New Year. New Beginnings.

It's been a very long time since I posted. I was caught up in life and in a very private mode. I wanted to shelter my Reticent Amor (Secret Love) in hopes that it would last longer. I didn't want to hear anything negative from you, the readers. The few people in my personal life that I shared this relationship with had enough opinions, many of which I wasn't interested in hearing. Well the fact that we broke up is an example of what is meant to happen will happen. I didn't share my story with you and it ended anyway.

Another relevant saying is that all good things come to an end is true. We're over. I know I may have said that in my last post 5 mos ago (click here). LOL. But this time for real. We reconciled after that post and had ups and downs during that interim.

We broke up for good on 12/30. The reason? Irreconcilable differences. He felt I didn't love him enough and didn't go the extra mile that he needed. This issue was a recurring topic and I couldn't do anything to change his mind. In fairness, there was some truth to his feelings though no truth in not loving him enough or feeling that he wasn't worth it. We just has different ways of operating and he refused to believe in shades of gray regarding this area. Other contributors to our breakup included the complications related to a Reticent Amor - sneaking around, secret telephone lines, lying to friends and family, never being able to fully explore a normal (non secret) relationship.

So it's been almost 96 hours and I'm not sure how I'm holding up. He's asked me this question a number of times since our breakup and my answer has been consistent, "I don't know." The truth is that I'm numb. While I do believe our decision to end was a good choice, it's bittersweet. The sweetness is that I have an opportunity to reconnect with family, friends and most importantly myself. It's also sweet that neither of us was caught by our primary partners. The bitter is that we're ending a mostly fulfilling relationship. As he said, "when it was good, it was GREAT."

I'm not sure how to move on. How do I reconnect with me? For a year, he was my entire world. I spent every possible second dreaming about, talking about, talking to and spending time with him. Today, I ordered breakfast from my favorite diner and out of habit, also placed an order for him too. Only he wasn't joining me. SMH. Honestly I don't know how I'm going to deal with this. Based on the realm of positivity and a can-do attitude, I "know" that I'll be fine. Eventually. I'm just uncertain how long it will take me to get that place. I feel like I've lost one of my best friends. Our relationship was complicated but he was the one I shared the good and bad. He was my go-to person. Our relationship was about more than sex, which we rarely had. It was an emotional connection that seems hard to maintain in absence of a "relationship" though the foundation of our "relationship" was a friendship. I don't know...I just don't know.

What I do know is that I HAVE TO go on in a positive manner. Though, honestly I'd like to stay under the covers with no human contact for at least a week. My job and familial commitments don't allow for this luxury so I need to figure out a coping mechanism quickly. Thus far, I'm ignoring the situation but I know this solution can't last much longer. I shed my first tears today since the breakup but it was nothing significant. It hasn't hit me yet. I'm going to try to keep myself busy focusing on things that can help me. 2012 is a new year, with new beginnings. I put a lot on the backburner last year to focus on my now defunct relationship. Do I regret it? I don't know. I can't venture into that mental space right now. Instead I'm focusing on the future.

Have you ever had trouble dealing with a breakup? How did you handle it? Any advice for me???

All of It

I was thinking yesterday.

I was marveling. At how much it kept getting better. Over time.
I was wondering what I missed about it.

If I had to pick a thing. If I just couldn't say...EVERYTHING.

Is it your moaning?
That I miss most.
Or the tight pink peak of your nipples when you're aroused.

Is it the trashing?
Or the lightly red hair there. The musky smells. The sweetness. The simple joy in just laying my face there. Before I even taste you.

Is it the tension, deep in my belly? As soon as I put my hands on you. The wetness that forms between my own legs, as I begin to run my hands over your hips.

I wonder if it is the first breath I take when you're laying in front of me. Or the tiny bites up your thighs.
The first touch. The first moment my tongue touches you there. And I stop. Breathing deeply. Because it never disappoints. Because it's always better than the last time. And then the deep tasting. My eagerness. As though there won't be enough of you for me to have.

Is it burying my tongue there? Nibbling. Holding you between my tongue and upper lip. Keeping my hands on you. Touching you places where there is more of you to enjoy than meets the eye.
Is it how my tasting dispells myths. How you like to be laved everywhere. EVERYwhere. The outer and inner spaces. The space between. Your shivering, and writhing beneath my mouth. The sound of you...the rhythm of our call and response.

Is it putting my fingers inside as I'm tasting? And feeling you there. All of you. Incomprehensibly tight and open at once. Wet to dripping, wanting. Giving me so much in your surrender. More than I knew to find there. More than I knew to take. More. Than ever.

I don't want you less. I haven't forgotten. I remember. All of it.

What is one to do? When memories are like torture and the future lays ahead without solutions?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

I got 99 problems...

I swear, I’ve considered slashing tires and throwing large objects through windshields at least twice in the last couple of months. One individual’s bitchassness has annihilated my whole life’s quota of patience for bullshittery.

My ‘best friend’ turned out to be the biggest bitch I've known thus far. For almost six years I entertained our half assed, long-distance romantic involvement and considering I haven’t even seen a quarter century yet that’s a whole lot of my lifetime to be pissin' on asshole! We spent the majority of that time in an open arrangement where we both saw other people and I felt surprisingly comfortable in it. We spent time with each other as much as we possibly could given the 3000 miles between us and our communication was solid. Not even three days had gone by in all of those years without my talking to him. And, it worked because above all I was truly, madly, deeply, stupidly in love. Not one of the men I saw could disrupt that.

Six years of history, and as soon as I requested a bit of security, he sidelined me with a truckload of nonsense. Fuck you, dawg. Over the span of eighteen months he toyed with my emotions, bulldozing my heart and building insecurities in his aftermath. At the beginning, helping to forge plans where we could live and be closer to one another and in the end tragically abandoning me at one of the most trying times of my life. Our relationship has ended. All I get is indifference from him. Meanwhile, I feel a deep sense of betrayal, resentfulness, and anger. I should take up boxing or mixed martial arts or something because the way I feel, I could do his property some serious harm!

The first time I propositioned him with commitment he asked for time to test the waters and date around. He cried about how he loved me so much but that he hadn't truly dated much outside of us for all of those years despite our 'open' status and I believed him. He began dating Jumpoff #1 right away. I mean, he could have set a Guinness record. And this dude had the audacity to let his hoe put up Facebook pictures and such. Wow. Now my friends want to know what's going on, who chick is, what happened to us, etc. Okay, bitch you're putting our business in the streets this recklessly? Jumpoff #1 messaged me once asking ridiculous questions about my intentions with him. Are you serious? Meanwhile my bitch and I were still talking almost every day, he visited me and I visited him. We chilled, were intimate and still had great times together so I felt comfortable with Jumpoff #1's unimportance. They inevitably broke it off and he played around with Jumpoff #1.5 who is a blip in drama-filled history so we'll skip to the next one. Unbeknown to me, he soon got into something else with another hoe, Jumpoff #2 who had the audacity to call me once at 4am in the morning, notifying me that she had been dating him for a month, had sex with him and warning me that I ought to stop calling and give him space to be with her. It was an immature move. Dude, handle your pussy ... i mean posse. They stay getting out of line. Looking back I must admit that I appreciate her hoe antics, because she'd exposed something I had no idea about.

After the break up with #2, he claimed to want to take things slowly and make things work with me but I would soon learn of #3, who'd somehow earn her foundation during that last failed attempt and was waiting in the woodworks ... a good friend of #1 mind you. Did I not say these hoes roll in packs? I don't even have the energy to describe the nonsense that ensued except he did a good job of belittling me to a depressed pulp then abandoning me completely when I was at my loneliest. He entertained romantic, nostalgic dinners and sex every now and then but afterwards did not call for days, weeks even and was usually completely unreachable. Then something happened. I discovered that a woman's body has an innate mechanism that works magnificently. In time every thing I loved about him ... his voice ... the softness of his hands, the roughness of the stubble on his face against mine began to make my skin crawl. Similarly, the things i'd never liked ... things like his horrendous snoring began to make his company intolerable. The idea of him in my bed and worse ... inside my body made my stomach sick.

Mr. Rebound #1 and Mr. Rebound #2 failed. Dating again wasn't quite the remedy I had hoped. In fact it didn't work at all. At times I ponder the bitch's situation, thinking about him laid up with new girl sweetly, tightly, contently at night while I continue to sift through a million issues. I have too many fears, little inclination to trust anyone and a hypomania that makes me want to fuck with every dude ... sexually ... and emotionally ... remaining the one chased and in control. It confers a short-lived miracle on my ego to be the vixen though I'm not heartless ... I can't be. I know I'm just an amateur. I'm learning a lot about myself ... what I want, like, need.

Applaud my bitch. Really, give his ass a pat on the back and a standing ovation. Despite those hardest of times, I haven't ever been this strong. Ever. In the midst of this recent revelation ... I've smiled more, laughed harder, thrown away inhibitions, leaped into old-new projects, danced the night away in jeans that hadn't fit comfortably in months.

Who's your bitch?

Please Stop Frontin’

During the post break-up conversation where you former significant other encourages you to state your concerns I mentioned she wasn’t adventurous and that I perceived her as being a prude. Maybe it was a tinge of transference but that was the picture I painted of my old head. Since neither of us can let go I found myself at club Lust Saturday night with her. Together but apart trying to groove in a Latin lesbian club. Three drinks in and salsaed out I was ready for a change of scenery.

The problem with being honest but not clear is that people never understand the true meaning of your words. Like any red blooded American I say prude she thinks sex. I say unadventurous she thinks sex club. It had been an entire week with no sex and a club full of JLos didn’t help. Against my better judgment I agreed. Scratch that I’m a freak nasty whore who wanted to be fucked in front of others so I agreed.

The parking lot was pretty empty but I'd already committed so we pressed on. Your typical oversized black man in the too tight suit was guarding the front door. And after reading all the DANGER, PROCEED WITH CAUTION, SEX AT YOUR OWN RISK signs we walked into the main area.

I will admit to having an over active imagination. I envisioned so much more happening when I turned the corner. I thought I would have to crawl over bodies and beat some greedy man off with a stick. It was Ladies Night and the joint was empty. Aside from a couple bartenders and the cleaning crew who were wearing plastic gloves (that made it all so real for me) the clientele was few and far between.

But this was still my first time and I was still very excited. Maybe it’s the kid in me but I felt naughty and sneaky. I was whispering to her and giggling the whole time. We held hands and tiptoed around the club peeking into the closed doors looking for fun and a lot of trouble. As we left the nightclub portion and entered the "love den", ceremoniously the lights lowered. Party dresses were replaced by bare chests and over used towels covering hard dicks. Although it was only a few feet away I could no longer hear the dance music and soft flirty voices. The energy felt like I was in hell’s kitchen. The hunger in everyone’s eyes was unsettling.

Now I like to embellish this fact slightly. I usually say zero when asked but I’ve seen three dicks in my lifetime, many many moons ago. When I leaned into the first room I didn’t see the 50-inch TV with the porn tape rolling on mute, or the Cuban cougar getting her nipples massaged by some old white man, I saw a BIG, LONG, ROUND, FAT JUICY Latin dick and I instantly wanted to suck it…lol…

I know I’m embarrassed. But if y'all would’ve seen it you would have wanted some too. It was just so big and I’ve never seen a guy jerk off before and the way he was stroking it and his rhythm was so steady and I think it was getting bigger with each stroke. He was in the zone playing with his shit and I wanted to stare but she was with me. I knew some “girl you know you really straight” joke would’ve came up and I would’ve popped off. Unwillingly I pulled my eyes away and continued my exploration. We pressed on deeper into the abyss passing plenty of empty rooms where we could’ve did the do but she declined. As we continued to explore the club I realized she was on a mission to prove a point and I had just become an unwilling participant.

When in Rome… So we got our towels and headed into the XXX area of a sex club. The crowd seemed to be awaiting the arrival of the lesbians and even the staff seemed excited for us to disrobe and join the party. Although I was reluctant to be anyone’s sideshow, I could’ve been swayed. My issue was that she wanted to perform in the big room and I couldn’t decide if it was for them or for me. As she became more boorish and aggressive the feeling of my words coming back to haunt me was more and more apparent. I wanted to be in the club and experience all it had to offer but I couldn't get into the act cause she was killing my mood. One, we were having too many relationship issues to be having sex let alone in a sex club. Two, I wasn’t feeling her deeply right at that moment so I didn’t feel safe and respected and three, I’m gay not a novelty sideshow and her pressing me to go into the fish bowl with the big ass looking glass was not the business.

Me being the pushover I am I went laid down my towels and disrobed. So I was feeling sexual but I wasn't horny. I didn’t feel comfortable watching the other people so I wasn’t getting turned on but if we going to lay down to do it in this setting please don’t whisper “baby I want to make love to you” Bitch is you stupid, FUCK ME! No sooner had I propped my head up on the pillow than some middle-aged Hispanic dude plops his ass on the bed next to us talking about “oh ok ok parti timeah.” I was fine with that and perhaps even turned on a little but now she wants to get over protective and starts talking shit. I’m thinking what did you think was going to happen in the orgy room at the sex club!? We commence to “love making” when I felt an awkward tugging on my right nipple. I almost flipped until I realized it was middle-aged Hispanic dude's wife but she put an end to that too. Our audience quickly got bored with the tease and left. To make a long story short I couldn’t cum but I gave her some good head we went home.

Lessons learned: #1 Don’t bring sand to the beach. #2 Everyone deserves a day to step outside of themselves (I should have at least touched the dick).

Have you ever had a shoulda coulda woulda moment?

So I Got My Nut

I knew it was a bad idea before I even walked down the bumpy road. Maintaining a relationship with an ex right away never works and throwing sex into the equation at ANY point is probably not wise. Ok so I did both. Soon after the break up we were talking and hanging like we never broke up. Singing I love you and all the mushy mess.After some evaluation I realized I didn’t really want a relationship. I was lonely, needed time to let go and wanted some familiar sex.

So we planned to hangout Saturday night and go the club. I told myself I needed to spend the night so I could be near the carwash I like close to her house…lol.. I stroll in wearing my freakum dress. I flirt and kiss and finally break her down for the goodies.

We had mind-blowing squirt across the room sex all weekend and the only thought I could come up with was this was wrong. I’ve maintained that this was a break and not a break-up because I truly thought we would get back together once I handled a few things but the weekend truly made it clear. Now I’m feeling horrible because my actions gave some false hope messed up her healing process and what she predicted is starting to happen.

I want to pull away. I want to remain friendly but I don’t want to be friends. And I truly don’t want to have sex again.

How can the wicked witch of the west make a clean exit and save face?

When Love Is the Problem

So I’m going through a real bonafide break up. I’m getting through the hurt of losing a love and evaluating the mistakes I made. I miss her dearly and we are actually becoming good friends but now we are going into week two and I’m over this friend shit.

We decided that “space” and “building a foundation of friendship” is important to our future success but I’m becoming a true believer that this friends with your ex nonsense is for the birds! I enjoy the light flirting, easy conversation and no strings but we have a BIG part missing and now I don’t wanna be friends.

To put it mildly I’M HORNY AS HELL. I consider myself a sex kitten but for the past week I’ve been feeling like a fuckin’ cougar. My Pom Pom is jumpin’ and I have no local back ups to tame the tiger. This fire in my loins has me seeing double and stepping outside of myself. I’m not one for casual sex or random hook ups, but as sure as the sky is blue my ass was on Craigslist searching the NSA’s..lol..

I think she put a spell on my pussy. She just got my pearl trained and my pussy is not responding to my touch anymore. I’ve masturbated, pulled out the toys, and watched the kinkiest porn; NOTHING. I put in a call to my nastiest phone sex buddy had an off the chain session and NOTHING. In a true quagmire, I humbled myself called my ex turned BFF for a tune up and she hit me with the, “sex will complicate our friendship” and she loves me too much to just have sex. I was ready to punch her.

Truth is I don’t want to sleep with anyone else and the one I want is feeding me some true bullshit. I totally agree with her points but I need affection, intimacy and a good fuck right now. I’m starting to understand why people stay around in jacked up relationships because of how “he lays the D”. I now know how people become serial daters.

I don’t want to go down a slippery slope or make a rash decision cause I want to be laid, but I’m prepared to fly in my old faithful so she can eat the box!!

What’s a horny girl to do?