Brave Soul, Cunning, Bravely Not So Smart?

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A married woman has not had been intimate with her spouse in 10 years. She has not had intercourse with him in 10 years. Yeah, they’re still married, living under the same roof.

I began to pondering  this, wondered if this is a common marital arrangement. Would you consider this an “arrangement”? A polygamous relationship is an arrangement, why wouldn’t this be the same?  As you process the situation, you have a horde of questions. Was this mutually agreed upon?  How did you arrive with the sleeping arrangements? Who decided which closet, bathroom, bedroom? Does the normal everyday stuff change? Is that divide like roommates or does the everyday stuff remain as close to resembling a married couple for the sake of those looking in? And is there nudity? Usually married people of couples in committed relationships expose their naked bodies as a natural part of co-habitation. One would assume, if there’s no co-mingling there’s no kissing…no pecks…no nothing. With all this unknown running through my mind, I had to learn more.  Was she a brave soul? Or a really cunning woman? Or just bravely stupid?  I told relish calling people the “s” word, but it seems appropriate in this case.

Upon further conversation, gaining permission to write about this in my blog, I found myself marveled at her sense of control of her life, her goals, her accomplishments. Yes, accomplishments!  She was a dutiful wife until one day her spouse of many years was diagnosed with a non life threatening ailment. It would not be cured, he would not die and there is no cure. It became all about him and his ailment. Everyday was dedicated to his need to be fulfilled as a man, even the sex itself was no longer about her but him getting his ejaculation when he needed to feel manly. Her vagina, having been had no issues in the past, suffered a metamorphis due to the medication he was on that wouldn’t cure him, but help him manage the ailment. She wanted to continue being an intimate couple but wanted him to use a condom. A simple request, right?  Well, no! Not so simple. He used them for awhile and eventually he stopped…stopped having intercourse. I was reminded that he didn’t do anything to give her a happy ending. No finger, no tongue, no vibrator. She was left to find her own orgasm. He didn’t want to talk about sex. He began to tell her no so nice things about her body. He made her feel unattractive and unappreciated as a woman.

Five years past. She reminded me that when the 5 year mark came around she didn’t plan to have an affair, it was, a natural progression. She was, in her words: “…ready to be fucked by a man’s penis and not a dildo.”  What she discovered, unbeknownst to her, she missed giving pleasure to a man more than having intercourse, more than having him lick her clit, more than him finger fucking her, sucking her tits. She began to experiment orgasmic sensations while sucking a mans cock. The more it grew, the harder it became, the wetter she would get until she felt the pulsation of an orgasm. She use to gag when going deep with a penis, now she likes to go deep, stroke it with her tongue, lick his balls and swallow as much of the penis as she could fit into her mouth.  This of course made the guy she was having the affair with ape shit for her. Made him want her more. They were together for a few months and she decided to move on, to explore her feminine curious side.

Three years past while she was engaged with sexual pleasure with select people when she met a couple whom seemed perfect. They shared many interest and they both made her feel sexually desirable and wanted.  You see it’s one thing to feel sexy, it whole different story to be sexually desired. Her time with them made the world a perfect place. She’d give some reason for having to spend the weekend away from home. It was a fantasy. The three of them in another city with the freedom of anonymity, gave her a sense of prowess. She changed her hair, her style of dress, brought sexy panties with matching bras and on one trip she returned with a discreet tattoo that was meant for lovers only.

Twelve years in, she got the serious stuff done. Vaginal rejuvenation, strategic cool sculpting, starting hot yoga, pilates and long walks on the beach with her trusty canine. She was always selective, but more so now. The couple moved due to job promotion, she visited a few times, but it’s been a couple of years since she’s seen them.

“Somethings” She told me. ” Are good for the short term, too much takes away the goodness, lessens the appeal.”

On that I have to agree wholeheartedly.  It’s a defining factor for nonmonagamy. It lends to the saying, variety is the spice of life.

She remains in her marriage, as a convenience, to maintain the lifestyle she’s accustom to and the family structure, so much as it is, intact.  He’s not demonstrated any interest in all these years of abstinence. She secure with herself and who she is. Although he still makes derogatory comments, they no longer bother her.

I asked the obvious. Do you think he’s aware of your sexual prowess?  Her response. “Oh I’m sure it’s crossed his mind at some point, but he’s not into me and he’s of a mindset, if he isn’t, no one else would be either.” 

I say Brave Soul…anyone who goes against the grain of society, especially when it’s carnal knowledge has got a lot of chutzpah. A toast for the lady.

glasses

Addison
adding.blog@gmail.com

 

Simple Arithmetic

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It’s simple arithmetic. One plus two equals three. But this simple equation can become complex. It’s fairly simple when you have three eggs, three oranges, three bottles of beer, three people out for a jovial night of fun, three friends.

Complexity is, as they say, in the eye of the beholder.  L’amour de trois is open sex with three people, two men & a woman or two women & a man. There’s no complexity even if they trois frequently. They enjoy having sex with like minded people. The two men enjoy sexual intercourse with each other and they like the added bonus of a tits & pussy. There are plenty of married, conventional married couples that enjoy the company of another man. He may like to watch his wife engage with another man and the other man to engage with him. He sucking him off while he performs cunnilingus on the wife. It’s a matter of choice who actually penetrates who. The third party leaves and the couple goes back to normal.  That’s the simple arithmetic.

A couple discusses at length that they’d to have a third party join them. Discreet being the optimal desire in order to experience this forbidden desire. That can be simple arithmetic. A couple discusses that instead we want this third person to be there for us…for us exclusively. Not necessarily live with them, but any and all sexual activity with them and them only. The arithmetic has just become complex. Instead of the third person leaving to go home after a fun romp naked in the bedroom, they will likely stay overnight, in bed with them. This ritual will be repeated many times. The couple is now polyamory. It takes a strong relationship. A mutual respect by all. Consentement.

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I was in a polyamorous relationship several years ago. I had many regrets, but not the regrets you may think. I wish I had done more, been more to each of them. She was a no nonsense woman who felt she needed to wield her sword at every turn. Yet in the bedroom she became submissive and yielding. I remember the first time we were together at their farm. No not that kind of farm, a very nice piece of land on an inlet to a massive bay body of water. There were several out structures with house as the focal point as you traveled the half mile drive way to the portico. We had dinner, laughed at each others jokes about various things. He was a stern man in public but in the privacy of his domain he was very jovial, had a wonder laugh and would often have tears in his eyes while telling a funny story relating to his former profession. I remember thinking how great it was that I was chosen out of who knows how many other women who had responded to their polygamous solicitation. After dinner and tiding the kitchen, we sat on the porch wrapped in light blankets. He broke the ice, got up from beside her, to sit beside me and asked if he could kiss me…french kiss me. I still throb between my legs when I think about that first kiss. I removed my blanket exposing more for him to enjoy. As he moved my t-shirt above my breast, he discovered I wasn’t wearing a bra. Instantly his cock got pressing his trouser like an animal wanting to escape. I could hear her moan like a cat in heat and I unzipped his trouser, cupped his cock in my hand, beginning to masturbate him. When I felt that tiny drip of clear liquid, I moved to cup his cock in my mouth, going up and down, deep into my throat. His moans were  unmistakeable. And I as I always do, get so wet and horny when I am sucking on hard cock…she came over, stood next to us. I slid my free hand into her slacks and found a moist haven of soft pussy lips…she removed my slacks and began slicking my clit, driving me in sane with desire to be fucked by his cock that was now fucking my mouth… It was a natural switch him on his back, she on his face, me sitting on that sweet hard cock… She later watch as he lubricated me for anal play. I licked her wet pussy while he entered my throbbing wanting rear. He finger fucked my wet pussy while he slid in out with ease in my rear. We showered together. Had a snack. Later that night, he watched as she I found immense pleasure in each other. We were together for a long time. Traveled together. Dinner with their friends, who were non the wiser. How or why it ended, I’ll keep as my secret.

I’ve had several relationships since the polyamory and now I have that door opened to me again. Two plus one can be complex. What would you do? Addie

 

 

addig.blog@gmail.com

I solemnly…sound mind & mature body

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I give a loud chuckle, as I begin to write. It’s been…what? At least a year that I’ve gone straight. Cold turkey. One solid year with one sex partner. I’m sorry, but about to find a bridge and jump!  Are we humans, according to the law of the land, supposedly have just one sex partner????  Seriously! What monk created the word monogamous. Surely his ink well ran dry, his quill unable to script it’s true meaning. Along come the old senior monk, penis dried up but ink well full, his quill adds “sex”.  I think the Europeans got it right. As did the Asians. Consorts, cortisanes, paramours, are what keeps them separate from Americans puritanical mind-sets.  Ménage trois, polygamous, not necessarily polygamy, have success when entered into with a strong consensus and openness. Sharing your prowess can be liberating.

I’m not wired to having the same kind of intercourse when he’s in the mood. Two men or a man and a woman adds so much dynamic complexity that is so simple and basic.  If man were meant to be one horse riders, strip joints, private sex clubs, prostitution, Ashley Madison, online sites geared to couple sharing would be dormant to the sounds of crickets.  If you’ve read my earlier blogs, my favorites are private, by invite only, social gatherings hosted by couples and some individuals at their residences.  I met my current, monogamous partner at such an event.  It was love at first site, but he’s not into sharing thus we’re in the “where do we go from here” mode.

I admit to my error. I thought I’d found the perfect mate. My like-minded guy, or so I was led to believe, who I was willing to spend the rest of my life with. I was distracted by the lifestyle: new expensive European sports car, the ring the size of Mt St Helene, private jet, locations…but the sex is ho-hum.  I’ve shown him some of the hottest women (okay the other guy thing I get-not wanting to share) in the US, France, Thailand, Scandinavia…nothing!  My thing with this is; you found this kitty at a couples swap party and now you want to deprive the kitty of it’s milk. I’m not a happy kitty in the bedroom.  I want us to share our tenacity for love and engage in happy healthy cunnilingus, fellatio, ménage a trois…

I’m back to my blog. Not a good sign. I solemnly do swear I am of sound mind & (matured) body.  I want to feel a woman’s lips on mine.

depressed woman

Addie

Accepting De-Nile

 

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I’ve attempted to walk away from my site. A woman of a certain stature should put those carnal ways in a box, locked, on a high shelf. Create meaningful fantasies with her mate. Be content to satisfy only him.

I entered into what I thought I was supposed to be…a relationship, changing my social media status to “engaged”, almost married. I abandoned all those things of lustful joy, all those people I enjoyed being licentious with, my toys, my naughty outfits for those lascivious soirée, my best friend who enjoyed my salacious ways (especially the fellatio). Being pensive in bed because you certainly can’t show your finance all those exotic things you know.

Whom ever stated that the missionary position was boring, basic sex, should be amply rewarded. Ho-hum.

At this point I am seriously contemplating therapy…finding the simplest, less drama method of swimming out of De-Nile. I care, yes, very much. But I was clearly fooling myself by thinking he and I would create our own world of sexual erotica. He’s a dashing man, very well maintained, successful, a total package…well almost. His ideal woman is chaste, does those moderate things in the bedroom with the lights off. 

If you’re familiar with my blog, you’re surely scratching your head in wonderment right now, knowing full well that I love the act of sexual contact, the erotic nature of a man when his cock is throbbing, exposed to the openness of being engulfed by my mouth…being uninhabited by his penetration in my mouth and eventually my anus.

I suggested one evening while we were at dinner with a few of his business associates and their stodgy wives, leaning over to whisper in his ear what I would like to do when we returned to the hotel; a bottle of Cabinet Sauvignon, just us enjoying each other. I guess I wasn’t clear enough. He ordered the bottle, poured the wine, picked up the remote and found the late news. He climbed between the sheets watching and sipping. When his cock gained a rise, he stroked himself a few times, stuck his fingers in my cunt, made a comment of how wet I was and rolled on top, with a few down strokes, pulled out and flooded cum on my thigh, spilling onto the sheet. It’s my turn when he cums, using his cum to lubricate my vulva he finger fucks me, which makes him hard again, where he likes to maturbate while his fingers are in my pussy…cums on my thigh aging, rolls over a falls asleep.

Ho-hum.

Naked sexy woman silhouette lying at red orange background

I have managed to satisfy myself but this makes me crave a hard cock to suck, lick and knead with my teeth. Going down on it, taking it all in my mouth, tickling my throats with the soft head, licking the balls making my pussy so wet… When I have my fresh Brazilian wax my vulva throbs for a tongue, my anus aches for hot cum to ooze out, meaning I am fulfilled and he is exhausted.

I want to be naughty with a man’s cock in my pussy and a woman sitting on my face. 

I need to be honest leave De-Nile, leave him and get back to my life. The hell with what I should be at the stage of life.

 

Addieg.blog@gmail.com

A hot shower & a cup of hot tea…Done!

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It’s been a sometimes fun but often grueling experience. I’m happy it’s over and hope not to travel this road ever again.

To my editors; You will have to provide me with a much larger incentive if you ever want this kind of information again.  I took many showers during these past several weeks and drank my share of vino just to get through it.      bottle-wine

 

For the love of what the fuck! Six months ago I agreed to enter into the world of online dating for the second time. It’s a jungle out there, a girl has to be smart and willing to take on another life, especially if it’s all fake for information purposes. The facts aren’t often pretty and these are no exception. I’ll randomly go through the last six months of the revolving door of men and women. Some info will be limited due to copy-rights and my editors blowing up regarding my blogging on the subject. It’s enough to share, enough to…well just read on-in no particular order.

I’ll begin with Ken (btw all names are fiction-yes they gave me actual names, phone numbers and much more)…Ken, the Scorpio, introverted, former NAVY, works as civil employee, lived in a moderate neighborhood, divorced, one child-freshmen year in college.  He liked to cook and it showed. Not very outdoorsy and it showed. Spent his weekends watching old movies that he’d seen a few times, liked to play board games. He came off as gruff, not a very happy person who wanted to get laid but didn’t want to put in the effort to accomplish this.  He wanted to exchange sexy emails with me doing all the sex talk.  When I called him out on meeting, after a few weeks of pulling sexy talk from him, he gave me the story that he’d had a bad experience and was hesitant about meeting. At which point he asked for more photos. Seriously? I’ve sent you 3 and now you want more?  Oh and if I could send a nude one he’d like that.

A shower and a bottle of wine cleansed me from this lazy jerk, who I suspect was jerking off to the photos and the emails. He was cut off…spam.

Meanwhile, back at rancho online creep-o!  There was grandpa, the Leo. He had no online photo, came off like this sweet, subservient guy who only wanted to please. It was “dear” this “dear” that and whatever pleases you dear, oh I’m sorry dear, was I being, too forward dear, whatever you say dear…I’m suck a dumbass dear, I should have known better, I hope I haven’t blown it with you. This was Don. Supposedly a professional guy with an office, married but not getting any-had not had any in a very long time. He begged for a photo for about 10 days, when he finally got the message that I wasn’t sending jack shit until I got one from him, he sends a photo of him sitting in a lawn chair with a 6-year-old on his lap (his grandson).  WTF!  What kind of man sends a prospective piece of ass a photo of his grandchild?  Was this for browny points? Or was it to cover the belly and the dick-dew?  He begged for my phone number so he could text. Okay, here you go, here’s my burner.  And then it was a constant barrage of sexting all day through early evening then a pause and would start-up again around 10 and last until midnight.  The pause was when he was home and the wifey-poo was up, but as soon as she’d gone to bed he’d start again.  I finally laid down the law, the day I was in some very important meetings and had to turn my phone off because he was sexting every 30 minutes.  The day I met him, he almost stained his trousers. He even wanted some PDA, that I squashed!!  Seriously?  You think I’m going to make out with you right here in the middle of a parking lot?  And please don’t follow me, I’m not, too keen on you seeing what I drive…to which I walked him to his car, saw him off before heading to the steps to my vehicle 2 levels above (where I parked purposefully).

Don’s admission that his big office was actually a suite in a not so nice part of town, having just purchased a new sofa for his “office”, wanted me to stop by his new office…WAIT! NEW OFFICE?  So, this location you’ve just moved in to? And your assistant is actually your wife, who works there on the weekends? Oh, I see! The only time you can get away is during the day? Evenings are tough to get out, but if I don’t want to have sexy time in his “office” we can go to his house, his wife is a ride share, once she leaves for work (25 plus mile away) she’s gone for the day. NO. NO thanks. No not going to your wife’s house to have sex with you!

Meanwhile. The college professor who was actually an instructor, he and the wife enjoyed playtime a few of the local clubs that hosted gatherings for couples swapping. They sent numerous photos of her in flimsy lingerie. He was contact person, never heard from her and all he wanted to tell me about was what he had.  Hmmmm! No thanks! When I asked him about his wife, if she and I could exchange communications, I was promptly told that he did the talking for both of them. Okay…

Then there was Greg. Older fella. Said he was a retired consultant. Sent me two photos that were either several years old or they were photo-shopped from a magazine. In one he’s wearing a tux holding a highball glass, not looking into the camera, the other the man is wearing a very nice custom grey suit standing in front of a grey Porsche that has a Delta emblem on it…which is on the tarmac. When I saw this photo I took another look at the first one…something wasn’t fitting, just looked, too perfect.  I called him out on the photos but not to my surprise did he acknowledge or deny-completely ignore my query. And again, he could only get away during the day, he worked from home, when he wasn’t traveling of course, nights and weekends were tough to get away. I set a meet, waited until the morning of and gave him an out. He jumped on it and has later asked if we could really get together?  His take was meet during the day, have wine and then sex.  Ha, ha, ha, ha!!!  LMAO!  I questioned him; So, you can’t get out at night or weekends, you travel to all these places, stay in these 5 star hotels, yet you want me to meet you during the day, drink wine – have sex…and it’s okay for you to go home reeking of wine and stale pussy?  He didn’t respond to that query either.  I concluded that Greg was lying and probably retired, bored sitting home watch game shows and cop repeats.

The one thing they all had in common. Once I mentioned I like giving head, they were all in! Would do whatever it took to get me in a room, an office, a car, behind a bar…I guess older guys or any guy for that matter doesn’t get much head from the wifey-poo! I don’t get that. Why women don’t give their husbands head!!!

And lastly. I mentioned several weeks ago that there was one guy who was slicker than grease. I came off like the discard women, who’d been wronged.  Well, actually no, I wasn’t. This guy, was a smartass, or at least he thought he was.  Sent photos that I, once suspect were old photos and he was much older than he claimed. It was something he responded to that brought this to light and from that it was decided that I would take this route. In his arrogance, he admitted to knowing my identity, my blog, my overseas column.  He’d taken the time to “look me up” in a detailed way.  He’s also, my opinion somewhat of a racist and I don’t use that word often or lightly.  He, as we suspected could have been dangerous and we decided to do something about it.  A dual online profile, using a photo from a shoot that we had permission to use and dangled the cord by putting in all the key words that would get his attention. POP! He did, as he followed the same pattern of photos that he’d sent me originally and asking for my number to text. I took on an entirely different persona and he bought it.  He wanted to meet, was coming to town (we suspect he lived in town), dinner (it always had to be at a nice place), I told what I would be wearing, he told me what he’d be wearing. WE went sat in the parking lot and sure enough there he was…just as I had suspected!  Of course Morgan didn’t show. He texted many times, even wondered if she was okay. His final text was sad, regretful and he sent an empty email to see if the email was still there. The profile on the site was remove 15 minutes prior to the meeting time. Karma is a bitch Bugsy. Fire hot! Burn!

Most men on sites want a little excitement in their lives. I get that. Most of the married women on the sites are seeking the same. Gents, if she’s not your cup of tea, move the fuck on…there are, too many women in the fish bowl to play games. Wives, give your man a blow job! You don’t have to swallow!

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Shower and a hot cup of tea for me!

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Thank you loyal readers.

addieg.blog@gmail.com

 

A quick snapshot

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I’ve been asked by many, what I do? I write for a publishing house who wouldn’t want me to divulge their brand.  My blog began as a way of self expression, later morphing into a combination of readers who write to me and my experiences. I’ve written many articles that are  proof read by editors and their assistants, thus my blogs contains errors galore, but I think that gives it a homey, believable feel.  I’m currently working on a novel. Because of your inquires I’ve decided to share one snippet with you. I’ve chosen this page because…well I’ll let you see for yourself.  I’ll be back in a few with more adventures from the world of internet dalliances, fornication and hookups (fall has been fruitful).  Until then enjoy the snippet…

The cool air moving across Amanda’s face was a welcomed relief, compared to the sweat rolling down her arms. She pedaled at moderate pace, with slow deliberate breaths. The path was dimly lit, flat and smooth, against the dark back drop of the park. The tall trees were a canopy, shielding the night sky. She made good time creating distance between her and the house she fled. She pedaled faster.

She attempted to adjust her ball cap. The bike began to wobble as she realized her hands, her legs were trembling and her heart was pounding loudly in her ears. With a deep breath Amanda steadied herself, adjusted the cap tighter. With more control she pedaled forward.

Amanda dared not look behind her fearing she would slow her progress. Just ahead she could see the red glow as it came into view. The first of three traffic signals. Not wanting to decrease her speed, she willed the light to turn green as she drew closer to the intersection. Just as she began to coast, the light signaled green, as she glided effortlessly across the brightly lit intersection that was miraculously void of vehicles.
The bike path took a western route, Amanda veered north, deciding the confines of the sidewalk would be better than the street, using the parked cars as a buffer to any oncoming traffic. It slowed her pace a little. The black hat, jacket and pants made her almost invisible to the traffic on the street, as she calmly breezed through intersections two and three.

Eager to proceed to her next phase. Hopping off the bike at a running pace, she quickly steered it into the tall bushes of an abandon house. Behind the over grown thicket of brush laid her backpack. She quickly began to strip, putting each article of clothing, and shoes, in a separate plastic bag, she had retrieved from the pack. Standing naked and cold, she removed the gun from the pouch on the bike, put it in a cloth bag and the pouch in a plastic bag. Finally removing her leather gloves, carefully folding them inside out, adding them to the plastic bag with the pouch. Taking fresh garments from the backpack, she checked the watched in her pants pocket. She would need to move quickly to discard the bags before boarding the bus back to the city.      ©️ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

..

Addie

Falling into Change – Fate

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It is the first day of fall. Things began to change. Green becomes yellow, orange, gold. Days become shorter. Evenings become cloaked in darkness. The warm begins to chill, unless you’re below the equator-then don’t read this part skip over it, doesn’t apply to you.  And you, the ONE who thinks this is going to be about him. No…no Bugsy, this ain’t about you, so carry your sorrow ass on back to being a putain d’homme.  You will know when it’s your turn…big bold letters I promise <giggling>. 

I’ve mentioned my private parties, the shenanigans, the fun.  I’ve mostly attended these soiree with a friend as a plus one or gone alone. Which by the way drives men wild for some reason. An unattached woman entering a partie de sexe gets them drooling.  Well, I met this guy. Funny thing about how we met. I was stood up by a cad (I know Bugsy, it’s not about you, I’m merely making a point-chill!) decided to go out and have dinner, since I had nothing else to do. I’m sitting at the bar, sipping on a beer that the bartender had put in the ice maker just for me.  This gentleman walks in, he looks forlorn, asks the bartender whatcha got in a bottle, he looks at me and says; “I’ll have what she’s having.”  I tell the bartender to give the other bottle he’d slipped in the ice and put another in for me. This guy looks like he needs it.

We talk about the impending days of predicted rain, wonder if we’re really in for a monsoon, it’s already pouring rain (I love valet parking when the weather is nasty).  And he opens his heart to me. He’s been away, come home to an empty house, the girlfriend has up and left. All she left him was the bed, a set of sheets, his clothes, a coffee maker and a cup.  She left him a voice mail, timed to when she thought his plane would land and him headed home-his house by the way.

Here we sit. The noise level has risen as more patrons enter for that after work respite. He turns to me and asks; “Would you like to get a booth? I’d love to buy you dinner and a bottle of wine, maybe?”                         Why not?! I’ve been stood up at the eleventh hour by a cowardly putain d’homie, who lacked manners and maturity. (Bugsy are you still reading? I’m flattered!)  We are seated by the hostess at the bartenders request, a great booth, somewhat secluded, very little crowd noise.  I order lite, I don’t have much of an appetite, we end up sharing a couple of heavy appetizers, me another  beer and he a top shelf scotch.  To my surprise he doesn’t continue to lament about the missing girlfriend, the contents of his home, he’s truly grateful that his beloved dog was being boarded and not left alone.  Awww!  What a nice guy!

The rain continues, we talk about everything from politics to religion and to my view of Americans who are so hung up on monogamy.  When he tells that he and the missing girlfriend attended a few parties of the swing-swap type and ventured to a club in Atlanta.  At that moment, I think I stopped breathing for at least 20 seconds ,my heart beat increased to a rapid pace, my eyes must have glazed over or something and my cheeks a sweet shade of red. “What?”  He asked. And begins to apologize because he thinks he’s offended me!  (okay y’all stop your laughing-you know me, he doesn’t or he didn’t).  Once I regained my breathe, my rate returned to normal, I took a long sip from my bottle, sat it down, looked up at him, focused my eyes on those greenish gray, long lashed dreamy eyes of his and said; “My membership is still valid, doesn’t expire until January 2017.”                                                                                                                                 I could actually see his pupils move to refocus. He reach out his hand out across the table indicating that I give him mine. I did. He held my hand very tender like, almost endearing, it was kinda strange at first. Then he said, without so much a blink or taking a breathe; “I knew you were special when I entered the bar. You’ve been there? You’ve been there more than once?”  Yes, yes and I added another yes just in case I’d missed a question, because by now, I’m beginning to realize that even though a few hours ago I was mistreated by someone I thought was a gentleman, an earnest person who wouldn’t waste a lady’s time with a bunch of bullshit, who had lied about his age (yes Bugsy you did-you so much as admitted you’d lied about being younger, but I suspect you’re much older than you said-much older-your barge of photos-the periobital puffiness were signs you’re trying to be something you’re not), wasted my time for weeks, it was all for this, this moment of he and I sitting in this booth discovering that we liked the club in Atlanta. That we had a lot in common. And that he, had an invite to a party this weekend to celebrate the change of the season, that he was going to send his regrets even before he’d return home to find the girlfriend gone, his furniture, cooking utensils and all gone.

It took us moment or two gather our senses. We sat in silent for a long time. The waiter came over broke the silence, asked if we’d like another drink. He quickly responded;  “Yes, we’d like a glass of house champagne. We have to toast our meeting, this was fate at it’s finest. We were meant to meet.”                                                                                           I told him all about Bugsy, how we’d met, all the bullshit and the way he’d sloughed it off earlier, this was one of the places I’d suggested that we meet and when I’d thrown in his room, just to see…how he’d jumped right on the number 3 choice.  He listened and I listened.  We  toasted with our champagne flutes, he took out his phone, entered a text and said;                                                                                                                              “We have just excepted the invite this weekend, it won’t interfere with your charity event, we can leave after you’re finished, I’ll drive, but if you’re not comfortable without your car, you can follow me and I’ll book 2 rooms for our stay.  I want us to be FWB for a long time, I’ve waited for you forever and I’m very happy this evening has finally arrived.”

We walked through to the bar and thanked him(bartender) . We waited in the  alcove for the valet to bring our cars. His came first and he refused to leave me standing there. He waited for my car to arrive, walked into the rain held the door and said; “May I text you later, to say good night?”  I agreed by nodding, because I’m not sure if I’m dreaming. The last thing I want to do right now is wake up.  But i wasn’t. We’re getting to know each other and it’s great! The weekend is going to be a good one.  Fate. 

Thanks Bugsy!

Thank you all for reading and your wonderful emails!

XoX                                                                                                                                                                         Addieg             adding.blog@gmail.com

Forging Ahead. It’s Never Easy

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the-residences

I’m inspired by a few things. I am on the high floor of a magnificent hotel with a fantastic view,  no sounds except the clapping of my keyboard.  The bed was, is beyond dreamy, the pillows sofa yet comfortable. Arriving late last night with my Coterie, we sat and enjoyed a few lagers before retiring.  With the street noise so far below I am transcended into melancholy of the past weeks. I’ve been trying with all my wit to forge a new relationship of sorts, although unconventional to the average Joe, I like doing things that are against the norm.

I’ve been open-minded, yielding, extremely giving-maybe, too giving.

 If you don’t look like an adonis, why are you being so picky??? For Pete’s Sake!!  You don’t run, you don’t walk, you don’t golf, you don’t play tennis…you play board games, watch movies and eat a lot of red meat!!!  That takes a toll on one’s physique, not to mention other unmentionable parts.  So I’m not a WF, I’m a mix of many parts, some may so exoctic. I was guileless, did not hide it! Why are you being an asshole?  First you want to known what my likes and dislikes are-reason being, still not sure…for the sake of conversation; So he won’t say or do the wrong thing.  Seriously?  Life is ebb and flow!  You be who you are, not hide behind some bullshit of meaningless crap because…If I could figure that out we’d be an item by now, I suppose.  This being his transcript (not mine); he’s divorced, spends a lot of time at home, watching tv, cooking, watching tv, drinking beer, watching tv and he’s ready to find someone, to start living.   Need I state the obvious here??  I’m still kicking myself for being drawn to this…this person. I sent 3 photos, all different to show my versatility and he wasn’t satisfied with those.

“Wow, they all look different! Is this 3 different people? Do you have anymore I can look at?” 

Ah, no I do not.  WTF!?  I could have easily said; Look you aren’t the most handsome guy I’ve met, you’re not the most unattractive one either, but I thought you were a nice guy and I was looking for nice, not handsome, not over the moon knock-out gorgeous.  I’m willing to bet there’s not a six or an eight pack under that t-shirt and bulky coat (in the photo you sent to me).  BUT what I did say;  I think we’ve come to an impasse.  Why don’t you mull the photos over for a few days and get back to me. His subsequent correspondence has been directed to the TRASH BIN.

I move on…A week remaining before my trip to the outskirts of the Big Apple with my Cortier,  I give it one more go.  If you fall off the horse, you’ve got to get your bum up, dust it off and get back on!  Right?

Which brings me to the “PROFESSOR!  Not that he was or is a professor. He struck me as such when I ventured out to meet him, after several correspondences.  Much older than he had claimed. Okay, so he used an old photo, we all do that from time to time.  But the person I’d corresponded with was not the person I met at the coffee cafe.  Grouchy about having lost his life. Was having an affair (she was Japanese, married with 2 children), they fell in love, she went home to get divorced but decided not to return…Meanwhile, he divorces his wife, she takes him to the cleaners (can you blame her?) alimony-child support and in the interim he’s laid off from his executive position, ate his nest egg keeping up the spousal support, etcetera, etectera, etectera…I took time from my busy day for this?  TMI!!!  He works from his apartment, that was a condo when we first began to correspond.  His voluntary inventory of said apartment: a lounge chair, his work station, computer, etc., (and my personal favorite) a traditional Japanese futon (mat).  Yep!  That’s not a typo…a mat. If you know anything about Asian culture, you know a mat means just that! M-A-T, no elevation as in the western world. I was so stunned by the mat, it took a few minutes for the lack of other items that weren’t included in the inventory.  Okay. So, you’re thinking we’re going to spend our time at my house?  Seriously!  NO!         I waited a few minutes, made small talk about the weather, about stuff in general, finish my espresso drink, looked at my watch and said;        “This has been just wonderful! I’ve enjoyed our conversation, you seem like a special guy, but I do need to head out, I’ve got more work facing me before I end my day. We’ll talk soon.”

“What’s your phone number, I can send you mine and we can keep in touch by text. Email is so impersonal, don’t you think?  Besides, I’d like to call you and wish you sweet dreams at night and maybe end it with some tantalizing conversation, if you know what I mean.” <grinning his ass off>

Oh my! He’s got a plan and I’m it!  I smile my best flight attendant smile, position my voice to sooth and I reply; Well, I hardly know you. We haven’t been emailing that long and we just met this one time today. Let’s see how it goes, I can always give it to you in a couple of days.        He was not happy. But he had no choice in the matter.  Subsequent emails have found their way to the TRASH BIN.

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As I sit and enjoy the view, I remind myself that as difficult as it may seem, the universe will come full circle and I’ll once again find that special someone. But for now, enjoy the comradely with your coterie, the city, the food, the OPEN…

Dating in the first century of the 3rd millennium has its challenges. Be smart. Set limits. Avoid the cyrano-syndrome.

Thanks for being a loyal fan.                                                                                                                          Addison       addieg.blog@gmail.com

anniversary-2xCelebrating multiple years blogging

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You Can’t Go Back…

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hyatt-regency-jacksonville

Ever want something from the past to come back and be the same, you damn well know it ain’t gonna happen. As much as you want it, you know there’s no way this is going to have a happy ending. Fairy tales are in children’s books, romance novels and the movies.

Don’t cry for me…(yeah that’s a song-it fits really well here). I’m a big girl and I walked into the place, for lunch, knowing full well life moves on, shit changes, people change-nothing stands still. Time makes change as it moves through the universe. My bad, a girl can dream…then you wake up! Hopefully when you do wake, you’re in your own bed in familiar surroundings.  Not in a crowed posh restaurant, dressed Saturday casual sheik, tanned with sun-kissed highlighted hair, braided perfectly to the side.  You could care less what I looked like, a lot of forethought and care went into looking just right…but I’ll get on with the events.

I followed the hostess through the maze of tables filled with equally poshly dressed diners. Making eye contact with several as I wound my way to the rear of the room toward the large windows that overlook the  St John River. I lost my balance, the room took on a dim hue, when he stood to greet me. Oh my goodness! Shut the front door! This could not be the man I worship, that I would arrange my flights (flight attendant) to coincide with his days off – a major player as a Detective for the local law enforcement, former Marine MP.  No freakin’ way!   We use to get up at the crack of dawn (I still do by the way) to run many miles before the sunrise over the Atlantic.  He was full cop, full ex Marine and a fantastic lover…more on that in a moment.

How can I put this nicely?  On dating websites when they ask about your body the choices are; in shape, athletic, nicely toned, a few pounds…Let’s go with the latter. I knew it was him, without a doubt, the blue eyes, the smile, the haircut (still Marine style) and the voice-his voice always a turn on for me.  I loved this man like I’ve loved no other! He called, the voice was so familar…I was going to be in town 2 weeks later. Why not? He’s newly divorced!  I got excited! I mean really excited! Over the following 2 weeks leading up to my visit (business in town), I recalled all the wonderful moments…there were many and there were some not so wonderful moments.

I composed myself and greeted him with European pecks on both cheeks, avoiding his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see my astonishment. I sat, made lots of small talk hoping to avoid the enviable conversation about reconnecting.  All the while sitting and wondering behind my perfect flight attendant smile, what had happened to my guy to let himself go and go so far from the man who was?  Coffee after a wonderful salad with an excellent piece of salmon, it was hard to hold back the tears. It wasn’t because he lacked the washboard abs…he was a tyrant when we were together about eating, drinking and in general a health nut!  Then conversation fell on us…the us of yesterday.  How do you tell a man you loved so completely that you’re worlds apart today?

I had a key to his condo on the river. I’d helped him buy the furniture, purchased pieces for his birthday and Christmas. I surprised him with a new mattress set, custom-made, because of his height and his bedroom would be cramped with a king bed. It was a significant moment in our relationship. For the first time I considered becoming a wife.  Big step for moi!!!   My flight schedule was changed mid day. I was in Chicago and there was a flight at the jet way, being boarded and headed to his city.  I waited with bated breath, hoping for one open seat…I thought my luck was with me that day. I landed, caught a cab to his place, saw his work car in his parking spot. I was so excited, I ran to the main door and quickly to the condo door. As I put the key in the knob I could hear music playing-my French themed, sexy music I loved to play. I walked in and my heart sank…on the floor were a pair of ladies heels, a skirt, his shoes, the jacket I’d given him for his birthday…on the coffee table were two coke cans, a half eaten pizza…none of things he and I would ever eat or he’d allow us to eat! I followed the hall to the rear, the door wide open to the master bedroom and there on the bed were he and her having sex, her on top, just bopping away…I told there waited to see how long it would take for him to notice another person standing in the door way, Mr. A-1 Detective.  While I stood there frozen in time, that seemed like an eternity, it wasn’t what I saw that broke my heart, causing it to bleed. It was what I heard that made me want to throw up. His love for her and him saying all the same things to her, he would say to me while we made love, which later I felt was just a fuck.  I turned left the room, headed to the other bathroom and threw up, careful not to soil my uniform. When I’d emptied my gut, I flushed the toilet and began running the sink water to wash my face and gargle. That got their attention.  I thought it would…as I spit the mouth wash into the toilet and began to flush for the second time, he appeared in the  doorway with a pair of swimming trunks that I had arbitrarily purchased, just because…His first words, well actually his several words were; this isn’t what it looked like, I know this looks bad, I can explain, I didn’t expect you and my personal favorite; “Why are you here so early? I didn’t expect you until tomorrow morning. I had a great welcome home planned for you. Now you’ve ruined the surprise I had planned!”  I’m sorry!  I went from zero to 100 in less than one second…It’s a blur after that…I rememeber grabbing my wheeled bag and walking out the door. I walked a couple of blocks from the building stopped and called a cab…airport crew lounge was my refuge for a few hours…I caught a flight back to my home base. Turned my phone off for 2 days. Got another phone with a second number, gave that to the airline, family and friends with a story that I was getting harassing calls-my cop friend suggested I just get a new number.

This was the first time we’d seen each other since that day-yes years have passed. I heard from a mutual friend he’d married her, she moved into the condo-no kids. And as he told me his martial gruesome story, she’d screwed around on him, with a few guys and she wasn’t shy about or discreet about it. He’d become depressed, because divorcing her would suck the life out of his saving, possibly his pension, his condo, his rental properties…so he stayed in the marriage, let himself go…was promoted to captain and now thinking about retiring to the Keys. He was renting a place down at the ocean, no longer in quaint area we once ran through those dark mornings, ate at the sidewalk diners, enjoyed life as a handsome couple (that’s what people would stop us to say).

No. It wasn’t working for me now, but I could see he was willing. I took a deep breath and I simply said: ‘I don’t think we can go back. There’s too much baggage, it would only weigh us down–weigh you down.’  He reluctantly agreed. We fielded our way through the tables, less diners, less chatter, it was a 2 hour lunch. As I waited for the valet to bring my car, he turned, hugged me, kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear; “You will always be the love of my life, I’m sorry I hurt you, everything after that day that’s happened to me I deserved. You look like a million bucks and whoever the man in your life is, he’s a very lucky guy-hope he appreciates you and loves you as you should be loved.”  He turned and walked away…he didn’t look back. My heart hurt, because I man I loved so much was gone forever, even though I’d just had lunch with his spirit.

Life’s a bitch!  But life goes on…

Thanks for being a loyal reader.  Personal comments and questions are always welcomed. addieg.blog@gmail.com

❤ Addie