Conversation

Hello again. I'm better now.

A bit of overload. And after spouse nearly walked in on me last night (did I forget to tell you about that? I was just writing to tell you about what I had been doing when guess who showed up.) the events of the day may have been a little much.

I have to admit that I was really looking forward to sharing my evening with you yesterday, and then I wound up going to bed without getting to talk to you at all. Would you believe he actually asked me why I wanted to be on the computer?

Last evening I found a white taper, about 10 inches long, and about three quarters of an inch in diameter at the base. I got out the lube, (wax is smooth, but it still isn't skin.) and then I retreated to my room, where I closed the door and began rubbing the taper against my clit. As I got wetter, I started to insert it and then I lay on my side and began using it to rub against my ass. I got really wet, and began (slowly, and really carefully - it has been over twenty years) pushing it against my ass. It was slow going, and I needed way more lube than I had anticipated, but I started inserting it into my ass. I slowly pushed it in beyond the first ring of muscles, and then waited to relax. About a minute later, I was able to get it past the second ring of muscles, and started to fuck myself with it. Slowly, carefully at first, and then faster, and deeper. It excites me just to be telling you about it. And with your permission, I will be doing it again while you are away. I still picture you, and imagine that it is your hands doing the manipulating, your fingers pinching my nipples, your dick inside me.

Getting closer, but still not getting all the way there. Although at this point, should I see you on the street and shake your hand, I will probably turn into a puddle and never quit having orgasms. Right there in the street.

But I think the time for talking this evening is over. Gonna try again. And tomorrow I go for a long walk near the pier... very windy, and the place I think of you most.

Okay, this is a bit tough. This morning was adventures in inadvertent showing off for a lovely gentleman at the gas station. And tonight, well, tonight even you couldn't have thought up.

I got stopped on the way home. Yes, that kind of stopped. And I must admit, as soon as I saw those lights, I started rearranging things. But to very little avail, as I found after the nice young policeman declined to give me a ticket. As I was turning the car back on, I discovered that while I had, in fact, managed to pull down one side of my skirt, the other was still, shall we say, less than modest?

Hope this gives you a good chuckle when you read it. I may be scarred for life.

I'm going to get some dinner now. Talk later.

Safe trip.

Have fun.

Yeah, I will. But that's okay.

Talk to you soon.

I started writing to you last night, and was interrupted.  I'll write this evening, rather than playing. 

I have less privacy now than when Maria is at home. 

Please have a good trip, and enjoy every minute.

There will be stories waiting when you get home.

Something is wrong. He is home. It is 9:45. He hasn't been home at this hour in years.

Not a happy camper.

Not able to follow instructions.

Getting really annoyed.

Ugh. Maybe he'll go away again. One can only hope.

Sleep well. I'm going to retreat into bed soon.

Today, my dear, was interesting.  Moreso than I had anticipated. 
I got some very enticing email, with challenging instructions.  I hesitated, thinking that I couldn't comply because I was wearing a t-shirt, and thus couldn't unbutton.  But wait - I had my work shirt on over the tee.  I could change.  And at the end of the day, that is exactly what I did.  I went into the bathroom in a tee shirt, and came out in a denim shirt buttoned to just under my bra.  (And I was wearing a particularly skimpy bra today, too.)

It was scary as hell, right there in the building, and then walking down the street in the city.  I'm afraid I pulled my coat close when riding the subway, but you did say while driving, right?

As soon as I got into the car (after retrieving the parking ticket) I undid the coat and positioned the seat belt to hold it open.  I pulled my skirt up so my thighs were bare, and I started home. 

Skipped the gas station, as it turned out I had more gasoline than I had thought.  But I did get stuck at stoplights with two (count 'em, two) busses.  Thank goodness people don't pay attention.

I had read one email before leaving the office, and as soon as I got to the house I came in here and read the other.  Wow. 

You are amazing.  And a mind reader.  And you push me just past the point of comfort.  Just that much.  And I love it.  It scares me, but I love it.

Have a good trip.  I'll behave.  I am looking forward to it.

 

Last evening I left the office and when I got into the car I pulled my skirt up over my stockings, and I drove to the shopping center.  I'm sure if the bus driver was looking my way, he was getting an eyefull.

I did a little bit of shopping, looked at a few skirts (most of which seem to be longer than you would like) and then went to try on some heels.  No salesmen at this store, but I did find a couple of pairs of heels I think you'll love.

Then it was off home, skirt hiked up, and window rolled down, cool breeze blowing on my thighs, as I drove down the coast toward home.

Of course, I had to get myself together before coming into the house, as I park on the street, and there is a picture window facing the spot where I get out of the car. 

You know the rest.  Boring, boring, boring. 

But really nice dreams. 

 

Hi there.

You're long since asleep, but I provised to write today, so here goes.

I started off last evening (once he finally got out of here) by taking off my robe - I wear next to nothing at home all the time.  (I take my clothes off as soon as I get in the door most days)

I grabbed a tube of lubricant, because I'm just so very far out of practice that I didn't know if the body would even work the way it is supposed to any more.  (Turns out it works just fine.)
And my friendly banana.  A small one, kind of firm, and not too ripe.  I grabbed the green afghan (you will remember it), and sat down on the couch.  I used a bit of the lube, just to get things started, and began rubbing my clit with the banana.  I wis holding it in one hand, and rubbing my nipple with the other, and then I began moving it lower, and rubbing, pushing just a little to start, and slowly, carefully, inserting it.  In and out, slowly, carefully, as I really have not done anything is so long I was a little bit scared.  But things seemed to be working and so I inserted it farther, and farther, and soon I was fucking myself with it, pretending it was your hand shoving it into me.

And then the cat jumped on my chest.

It was lovely while it lasted, although bananas are far more angular than you would expect.  Little bit scratchy, too.  Not like you.

And not a wonderful substitute.  NIce try, though.  Interesting, and fun until the cat decided to use me as a scratching post.

 

Okay, this is completely off the subject, but tell me something... what the hell is it with guys?  Spouse can't wait to get the hell out of the house on any given day... barely waits for me to get home before he's out the door. 

I send Maria off to visit her grandmother for a week, and all of a sudden I can't get rid of him.  What the hell is that all about?  You're a guy, tell me what he's thinking, because I certainly can't figure it out.  (And it is getting really annoying.)

Thanks!

You keep asking me how I feel.   And while I know what you mean, and I intend to provide lots of gory details, what I really feel is special.

You make me feel special. 

I think that's why you're my best friend. 

Hey there... it is after seven, and I've not heard about your father.  Everything okay?

I worry.  (And I know you do, too.)

Wish I could be there for you.

Damn you're good.

 

A while back you told me you wanted to find out just how kinky I was willing to be...

Found this list.  There are only a few hard limits, mostly for health reasons.  No animals, nothing that prevents me breathing easily (the broken nose and asthma do that well enough without help), no third parties (I trust you, but I don't trust many people.  And I don't trust anyone else this much.), and things that are going to cause permanent problems.  I want to go home with the same number of parts I arrived with.  (Additions are fine, it's the missing bits I'm not so good with.)

Anything else, if it interests you, it probably interests me.  Or at least you can make it interest me.

here's that list.


Anal Penetration 
 Anal Fisting 
 Anilingus 
 Cock Worship
 Cunnilingus
 Cyber Sex
 Double Penetration (oral/vaginal)
 Double Penetration (oral/anal)
 Double Penetration (vaginal/anal)
 Fellatio
  Masturbation
 Oral Sex
 Phone Sex
 Rough Sex
 Triple Penetration
 Vaginal Fisting
 Vaginal Sex

 
C. General Fetishes
Blood
 Body Modification
 Bondage
 Boots
 Corsetry
 Cross Dressing 
 Diapers 
 Enemas
 Exhibitionism
 Forced Feminization
 Golden Showers
 Hair
 High Heels
 Lace
 Lactation
 Latex
 Leather
 Legs & Feet
 Medical
 Nylon
Pain
 Panties
 Pantyhose
  PVC
 Rubber
 Scat
 Silk
 Uniforms
 Voyerism
 Wet & Messy

 
D. D/s Activities

Anal Worship
 Body Worship
 Branding (For the marking aspect)
 Caging
 Chastity Devices 
 Cock Worship
 Collars
 Contracting
 Corporal Punishment
 Domestic Service 
 Dress Codes
 Eating Patterns Control
 Following Orders
 Foot Worship
 Forced Feminization
 Forced Nudity
 Forced Orgasm
 Mouth Soaping
 Posture Training
 Private Humiliation
 Public Humiliation
 Sensory Deprivation
 Serving as Ashtry
 Serving as Furniture
 Sexual Service
 Toilet Service
 Verbal Humiliation

 
E. Bondage
Arm Sleeves
 Body Harness (leather)
 Body Harness (rope)
 Breast Bondage
 Casts
 Chains
 Collar & Leash
 Cuffs
 Genital Bondage
 Head Harness
 Hogtie
 Hoods
 Mummification
 Over Night Bondage
 Saran Wrapping
 Shackles
 Slings/Swings
 Spread Eagle
 Spreader Bars
 Stocks
 Straight Jackets
 Suspension (horizontal)
 Suspension (inverted)
 Suspension (vertical)

F. Scenes
Abduction Scenes
 Age Play
 Blood Play
 Branding Scenes
  Electro Torture Scenes
 Interrogation Scenes
 Intricate Bondage Scenes
 Medical Scenes
 Needle Play (temp piercing)
 Pony Play
 Puppy Play
 Rape Play
 Religion Secens
 Resistance Play
 Role Playing (various D/s roles)
 Sensory Deprevation Scenes
 Service Scenes
 Spanking Scenes
 Tickling Scenes
 Torture Scenes
 Vampire Scenes
 Videotaped Scenes
  
G. Tools of the Trade (aka "Toys")
 Bare Hands 
 Blindfolds
 Branding Irons
 Butt Plugs
 Canes
 Clit Clips
 Clothespins
 Dildos
 Ear Plugs
 Fire/Heat
 Floggers (leather)
 Floggers (rubber)
 Hot Wax
 Ice
 Knives
 Leather Belts
 Medical/Dental Equipment
 Needles
 Nipple Clamps
 Oils/Lotions/Spices
 Paddles (leather)
 Paddles (wood)
 Riding Crops
 Single Tail Whips
 Speculums
 Suction Devices
 TENS Units
 Ticklers
 Urethral Sounds
 Vibrators
 Violet Wand
 Weapons

Some things you just have to take on faith.

I have always believed in you.

Good news - the cat is back.

Unfortunate news... I lost my temper this evening and told spouse what I have been thinking for a really long time.  That I would rather be dead than ever have him touch me again. 

For now he is just pouting.  We'll see what happens.  Maria leaves tomorrow for ten days.  I think I may just start putting in a bunch of overtime.

He'll get over it, right?  It's not like he doesn't have a girlfriend.  Or like we've even slept in the same room in the past seven years or so.  But still,  if he wasn't taking blood thinners, we might have had some difficulty tonight.

I'll let you know what happens.

Hope your day was better.  (It almost has to have been, huh?)

When I think of you (and when don't I?) it turns me on so much I want to touch myself.
But of course, I won't until you tell me exactly, precisely what you want me to do to myself to increase your pleasure.  Which will, in turn, increase mine.

I imagine you touching me, fucking me, spanking me when I am bad (and believe me, I've been bad.  Can't count the number of self destructive choices I've made since I saw you last.)

I don't know if you remember this, but I am really terrible at the whole masturbation thing.  Always wind up just frustrating myself more.  Do you think you could teach me to make myself come?

And help me learn to be a better bottom to your top?

Please?

Hi there.  Have I ever told you how marvelously sexy it is that you read?  Just to be reading?  That could very well be the sexiest thing about you.  Well, except for the perfect penis and the remarkable imagination.  But at least one of those may have been developed, at least in part, by the reading.

No, not that one.  Geez!

This is probably the most rediculous question I will ever ask you, but what exactly were you doing on January 24th?  At about 2:00 your time?

I'll tell you why I want to know when I see you.  If we have the time for talking, that is.

I might just be too busy kissing all those lovely parts.

A paddle, huh?  But you have such nice hands.   Nice enough that I'm almost (almost) tempted to push my luck.  On the other hand, the odds are stacked so high in favor of my pissing you off in some manner within the next few months, I really don't think I need to be doing it deliberately. 

But I have to say, I'm kind of looking forward to it.

Just a little.

Monday morning I have a date.  He is tall, and has dark hair, and will in all probability make me miserable.

But he is a good dentist, and I do need that crown.

Still...

Patience.

Not my best quality.  Probably never was. 

This is something I need to work on.  There is not a thing I can do to change the situation, so I just need to be patient and not let things get to me.

We'll see how that works out.

Boy.  I'm up to two hundred posts here.  Guess I had more to say than I thought.  Keeping things bottled up is a really good way to keep my gastroenterologist busy, but it does nothing for my ability to enjoy Indian food. 

I sometimes (actually, pretty often) find things difficult to express, even to you, in this format.  Something to do with the fact that once I hit the submit button, it is out there forever.   But I am continuing to try, and hope to gain a few points for that.

I think just - talking - will be easier.  I have always felt comfortable talking to you.  And about some of the strangest things, too. 

Perhaps one of these days you will consider telling me what it was that made you so angry?  Knowing can't be any worse than not knowing.  No matter what it turns out to have been.

And if you don't think that was hard to write, you don't remember me as well as I think you do.  And I think you remember me far better than you let on for the first week or so of our correspondence.  (And I'm glad)

By the way, have I thanked you recently for being exactly who you are?   And for helping me let go?  God, it is good not to have to worry about everything for a change.

In case you were still wondering, that was a "yes".

 

Just spent a minute looking at a map.  I think Em was right... it was fate that brought us all together in that time and place.  ( Of course, he was very drunk when he said it. )  Could we have been a more diverse group?  In that town?  I don't think so.

Funny, isn't it?  And in the end, the people I consider most trustworthy, and feel closest to, are all people I haven't seen in over twenty years. 

I am looking forward to seeing them while I'm home.

Speaking of hotels, might it not be simpler to put it on my card, rather than yours?  I imagine it could get complicated if you have to explain random rooms, especially if they are in other than the places you were visiting.

Just askin'

 

And another question.

What is your stand on waxing?  Traditional bikini, Brazilian, none?

Or is it something you'd rather attend to yourself?

The woman who does my eyebrows gets booked up pretty quickly, so now is the time to set any appointments I might need.

Well, now I feel awful.  I really shouldn't take my frustrations out on you.  I am sure I will only pay for it in the end.  Sorry.

I'm having a difficult time with a couple of my lovely (ha!) release notes.  And not being able to concentrate isn't helping.

You will decide whatever you decide.  The only decision I had to make has already been made.

I just need to remind myself once in a while.

You are teasing me.  I know this.  And yet, I seem unable to think of anything else.   Oh, if only you meant all those things.  What a time we would have.

And if I don't get some kind of release soon, I am going to either explode or lose my mind.  Maybe both.

Tell me.

What shall I wear when I arrive?  A corset, that lifts and supports my breasts, but leaves the nipples exposed?  A low cut blouse, one that clings?  A little skirt, one barely long enough to cover the tops of my stockings? 

Or something demure, safe?

Shall I arrive with only my ID and a credit card, and leave myself entirely in your hands?

Tell me.

Tell me what toys you want me to use to arouse and please you.
Tell me how you want me to touch myself, what toys you want to see me use, and how and where you want me to use them.

Tell me exactly how you will take me
Possess me,
let the world know that I belong only to you.

Talk to me.

Please.

First things first... when I arrive, we will need to get past that inevitable awkwardness we encounter every time we come back together.  Usually we have a day for this, but in this case, it wil have to happen quickly.  Perhaps a conversation prior will help.

After the door is closed, the initial item on the agenda will be me apologising for having stayed away so long.  This will be done in any manner and for any length of time necessary.  Believe me... it may not be what you will request, but it is what you require.

Following that, I imagine the first thing you will want will be a detailed history of what (and who) I have been doing for the past however many years.  This will, of course, be rather uncomfortable for me, which should make it really fun for you.  (I'll let you in on a little secret... one way or another they were all very much like someone you know.)

From here, it becomes a bit hazy.  In the past, it was always a more cooperative venture... I'm just not sure what you will request.  I'll keep working on it though.  I do know that somewhere in here will come the sterilization of any shared toys.  I'll bring bleach.  (I trust you, but that doesn't mean I trust all the people you trust.)
By the way, while I won't object to either, I prefer rope to handcuffs.  Logistics.  Should I find myself alone, I can get out of rope.
(I still read too much Stephen King.)

Remotely close?

Three pm to ten am?  Are you sure?

Now, I don't know much about your life, but I haven't had sex in five years.  And I haven't had good sex in at least twenty.  I don't know if you'll live that long.

You're the only man I sleep with.  And as of this afternoon I may never sleep again.  Or be able to concentrate on work.

Oh, sweetie...

Other than my soul and written consent, I didn't think you were going to ask for anything.

My mistake, I guess.

 

 

You do know that you make me crazy, right? 

 

It is five thirty in the morning.  Please bear with me if I am a little incoherent, as I have had very little sleep.  This just keeps running through my mind, and I need to say it before my courage fails me.

What he wants?  To control his environment, his destiny, perhaps me.

What I want?  To trust enough to surrender that control.  To hand over the decisions, at least for a while.  To allow myself to feel, to be held, touched.
To wear stockings and spike heels.  To be kissed all over.  To kiss him all over.  To begin at his earlobes and work my way down to his knees, kissing, licking, sucking.  To be touched in places no one has touched me in decades. 
To be propped up on pillows and have icy cold lube dripped on me, in me. 
Holding, touching, hugging, caressing, feeling, fondling, pressing, pinching, kissing, licking, biting, sucking, binding, pulling, stretching, clamping, clipping, piercing, penetrating.  All the ways one can be touched.
Marking - temporary or permanent. 
I want to let go and give him those choices.  I want to believe.  I want to trust again.

Come to me.
Bring rope.

I guess it is just about that time... so I will gather my thoughts and curl up with them once again.  Funny, if I was ever to find myself in a room with him, I would probably just go ahead and stop breathing.  I don't know if I could manage to actually touch him after all this.  The memories, preserved for years, and added to the experience and longing I have accumulated over the years, might just be too much to make real. 

The touch of his hand on my cheek, the feel of his arm around my back, pulling me close, I do know that I wouldn't send him away.  It doesn't matter athat he belongs with someone else.  I will never say no to him.  I will never tell hnim to go home to his wife.  Others, yes.  Him?  never.

I can still feel him kissing me, caressing me, filling me.  It keeps me alive.  It makes me want to get up early in the morning, just to have a few minutes alone with my thoughts.

Every night, in my thoughts, he holds me until I fall asleep. 

One day I will see him again. 

Until then, I will remember. 

It is funny - for someone who isn't a part of my life any more, I seem to be spending an awful lot of time worrying about you.  And it isn't just that it is part of my personality to worry about the people I love. 
 
I hope everything is all right.  I'll write you a bedtime story this evening, as a distraction.  Perhaps it will make you smile, and it will certainly take my mind away from things for a few minutes.  (Or longer, as the case may be)
 
Take care.

One of these days I am going to have to enable statistics on this blog, so I can see if you are really reading it.
 
I wish there was something I could do to help you.  I know, you don't need help, and you most certainly don't need mine.  I understand this, but would like to be able to do something anyway. 
 
But it seems all I can offer is friendship. 
 
And the occasional smile.

Thank God you're all right.  You keep scaring me like that and I don't know what I am going to do.  Yes, even after all this time.  How could I not know something was wrong?
 
I thought someone had gotten into your email account.  You are deleting everything, aren't you?
 
And don't forget to not save sent messages.
 
And take care of yourself.  I hope you feel better soon.
 
You do know to call me if you need anything, right?

Is everything okay?  You sound different, somehow.    I hope that everything is all right where you are. 
 
I know your father was in the hospital.  Is he doing better?  Are you going back?  And Gladys?  How is she?  Was she ill while you were there? 
 
Tell me what's going on, please. 
 
I'll write you a novel over the weekend, but you know I am limited in my scope here in the office.
 
Posted and emailed

One last thought before I leave the office for the day.  Something I found on the internet, attributed to a chinese fortune cookie:
 
If you and I agree all the time, one of us becomes unnecessary.
 
 
Somehow, I don't think you'll be unnecessary any time soon.

So tell me, what do You think about? 
 
I wonder. 
 
You want to know what I imagine would happen if you were to show up on my doorstep?  This is it.
 
You walk in, I grab your hand and lead you to the couch. You sit down, and I lie down with my head in your lap and sleep peacefully for the first time in I don't know how long.  How's that for a fantasy? 
 
Afterwards?  Well, that's another story entirely.  But bubbles aren't out of the question.

I'll bet you already knew this, but today is the anniversary of the first Elvis Presley recording.  Sometimes listening to the oldies station pays off.  I remember how much you used to enjoy his movies.  (although sometimes I wonder if it wasn't the pretty girls you were enjoying so much.)  I have grown to appreciate him more than I did at the time.  maybe because some of his music suits my moods better these days. 
 
Maybe just because I enjoy a broader range of music than I did at the time.
 
Gotta love the Beatles, and No Doubt.  (among others.)

Artemis is feeling better.  He will be coming home tonight.  His little trip to the kitty dentist is going to prevent me from going on a cruise this year, but we love him.  
 
I am rethinking the road trip while I am back east as well.  I'm starting to think my time might be better spent in a nice, long bubble bath.  Living in a one bathroom house, I never get time for that sort of thing.  A few hours in a nice warm tub, with a good book and some music... heaven.
 
One of the pleasures of vacationing by myself. 

I need to stop thinking about you in the office.  It makes me inefficient.  I cannot concentrate on my change requests. 
But you have the cutest earlobes.  And deep, soft, beautiful eyes.  And I remember.  I remember us all wrapped up in each other, drifting off to sleep.  God, I miss that.
 
 

Back to ranting now.  He is alive.  Answer this for me, if you can... why do I expend the effort to worry about this creature?  He isn't nice, he is probably the most boring man ever created, and he is really mean to me.  So what is it that makes me worry when he isn't home by the time I get up in the morning?  It isn't as though I can sleep with him there, anyway.  He comes in in the middle of the night and bangs pots and pans all over the place, lets the cats out in the dark (we have raccoons in the back yard that are a danger to them) and just generally makes me into an insomniac.  So why do I worry?
 
Ugh. 
 
 

When I see you (trying to be an optimist... does it suit me?) I will show you a picture of Maria with two of her friends and ask you to pick her out.  I think you will get it right on the first try, unlike one of our mutual friends.  I'll give you a clue - she doesn't look anything at all like me.
 
She sometimes says the strangest things.  While looking at some old photos of me, she said "Mom, what's going on here?"  I asked her what she meant, and she said " You look happy.  You never look happy." 
 
Makes me rethink some of my least successful choices.

Something strange happened today.  Well, not really strange, as it has happened before, but unusual.  Spouse didn't get home before I left for work this morning.  And as I was taking Maria with me (she is on her way to Santa Cruz for the day with friends) she didn't get to say goodbye to him.
 
Usually if he is going to get in after 5am or so, he does it on the weekends.  That's the unusual part.  Him being gone all night is an every day thing.  In fact, the only times he doesn't stay out all night I accuse him of being ill.  (And I am usually correct.)
 
So where the hell was he that he couldn't be home to say goodbye to his daughter?  That annoys me.  If he is going to be gone, why can't he just go?
 
Okay, enough of that rant for today.  Like you really needed to hear it.

Unhappy anniversary.
 
Twenty three years today.
 
Mom's birthday too.

This afternoon I take a gaggle of teenagers to a reception. They are all pretty good girls, and make for good company most of the time, but as young teens, they can get a bit, shall we say, noisy. The slapping games are a problem, because from where I am sitting, I can't tell if they are playing or fighting. All I know is what I hear... and it is not pretty.

We will all have rubber chicken, and then sit through two or more hours of introductions, followed by a really silly skit.

And in a week, we'll do it all again.

And I love it.

The boss just came up and started a conversation with me about retirement. And about the fact that we have no retirement plan. Oh, we have a 401K, but no pension, and no provision for medical care after retirement. None.

Terry is retiring in about a year and a half. From the state. So she will have all the bells and whistles. But those of us who went to work for start-ups have our stock. What a joke that is.

It is a little bit strange to have my boss standing here talking to me about financial plans for the future. I sure hope she isn't telling me something. (High tech is notorious for letting people go in large bunches.)

If it comes to it, I can sell the house and move home. I have no idea what I would do there, or how I would make a living, but we would have a roof over our heads. And since spouse never ever goes to Ohio, (he didn't even come to Daddy's funeral) maybe I could finally get him out of my hair.

I don't think you can know how good it is to have you to talk to. And yes, I know how strange that sounds. But it is true. Just knowing you are out there makes it easier to say what's on my mind, and sometimes just saying it is enough. For a while, at least.

Thanks.

Something I think I should tell you. Mom is thinking of selling the house. I know how much you love it, and I think the next time you are in town you should at least stop by one last time. Nobody is living there now, as Mom is down in Columbus with Terry. I stay there when I am in town, as does Terry, but my friend Beth takes care of it most of the time. Had I seen you this summer, I would have asked if you wanted to spend some time there.

It is one of the reasons I am going back. I am going to miss the place. Lots of memories. Funny, you never know what you're going to miss until you don't have it any more.

I'm taking lots of pictures.

Another question - Do you still smoke? So many people have quit, I never know any more.

I don't know if it really matters where you live, as I found many strange things last month in Ohio, like smoking sections in restaurants, and smoking in bars, that have been outlawed here for a really long time. I don't know if it is that way in New York or not. I thought there was something about smoking in restaurants in the City, but who knows how far that has gone.

Me? Yeah, I had to quit a few years ago. But I still miss it.

I just thought of something... Hilary Clinton is your Senator! How cool is that? (Of course, I live in the land of Dianne Feinstein and Barbara Boxer, so maybe I'm a little bit prejudiced.)

Are you political? Worked for candidates, or attended a convention? Just curious, but I think it sounds like something you might be interested in.

I am having some trouble getting spouse to set a date for his vacation. I want him to go at the beginning of August, so I have the house to myself for a few days. But he is being stubborn about giving me dates, so I can't get him a ticket.

I suppose whenever he decides to go will be fine, and I can get him a much cheaper ticket if he goes after the middle of August, but if he is going to do it, why can't he make up his mind?

I had heard that your father had moved back to Virginia. He moved into your Grandmother's house, didn't he? Now that is a house. While I was home Beth and I went down to Amish country, and we spent some time looking at wood burning stoves. Brought back some very happy memories. (Although I can't see myself doing anything but burning things if I ever tried to cook on one)

I liked your Grandmother a lot. She was a very special lady. Boy, if I'm not careful I am going to get all teary right here in the office. Can't have that.

I hope you are having a wonderful trip. I thought about driving down there since I had so much time this summer, but figured I would get myself lost. But it was a nice fantasy while it lasted.

I heard from you today. You think this might be the better read. You are, of course, correct. I keep my real thoughts to myself most of the time, and I have chosen to confide in you the only way I had. So this has been a conversation with a ghost, in a way. I only have my memories of you to play to, and they are decades old. But if you are willing to bear with me, I will let you in on all my little secrets.

Don't forget I warned you they might be disturbing.

I miss you. I think we need to sit down face to face and have a real conversation. It is long past time, don't you think? There are things that need to be said that might lead to misunderstanding if they are in writing and you don't have the context of intonation and facial expressions to help you interpret the intent. And boy do I sound pretentious.

I would be happy to come to New York. Or meet you in the middle somewhere. Even for an hour. Hell, even for a minute.

There were many things wrong with us, but you need to remember that during our time together no bones were broken. No shoulders dislocated, and no right hooks thrown.

You never tried to suffocate me by sitting on my chest until I couldn't breathe, and you never, ever hit me in the face.

Don't be so hard on yourself. My taste in men really has gotten worse.

Only one person that I have met in meatspace knows about my blogs. And he (you) only know of the public one. I don't believe I will tell you about this one for some time, as I think it might just scare you half to death. To think that I have been carrying on a one-sided conversation with you for months about all sorts of things could just be too much for you after all this time.

But I talk to you all the time. And I think of you every day.

Something I found at another journal...

Never give up on something you can't go a day without thinking about.

That would be you.

God the things I want to say to you. First and foremost, I want to tell you how annoying it is that you aren't responding to my mail.

I may have done that in the other blog, though. But still. I have this blog so I can tell you everything. So I can be myself and never have to worry that you will find it and know how crazy I am. And how crazy I still am about you.

Now all I want to do is talk to you in the other blog. Can't do that... must refrain from making it personal. Might have to mention spouse in there, but it must be natural. Like a rant, or something. I have done that before.

I can't let you know I am speaking directly to you. I can't lose you again.

Jim Croce. Morning walks and bedroom talks, oh how I loved you then.

What am I doing? Me, the one that hates change. The one that clings to things she knows aren't good for her, for fear of the unknown. But you aren't unknown, are you? In fact, I know you better than I know him. Better than I could ever know him.



I don't know what to do. I want to see you so badly that I am having trouble concentrating on anything else. Will you come to see me?

Or will it be another two decades?

I miss you. I already knew how much, and then you wrote, and I suddenly knew that I had underestimated by at least a hundred percent. How am I going to continue to pretend that I can think of anything but you? Because I can't. I don't know if you ever knew that, but if ever you speak to Em, ask him. He can tell you. Just a little bit obsessive, that's me. I had forgotten how to hope that you would come back into my life.

God help me, I don't want to let you go.

Heavens. I went back to my Journalspace blog last evening and found that I need to start censoring myself. I didn't think that I had mentioned you very much at all over there. Turns out, you are most of what I talk about. Gee, think that will go over well, ellie? I don't.

Sorry. Talking to myself in the middle of our imaginary conversation. I just hope I got the worst of it out of there before you saw it.

I guess I will know if you don't respond any more.

I am going to write a letter to you this afternoon. I will be polite, and ask you about what you are doing, and what your life is like now. I will not pry, and I will not let you know that I am trying to figure out where you are so I can run into you. By accident, of course.

It won't happen. You are living in a place that is way too large for that now. But if you had still been in Ohio, things might have been different.

Timing is everything.

Why do I still love you? I know why I still love them, we were so close, it isn't possible to stop. But why you? And why this way? It isn't as though things ended well, because they didn't. And it isn't that we have so much history, because I have close to the same history with them. And I don't know that the additional six years would have made a difference to them either. I am not nearly as unlovable as I believed myself to be. So why is it that I understand that Carl doesn't answer my emails, although he reads them all, and I can accept that Em won't read email for goodness knows how long, because that's who he is. But I can't deal with the fact that you may have received an email from me, and you aren't already answering. Dumb. You always took your time writing to me. And I was always the only one you were writing to. I'm sure you have other things to occupy your time.

But I resent them.

Thank you. I sent you to my journalspace account, because you seemed to have a bit of an interest. I will never ever let you see this. Why? Because you are the one to whom I am speaking most of the time, and you would know it immediately. You know me better than anyone else on earth. And you would recognise yourself.

I do need to get some perspective, though.

The rest will just have to take care of itself.

I told you today. What I had been feeling, all these years. At least the part that can be told without tears.

The rest will have to wait. I always thought I would see you again.

Spouse wants to know why the guys are so important. Even if I could tell him, he wouldn't ever understand. It is like getting part of myself back, after having it removed. I honestly don't believe there will ever be people I will love more.

And they love me.

What the heck am I doing? Is it too good to be true? Do I refuse to believe it, because I have been so down for so long? Do I ever tell you that my taste in men actually deteriorated after?

Do I dare count on them? Will they be so glad to see me next time? Or will there be regrets?

So many questions. But I love them. And, wonder of wonders, they love me.
It will be enough. It has to be.

When it rains, it pours.
There is nothing better in all the world than knowing you are loved. Being held by a man who obviously wants nothing else in the world than to be holding you is better than I can possibly describe.
I have been a fool to think that they wouldn't love me any more. I should have immediately gone to them. What an idiot I am. How could they let me know, when I was hiding even from myself?

Is it possible to have too much of a good thing? I found people who love me (and believe me, I didn't think anyone would) and now I am receiving email from someone I thought hated me. (It turns out he thought I hated him.) ( Never.)

Maybe I do need a vacation from this vacation. Or maybe I should take it at face value, and just be glad I found them again.

Thank goodness I found them. And thank heavens one of them kisses so darned well. That will get me through any number of other little surprises. Thank you, friend.