New Toy

He upgraded his toy drawer. In the bedroom lay a black bondage toy. It has a nice pillow to hold your neck, the hands are bound and tied but it has a nice setting so that it can be really in any position. There are also the ties for the legs. You can be on your back, your body exposed, of course including your pussy, or you can be on your fours, and your ass in the air.

He could try all sorts of things on you, as you are lying on your back, he could jam his cock into your mouth and have you suck on it until it's rock hard. Then as you are on your fours, your ass in the air, he could lick you all over and lube you up and play with your ass. Then he could rub his erection against your body or stuff it back into your mouth. He could also take photos of you in these compromising positions, expect you to smile for the camera, or not, and then jam his cock into your mouth as he snapped shots, your mouth forced open and contoured in a way that made you look weird. He does not care.

He then fucked you and told you repeatedly how much he loved you and how much he loved the naked photos you sent to him night after night. Even though he never responded and told you that he received and loved them. He saves everything up and tell you all at once. How much he loves looking at the photos. How much he loves you. He says "I love you" each and every time he thrusts himself into you. You don't know how to return "I love you's" because he has murmured it with each thrust, and he has said it all, including your portion of it.

He takes out paddle to spank you with. A new chained leash around your neck. He said that he has purchased and used on you but you think he's thinking of someone else, that was new for you. He never had used it on you. Or maybe you were mistaken still: there was once he put you on a leash and pranced you around the room at a hotel room up and high.

When all is done he releases you and you were then sitting on top of him, his cock inside of your pussy. As the two of you sit together he bounced you up and down as if you were a kid and you were just sitting with him. Just then you came. This could be the very best orgasm you've had since you were 25 and dating this boy. He also went to your graduate school, also blond hair green eyed, also in the same field, you dated that boy shortly after him the first time around, it was as if you had a time. You had great sex with that boy. He also bounced you like you did. It was not a memory you thought you stored and remembered, but all of sudden you were back in that boy's apartment on Telegraph Hill, each time you'd pass his old apartment as you headed to him.

Five years you've been together. Today it was the best sex you've had since 1998. Odd how we reach milestone so unexpectedly. It was just a real short visit.

You watched him coming. He looked pained. It was so explosive. You felt that he did love you like he said. You fell asleep in his right arm, his other hand rested on your forehead. He held you like he held his children. Protective, yes, but also controlling, he said that he wanted you to be his and his only, and you tell him that's exactly what you are, his and his only. He says "okay." But how do you become his and his only? You want to live with him, take care of him and serve him. You want to fall asleep each and every night in his arms, and you wanted all of that since the beginning. Yet, all of your demands were met with science.

The only thing that is real is this fantasy. This fantasy that has been living since the two of you re-met.

People don't understand what love is. You gradually understand it. It withstand the test o time. It requires distance and separation. It mandates the parties to be willing to let it go.

Here is a test, you let it go. It bounces back to you. It just keeps on bouncing back to you.

You eventually live multiple lives just so that you could feel more in control. In this relationship, this true love relationship, the only thing you know to do is to be out of control, so that you could be his and his only.

What I have always wanted to tell you

This is what I've been meaning to tell you for a while now, but every time it just sounds like a crazy person talking. Seeing that I'm so far away right now, less inhibited and extremely tired, and possibly forget what I wrote tonight... I figure this is as good of an opportunity as any. 

I dream about you often. You just appear in my dreams, with no prior warning. When I wake up I can still feel your presence. The dreams are very specific, with great details. 

Once I was upset with you several years ago, because I had not seen you for like 6 weeks or so, I'd gotten back from Asia, and you'd cancelled on me again. So I thought I'd never see you again.  I was walking to my gym, right around Howard and Third, and I heard you calling my name in the wind. Loud. It really startled me. When I got to the gym and I found you had texted me to say that you've missed me. We saw each other again shortly after.

Last week, one night I woke up all of sudden for no reason, I grabbed my phone without thinking, and just then an email came in from you. It was around 3 am. You were awake too. Sometimes my wandering mind thinks that I'm connected with you somehow. Maybe in another time and space dimension, we are actually together together. 

There are many reasons why our situations won't change and they will stay exactly where they are for as long as we shall live, at least that is what you tell me often and I do believe you. But don't you think it's rare to feel this way about someone for so long? Especially for people like us? Shouldn't people like this, like us, find a reason to give this a real shot, rather than talking ourselves into staying put? 

I have never felt this way about anyone like this. I don't care if you are rich or poor, come with baggages or not, I just know that I feel complete, settled, content, calm, and happy when I'm with you. I will always take care of you. I know that I can make you very happy. I know it sounds like a lunatic talking, but what if it's true? What if somewhere in another space, right now, we are actually together together? I mean it's possible, isn't it? I Maybe that's why we desire each other this way even after these many years. Maybe that's why you appear in my dreams. Maybe that's why I can feel your presence sometimes. 

Maybe it's okay to ask the what if's. Not necessarily to do anything about it, but at least ask.

What if Take 2

What if you are old and gray and sitting in a nursing home and you are asked by your great grand children a story you'd remember, and you say "once upon a time I met a girl, and I loved her and she loved me but we never managed to stay together. We lived separate lives until we died."
'What if they asked why not? And you say "because I was not sure until it's too late."

What if in an alternate universe I was standing next to the Christmas tree, holding hands, you and I, and you admire the tree and then to turn to look at me and say to me, "I love you so much thank you for being here with me always." I'd rub your shoulder and say to you, "I can't imagine being anywhere else but here with you. You are the best thing ever happened to me."

What if I have never loved another like you. What if when I close my eyes I can't see anything in front of me, behind me, next to me. What if this is what love really is and you are letting it all go wasted.

What if the only thing we ever did wrong is to stay apart, and not make a decision to find a way to stay together.

What if?

He said that holidays are hard for me, because I get introspective, restless, and last year, I asked to break up with him. He did not like that, so he said okay but he did not want to hear any more of it. He said that I wrote back almost immediately, or maybe a couple of days later, and asked to take all of that back, and I admitted that I made a mistake, and I did not want to be broken up with him, and I wanted just the way it was, and I asked him, what is that he said, he said, "I said okay, I said it was okay for you to be back with me."

I wondered, if my request to break up with him, and his granting of my request, broke him as much as it broke me. The threat of being no longer together, frightened him as much as it frightened me, and though he never let on, now, a year later, he'd bring it up, ever so casually, but it meant something to him too, my wanting to leave, made an impression on him, and he forever never felt as secure he once did with me, he thought I'd never leave, I was always his.

We spent so much time apart, and when I was apart from him, I used to think about him, so constantly, so much so, that I dreamed about him and weeped for my longing to be with him was so uncontrollable, that I knew deep in my soul, being with him was the only thing that ever made any sense to me at all.

He'd never contemplate leaving his life for me, his partner, and his children. I'd never dream of him leaving his lifestyle, where he answered to no one, where he doted his children, and travelled far and wide, and met up with whomever he wanted along the way, and had numerous sexual partners along the way, I don't think he could ever give that up. I knew that I could, as long as I was secure, and as long as I was loved, I could be loyal, I had proven to be loyal to one man for 10 years, until I met him.

I have been with him for more than 4 years, closing in on 5 and I never felt this way about anyone else.

I knew he would never do this, but I do it often, I weep. I weep until I have no more tears to dry and I have no more breathe. I think about what if's. I think about how he wrapped his arm around me, how he folded me in his arms, his torso linked to mine, and he just slept in that position, I stayed awake, unable to move for I was afraid of waking him up, and his heaviness made me hard to breathe. Yet I stayed motionless and let him. I know it was important to him that I was there, my being with him made sense the same way his being with me made sense.

Suppose, what if, if he believed, that I could make him the happiest man in the world, that I was the only thing that could settle him, make him happy, and no longer miss the adventures, and what if my love was the only thing he had never had  until he met me? What if we were meant for each other and we are the only type of love story the universe meant to create? What if I would make him happy, not just sexually but emotionally and intellectually? What if this was the person he's meant to be with?

Sometimes I weep for I was overwhelmed by the notion that there was some cosmic joke somewhere? What if the two of us knew this was right and we've spent five years apart fighting the urge to stay together, then we always come back to each other no matter what? What if then? What if every sign in universe says, don't do this to each other any more, this is what it means, this, you and he, are what the world needs, stop fighting it, stop, just stop, be together, forever and ever, you do what it takes to make it work, what then?

Would you ever listen to that? Would you?

Remember that first day

He showed me the photo. THE photo, the photo that started everything. April 1998. He said that's the VERY first day we met. "This is the first photo of our first meeting, the very first day. Then we got together the very same weekend." He continued down the memory lane for both of us. I don't remember anything because I couldn't understand why he kept that photo, why he found that photo, because after all, I did not remember anything at all. In the photo, we were both very happy, and as I looked back at him, he smiled, he laughed. I remembered that laugh, that beautiful smile. In his early days, he was very gorgeous, he would describe himself as "attractive." He liked women, and he had access to a lot of women. I think he generally dated down, as in he met and bedded women who were not as attractive as he, and many women would go crazy for him, like he was the best thing ever happened. I was not one of those women. I was flighty and less emotionally developed. It was only in the last four years, the fall of 2011 that when I remet him, we found each other, and perhaps for the first time,  I was his equal. he was smitten by me, and I was equally smitten by him.

He gave me presents. They were beautiful. Fun pencils, sun in a jar, and Alessi necklace. The necklace looked like a piece of art. He always had good taste.

I stopped writing about our trips. I should not have. But I was afraid of writing anything down, for I already love him too much. It hurts. It never stopped hurting because I know the love I had held for him had never stopped, it grew over time and now it felt very permanent and less anxious.

I was very upset with him when he asked me to take down our photos, and I was upset because I wanted the world to know that we are together, perhaps unconsciously I simply want some level of acknowledgement, for I have never loved anyone else like this since I was 22. But then he denied me. I was to always remain in the shadows, so that I could never be known to the world that I had loved him.  I thought that I'd let him go and move on but instead we grew closer. I told him that I couldn't do this seeing each other thing once a month, so we started seeing each other more frequently, and when we did not see each other, I asked him to call and he always called back.

Since September, I felt slightly more relaxed, and I don't believe that I would love anyone any more, and I don't believe that I could ever be loved like that, and neither one of could afford a change, I am finally okay.

The meetings we had were still infrequent, but I find that he started to talk to me more, about his partner, about his upcoming thanksgiving plan, and about everything else, like how he never wanted to change, and how was different and he did not want to be tied down, and now that he's a father, things have changed, and he still struggles with it.

When he was tired and sick, in the evening, he told me about his past, how he was an RA in the German house in Indiana University, how he had to go and sit in the shrink's office and listen to the girl who attempted suicide to talk about her fictitious life. How he became a father and everything had changed. How he still struggles with it and his relationship with work and being a parent, and how things have changed and now that he's older, and then when he woke up again in the middle of the night, he came closer to me and said to me, "I'm so lucky to have you."

"I love you." I'd say softly. He'd say, "What was that?" I would speak louder, and say, "I love you." And then he says "I love you too."

I lied in bed, and I listened to him talking and his mind wanders to so many places, he'd tell me that he's older but he is what is called a Puer Aeternus, and that he never thought he'd be a parent, and that now that he's older, he is less attractive and he did not have that same amount of energy anymore. He'd tell me that he's only seeing me, and I'd tell him that I think he still sees other women but he knew that it hurts me so he won't tell me that any more. I did not want to know, and I knew that in my silly mind, his love is the pure and complete and I could not tolerate the thought of him wanting to be another woman.

He would fuck me a number of times, and he says "I have never been turned on this much as I have with you." No matter how long it has been, he is still crazy about me, physically, and then there is something else about this now, it's like that we've been together for so long that I no longer remember a life without him.

He would tell me about our history, this time, and he retells our journey together, and my being with him and when I say, "Wow, you remember everything." He says, "I remember some things."

Perhaps it's from my writing, that he remembers and perhaps because I write to him so frequently and I write about our journey together so much that he now remembers.

Once he finished talking and getting tired, then he says, "we should sleep." I still have so many questions and I still want to ask a lot about him, and I remembered how I wanted to tell him, "I'd like to get to know you more," and yet, he seemed to have read my mind and he's started to tell me things about him.

I've known him for so long, yet I knew so little about him. After college, he told me that he went to work for Peters and Company, and had corporate apartment in D.C. Princeton and Boston. He went to MIT for grad school at age 24 and how he wished that he had delayed that journey and not gone to grad school until 5, 6 years later. He graduated from Sloan at age 26 and had been on the road for a long time by the time he finished grad school.

I recall our dinner just a few weeks ago, where he told me about his lives in Bergen, Norway, and then just a couple of weeks ago, when we had dinner in Philly, when I visited him in Philly, he told me about his living in Princeton. I started to piece his lives together. HOw could you have dated someone for four plus years and knew so little about them?

I think it's because I was so involved with him physically, that our interaction is so intense that we felt nothing about anything else and just isolated our lives to that moment that we were together.

I remembered as we started to talk, I began to realize how we much we were alike. We both make refrigerator pickles, we both like the same kind of herring and cod fish and fish oil, and how much we like the same kind of cheese and fish, and that we both had a thing for fermented things.

I would buy him herring from the Nordic House. I bought things from a German speciality store to bring to his mother, he said, "I'll bring it and tell her it's from you." I said, "who's 'you'? She's never met me. I don't even know if I'd ever meet her. I want to meet her but I don't think I'd have an opportunity. It's too real for me if that did happen. I know that I'd like her and I feel that perhaps she's a bit like me.

He would sometimes compare himself to my husband. And I know there are some similarities. But fundamentally I think we are very different people and my husband is very different from him. But I don't think he understands that my love for him is a very much driven by his desire of me. "The desire of the man is for the woman, but the desire of the woman is for the desire of the man." And the real reason I love him is that I know that he wants me. And he's the only person who has ever wanted me that much. And the fact that he wants me, is an indication of that he just wants to fuck me. He often tells me that "I love fucking you." It's a indicator then his love is real.

I recall being in Philly, and when we fucked, he kept on saying "I love you so much." I do believe that I had never felt this type of desire from any men before.

Since August his birthday dinner I did not see him for almost a month. During that month I wondered if he thought it over and wanted to change to keep me or if he just started to miss me. We went out a few times, including him visiting me in my own house. I don't remember of it, but it would have been several times. He had invited me over and we spent a few hours in bed where I told him that I wanted to see him more and when he did not see me, I wanted him to call. Then he came to see me at my own house just before my trip to Norway. we went to dinner after my trip to Bergen, I brought him presents from his old stumping group. Then we talked more. We then met in Philly, and he took me out for dinner again. When he returned he cancelled our meeting but then we met again. So I asked him to call to catch up and he did.  He said that he wanted to talk to me too. One time he called me when I was out watching TV, and we just caught up. I think for him he needs to know that I don't want anything from him. While I know that I would like to have more, I have resorted to believe there is nothing he could give me and that permanent, profound sadness makes me less anxious. It makes me just be.

He tells me that he does not keep in touch with his ex'es any more, and that he is less of a jerk now that he's older. I told him that he's a nicer person now, and that the previous version of him, the playboy version of him, felt less substantial. He said that he was just dating. He liked women, and he dated them, and there was no implied commitment, and I told him that women in America are a bit more uptight and that they have sex and they think you should be exclusive. That was the difference. in many ways I don't feel that strongly about monogamy, I simply just wanted love and a relationship that makes me feel alive.

Once I understand him, that his perspective about women, and why he had a suite of relationships, and some sweet women perhaps got hurt along the way, I understand why I can love him and why he loves me. I think it's because I am not a jealous type and I love and understand him.

He says to me, when I asked why he has that photo, he says, "because one day we'd be together. It's the very first time we met." I wonder if history is made by accident. Here I was, in his photo, where he had kept, for 18 years. And we stayed friends. He always liked me. I had always thought that he was beyond my approach, and in middle age, we look like the perfect couple. We are good looking people now, and we look well suited. His shortcomings, his eclectic side, suits me as much as the normal side.

I stayed with him until the next morning. I didn't sleep well because he was sick. I think he might give me whatever he had and I was sick too. I did not care. I just wants to spend time with him. There has never been anyone who made me feel this way. I just want to take care of him. His desire for me, is what I desire the most of him. The rest pales in comparison.

I am not sure why I wrote down this. I have not re-read anything. The reason I stopped writing is that I want to forget.

I'm scared of all of this. He tells me that he came to visit me at my house. I gave him two German beers. And he met my puppy. We locked out the dog so we could cuddle. But that's not true. The puppy stayed with us as we made out. He called her sweetie. She liked him. Those things are the only things he remembered, and I have to try very hard to forget. I worry about remembering will make me love him more.

He lies next to me for some parts of the night. He embraced me and I lied next to him. I have no idea where this goes. I just know that it's been four years and more, and I still love him like the first day I met him.

And we now plan our summer vacation together, not because we did it intentionally. I just happen to be there when he's there.

And he asked me if I want to go to New Jersey with him. He wants to see me. He wants to be with me. He likes when I keep him company when he's away. I have no idea where this leads.

What do people do with the love story of their life time? Where do they go from here?

Anne-Louise-Germaine de Staël > Quotes > Quotable Quote

“The desire of the man is for the woman, but the desire of the woman is for the desire of the man.”

Women feel empowered by the desire that men funnel into them. Whereas a man just wants to satiate his carnal desires, a woman's femininity - and therefore, IDENTITY, especially in a patriarchal society - is determined by how intensely men covet her. She's not attracted to the man himself, per se, but to the fulfillment she gets knowing that the man wants her. 

Dahlia O'Dell

Flower Garden

Girlfriend liked my suggestion and wanted to take her family over here this long weekend. I hit the panic button and sent a quick note over to her, "should we coordinate so that we'd strategically miss each other?" I liked my morning walk quiet and free of running into people I might recognize. Pleasantries are reserved for social events and not when you need to enjoy some of these pretty flowers on your own.

I take, apparently, decent photos of the flowers. Turns out it's not because of my photography skills or the iPhone 6, which I've already scratched, it's because the flowers are superbly mesmerizing, to the point that they felt unreal, mystical, massive, dazzling, and photogenic.

I taught him to say dahlia dell. He thought it was just some flower garden. Middle age straight men don't always know about flowers in general. They know the names of the pitchers for the Giants or the local pubs where sports are shown, but not the flowers. I told him that when I was a young girl, my grandparents who took care of me would put me in a stroller and take me to the city center park, 45 minutes each way, they spent every day in the park, watching the peonies and dahlias bloom. Peonies are a lot like dahlias, magnificent and statuesque, confident in its own beauty and are used to admirers, and they only last for a season and they are gone. They were the opposite of me. As a timid, nerdy and shy girl, and perhaps still, as a sensitive and fragile middle age woman, I was, and still am, insecure to a fault, and I linger way too long for my own good.

Dahlia garden induces awe. Splendid beauty in plain sight. A must stop if you were to visit the pretty nice open space that is called the Golden Gate Park that geographically separates the Sunset from the Richmond.

Best viewing season: late July to mid September.

Best time of the day: early Sunday morning. Remember it's car free day on Sunday in the Park. Tourists are still sleeping off their Saturday evening's bar crawl, and locals are too busy heading to brunch places, pastry shops, or play structures in the park with their children in tow.

The flowers are now in full bloom, like a ripe woman, they are going all out:  they reach their maximum seductress strength in early September. There are lots of butterflies and bumble bees hovering. However, and not surprisingly, no dogs are allowed. Perhaps it's for the best, I think my puppy Abby would have eaten it all if given the chance.

Near Break up

I lied on the grass listening to him counting the ways we were not right for one another. He could not come up with much. He thinks I did not want him enough.

I couldn’t even if I tried. He did not need to know that.

He wanted to try the no sex thing. Just friends. I said, “well that’s good but I’m out. I don’t want that you know that already.” 

He did not know what to say so I said, “let’s go. The sun is coming through the trees. It’s getting too hot.” 

We got up and I did not extend my hand to hold his. He was lost without holding my hand. I could tell because he knew that was not what he wanted.

I think he wants a bit more than what I could give him. “Something is off sexually.” He would say. I think I knew what it was. I’m too aggressive. He’s a Type B kind of guy but he wants to be in charge like everyone is. But I was once very aggressive, and when that ended, I was very laid back and he did not want to take the lead. Round and round we go.

We went to see flowers, then shopped at the Farmer’s Market, I was not happy to return that street. But he did not mind and I was trying to be supportive of it. I told him why I preferred the other neighborhood. But that was his neighborhood too. I couldn’t pick a worse location to date a guy.

He was looking at me, all pained. His eyes conflicted and I think he might cry. So I hugged him and said that I should get going. Packing everything up and leave. For good. I did not want this to end this way but there was nothing I could do. So I hugged him. The goodbye hug that came too suddenly, that surprised both of us.

“I had a lot of fun. I enjoyed this. This weekend. And many others before this. I don’t want this to end.” 

“Neither do I. We have a lot of fun together. There are many good things about us.” He began to back down on the imaginary break up.

In his imaginary world, I should be dating a marathoner, someone different than he. I knew because I began to get to know him. He was never really secure about this relationship. I think he suspected that I would move on one day anyway.

“But what if I don’t want anyone else?” I answered.

“I’m not going anywhere you know. I’m here. You do know that I care about you and I want you to be happy right?” He began to babble.

“I’m happy with you. Don’t leave me.” I began to plead.

“okay. I’m not leaving you.” He conceded.

I unpacked all those imaginary belongings I had scattered around his place.

He watched me cry. I cried like a baby. In this world, he was the only place that I felt safe and sound. He was the only one who I could trust. He was the person who was both my fan, my mentor, my father, my brother, my lover. 

He made the rest of the world seemed crazy, because when I was him, all I ever wanted to do was to enjoy the simplicity of it all. 

I had no one to count on. I had never been with a man who cared about my happiness. No one to kiss my forehead and tell me everything would be all right but him. 

In his arms I slept and slept night after night. I lost count on how many trips we’ve taken how many dates we’ve been on.

No one knew about us. Not his friends, not my friends. 

It’s self contained and untainted by the outside world.

I intended to keep it this way. 

“Promise me to stay with me.” I said.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He answered.

I knew what he did. He wanted to know that I would be affected by this decision. He tested me in his passive aggressive ways. He wanted to hear from me that I would not bail. 

No man had ever cared for me. They wanted what they wanted from me. They were ashamed of me, they hid me in the shadows. They disappeared from time to time. They were not forth front with me. They lied and cheated and they took from me. 

But he wanted me. It was really that simple. I chose him because he wanted me in his life.  And even then, we were always walking on tight rope. I was, anyway.

For now, we are okay. For now.