Monthly Archives: August 2013
The Real Danger of Drunk Blogging
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I’m a little afraid.
I was doing some drunk blogging over the weekend and accidentally spilled a beverage into the keyboard of my MacBook Pro. I reacted quicker than most drunk people might to try to dry the whole thing off, turn it off and set it up to dry au naturel.
Two days later, it refuses to even power up. Not a good sign.
I’m keeping my fingers crossed but let this be a lesson to the rest of you; do not drink and blog.
your husband cheated
Granted, I haven’t put 29 years into my marriage but this is my life. I learned that I was valuable as a father and as a provider but not as a husband, much less a lover. I didn’t wait 29 years.
http://sadisticgames.tumblr.com/post/58313580585/i-cannot-stress-how-simple-and-powerful-a
Someday.
I will explain all of the players and characters in my acts. Just not yet.
A Second Time
This was originally written on March 9, 2008 and was posted at 10:54 pm on that night.
I haven’t been able to decide whether it’s fitting or ironic that I’m sitting on an airplane operated by United Airways. It’s taking me further and further away from the woman I love with every passing second. It’s separating us, rather than uniting us. On the other hand, being able to spend a whole weekend together managed to unite us in ways I didn’t predict. Obviously, I’m torn.
I guess maybe it depends on where I want to place my focus; on the time we spent together or having to leave. While I believe it’s important to take some time to mourn our parting, I prefer to place more of my focus on how our limbs intertwined while naked in bed or her beautiful eyes and sparkling lips or being able to have coffee and talk about literature and our pasts.
We had two days and two nights together. We tried to do everything together; things we had long dreamed of. We showered together, I watched her put on her make up (like I always do), we had breakfast together, we openly kissed and hugged and laughed. To anyone else, we could have been your average married couple on the town. No one would have known the wiser so we took advantage and blatantly stole kisses at every opportunity. I loved waking up at her side, watching her peaceful face lie still against the backdrop of a sheer white curtain in the window. I loved pressing my body against hers as we slept; not having to fear my hands being pushed away or rejected.
And, of course, we made love. At every opportunity we could take, we were undressing each other and pleasuring each other. The room resounded with her moans of pleasure and I grew very familiar with her gritting her teeth and bearing down on my cock. I buried my face in her neck and smelled her perfume, letting it fill my nostrils and intoxicate my mind. I kissed her soft lips and ran my hands over her incredibly soft body.
Coincidentally, Evey’s friends happened to be in the area and we met up with them for dinner and drinks. They all know Evey and her husband very well and they understand, all too well, their situation. It was a little awkward for both of us; two of her worlds were colliding and for me, conversations that involved her husband made me feel invisible or temporary. No one was trying to make me feel this way; in fact they were very understanding and accepting.
I feel really quite sad at pondering Evey’s situation and my role in it. Leaving her today made me feeling like I was throwing her to the wolves to be torn to bits. I know she’s a strong woman however I feel like I can’t just stand by and let this man destroy her. I felt like I was abandoning her.
I know that we will go back to our regular arrangement of phone calls, text messages, chats and camming. We will talk when we can and we will meet when we can. We will take advantage of every free moment and savour the taste of each one. Enjoy the moment; when you aren’t certain when the next moment is going to be, you enjoy each one as they come.
Tearing Down Walls
Revisiting old posts again; I wrote on my old blog back in November 27, 2007;
I’ve been with my wife for over eight years and we’ve celebrated many things together. This week, I celebrated my 32nd birthday.
Throughout the course of the evening of my birthday, I’d managed to consume several Heinekens, ate some ribs and watched my home team win a well played hockey game. At least I thought it was well played. By then I was a bit tipsy so I can’t say with any certainty. The post-game festivities were going with my wife to a nearby pub to play some games and drink some more beer.
Nearing the end of the night, I’d managed to consume several more Heinies and was definitely drunk at this point. And then it came to me like a flash straight out of the blue. From where I really don’t know, all I know is that I had no fear in contemplating it nor carrying it out.
As she sat in front of the MegaTouch machine and at a low volume, which I remember being surprised that she could hear, I said “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
She stopped playing and looked at me.
“I think I’m bisexual,” I said. Again, I had no fear about it. I’ve tried countless times to lead into saying this and every time common sense would stop me. All of those conversations we’d had in the past about her being disgusted by anal play or hypothetical situations about threesomes and extra-marital sex entered into my head and I would hesitate. This time, I didn’t care what she said or what she thought. It was something I needed to say.
Why, after eight years of keeping a secret, did I choose this moment to spill my guts to her and expose my deepest darkest secret? Perhaps I was hoping to overwhelm her. Perhaps I was hoping that she would be utterly disgusted or outraged. Perhaps, at all costs, I simply needed her to understand why I’ve been so unhappy. Maybe it’s all of the above.
Regardless of the reasons, it was said. It was out there. And she was completely in a state of shock. The only thing that she could manage to say was “What?”
And then it started to catch up with her. She’d realized what I’d said. And then, she needed a cigarette.
We went outside and talked as she smoked in a panicked frenzy. She asked me things like “have you ever acted on it?” or “how long have you known?” or “could you fall in love with a man?” I answered each question without fear. In order to save her feelings, I had to lie that I’d only only been with one guy and that it was a long time ago. I couldn’t even fathom how to tell her otherwise.
It became obvious that she would listen to me and still loved me but that she couldn’t really accept what I’d said.
Fated.
Note: This is a post I wrote November 15, 2007 about the woman that I still consider to be my soul mate and love with every fibre of my being.
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I don’t like to start off blog posts like this. In this case, I have no choice; I have been thinking for over a week of a way to relay the outcome of my trip alluded to in my last post. And for the past hour, I have been punching keys and then deleting them… feeling they were insufficient to portray the depth and significance of it.
How can you put words to what is quite possibly one of the most influential and monumental events of your life? How can you describe it in a way that does it justice?
The simple fact is that you can’t. But I’m going to try; be damned if I’m not going to try.
Fated
Looking back, I feel like I had been involved in a cosmic Q & A session to find that, within 24 hours, all of my questions had been answered. And in those answers; the key to my future and my happiness seemed clear. The more time that goes past, the more I can appreciate the magnitude of what we’d done.
Although we’d both shared fantasies about our first meeting many times, nothing could prepare me for what it would actually be like. We shared each other in that hotel room; for hours. We made love, we talked, we touched, we held each other… it was incredible.
Right from the moment where she stepped past the doorway and into my arms, nothing that I can remember has ever felt so right. The smell of her perfume in my nose as I planted soft kisses on her neck, the softness of the skin on her lower back as I ran my hand beneath her top, the warmth of her breasts as they crushed against my chest; it was like the final pieces of a puzzle being placed together.
I savoured her body, her mind and her soul on that bed. No part of her body was left untouched. I wanted to commit every curve, every texture, every square inch of her to memory; from her toes to her ears. My lips went places on her body where I’m sure she’s never had a pair of lips go before. Each long and wistful moan she made was recorded; each sharp and pleasure driven breath she took was documented in my mind. We would spend periods in each other’s arms talking about our disbelief about being together and just staring into each other’s eyes.
I expressed my love for her verbally as well, sometimes unable to finish it before I moved in for a kiss. I treasured looking into her eyes while we made love and professing my devotion to her.