Fighting The Cold

It’s cold in here.

I don’t know why my family has an aversion to raising the heat a few notches when it’s frigid outside. I can’t be the only one shivering in this house. You and I aren’t the only ones home. Far from it. There’s a reason our “stay-in” dates are more often at your place. Your family isn’t as nosy as mine.

But we’re here so we’ll make the most of it. We don’t have to do anything, right?  Ignore the fact that I’ve been craving your touch for a week, can feel my heart start to race and that familiar throb pulse between my legs. Breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Eventually that raw desire will subside. Just. Keep. Breathing.

Your arms snake around me from behind, hot breath against my neck. I’m not the only one breathing hard. You exhale the same lust I’m attempting to ignore.

Fuck it. I know where all of this is going. Not about to stop it now. A small hint of dread grows in the pit of my stomach, the idea of forbidden acts and getting caught mixing with the need to feel you inside me. I shift around to face you. Your mouth magnetically draws to mine.

Your kiss is deep, just the way I like it. Your tongue wraps around mine as you draw my arousal into you. Your hand becomes a vice against the back of my head pulling me in deeper, your mouth presses in harder. My knees grow weak, you hold me up. Your kiss searches for heat,  stirring and provoking the fire inside me as you breathe it into yourself.

You pull away. I exhale with a whoosh. You always leave me dizzy. I break free long enough to close my door and hit play, music to drown out our cries.

Be quick about it, we don’t have a lot of time. Don’t take everything off. You push me on the bed, my small creaky half-of-an-old-bunk-bed. Our familiar rhythms commence. Your nails rake against my skin, hard and rough. My stomach, my legs, you know how a fair amount of pain will get me going. I try not to call out as my body twitches and reacts almost violently to your touch.

You help me in my predicament.  One hand reaches up and clamps down a seal over my mouth. Your nails dig ragged as you scratch in harder. I scream against your hand, you have me pinned. My heart races, blood courses down to my aching pussy. I can feel your erection pressed against my nether lips making the ache even more unbearable. My skin burns red in the wake of your touch.

Finally. You can’t take it anymore. Lift my legs onto your shoulders, your cock finds its way home. I gasp as you enter. We pick up our rhythm. It’s not as hard or as rough as either of us would like, discretion being as difficult as it already is.

We’re rhythmic and steady. I can feel my internal heat mixing and mingling with yours. You surprise me every so often, pressing your cock in deeper with a quick thrust as your nails dig into my shoulders. I respond with a quick yelp and a knowing look.

You always say you love watching me while we’re making love, watching my reaction as I squeeze my eyes shut in pleasure and arch my back and neck. My head is swimming as I take every moment to savor the feeling of you inside me. The most intense connection I’ve ever felt. Like your cock and my pussy were created for the other.

I can feel the tension in me rise and peak. My muscles clamp down on you as I reach my climax. I bite down on my lip to keep from crying out too loud, lucky to not break skin. The feeling of my orgasm is enough to send you over the edge.

“Come inside me,” I moan next to your ear. I always know what you want,  since I tend to want the same, the need to feel you fill me from the inside out. Your eyes meet mine, ablaze with carnal lust. I don’t need to ask you twice. Hands grip me as you thrust in deeper still. You hold me down as you empty inside me. I can feel you combine with my internal juices, a chemical reaction deep inside that leaves me quivering as you collapse on top.

We lie together enjoying the feeling of love spent before a quick clean up. Get dressed. I let out a nervous giggle as I realize what we’ve just gotten away with without interruption. I turn on a DVD of BattleStar Galactica.

A few minutes pass before I hear my dad outside ask what we’re up to, I answer in truth. I decide to leave the door open. It’s incredibly warm in here.

To collar or not to collar…

There’s a great episode of Californication where a married couple struggles with the idea of Doms, Subs, Masters and Slaves. It’s called Absinthe Makes The Heart Grow. Look it up. Fucking hilarious.

Ever since my mentor got collared for the first time, the idea had begged examination. What is collaring, and is it right for me?

From what I understand, collaring is something done when a symbol of total submission is desired in a relationship. Since this is such an overriding force in the couple’s lives, a detailed contract is usually written up if the participants are interested in taking this on for any more than a few days. The contract is an interesting element here. Both parties have to come together and spell out what they want as clear as they can. If that can be accomplished and everyone gets everything they want, it should guarantee a successful collaring. On the other hand, during negotiations either party might have a change of heart based on scrutinizing what they themselves want, what their partner wants and whether or not a consensus can be reached. If you can’t reach that point, it’s probably just best to call it off.

There seem to be degrees as to how far people tend to take this sort of thing. We have people who have it set up so the collaring only affects bedroom play, while others give it pull over every aspect of their daily lives. In my humble opinion, if a couple is going to go through with something this grandiose, it should have far-reaching consequences, otherwise it’s really not worth doing at all.

Here’s an interesting tip I gleamed from a friend going through this. Set it up so not only are there outs built into the contract for either party, but give the contract itself an expiry date. That way it can be revised over and over again, each time tweaking the details and giving the contract a longer life until it’s as close to perfect as you can make it. Never make it permanent though. People change and so do their attitudes. You want everyone involved to be happy and you NEVER want to use the contract as a way of forcing your partner to do something they really don’t want to do deep down.

Case in point, S and I spoke about me collaring her a few times. At first her concept of the idea what quite different from mine. Our thoughts on it differ often – ranging from tiny details to the fundamentals of collaring and to our concepts of relationships in general. (can you tell our conversations tend to get long, heavy and cover a long of ground?). The more we spoke about it, the more our ideas of the subject came together.

So is it right for me? That might seem like an odd question since it involves two people but before I can ask her if she’s OK with anything, I need to be sure about myself. First of all, I ask myself why would I want to do this. Her submission in the bedroom isn’t in question with or without the collar, but what about outside? That’s really where this collaring would have the biggest effect. We’ve all been in situations where we’d much rather have someone else make a choice for us. Is me collaring her in fact locking myself into make those choices for her? Is the collar necessary for that? I think the biggest hurdle I’m trying to get over is the question of what the collar’s role is in a relationship between two people who already trust each other enough to master and submit completely and without reservation.

I also have to think about what I’d do with that power. Would I be the angel on her shoulder, or the devil? Would I make her do little things that would annoy her and press her buttons just because I could? Would any choice we had to make together be meaningless because I could just override anything she said? Do I actually want a slave? The way I understand it, collaring is a form of slavery. Do I want to be responsible for messing up her life if I make her do the wrong thing? Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. It’s a huge responsibility.

That brings up something from my past. A once told me I had control issues. I more or less dismiss her statement due to the fact that I felt I had to do everything or it wouldn’t get done. If she was right I should be jumping at the idea of collaring S, right? But I’m not. Right now the idea fills me with a mix of trepidation and curiosity. Not eager, not dismissive.

Maybe the good couples never need collars. Maybe the give and take of sharing your life with someone makes the instant and unthinking balance of dominance and submission in all things natural. Perhaps the collar is just a kink thing. something to wear and show off at parties. a wedding ring with a BDSM slant. The contract akin to wedding vows. I think I’d have an easier time with that. I’d much rather it be that way I think. Natural and built overtime in the background.

Obviously I’m having issues with this. Maybe I’ll get past them… maybe I won’t. If I can’t get to a certain spot mentally, collaring would be a very destructive idea. I’d hate to damage my relationship with S over a silly experiment like this. In any case we grow as a couple and the conversations continue. Who knows what conclusion we’ll come to, if we ever reach one at all.

S will probably write her thoughts on this in a post of her own. Should be interesting. I love that this blog illustrates the conversations I have in my love life between several different people. Communication is key, and this is my little contribution to the wondrous world of sex 2.0.

And Introducing…

It feels very weird to be writing in here. Like I was given the key to a room of “dirty laundry” from a place and time that has nothing to do with me. I’m naturally a very nosy person (I’ll explain my excuse for it), so I have difficulty leaving things be. I had to start poking through old posts, out of morbid curiosity, and see posts that make me smile and posts that make me cringe and hit the back button.

And don’t give me that look. If you’re a woman reading this, you’ve done the same in the past, admit it. Seeing photos of your current love and his former flame? My point exactly. I can only be faulted for being human.

But all I can say is that was then and this is now. I bear no ill will towards his past and his former love. I can not and will not replace her. I can just be me. I just…wish I wasn’t hated for being in his life now.  She has someone new, why can’t he?

So who am I? G refers to me in this blog as S. I’m also Mei QingTing in the blogging and Tweeting world. I’m 26 years old, Chinese Canadian and born in Toronto. I live in the suburbs slightly above the city. I’m a journalism graduate from Humber College (hence our shared love of writing and why I’m so very nosy). I’m Mahayana Buddhist by birthright and a Hellenic Wiccan of the past 13 years (my own blog is focused on my path). G is currently embarking on his own foray into modern Paganism and I’m proud to be along for the ride.

I love being around people. My general interests circle around this. I’m a co-organizer of Toronto Pagan Pride, I’m the host of Cerridwen’s Mug – a networking “moot” for the Toronto Pagan community, a regular editor and contributor for Building Bridges Newsletter, and general “shit disturber”. There’s a little blurb on my Facebook profile that reads “S. Chinese Canadian, freelance photojournalist and designer. Quirky, weird, loud, obnoxious, best ally, worst enemy…all in one eccentric package. I host coffee socials, sing karaoke, dance in clubs and drink more than I should.” Yeah, that would be me.

I’ve known G since this past May where we met on OKCupid (ironic for many reasons, the first being how that site never worked for me before). After a few conversations, we quickly learned how far that irony reached. G grew up living a block and a half away from where I live (for the past 22 years). His Catholic grade school is behind my house, his Catholic high school is beside the mall I work in. He went to Humber College for Media Foundations with hopes of entering Journalism (he’s now going for law enforcement, as you all know), all during my three and a half years at the same college yelling at editors and writers while pulling my hair out in that exact program. We spent our lifetimes practically in the same place without ever crossing paths until he finds me online. Some may call that coincidence. I’m Pagan, I don’t believe in coincidence.

One other thing that baffles me in eerie ways. My online persona for the past few years was Rayvanna. For the sake of all, I won’t use that again.

I met him and A at the Building Bridges Pub Moot that month. We realized then that we have had two friends in common. From that point on, G, A and I grew in our friendship, even venturing into the discussions of a  threesome (for the record, I consider myself heteroflexible but I was considering an exception). That was before things got really bad where they ended and I became hated.

I love him. G and I have proven to be rather compatible in many ways. We have enough in common and enough that is different to keep our lives entertaining. I constantly learn from him and he always challenges me to look at my immediate world with a new view. He pushes me out of my comfort zone and I thank him for it. We both have bad habits that we’re helping each other deal with. Mine are more physical (he’s helping me quit smoking and lose weight), his more internal (the process of letting go of the past). Our relationship started on the rocks and we can only build ourselves up from here. Slow and steady, communication is key, we talk about EVERYTHING and aim for the best.

We’re approaching this relationship from opposite ends. He had one long term relationship and the same sexual partner before me. I have had four former relationships (none of which reached a single year nor ended well) and more sexual partners than I can count (I’m not very proud of that). I’m tired of the dating game and G’s never experienced it. We are working on being very open in our relationship so that each has the freedom of expression and exploration without fear of repercussion or jealousy. A lot of my sexual history revolves around the world of kink and BDSM (oh the stories…I’m sure I’ll write about them here at some point). I still consider myself new to it all and he’s just getting his feet wet. I look forward to exploring this world with him. (Btw, I’m on FetLife.)

As for my presence on this blog, I’m happy to write and be candid about anything and everything here regarding my life and our lives and our sex. I am, however, a bit apprehensive when it comes to sexual photos of me (despite my desire of a nude photo shoot) due to my size (I’m heavyset), but we’ll see how that goes.

So this is me in a rather long nutshell. (I can be very verbose, my apologies) I hope you’ve enjoyed reading and I do look forward to your feedback in any kind of light. Let me have it! Believe me, I’ve been called worse. I’ll be back soon with another post as my comfort level settles in, I’m less “weirded” and the “laundry” is, well, ours. Until then!

Stress and Performance

We’ve all heard about how stress can affect your ability to perform in bed. The psychological impact on a person’s libido when they’re subjected to large and sustained amounts of stress can be very detrimental. However, the damage doesn’t just remain psychological if the stress isn’t dealt with and removed from the equation.

The damage manifests physically.

Now, I’m no expert like Alexa and I’m not going to start giving advice like Shay. I’m just trying to relay what’s going on in my life and hopefully it can serve as a warning to others. It’s well documented what effect stress will have on your PC muscle, regardless of how well-toned it is. Guys, you may have been able to hold it in forever, but add on some serious stress and all those hours doing kegal exercises won’t amount to a thing. Keep the stress going, and you might not be able to keep yourself erect at all.

I’ve been dealing with quite a bit of stress and for quite a while. S might not be willing to admit to me that there’s a big problem, but there is. I should know. I know how I used to be able to perform when things were a little less troubling and I know how I’m performing now. It’s not the same. I used to be able to go longer, hold it easier, get hard instantly and stay that way for as long as I wanted. It’s not age, I’m a few months shy of 27.

The odd thing is that my libido hasn’t calmed at all. I still want sex just as much as I always have, but when the opportunity does arise it’s as if I’m separated from the faculties that I could normally call upon instinctively. It’s a sensation that I’d call more disturbing than odd. I can understand why men suffering from such debilitating forces might keep quiet about it. The ramifications can be embarrassing to say the least.

If I let this go any further, I worry about the damage becoming permanent. If the mind affects the body for so long, after a while the body won’t be able to heal, even if the mind can.

As I’ve said before, I’m seeking professional help. S has been amazingly supportive through this, as have friends and family, both IRL and through the series of tubes (you know who you all are, and I love you more than you know). I urge anyone who has  noticed performance issues in themselves or their partners to please consider stress as a real factor and one that can and must be remedied as soon as possible.

I want to hear if any of my readers have had these issues. Male or female. Feel free to write as much as you want, even double-post if necessary. If you have a blog and cover this issue there, please leave a link in my comments.

Epic Fail.

Seems I’m far too broke to go to The Everything To Do With Sex Show here in Toronto this weekend. When I say broke, I mean near-bankruptcy. No fake here.

I’m really disappointed on a few levels. Firstly I was planning on having pics and video and everything to post here. Also, my new mentor was going to be there and she was going to meet my new girlfriend. They were really looking forward to meeting.

Le sigh. There’s always next year.

Oh yeah, the mentor thing? I’ll explain in a separate post when there’s something more to talk about.

Fetishes

I figured I’d copy my fetish list from a popular fetish social networking site here, just in case anyone who would want to see it, doesn’t have or want to make an account. I’ve put a fair bit of time compiling it.

Into:

anime (watching), attention (everything to do with it), begging (everything to do with it), big tits, biting (everything to do with it), blogging (everything to do with it), breasts (everything to do with it), breath play (everything to do with it), bring-them-to-the-edge-of-orgasm-but-don’t-let-them-cum-for-a-while(everything to do with it), caressing (everything to do with it), chakra energy play,chocolate (everything to do with it), comic book characters (everything to do with it), cosplay (everything to do with it), creampie (giving), cuddles (everything to do with it), cum (giving), cunnilingus (everything to do with it), cyber sex (everything to do with it), erotic comics (everything to do with it), erotic literature (everything to do with it), erotic photography (everything to do with it), female ejaculation(everything to do with it), flirting (everything to do with it), foot/feet (everything to do with it), furry art (watching), futanari (watching), girls with guns (everything to do with it), hot oil massages (everything to do with it), impregnation fantasy (giving),intelligence (everything to do with it), kissing (everything to do with it), lips-so-close-to-your-ear-you-can-hear-and-feel-every-little-movement-and-you-want-to-cum (everything to do with it), masturbation (everything to do with it), moaning, screaming, groaning and other sounds of pleasure and pain(everything to do with it), multiple orgasms (everything to do with it), nipples(everything to do with it), nudity (everything to do with it), online play (everything to do with it), oral sex (everything to do with it), pajamas (everything to do with it),science fiction/cyberpunk/fantasy (everything to do with it), seduction(everything to do with it), sex (everything to do with it), snuggling (everything to do with it), squirting (everything to do with it), swords (everything to do with it), talking dirty (everything to do with it), toe socks (watching others wear), twitter (everything to do with it), video games (everything to do with it), writing erotica (everything to do with it).

Curious about:

forced masturbation (everything to do with it), accents(everything to do with it), age play (everything to do with it), anal sex (giving),animal play (everything to do with it), art erotica (everything to do with it), ass play(giving), ass worship (everything to do with it), auralism (everything to do with it), bellydancing (everything to do with it), bisexuality (everything to do with it), black women (everything to do with it), blindfolds (everything to do with it), body worship (everything to do with it), bondage (everything to do with it),breastfeeding (watching), breeding (everything to do with it), burlesque(everything to do with it), candle wax (everything to do with it), clit pumping (giving),cock milking (receiving), cock worship (receiving), consensual nonconsent(everything to do with it), corsets (everything to do with it), costumes/dressing-up(everything to do with it), cunt worship (giving), deep throating (receiving), dildos(everything to do with it), domestic servitude (everything to do with it), double penetration (giving), energy play (everything to do with it), erotic hypnosis(everything to do with it), exhibitionism (everything to do with it), fetnights(everything to do with it), fighting (think mr. & mrs. smith) (everything to do with it), fire and ice (everything to do with it), forced nudity (everything to do with it),forced orgasms (everything to do with it), fucking machines (everything to do with it), gangbangs (everything to do with it), geeks (everything to do with it), geisha(everything to do with it), group sex (everything to do with it), high protocol(everything to do with it), hypnosis (everything to do with it), japanese bondage(everything to do with it), kinbaku (everything to do with it), lactation (receiving),lingerie (everything to do with it), making home movies (everything to do with it),martial arts (everything to do with it), master/slave (everything to do with it),mutual masturbation (everything to do with it), orgy (everything to do with it),petplay (everything to do with it), polyamory (everything to do with it), power exchange (everything to do with it), pussy pumping (giving), pussy worship(giving), remote-control devices (everything to do with it), role play (everything to do with it), sacred sexuality (everything to do with it), sapiosexuality (everything to do with it), sensual play (everything to do with it), sensual/slave dances(everything to do with it), sensualism (everything to do with it), service (everything to do with it), sex magick (everything to do with it), sex while playing video games(everything to do with it), sexual slavery (everything to do with it), shibari (everything to do with it), steampunk aesthetics (everything to do with it), superheroes(everything to do with it), sybian (watching), tantra (everything to do with it),threesomes (everything to do with it), tit fucking (receiving), vampires (giving),vibrators (everything to do with it), voyeurism (everything to do with it).

Anything peak your interest?

WTF is wrong with me…

It’s an apt question. Many people ask it of themselves in times of stress. I’ve been asking it of myself for a while now.

As I’ve already gone over the realities of my past, I’ll now try and look ahead.

First, I’m with someone new. S is a great girl. We’ve known each other for a few months and we seem to click. She was around for the breakup. She tried to help me find the strength to press on with Reivanna, them being friends at the time. Currently, Reivanna is under the impression that I was stolen from her by S. I can’t seem to convince her otherwise, and her anger has torn apart what would have been a wonderful friendship. I still hope at some point things can be mended, but time will tell.

After taking some time to clear my head a little, S made it clear she wanted to be with me. Many people would say that it was in my best interests to take quite a bit more time off before getting into another relationship, but after explaining to S that things would have to move very loose and very slow if this was going to happen at all, and her agreeing, we went ahead with it. Alone time is hard to come by, since we both live with our parents, but we enjoy each other’s company a lot and we’re letting things happen as they will. I’ve come out of this whole thing with a deep-seated fear of commitment, and until that goes away, anything could happen.

Not every relationship has to be a long-term relationship. The short-term, the FWB, the non-relationship relationship… these and others are things I should try and explore if the opportunity presents itself.

Another important bridge I’ve crossed is the realization that I once again require professional psychiatric help in my life. This is for several reasons:

- My first relationship last 8 years and ended horribly, taking every ounce of inner strength I had with it. I need help reconciling that whole thing.

- I can’t take a compliment from a woman. It doesn’t matter who it is or mostly what it’s about, I just don’t believe it. I can’t. I’ve tried. There’s an inner compulsion that forces me to thing that it’s pity or some other crap. The closest thing I’ve ever come to getting through that is on Twitter and other social networking sites, where for some reason that I can’t fathom, people like me. I WANT to believe it when S says she loves me and finds me attractive. At this point I don’t think I could believe my own mother. Compliments from a guy? Sure, no problem. From a woman? A snowball’s chance in hell. This probably stems from my ongoing issues with self-esteem, but whatever it is I need to resolve it. That’s not to say I don’t appreciate the effort many go through to compliment me. I really do.

- It seems my stress levels over the last year or so have caused a few physical symptoms. The latest one is (I want everyone to realize how VERY difficult it is for me to put this out there) a slight case of premature ejaculation. S says it’s not there, but I know me, I know how long I used to be able to long out and how much effort I’ve put into those skills. I do PC exercises on the bus for crying out loud. I’ve heard how stress can affect that. For someone who took what little pride he could from his performance (and was looking to have formal tantric training), this is… well… you can imagine. Looking back, the last few times I had sex with Reivanna were quicker and quicker. She probably just thought I was using her for a quickie, and I was too stupid to realize there was a problem. Maybe I should apologize to her for that.

Once I get a referral from my doc, I can get the visits covered by OHIP (hopefully) and I’ll be posting about those visits here.

One of the reasons I started this blog was to push myself to be open and explore. Now it’s become part of a safety net. A series of connections to the world around me and to people who seem to care about me. As long as I stay connected, I should be able to heal. At the very least it’ll keep me from offing myself.

Root.

I wrote this a while ago. Back then things seemed a lot simpler. My next post will be about my present and future, and the challenges before me as I try to regain some semblance of psychological, emotional and sexual health. It will not be pretty, so I’ll forget my worries in what I once was.

She’d been wound up all day, playing with her toys and other people over the internet. She’s aching by the time I get home.

I tell her to go strip, so she does. I wait for her to turn her back before I pounce on her, bringing her down to the bed and forcing her quickly into the position I want her in.

She yelps, her arousal mixing with her slight panic.

No warning, no asking. I’m hungry.

My face is firmly embedded in her pussy. I’m drinking her in, sucking her arousal out of her like a vampire drains blood from his victim. She is my victim, has been the whole day as I psychically commanded the head in her belly to rise and her cunt to soak everything around her. My claws firmly in her red ass.

Her hands were in my hair not too long ago, pressing me in. Now they’re grasping for anything to hold on to, finding only fabric. Her legs and feet go from gripping my head like a vice to kicking in an effort to get away. I’ve been cultivating this orgasm all day and it’s just about to bloom within her. Some part of her is afraid of it. Afraid it may kill her, or blast away her soul. I care not. She belongs to me and I’ll use her as I see fit.

I keep my eyes locked on what I’m after. Right in front of me, just out of reach of my tongue and fingers and cock. Just below her belly button. Her naval.

The root chakra.

It rises and falls rapidly. Spasming. The pure sensual life force within fighting to be birthed. I make her moan and squirm and scream and it fights all the harder.

Suddenly, after an eternity of love and cultivation, she connects to the primal sensuality of the universe through her red root. Her back arches, her limbs lifting her body high in the air. Her head thrown back and a wale barely audible escapes her lungs. Life burst forth in a torrent, and I drink as my life depends on it. Sweet nourishment.

She lies there, panting, writhing in aftershocks as I savour her taste. As our auras find stability I notice something in hers. A void. An emptiness at her core. She feels it to, and we are once again drawn to each other’s energy, but now she is the taker, and I offer myself to her. Our hips connect, like two poles of the same body, attracted to each other by forces basic to the universe. Our roots mingle in each other’s heat as our bodies move in concert. We follow the sensations and crave only more.

Something stirs. Something inside me. The energy from my navel builds to a critical level and seeks release. The void in her calls out to it, seeking fulfillment. It pulls at me.

There is no caring here anymore, no tenderness. Only two vessels. One painfully empty and one ready to overflow. The dance is ancient and driven by forces beyond our control. I strain against the pull coming from within her. The sensation is so exquisite that I wish to revel in it for eternity, but the desire, the vaccumm within her seek my essence, and I am not strong enough to resist.

Explosions. The one within me causing one within her. Sympathetic exstasy.

They say the universe was born in a bang…

As It Is…

Been a while eh?

This is a very difficult thing for me to write. I’m going to cry several times in the crafting of this post, so please bare with me.

Been a few months since Reivanna and I broke up. I needed to pause this blog so that I could get a handle on my life, which was nearly-completely shattered by that single event. I had to move back in with my parents out in the suburbs, which is causing some issues but nothing major.

I need to talk about this. I need to try and make sense of it. I’m worried that if I don’t get to the bottom of why this relationship failed, I won’t be able to make another one work.

Let me begin by stating that I’m a fixer. I have this reservoir of energy that I dip into to help other people when such help goes above and beyond what the norm is. When I first met Reivanna 8 years ago, I saw someone deep inside her that was just amazing, but needed help coming out. I felt I wanted to be with that person. In hindsight that was a horrible reason to get into a relationship, but I did it.

Things went very slowly. Her introvertedness caused a lot of issues between her and my family. My friends often didn’t know what to make of her, and reading her emotions was difficult to say the least. I think one of the nails in the coffin was that I was never able to read the signs of trouble until it was too late. Whether the signs were just too small or I failed in some way, I don’t know.

Communication was always an enormous issue. I tried. I really did try. She’d want this and that from me but was never able to vocalize it until after the fact. I probably should have paid more attention, but the frustration of having to put every action and non-action under a microscope for her sole benefit became too much for me to handle. She never came out with what she felt until it exploded in a torrent of tears. She cried a lot. I tried my best to get through the crying to actual conversation, but I could never find the way.

I think the biggest issue was trust. She said she trusted me, but never acted like it. If I was not home right after work, even when I was just having coffee with a friend, she’s be home crying, sometimes leaving me voicemail where she’s be crying so much I could not make out what she was saying. Every female contact was suspect. I was entirely open with my communications, and if she had trusted me, that would have been enough. Her most common response was, “I trust you. It’s them I don’t trust.” I’m not sure what that means.

Another nail was certainly the sex. She would often complain days after the fact that she wanted some attention, but when I did give it to her she rarely seemed interested. It took me a long time to get her to come out of her shell, and the rare occasion she did it was great, but far too often she lay there stoically, waiting for me to initiate. Let me make this clear, in the many years she and I were sexually active, she did not initiate sex more than once or twice. How and why do I remember this? I often pleaded with her to at least try and seduce me. Show me that you want me without me having to beg for you to work up the courage over days. Never happened. Well, never happened with me at least. Her new boyfriend is quite adamant that a lot of the issues I had just seemed to evaporate when they are together.

She hit me. I hesitate to bring that up because it makes her look really bad but let me explain. It was not often, but the few times it was out of anger. There were plenty of times I was so frustrated with her that I wanted to lash out but I didn’t because I’d probably really hurt her. She was too small to hurt me. After the first time I asked her never to hit me again, she cried (as she often did) and promised me she would not. There were two more instances. I don’t blame her for being angry or frustrated because I felt the same way, but for her to see hitting as her only recourse when I was pleading for her to talk…

There’s more. I’m sure there’s more. As much my fault as it is hers…

A lot of what brought the whole thing down was my fault. The structural issues. I became the white knight from day one. I was responsible for what we did and how we did it. That reservoir I told you about? A fixer almost never sees the bottom of it, but I did. I reached in for more energy to help her and there wasn’t any. I don’t remember what day it happened specifically since the shock of it lasted for days, but I can tell you it was by far the most terrifying moment in my entire life. I’m shaking just thinking about it. To have something so intrinsic to your identity bled away from you until you’re an empty husk. It’s not her fault mind you, in the fashion that she did not do this mindfully and with malice.

After that point I tried to be more vocal about what I needed from the relationship, seeing the end coming on fast, but by then it was much too late. She had also around that point finally sought out professional psychiatric help, but again, as far as our relationship was concerned… too late. She had finally found some people she was comfortable talking to… more comfortable than was was talking to me. I was happy that she was talking to someone at least.

I should have yelled and screamed. I should have been as vocal as I could have been far sooner than I was about what I needed. In that I take full responsibility. I never expected her to read me the way she apparently expect me to read her. A failing on both sides.

The night it happened was almost surreal. She had been out of work for quite a while and was (IMHO) dragging her feet either finding a new job or getting assistance. I tried to speak about it for what seemed like the hundredth time. She was on the couch staring at a TV that was turned off. After I realized I was sounding like a broken record, I asked her if she wanted me to just shut up. She shook her head. I went into the bedroom and just caught a glance at my reflection. I don’t know what it was about it but the sight made me want to vomit. I disgusted myself. I sat on the edge of the bed and did everything I could not to cry. My hands were gripping the comforter for dear life. She walked in, saw me shaking, sad on the best silently for a bit and and then ran into the living room crying. I needed her to talk to me, to help me. I shoved my emotions down again and walked into the living room. I asked what was wrong, she said she made me angry. At this point I’m not sure what happened but instead of my usual calming assurances, what came out of my mouth was, “I’m not sure I can make this work.”

No fighting. No pleading. Nothing. A second or two of staring at me and then the crying, WAILING in fact… which lasted the better part of 48 hours. I took a day off work to take care of her and make sure she didn’t off herself, which she tried to do a few times. Talking to her was nearly impossible.

I wanted to tell her I’d keep the apartment long enough for her to calmly figure out what her next best movie would be. Months if need be. I tried to tell her that I’d do my best to help her out in the coming months as much as I could. She didn’t hear it, or didn’t want to hear it, I’m not sure. I had to call her father to let him know what had happened, him being the only family that could take her in. He lives about four hours away. I didn’t expect him to come pick her up, but he did. He’s a good man who wants to do right by his daughter.

I didn’t hear or see her for a few days, and when she came back she only was back to grab what she could carry. Actually I had to carry as well. All the way downtown on mass transit. I didn’t understand what was going on until she told me she was going to live with Jon and Brianna. Those of you who know Reivanna and I a little better know who they are and know the history that Reivanna and Brianna have. I didn’t think this was a good idea at all. Three people, living downtown off of welfare and disability and whatever else they could get their hands on, an apartment they just should not be able to afford. She was supposed to start taking more responsibility for her life, and IMHO this was giving herself a great excuse not to. Even though I received assurances from Jon and Bri that it would only be short-term and they would help her out as best they could, it was sadly not to be. Shortly after she moved in, Jon and Bri broke up violently after Jon unveiled his long-standing love for Reivanna. When I say long, I mean years. Depending on who you ask they had been fantasizing about each other since they met (according to Jon’s blog, about a year even before they met).  Reports vary about what happened during that chaotic time leading up to Bri moving out, but it was not pretty. I don’t want to believe Reivanna is capable of the things I was told she did. I still don’t believe them. She doesn’t have that kind of malice in her heart.

I was more or less cut off from being able to help her from that point. Contact was difficult to say the least. I gave her as much time as I could to come get her stuff but I ended up having to move out myself. I didn’t manage to keep all of my stuff, so you can guess what happened to hers. Getting the keys back from her was interesting. I came downtown to meet her so she could give the keys back, and instead Jon came. I didn’t know what was going on at that point, but now it makes perfect sense. Bri would later tell me that he wanted nothing more than to lay me out for hurting “his woman”. Whatever the case, I wish he had been forward with his feelings for her. I wish he had seen I deserved that much after all this. I would not have been mad. I would have understood.

She thinks I cheated on her with a mutual friend of mine. Attraction was obvious, but let me be clear, I did not cheat on Reivanna while we were still together. About 2 weeks after she moved out, I had sex, once. It was more an offering of comfort than anything else, and afterwards I felt bad about it. I have not had sex since I moved out, and probably only once more before that.

She’s got her own blog now. I’ll set up the RSS feed to it once I clean out the existing list a little. I’m trying to mend things. She stayed in Toronto in order to be near people, yet she never comes out to see them. She’s cut off so many people she once called friends. There have been so many miscommunications and misunderstandings that have hurt a lot of people, and it can all be fixed if those people were big enough to sit down and deal. She needs friends, and if the one person who should be most hurt by her actions can do his best to reach out to her, then everyone else can as well.

I want her to be happy. I want her to be well. I still love her. I’ll always love her. No matter how much that hurts me I can’t change that. The more she communicates with me, the more the both of us can figure out exactly what went wrong so that it never happens again. Healing it harder alone.

So you’re probably wondering where does this leave the blog. Well you may notice a lot of missing pictures. Those were saved on her accounts and she’s taken them down. I could clean things up and delete the posts or post what few copies I have, but I won’t. the holes in this blog are the holes in me, and I’m not sure they will ever be healed. They stay. Now, I’m sure the vast majority of you came here to see pics of her in the past. Sadly that won’t be the case anymore. I expect a huge drop in views just on the fact that it’s just little old homely me now. Adam and Eve have been nice enough to extend another invitation to me, to continue my review work. I’ll gladly do my best to cover as much as I can. Things might be a bit slow returning as I get the flow back. I’ll probably miss a few MFMs and HNTs, but I’ll do my best. On the upside, I have a few other little ideas for this blog that I think would still work solo.

One last note: I have four other blogs that you can find me on.

A Geek blog.

An EVE-Online blog.

A Pagan/spiritual blog.

A food blog.

Take care all. Hope to see you around… *hugs*

Notice from Management.

You may have noticed a real lack of posting lately. The reason behind this is that A and I have broken up after 8 years of knowing each other, 5 of them living together and 3 being engaged.

I won’t go into the details yet since both of us are still very raw about it. The blog won’t be disappearing, but it will be going on hiatus for a few months while things take their course. I can’t make any promises other this blog returning with at least myself.

I’m really sorry about this. I’ll be back… hopefully soon.