sex and chocolate

I just had sex. And it was amazing. There was no WE BETTER MAKE A MOTHER FUCKIN BABY!!!!!!!!!!! or checking the calendar to make sure I was ovulating and it definitely wasn’t a pain stacking process where we just go through the motions. No my dear friends, it was leg shaking, toes curling, grabbing the edge of the bed, body completely bending, dirty, disgraceful, probably illegal sex.

As you assholes know we are trying to make a spawn. and it hasn’t been happening as easy for us as it is for anyone on prom night.It’s taken a toll on us individually and as a couple, with high expectations during each encounter, I will admit there was no spark. We use to fuck like bunnies, but after all those miscarriages and falling dangerously ill, my life partner no longer looked at me as his little nympho but as a delicate piece of glass.

Now let me describe something for you, my husband is 6’1, 240 pounds and solid as a rock. I swear I get revved up just looking at his muscle. He is also well endowed…. think BIG SIZE monster cans. (and yes I have called into work because I could not walk and had almost no voice)

So when I have someone that hot, and packing that much heat and me being as crazy as I am, well I am expecting a trip to the er when we get done. But no not my prisoner. He’s slow, dedicated, definitely goes the distance. His focus is all about me and making sure I ALWAYS hit the finish line first. He’s the total glorious package. Did I mention hes a freak? Oh sweet baby jesus the things we do……

But I digress, our 3 times a day fuck fest turned to 3 times a week, then once a week, to now maybe every month or so. With the PCOS and lupus, I gained weight, my joints constantly hurt, my hair was falling out in clumps, I had a kidney infection every other week, and I had lesion all across my skin. I was extremely tired 24/7, and usually in the hospital for fluids and meds. I looked at myself and thought I wouldn’t even touch me so why would I even expect or wish he would. As I got sicker I became more angry and more withdrawn. When we did have sex we could literally hear my joints popping and popping. When I had seizure during sex thats when all fuckery was wiped from the table. I caught him masturbating more, looking at chat sites. I didnt even blame him.

 

but one day he went to work and kissed me goodbye, and I got out of bed. Slowly of course and cursing everyone in the world. I then took a few massive hits, and did the unthinkable. I took a shower, by myself. Lemme tell you nothing feels as good as being independent again. I washed my hair, brushed my teeth, and then I went for the gold. I did my hair and makeup. Yes I know I’m amazing. I even put on my spanx. I threw on a cute little dress, and when he walked through the door it was on.

for like a second. He spun me around and bent me over hard and I got a sudden ungodly pain in my stomach that sent me to the ground. I apparently had two hernias that I knew nothing about and that was the straw that broke their back. I laid on my back gripping my stomach tears pouring down my face, and he LITERALLY CUT MY SPANX to see this GIANT MOTHERFUCKING COCKSUCKING SON OF A BITCH LUMP

the size of a goddamn softball on top of my belly button. well date night is obviously over and he picks me up and rushes me to the e.r the entire time apologizing to me. we get to the hospital and 10 hours later I am scheduled for surgery in two weeks and on strict bed rest. My husband has not since then touched me and it has been 4 FUCKING MONTHS.

but that all changed today! And lemme tell you. I had a big ball of fuzzy frizzy hair that i definitely needed to wash piled on top of my head, and was wearing my black leggings, and a black t shirt. Yup that was oh so sexy outfit. We had just gotten back from the store and I decided fuck it I own him I can kiss him when I want to. Somehow what was suppose to be a brief quick kiss ended up him being pushed up against a wall, and me ripping his clothes off. and boys and girls we were off to the races.

 

If anyone can tell you PCOS AND LUPUS make you feel like the most unattractive blob in the world and they hit you where it hurts. For months I have been dealing with depression and self deprecating thoughts because for us sex is how we connect. Its how we heal after a fight, and become close again. Its how we say I love you and those diseases strip you of it in some bullshit way. But assholes I got my grove back.

 

So yes I am typing this with a big ass grin on my face, some dried up love goo still on my face (hahaha money shots) and the inability to walk or talk (sorry neighbors) but lemme tell you this I didn’t let my diseases beat me or take my marriage down with it. My husband still tells me I look beautiful and kisses me even when I am less than desirable. and afterward we cuddled and talked baby names over takeout.

 

I aim to please

L.B

 

 

nothing nice to say..

Hey ya’ll.

 

Im having a tough few days, and I have nothing really to say. Depression, life,fatigue, pcos, lupus, & this bullshit mother fuckin period are kicking my ass today, and I have no will or drive to do shit. The best I can do is pick myself up, and tease it to jesus, put on some war paint and fake it. Life and reality are weighing down a bit, and as much as I am sick of the bullshit, I need to be the strong one for my life prisoner. Because thats love. Hes always the strong one, the mentally and emotionally stable one, the alibi, my get out of jail card. And right now life is kicking his ass, and he isnt able to deal and that’s okay. It doesnt make him less of a man in my eyes. I actually catch myself falling more in love with my giant sack of shit, because of it. So here I am, crying, voices in my head screaming on and on, watching my own little world burn to the fucking ground, and I will dig deep, grow a pair, and make this drink a double, so that I can look him in the eyes, and say its going to be okay, I got you.

 

ARE WE OUT OF WOODS YET?

L.B

 

A letter to my life prisoner

dear J.R

I may talk shit, I maybe mouthy. I know I cuss, and I have a temper, and I have mood swings, and you seriously dont know what personality your are going to get. I know that I make it seem impossible, and you wonder if its worth it. But every tantrum and dish I throw, every death threat I make, every packed bag, and angry tears, please know I am fighting my own demons, so I can be with you. The demons talk, they shout, they whisper. they remind me of my faults, my insecurities, my doubts. They remind its a miracle I have you, and that at any moment my miracle could go. I feel inadequate, undeserving, and worthless most days, and it still amazes when I wake up that you are there next to me. Every moment we have had has been so worth this constant uphill battle that I dont even care where we are going as long as I am with you. I cant do much about the voices, but I promise to make this house a home, to love you forever and a day. To always be by your side; to always make you food, hold your hand, and stay by your side. But more importantly I promise to protect your heart, and love you, and show you, you will never have to be alone again. Thank you for hanging in there.

 

the silenced vows

L.B

winn-ing and losing.

Oh dear God. The red flags of all red flags. The relationship to end all relationships. I am more then willing to admit this was the worst most abusive relationship I have ever been in. all I can say is that I was extremely depressed.  The cock suckers code name will be….J. J was a blind date, and I must have been blind the entire time. We were introduced through a mutual friend ( HAHAHAHA JUST KIDDING WE MET ON A CHAT LINE) He asked me out for dinner and I said yea. I couldnt even remember the fuckers name. He showed up in a huge lifted truck, and like the asshole he was, he didnt get out of his truck, or open my door, and anything. I was 17 he was 24. YUP. I was a month away from being legal but I gave zero fucks. He took me to some Italian place, and we talked. He ordered a water, told me he didnt drink, and that he was just getting out of a serious relationship aka just broke off his engagement like two weeks ago. I told the big fat lie of I was 18, and that i was in college (which was true) and I was just looking to see what was out there. He and I liked the same food, music, shows. it was a great first date; dinner, mini golf, and watching the sunset off the mountains.. We kissed, and he dropped me off and I honestly didnt think I would hear back from him. At that point we didnt fuck so I assumed he wasnt interested. I got a call from him 10 mins later, telling me he had a great time, and asking me out to dinner the next day. Lemme back up a second. This guy was the devil in disguise. Tall, blue eyes, jet black hair, big muscles covered in tattoos. I was drooling. we went on five dates before we had sex. At this point I had slept with so many guys (no shame bitches) I knew what I liked, and who was good in bed. This dude was terrible. Absolutely horrible. He fucked to get himself off, and I laid there like a dead fish. I can honestly say in the 4 YEARS we were together not fucking ONCE did I get mine. NEVER. He was a one pump chump, and would slap my ass when he was done and say thanks and go get a beer. Oh yeah the guy who said he didnt drink actually turned out to be a drunk asshole who was dumped by his fiance for that very reason. I found out about two weeks into the relationship. Now I still dont know why but for some reason when a guy treats a girl like shit we want them even more. He was degrading, mean, abusive, and a cheater. He was also doing coke behind my back. He would call me a nigger, a cunt, bitch, fat, a whore. I remember when he went into a drunken rage and I tried to leave. He back handed me, and I walked home, about 3 miles, crying in my pjs. He showed up the next day blood shot eyes, huge thing of roses, tears in his eyes, saying that would never happen again. He begged and pleaded to me, saying how much he loved me scared him. I forgave him, for the simplest dumbest thought: I can fix him. Oh sweethearts was I fucking wrong. as time went on, his true colors would show. He would fly into jealous rages if I wanted to see my friends, or family. His drunken nights turned from weekends to just weeks. He finally gave up trying to hide it, and every single day he was drunk and angry. he beat me down each and every time I tried to stand up for myself till one point I guess a new shiny piece of ass came into his life. He dumped me, kicked me out of his apartment, and that was it. The first two weeks I was devastated, but then after that I was asked out by a friend. I went out and had so much fun. More fun then anything I had in the last year.I posted pictures all over social media, and within two days I heard the familiar roar of that fucking truck, and there he was outside revving his engine. I came outside and there he was with flowers, and a necklace, all hearts an flowers, begging for another chance. He claimed he was clean and sober, and that he was sorry and that he missed me. I grabbed my jacket like the dumb bitch I was and jumped in that truck. I knew he was dangerous, I knew he could kill me, but I wanted him to love me. and for the next year, I lived with him, being beaten, degraded inching towards death each and everyday. I wanted to kill myself.there was a gate tall, and boarded, and the only way out of our home. He put bars on the windows, and when he left to work, he would put a padlock on the gate. I could not leave. One day I had gotten brave said I was going to leave him, and he decided to punch me in the back of the head and dragged me to the front door. He locked the front door, and put the padlock on the gate so I was stuck in the tiny yard, like a dog, and he left me there for a hour and a half, in the 120 degree heat, with no water. I ended up blacking out and woke up to him dragging me into the house and him dumping water on me. I gave up then. I knew there was no escaping him. He finally allowed me to get a job, at a shitty little store, and took my paychecks. One night he picked me up from work, almost running over my male manager for being too close to me, and was drunk on a bottle of patron. I was scared but he usually forced me to get in the car with him while he was drunk by grabbing a fistful of my hair and punching me as hard as he could. I was furious at him, and I yelled at him and tried to take his bottle. My mistake. He punched me and I fell, behind a dumpster in our parking lot, onto broken glass, and rocks. I slammed my head, and broken my arm. he called an ambulance and simply said I fell getting out of the car. I had stitches to the back of my head, and a cast, and some stitches on my arm. He of course drove us home in silence. I went to bed, and he sat in the living room. I woke up and he was still the same position. He treated me the same way as before if nothing happened. J ended up getting 3 DUI’S while we were together, and his last one put him in prison for 2.5 years. His first year in I was lost. it was like seeing the world again for the first time. I had lost nearly 100 pounds, and i looked so unhealthy. My eyes were sunken into my skull, and the skin was so taught. I was so depressed. I used the time while he was gone, to date, meet, and reconnect. I found who I was. I reconnected with my now husband 9 months before J was to be released. We said it was just for fun but we knew better then that. My husband was the light of my life, he was my sun. He showed me so much, and he loved me without ever trying. He had his issues, and he was damaged as well, buthe*I connected on some other level. I had loved him since I was 13, and i thought he never knew I existed and he was holding me, kissing my forehead, and telling me he loved me. As the time grew closer for J to come home, as much as we wanted to pretend that this was just for fun, my heart began hurting when I thought of laying next to anyone but him. The day J was released I was miserable. He had written me everyday mainly because I was it and he had no one else. My husband came with me even, as he and I were living together in a two bedroom apartment and he would be J’s new roommate. I hugged J, and the whole time I hated it. I hated everything about him. I knew he was sober, and that he “loved” me, but I was angry. My husband stood back and when I looked into his eyes I could see it. I could see the hurt, and sadness. A week later he cornered me outside, behind our car, his hands wrapped around my waist and he kissed me. He told me he missed me, that he loved me. I looked at him, and even though my heart wanted him to love me, I thought he was just horny. I brushed him away and pretended to not feel anything. In the end J and I only lasted 3 months after he came out. My husband finally told me how much loved me, and how he realized he wanted to be with me. I told J and he left and lived with his mom. It’s been 3 years, and J still messages me, declaring his love, begging for me to come back. That relationship was the black mark on my life. everyone warned me and I ignored them. He has left emotional and physical marks on me, and my husband has to deal with that baggage and damage, that is left. That relationship made me stronger, wiser, and in the end led me to life prisoner. I wouldn’t change a thing in all honesty because of that I became a fighter, and I found someone who I love more then anything.  J is still a raging alcoholic.

some people do come with a warning label

L.B

 

Pink Floyd.

You know how they say your first time is suppose to magically and wonderful? Its not. Not one fucking bit. from what I remember it was awkward, sweaty, painful, and so uncomfortable. Have you ever tried to squeeze two inexperienced people on a twin bed? It is like watching a really fucked up version of cirque du soleil, on mute because someones mom is downstairs. He was my second boyfriend, and once again he was tall, blonde, blue eyed, and dorky. Oh and did I mention he was a football & soccer player?? He made me happy. He made me feel safe.why? Because there was no pressure and everything was so easy. He had never been kissed before, so I was his first everything. I remember the butterflies he use to give me. I wish he had been my first boyfriend but I wouldn’t change the fact he was the perfect guy for my first time. We will call him Floyd since I can remember the pink Floyd poster on his wall. He was a total nerd, and I loved it. Everything about him felt so wonderful. He was funny, and smart, and he was a great athlete. and I will admit I burned us to the fucking ground. Floyd and I took everything slow, and we would spend hours after school listening to music, and just hanging out. He tried to teach me how to play soccer, and got me into his world. our first time was talked about, and planned. It was very coordinated lol.  Floyd knew that before we had gotten together I had been raped by a guy who no longer went to our school. He knew the stigma that was attached to me, the psychological damage that had been done. He knew I was damaged goods. But I can say after I was raped I knew that I would never ever be able to love anyone, or let a make touch me. I felt so worthless, and disgusting. And yet he made me feel beautiful again, loved, and appreciated. when the day came for our first time, we had the house to ourselves. he played music, and we just sat there. It was adorable. looking at the floor, not looking at each other. But finally we decided to crawl under the sheets, very very awkwardly got undressed. We were smart for 15 year old’s, he had condoms, and we did it. As weird as it was I cried afterwards. not because it was horrible, but because I dont think anyone is prepared for the emotional impact it has on them. sex wasn’t just sex for us. It was so much more. I felt as if I gave him a piece of myself. Afterwards we were like rabbits, screwing everyplace we could, his room, the bathroom, his grandparents house. It was pretty insane. A few months later right before school started and almost to our one year anniversary, my mother decided to ship me back off to the east coast to live with her abusive ex bf. Her drinking was at a all time high, and she couldn’t handle the shame of having a rape victim daughter(her words not mine). I had suddenly watched my entire world collapse around me. I was finally happy, and in love, was starting to get my life together. I was shipped off within a month, a that’s when all my mental illnesses came to surface. I became suicidal, threatening to kill myself if my mother didn’t allow me to come back. I was scared, thrown back into my own personal nightmare. I thought floyd would be the one person I could talk to you, but I didn’t realize with him being so young he wouldn’t and couldn’t handle all the heavy shit I had thrown at him. It was almost selfish in the end to think a guy as young as he was would have stayed faithful, while his girlfriend was shipped across the country, with no return date. But he tried to hang in there as long as he could, and about 3 months of me being gone he ghosted me, no calls, no texts, no goodbye. I think I snapped because he was my last bit of happiness in such a dark place. I came back a year later, and he was angry towards me. He hated me. and even though I was confused I knew i earned it. It was all too deserving. That relationship is the one I always look back at, sadden with how things left off. It gave me insight on myself, and who I was. I knew after that I need help, and that as much as I wanted to say I was okay, and everything was fine, I knew I wasn’t. I couldn’t be in a stable happy place until I faced my demons, and dragging someone through the mud with me wasn’t fair. At the end of the day if I ever did speak to Floyd again, I would thank him for the wonderful memories, for loving me, and showing me I was worth being loved, and apologize. I dont know how he did it, but I am sorry that he had to be around for all that bullshit. but he deserved better

to the ones that got away

L.B