So I was trying to write all about the tangled web of craziness my friend was weaving in her desperate attempt to hang on to some guy who wasn’t worth the effort, but the truth is I have plenty of my own secrets lurking. So I changed a few things about my blog, deleted the old posts, and now I am gonna head in a new direction with what I write.
The truth is, I am in my mid-30’s. Life isn’t quite what I thought it would be. I write another blog about my family but that’s the stuff I share on Facebook. That’s the stuff my mother reads. This is definitely not the kind of blog I want my mother to read, because this time, I’m telling all… Names have been changed to protect the innocent, and the not-so-innocent players in this game.
I have always said God must have one helluva sense of humor. My latest point of contention is the fact that boys reach their peak at 17 and we don’t even know what a peak is until 35. How fair is that? Just another evil twist in the journey of humanity…
Last night I was laying in the dark of my bedroom. My body was yearning for attention. It was dark and cold, the way I like my bedroom to be, but I couldn’t for the life of me fall asleep. I wanted to make love. I wanted to feel the warmth all around me. Yes, I wanted some sweet and tenderness, but I also wanted my headboard to bang the walls. I could totally picture myself crawling on top on my husband, completely naked, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
I am kind of a shy girl. I spent so many years over weight that I forget I really am sexy now. Okay, truth, I still have a little ways to go, but I’ve come so far. I should be allowed to pretend I am sexy now. My husband has always loved me, he tells me that I am soft and beautiful and he’s always smelling my hair when we’re in bed. He says he can’t fall asleep without breathing it in, but he has always made clear that he would love a smaller me even more, so what’s a girl to do? I lost a hundred pounds and still it’s not good enough. So, even with my body desperately aching to be touched, I just laid there, sleepless, restless, afraid to put my desires out there, wondering if gravity has gotten the best of my breasts or if they’ve still got a few good years in them. They still look pretty good in a cell phone pic!
I guess he finally sensed that I would be open to a little action when he accidentally touched my breast and I didn’t immediately move his hand like I often do. So I leaned in and kissed him with the kind of kiss we haven’t shared in years. I could tell he was shocked by my advance. But I am frustrated by the lack of orgasms in my life. I’m dying to change that.
He’s a boob guy so in mere seconds his hands were all over me. I was trying my best to put all my negative self-talk out of my head and just follow the urges of my body. I was telling myself to just get on top of him and take what I wanted. I kissed him more, trying to distract myself for the thoughts spinning around in my head, like “what if I look stupid” or “I never seem to be really smooth, I can’t do it right”. I was talking myself out of the very thing I wanted so bad. Then he tried to talk sexy, but it wasn’t helping, so I put my hand over his mouth. I closed my eyes and tried to keep the sexy in focus. Just then, he leaned over and kind of blew his nose.
You know what happened next? He ate a booger. Okay, he didn’t eat it, he put it in his mouth so he could spit it across the room because, as he explained, it was sticking to his finger.
And just like that, the churning in my stomach defeated the butterflies that were starting to spin. The argument in my head was settled. I rolled over and closed my eyes, and the dream I had, well, that’s tomorrow’s confession…