Monday, October 13, 2014
Honesty

I am very tempted to cheat.

Not because there is anyone who has caught my eye. And not because I am missing anything in this relationship. I could date, just by being honest.

But...

But I've been hurt so many times now. There has been so much dishonesty. There are so many women in his life that he doesn't bother to fully disclose his relationships with, until I find out on my own, the hard way. The painful way. Part of me really wants to take the opportunity to pay that back.

Part of me wants to fuck him up. I want to hold that secret in, and play innocent when he finds out, like I didn't realize it would be a problem since I'm allowed to date. "Why is this a problem? What? I'm sorry, I didn't realize that would hurt you."

I won't do it. At least, I don't believe I will. I don't intend to. That's not the person that I want to be. That's not the relationship that I want to have. I've been there and done that and it sucks. Really, really badly.

But...

When I'm scared, and my brain bumps low into that groove, it's really tempting.

I want to trash everything. I want to throw myself away, destroy my life, just to hurt him. Just to feel like I have some control.


Most of the time, I can pretend we're ok. But... I'm hollow.

 anjelle let you know at 01:41 am
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Wednesday, October 08, 2014
I Wonder

He says he was honest and up-front with me. He says he thought he was doing it right.

I wonder.

I still think that is the story he has convinced himself of so that he won't feel guilty.

From the messages I saw, he is the one bringing sex topics into their conversation. He is the one continually pushing on that. He never once mentioned to me that they were doing more than exchanging pleasantries. He's called her. More than once. He left that out of his story too.

Whether he is conscious of it or not, he is pursuing this woman.


He pursues her the way I wish he would pursue me. And he talks to her as if I am resistant to such pursuit. As if I would not, do not, submit to his aggression the way she once did. Does he really think of me that way?

Me? The depraved woman who would lead him into darkness? Me? The one who breaks all boundaries for him? Me? The one who would easily be naught but a whore, if only he would allow it?

She teasingly suggests that she has ruined him for all other women... And he eventually denies it, but not to say anything about me. Only to make her sweat, and remind her that she turns him on.

He talks to her about being horny. Needing sex. Is aggressive, arrogant, and sexy with her. Dear god, I miss that man. I love the sweet, caring, generous Brandon that I am blessed with, but I miss the God.

I wonder if he hears me, when I ask for it.

 anjelle let you know at 08:17 pm
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Saturday, February 15, 2014
Happy Valentine's Day

I know, I should have talked to him directly. Writing publicly about things I enjoy for a day I value is not direct communication. Who knows whether he even saw it. But... I can't help feeling disappointed. Maybe it's self-created. I expected to be disappointed. I expected a cheap bunch of flowers, if he did anything for me. Maybe that expectation led my actions and diverted something special he might otherwise have done. But he didn't. The flowers I got were generic Valentine flowers. They weren't what he ordered. He ordered a live plant -- I guess he forgot my brown thumbs. It's been long enough since he got me flowers, he probably doesn't remember what I do like. The flowers were lovely, really. Just... Not personal at all. There wasn't even a note to say who they were from. The only sweet words I got were a brief response to my good-morning. Sweetness I initiated. I spent time finding a nice card that said something I feel. I spent time writing words of love in addition to the pre-made sentiment. I got the barest of thank-you's in reply. A friend offered to watch our kids. One of the kids even went, to spend time with his friend. But there was no effort to send the other. We stayed home, ordered pizza, and watched TV. It could have been any other night of our lives. He tells me that I'm special. And I believe that he believes that. I don't *feel* special. I feel like we have been married five years and all that romantic crap doesn't matter any more. He has the girl, why woo her? I also feel like I complain too much to say all of this. I'm not good at holding things in. Once I talk about it, I'm pretty good at letting things go. So maybe writing this all out will help me move on. I hope.

 anjelle let you know at 09:30 pm
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Thursday, January 02, 2014
Sex Is...

A year ago, we had sex once or twice a week, and I feared for the waning of it. I feared the decline to once or twice a month. Now, here we are, and I fear worse. On a good month, we might have sex four times in the whole month. I have fought this tooth and nail the whole while, but it doesn't get better. I talk to you about my fear, but it doesn't get better. I explain how important it is to my sanity, but it doesn't get better. I thank you for those few times and show you how much it helps me, but it doesn't get better. I shave my legs, but it doesn't get better. I dress up, but it doesn't get better. I buy sexy underthings and wear them for you, but it doesn't get better. I cry, but it doesn't get better. I can't enjoy it any more. I tried. I so wanted to enjoy a passionate New Years Eve, and I almost had it. But the moment you asked about something mundane, like going to the bedroom with the lights off, it was gone. My brain kicked in. Why don't you want to see me when we make love? Why does it matter where we are if you're already inside me and we're here? If you're this disinterested in me, who are you interested in? Why don't you ever want to touch me? Is my body that awful? What are you hiding? Who is she? Are you just going through the motions because I mentioned feeling bad the other day? It was over for me before it even started. I spent most of that time dry and chafing and trying desperately to find a way to enjoy this thing I had asked for. I posted photos of myself, hoping that the praise of friends and strangers would help. Maybe, I thought, maybe if other people think I'm sexy I will feel more attractive and not be so filled with doubt and insecurity. It didn't work. I took photos for you. I saved them for days, trying to work up the courage to send them. You used to gush over the pictures I would send you. You used to rush to be with me afterward. Or you'd talk dirty with me, getting me all worked up. Lately, I get one line of generic response, and at the end of the day we watch TV and go to sleep. I deleted the pictures. Nothing was good enough. A year ago, I worried that this situation might deteriorate to the point where my libido just quit. I am almost there. I don't want sex. I don't think about sex, except as a missing intimacy. I tried masturbating to build it back up but... Spending two hours on self pleasure just for one measly orgasm doesn't seem worth doing. Once, you told me that masturbating was hot, and if you caught me you'd have to take me then and there. The first time you "caught" me, you walked right back out with a blank look on your face. I wanted you to take me. I needed you to take me. I was so ashamed that I let myself be found doing something so embarrassing and you didn't even want me then. The second time, last month, really was an accident. I tried sucking your cock, reasoning that if I started it, maybe you'd want to keep going. That worked on an individual basis. But I don't really want to initiate every single time. I want to be taken, seduced, forced, wanted so badly you can't resist, not... This. I don't want to be so desperate for you that I'll suck your cock when you've shown no interest, on the hope that maybe you'll decide to grace me with your orgasm. What happened to your passion for ME? When did I become nothing but a means to your pleasure, when you feel like bothering? Did I stop being pretty? Why am I not exciting to you any more? Why don't you want to please me? Why don't you want to touch my body, and experience me? Where did the build-up go? Sex is my confidence. I have none.

 anjelle let you know at 12:04 pm
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Monday, December 02, 2013
The Daddy Question

What does it mean to be my Daddy?

I asked you this question, without really knowing how to answer it myself. I suppose I was curious to know what you were attempting, so that I could shape my expectations to it. I should have known better. You always want to know my mind, and what may please me. It's been long enough that I am afraid to post this at all.

Part of it -- a large part -- is accepting and caring for my Little Self. I am not entirely an adult, you know. I need to be safe allowing my adult brain to shut off, and my inner five year old needs the same things as a chronological child. I will talk about my Little Self in the third person, for the purposes of clarity in this writing. In truth, I don't think of it as a separate personality, only a part of me that is usually hidden.

L.S. loves bubble baths. Oh, my adult brain does as well, but that part likes to sit back, relax, and read. L.S. likes to splash, and make bubble disguises, and play with bath toys. This is especially wonderful if Daddy is there with her, making sure she doesn't drown or spread water too far across the floor. She also adores coloring, and cartoons, and playing at the playground. She is old enough that sucking her thumb should be a thing of the past, but young enough to slip back into the habit for comfort when she is feeling vulnerable.

L.S. is sensitive to Daddy's approval. When he expressed a displeasure at enduring her My Little Pony birthday party, it cast a shadow on the whole event. She is unquestioningly a Daddy's girl. Pleasing Daddy and spending time with him are her life goals. She needs discipline and teaching, not because she is bad, but because she doesn't know yet. A lack of boundaries confuses L.S.. She does push and test, but it is a means of discovery.

Do not expect L.S. to take care of herself. While some basic things are within her means, she is not an adult. She can dress on her own, but it may not be appropriate for the weather or event. She can make a sandwich, but it is probably going to be a mess to clean up after.

If Daddy is not around, or not behaving in a parental role, L.S. is very likely to hide. My adult brain kicks in, and L.S. curls up to cry. It is hard to hold on to L.S. if I feel like there is no responsible adult around to keep things in line. (If my Daddy starts acting like another child instead of a parent, I will flip out of L.S. and into adult space.) This is not to say that I want to abdicate all responsibility and be taken care of all day, every day. Only that perhaps care might be taken with this part of me. If she is neglected, it gets harder and harder to bring her back.

Being my Daddy is not all about parenting skills, though. Sometimes... Sometimes it's about being a bad, bad man.

Seducing L.S. is not the same as seducing an adult. If she is treated as an adult, she gets confused and retreats. L.S. is excited by promises of candy or toys. She is curious, and eager to learn. She is also sensitive, and easily frightened.

I like the idea of L.S. being overpowered. She'd be afraid. I like the idea of Daddy taking her anyway, taking whatever he wants without regard. Part of the appeal of being Little is that sense of helplessness.

 anjelle let you know at 11:44 am
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