on something I love a lot and he got to feel my soft, wet, expert mouth on him.  No fireworks, but I was ok with it.  It’s the act, the journey, not always the destination, right?

It was time for me to go and I stopped my slurping and lay on his chest again.  When I tried to leave he snatched at my hand and wouldn’t let me go.  My heart melted a little more.  It felt so, so good.  I thought, Maybe I need to catch him in the mornings more often.

Hours later I took a nap to gear up for tonight’s festivities.  Lust laced through my dreams as Dream TN lay on my couch with a massive erection, ready and waiting for me.  I tried to reach him, but couldn’t.  He begged me to come to him, but still, I couldn’t.  I broke through a dream in my dream and felt such relief that finally, I could go to him, but alas, another foggy wall lay between us, but this time I could feel his hands on me, the pull of my sex as my body reacted to him.  Maybe he even got a chance to slip into me, I don’t know, because I woke up for the second time, this time into reality.

The nap had done its job: I felt ok!  I thought about the missed opportunity of last night, of that missed connection, of his dreamy giant cock inside of me and decided to send a quick text.


Him: K

I laughed and thought, We’ll see.  The Universe has been conspiring against us for weeks now it seems, this week in particular.  I also thought, Men are robots. Cute robots, though.

Cross your fingers for me tonight that my dreams really do come true.



[Ed. Note: I have the most beautiful picture of TN naked and milky white wrapped up in his bedding all ready to share.  He approved of it this morning, but when it came down to the final approval he balked and said it showed too much of him.  I found that confusing considering some of the images I’ve shared for TNT, but of course agreed to not share it.  A man’s prerogative, right?]




There is no filter.

Hy let's the sun shine through
No really. There is no filter and half of me is gone.

My heart is dark.

I cannot shake doubt, this feeling of exclusion.

Something important about him is missing from my vocabulary.  I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s there. 

I want to believe him, he deserves my trust, but something is lodged inside of me.

Whether it’s by my own hand or his is yet to be seen.

What is love when alongside doubt?  I think it reeks of guilt.

There are no details to share.  This is it in a nutshell: either I’m creating chaos or identifying it.

Either choice is humiliating.
Sinful Sunday