Absent
I must apologize for my lack of posts recently, my computer has been on the fritz and trying to get access elsewhere is a challenge.
I feel absent in a lot of other ways as of late, as well. I generally feel very disconnected and feel myself falling into patterns and distancing myself from friendships that I have little reason to distance myself from. It’s not for feeling discontent, I am quite happy with the things around me and who I am. I don’t feel like I desperately need anything.
But still, I often feel misunderstood and frustrated with those around me. It’s getting very emo in here, I know, but stay with me because I’m sure I’ll snap out of it eventually.
Admittedly, a bit/almost a lot of these feelings center around Music Man drama. I requested a meeting with him that we might foster understanding, move beyond awkwardness and generally get ourselves on the same page about our friendship. At first he responded with what I know to be a true statement about his not having any time (he may be the hardest worker I happen to know and stays busier than I do) and asked what I wanted to talk about. I simply came back with another time I could make available to meet for an hour and a flippant remark about discussing Russian literature. Because, the whole point of meeting in person is to get real, honest reactions and not reveal everything through e-mail.
He has since failed to reply to that at all, fully aware of how much I find it rude when someone doesn’t at least acknowledge a message has been received (seriously, it pisses me off).
So now I find myself in the position of having to tell him to man up and give me what I need. If we were talking about sex I’d be more inclined to get to relay such a message quickly. But it’s not about mutual satisfaction, it’s about answering questions that are either real or imagined and having to be awkward once in hopes of not being awkward ever again. I don’t necessarily want to have such a conversation, but I as a mature person that finds honesty a valuble thing (outside of wishing I could have his hands all over me again, because, damn it was so good) know that I need to have the record set straight.
Details could make it easier to understand, but alas, you won’t be getting them because it would take a long time to explain him and I. I can say that I often think I’ve gotten over whatever feelings I might have for my Music Man only to discover later that my feelings (and fantasies) are drifting back in his direction. In fantasy-land I would just be smacking him upside the head and saying, “Really? How do you not see how amazing I am and how is it possible you aren’t falling all over yourself to be with me? You apparently have no idea what you are blinding yourself to.” And then he would be all, “Oh wow, you’re right. Forgive me, Maid, I can’t believe I never realized how perfect you are…let me make it up to you. I do want you, you’re everything I didn’t realize I needed.”
But this is not a fantasy and I really just want the reality of being known for who I am and not the person I was when I met him, a girl who was in a state of being completely destroyed from her most recent break-up. I just want honesty here in the real world.
And so I’m off to write an e-mail to demand I get what I need.
I am…
…all alone in the house.
…so comfy in my underwear and a tank top.
…”sipping” pinot noir.
…contemplating a movie choice.
…happy to be getting some rest after working/playing hard so much lately.
…satisfied with the homemade pizza in my tummy.
…wishing I could manage to get some male company out here…later.
…hoping Lola is having a lovely evening.
…tired.
…putting off asking Music Man for a chat (we’re awkwardly avoiding each other and we need to work it out).
…almost hoping I’ll cry later.
…debating making the cupcakes I half-planned to bake for my friends tomorrow…
…so amazing.
I Like To Try New Things
Me: I mean, I don’t think I’m that much of a freak, but I like a lot of scratching and biting. But I love when people are just themselves…you know?
Sir Hollywood: Would you be interested in going to a fetish ball? Would…
Me: Yeah…that would be fun.
Sir Hollywood: You have to get dressed up and you don’t have to do anything, and…
Me: Um, yes, that would be so much fun and I love it, let’s do it. That’s awesome.
Sir Hollywood: I’ll find out when the next one is and we’ll see if we can do it.
I have a very sly smile on my face right now.
And another quote from my very good friend, Sir Hollywood: I like to hear that my friends have had good sex, it’s almost as if I’ve had really good sex too…
Sob.
When most people say they need a good cry, it implies going home and sobbing into a pillow for…what? A half-hour?
I never say I need a good cry. And if I do need one, today it looks like it manages a time-frame of under five minutes.
My body wanted it. I shook some as I drove home, as my whole person shuddered with a need to release something inside of me. But, as always, my mind wouldn’t allow it. My mind demanded strength, demanded I keep it together, demanded I get over it.
Until I got home, closed the door, set down bags, and pretended I was going to get something from the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator door only to close it almost immediately when I couldn’t see through the hot tears dramatically welling up in my eyes. I couldn’t walk further than the living room, where I collapsed on the floor, stretched out, and let out the first sob.
But my mind still only allowed a few sobs to get through. The tears were unbearable and so stupid, worthless. What would someone say if they saw? How ugly it looked, how ridiculous I was being. Such a drama queen.
I still feel heavy, perhaps my body will win another battle later and silence my mind long enough to shed the stress it holds onto. Because my body is tired of holding it in.
Holding it all in.
How worn I feel from long hours of work, no matter how much I enjoy the job.
How it hurts to want him and him not want me, without even really knowing who I am. With years behind us and berating myself for not just getting over it, and frustration with him for not getting to know me even for the sake of friendship.
How I don’t ever want to be at home. It feels so oppressive, with all the history of things that I want to physically put behind me while they are, for the most part, emotionally behind me.
How tiring it is to play a part, rarely seeing someone look past the pulled-together exterior and compliment who I am. That being my fault, when I don’t want to be vulnerable with anyone.
My mind is still winning. It seems to have more stamina than my body, my body is quickly tiring. My mind and body need grace, and the mind is too proud to accept.
Caution: May be habit-forming.
The first time I kissed the Music Man was a couple years ago. It goes down as number one in the top five most memorable kisses I’ve enjoyed, with just the right amounts of anticipation, tenderness, and perfect hand placement. Firm hands that didn’t stray into zones inappropriate for a first kiss (I may be wildly inappropriate at times, but I am not easy…). Lips that knew what they were doing and caused me to literally go weak in the knees for the first time in my life, had I been standing I would have stumbled. We kissed again, and again, and would doze off only to wake up for more.
It went no further, but it was perfect. When the night was over I hoped to make it happen again, his lips were addictive.
But it didn’t work out. We’ve remained great friends, but never more. Distance, bad timing, you name it there was a reason we didn’t recreate any magic…until recently.
A couple weeks ago my friends and I decided that since it was my birthday, there should be a fun party that involved copious amounts of alcohol and dancing (OK, so maybe I was the driving force behind the chosen activities, but it was my birthday so I got the say-so). Music Man came out for the good times and when I realized I had never seen him drunk before, I set out to correct that and he obliged because my wish had to be his command on my day.
I don’t think either of us got all that drunk, but it led to some good times on the dance floor. I had never made out with someone so publicly, even though apparently none of our friends saw us. The party continued for us much later that night in his room…taking things further than ever and liking it. Music Man is still very good with his hands.
And that’s how it came to be that I found myself last night, a wee bit tipsy and texting him to demand his presence for my satisfaction (after a bit of flirtatious banter, of course). And after all was said and done, he left me wanting to make him my sex slave. I used to think my ex was good until Music Man showed me otherwise. Do I dare say he’s the best I’ve ever had, or is too soon and too cliché?
Hi, I’m Maid of Cheek and I am addicted to Music Man. But in a good way.
Awkward Shopping Moments
Between work and another thing today I stopped into the bookstore thinking I might find a little something I couldn’t live without (I love books, I should tell you). I hadn’t gone in bookstore in a while, actually, because I have such a tall stack of need-to-be-reads already.
So I was perusing the fiction area, checking out what was new and saw that Agent Provocateur has come out with two little collections of erotic fiction titled Confessions and Secrets respectively. I picked up Confessions and skimmed through it, decided it was something I could definitely use in the future and held onto it as I continued to look around.
I remembered I wanted to look for a certain CD (The Weepies, highly recommended), and yes I know I could probably find it much cheaper somewhere else but I figured if they had it I’d just get it to put an end to my search (and it wouldn’t allow me to forget). It was one of those places that lumps most music genres together in a way that is a little frustrating as the things you’re looking for are not Pop Rock at all, but since they wouldn’t end up in the Hip-Hop or Classical sections you have to search through the whole big one. The gentleman working there asked if he could help me and I told him what I was looking for, he found it in the computer and showed me to the teeny-tiny Folk section (which actually made sense) where he found it right away.
I started to walk towards the front of the store to go ahead and pay for my things when he said, “If you’re ready to check-out I can do that here.”
Now, this guy was a really nice, sweet person, but he could have been my dad. He was probably old enough to have a kid my age or at least in high school or something. Handing over my book of sexy stories made me cringe on the inside a little. I wasn’t so much embarrassed, and I managed to be nonchalant about the whole thing, but it was a little awkward.
If only it had been a really cute bookworm, I may have been able to look him in the eye and maybe even throw in a wink.
She Will Be Loved
I found out today that someone said some very hurtful things very publicly today about one of my best and truest friends. I was distressed to hear it, as there’s a whole situation behind it and even thought that situation is pretty awful I hate to see things taken to a place where this person feels the need to rip my friend, we’ll call her Lola from now on (hope she likes it), to pieces by preying on her insecurities and supposed flaws. It’s difficult when this other person is supposed to be a friend to me as well, but I feel our friendship is hindered by her failing to be honest with me and often dismissing my feelings and not listening to me.
So Lola had a bad day, and I hate that. I love her very much and don’t want her feeling bad about herself because someone took out their hurt and frustration in a poor fashion. Therefore, I am dedicating my post today to making sure she has a bright spot in her day and feels very, very loved — too loved even.
Dear Lola,
You are fantastic. I don’t know what I did to be blessed with the amazing friends that I have, and when I think on that you are one that I always count in that number. Even when I’m feeling a little jealous of how amazing you look (seriously, don’t lose any weight because I will appear even larger than I already do by comparison), I want to be around you and have fun with you.
You’ve made some mistakes and things have gone badly, but who hasn’t? You’ve handled it all so well and I hate to see other people continue to punish you for it because you’ve been punished enough, especially with the grace that you’ve found in your move to get past all of it. You don’t deserve to be hurt the way that you have. Don’t believe a single word anyone else breathes to the contrary.
You are talented and beautiful in so many ways. Your wit is tough to match and your grammar is impeccable. You are so loving and kind, I am so grateful that you always try to make sure I know you like me. You are gorgeous and sexy and I love that you share my appreciation for knowing how to work a pair of heels. You have such amazing passion and you always seem to know how to take a mess and turn it into something sunny. Your hospitality is something I’ve come to appreciate so much with how often I end up on your couch, and how readily you’ll share your wine. I love that you are so fiery and refuse to apologize for the person you are, your new independence has made that even fiercer and you seem to know yourself even better — making you even sexier somehow. It’s been great to see you like that, and so much easier to accept the terms it comes with that way.
I could go on, but I fear becoming repetitive. Just know that I find these and so many other things about you reason that it’s so easy to be around you and be your friend. They are reasons why I want to be your friend and reasons I am so happy to be your friend.
I don’t even remember how we first bonded or how we first started discovering how much we have in common, how alike we are. Was it as seamless as it now feels? I almost feel as if we were always meant to have each other and understand each other. I never feel ridiculous telling you about whatever is in my head, because I never feel judged or feel like you don’t care because it’s silly. I’m often amazed that you let me ramble on the way I do about the strange things going on in my brain. You never downplay my feelings, you always validate me and accept me for me.
Thank you for being the way you are, for being who you are. I will love you and be your friend no matter what happens to us and no matter what we do. I found this note I wrote about/to you in my journal the other day and I will leave you with it:
Just move to Europe with me and we’ll visit Paris, Prague, Venice, etc., on the weekends and live an idyllic, romantic life. Filled with adventures of our own making and laugh enough to make it the only reason we might cry. You and I, my dear, could live care-free if we were together and far away.
But I know as well as you it won’t fix anything. Perhaps we’d be happily, blissfully ignorant for a stay before we became restless and started looking for meaning or someone to care for and be loyal to of the opposite sex.
Just remember, my love, you and I will always need each other. I will need you, anyway. You and I being so parallel and fluid. I think we could clash and recover easily because with some exceptions we are the same and will understand each other forever. I know you because I know myself, in a way.
No one could wreak havoc with me the way you can. We’re the same kind of crazy, so we can communicate in the same language.
I love you fiercely and loyally, always.
Always,
Your Maid
Long day, Long Week Ahead
Am I drinking wine out of a coffee mug right now?
Yes, I am. Don’t judge.
Zebra is the New Black
For the longest time I have always relied heavily on my black underthings to be the sexy staple. Rarely, if ever, have I dallied into prints or bright colors for my bras. Many, many, many panties have been lacy, or intense colors, or sparkly, or what-have-you, but they have always complimented the black (perhaps with a little lace) bra.
Those were the sexy things. You remember 10 Things I Hate About You, don’t you? When they go through Kat’s room and find black panties and Bianca says it means she wants to have sex? I suppose that’s how I felt about it. I felt (and still feel) incredibly sexy in black underthings. How could you not?
I defy you to find a girl that doesn’t want to show off her black underwear…
To get back on track, today I bought the sexiest bra and panties I ever owned. They are not black. They are zebra print. Because zebra has always been by far my favorite print. It’s bold but pretty. Simple and chic, but manages to be daring and sexy.
It makes me want to show my stripes…
Me
In the spirit of this being the beginning, I figure you’ll want to know a little about me and I decided to use the ten questions from Inside the Actors Studio. Why? Well because it’s kind of fun that way.
What is your favorite word?
I love words, so choosing just one to be my favorite is difficult. We’ll say audacious (at least for today).
What is your least favorite word?
Girth. Anybody remember that hot dog commercial where the guy stood there by the grill and kept using girth and variations of it to describe the hot dogs? It was creepy and weird and I can’t handle that word anymore.
What turns you on?
Rainy days, great music (especially live great music), good conversation, dancing, fabulous heels, strong hands, the way breathing close to someone’s neck smells when you’re holding them tight, laughter, exploration…
What turns you off?
Being talked down to, not being listened to, being told what to do, scary movies, when people are hateful, intolerance, kitten heels and ugly shoes, beige…
What sound or noise do you love?
Laughter.
What sound or noise do you hate?
The garage door opening when I’ve been enjoying the place to myself.
What is your favorite curse word?
Fuck. In every form and conjugation, especially “fuckers.”
What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?
Trophy wife?
What profession would you not like to do?
Anything devoid of passion and creativity or that’s on that Dirty Jobs show.
If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?
Sweet! Now we can start the party! ;)
