Life…is life. I’ve been joking more and more about becoming a crazy ol’ cat lady (sans cats, because I really don’t like them – probably snakes instead) so I figured I’d try for like the fourth or fifth time over the last three or four months to sit down and write something.
I guess I’ll introduce you to the loon I’m becoming.
To kick it off, through some unfortunate circumstances that led to some more unfortunate circumstances, I met a guy I thought would make a good boytoy a few months ago now. I’ll call him Ricky. We fucked the second time we saw each other, after a month and a half of talking on the phone and because I had occasion to go visit my hometown. The first time felt good. I’ve missed a man inside me more than I realized. BUT my tightness was his ruin after the rubbing he got before I finally decided to say ‘oh well’ and jump on. Hooray for very quick quickies (not). We tried again the next night but I ended up dry as a bone. I didn’t explain that I couldn’t get wet because he wasn’t James, just blamed it on a body chemistry problem that’s partly true.
Had he come around any time ‘before,’ he might have made it longer. But between my really not feeling the whole fucking thing (again later) and the small annoyances that became bigger ones because of my new-found cat lady status, that just didn’t happen. This is one reason I’m glad my new lifechanges are in the works. (More on those in a sec.)
The second time I visited my hometown, I had occasion to meet up with the only male of significance in my life that I haven’t fucked, Chaz. Chaz been around as long as Esteban and Xavior (almost half my 31 years on this earth) and was my best friend back in those early days and a bit into the later ones. With a few benefits. While we never fucked, we had rather regular dry humping sessions until he found himself a woman. Fair-skinned, long haired beauty with a foreign accent who could kiss like nobody’s business. We always ended up naked, always had orgasms (multiple at times in my case). One of us always had underwear on and there was never any penetration, unless you want to count the occasional finger exploring my depths. They still stand as some of the hottest nights I’ve experienced.
Anyway, the first night I was at his place, it went much like I thought it would. We caught up, shot the breeze while he tried to get some files from my dead computer, and had an all around fun time playing with his adorable pooches. Ricky ended up sealing my growing annoyance with him thanks to his constant ‘bugging’ to head on to his house. I put him off as long as I could – I was having a lot of fun where I was. I finally gave in a good few hours later than I’d planned, figuring I’d go make my third attempt at fucking, because the possibility of fucking Chaz hadn’t even crossed my mind.
Chaz offered me his guest room and I chuckled. (I really am dense.) I told him I’d best be going and slowly made my way out the door. We stopped just outside his door and he stepped down a step and turned around to face me, putting us about eye-level. I gave him a big squeeze, leaving my arms draped over his shoulders, and asked after his plans for the following night. Somehow, his lips ended up on mine. I melted a bit and moaned as he mentioned the guest room again.
And what do I do? Turn it down. And for what? A total fiasco. Hours of time wasted thanks to alcohol and bad lube. And then having to turn Chaz down again the next night because I’d have felt dirty, our first time being just one night after I was with some other guy. (Been there, done that, most definitely not my cup of tea.)
I told him I’ll be back in town around Thanksgiving and we have tentative plans to meet again but there’s no telling if it’ll happen thanks to all the travel he does for work. I still find myself twitching at the idea when it crosses my mind, about a month later. It works out well, though, because we might not even have to get to fucking and I might just be able to have myself a male-stimulated orgasm again. That’d be nice. I don’t think I’ve experienced that in what…two years or so?
Now beyond all that…general life stuff…
I’m almost done with school which means I might have more time to focus on other things (like everything I keep promising to do for this place) but thanks to some scheduling changes, I must plan to move back home. ‘When’ is still up in the air, whether it be this month or just after the first of the year, but it is coming. I might be saddened by that fact were it not for the fact that my current circumstances are almost as bad as what I was going through up there. I am saddened by the fact that I’m still having to choose between the lesser of the evils instead of living the life I want to be living. But at least if I’m up there, I’ll have my days free so I can try to put my impending degree to use. And I’ll be able to ‘escape’ from time to time – something I can’t do here.
I’ve also cut myself off from a lot of people. Again. After some deep thought and issues with resentment toward James, I decided it was time to get rid of our phone plan. We’re paying a lot every month and not using the phones for their originally intended purpose so right now, they’re a waste. This has the added benefit of becoming unavailable to a lot of people I’d rather not have any dealings with. My contact list had grown to close to a hundred and, aside from my family, I think 20 people made the cut. And I’ve deactivated my ‘main’ FB account again, cutting off almost every mode of contact save email. It’s nice, being liberated, even if it sounds a bit strange coming from a webslut such as myself.
Eh, best for last I suppose…On James…I’m finally confident he’s through fucking the girl he was fucking and I’ve played a few conversations in my favor. I’ve sown the last few seeds I can for the forseeable future so I’m basically at a point where I’m filling the last few commitments I had to him and waiting to see if he’ll realize I’m too important to let go. Either he will or he won’t and I’ll finally have a chance to start moving on. As usual, I guess time will tell. Meanwhile, I’ll be doing my best to make the best of a pretty crappy situation.
Suppose I’ll be back when I have more substance. Heh.