So…I’m alone again.

Weird.

So, the first few weeks he was here were horrible. Like, epic horror lifetime movie network bad. First I wanted his giant sweaty ass out of my space. Then he went into full Asshole land and I was seriously concerned my ass was going to get beat. And he broke all of my plates. I was fucking pissed about that. There was actually a moment when I recall thinking—omg—I am going to be a battered spouse, how the fuck did that happen?!?

Then things calmed down; then we got back into a rhythm and things were not too bad. Then when I dropped him at the airport I was sad. Like weary-sad. Then I focused on work got a report that has been looming over my head for four fucking months out of the way. Then I felt pretty damn good. Called Bear to wish him a smutty happy birthday; got into bed and played over webcam with Demon and had my fourth squirting orgasm ever. Then had a phone sex date with a friend we shall call Tattoo and now my slutty ass is going to bed while avoiding the wet spot.

Do I have any idea what is going on in my head and heart? Nope.

Will I ever? I assume at some point maybe I will know…

Am I doomed (blessed) to live in the moment—fully enjoying every touch/taste/scent? Gods I hope so.

Goodnight ya’ll,

Avoid the wetspot.

-Haven.