day's entry 2 of 2: drama

2004-09-03

5:01 a.m.

day's entry 2 of 2: drama

Oh boy. What a week.

My leave of absence is almost done. The 15th is return to hell. The project is so very nearly done! Yeah! My new office is still unfurnished! Yeah?

Let's see. Last entry (before the cat history one) was last Friday, so I'll start there. The LO came home from his trip late afternoon. That evening we summoned a Chinaman for supper and he picked up a movie. He'd never heard of it, but the box looked campy. The title was The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra. If you haven't seen it, see it. (especially you, Flood). I have not laughed so hard in a very long time! It's a spoof of '50s B science fiction / horror flicks. An indie film too. I'm still laughing over some of the lines. I had to buy it asap, so I did. It's in my CD drive as I type.

Saturday morning brought some forced, uninspired sex. The typical. I gave him a handjob, then I masturbated. Whoopie. (and not in the Newlywed Game sense either) I wanted to go to the vineyard to do salvage, but was scared of the hornets.

Sunday was my birthday. Whatever. The day was eventful, though. It's when the big drama occurred. Audible was having a 30% off sale, so I treated myself to a buttload of books. I'm likin' me some audio books! I bought 18! That afternoon I mowed the yard. When I came in I went to get a drink. When I went for ice I saw that a martini had already been made for me and the LO was waiting in the kitchen. I wanted gatorade, but the LO said to drink the martini. To down it. I did. Then the ordeal began. He downed his and made another round. From the look on his face, something was up. Suddenly he said, "Did Ryan ever give you any pictures?" I asked what he was talking about. He took me to my room, rifled through some papers, and produced a contact sheet of pictures of Ryan naked.

Well, the day had finally come. My dalliances had been discovered. I thought he knew about Ryan and me. I thought that was a dead letter. That was stupid of me to have printed that sheet. Still, I should have been more careful. Actually, I should never have allowed Ryan to seduce me in the first place. Not that it matters all that much in the end, but the LO broke a huge rule of ours -- one that we'd sustained for 18 years. He has his room, I have mine. Not for sleeping. We have a bedroom for that. Our individual rooms are our individual rooms, where we can go and be ourselves as individuals. There has always been an understood 'no trespassing' sign on the doors. He broke that rule. Not only did he go in, he went through my stuff. Big taboo. There's a hierarchy to taboos, and mine was greater than his, so I didn't mention that.

It was come clean or seize the opportunity to make repairs. This was a pivotal moment. I had one of those nano-second flashback memories of a session with my therapist. We talked about Ryan (post suicide attempt). I asked her if she thought I should tell the LO. She confirmed my own thought, which was let sleeping dogs lie. Why create more hurt than was already going around. Use the lesson to make repairs. So I never admitted to my relationship with Ryan. Don't ask, don't tell. He never did, nor did I.

I lied and said no. He asked why I'd kept and cataloged them. (The contact sheet was to remember which pic was which for the d-land Ryan pic page I still haven't done.) I lied again. I said for just in case he got whacky on me. I also said some true stuff. I said Ryan had been after me for a long time and it was the day I told him no for the fifth time that he did his suicide stunt. I also halfway exculpated myself by saying that there was a lot more that he didn't know and I saw no point in telling him (the LO) about it.

The LO didn't press the issue of Ryan any further. Instead he launched into a really nasty tirade of all kinds of ugly things he thought I'd done to him and went way back into the past to support his deal. The only time his arms weren't crossed was when he was shaking a finger in my face. He yelled the whole way. This was the second, maybe third time in 18 years that he's yelled at me.

I took it. I knew I mostly, but not entirely deserved it. Anything I tried to say -- even in response to a question -- was interrupted with his yelling "No. I'm not buying that." So I shut up and just let him roll. I never raised my voice even once.

I did say one sort of mean thing. I'm secretly kind of proud of myself for the wit. When he yelled, "You act just like my mother!" I replied, "Is that why you married me, Norman?"

Hot stuff intermission:

If I couldn't suck both those gorgeous nuts into my mouth together, I'd like to go down trying! (pun intended)

He ran out of gas, d�tente was reached, and we had leftovers for supper while watching Cadavra again with the cast commentary turned on. Come bedtime he started bite-tugging my earrings. Inept. Not sensuous. Not close. (Even BL, a 20 year old virgin, kisses great and knows exactly how to suck my earrings right. Ok. So not 'exactly'. Ryan was the champ at that, as he was at everything sexual.) I need to instruct. But that's like having to explain a joke, isn't it? Knocks the wind right out! Maybe that's what I'll need to do. He's boring. Always has been. But he's eager... -ish... I think. Well, boring instruction today, may lead to good stuff tomorrow. I can't go downhill from here, that's for damn sure!

I really do want him and me to work. I really has to. He's put up with so much shit from my bi-polar ass for so long. He deserves a break and some understanding -- and for someone to put up with him for a while.

His comment about my being like his mother is bigger than it seems. He's 42 as of Wednesday, and the umbilical has yet to be cut. Even back in the stone age when we were dating Sunday afternoon was sacred. After church (he was there to sing in the choir, not for the mythology -- though he does consider himself 'Christian', even though (?) he's a Quaker (now)). The parentheticals lost that sentence, didn't they?! So after church he used to spend 2-3 hours on the phone with mommy. Every winter we go there for a couple weeks for x-mas, especially since his dad died several years ago, so she wouldn't be alone. Spending the last two weeks of December in south Florida isn't such a bad deal, even if I know there's a honey-do list awaiting me every year. She's cool about the LO and me. Always has been, bigot though she professed to be before she learned about her son.

Ditto with my mother. I can't recall having shared my coming out story here in my diary. Perhaps I should/will.

Our fight -- is it a 'fight' if only one person yells and points? -- assured and reinforced in me that I don't want to lose him. Actually, I'd rather not. I told him that I have a gun and long to deep throat it. Tarquin, and my parents, and he (in that order) are why I don't do it. That, dear diary reader folks, is the truth. T will die soon. So will my parents. He (the LO) isn't going anywhere, so I'm tucking and rolling. I'll die first. I know that. If I could have out now I'd only argue for those four. They'd be devastated. Soon the four will come to be one. The LO.

On Sunday we came very close to splitsville. Sadly, I'm not horrified by that thought. I'm not eager for it either. Life with a partner is like musical chairs. Lots of chairs at first, then as the game progresses, fewer and fewer. Back in high school I read Plath's Bell Jar. One passage stuck with me then and continues to. Not only that, since Sunday's event, I see how it applies beyond its intent. In the passage the young protagonist imagines herself sitting in the crotch of a fig tree, in which she gazes from ripe fig to ripe fig. Each fig represents a different possible future for her. She can't choose, and as her indecision persists, she watches each of those figs one by one drop from the tree until none is left.

So that night, Sunday night, he wanted me and showed it, however ineptly. We had better than usual sex, if you could call it sex. It was basically the same scenario, except for that he did my ears a lot, too much and not right.

Something interesting did occur that I should note. I sucked, nipped, and tugged at his ear lobes (modeling what I want done) and asked him if he'd like his ears done. He said no. The shocker came when he, unprompted, suggested getting his nipples done. Woo-hoo!

He also said something about wondering what people do when their sexual interests (fetishes) change, how they maintain their relationships despite. I didn't know what to say, so I just blurted, "They rent out." No response to that one. I suppose it should be pursued.

So Sunday was a long day.

Monday, while he was gone to work, It dawned on me that he and I haven't traveled/been on a vacation since 19 fucking 90! We need time alone together. Very much. Our first getaway -- when we were still dating -- was to Kitty Hawk. At the time we were living in Norfolk (pronounced Naw'-fuck) so it could have been a day trip. As we were ascending the mound (I almost said hill!) where the big monument stands, and couple old guys (70s?), obviously partners, were walking down and passed us. The LO said, "That'll be us someday." It was the most romantic thing I'd ever been told. Obviously I haven't forgotten.

Monday morning, as I was mulling this, I got an idea. I went to the store and bought three cards and three bunches of flowers. One for our anniversary, one for his birthday, and one for atonement. In the card that went with the last one I suggested we take Thanksgiving week off and have a little vacation together in England. He did study abroad in college there, I've never been, he could be guide and know-it-all. Yeah.

He praised the flowers and said nothing of the cards. I said nothing. Then he took me to dinner at an ultra-posh Thai restaurant downtown. Once we got our drinks and he'd offered a toast to 'us', he said, "Let's do it."

Yeah!

Reparations with BL have also been made. He came over Wednesday afternoon and we had great convo. I was home alone. On arrival he gave me a hug. I didn't really respond. Fear of Ryan II I guess, and rightly so... -ish. Since BL's (thankful!) retrenchment, both Ryan and he (his replacement?) have vanished from my morning dreams and wank fodder. The LO, sad to say, has never occupied that space. Not that he isn't attractive. He is. Just not to me. Physically, I mean. No, he's not a troll. Far from it. He's just not 'my type'. BL isn't either. BL is on the twink side. Ryan wasn't either, but he was far closer than those two. So BL came over, we had fun convo. He hugged me a second time and kissed me, just a peck, on the lips. I wanted to reach down to grasp his beautiful bubble butt, I wanted to part my lips and teeth. I was sure that his tongue would arrive for a dance. We kiss REAL good he and I. I'd been glancing at his excellent basket every chance I got. Maybe he noticed.

When the LO got home, he was scowling. Did he fear Ryan II as well? Probably. But he's also been overburdened at work and is beside himself with Frances heading straight for his defenseless mommy. I had told the LO that I'd contacted BL about dogsitting during our trip and that he'd agreed. He was happy about that. The LO likes BL. All was going great until Sunday. Poor BL. I'll get him rehabilitated. He's a good guy.

Submitted for your thoughts... BL sent me this the night after he was here:

I enjoyed our time together today. ;-)

I will be on for a bit before journeying to some book.

I love you.

Ciao

Am I just paranoid or is he starting up again?

He's a cutie. I wouldn't mind sucking him off. (Such the basket!) But no no no.

Things are way better at home now. This is my last chance probably at keeping them that way. I need to decide what I want.

At the moment I'm really tired. Obviously I'm loved and wanted by guys my own age and younger. So how come I feel repulsive?

Being mad ain't easy.

Seth

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