• cobertura-de-chocolate:



For sevenoftheother :) 
  • (naked night on the beach, star gazing… and other dirty things done in nature)It feels like a lot has happened emotionally for me in the last two weeks. And I have come to the conclusion that I have some serious ISSUES. All caps, because these mother fuckers will cut you. 
We all have our struggles, we all have our burdens to bear, and I was thinking that mine were pretty much (aside from our monthly wrestling match) under control. I am happy. I am grateful.  I feel loved (even if s/he can’t say it) and with the exception of wanting more time with her/him I am a happy girl in my non-traditional, sexy life. 
My Dad had been after me to watch this movie for *months* ( I am not joking, every god damned call “Have you watched it yet?! You’re going to laugh your shit box off!”), called “My Awkward Sexual Adventure”. I finally sat down to watch it, and instead of laughing, I found myself deeply saddened. The hero of the story was in love with a woman who didn’t love him back. As the story progresses you can see how she used him as an emotional crutch, but she didn’t want to let him go because he fed her (giant, mother-fucking) ego, even though she wasn’t all that into him. I felt for him, pouring his love out only to be kind of accepted. And not to harp on my Darth baggage - but sweet baby jesus, I thought I left this in New York somewhere? I should have ripped off the luggage tags. Like poison these thoughts have seeped into my mind and heart - you are not loveable.You know what I do not want to do anymore? Hurt. I want to be loved. OPENLY. Misty has ISSUES of her own. Love issues. And knowing about her lovers and wife I do not find this surprising in the least. S/he is glacier slow to feeling comfortable in the LOVE word and space. Which I also find interesting since for the first time with a lover/partner I feel 100% accepted as myself. No games. No half truths. No hiding the unseemly, weird parts. I feel like we have an amazing connection, like minded and enjoying each other in whatever situation we find ourselves in. Whether that is working together on his work projects or quietly talking at night, texting during the day or adventurous dirty sex. We do not have one flavour.  
Contrary to how this may read above, when I love someone, I really don’t expect them to love me back. I do it because I feel it. I just love them. That said, I do want to be loved. I want to be chosen by the person that my heart has chosen too (read Misty). That is not expecting love, that is hoping and wanting it. 
Misty and I had a hiccup the other night, where I was ready to scorch and salt the earth… so hiccup sounds a bit understated. It was all these feelings of “No one is going to make me go down the Darth path of heart ache again! I can’t go through not getting picked AGAIN!!! I hate being the consolation prize!! I’m not going to be!” and that caused me to hit the curb of rational thought and want to Thelma and Louise right off that fucker. I jumped to conclusions, I was paraniod, I felt like the biggest joke on the planet, “Boy, that Becca sure is a chump!”, I figured that was that, we were done. Then we talked and I just felt stupid. And hysterical. A hysterically stupid girl who goes to DefCon 1, with worst case scenario imagined.
But mostly just really fucking stupid. 
I hope my crazy hasn’t fucked things up between us… the exact fall out has yet to be determined. But it has made me look harder at what I want, and how I am unsure about whether or not it will be able to happen. Which makes me sad, people. I’m a dream big girl! I believe in the unexpected and wondrous twists life can take! I go after what I want with a single minded determinedness that surprises even me sometimes.And even though I cried to my Dad about the bad girls never getting the guy, like in the movies (he felt terrible that the romantic, pervy comedy made me cry), I still keep hoping for a happy ending. Because you know what you get if you don’t even try? Jack shit. 
  • Shivasana over that, bitch. 
  • Good morning tumblr peeps,
Today is a better day. 
Tomorrow is going to be better (from my ipod list)
Fear is a terrible thing. So is having a trigger. Darth (since he created it) knows how to stomp on that fucker. I want to be loved. I want to be included. I want to be that touch stone place for the person I love. That sacred place. A place where I can be seen - all of me, the dark, the muddy the light - and be myself. Not just once sided. And the other person gets to be all them. All accepting. Dark, scary, light, all the flaws and goodness laid bare.
Darth talked to me about how so many of the ladies he fucked with just saw a sliver of who he was. Some saw a little more, but no one saw him. He wanted/wants to be seen. Hopefully he sorts that shit out for himself. 
I’ve told Misty exactly what I want, what I need. We’ll see how things go - anything is possible. I love him/her. Even the parts that are inconsiderate, darker and self-serving. ‘Cause guess what, I’ve got parts like that too. His non-love love is pretty damn awesome. Even when he can’t tell me I’m the fairest one of all. I’ll take Ms. Congeniality. I’ve never been the prettiest anyway. My strengths don’t lay in the symmetry of my face, or firmness of my body. I’ve got laugh lines and I jiggle when I run - I am just me. Take it or leave it.I forgot to mention that I sent a text to his wife the night when he was here regarding his broken phone. It read “Hi *her name*! :) Just wanted to let you know *boy side’s name*’s phone died and won’t turn back on, he wanted me to let you know.  So you won’t worry.”
I never got one little response. Which is telling. No ‘thank you’? I don’t even get courtesy? Am I undeserving of that? I mentioned this to my sister. She isn’t surprised, but she is coming at it from her perspective - she would hate it if my brother were out having sex/other relationships with people. That is not a life she would chose *at all*. She feels that his wife has no choice, that she’s been pushed down that road. Well, I think everyone has a choice - it may not be a good one, or one that is easy, but there is always choice. What I know of their arrangement is that it is fair and both ways. They have been to enough counselors and therapy to have their own degrees. They have had many crossroads where even though there are so many things they do not see eye-to-eye on they continue to CHOOSE to be together. The love and the things they share must be worth the struggle. Though being cold to me, someone who came into this late in the game, when it was already 10 years in full swing/open-ness, who LOVES him and doesn’t want to fuck with the marriage and has tried to prove that just seems… mean. But I don’t walk in her shoes, I don’t even pretend to understand her. I don’t know what she wants. I don’t know how she envisions her life. Why has she made choices she made? For one, I’d want him/her naked all the damn time - I’d be like ants on a delicious cupcake. But we are different people, she and I. I am trying to make my life just what I want. 
My family and friends are doing an amazing job at being open to my nontraditional life, but they totally relate to his/her wife finding me in their lives impossible. But if there is one thing I really love to do it’s proving that things can be done, even the seemingly impossible. Maybe one day she and I will be friends. 
  • Woman vs Deck and the pursuit of Happiness
So on the deck side of things - I fucking win, baby. God, how long has it been? 4 cans of stain, one brush (s/he gave me), and 28’ of kick ass scaffolding construction later. I finished Friday night, with thunder clouds threating my newly stained deck top, coming to the bottom of the stairs with just a barely enough to coat the brush at the bottom of the can. It was a photo finish, most definitely. I haven’t got my firepit back on the deck (it still needs to cure a bit more - maybe at the end of today), but I am having friends over for a bbq tonight, and I’m looking forward to that. Though I’ll be honest, today I just want to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over my head. But I’ll get to that.I was getting ready for Misty to come over - I took this picture of the deck while I was naked after the shower. I went out there an lit the candles buck nake,d enjoying the evening sun and the delicious anticipation of seeing him/her. The phone rings. It’s Darth. 
Now, I’ll be honest, I love his call. He’s absolutely toxic for my heart, I know. He’s a self absorbed bastard. Without question. I am SO FUCKING HAPPY that he doesn’t hold my heart in his hand like he used to. I can love him from here - out of the line of fire - and out of the emotional meat grinder. While we were talking and I was putting on make-up for my date, I felt all over again, as he poured his heart out about his marriage woes, and his obvious love (albeit fucked up) for his wife, that I make him feel better. You could say I boost his ego, give him the attention he craves. He was searching when I met him. I think he still is. He loves his wife, but she doesn’t love him back in the way he wants or needs, and so he tries to fill that hole. This thought is playing through my mind, followed by this one that hurts me so terribly - “You are not good enough. You are not a tall, beautiful, German, doctor, princess - the one I really want. You will do in a pinch.” 
After I got off the phone I thanked the universe that even though I still love and care for him - I am not the broken mess I was. The cracks are still there, but I feel stronger and wiser for it. I like to think I am better than I was. 
After talking with Darth, I see that Misty has called - so I call him/her back. I tell him/her immediately about my call - about the pain Darth is going through with what looks like the slow death of his marriage. It’s like getting run over by a steamroller. We talk about that as he comes out to see me. S/he tells me where she is on the drive - a particularly dangerous/nasty part of a windy mountain road, and her/his phone cuts out. I can’t get him back. I know someone who died there, on that stretch. I panic a bit. I set the clock for 30 minutes. I get some clothes ready (I’m in my matching hot pink bra and panty set) in case I need to fly to the hospital. I try and settle myself down - I sit at the computer and re-look at facebook pictures of my peeps who are at my Grandmum’s house with my family. I cry. I cry because I feel alone - I miss my family. I’m afraid for him/her. Darth messages me asking me would I visit if I could. All I can think about is how this world, and me, are not ready to be without Misty. My heart is in my fucking throat.And then my love walks in - beautiful, freckled, sunkissed, smiling - the warmth in his eyes and person make me melt. I hug him and tell him how scared I was. I show him the deck - s/he loves it. 
It is another different flavour of night with her/him. And this one is more bitter-sweet.  I definitely think that my Darth baggage made it much worse - or maybe it just brought my awareness to something I should be more mindful of. I haven’t decided. We were standing in my dining room, just inside off the deck, and he was telling me a story where someone looked similarly to me, and he made that comment - “she and you had a very similar look.”, and then not even a sentence later s/he said, “But she wasn’t nearly as pretty as Wife.” 
I stopped him. “You realize what you just said right? I look like *x-girl* and that she isn’t as pretty as *wife*.” I say, using the names of people. "Yes, I know." He says, and he is unfailingly honest. I love that. Rather than try and lie or twist that around, he just gives it to me straight up. There is a terrible pause as the realization of what he has said sinks into me. And I feel second - I feel LESS. I feel that tsunami of "You are not as pretty, as special, as loved. You’re the good time girl, but you will never be picked to be first."
"Oh my, I’ve hurt you, haven’t I?" he says, pulling me so close and wrapping me up I feel enveloped. It doesn’t stop the hurt. All those filled in cracks from Darth bleed. And I cry. 
We talk, we fuck, we shower, we cuddle. I woke up snuggled into him, and a terrible weight in my heart. I recognize that this feeling is my own. Nothing in the situation has changed, just my perception of how things are. He loves his wife. She doesn’t love him back in the way that he wants/needs her to. But she is his/her ideal. Much like Darth and his beautiful wife. I am a consolation prize, but I’m not the girl you want to keep. That’s how I feel today. Sad. S/he and I talked on her/his way home (s/he was late leaving here - so it’s his wife will be unhappy about that), as much as I wish it had, it wasn’t able to lift this hurt. 
I feel painfully alone today. 
  • A year ago tonight Misty and I met. Our one year anniversary. We had morning sex. Napped. Had lunch. Gabbed on the phone. It has been a day filled with love.  It’s been a wonderful, amazing, life changing time for me - this time with Misty/boy side. I am stronger, and softer all at the same time. My life is better with her/him in it. S/he empowers me, lifts me up, brings me joy and fucks me until I can’t see straight. 
I love her/him. Every girly bit and every boyish bit. Because it is *all* of those things that make her/him who s/he is. Every dirty, delicious, fun, smart, creative, sexy as fuck part. 
I look forward to seeing where life takes us, and the path we travel together. I type this with a giant, shmoopy smile on my face.