and then there were three…

There is a small subset of the population which truly are my kryptonite.  They all appear to have the following similarities:

  1. They are big dudes. Seriously, we are talking that guy that when they walk in the room people say, “whoa”. Usually over 6′ 3″. 
  2. They are very smart.
  3. They are very dour.
  4. They are intrigued by me, sort of attracted to me, but don’t really like me very much.

The first version of my kryptonite I married, the second moved to another country while I was out-of-town, and the third one just disappeared before I could ever kiss him in person. I *should* be thankful that I didn’t get a chance to do something stupid like fall in love with him.  But boy howdy is it going to be awkward when we run into each other (notice I didn’t say “if”? yeah, the Gods love awkward way too much for it to be “if we ever run into each other”).

The problem with H-Kryptonite is that I *want* to make them happy. Everything inside me screams to do everything I can to make them happy–but when they aren’t (see #3) it hurts me because I feel like I failed. Lame, right?

So, new rule? If a suitor comes my way and they display any version of #4 – it is a HELL NO because I deserve better.  If they have either #1 or #2 (yay!) but if they combine either of those with a #3 I’m thinking itsa no.

I need a flow chart.

~big yawn~


lunchtime words

Well, it’s lunchtime again and I have absolutely nothing of importance to share. I do learn more about myself on a daily basis–some of which does not flatter me. I often joke about my awkwardness; the thing is? usually I am awkward-charming; but sometimes I’m horribly reminded that I can delve into a scary state of awkward when I am attracted to someone.  That unfortunately awkward idiot doesn’t know when to shut up and go away and keeps attempting to poke the other person into liking her; it kind of hurts me to watch myself do it.

*stands there; pokes with finger* “like me now?”
*pokes again* “how about now?”
*pokes again* “now?”
*double poke* “better now?”   
*poke* “wait?, where are you going? but I  have more POKING!”

Quick run-down: ‘performing’ for new people I am awkward-charming-funny; performances for me are when I am teaching or even visiting with people/acquaintances/family and I am fucking amazing at it. It took me over 3 decades to realize that performance-piece of awesome, well that isn’t really me. I am pretty comfortable with the me that is too loud, too snuggly, and usually wearing a huge dorky smile while craving physical affection A LOT.  This is the me  you will see I am comfortable and with true friends and loved ones. :).  It was only today that I realized there is a third culprit–a version of me that I am just beginning to understand. If I am sounding a little too schizophrenic; please know I don’t “switch” minds, the different ‘versions’ are me using different behaviors that I am trying understand. Hand to Gods; I didn’t do this on purpose. I have always been attracted to big dudes and have a special weakness for big dudes who are not that excited to be involved in my life. It’s like I can here a celestial voice state, “CHALLENGE ACCEPTED”. And I become a much less attractive version of myself; let me specify – I become much less attractive to myself. So, after this unfortunate enlightenment I feel very, “well, huh. that’s unexpected” about the whole thing. Sheds an unfortunate understanding onto the aching scar of my failed marriage….hell, even sheds a brighter light on the dude who moved to Canada without telling me.

Perhaps dudes over 6 foot 2″ are just my damn cryptonite? *shrugs*

With age comes more wisdom about my past and more frustration with myself by redoing the same dumb crap.

Live, Learn, Fuck Up, Get Older, Keep Living, etc. etc. etc.

*kisses y’all*


Stupid Emotions

Today started off with the grumble roar of a garbage truck.  I jolted out of bed wondering why I once again forgot to drag it to the outside of the fence, certain I would drag my butt out there extra early.  It’s never happened yet, but by golly maybe someday I will.  🙂  The very nice garbage men waited and took my trash and they all grinned at me stupidly.  I looked down to make sure I was wearing pants (hey, I’ve done stupider shit) and happily yes, there were in fact pants.  shirt too.  I felt like I was on a roll with the ‘normal’ when I realized I was wearing my collar.  Yes, my lovely leather spikey collar Demon sent me.  complete with tshirt and scrub pants.  yep, I am a hella sexual beast.  ~rolls eyes~

Being the twisted freak I am I am kind of thinking that next week I should take the trash out with a ball gag on – just to mess with them.  🙂

Then work, and surprisingly as days go–not too bad.  Worked on some equipment, flirted with psycho (if flirting means discussing him performing my brazillian wax instead of the nice spa).    Around 4pm I went on etsy and found what has to be my new favorite toy (purple/blue on black leather and anklet cuffs).   I have been having way too much fun looking for naughty stuff on etsy.  Some of it is stealth naughty; some is blatant and proud.   I was planning on hitting the beauty supply store to buy wax (hey, I am not one to say no to a free and detailed wax) then home and relaxing.  Instead….well, I talked.  openly, freely, and intensely.

It started off well, I had that intense voice talking about how I love easily and deeply but rarely trust.  And then Safety dude went into an entire discussion about his life and questioned some of my beliefs in regards to love.  He asked me if my best experience ever had been my first and last would that have been enough for me.

oooooh, good question.

then he asked me about my husband, and was all of the stress there my fault–had I not tried hard enough.

well, hell.  maybe.

then, we talked further….I got to the point of tears running down my cheeks.  It was intense and deep and a REAL conversation.  Not one of someone encouraging me to divorce my husband…but just talking about love, what love means, what causes love to die, why we treat the ones we love the worst, his recent divorce, women he loved/thought he loved, how we ended up where we were.

I left this conversation feeling good.  strong.  centered.  Somehow that led me to feel incredibly lonely…deeply bone achingly lonely once I got home.  Met some friends for dinner and brought up the conversation and my friend put in her two cents (wants me to divorce).  What do I want?  still don’t know.

But I tell you what, I can sure “ATTACK” in a conversation.  Make someone feel like shit even if I didn’t want that to happen.  And in this case, that someone is Demon.  I talk to him every day.  every single day.  I’m in uncharted waters with this man.  I love him.  I have never seen him in person, touched him, tasted, or smelled him – but I love him.   And even though he has made some mistakes; I trust him as well.  And that is very hard for me.  I can count the people I trust on one hand.

I am really tired.  I was given the task of trying to sort through these emotions, write them out, embrace them.  The truth of it is as follows I feel guilty.  I feel very very guilty.  I have an entire life that keeps me sane separate from my husband.  So I have some heavy guilt.  Something else I don’t want to delve into too much is I said, out loud, “I cannot imagine being free”.

doesn’t bode well does it?

Anywhoodle…love ya’ll.  time for sleep.  ~big yawn~



wah wah fuckity wah

I have not had sex in a Very Long Time.
I haven’t even played with myself in a very long time.
I was given an offer by the visiting husband and shockingly (like, I was seriously shocked by this) I turned him down. Why!?! you may be asking. Well, I’ll tell ya.
I didn’t wanna. Normally I would beg for it…but for some reason I had the thought that if I fucked him, it would be 6 minutes of fun followed by months of frustrated angry rage. So I thought to myself–huh, maybe this is why people give up on sex.
Probably this won’t be forever…I’m sure once he leaves I will be back at myself like a monkey with a pleasure button. But this visit of his has been a roller coaster of emotions. I love him I hate him I want a divorce please move here….it’s been f’n exhausting.
So please excuse me from the fun smuttery for a little while.
-love, H.