Into the looking glass

Everything is so weird right now with my life. It’s like I’ve put my life into a bowl, blended it and tossed it up into the air and in process of catching the pieces to put them where they belong on the board. I’m failing at something and I hate that I am. J is trying to be supportive, but he is, I think, terminally jealous of my work and the fact that I am not here for him.

I’d be jealous of his, did he not move Earth and Sun for me constantly.

Oh and how part of me wants to give it up! I know that this period isn’t the way it always will be. I am not S, I don’t breathe figures and write papers in my head with every waking second. I am Angelique, a girl, a woman, who loves not being obligated, not being planned, and that maybe is why I am so at odds with the path of my life right now.

I am a hippie at heart, but a pressed and girlie, bra-wearing one. I want freedom, but that isn’t to say I want to be away from J, NOT AT ALL, but that work, and everything else is just squeezing me too tightly right now.

I want to spend a day just chatting and fucking. I don’t want to shop. I don’t want to work or clean. I just want to spend the day with him between my thighs, but moreso, with him between my ears, bathing my senses with calm and his own brand of humor. His voice is a balm for my frantic world.

J organized my life. And that organization has helped me be a success, has helped me not want anymore for those things. It has made things happen that I’ve always wanted to happen.

And, as with all things, now that I have them, I find myself reaching for something else.

J loves me. I know it. I’ve heard it from his mouth. I’ve heard him say it to someone else. He loves me. He loves me. He loves me. He loves me…

These days I’m struggling to find my place with J. He is the sort of man who hurts you without knowing he has done so, and at the same time, he also hurts you on purpose. Most of the time it is easy to tell the difference, other times it takes you a few moments in your hurt, tear-fogged brain to sort out the details for posterity.

I am a girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, and my lover, the sadist, knows just how to cut me to make me bleed out the most. I’ve told him. I don’t know how to keep secrets like that from my lover. I don’t know how to protect myself as he, obviously, does. I can hurt him, but my brain always closes my mouth before I do, as if even in this, he rules over me. There are so many things I can say, and sometimes desperately want to say, but cannot, because I don’t want to see his face change.

I don’t want to hurt him. I am not the sadist here. I would only wound him and myself by trying to out-maneuver him. He needs me to remind him to have some compassion. He needs me to comfort him.

He is so fierce. He fights for everything, has fought battles that I would have lost, and so home, needs to be calm. Neutral. His friend explained it to me. So alike they are, so open with their friends, but so closed with their lovers. J too, his friend, more. I could spend the day, ferreting out S’s brain for details, but it isn’t the same as hearing it from J’s mouth.

I wish J wrote like S does. I would read it until the strain made my eyes water. I wouldn’t sleep. J’s book is the one I’d keep with me all the time.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this. I don’t think I’ve ever been this in love, this AWARE of my love, until him. I want to crawl inside him. I want to feel his skin against mine. I want his husky laughter in my ear.

Most of all, I want to be his home; his comfort, the place where he can whisper his secrets and feel weightless.

I went out Saturday night without J. The group involved was one that he just doesn’t want to be around - my co-workers, friends and boyfriends, but I didn’t have a choice. It was my going away party, combined with one of their birthdays, etc.

At some point a girl and I started talking. This woman, younger than me, was not the kind of person I hang out with, but seeing as I needed to fill the time, and look busy to fend off any relationship-minded cowboys looking to two-step me around the dance floor, we chatted. She was obviously a sad drunk kind of girl. At one point of the evening, I even pretended to be her lover to keep someone from bothering her again.

Long story short, when I left, she gave me her cell number and told me to text her for her myspace id. It was a pleasant sort of thing, and I’m on myspace about, I dunno, MAYBE twice a month, so I agreed.

A few days later, I did. Now, I’m going to post the message exchange with my notes off too the side. I am boggled on how to handle this.

Me: Hey there. It’s (insert my gender neutral name here) from Saturday…send me your myspace id so I can add you.

Girl: the URL is (not giving that out.)
Girl: I didn’t actually expect to hear from you. lol.

Girl: K

(Time passes - Hours later)

Girl: So, what do you remember about me? (I’m thinking she’s fishing for compliments, but I find this odd.)

Me: The cute picture you showed me of your baby boy, the cute glasses, short red hair… Oh, and ‘motor boat me, bitch’ (that last one was a reference to the lesbian act we were putting on - i feel obligated to add, that no touching took place)

Girl: LOL nice. And dark burgandy [sic] red. I know youre not interested in me besides as friends so dont get scared. LOL

Me: (confused, thinking two things: 1. Maybe she’s warning me off and someone told me that I liked girls part time. 2. Or that she likes girls and is trying to reassure me.) LOL. Not scared babe. I bite. I used to be a red head.

Girl: I bite back, and I like it.

I don’t answer, thinking that’s a nice end for this unusual string of messages. J in the meantime has noticed that I’m chatting up a girl (of course he thinks I’M the aggressor.) He wants to read my text messages and I tell him no. He then asks me if she’s cute. I say, she’s alright, but not my type. Subject drops.

Later, I get this…

Girl: Now youre scared. lol

Me: I don’t know if you can handle it. (I’m detecting flirtation here, but trying to keep it neutral and failing)

Girl: What makes you think you could handle me?

Girl: LOL hmmm. Havent you ever heard the expression ‘lady in the street, but a freak in the sheets’? Haha and Im a good girl, but I could reduce you if i wanted too and you wanted me too. just not the day i meet you. lol

Me: (oh lord, yes, who hasn’t heard that song.) The first day would be a little fast. But I wasn’t offering.

Girl: do you remember what I look like?
Girl: Im asking because you said what my hair looked like and my glasses, but nothing else.

Me: Yes. I remember just fine. I could pick you out of a crowd.

My phone, at this point, has been vibrating steadily for about a half hour. I’m in bed, trying to read a book and J is snoozing off to my side. He went to bed early. Had a rough day, was already grumpy and later, I find out, my texting was adding to it.

Girl: How tall do you think I am? Come on smart guy. What size bra do you think I wear? LOL

WHOA! Hold the phone!! GUY??? I start coughing because now I realize she must have given her info to more than just me. AND, not only did she not remember my name, but she didn’t remember the name of the guy she met - because unless we had the same name, I did introduce myself in the very beginning.

So now she has switched from a crazy lesbian bitch to a weird, desperate for a date girl.

What did I say? Nothing.

Me: Oh, I’d say you were 5′2 and maybe a C chest.

Girl: k goodnight.

I end the discussion. J at this point has gotten out of bed and wondered up front. I slide under the sheets and doze. A minute later, J wonders back.

J: Angelique, I don’t like this texting you’ve been doing. You barely know the girl.
Me: Don’t worry, I’m done. You coming to bed?
J: I let you go out Saturday, and its good and all, but then you come back with this girls number and wont let me read your messages. I don’t like it.
Me: Let me go out? You didn’t LET me go out. I’m grown J.
J: That’s not my point.
Me: You want to read her text messages, here. Please go ahead and do so. Gleefully.
J: Angelique, that isn’t the point.
Me: What is your point, J? What? Are you afraid that I went out and picked up a woman? Hell I came home EARLY that night? You think we made out in the bathroom stall? Fuck!
J: I’m just trying to protect you. She seems too friendly.
Me: Yea. I got that too. I can handle it. (I don’t tell him that she obviously thinks I have a penis or something)
J: Okay. I’ll leave it to you to manage then. (He lays down next to me, not realizing I’m fuming now. He doesn’t bother to read the text messages on my phone.)

A minute later…
J: Give me a kiss babe.
Me: No.
J: Why not? (He has the nerve to sound offended)
Me: Because you don’t trust me! You think I’m not capable of realizing she’s got the stalker gene? You think I can’t handle a woman just as well as I neuter the men that fuck with me? What did I really do here to piss you off? Did I make out with someone? Did I flirt with someone? Send naked pictures? What did I do J? I had a conversation. I spoke with someone and you got bent over it.
Thanks, that means you don’t trust me.

Silence.

Ten minutes later.

J: Yeah. You’re right. I was being an ass.
Me: Thanks. I was aware.
J: I’m sorry, babe. I just worry about you when I’m not with you.
Me: I can handle myself. I already told you that.
J: And I believe you. I do trust you.
Me: Thank you, J.
J: Can I have a kiss now?
Me: No.

Needless to say, he got his way. He does have this ability to weasel his way into my heart. We kissed, we made up (twice)…

No text messages today, but now, how in the world do I handle this girl?

I spent the weekend at two birthday parties for two very distinct people. I like those parties spent at home (mine or theirs) because you can have all of your friends over, have conversation, and not have it interrupted by club music, or a waiter that wants you to evacuate the table. J has converted me on this as the boys often gather here or another home, to just catch up.

The first, a long time friend of mine, was celebrating her 32nd birthday. She is someone who goes all out for every birthday, mine included, and hers was no less. She hired some fire dancers, and at last check, had a date with one of the guys. (Bet that will be some kinky sex, babe!) She reminds me that life is not all serious and is not all about me or you, all of the time, but when it is, it should be celebrated and enjoyed. Thank you, Amy.

The second, was J’s friend from law school. Jealously, I’d like to add that she is hot, single and not bi-sexual. Blissfully, the idea of J and her as a couple is laughable, and you get that from the outset. She’s a real ball buster and I like that about her because she does it without the feminist angle. There is nothing like a woman who can neuter you without playing the victim role. Hi-five, Mari!

On some crazy impulse, at the second party yesterday, J and I were overcome with lust. Ever have it just hit you out of no where? It just took a look and all of the sudden, we were making out like a couple of teenagers in a public restroom at the hotel where the second one was held. Thank God for locks because this sex was held on the sink and against the wall of the above mentioned ladies room.

The teethmarks on my neck and shoulders didn’t go unnoticed, but J knew they wouldn’t as I was wearing a dress that showed off both areas. He did it on purpose and this morning I noticed some bruising. I wish I knew how he keeps his focus like that. I can’t do those things mid-sex because I’m wrapped up in the sensation of it all. He plays my strings just right, knows just where to touch to make my knees give out, or my body erupt in goosebumps.

So that’s my weekend recap. Next weekend is the clubbing weekend for me and the girls. I’ll let you know how it goes. I’m going to buy something that will make J’s blood pressure spike.

I find it compelling to push that last post down a notch lest his ego get the better of him. The past few days have been calm, short of a few moments of laughter as S relayed his latest stupidity. Sometimes it is nice to enjoy the missteps of others, but only when you aren’t in their shit with them. I wish you the best, but even J thinks you are a pig.

Hurray for progress! J’s knuckles no longer bleed when he walks!!!

J has another one of his late nights out, work, and thankfully this one only happens once a month. I love this house, but something girly simply curdles at every creak in the house. Even the keyboard sounds loud, you know?

I find sex blogging to be difficult because I am cringing every time I try to write something about mine because then, everyone I know, (ie, The boys) will be reading it. I can hear their lunch time conversation:

C: “Wow J, you really made her come last night.”
S: (high fives him)
other J: “You should teach a class.”
My J: “I know. You should have seen the mess she made on the sheets.”

Just thinking about it makes you cringe, right?

My girlfriends, they’d go masturbate in silence like any decent person does with erotica. Oh Alas!!! to have a little anonymity. I should go learn from the master.

Seeing as I’m not going to get laid this evening, and not going to be able to write about it just yet, even if I do…

I’ll just be bored and go read a book. I loooove Vampires.

I love slow, lazy mornings. J didn’t have anything to do until later, and I blissfully, didn’t book any clients until sometime around 4 this afternoon as a result. We still woke up early, as we always do, grabbed a quick breakfast and went out for a run. J is a good influence in that arena; I feel better than I ever have and everything that is soft on me, are things that should be soft on a woman.

A joint shower later, thanks to this monstrous and wonderful shower, and we were back in bed just wasting away the hours. Sex, yes, the toe-curling sort that makes my nipples hard as I read the sentence back in my head. J’s lips on my neck, his fingers on my waist, his sexy tongue kisses make me think of him when he is gone and show my hand so that I am defeated before he ever returns.

I am his…terrifyingly so. He holds from me something that he knows I want to hear. I am not sure if it is to torture me or to somehow wait for the right, perfect moment. Both are in his ability, and part of his sadistic mind. I love it and in so, serve as his masochist, physically, emotionally, mentally. So consumed.

His actions tell me so much, and make my feminine mind leap here and there between telling myself what I want to hear, and telling myself I am a fool for believing it. Today, on this slow lazy day of conquest, when I kissed him goodbye, I felt him say it against my lips…I think.

I fancy myself on a precipice but have already long fallen. I am his…beautifully so. I love you J.

It’s been raining all morning. When I stepped out the humidity screamed rainstorm like nothing else. My hair frizzed and since then I’ve been running errands in crappy spring-in-Texas rain, with frizzy, ugly hair. My vanity is in my hair. I love it, and when it looks bad, I am usually in a bad mood. Not, you know, in a pouting starlet sort of way, but I don’t feel confident.

In cold weather, my mom used to make us comfort food. You know the sort, cookies, muffins, mashed potatoes and a wonderful Étouffée that could knock your socks off. All of those things are great, not for your waistline, but certainly for your attitude after one of days like I’ve had today. So I whipped out a recipe my sister sent me from Ohio - white chili. It’s made with chicken, three kinds of white beans, green chilies, onions, white corn and served with sour cream and Monterrey jack cheese. I love the stuff and if you stick with fat free sour cream (I refuse to purchase fat free cheese) then it isn’t bad for your waist. J insists on cornbread on the side - my southern man.

All this done while watching HGTV and fantasizing about a time when I’ll want to do something with this house. There were a few things that J and I changed outside when he purchased this place, but inside its contemporary meets old world, and perfect for my girlie heart. I think however, I am going to paint something red. Chili pepper red. We’ll have to see how that goes over with the big man, but I think I’ve got the inside track there.

He should be home soon and we’ll head next door to watch movies with the group. I AM LEGEND is on the list I’m told, but I also purchased Enchanted while I was out today. If the girl ratio is right — it goes in afterwards. Zombie movie watching should be rewarded with a prize, right?

It has been one of those Fridays for both of us. Crazy lunatic people (my day) and his day of dealing with ‘inferior’ (translate: dumbass) people. We were invited out to go to a new club this evening. J didn’t like the idea, one because he would be surrounded by women whose obsession wasn’t cock. I loved it and was excited about going… all up until 3 pm. Sometime during the hours of 3 and 7 (long window) my energy level went from perky (translate: I can take on the world) to ‘I hate this place and want to blow it up.’ The last thing I wanted was to stare at the people who I work with….drunk.

J who isn’t the master at dealing with changes of plans, and who had expected me to go out with the ladies this evening, altered his plans and decided to make a home night of it. We never, ever, do this. J has the energy of five men, and for someone who is wholly incapable of sucking down an energy drink, coffee or a power shot, this is amazing. It’s almost a freaking natural health commercial in and of itself. I’m digressing here.

So we stopped by the grocery store, picked up a ton of food and brought it home and have been doing nothing more than vegging all night long - between bouts of unadulterated sex. (I don’t know how people with kids keep a constant schedule - it would drive me batty!)

It was a refreshing change of pace. I didn’t have to pick out skimpy lingerie that matched what ever obscene thing I chose to wear (I dress fairly outlandishly - at the club). And with the bar here a drink or two doesn’t require a trip to the store. (Don’t even attempt to open that bottle of dusty brandy he’s got. Expensive something.. blah blah blah.)

The latter comment which I uttered outloud earned me a fairly brutal whipping (sigh), which he told me I also needed to add to this post lest his image as a bad ass (OW!) errr… Lord of all things good and yummy (OW!) errrr… the greatest man all all the Earth (Whew) be altered.

If you’ve followed me thus far, you’ve kept up with my scurrying train of thought and have earned a prize….

Pick it up at the following address:
OW
OW
OW
(Omitted per the harsh task Master next door)

Kisses,

Angelique

So we’ve decided to move in together. It’s a huge move for him, Mr. Non-commitment, but I think he forgets that it is a huge move for me too. I’ve never lived with someone before. Me. I’m all about sex and whatnot, but when it comes to ‘my space’ I need ‘MY SPACE.’ So I carved a little niche for my girl things in his bathroom. Score one for the women.

Obviously we didn’t decide on sharing my cramped apartment in the city, but rather his new house out in the middle of nowhere. IT has the room for me, obviously, and next door is S and C which I’ve decided isn’t so bad. They are like a fill in for J when J is out of town or what ever. All the sarcasm a girl could ever want all bundled up for my convenience.

I’ll write more soon, I got sucked into yahoo and chat and stuff, so no time to write and now J’s back and wants to go out. be good!

He’s such an asshole sometimes too. Let’s take a break from our regularly scheduled starry-eyed adoration to allow me to scream out loud and pull my hair in frustration. BASTARD!!!!

The flip side of that coin, ladies, is that your plans depend on their plans. I feel like I have to book with his assistant to see him. His assistant, that woman, must have the patience of a saint. Thank God she’s old (I guess J picked up that tip from S). Otherwise, I’d hate her.

J has this habit of putting everything up. He uses a glass and when he’s done, he washes it and puts it in the dishwasher. His dirty laundry is organized!! His pantry, which is sparse by anyone’s definition, is neatly lined up, in order. He has about 10 million different protein drinks, and goes to the gym for fun. He wakes up and does 400 sit ups. I wake up and get coffee.

(Sometimes I count.)

What prompted this rush of annoyance? J snarked at me for not being available when he needed me. I made plans, because he hadn’t committed to shit for me. So magically, when he’s available, I am supposed to be as well. I have two tickets for Van Halen (I’m reliving my high school/Jr High days) and was planning on taking my favorite gay hottie, Carmen. I should have said had two tickets.

If I didn’t know any better, he orchestrated this cancellation. When my concert conflicts with his plans suddenly the damn thing is postponed? What???!

A lady doesn’t curse, I’m told, but that mother fucker….

Sigh. Guess I’m open for dinner after all, babe. To which you will undoubtedly reply - ‘I’m busy.’