eighteen months ago. who knew? eighteen months ago.
for everything that has transpired. for the way my eyes have been opened and my heart beats i am grateful. to know he will never be mine. i would still be the first one to lean up for that kiss. that. very. first. kiss.
I wish I didn’t long for this. Wish for this. Wish for a night spent in his proximity. His nakedness mere inches from me. The feel of him in the same space in which he sleeps. It’s not that I don’t understand his reasons, not at all. It’s just that it breaks my heart that I don’t mean any more to him than as his personal fuck toy. I know I didn’t sign up for any more than that, but the woman in me, yes the woman that entered this with her eyes wide open. The woman that is in love with him wants this more than anything. And he knows it. He knows it and each week there is a hint or a tease or even a promise that it will happen the next time. It’s been more than 6 next times with no next times in sight. And so my wish now moves from the bucket list forever.
trite as it may seem, it’s true. with heartbreak there is the obvious tax. the immediate pain or awkwardness, depending on whom broke the others heart. but there’s the residual tax. the one that comes in the middle of the night and you can’t sleep or the when all on feels is the aching loneliness for just another moment with that person.
when one is heartbroken, one feels like that could never go through it again. promise to take better care of themselves, of their heart. but inevitably it happens again.
We missed completely today. Not even a quickie so to speak. Today was a hard day, no particular reason and a million and one reasons. One of those days. And I missed him. I miss him. And I hate being this way. I hate that I miss him, ache for him, long for him, want him, need him, the way that I do.
I can’t sleep. Again. No, I mean, as usual. I have had an intimate relationship with Insomnia since my pre-teen years. Most of the time, it doesn’t bother me. Sometime’s I swear my soul is dying and I’m begging for a decent r.e.m. cycle. And other times, I welcomed him with open arms, taking great pride in being able to balance many things and get projects done in the middle of the night when the rest of the household is asleep.
My doctor’s have been very clear with me over the last few months. I have got to sleep. I need to reduce my stress, even my good stress and repair. Tonight, tonight I can’t sleep, I’ve made the cake for one child’s birthday, prepped for tomorrow, and took care of some items for my oldest. Darling husband is sleeping and I’m listening to the storm rolling through.
I can’t help but think of him. My long distance lover who I didn’t get to interact with at all today. I knew this was going to be the case, given his role in his community and the community event for a very good cause. Still, he knows how much connection of some sort, any sort, is to me and I grinned when I saw the simple email he sent saying good morning. I was positively giddy when he sent an unexpected text of a picture of him at the event. And his good night mail to me made me blush.
And so, as the rain tries to lull me, I think back to the time before last in which we had several hours together over the course of a few days in the same general area. And I *sigh*. It had to be one of our best moments together, ever. I don’t know if it’s because we are both on a similar page in regard to our pleasure. Or me knowing that he has a pattern to his travel routine and by knowing it, I can work within the construct of those boundaries for us to have a lovely time. Whether it’s dining at the local pub and enjoying trivia night. Or catching lunch before he heads to his presentation and enjoying time with him in public as friends. And of course, the amazing sex that fans the flames of desire. Flames that don’t seem to fade or even flicker. My god, I thought I was horny, lustful and yearning before I met him.
If only. I had no idea how much more sexually wanting and open I’ve become because of him. Because he genuinely desires me and lusts for me as me. He isn’t judgmental and he is so incredibly sexy that I can’t help but feel desirable, sexy and free to be wanton when I’m with him. By knowing him. Whether or not he would spend the night wasn’t the point. The point was purely a selfish indulgence on my part. And it was spectacular. And worth every damn penny.
He fucked me up against the floor to ceiling windows looking out over the water. He fucked my thoroughly on the couch and then I scrambled on top to ride him hard, cowgirl style until my thighs gave out and I had squirted on his belly. And the glass shower, and the two person tub, and the desk and the bed.
The recollections sustain me and also kill me. Literally. And so here I am, wide awake, recalling very vivid memories of him from not so long ago.
*sigh*
that is all.
It was with false bravado that I took to the Internet, figuring it would be a long while before any serious inquiries would come my way or that I would find any of them intriguing and or compelling enough to pursue even more than a passing email fancy. I don’t know what it was about Tom’s inquiry and subsequent email that intrigued me. They were bold, borderline brash, yet funny, inquisitive and genuinely made me smile. Not salaciously but more from the appreciation of the thought that went into clever responses.
Hmm I asked myself, should we meet? In the meantime, I had a few ongoing online conversations with Steve, Matt and Mark. All interesting, to a degree, one very nice, polite, funny and as it turns out a colleague (in that we both work for the same large multi-national company). Matt turned out to be incredibly pushy, desperate and even a bit creeper like. Ok, a lot creeper like. Mark was almost too good to be true, handsome, from Los Angeles, some sort of patent tech geek with regular business in the area. And yet, none made me smile the way the initial message from “Tom” did. While I was adept at putting off the others that sent mail, and were very clear about wanting to meet, Tom’s mails were the one’s that I looked forward to, the one that I thought hmm…well it would be interesting to at the very least meet him whilst he is in town. Plans were made to meet before his presentation…simple enough, we’ll meet for some coffee for him & water for me. I woke up on the agreed upon day to a mail stating that his plans had changed and he was no longer available during the day, had to present all day and again for a couple of hours in the evening etc. Now, if you knew me, that information would have been usually received a shrug of the shoulders from me and a “well, maybe next time” kind of response. Nope, for some reason, one of which me and my therapist haven’t worked out just yet, I was disappointed and oddly willing to be flexible enough to move some meetings in order to get to meet him, even if for 30-minutes between his presentations. Nor can I explain the thrill that went up my spine when I got an email back once he landed that yes, that would work as well.
Surprisingly, I wasn’t nervous, nor excited, but I was definitely intrigued. I went about my morning and day as usual, kidlet #2 drop off, conf calls, meetins, 1:1 with my manager and then it was time to head to the neighboring city to meet “Tom”. I got to the meeting place a bit early, a rarity for me, so i backtracked a block and decided to wait in the lobby of the hotel where he was presenting. Now when I look back on it, that move does seem very creeper like huh? Anyway, I find a comfortable corner to surf the web, people watch etc. Back to my false bravado- I had a plan/rules for this journey: A. always use a psuedonym B. do not give out personal cell phone or email address C. meet on my terms only. As I waited I reviewed my plan as it were…Meet “Tom”, find out more about him, see if there’s any chemistry let alone interest on his end and, if so, plan to meet again on his next trip to Seattle. Sounds reasonable, yes? I mean, we were meeting in a public place, in the late afternoon on a weekday. I had a reason to be out and about, I had not used my real name at all, nor had I given out my mobile phone number or my real email address. Ok, check, check and check. I was ready…
What I wasn’t prepared for was the moment “Tom” in through the lobby doors and glanced my way. While I didn’t know it was him, clearly, my body “knew” it was him. I could hear a whoosh and my entire being started to buzz, loudly. The hair on the back of my neck stood on alert,, my mouth ran dry and I was quivering, QUIVERING! All I could muster was a “Hi” and a nervous smile, and if I thought that was bad, imagine my horror when the moment ”Tom” spoke and looked at me all I could see were these blue, very blue eyes that seemed to alight with mischief and I think he smiled too but I honestly don’t remember. I was rendered speechless. Virtually and literally, speechless. The next thing I know is that all coherent and rational thought flew out the window and I found myself still sitting but leaning forward, extending my right hand and a discombobulated voice, wait! that was my voice saying: “hi, nice to meet you, by the way, my real name is McKenzie.” shut up! shut up! I tell myself WTF?! I did NOT just do that, did I? Really? As he shakes my hand, nice, firm, sure of himself, a small grin appears on is face as he says “hi, me too and I’m Tom.” I think we chatted for a minute or two, I know that another man in the lobby across from us is one of his clients or customers or someone attending the presentations I think, it’s not all that clear. My body is buzzing so loudly I can’t really think. I think we chat about what he has left to do that afternoon/evening and I think I remember asking him if he wanted to walk out to my car and I vaguely remember asking him if he wanted to meet after his presentation that night at a local bar/business travelers hotel that was on his way out towards the airport but closeer to where I was going to be that night. Yes he says, sure. I am pretty sure I am grinning like a freaking high school coed at that point in time. I don’t even remember what I said. All i remember is driving away, my body buzzing and my brain in overdrive, warring with my body which at that point is certain I am going to see him again and I am going to kiss him! What was that? Why are my senses on high alert? Oh my God, I have to see him to make sense of my reaction.
Even now, I don’t know what it is or was…yes he is handsome, in a conventional way, mid-40′s, tall, taller than my husband at 6’4″, blue eyes, friendly face, naturally going grey, dockers, topsiders, polo shirt…your average guy next door. But my immediate and unmitigated attraction was palatable. Quite frankly, he made me all kinds of horny. As in the irrational, how can I get my hands on him horny. My panties were wet the moment I laid eyes on him and when I heard his voice, it was if an earthquake happened and my body was experiencing after shocks. Really? I don’t think I’ve dated a guy who wore dockers and topsiders since before the hubby…over 23-years!
Tom and I agree to meet around 9:00 that night in a local restaurant/bar in the lobby of a typical hotel for business travelers and senior citizens. Unfortunately, kidlet #1′s sporting event, which should have been done by 8:30pm was delayed and I wouldn’t be able to get there until until 9:30pm. When I got the mail saying he would wait it was all I could do to not speed all the way there. ”Get a grip McKenzie” I tell myself as I park my car. No way that was a real spark, go buy him a beer for driving out to meet you, enjoy a conversation, see if there is interest on his part and maybe keep exchanging emails until his next trip out to Seattle in the summer. Yes, that’s it, that is the plan.
And here is where I fail, not only do I fail, it is an EPIC failure of siesmic proportions. No more than 15-20 minutes pass and again, as if I am watching everything unfold from a distance, I observe with shock and unadulterated lust me, yes ME, asking him if he wants to continue our conversation upstairs. Upstairs?! Wait, what, I got a room? Yep. I did?! I couldn’t stop myself, but more importantly, I didn’t want to stop myself as we head upstairs. I’m still not sure that he is even remotely attracted to me but my body and my needs and the desire that was flowing through me, for him was pushing me further. Not only did I cross that line, “the line” I literally pole vaulted over it.
is me is really me 