Where we stand

[UPDATE: Technically, this is "Where we Stood" since he's got a new boyfriend as of November 2005 (I found out end of January 2006), and dumped my sorry ass after 10 years. So now, I feel like a loser having written it. He even finally read it, and didn't even realize it was about him. What a jerk.]

He believed in me. I think he still believes in me. Whatever I think my life goals should be, he understands. He knows many of my quirks, loads of my problems and issues. Does he really still like me, or love me? Yes, I think so.

We had fucking great sex. He fucked me so well, so explosively well. My eyes rolled back. It wasn't just the big cock thing. He had all the moves. Fast then slow, jack-hammer-hard then gentle-caressing-soft, he's-in-total-command-my-wrists-pinned-down then shifting me on top so I can just ride his cock for a while – whatever. Deep, he likes going in deep, as deep in as he can get it. Mmmph.

And he can go on and on and on. I mean, sometimes it was a bit over the top. But still, I never expected so much. Out in the world, I was not an exclusive bottom, by any means, but for him, I loved it. It made me happy seeing him fuck me. Sucking, on the other hand, was totally two-way. We sucked like baby piglets on mama sow's teat.

He said one night I passed out asleep and he considered fucking me anyway, but he didn’t think it would be right – I said, I wish you had. That’s how much I love the sex we had and how much I trust him. In truth, he could have taken me further, down much more intense sexual roads then we traveled, but it wasn’t necessary. And I just didn’t know how to bring up the subject. “Hey, tonight, slap me around while you’re fucking me, ok? Punch me and maybe drag me round the room while you’re pounding my ass. I’m asking now, cause when you do it, I’m gonna act like I don’t want you to do it, but yeah, keep doing it.” I just could never get the words out.

Anyway, what's the deal - without any details?

I liked him when I met him. But I pushed away - been burned before, it's too soon, etc…

Back and forth for a few months, seeing him, not seeing him, etc.

One day he says he loves me – and he really means it. Wow. Click. I'm in.

The weird thing was I always thought I'd be the one trying to convince someone to love me. Came from falling for all those straight guys in school, I guess.

I was excited, I realized I could love him, and he's not only hot but a good person with a head on his shoulders and not nuts or anything. I had given up my renunciation of love!

Within weeks of this moment, what became a years-long series of horribly unfortunate events began. Death of a loved one for him. Most of my friends had long since left the city. Most of his friends, I had thought, now viewed me as an outsider – an intruder. I become angry and resentful and learn not to talk about it cause he never sounded like he understood my deal. Over a few years, this goes back and forth, still having sex, but still growing resentment. Over time, I force a resolution. Make us talk it out. Things are better.

Then I have problems in my life. I realize that, even though the issues from the past had been resolved, the feeling of tension remains so I find it hard to talk about my own problems. He’s not much of a “discusser”. Impacts our sex. But, at key moments, he surprises me – he revitalizes the feeling that yes, he does love me and I'd rather be with him than any other dizzy queen in the world. He's solid. Years continue.

Then the deaths and family upheavals continue. Major ones. Ones that actually make us feel a stronger obligation to each other than before. And all the built-in issues and hesitation, the ones I hardly remember why I had them, are still there. Ones that, for me, pretty much reduce our sex life to spotty, at best. He’s got issues too.

Within the cycle of chaos we went through these phases, to my knowledge:

1. We both fucked around on the side
2. I was still fucking around while he might not have been
3. I decided to be faithful
4. He fucked around again.
5. I found out
6. I fucked around again.
7. We both agreed fucking around would happen.

We both grew older and, when it comes to sex, less secure with approaching each other. Cause it’s much easier when it’s some guy you don’t know.­

I think we both assume “he isn’t sexually interested in me anymore.”

When, for me at least, it’s just the layers of frustration and exhaustion, from all these years of troubles, that makes me not try anymore.

I want him to know, if he ever happens to read this, that if all our memories of each other were stripped away, with all their tribulations, and he appeared by my side and asked me to go home with him, I would in a heartbeat.

And so here we are.

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OK, now I need to pass out, folks. That’s the reader’s digest version, further condensed, pruned, and removed of identifying characteristics so that it bears little resemblance to reality. But it gives you a flavor of where our relationship is and why I can still talk (here) about sex in fuckhouses. It is the way it is. I want to make it better. I need to take some time to do that. But I’m not sure where to begin. Unless, I just reintroduce myself...