I was conceived on Halloween 1980 and born on August 5, 1981 the anniversary of the death of Norma Jean Baker, and sometimes I know why she did it.

There are no excuses, nut so many reasons in every shape and size, no matter what decisions we make we cause irrevocable damage to those we love the most.

Once a cheater always a cheater.

So my options were: Your Fucking other people, or You’re just not that into me.

So You tell me I’m beautiful, gorgeous, elegant, PRINCESS.

And you treat me like a Princess, you moved me into your home, pay all the bills, buy anything I want, give me cash, buy all the groceries, take me everywhere fancy expensive dates.You let me drive you 40g truck.You tried to buy me a car. You booked tickets to take me to your brothers wedding in Cuba, you want to take me to Vegas in july. You talk about marrying me. We go for dinner and lunch with your family. You told me your dad told you to marry me.

I have done ervy thing you have asked of me in every respect, personally, emotionally, physically, sexually ( when and if it rarely gets that far) I have always been eagar and willing to please you sexually. I believe that I’m fairly attractive.

I don’t have a problem with the porn, dirty magazines whatever. I do have a problem with the history on your computer that says that on Friday eve I couldn’t get you to have sex with me no matter what. Friday day I was gone with my children all day, you said you went into the city to get your hair cut. Your history says that you went on craigslist and kijiji looking for easy sex in the personals in our area.

Once a cheater always a cheater I wonder what you have to say about this? I would rather see the look on your face when you try to explain it, but I won’t because you won’t be back for another week, and if I don’t ask you now, I’ll OCD myself to insanity.

What exactly are you lacking in me that you may have done this?

Teagan and Sarah – Alligator. Find it listen to it.

So in keeping with my state of “sexual peek hell” I’ve also been reading a few very sexual/erotic blogs, you know, just to torture myself more. I wish I had the nerves, the balls to say or write or do all the sexual things I’ve considered or wanted to do for the last 15yrs.The women that write the blogs I’ve been reading are so sure and sexually healthy, not afraid to say and do what they want. Not damaged and self denied like I am.

But this is yet another situation I have created for myself, just because there is always a worst case scenario, doesn’t mean that it will be the ultimate outcome of every situation. I’ve been learing to believe that the most positive case scenario is just as possible.

Learing to accept that my fantasies and sexual desires aren’t wrong or dirty or oppressive to my women-hood (teehee funny word) That masturbation is a great thing. That giving a blow-job is actually an empowering act.That I enjoy doing it. That my pussy is not such a shameful thing and finally allowing a man to go down and lick, suck, kiss, bite, and finger my pussy, so I myself may enjoy some very good face. To accept that it’s ok that I quite enjoy some pain with my pleasure. I don’t like to make love, I like to fuck, to be fucked hard (see just there I wasn’t going to write “hard” because I felt dirty for a second, but I do like it hard, and this is about my truth). I like to have sex outdoors to me sex is such a raw animalistic thing, it just feels more natural and right when it is out-of-doors surrounded by trees and grass and bees and sand and sea.

I talk dirty during sex, but it is the only time that I’m truly saying what I want and how and when and I want it recipicated.I want to know what you want to do to me, I want a man to ask permission and I want him to listen and some times when I say no it means “FUCK YES PLEASE” and you’ll hear that in the way I say No; if you listen. I want to be ravaged. I’ve always told everyone that I don’t masturbate truth is I can’t remember never not masturbating, I can’t tell you when I started.  I’m gonna say around 8years old.because that is a clear memory of my new room in our new house when I was 8.

This post is jumbled and not finished maybe tomorrow I’ll restructure to make it flow, but right now this is my brain flow. Verbal diarrhea Mr. G.

I wish D. was here now because I really want to fuck him good right now. And he won’t be home for a possibly 2 weeks.

Remember this is my “journal” “blog” this is my spot. if you are offended or a prude you may want to not return because there will only be more of this shit for a while to cum.

I never met a man that cared if I cam. ( ok, yes YOU, made me cum for the first time, shattered my little reality that I had built on thinking that I had, but you only did that once before moving on. Even a year of fucking you previously, I don’t recall ever cumming like that, but you cracked my mirror that one morning on the living room floor surrounded by sleeping bodies. and I have been in pursuit of this quake again ever since)

And I’ve found it. Well yes of course I found it on my own, but now I’ve found a man that can make me quake every time. And again and again. But to circle back to the begining of the story “I have never in my adult life encountered a man that Ive dated or slept with that didn’t want to fuck me. What I mean is; that is all they have wanted to do”. Except this one.

I finally meet a good man in every sense of the word, AND he can make me cum everytime, except he rarely wants to. I’ve become the guy in the relationship.

Maybe I’ve reached my sexual peek, or maybe it’s just that he can make me cum  (with no great effort as well) But I’m inssatiable. I walk around wet whenever he’s around. I want to fuck him all the time.

Everything I read say’s and classically “ He’s just not that into you” or he’s fucking someone eles but both these theories have have a recipe that isn’t being followed the only right ingrediant is the lack of frequant sex. and includes to extra ingrediants that i won’t devulge here for his personal privacy.

My mom said “Quality, not quantity”

But the quality makes me want the quantity.

 I’m in sexual peek hell.

“Ok I’ll talk to you later, I love you, ok bye.”

now  we say

“Ok, I’ll talk to you later…”

And empty void, a ringing silence has taken the place of the words “ I love you”

1 Mississippi

2 Mississippi

3 Mississippi

Sometimes I almost say it still out of habit, my mouth knows the words.

But while I’m lost in Mississippi I remember all the shit you put me through and your complete lack of respect for me as a human being not even as a partner or friend, a human being, I remember your a fucking asshole.

“Ok, bye.”

I really love Mississippi in the spring-time. But I’m never going back.

Do you not realize that I am a girl, and that that is rude? I spend what little self time I have getting ready to see you. Like hair , make-up and cleaning -up the house, and than you don’t show? What a waste of my time and the very little I have of it. Don’t worry I won’t invite you again. we’ll play by your rules which means you only get to see me when I’m free, not when you want to.

I get that you get off on making me wait around for you, because you think my kids make me unavailable. believe me I could be less.

And the the rude shit you write on my wall? No one  I know, knows you to know that you are joking.You may think it’s funny, but I find it hurtful and embarrasing.

For fuck sakes you push me to take a step forward, to give into my emotions and tha you retreat like a puppy whacked with a newspaper. You will get what you ask for and more.

I get that you think I’m “beautiful”, but I don’t think you get that I’m a person to.

For fuck sakes.

I’ve been dating a really sweet man DC I can’t get enough of him.He’s hot and cold.Kinda like a roller coaster ride. He pressures me to take a step forward than takes himself two steps back.

He confuses me.

Things have happened that should have happened when I was 18/19

but it sounded more like this:

Other musical highlights included:

and one other that I can’t remember ummm yeah weirdness on my part.

Crazy in love  like that hot ass Beyonce.

All of a sudden I’m done writting.

Nervous like I haven’t been since I was 20yrs old.

I wait for you to show up, for that ten minute lull of sneaky eyes and secret smiles.

I quake, shake and shiver. I smile without caution or control.

I filled the locket with your hair made my heart a little nest in there. Than I closed it up; welded it shut.

But there is a hole the size of a small amathest ring, I stuck my hand in the fire but buried it further in the sand on a beach on the land of protection to keep.

 So I put it into a box with a lock , but no hinges nothing to lean back on.

Little cats canering around the boarder chasing behind the the words ” I miss you” Like a string attached to my heart.

Would you like a glass of wine?