it seems that i have quite a capacity for public sex.

and the man i am fucking is sleeping in my room.

i didn’t have to fuck him.  he said he needed to lie/lay(whatever) down for a few minutes and then went to sleep.

part of me wants to wake him but most of me is thrilled.

and i love DAG so painfully….

need to see him.

he’s afraid. afraid to see me. he knows that there are certain things that are inescapable. he’s afraid that what he’s always believed means nothing. nothing in the face of reality.

and i felt the same. i understand.

it sucks to release the things you’ve held tightly.

and i will wait. i’ve been waiting for lifetimes.

i really need to end the sexual relationship between myself and the man i am screwing.

he came over Wednesday night and i was planning on remaining clothed and chaste.  i had planned on telling him i could no longer sleep with him.

of course, this did not happen.

it would be one thing if the sex were enjoyable—for the most part, it isn’t.   i do not understand my motivation (can it be something as simple as loneliness?).

i woke up yesterday morning sticky with creamsicle flavoured lube. it was in my hair and on my face; the quilt had tacky spots.

the sadness was overwhelming.

*******************

three days ago i asked DAG if he ever thought about us and missed us together. he said, “yes, of course i do.” i believe him. he’s never lied. would never lie.

*******************

he called last night and we chatted. i was exhausted and miserable and did not feel like talking. his voice made me cry. he asked if i were okay. i said, “yes”.

but of course, i am not okay. he knows.

i would like to get married.

and i’m not even divorced yet.

i telephoned the man i am fucking–about 30 minutes ago. i invited him over tonight.

i stared at the photographs of the man i love and made vows that only a non-believer could make.

he is one of those folks who have everything. he is stupidly, absurdly, fucking heartbreakingly good-looking, he is brilliant and educated, he has an unmatched easy wit, he has an awesome, fit, muscular body, he is perfect in bed, he is talented, he is a genuinely good person. oh, and yeah, his cock is the Platonic Ideal.

…i can’t stop thinking about him.

decided to take in the recycling.  counted 67 champagne bottles.  don’t know whether to laugh or get looped and not think about it….

i like the man i am fucking, just not in that way.  my shallowness is stupid and distasteful yet there is nothing to be done about it.   i am older and not looking for a man to father my children.  i am looking for a man who is physically beautiful to me as well as my mental match.  unfortunately, it now seems that the physical outweighs the mental—hence my inability to feel “romantic” or sexual about the man i am fucking.