I Admitted to Masturbating 

Though it may not sound like it for any of you who have ready much of my blog, today was big day for me. 

I decided to work from home today and around 3:00 the urge for release hit me. So I went to my bedroom, got my trusty rabbit, and proceeded to have a lovely orgasm shortly there after. But that’s not what made it a big day. 

It’s what I did afterwards that I’m still shocked by. You see, I called Nathan. And told him. I think I need to write a bit more about why this is such a big deal. 

Cravings Cease

I do not crave men as I have in the past. They are in my life, on the peripheral. Fulfilling various, occasional needs. I do not mean that flippantly. Being loved and touched is still an intense need. And Nathan’s been doing an amazing job at both. But the drive to devour is all but gone. I think it is because I’m finding fulfillment elsewhere now.

The new job I took a while back is exciting, challenging and so very fun. It doesn’t feel like work. I’m pouring hour after hour into it, sleeping little.

Something just occurred to me. At my old job, though I enjoyed it, I was constantly constrained. Frequently reminded that I was in a cage. Controlled.

That is all gone now. Completely. I’m free.

Were my man-eating tendencies brought on by an attempt to have some form of power and control in my life? Was it a coping mechanism because of feeling so powerless in my day-to-day life at work? I don’t think my old job is completely to blame, but there’s something there. Maybe it caused my id to be exaggerated. Things to ponder.

My last posts before this one brought me to the brink of a close call emotionally. I was teetering on the edge of making a friendship with a man named Kevin something more than it should be. But not now. It was so easy for me to let it go. I didn’t bait him for more. I didn’t play the game.

I still think of Ian every day. Every. Single. Day. His death has changed me. If I thought I was an old soul before, I’m practically ancient now.

Maybe my dusty heart will be tempted to write again soon. Something with flow rather that the staccato thoughts that are coming at the moment. I don’t know.


An Unexpected Turn

“What time tonight?” I texted Kevin.

He had sent me a good morning text and we both had full work days ahead so it was close to 4:00 when I realized we hadn’t set a time. A few minutes later he responded, “I’m pretty beat.”

“It’s been a day for sure. We can just relax and be tired together.” I texted.

“Can you do tomorrow?”

My eyebrows raised. Pretty beat? Tomorrow? Excuse me? Was he actually brushing me off? Many things ran through my mind but I chained them with a deep breath.

“Tomorrow won’t work at all for me. I have late meetings.”

“The we have a problem,” he responded.

I took another deep breath. And put my phone away. My pride had just been dealt a solid blow. Thank goodness my heart isn’t involved, I thought. Continue reading

Long Drives in the Night

“Damn,” he whispered, “I could make love to you.”


I stood up and walked towards his bedroom.

“Where are you going?”

“To bed with you.”

He jumped up from the sofa and blocked my path with a kiss. Grasping my shoulders firmly he steered me away from the door.

“I’m confused,” I said. “Do you want me or not?” Continue reading

Talking in Circles

I parked on the street where Kevin had instructed and texted him that I had arrived. “I’m coming down,” he quickly wrote back.

I got out of my car and my phone rang. It was him.

“Turn around,” he said. I did. And I saw him walking to meet me.

He greeted me with a tight hug.

“You’re really here,” he said, smiling and taking my hand. “Come on up.”

I followed him up three flights of open air stairs, the city night swirling around us. Once at his door, he opened it and motioned for me to go in. Inside it was clean, modern and quiet. But it also felt a little bare. Like someone who kept their belongings to a minimum because it makes packing easier.

He gave me the 20 second tour, watching my reaction. It was underwhelming but the condo wasn’t why I was there. As he stood against the corner that separated the living room from the kitchen I walked up and placed my arms around his shoulders. His mouth found mine. Continue reading

It Started with a Wine Tasting

It all started with a wine tasting.

“Come with us!” my friend texted me. She and her man had been invited to a private wine tasting and somehow wrangled room for me. Never one to turn down the grape I texted back “YES!!!!!!!” with many exclamation points.

The pours were generous. The laughter and merriment more so. Watching my friend interact with her man fills me with joy. They are so openly sexual that it both turns me on and makes it very clear to me that that part of a relationship is missing with Nathan. He simply isn’t wired that way.

I began to crave adventure. A rush. Something.

After the tasting I was driving home (yes, I was ok to drive) and the craving intensified. Nathan wasn’t home. Thanks to social media I knew he was in a far flung city on a roof top bar living the high life. Literally.

I pushed the Siri button and said, “Call Kevin Brown.”

Kevin and I met several years ago working on a project. We have flirted for years, joked about taking trips together, and admitted a mutual attraction. Yet, it had never been acted on. Not even a kiss. He teased me about being all talk and no action. “You say you’ll come see my new place,” he had texted a few months ago, “but you never will.”

He answered the phone with a smile in his voice, “Hey stranger. What are you up to?”

“Can I come over?” I asked. No preamble. No small talk. Just blunt. Direct. Urgent.



“Sure. Give me ten minutes.”

“Ok. Text me the address.”

My phone chimed a few seconds later. And I pointed my car toward his condo.

Tired and Lonely 

May I be melancholy here? I know it’s my space. But I have only been scratching the surface lately. Today something shifted. After working hard physically and emotionally the past several days (18 hour stints. Fitbit readings in the 20k step range) I drove home tonight and just started crying. 

The tears just wouldn’t stop. They were tears of exhaustion. Tears of change. 

I took a detour and stopped by my grandmother’s place. Walking through her door, I saw her sitting in her recliner. Once at her side I bent over for my hug. Her arms lifted and circled my neck. It felt like coming home. 

“How are you, honey?” she asked. 

I plopped down on her sofa and said through the tears that had started again, “I’m so tired. Nothing is wrong. The past few days have been amazing. But with all the change lately… I just can’t seem to stop crying. I feel silly.” 

“Don’t feel silly. Sometimes you just need a good cry.” 

I nodded. Sniffing and laughing through the downpour. 

In the last month or so there have been a lot of changes in my life. Many of them good. But I feel like my axis is shifting. I’m off balance with no anchor. 

I’m flying. But erratically so. And now I’m out of fuel. Crashing. I see ocean coming faster. And faster. It’s rising up to meet me. 

Paris Is Calling

The magical city of light is calling me. At least that’s how I would like to think about it. In reality it matters not to Paris if I ever set foot on her streets. But it matters to me. So tonight I sip French wine, study metro lines, and repeat basic French phrases over and over… enjoying the sound of the foreign words spilling out of my mouth with some accuracy.

I’ve always been good at repeating accents fairly well. It’s the remembering of the meaning of what I’m saying that is the problem. I get focused on the sound. The lyrical quality of the vowels and consonants. And I’m lost to all else.

But I shall have to focus.

Because Paris is calling. And I will traipsing down her streets within the next month.

Oui! I am answering the call!



A Letter to One Far Away

Dear you,

Is there anything quite as old fashioned as a pen and paper letter? As I thought about writing you I considered purchasing some fine stationary that would be more fitting of this traditional method of communication. But as you can see, I didn’t. A humble lined legal pas will have to suffice for now.

So what does one talk about in a pen and paper letter. I confess, I’m so accustomed to the instant feedback of a modern age that it feels odd. There’s a level of trust to this. I have to trust that you’ll understand my meaning because it will be weeks before you could ask and I then respond. I suppose it’s more like pouring out a stream of thought with the knowledge of a willing audience waiting at the other end.  Continue reading

Italy made me cry

Marian Green:

Maybe it’s because I have my own trip abroad coming up, but this piece touched me deeply.

Originally posted on rougedmount:

The first time I glimpsed Italy was through the porthole window as I sat on an airplane, as we started the final descent on the approach into Rome. Tears immediately welled in my eyes and my throat burned with the emotions I felt, and was surprised by, as I did not expect to have them. Someone passed me some tissues. I’m not sure if it was my seat companion or an attendant, as I never turned my head when they tapped my shoulder and reached in front of me, so I could take them.

I saw majestic mountains that had been landscaped into order with the tiers a thousands of years of cultivation brings. Massive forests in shades of olive hues, all planted in orderly fashion with property delineations evident from my aerial view. Sienna buildings situated in the middle of massive emerald lawns, tiny outbuildings and stoned garden walls…

View original 732 more words

I’m Worried About a Reader

It is no secret that WordPress is all about community. That is one of the reasons we love it so much. But because of the nature of this digital world and the anonymous style many of us have, when one goes silent it’s difficult to know why. 

Did the person just get busy, need some space, or… something worse. 

So my friends, I’m worried about someone. And I’m sure I’ll be embarrassing the snot out of him for posting this, but I’m risking that because he is such a kind soul. He is a familiar commenter on many of our blogs even though he, himself chooses to not blog. So Nick, if you’re reading this, let a girl know you’re alive, ok? 

And if anyone else out there has news, I would be thankful if you’d let me know. 

Love and hugs to you all,


Pictures Men Have Painted for Me

I walk alone in the night, sweat from the heat and exercise beading up on my back, arms, neck, and under my breasts. I look up at the inky sky and see a streak of light slice the star-sprinkled darkness. And I’m reminded of a story a man told. One where high in the mountains the stars fell around him, the air so thin he swore he could hear the crackling as they burnt up in the atmosphere.

And then I’m reminded of other stories. Pictures men have painted for me with their words. A horseback ride through the desert. A herd of giant kangaroos surrounded in a misty morning fog. A lake of snowy ice surrounded by a silent forest. A bohemian shelter in a Grecian cave.

These pictures. I cherish them. For always.