Steering

It seems like there should be certain subjects I don't mention on the blog, but really, I don't care all that much. Only a couple of people that know me read it, so it's fairly safe to divulge the super-secret sections of my life. They both know what a kinky crazy person I am.

I guess there's something inside me that isn't defunct. Something that helps me to preserve myself. Or at least not destroy myself completely. I'm not sad. I'm not angry. I'm not wretched. I'm content. Happy. Energetic. I feel beautiful. Weird.

I bitch and whine and moan about this man who broke my heart so long ago; everything he does and says gets shuttled straight to my heart for scrutinization to see if it was hurtful or not, how it is making me feel, and so on. I can't take anything he says or does with a grain of salt. I make mountains out of molehills. I can't help it.

But sometimes he also makes me happy. And when he does, it can last. He touched me in a way that made me think it was something just for me; specially designed for me, my body, my tastes. Not just someone with the appropriate plumbing. THE person he wanted to be with. And he puts those drunk bar boys to shame. Really. That day he took care of me and held me and touched me and took time to enjoy things. Not a perfunctory function. Something to be shared, enjoyed, savored. By both. He was careful and kind and fun and giving and gentle and passionate and all the things I like and need in such situations. Which is one of the million reasons why I always want to be with him.

It's usually on the following day that things get ugly in my land. But for whatever reason, it stayed good. I felt beautiful all day, thinking there is a man out there who really really really wants me and not in a gross disrespectful kind of way. He likes my body, the way I do things. And he always makes sure to call and see how I'm doing. And I'm thinking, my legs are creaking with soreness, I can't put on a shirt unless I'm careful, and I need to take care when sitting down. And it's wonderful. It only serves as a reminder to all of the above. And I put my hair up today with the same band as I always do, as a reminder of the restraint I'm trying to employ, and I remember him pulling it out and I remember feeling like now I really WAS naked and he was seeing me as I am. And I was scared, but only a little bit. Because it's really only a symbol.

I'm about to give up on the clouds rolling in. I wonder what was different, or how I've changed. Or how he's changed. It's a mystery. But the thing that's really important is that I'm happy. And I think that everything is still the same with him. Although change is subtle. I handed him the reins, and we went for a serious ride. Maybe I should have let him steer a long time ago.