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Posts Tagged ‘love’

I give people the benefit of the doubt more often than I should. I don’t know why but I’d rather be too trusting, believe the best of people, than to assume the worst and be shown better later. Naive? Maybe. Better for my spirit? I don’t know. Seems I believe in people I shouldn’t, people who are deliberately dishonest, far too often than my fragile heart can handle.

I am also one of those people who jumps heart first into relationships. If I like you, I’ll tell you. If I want you, I’ll tell you. If you make my panties wet, I will tell you that too. If I love you, I will without a doubt tell you. I see no reason in holding back. Why should I? Why should anyone?

I told a girlfriend of mine the other day that I would rather have my heart broken a million times than to never love at all. It’s true. There is a line in a song that says, “I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all.” And another song that says, “I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance.” If we don’t put ourselves out there we will never find love and happiness. If we aren’t willing to risk getting hurt we will never find love. If we spend our time trying to keep ourselves from pain and heartache we will miss out on a whole lot of wonderful experiences.

What I need to do is stop putting my everything into something that isn’t right, with someone who doesn’t love me like I love them. The problem is they say the right things and do the right things until one day when I suddenly realize it was just an act or some kind of twisted game and the joke’s on me. I can be a downright fool at times. Especially when it comes to men.

I give chances time and again and still end up in the same spot. No more second chances, and sure as hell no more third chances, because I learned today that nothing you can say or do will ever change the fact of how hurt and broken I became following your actions and lies. Me believing you let me live without pain. It let me have hope. Finding out it was all lies hurt more today than the hell I went through when you disappeared last year. It hurt more because I had hope this time, because I told you I loved you and I meant it.

If I ask you something straight up and you lie to me, I’m done. If you can’t follow your words with corresponding actions, I’m done. Simple. I can’t keep getting my heart broken by a man who does not deserve my heart and my love.

I sit here writing this with tears in my eyes and a hole in my heart that had once been filled with hopes and dreams of a life with you. A hole I never knew was there until it had been filled.

I won’t stop loving or caring for people. I won’t stop jumping in and giving everything I have. I won’t stop believing in people. I just can’t believe in you any longer. I am not your Babydoll. I am not your Pet. You, are not MySir.

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I believe we are capable of loving more than one person at a time and having committed relationships with each of them. As with any relationship though, the key to making it work is open and honest communication with everyone. You can have a primary partner, many would have a legal spouse with another committed relationship or relationships, but you have to be honest and forthcoming with each of them. There’s no other way.

Jealousy should never be a problem. When you realize that you are all important parts of the whole, that you are not more or less than any other, that loving one someone else doesn’t take away from the love that they have for you, jealousy becomes a non issue.

It was described to me this way once. A couple has a child. That child is loved and cared for by her parents. Everything is wonderful. Then the couple has more children. Each child is loved and cared for by their parents. Everything is still wonderful. We can have intimate relationships like this as well. We already have friendships like this don’t we? We each have more than one friend that is there for us when we need them, that we care about and support in their life as well. Why should that be different when the relationship is that of lover rather than that of friend? Your lovers should be your friends. If they aren’t they won’t last.

Somebody else tried to put it to me something like this… He said that over the years he has played, without the sex component, with many women. During a scene he would often time become excited and turned on but would never move on to something sexual because he was in a committed relationship. To him, being poly meant that he could continue the play with sex if they both wanted to. If you know anything about polyamorous relationships you know that what he described isn’t poly, it is an open relationship. Putting the term poly on it for him made it seem ok, even though it IS NOT POLY.

Another non-poly lifestyle that people try to lump in with it is swinging. Being swingers is not being poly. You can be in polyamorous relationships and swing with your partners, but that is an addition to not an included with and still, every partner needs to be aware and supportive of the swinging. Not everything in life needs to be, or can be, made into some super sized combo where every side that is available is added.

Many people jump on the polyamorous bandwagon because they think it is a free pass to fuck around with whomever they want, whenever they want. That is not what poly is. If you are in a relationship and going behind your partners back to have sexual relations with other people you are not being polyamorous, you are cheating. If she knows about it and supports you in your extracurricular activities it is an open relationship, but still not poly.

Forcing your partner, or partners, to do things they don’t want to do or to accept things they aren’t comfortable with is abuse regardless of what label you put on it.

Polyamory is about more than sex, it is about relationships, and not just your relationships with your partners but also their relationships with each other. It all has to work and it takes a lot of work to build and maintain those relationships. It is about supporting each other, loving each other, no matter what. As with any relationship your sex life will have its ebbs and flows. Love is the reason people have polyamorous relationships, not sex. Love is not sex. Sex is not love. (I’m sure you knew that already but it had to be said.)


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I’ve been thinking about a part if my life I lived many moons ago. The memories sometimes feeling like they happened to another person in another time, sometimes feeling like I lived them just yesterday. The only thing for certain is that I am reminded of them nearly every day. This picture was taken on my way home from picking up my son after work on Thursday. I see it every morning I drop him off at daycare and every evening when I pick him up. Just a tree. Nothing special. Except, it is very special to me and it will be gone soon.

My first love grew up in the house right across the street from this tree. The first time I made love was to him, in that house. I went to tell him I loved him in that house. When I couldn’t deny it any longer, when I had to tell him or I’d burst. I was 17. I thought we’d make love again. We didn’t. Instead, he told me that he had met someone else and it was over with me. I never got to tell him that I loved him. I was completely heartbroken. I left that house, practically ran out of it in tears. I made it across the street to this tree before I broke down, sitting on the ground leaning against this tree and sobbing. I don’t know how long I was there before someone came to take me home. The sun had fallen and shadows crept across the grounds. It seemed the world had shifted, that it had become as sad and gloomy as I.

The person who helped pick me up and get me home was his father. A wonderful man. He passed away on Thursday. Maybe that’s why I stopped when passing this tree, remembering not just the heartbreak I felt at that moment in time but also the kindness of a man who barely knew me then but who would come to mean very much to me in the years that followed. Tomorrow we will celebrate his life and put him to rest. Then on Monday I will watch as the city removes this broken tree, leaving another void that will never be the same.

 

A different kind of sinful for a different kind of Sunday.

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Looking around she was saddened to see how barren the land had become. Over the years she had watched as the lush, dense forest slowly retreated around them. There had once been a forest full of trees just like her and her steadfast companion. They had grown together, the two of them, to become as one.

There was a young boy in the farmhouse across the street who, for a long time, thought they were one tree. From his vantage he wasn’t able to decipher their two trunks or which limbs belonged to each of them. One day, shortly after starting school in town, he had walked down his lane to catch the bus. He was early. Too early to just sit and wait for the bus. Besides, he was a young boy and that meant staying still often took much more effort than he could muster all on his own. He dropped his bag to the ground then walked across the main road to climb the big tree. He was surprised to find that the big tree was really two separate trees that had been growing closely together. He stopped in his tracks and looked up at the trees, not quite believing what he was seeing. While he stood there, mouth open in aw, the bus arrived and took him off to school.

That was many moons ago. That young boy had grown up and had a family of his own. Those children had also grown up and had children of their own, along with another two generations. That young boy passed away, it that farmhouse across the street, a dozen years ago. He was 93, a great-great-grandfather. Mother nature mourned his passing along with his family and friends. Her tears fell from the heavens, soaking everything, flooding the farmhouse basement. They young boy, who was in actuality not a young boy, had been the last resident of the farmhouse. Everyone stopped visiting after he had passed. They abandoned the derelict old farmhouse and left it to rot.

She had been so saddened by this herself, the passing of the young boy and the abandonment of the farm. Nothing was really the same after that and now other things were changing. She had stood strong all these years, bending with the winds but never breaking. She had grown a great display of branches and produced what one could consider generations of leaves. Now she was nearing her end of existence.

Her steadfast companion was no longer. He had succumbed to a slow and terrible death after being struck by lightning and loosing one of his large major branches. He had always been there with her, side by side, shielding her from the brutal northern winds. He was no longer able to protect her and there were no other trees around to help fill that void and need in her life. Because of this, she too was dying. Just as the young boy had passed, she too was dying from old age and loneliness. It was merely a matter of time.

 

 

 

This week Marie asked us to write from the point of view of the last tree standing in the forest. This is what came to my mind. The picture above is of what I call my trees. This pair of trees sits in the middle of a field that I pass when driving to or from the cottage. I am always captivated by the beauty of nature and the way these two trees look like one large tree from the right angle. I took this picture, showing the two distinct and separate trees, to remind me of how well two people who compliment each other in the right ways can bring out a beauty in each other that you can not see otherwise. It also shows how two people can me thought of as one when in a relationship.


Clink the link below to read other’s takes on the challenge.



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Like A Statue

“I’ll instill stillness in you, like a statue. In this way maybe you’ll come to love me – slowly.”
~ Jarod Kintz, Love quotes for the ages

 

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Sinful Sunday

 

 

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Have you ever had an experience you were too naïve to understand or appreciate? So erotic, but you were too insecure to just let it be and embrace it? I relive the following experience in my head over and over again. It’s been 25 years, yet when I close my eyes I am transported back to that little bedroom with that amazing young man I was completely mad about yet unable to love the way he wanted and deserved. I’ve had this written for a while but couldn’t quite get the style of it the way I wanted. I didn’t want a poem or a long story so I was left with breaking the rules.

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Standing in the middle of a dark room,

nearly pitch black

and I can’t see a thing.

But I can feel him,

his breath against my neck,

his hands gently caressing me.

I tingle all over.

My breath grows shallow.

No words.

He stands in front of me.

Close enough for me to reach out and touch,

but I don’t dare.

The buttons on my blouse

slowly, ever so slowly,

come undone.

His hand glides across my shoulder

pushing my blouse off.

Next, the other shoulder

then he pulls the sleeves

one at a time

and lets it fall to the floor.

Gentle kisses on my neck,

my collarbone,

as his hands now move lower.

The pop of another button

precedes the sound of a zipper,

my zipper,

slowly going down.

Achingly slow.

I hear every catch of the zipper as he goes.

Two hands now move across my hips

down the back of my jeans

pushing them down,

past my behind,

down to my knees.

Lift, he says.

One foot,

then the next,

as my jeans join my blouse

on the floor.

His arms are around me now

tugging at the clasp

of my bra.

Easily unhooked

it is swept from my shoulders

and drops to the floor.

The pile of shed clothing grows.

He cups each breast,

squeezes

and kisses them tenderly.

My nipples ache for more

but I dare not ask.

I am a good girl,

I don’t do such things.

He kneels in front of me

and slips his hands

under the waistband of my panties.

His hands slide down my thighs

bringing the soft fabric with them.

Lift, he says again.

One foot,

then the other,

and I am naked.

He leans in now,

buries his head

between my legs.

I tremble

nervously,

yet completely turned on.

Soft moans escape

as his tongue makes contact.

Oh my!

Off his knees now,

he kisses me

before taking my hand

and walking me over to the bed.

He pulls the sheets back

and sits me down.

I hear the sounds of his clothes

now being removed

and left in their own

crumpled pile on the floor.

Gently,

tenderly,

he takes me.

 

 

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Good-bye?

Saying good-bye doesn’t mean good-bye forever.

Sometimes it’s just good-bye for now.

Sometimes it’s a good-bye to one dynamic so another can take its place.

Sometimes it is a good-bye forever though.

Not because we want to say good-bye.

Not because we don’t want that person in our lives.

But because we want the other person to be happy in whatever way that may be.

Because sometimes they need the good-bye more than they need the support.

It is about needs, not wants or desires.

It is about what will be best for each of you in the long term.

Saying good-bye doesn’t mean I don’t love you.

This time it means I love you more than I can possibly convey.

Good-bye, MySir.

For now,

But not forever.

 

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