Burned

A single innocent comment. Except this morning all the innocent comments were on the cruel side. 

The last one had me in tears. I can't say that I'm perfectly emotionally stable, tears come easily these days. Had it been another day maybe I'd have dealt with it better but not today. 

We're at the beach and I made an offhand comment about not enjoying the constant sound of children screaming. His comment: "you're just envious because you don't have any of your own."

I was literally dumbstruck, I had no sarcastic comeback for him. In these situations I usually try to find something equally mean to say and we laugh about it, this time I couldn't think of anything. Half hour later my brain came up with "It's not my fault you're not capable of having them." 

I spent that half hour leaking tears quietly behind sunglasses and a hat. When he figured out that something was wrong he tried to talk to me, kept asking if I was angry with him. I kept telling him I didn't want to talk about it. Talking about it would have compounded the issue, he insisted on trying though, to the point that he apologized for the comment without me telling him. He figured it out on his own. Except his apology just made things worse and I cried harder. Asking him to please leave me alone. 

Same story as always, the decision of whether or not to have kids was not mine. It was his. I can't say I have a conscious regret of going along with the decision but if I were an external entity observing myself I'd say that I have a buried regret. 

The comment made me angry, it hurt, I found it terribly insensitive. It want intentional though, so what do I do? Ignore it?

Not sure how long it will take me to get over this one. The last comment related to children took me years to digest. I have the feeling this may take a a while. 

The Girl

Today I saw a girl. She made me turn my head, she made me want her. 

She was quite androgynous, boyish features, slim, petit, small breasts. She had a boy cut bordering on pixie cut, blond hair. She was wearing a crop top with her bathing suit underneath and a pair of cut off jean shorts. When she turned and walked past, the back of her small bathing suit was visible out the top of her shorts. 

It was the glance, she looked me straight in the eye and gave the slightest crooked smile. Maybe it's just me but there was something in that glance. It was like she was saying, I see you, you don't fool me with that man. I was with the bf. 

This is almost a first for me, I've only ever wanted another girl when I was drunk. I've never noticed girls checking me out.

I think that the culture here is so closed minded that it would be difficult for me to even try anything, if I were back home, it would possibly be different. 

Sometimes I wonder how important these experiences are. Is connection what we're all looking for? Should this be a goal or is there a point where we need to say 'I'm happy with where I am'?  

Flirt and Gore.

Flirt
The only mildly interesting thing recently is that I've been super horny. It must show because Co-W unhooked my bra at work, it was peeking out the back of my tank top. He gloated about it after, asking if I'd met anyone who could undo a bra faster. He's right though, it was very fast. It was in front of other colleagues. I believe he was showing off for the other girl too. He tried it a second time but I managed to duck out of the way and I aimed a kick at his crotch but he dodged that too. Ah the joys of flirting, it's like being in jr. high.

I went for a walk today and went into a cafe, grabbed a croissant to go and the bar tender said that it was a pity I wasn't staying. I stammered, he laughed and said, "you weren't expecting that were you?"
I simply said I needed to get back outside in the fresh air. It was hot inside the cafe. I'd be tempted to go back... He was cute, nothing special, but cute. Had I been single I'd have made a point of going back, and often. Someone so openly approving gets me every time.

Gore
I gave myself a nasty cut. I have cut myself before but this time I cut halfway through the top of my thumb nail. I was chopping chocolate and came down on my thumb. It scared the shit out of me. I've never seen a knife just sitting half into my finger like that before. There was a lot of blood but it stopped really fast when I finally remembered to put pressure and raise my hand up. It's not that bad, but it creeps me out still. I think it's because of the nail, the fact that it can catch on things....ugh....cringe-worthy.
I was in such shock when it happened I was pale as a ghost and felt like throwing up. In reality, it's not that bad, it just really freaked me out.

Yesterday I went for an eye exam, I'd never had one done. I've got a lot of floaters and a new thing which is falling stars on occasion. The doc put drops in my eyes and after having a look, he told me that my vitreous liquid is too thick and occasionally sticking to/irritating my retina causing the stars. He says I need to drink more, except I already drink a ton. I also shouldn't lift anything heavy or move my head too fast, or do anything too strenuous for the next 20 days. Not sure why that is since the problem has been there for a year.

The drops made me hypersensitive to light, my pupils dilated to the size of my irises, and I couldn't do anything except lay on the couch in the dark and eat Rob's Doritos and gummy bears – food for wallowing – for hours and hours. The drops possibly gave me a headache but strangely I have another one today and the dilating effects of the drops wore off late last night so I'm not sure what the headache is from. On a side note I had no idea the drops would last that long. It was rather awful.

P.S. I am quite tired of the shit (violence/stupidity) going on in the world. I would like to bury my head in the sand until it's all fixed pls.

Zat iz oll fur tzudei.

Hunger Games

There is a hungry hole that lives between my legs and I fantasize about feeding it your cock. Her gaping mouth is wet, warm and so very famished, but the only thing that she seems to want is you.
I see images taking your hot, rock hard cock in my hand from the base. I see the rest of its length, more than enough for another handful, emerging out the top of my gripping hand as I guide you into that hot, dark, wet space and watch you disappear inside. I feel you as you fill that hunger over and over again. It's a game of give and take, fill and empty, wanting and having, as you pound me. First she's full then she's not, in and out infinitely. But what she really wants, what will satisfy her, is to be filled with your cum. She wants to drip with it, she wants to taste your semen inside her. She wants to feel your seed drip from between her lips and right down my legs. Your cock lapping it up and pushing it right back in where it should be. 

Approval Addiction

So I was browsing Youtube and came across a video that had me intrigued. It was about approval addiction. I only watched the video part way through. It was long-winded and I felt like I had the gist of it by half way.
His take on approval addiction was that we all have this innate need for approval, and some people even have an innate need for disapproval, hence why so many people tend to do horrible things and look for chaos. He said that it's the exact opposite of approval and therefore is still recognition. What's worse than either approval or disapproval is being ignored completely.

Up to this point I was right on the bandwagon with his reasoning. It was perfectly sound. However the viewer's question was "how do I get past approval addiction", and his answer did not satisfy me in the least.

His answer was simply to go without any sort of approval. To just live with not having that sensation. To live with the sensation of emptiness. And while that may seem logical, like quitting something cold turkey, I don't think it quite addresses the problem fully.

After so many years of seeking approval from everyone and every source, I've realized that I can give myself approval. I can actually get pleasure from self approval almost as much as getting it from other people. It takes some getting used to. It takes some practice too but I think it's possible. There was a point when I had to start getting off on what I was doing just for the sake of getting off. And at this point I'm talking sexually but this could be projected onto any type of approval I think.

Take this scenario:
I have moments of intense need of approval, needing positive feedback for pictures, my body, my self esteem etc. When I didn't get that approval for one reason or another, or it was simply taking too long, I learned to go back, look at the pictures, the video, and get pleasure in seeing them, as if others were seeing it too. It didn't matter that no one else was seeing it, as long as it turned me on, who else cares.

Sure there are times where I seek approval, I am still an addict, but much less so in recent years than in the past. It's part of the reason I started this blog. It was a form of approval again. And now, it still works even if I know that only a handful of people read it. My initial goal of accumulating followers has subsided and now I'm happy to write for myself.

The package!

OMG, omg, omg.
Guess what came in the mail today? Squeeeeeee.
Ok so I was teaching from home this morning and when my student went to leave I opened the door to find the package standing in front of it. Not sure why the postwoman didn't buzz me, but YAY. I was so excited to see it sitting there.

I saw my student off and grabbed the package and sat it on my table. I took a picture of it and then proceeded to open it.

On opening, the first thing I saw was chips. Lol mini bags of Doritos tangy cheese chips. They're bright orange so yeah, pretty easy to spot. There, nestled in between, was also a package of Haribo sour gummies. It definitely made me laugh. He knows me so well.

The packaging was brown as well as there being brown paper wrapping the bowls so at first I didn't notice the beige object sitting next to the chips. Once I had the chips out I realized there were a couple objects in transparent plastic bags. The first one was a shirt. It was a beige Beasty Boys shirt that (I found out later) he gave me because the colour didn't suit him. I instinctively smelled the shirt. I tend to smell everything. I smelled the paper too lol. In any case the shirt, while it didn't smell like his deodorant, the smell still reminded me of him..... not sure why. I'll be wearing it as a pj, it's big on me, or if I can, I might try to size it down on my sewing machine.

Wedged down the side of the box there was another plastic bag containing a picture of him in a scenic mountain landscape. It was from a while back. His head was shaved. But I loved the fact that he put in a picture of himself. I immediately hid the picture with my hand written diary. By this point I was laughing (by myself) and giddy and shaking. I was beyond happy I guess.

Next were the bowls. They were both wrapped in the brown paper. I took the first one out and unwrapped it, admired it and looked for a place to put it. They are a beautiful shade of light blue that goes well with my decor. When I picked up the second one though I realized that there was something inside.

I guess I was emotional because when I opened the last bowl I started to laugh and cry all at once. In the bowl he'd stuffed a globe themed golf ball and a Scrabble key chain with his initial letter on it. That was it, the waterworks turned on.

Don't get me wrong. Most of the things he put in were not bought for me – with the exception of the Doritos and gummies. They were things he found around, which makes them perfect reminders of him. They are little pieces of his personality that I know so well. The golf ball did it for me I think. It's so him, plus the whole reason we meet up is because of his 'golf trips'. So that's in my bedside table for now.

The bowls are sitting in my living room. One is on a bookshelf up on a top shelf so the bf doesn't get suspicious with two blue bowls showing up out of the blue (oops, no pun intended). The other is sitting on a buffet cabinet where I have a little display of various objects I like. Above the cabinet there's some random art hanging, some is mine some is by my mother, there's a metal ram's head and I've hung the Scrabble keychain from his horn. It blends into the rest quite well. Actually it makes the display even better.

I obviously texted him to thank him and to tell him I'd received everything in good order. I told him I cried, he told me to quit being gay. I sent him a picture of one of the bowls in its new home on the buffet cabinet and wondered if he'd spot the key chain hanging on the ram on the wall (I had to hint at it).

Today.... Today totally made up for my crappy day Tuesday when my bike got stolen and then I got some sort of stomach flu the same evening. Tenfold.

War Time Romantic Stories and Thoughts on My Love Affair

My cousin came to visit me a couple weeks ago. It was a fun time. I hadn't seen him in ages.

While he was here he told me a story that was intriguing to me. It was a story of a family member, a great uncle I think, who served during the 1st world war and was caught in Italy. He was sent to Sicily to work on farms as a prisoner of war. There, he fell in love with a Sicilian woman and she got pregnant. The prisoners of war were then sent on to a true prison camp in another country where they were eventually freed and sent home.

This man who was originally from Germany or Poland, (can't remember) was then married. It was an arranged marriage. He had various children with his wife yet he secretly kept in touch with the Sicilian lady and their son over the years. They sent letters back and forth. Later in life this man went on a trip with another man in the family (I believe my cousin's grandfather or great grandfather), they went to Sicily to meet the woman and their boy. Years later he died. His travel companion died shortly after but not before he got the chance to tell his grandchildren the story. The younger generations of the family are fascinated with the story, knowing that they have cousins in Italy somewhere. So they are researching it to see if they can find out where these people are.

The story fascinated me because it's, well, somewhat familiar. Obviously it has no similarities to my own story with the exception of distance and a love affair but I found it wonderfully romantic and tragic, or was it? There's something triumphant about it too. Maybe it's the fact that he manages to go back to see her or the fact that the story lives on in the family. It could be a book, though I'm sure there are many of it's kind out there.

It's one of those things that as a woman especially, watching, reading or hearing about these stories seems so romantic you almost wish you had one of your own. When you do, when you are in the middle of something like that there are definite surreal moments where things dawn on you and you think "I'm fucking lucky to be living this". Most of the time things just happen, life goes on, but there are times when I want to write it into a book, make it last forever pass it down to future generations.

And then I think: "What future generations?", I haven't got kids to pass this on to.