relationship on a growth mode

I was thinking about B when he texted me and said that he missed and loved me. I should have known that was a hint of him being horny, which, quite honestly, was endearing. I returned his text. He wanted to see a photo of my pussy, he told me that he wanted to see me on Tuesday. When I sent the photo of his suggestion, he returned text and email to let me know that he loved me very much. And he was coming.

I knew the man declared love during sex, but sometimes I wondered if he meant it or if that was the equivalent of him saying "I'm horny and I want your pussy." I couldn't tell if it made any difference to him, really, and that love was more than just an emotional connection but a deeper feeling that resulted one to do things for another. I did not think he's capable of doing anything for anyone but for himself and maybe his son. I thought to him, I was only a piece of meat, albeit, a top notch, good quality, sought after, Kobe grade, obedient piece of meat.

I could not tell if he needed me or he was just too lazy (or too busy) to pursue others.

But what surprised me though was after he had come he sent me a photo of himself, naked, depleted, and a half erect penis showing. I had never seen a photo of his naked self. I felt that he often did that with other women but for some reason, he just never felt comfortable enough to share photos of himself with me. It seemed like something that he did often, and that he was simply letting himself slightly more open with me, and naturally, in other relationships he had with other women, he had done that frequently. It also gave me the sense that he was no longer as shy about his sexual desires and his communication with me, which I liked. And I wondered if it had anything to do with me being more assertive, like when I insisted on seeing him, one way or another. I did not do that with any other people, or if I did do it, it was more of me doing whatever I wanted without having to worry about what the other person thought of me. With him I was much more cautious, in part I did not believe that he cared about me. In my head I was convinced that he'd leave me and stop loving me.

And every opportunity I had with him, could very well be the last.

But as I opened up a bit more with him I felt that he did the same. When I declared my emotional shortfalls, he did not seem to be phased by it, all of that gave me slightly more confidence in my dealings with him, and now whenever I thought about walking away, I kept on hearing the other self saying, "What about pushing forward and creating a deeper presence in his life instead?" Rather than talking myself out of it, I now think about whether that's actually possible. To be more present.

I think this is what's interesting about relationship. You don't necessarily know how it's going to turn out, until you give it an earnest try. And you have to be willing to stick it around. And see what happens. And you have to be willing to walk away.

I think this relationship is now in a growth mode. Not an internet speed growth mode, but a steady, cultivated, methodical, return not guaranteed, growth mode.

The end

A came to visit. I had spent an hour the day prior arguing with him on the phone.  I did not know why I bothered. It's not going to make any difference. Our journey had ended. Our relationship had passed its expiration date. I had tried to form a relationship that was a rational, non threatening one but with A it was impossible to not feel aggravated, he was not what I had expected from a friend. He had taken too much of my time and did not provide much in return.

I had therefore needed to end it.

I saw him for an hour and it was time to go, he had some other place to be, and I had to leave because I could not put any more of my energy into this broken relationship. I did not know what he wanted from me, I did know that any sort of emotional entanglement from him to me would be an unhealthy for me, and I did not want to lead him on, I had moved on from our friendship. He wanted to see me again next weekend but I did not want that any more. I wanted him to exit out of my life.

Asking him about his opinion on B. He did not support it. He wanted me not to be with B. I had ended many relationships with men because they did not want me to love B, to be with B. It was the ultimate threat. No guy friends of mine had ever seen that side of me until I spoke about B, they all thought that they'd have a chance with me, whether it's a friendship or a physical relationship, they could not bear the thought of me capable of loving someone else.  My strong, indifferent exterior towards men was all they wished to see, but when I spoke about B, when I described the level of intensity I felt in my relationship with B, they felt uncomfortable. They could tolerate my spouse, they could accept that I was married, but they could not accept that I was in love. That was always the stress point. A failed to realize that by him choosing not to see me as a woman who was in love with B, he had made a choice for me. I had to terminate my relationship with A. Compounded by the fact that A could not figure out how and what he felt about me. He was unable to provide an equal relationship to me. He was so incredibly self centered and he was unable to give what I wanted out of the relationship. I wanted him to understand me, to support me and to be there for me, as I've done for him. I suppose that when I form friendship, I'm blind to men vs. women, but men felt threatened whenever they thought that I had fallen in love with another man, even though they knew that they had no chance with me to begin with, to lose me to someone else seemed a difficult concept to manage. It never failed. I had lost so many guy friends over B, but I cannot and will not budge.

I made no commitment of seeing A again. He wanted to see me on Saturday next week. I told him that I can't make that commitment. When I end things I end them swiftly. A had no idea what and who he was dealing with. I can shut down my emotions as quickly as I opened it up for him. When I wanted to end things, I disappear. I did not respond to anything. I did not make a fuss. I simply disappeared. And perhaps years later, I'd resume a cordial relationship but in short term, I would vanish. He had no idea. I would simply stop responding.  He would never hear from me again.  

Equal

I brought a kombucha, and a non fat cappuccino to see him. In the end, we did not have much time, he had a meeting and so did I. I felt on edge, ever since he cancelled our meeting, because his son was sick, and I felt that I needed to see him, and despite my own sense of insecurity, I felt that I ought to ask and insist on seeing him, even if it's just for a few minutes. My own sense of insecurity was always unfounded, but for some strange reason, I feared that he did not want me, or wanted to see me in public, and that perpetual fear perhaps was the foundation of my relationship with him. I was afraid of losing his affection, so I tried harder, even though that fear was manufactured in my head, and his affection for me persisted.

He had not shaven. He looked rather tired. His hair had turned nearly all gray. He was happy to see me. The second I buzzed, the door opened, he said that he just got out of a meeting and I wondered how long he had been waiting for me, at the front of the door. I handed him kombucha and coffee. I asked if we should linger outside, and he asked me to come in and sit down at the front room. The room looked spacious and bright, and there was music playing in the background. The front reception room was sparsely furnished like his apartment. He sat on the right.

We carried on small talks. I knew our time was limited. He asked if we could see each other on Wednesday, it was a day that I had already set aside for him, I would not be home on Thursday and I knew that for him, Wednesday seemed to be a good day also. I liked Wednesday because it was often a day that we saw each other lately. He would have his place back. I would have mine. He woke up early to go to work, and I hated that about his place. I wished that there was a way for him to trust me enough to give me a spare key so when I left I could lock the door and drop the key off. I hated getting up early. "I'm not a morning person and  you always needed to leave early." I said. He smiled.

He asked about my new job prospect. There was a new one that I liked. It involved technology and interesting work. I would have not leave the city but he did not mind so much. It would be better than leaving the country. I had contemplated moving to Asia, just so that I could stop longing for him. I was sitting at this night club with him. I told him about my intent, and he said, "Oh I don't like that." I looked at him, astonished and I said, "I did not know that you cared." I didn't. He did care. I didn't believe that he loved me. But he said that he did, always had been. I couldn't believe him. But that could be just me. Sixteen years ago, at a hotel, he told me that he would be seeing me back at home, I was working at another city, he was traveling through that same city, we had the same destination, and he had promised to see me that weekend, he said, "I will see you tonight, if not, definitely tomorrow night." He did not show up that evening, he did not show up the next evening. I did not ask why. I had been warned by others about him. I let him go, I did not fight for him or demand his attention. He did not necessarily go anywhere, I simply stopped sleeping with him, the next time we saw each other, I had another man. He had no idea that I liked him then, and I was hurt, and I didn't give him a reason to believe that I was hurt, but that dynamic persisted to this date. I did not believe that he cared. I was always looking for a way out so that I could stop hurting. He had, against all my presumptions, come through this time, he adored and loved me, and told me so.

There was a moment I started to tell him about my new job prospect, and I could tell that he was genuinely proud of me. As I became animated about the interview, about the work itself, his smile broadened, and I could sense that if we were in private he'd hold me and he'd kiss me, but then that moment passed, I asked him how much time he had, he said, "Oh we had time, two more minutes." I hissed under my breath, "Oh fuck you."

"Let me walk you to your car." He got up to leave. I followed.

"Next Wednesday then. Are you home?" I asked.

"Yes. Wednesday is good." He answered.

At my car I told him that I thought my spouse had a girlfriend. He had been traveling to an east coast city a lot, nearly ever other week. I always knew but I did not want to share that information with him, or anyone for that matter.

"I think he is seeing someone." I said.

"Of course he is". He answered quickly, a little too quickly.

I realized at the moment, and upon reflection, why he was so eager, perhaps he thought that by me having a spouse who traveled and had his heart set on another woman, would give him a more likely chance to be with me, a more likely chance, for me to leave the spouse, for him. While he offered no promise, while he could give me very little, he wanted, ultimately, me, to be his and his only, and what better way to gain an edge, if I knew the man I was supposed to be with, had left the scene?

I wondered that for sometime, for the rest of the day. Before I left, I asked him to kiss me, he kissed me hurriedly on my cheek, and rushed back to his meeting. I hugged him, he was not so certain about being hugged but I did that anyway.

"I'll email, we will email.. something." He mumbled.

"Wednesday. Your place or mine." I replied.

A friend, a gay friend who was raising a child with his partner sent me an article titled "Why do we cheat?" He was struggling with the loss of passion and intensity in his relationship with his partner. He wanted to come to me because he knew that I've been carrying on this relationship I have outside of my marriage for a number of years now. I told him precisely why. I agreed with the author.

In life we were possibly granted happiness once. In life, we might meet a person whom we were attracted to physically and emotionally, it was not something that we could explain. Against all stereotypes and gut instinct, we had fallen in love with the person who made us feel alive. I had, never ever felt this way so persistently, so lengthy, so incredibly completely overwhelmingly intense. He was not what I'd expected, but he captured my soul.

In a yelp review I did that earned me "review of the day" award, I wrote about a restaurant in his neighborhood. He read the review and said, "I bet you are getting a lot of dating inquiries with that picture!"

I wrote back, "I'm not dating nor responding to 'inquiries'. I have no room for other people in my life. If you want affirmation, here it is: I love you and I am yours, body and soul." 

He then replied, "That makes me happy, baby."

I used to be more reluctant about expressing my feelings. I once told him that he was more in tune with his feelings than I was with mine, yet, it felt like the blind leading the blind. He thought that was an astute description. 

I started to be more expressive about my feelings, for a situation, for him, and for my rights in his life. I started to assert myself more, letting him know how strong I feel about him, and insisting on creating a sustainable presence in his life, rather than running away from him, and back on that path I once took, which was whenever I got scared, I ran towards others, but only to feel that same hollowness I've felt all my life before he existed in my life, I stayed with my feelings and fought, ever so slightly, for a greater presence in his life. I couldn't possibly be with others, even though I could still appreciate other men visually, I could not possibly love another, or become physically involved with another. When other propositioned, flirted or hinted a form a romantic relationship, rather than feeling that I had a backup, I felt disinterested, bored, and most importantly, I felt that if I did give consideration to others, I'd lose the only great love I would ever have in my life. It was perhaps the discovery of my life time, that finally someone understood me, and got me, intellectually, emotionally, and sexually. That combination, nearly never happen. Because I was not exactly a cookie cutter person. I had always thought my needs could be fulfilled but not all of them, but could not be fulfilled by one person.

The most unlikely scenario arose from being in love with someone, even for a woman like me. I had learned to love monogamously, I had begun to learn to express myself more openly, and I had, against all odds, found a man who was my intellectual, sexual and emotional equal.   

Raining Day, recreational activities on hold

The Fantasy That Puts All Relationships at Risk

"This loss of identity is detrimental to sustaining romantic love. Our initial attractions are very much based on a sense of interest in; an intensity toward; and an attraction to a separate person. This combination of emotional, intellectual, and physical engagement is necessary to keep love alive. Yet we forego this excitement in favor of a safer arrangement in which we regard our partners as extensions of ourselves, instead of appreciating them for the autonomous individuals they are.

We do this because, although most of us say we want real love, many of us actually find it hard to tolerate. Real love threatens our defenses. It can feel uncertain and unsafe to care so deeply for someone else or to be seen in a different light than we’ve been seen or have come to see ourselves over the years."
-------

B's son is sick. Recreational activities are therefore on hold. I know what's like to be a parent with a sick child. I lived in the children's hospital for three years with my own son, who was rather sick for a long time. He was always on the brink of getting worse or better, and I often packed my overnighter bag to the hospital because I knew when he was in, he would not get out so easily. Consequently I did not have a life of my own for the first three years of his life. I did not have sex for nearly a decade when my children were born, and being a sexual being was such a foreign concept to me. I had no idea others were out there having sex or enjoying going out, I had nothing. I was just on a survival mode for a long time. Now that children were older and I no longer feel that I was so much tied to them, that I could finally have a life.

It was also clear that I loved B. With time my appreciation for him grew. I loved him like he was my other half but at the same time I was not as anxious about his lack of physical existence in my life.

Perhaps I was trained to be with men who are not often in my life because I liked the distance. Regardless what I knew that I have to give this a try. I have to because I have no choice. Because I have never felt this way about anyone else.

Last night I was on the phone with N for a bit. He and I talked often, often putting each other to sleep. We were like best friends at this point. I got along great with him. He shared his dating stories with me. There was no chemistry. Like we had been married for a long time.

R contacted me again. I first met him at a party in December at a friend of mine's house. A good looking attorney. That's a bit interesting. I don't know what that is all about. I guess we will see. 

What does it take

It is possible that in life you get one opportunity to experience the gut wrenching, heart pounding love. That is - if you are lucky. No matter where we are outside of the bedroom, in a sexual dynamic, women want to be taken against her will by men who overpower them. This asymmetrical relationship runs at the core of it all. Men expect women to be enthusiastic about what they want them to do and love every moment of it. B and I, no matter what we do and where we are at in our lives, I just want to please him and he wants to explore the boundaries. It was as if I was born to please him. it was that simple. Men need to take charge. There should not be any hesitation as to what they want to do to the women. Women should give whatever they can to please men. 

If you have that in place in your relationship, then sex would be great no matter what.

For me that was exactly how I was with B. But I could not do that with others. In part I did not respect them enough and in part I didn't feel the same level of chemistry. It was clear that B wanted all of that from the beginning with me and I liked it because he was very interested in being the dominant one. I was always the submissive one with him and I liked to please him. 

At some point it became clear to me that the boundary could be pushed further as he takes on even a more aggressive role in our relationship. I enjoyed that more than anything else. I also found that his attitude towards me changed as I asserted myself in his life. It was as if he did not mind if I persistently asked to be seen, rather than feeling shy and uncertain about us, I took on a more proactively role in establishing myself in his life. I wanted him to know that not only I wanted him, but also I needed to be with him, physically, it was important to stay connected and bonded. I absolutely needed him in my life to feel like a woman. The more submissive I was to be with him, the more assertive I was at work. That I knew. 

What I don't know is that if and when that would end, what I would become. 

Sex with one partner

"What are you doing Wednesday?"

"If I tell you nothing would you believe me?"

"Then, be with me."

"Sure!!"

That was how we communicated. I never liked him that way. I never bothered to look for men. They tend to show up unannounced.

I get bored very easily. I have stopped hanging out, even just friends, with a few. Once I got to know them, figured them out, I get bored.

I always do.

Not him. He was  a friend for a long time. I never gave a shit. Slowly, over time, we got to know one another. He turned out to be like me. Likes to SCUBA, to golf, to try new things, to travel.

Zero sexual chemistry.

Is it easy to meet men if you are with a man? I ask because he and I have spent countless evenings and mornings and afternoons together. We even traveled together. But never had sex. Never will.

Both love sex. Both have seen each other's worst.

Never felt attracted to him.

Never will have sex.

But need to find someone to have sex with. Sex as an activity, not an expression of love. Just a simple activity. Is it really hard to find? Apparently so. Not for lack of availability of men. But for the fact that I cannot find myself lowering myself to have sex with anyone.

The pesky thing called a relationship. Not with your husband but with your lover.

I really hate being in love. I hate being in a relationship that I am not getting laid, and I cannot get together with another person. I also hate being in a mental space that having sex with another person is taxing and daunting, because there is an implied level of trust built in. I think that sucks. The staying loyal part. I have to figure out how to get around that. I don't think I can. I suffer, therefore.

Happy Hour

I was half standing on the barstool when I spotted him. S just left. He knew that I'd be at the bar and he had been asking me to meet him in various times, he was getting a little too stalkerish. I did show up, because I was going to meet my gay friend L there. I had known L for twenty years. We worked at a management consulting firm on 555 California, I was very young and I was often in love with varies men back then.

S wanted to know what I was up to. I have the innate ability to block people out of my mind when I'm not into them. I tell them what I'm up to and I tell them the men I was seeing to set the boundary. As in they are not part of that equation. When S decided to leave I was finally getting comfortable. I sat at the bar stool waited for E to come. E was finishing up work late and he wanted to see me. We would ordinarily get a room somewhere and fuck but ever since that relationship ended, we just hang out when we can and shoot the breeze.

E is tall and confident. Intelligent and gorgeous. I like them young in general. E and I talked about his new job. He'll be moving closer to me. He'll be only two blocks away from me. I told him about my potential move. He is indifferent. He's happy I think.

We talked about grabbing dinner one week. We used to go to the Mission when we dated. Then when we stopped dating, we continue going to trendy restaurant. We often admire women together. E knows the type of women I like.  A bit heavy, with some meat, but not obese. With giant boobs. E thinks that it's funny because I have big boobs and I like women with boobs.

I told E that I like all people I'm an omnivore. I like men and women. If it weren't for B not wanting to fuck others, I'd be right into the field. There are at least three or four men want that, but I don't. I can't. Because B says no, I can't violate his order. I'm that weird.

I cheat but I cheat by rules. E knows that I'm emotionally inaccessible. "If you were, you'd be in love with me." E'd tell me and laugh. I knew he may be hurt but he won't tell me. I have never been one to show emotions. It's so easy to shut everything off. That's why I think it's strange that I open up to B.

I think the reason I'm able to open myself to B is that B is unable to access his feelings. Therefore I can be as open and as candid about myself, because B will never understand my love for him and he will never love me back in the way I want to be loved back. I long for the real love I'd feel for B, but I am wondering if he did love me the way I want him to love me, would I then stop loving him for fear of showing my real emotions?

I know how E is. He's genuine and he knows that I'm not in love with him. "You are not in love with me." He'd say. I can't even if I tried. I have only loved men who cannot love me back. That's the real success. I can feel all of those emotions and not be afraid that one day those emotions would be felt by others.

That's why B works. B does not even realize how much he hurt me, how sad I am when I think of him. He is all about himself.

That's the reality.

With others, their emotions are accessible. With B, it's not easy and I feel a sense of security. For he will never love me like all other men before and possibly after him.

Matching Bruises

I have matching bruises. Not from Snowboarding wipe out. E asked me what they were. He was always curious. He once dated me. I broke it off because I couldn't see E and while being involved with B. E could have been perfect, but I couldn't feel the emotional ties I had with him as I did with B. B was the person I am having the longest physical and emotional relationship with. I have never been with a man for as long as I did and stayed physical and emotional involved with. Including my marriage. It surprises me every day.

B is the only person I feel close with. I wrote to him the other day that he was more in tune with his feelings than I was. Yet it felt like the blind leading the blind. When I hear him telling me that he loved me, I wish that I could tell him the same. So I say "I love you", it sounds hollow. I don't know if love is the right word to describe this relationship. It is much deeper than that but I don't know how to describe it.

Our physical relationship is escalating a little bit. He is becoming more forceful. And it starts to hurt even more. I like that because I like pain. It's hard to find someone who can give me that level of pain because most men don't want to do that to the ones they care about. I like it. I have never met someone like B who got off on it as well.

Henry Miller wrote about his days in Paris. Whores he'd been with in Paris. One whore was getting fucked by several men. After they had come they pissed in her pussy and she loved it. I read that scene in 1992 and thought to myself then I wish it was done to me. Only B managed to do that. I liked that a lot. Once I knelt down and I was giving B a blow job and I did not realize he was pissing in my mouth as the shower was on. Soon my mouth was filled with his piss and I drank some and I let go of the rest of the liquid as he continued to fill my mouth with his piss. I was touching my pussy as I was doing the sucking and as I touched my pussy I felt that I was pissing a little as well and at the same time I was turned on like I was having an orgasm. I liked how B jammed his cock deep inside of me and I was gagging. How he tied my feet and my hands so that I had no control while he shoved his cock inside of me as he straddled on top of me. I liked how he pushed his cock deep into my throat as I fought hard not to gag.

What B and I have are so intimate, so unusual that it is difficult to picture that I can form another similar relationship in my life. My sexual fantasies have never deviated far from my abusive sexual history as a child. It's therefore difficult to imagine that I can have a normal sexual life with anyone. I know that I'm a freak. While having sex with other men could satisfy the primal urges it became hollow and deeply unsatisfying after I have been having sex with B. My theory was proven right when in July I was having such a hard time meeting up with B, that I thought he no longer wanted me. In a final attempt to separate myself from B that I made a determination to stop seeing B, and when that moment happened I could no longer find any desire to be with others as well. It was if my soul had left me and that when B chose not to be in life, even though in reality it was I who chose to leave B, I no longer cared about anyone else. In those days followed I started to feel that my interest in other men diminished. I was getting turned off by men in general when B was no longer in the picture. I had realized that the reason that my relationship worked with B for so long is that I really felt that I belonged to him, not just with him but to him. And when that bond was removed from me I cannot form any meaningful relationship with others.

When I was bound,  B forcefully entered me. I was hurt and turned on at the same time. I wanted to cry because he has finally figured out how to please me. And I knew that it turned him on as well.

I ask B to push the limit more. As I cannot think another way to advance the relationship if I cannot continue with our exploration of our mutual interest.

I cannot begin to imagine to live a life without B. I had withered whenever I pushed him out of my life. I am normal to the outside world, because I can be perverse behind closed doors with B. And that, runs at the core of our relationship.

Relationship on Timer

When you thought about him, your heart literately hurt. It was filled with longing, and sadness. It did not make any sense.  When one is in love why does it feel like one's heart is broken? You couldn't understand it. It's not a natural feeling for you to feel this "in love" with anyone, and it's not something that you had the tool to deal with, or to comprehend.

When you thought of him, you wished that you were with him, and that your body and soul were connected with him in some way that it longed to return to the mothership, the rightful owner, the only person who could make her world seemed normal.

Yet your heart saddened because that instinctive longing was in contradiction with the rational conduct. It was also validated by his limited presence in your life. In that he was not that available. And your longing for him reaffirmed his lack of availability and presence in your life. It's likened to wanting to move to a place you always wanted to live, but you can't, or wanting to eat that cheese burger but you are not allowed to.

Every visit was always short, as if your relationship was on a timer. From the beginning when you two meet for the duration, you already knew when the timer would go off, it would be around 6 AM when he had to be up for work, and even when he did not need to leave, he expected you to be out of his place. He compartmentalized you. You were this object, and he used you when he needed you and put you away and let you collect dust when he was no longer interested. Occasionally his interest level grew and he would appear to be more in touch with you but mostly he remained disengaged.

When he saw you he told you he loved you and he wanted to be with you. But when it came to the "how" or "when" part he had no answer and he expected you to be okay with it.

As time went on you started to believe none of this ever existed and all of which were just something you had concocted in your head, neither he nor the relationship were in your life, and it was always you created this illusion. The one part of you longed for some intimacy, some true connection at a more instinctive level, someone who understood you at the core, so you dreamed all of that up, it sometimes felt so real that you imagined he was real, what he said was what he meant, you knew what he looked like, with or without his glasses on, with or without his hat on.

That made you sad. His apparent existence in your life, a limited, somehow ambiguous existence became a constant reminder that you might have anything you actually want from this material world, love was still ever elusive. What if you  did not deserve to be loved, or be loved, by anyone, certainly not by him.

The declaration of "I love you"s from him to you become a sore reminder that when you mixed fantasy with reality, when you started to believe what they said were what they truly meant, that things could escalate.

As he became more present, more communicative, and more caring, you became more suspicious, not suspicious of what he wanted but what all of it would lead to. You were convinced that he wanted very little from you. You were convinced he would eventually hurt you, by abandoning you. You were thinking he wanted you as his fantasy girl who occasionally played the role to please him, and nothing more. When he started to tell you that he felt something for you, that this was not just a physical relationship, it physically hurts you like you were stabbed in the chest.

A sexually abused child could turn out to be someone who expressed herself through her overt sexuality, but who was closed off emotionally. Such was your DNA make up. Until he started to mix fantasy with emotions.

Now the sirens were ringing. You were trapped like a caged animal not longing for the release, but was terrified of abandonment.  

Love

Earlier that evening

I finished gym later than expected. An older man held the elevator door open for me. He said, "You seem to be rushing to somewhere." I said, "Yes, for dinner. I'm late. Again."  He smiled. "That's perfectly fine. You make an entrance. Walk in slowly. Let men admire you as you enter the restaurant, as they ought to."

I tried that. Except that B was already sitting at the table, playing with his smart phone (probably checking on his Facebook update, which thankfully I'm not a "friend"). He did not look up, he did not even know I was there until I planted myself opposite of him, like a deflated balloon.

Great! So much for my French plunging neckline dress, shining six-inch silver stiletto, and my super cool new glasses.

B texted me earlier and told me that the location used to be a tapa's bar. "Used to". Mission was not what it used to be. But I had wished to conquer all Izakyas in the Bay Area before heading to Japan next winter for snowboarding and food expedition. Came for the custard uni. I had a similar dish in Japan AND Benu, quite delicious. It was not as good as Benu or Japan, but in either case, you did not have to folk over $500 or $3000 (business class flight on sale) respectively. I'm all about good enough. As I told A before he moved, I don't have great expectations in life. I was with the school of thoughts of "good enough is good enough".  Glass was always half full for me.

Sake sommelier (they had a sake sommelier!!!) gave me some recommendations on the sake. I liked them cloudy and sweet. The one he recommended, was quite light and airy. B had the other half glass. I had to drive later and half a glass was all I could handle.

Squid marinated in liver was strangely salty and fishy, but B liked weird food like I did apparently, and so we scooped the slimy things out of a  tiny bowl and ate last bit of the dark brown liquid.

I was shocked, a little impressed really, but more just shocked. I very rarely ate out with B. My earliest memory (well, make that documentation) of us eating out was when we were young, he took me on a date (I couldn't remember that but my journal did), and we had sushi. He liked green tea ice cream. And I thought he was cute enough to warrant a possible second date. But that was a decade + one month shy of six years (again, I had no clue, but the journal had a computer stamped date).

We went on to have some very custardy like house made tofu. I did not quite understand why the chef wanted us to have it without salt first, and then salt. Perhaps it was because you needed to first be impressed by its texture and then taste. For taste, B sprinkled sea salt all over my perfectly blend tofu without asking me. A bit presumptuous, like he often was. But it was tasty on the last bite. Adventuring onwards, we tackled a tempera dish with shrimp and veggies, which was a bit chaotic to eat but quite delicious and light. It had a nice abstract form that could be made into a painting.

For dessert, B chose house made vanilla ice cream. His Midwest roots was showing. Who gets vanilla ice cream in a Japanese joint? So...vanilla!  But to my surprise, it was great: not too sweet, and not too creamy like gelato.

Check came in a little cup. B folded his twenties into the cup neatly, as the waitress gingerly picked up the bill and the cup away.

B thanked me for suggesting this restaurant. I thanked him for paying the bill, once again. 

Where I failed at being this seductive (middle age) woman sashaying into a restaurant holding my head high, while Casino Royale James Bond alike men with shaken, but not stirred vodka martini admired every inch of my made-up body, I had succeeded in, yet again, finding a hipster restaurant in the Mission that served unexpected delectable.

Later in the evening

I laid there. I was tired. I couldn't sleep. He told me that he loved me. He loved me very much. So much. He wanted me to love him, so that we could be together. I wondered how often he said that to those other women he dated in the past. I couldn't tell if this was how he was. He told me that he felt that he should have done it differently. He was at wrong. Instead of thinking all those other women were wrong for him, perhaps he never let himself be out there to really feel, to really give it a go. He was the one who should have made the amends and showed some initiative. He said, that he was not happy with who he was. But he did not think he could have changed a thing. He was who he was. I laid there, and heard him declaring love, Over and lover again. I started to cry. Silently. my tears trailed down my cheek and dropped onto his upper shoulder but he did not say anything so I did not explain that I was crying. Last time when we were together, he fucked me so hard that my vagina had a small tear. This time, the same happened. I liked pain so it was a nice unexpected bonus.

I was angry also that B told me over and over again how much he loved me. I was always emotionally unavailable, to anyone, really, so to hear people's declaration of love made me uncomfortable. But I had always loved B, just I had not expected how intensely he expressed himself.

In shower as I went down on him he pissed into my mouth. He pissed into my pussy. He tied me up and fucked me hard earlier, and then told me that he did that often. I suspected that because when he first tied me up I thought it was a perfect knot. He was good at it. He was always the dominant one. I had always played a sub in our relationship.

He jammed his cock deep into my throat as my hands and feet were tied, I couldn't move. I was suffocating and choking. He won't stop. I liked it even though I was in pain. He used a paddle to hit me with. It was light but I felt the pain.

He wouldn't even let me go and piss. I tried but he wanted me to piss while sucking on him. He wanted me to piss on him and I froze. I was not able to do what he did, But as I masturbated as he filled my mouth with his piss, I felt some liquid coming out.

On the floor I was on fours looking for an escaping earring. He started to shove his cock inside of me as I was bent over.  Then he pushed me against the wall in the hallway as he continued to fuckme. He told me that in his earlier years he liked to fuck a lot and he liked bondage. I imagined that he had a lot of women. He said that there were women he could access today to have sex with. But he was only having sex with me. I wondered if any of what he said was true. But even if I did find him lying, I was not sure if I would care. As long as he wanted me and loved me. I was okay. I was not a typical woman. I was wired differently. 

He addressed me by my name and asked me if I was his whore. I said yes. 

I woke up feeling uncertain. I was not sure what I could do to give him all that he ever wanted. I was not sure if he could sustain his love for me. There was this level of intensity that I could not feel with others. I could talk to him about anything and everything. His past, present and future. I understood him like I understood myself. I wanted nothing from him but his love for me. I wanted to give everything I could to him. I wanted to be his and his alone. I wanted to exist to please him. Yet I knew he would give me the freedom to be myself. That included the other side of self that was the exact opposite of this version of me: confident, independent, authoritative, driven, powerful in my own domain and incredibly assertive. I had rarely felt this way with anyone else. I fed off on men's affection for me. The only time that I had ever felt this way was with a man who I nearly married. We had a long distance relationship. He was always in the east coast. I was in the west coast. He loved me so much so that I thought that I could never ever felt that level of intensity again. Then he got violent with me one night in a snowy winter night in D.C., and nearly killed me. I knew when that relationship finally ended, I would never be the same again. I would never love again, and be loved again the same way. I was barely twenty two and I was unaware of who I was and what I was. In my dynamic with others, I avoided that level of intensity. I thought it would destroy me like it nearly did when that event occurred. He was so quiet and unassuming on surface but behind closed doors he ignited me and adored and loved me. Like the previously relationship I once had when I was barely 22, B was also pleasant and subdued. In private he was like fire and I burned with him. He was kinky and he understood what turned me on. He was unabashedly expressive with his feelings in private. 

When I saw him in public, he stood up to greet me by kissing me. When we were parting, he kissed me again on the street. I had never been with a person who was so expressive in his feelings for me in public. In part I couldn't allow myself to be emotional. I had been emotionally inaccessible for so long that it seemed quite strange to be loved by someone. It hurt my heart to feel loved. I was feeling both excited and terrified. I was also surprised that he would kiss me in public. It was nearly a way for him to want to declare to the world that my relationship with him was no longer in the dark. I felt scared because it felt natural to be in his embrace, when in all of my other relationships I was able to spread my legs and be affectionate, be promiscuous, but be so emotionally detached. He got under my skin. And I was feeling frightened.

In the evening I laid next to him being wide-awake. I felt oddly frightened. When he induced pain onto me, I was feeling exhilarated. How could I tell him that I wanted more? I loved every aspect of our sexual conduct, and I felt that I understood what he wanted as well and I knew that I could satisfy him. Rather than seeing the intensity diminish as most of the relationship did, I sensed that our attachment grew stronger for each other over time. And we had only scratched the surface.

What if he was it? This was going to be the only person in this world that not only tolerated my sexual perversity but celebrated it with me. What if as he gets  older I grow more attracted to him? What if because of these perverse sexual experiment we have established with each other, that we could then live a normal, pretend, middle of the road life in peace and never had to wonder again if someone was out there for us?   

What if he was not only the person who understood my past but also knew how to ignite me in a way no else could?

What if he was telling me the truth? What if he did indeed love me and wanted me to love him back, what if he was the only person whom I could completely be myself with? What then? 

Three friends

I have three platonic guy friends.

A: A and I communicate at least once a day, sometimes more and sometimes less. He moved away but still texts and message and call. He called tonight. To tell me about his new life and his new adventures. I told him about mine. Nothing too personal, just the basics. He's looking forwards to seeing me in a couple of weeks when I go down to visit him and other friends. He wants what's best for me. He also wants to make sure that I'm doing okay emotionally. A is excited to see me and drive me around in his new car.

N: N and I talk on messenger nearly daily. Ever since a couple of years ago we've been friends he's been dependent on me being his one and only female friend whom he's never been involved with. I like talking to him and seeing him but it is a bit up and down too much of a real thing kind of friendship. But I like him. I think he's perfect. I don't know why he's not married with kids.

M: M called. He's back from Austin. I've known him for 20 years. He is very eccentric. I say that because he's very wealthy. He told me that he's dating three or four girls after he and his girlfriend broke up six months ago. She dumped him and therefore he's heart broken. I think he's a weirdo, and the only reason women date him is that he's very good looking, smart and incredibly wealthy and he's 42 and ready to get married. I doubt that he will get married because he's too much of a weirdo. He was interested in my trip to Harbin. We both have a thing for being nude in public. I told him that I went with N and it's all very fun but very very platonic. It's hard to understand why so many people are so hung up with nudity. I love being nude and seeing others nude. It just feels so liberating.

I don't know why I have so many platonic guy friends. I suppose the reason is that I'm laid back and non demanding. I treat men differently depending on my involvement with them. I don't judge. I connect with male friends the same way I connect with my girlfriends. I treat them the same and in turn they like me. The only time I get weird out about it is when there is a physical component, and emotional component. If I'm just interested in someone physically it's easy, it's the emotional part that requires some work.

I think I'm better at it now. I want to stop feeling and start taking things lightly. If I'm running crisis, I'd go to A and N for emotional support. I can also count on M but I cannot rely on the person who I'm emotionally and physically involve with. I's the only way to separate the two selves. One genuine, real and brave, the other fantasy based and non sustainable.

I suppose this is what happens when one's heart is completely broken and then repaired. You look at things from a different perspective, and nothing is what it used to be.

And you move on. It's not because that person cheated on you (I can careless about monogamy), it's when you no longer believes that the person deeply cares and loves you. So you move on. And these friends are the only ones you can count on.

Men

Over exhaustion. Too much running. Too much beating my body up. No rest whatsoever. Upcoming work stuff. No easy way out.

A's departure was a good one. He was taxing on me.

C told me about his lady problems. I did not care about C so much these days. He's an non entity.

The only regular interaction I have is with N. He's a friend. We got along great. We sort of formed a bond that seemed more natural than any other bond I've formed. But not a sexual relationship. We liked each other. We bantered well. He was like A without the baggage.

I began to hang out with him a lot. It felt natural to be doing things together. I always needed people to do things with. I enjoyed friendship with men as much I did with women.

The more I spent time with N the more conflicted I felt about B. I felt that by comparison, B did not care enough about me to spend anytime with me in a substantial way. If he loved me he would have wanted to see me more. If he really cared about me, he would know that I desired an emotional connection as much as I did with a physical connection.

But I also did not care to see N more than I did now. I felt that I needed new people. New blood to feel alive. But I was also conflicted with my other priorities in my life that was keeping me busy and distracted.

It was nice to be rid of everyone but to keep B from a sexual perspective, but I could not depend on B. I did not think he wanted me anymore from time to time. I also did not think he loved me. The less time I spent with B, the less I felt that I mattered to him.

When I read Tiger Tiger I felt that I understood myself more, a survivor of a child sexual abuse, I knew why I was the way I was, but instead of telling B about it, I told N. I was profoundly disturbed by it, and I wished that someone close to me could hear me out, hold me so that I could cry, or just listened to my stories. N did not understand, but he said, "As a friend, I don't have a choice. I have to be there for you." N was the only guy friend I had now who understood me. I had to leave N for sometime to feel this out. I realized now that he was one of my closest friends for a reason. He was always there for me when I needed someone to talk to.

As for C, C would be there too. I felt that enough time had passed I could reconnect with C again.

I occasionally thought of E. E was someone I had been friends with and who I was physically involved with. But I couldn't deal with him for some time, because I got bored and I got tired.

Everyone tend to bore me, irritate me or annoy me.

Everyone did and would in the future.

After distancing myself from A, C and E, I noticed the only person who I liked to do things with was N, but he and I had never had any sexual chemistry, and it was because of it, that we got along great. But I knew I'd be bored or tired of N. I tend to get bored of people. It was just how I was a person.

So could I expect the same from B? Perhaps not, perhaps we failed as friends because he could not see me pass being a sexual object. In his fantasy, I existed only as his lover, and not his friend.  And while one side of me felt satisfied, the other side of me hated him for not ever treating me as a friend.

Pretend

Arrived. Friday evening. Not at all worried. Place was clean, and warm. Like it should be.

Met up with a friend. A platonic friend who you've known for a long time. Had not anticipated the rain. Was ill prepared. Did have a new book to read on kindle app on the phone.

No internet. No cell phone coverage.

Stripped down to nakedness and jump into the hot pool. Friend was someone you went to Russian bathhouse with before. Had seen you naked, not attracted to you and vise versa.

Friend also knew everything about you. Someone you often saw on a regular basis. Someone you used to go and cry when B royally pissed you off. B only wanted what he wanted. It was all about him, his pleasure, and his interest. You knew at the core you played an insignificant role but you liked it nonetheless. The two of you would never survive a weekend. He would probably get mad of you for something. He would probably expect you do exactly what you were  told. He would probably get upset if a guy looked at you in a flirtatious way. He would be mad. You sensed that about him. He wished that you were a doll, something he could take out and put back. That was B. But Friend was different. He knew a lot about you. Because when you formed a platonic relationship you could be yourself.

Slept naked, then went and got dressed to eat a meal, read a book or played a board game with your friend. He picked a game at the library, it was not that much fun, but he played it with you because you wanted to. Then went back to the couch to read. You read a chapter, he did too. So retreated back to the room. You had  him sit on a chair while you were on a swing, first chatting about health care, or, lack of in this country, Japan (he liked Japan, a lot), France, and in general, exotic travel, then more personal matters, you came to find out that he had arrived in California eight years ago, after completing PhD in the best physics program in the country, an Ivy League school, and then proceeded by doing a post doctorate with his professor's recommendation at another renowned school in the Bay Area. You mocked him, "Really, I did not know. You mean you are kind of smart?" He laughed. shyly, and said, "You never asked. I asked about you. I know about you, but you never asked of me." You remembered meeting him for the first time. A Northface jacket, a messenger bag. Looked lost. You mocked him so then.

Said with sincerity this time, "what else do I not know about you?" Proceeded to find out that he was born into a doctor and architect family in New England, and his brother a doctor as well. Father and Mother in New England, divorced when he was fourteen, brother and brother's wife in Indiana. "Yikes. Indiana. Corn fed." You were disturbed by the Midwest connection. B was from there. He knew that about you as well. You knew that he did not care for his sister in law. Someone who was born and raised in Indiana, overweight and tedious, often complained. He did not like many people, especially women. He liked them smart, and beautiful. He often criticized them. Except you. He had an unique view of you. He talked to you about those women whom he bed, how they tend to be dumb or unusually demanding. Or smart but not attractive. And when you winced, he would say to you "stop doing that to your face. You don't look attractive when you do that." When you cried over B, he would try to hug you in an awkward way.  He thought you could do better, but when asked, he offered no one to you. So you told him B would do. B was the only person who ever said "I love you." He said, "Saying 'I love you' is easy. That's what he knows to retain you. But does he really love you?" You then said, "I suppose not. He and I have never gone on a day date. He had never taken me out for breakfast. We've never traveled together. I've never met his friends." He then scoffed and then walked away, and you heard him say "we need more wine." He fetched the bottle you had brought to this trip, and poured some into your glass, and then his.

"So, you are kind of smart from a smart family." You snarled at him in that usual way and he looked at you, helplessly. "Fat Bitch." He said, jokingly, but more resigned. You looked hurt. So he said, "Bitch." He sort of adored you in a brotherly way. No matter what you said. You remembered once he got depressed and said, "I don't know why you are still here. What did I do to deserve you?" You looked at him and said, "I don't know. You will be fine."

Came to find out not only he was smart, but also aware. And deep down a person who essentially shared the same political views and of the same social economical status. On top of it all, he was articulate and easy going but firm on ideology. And you had very similar ideology. Thank goodness.

Never saw him like an equal though. Always got annoyed by his pathetic dating stories. Because he had severe insecurities. Not sure why. He good looking, tall, well educated and incredibly smart.

Smart like yourself but different kind of smart.

Post doctorate smart in some ways. You liked intellectual men who were in the science field. Nano science. What the fuck was that? Some space alien shit? You wondered sometime. Someone who had enough smarts to keep up with you. But you did not know that he was so easy going. Like you.

Easy going. Collaborative. Caring. Independent. And incredibly fun to do things with. Like SCUBA diving. He dove. He skied. He travelled. But he was insecure. No matter what his education was. He was insecure because he liked good looking women who were smart. And good looking women who were smart, were all taken. Thus his depression.

He came to discover more things you did not tell him before. Surprised by your complex and difficult past, he then asked. "Why is that you married someone who's never around and get yourself involved with another man who's never around? How do you feel?"

Stared at the sky as the rain was coming down. "I often look at myself as if I were not me and I am examining a stranger from far away. And I feel sad for her. She's lonely and terribly afraid of intimacy. Desperately looking for love in the wrong places. I just feel so sad that I want to cry, for her. Yet, she does not feel the sadness. She just keeps on going. She's always laughing and is happy as she can be."

He did not say anything after that.

Read books between lunch and dinner. Felt tired. So put your head on his stomach and your legs kicked up on the firm bed pillow and drifted into sleep. He did not move. He did not touch you (you'd punch him if he ever did such thing), you fell asleep. He would not dare to touch you unless you were falling into the woods and needed someone to grab hold of you.

Woke up at 6:10 PM. He looked at your cell phone to check the time. Time to get up. Jeez you had never felt this content with another being. You hated yourself for thinking that way.

At 11 PM, in the dome hot springs pool, later in the evening, you drifted into sleep in the pool as he played in the water, rehearsing for a scene. He was an improv actor on the side. He acted when he was not doing some space alien science stuff. Dreamed of the pool drained of water. Woke up in time to grab his hands to head into the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of water to drink. Drove back to the cottage soundlessly. Room  # 11, it was 74 degrees. Just the way you liked it.

He did not argue about the warmth of the room, it was fine the way you set. Most men complained. Too warm. Too cold. But he let you. He was surprisingly easy to get along with. The best man you'd hope for to travel with. In fact so perfect you began to fantasize a life with him. He had an answer for most of the things you did not know. He explained things. He was even keeled. He was emotionless like a typical WASP. You two would never have sex.

Asked, "Do you want to get a massage?" He said, "Okay but I've never had a massage before."

Massage lady liked him. He was good looking and pleasant. Smart and unassuming. She said that he had perfectly shaped ears. She wanted to know why it took him so long to come here. She also wanted to know who he came with. He said, "just a platonic friend". You had a thin white hair man as yours, thin white hair man like John Slattery. He was firm and seductive, as they all were. At a nudist colony, even massage became a heightened sensual activity.

You suspected everyone was having sex but he and you. It was known for swinger conventions, polyamorous community lived around here. It was a nudist colony with lots of hidden messages passed among the regulars. You were here to soak and unplug. It was a much simpler intent. He was as good as a cat. Just someone to pass time with, occasionally you might need to feed him. And he paid his share. Even better than a cat.

Kept on talking. Or not talking. Kept on finding out things you two had in common. Kept on finding not obstacles to sustain the friendship but wondered what if you two found each other appealing in a sexual way?  Would it be a match made in heaven or hell? Except that you would not. It would be gross and terrible.

Once he was feeling slightly aroused. So you said, "I'm warning you. I am not having sex with you." He said, "If we did, there is no turning back." You wondered what it meant. How to turn something back. Why should it be turned back.  Would the road lead you to a totally different path if you two had sex? More importantly, how weird it would be to have sex with your brother, had you had one. You could not find him attractive even if you tried.

He described your anatomy to you. "They looked like those root beer pops." He said. He was not into your large boobs with firm nipples, or anyone's large boobs. He wanted a white woman with flat stomach and long legs. You offered none of that. You wanted a man who desired you and used you. He was cleaning your make up using his bare hands in the pool, your makeup was smeared after getting out of the wet sauna. He was wiping your running mascara off your nose when you all of sudden felt like letting it be smeared all over. Who cared what you looked? The nudist colony was filled with good looking and not good looking people. But nearly no one wore make up. He did that in a way out of politeness or pity. As if he was horrified by your smeared look. He did not want you to cut your hair also. He did not want you to make silly faces. He did not want you to wear that candy striped dress. You remembered once going out and he said, "Why did you dress like a candy stripe? Do you have anything else to wear?"

Woke up in the morning. He brought your clothes to you in the morning so you could get properly dressed. He looked at your naked body in a complete uninterested way; it made you less motivated to put your face on. But he thought you looked good in make up so you painted your face. Asked if you looked awful without it. He said, "you looked different."

He'd be a great husband to someone. Straight out of Jane Austin novel. Polite. Tall. Handsome. Who read science books and discussed world matters in such a formal way, as if he knew everything. You bred his children and served him tea and biscuit in the afternoon in the sun room. In the evenings you retreated to your own bed chamber as he drank whisky and smoked a pipe. You counted the days since you two had sex. It would be two weeks. He was due to visit you in a couple of nights. You were ambivalent about the prospect of getting undressed in front of him.

You were tired and you wanted to sleep in the evening. You asked if it would be okay if you used vibrator. He said at first, no, then he said, "okay, no moaning". You said, "fine, I would be super quiet". You came, silently, with your vibrator. He already turned off his light and put his book down. You thought he already fell asleep.You turned off the lamb next to you. Pushing a large pillow between the two of you. Like a fort you separated your nakedness from his.

You thought, this was how a terrible marriage would be like. He who could not access his feelings. You who could not acknowledge your feelings.

He called you his Chinese wife. You rolled your eyes. How cliche to pretend!

"Yellow fever was very 1990s. Now it's just status quo. You missed that trend by about 15 years." You broke his fantasy.

You laid on your stomach, hands on your cheeks, and asked him questions as he sat on the chair and answered them. Properly. You wondered if he was always like this or he was like this with you. He was a perfect conversationalist. Judaism, that was what you two discussed. He was an atheist, like you. Libertarian, like you. More social program would be good for the society. Higher taxes would benefit the greater good. But small government. Always small government. Gun control. For it. Your transformation from a hard core Republican in early nineties to a Libertarian in early two thousands. The contemporary history of the communist China: Great Leap Forward, the severed relationship with the Soviet. The Korean War, the Famine, the Cultural Revolution. You covered it in extensive detail. You had once written a book, published. Still getting residuals. He did not know that and was slightly taken off the guard.  "Is there anything you don't do?" He asked.

You wanted breakfast. He woke you up. Still mellow and even keeled. He had been sitting on a Mission style chair. You stretched. "What are you doing?" You asked in your sleepy voice. "I'm reading." He was always reading. Went to the cafeteria and it was serving a huge thing of vegetarian omelet. You felt happy. He was too. You brought organic jam to him. He tried some and liked it. You let him eat the rest. You two spent the most time together over the years. Every holiday. Every other Friday evening. Once you parked right by B's place to see a show down the street with him. He held your hand as you walked down the hill with your six inch heels. Wanted to cry for no apparent reason. He was somewhere else that night. He was thinking about another failed attempt to romance. How strange two perfectly content people would be so discontent.

Asked if this was a good trip. He said, "Thank you for meeting me here.  I've always wanted to come here but did not like do things on my own. You were so sweet to invite me. You were sweet to buy me a coffee and breakfast too."

Sweet. Just great. Sweet was how you were to him. Sweet would not be the word you'd use to describe yourself. But sweet nonetheless to others. You were annoyed by him all of sudden.

But instead you said, "Thank god you are not pain in the butt. I was dreading that you'd annoy me. Turned out you were perfect to travel with."

He smiled.

Ride home. He offered to drive. "Is it because I'm Chinese and a bad driver?" You asked. He said it was because he's evaluating of buying a new car. Smaller. "Why not get a TDI VW"? You suggested. He owned an Audi. You used to own one. It was nice to be driven. He was a decent driver. Too tall for your car though. He was 6'2". Every other boyfriend you had in your twenties were 6'2" with brown to dark hair. The other type of boyfriends were blond hair and blue eyes, less than 5'11". Half of the boyfriends called you sweet and kind, generous and forgiving. The others called you a ruthless bitch with psychotic episodes accompanied by menacing laughs.

Ordered lunch. He would not let you order a burger. "It's not feminine. Get the Croque Madame". He often ate your food off your plate. You imagined him eating the bloody burger. You liked burgers rare, with blood dripping down, from Peter Lugers.  Croque Madame was good, as it turned out. It had a nice egg on top, farm raised. "I like soft boiled eggs. They are common in Germany and Austria. But in Scandinavia, you find hard boiled eggs instead, but they serve pickled roe on top, and it's equally delicious." You talked about Europe as if it was your real home. You had homes in varying parts of the world. But only Western European countries made you whole.

Supposed the two of you were married. You'd be just as he wanted: intelligent, pretty, sweet, already financially secure and bring home the bacon.  He'd be perfect to bring home to. He was tall, intelligent, more than educated, smart, good looking, and really good to you. He would never desire you. You'd never desire him. You'd have tons of things to say to each other. When he left for work, you'd be finally alone and you'd cry. Because you wanted to know what love was and who would love you.