The art of being Angelique::J and his habits::Fall

I’ve gotten addicted to sugar pedicures. I just love the way my feet feel after a cute little woman has scrubbed her way up to my knees with oil soaked sugar granules! That aside, things have been good. It’s taken a while to get back into the usual rhythm of things. J and I are hitting on all pistons.

I had breakfast with the boys today, a rarity, as they tend to male bond over cooked chicken embryos first thing in the morning. It’s something about that time that sets their mood for the day, and I don’t want to ALWAYS interfere with male bonding time, but it’s nice to be invited for a change–as if women everywhere can celebrate this step forward!

I don’t want my sarcasm to undermine it, nor do I want to go every morning (eggs, cheese, hashbrowns and sausage do far more damage to my butt than theirs!), but thanks men.

I’ve been in a major shopping spree for dresses. Opera tickets are looming not far in the distance and I want to look smashing for it. The other J is seeing someone so that leaves out only S, who is uninterested (burned once too many times) in romance, and C, who deserves the most incredible woman alive. If you know her, please pass along my blog. I have decided to be his champion, as if that man needs one.

J is back to a grueling workout habit, mirrored, of course!, in S’s. Something about the looming fall that always sends them outside to work, grunt and generally toil about outdoors. Fall sends me shopping and considering, I don’t know, wardrobe changes. I’m still able to keep my figure, but only because J feeds me, and in so, I avoid almost everything that can possibly do me harm.

Who knew I’d learn to love granola? I don’t tell him I ate pizza for lunch. How else will I keep these great boobs? Surgery is not the way, thanks.

I know I’ve been terrible about updating, but I’ll make the effort to do better. I think its the weather and these men, I find myself wanting to be outside more too.

xxoo
Angelique

Bouncing baby business:My new family:Why I now love roses

So it’s ready, (early) this place that I’ve spent my lifesavings. Where I’ve also spent my energy, my frustration and everything else I’ve had until I’m nearly bankrupted from giving out so much. Its beautiful and such a shame I can’t post it here, and just scream out loudly that its all mine!!! But this being where it is, and this blog revealing more than I would tell any stranger, is stopping me. And so are the men in my life.

Men. J, of course, but the rest of them that have become my extended family. I’m sorry for not writing, and it isn’t that there isn’t a lot to say, there is so much to say, really, but its filtered by so much more. I don’t know how to be coy, vague, at least, not in the way this medium requires.

So J and I are doing great. I never would have thought even when I met him that there would be so much under the surface for him. He is one of those great men. One of those men you’d want to rule the world, but maybe thats just my stupid girlish fantasies (better until made real). If he ruled the world, he wouldn’t be bringing me roses, which I stupidly said at some point I didn’t like.

J is just one of those people who don’t ask for things, but you end up offering it up to them anyway. He doesn’t ask for anything really, but when you’ve hit the right note, or done something that surprises him pleasantly, the smile, the words that follow are my own personal high.

I love that stupid man, even when I’m rubbing his muscles from another encounter with S. Which will give S one of those ear to ear laughs, and give me a sore ass.

Angelique

A wierd Problem: Resulting Fight: Resolution

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.

Me: Oh, Well, I wasn’t drunk. I’ll add you when I get home. Thanks.

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: (always clever) I was busy making a list of places you could bite.

Girl: Well you’ll have to show me. I cant read.

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?

Me: I’ve yet to see a mountain I couldn’t climb. Its pure confidence.

Girl: LOL What do you even remember about me?

Me: That you seemed nice, so I’m trying to match that against the texting vixen I seemed to have encountered.

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: wow! you ARE good.

Me: Thanks. Let me get some sleep now.

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?

J:Panties:MeMeMe & My Hair

I love him. I told him so over the phone when he called me at work excited about something he purchased for me. I am undoubtedly totally jealous that he is there in fucking LONDON without me, but it is tempered by the fact that when he calls me, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

He didn’t tell me what it is because he is – Hello – J -’nuff said. I ended up going to rest of the day without panties, because he loves to torture me. I can’t blame it all on him because I did bring it up – the fact I was wearing a skirt, the fact that his voice was turning me on. I could hear the shift in his tone, just bringing that up. I could hear that growl.

Depressingly enough, there was no time to indulge in any fun, and with his friends being in earshot, well I’d never live it down. Oh yea, I was at work too.

On another note of pure self-interest. I am going to cut my hair soon. It is currently down to the middle of my back, a little longer and I was thinking of just hacking it all off. J doesn’t care, just as long as he can get a good handful, he said. With his hands, I’m figuring that I’ll need at least a shoulder length style. Any ideas?

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Author

You’ll know me as Angelique here. It isn’t my real name of course, which is far less romantic and far more practical. I am submissive (mostly), but ungracefully so. I question. I demand. I’ll never be capable of being a slave. I do well enough to say yes Sir without laughing to everyone but a few. I am dominant everywhere else, and that makes this an erotic shift.

I am currently dating (screwing) a sadist. He drives me crazy with want. He isn’t my only lover, but he is my best lover. I hate him for addicting me and then taking away my high whenever he wants. He sees other people. I’d see only him if he’d wake up.

I do and have kinky sex. I like strong men. I like boys, too. Women, yes. I’ll even submit to a woman if she is capable of flicking the switch inside my head. I have before. I’ve had gay sex, straight sex, threesomes, anal, oral, etc. I’ve played with fire, food, whips, chains, needles, razors, knives and electricity. I’ve been peed on. In short, there isn’t much I won’t do except pretend I’m stupid (although sometimes I am) or anything disgusting or illegal (indecent exposure not included.) I also realize that definition isn’t clear and that my boundaries once included much of the above.

I’ve been poly, like the idea of poly, but can’t work it out once it gets emotional. Sex is fine, but caring about them is hard.

My friend, the previous owner of this blog, thought I should use this as an outlet – another such friend having found their outlet here. I hope she is right. I love her for showing me the chance. (I am not the whiz she is with creating templates.)

I’ll add links as I remember them. I have many bookmarked, but haven’t visited many lately.