Life, Love, Sex

Crossing the Atlantic

My one goal before I came to France was really to get laid here. I really couldn’t ignore that conquest.

(My goal once I got here was to drink more water and break my habit of soda.)

Well, I have zero skills when it comes to picking up (or being picked up) in bars, so I took the easy way out- Adult Friend Finder. It’s been my friend for many years now.

And it even works in France!

I put up an ad as soon as I got here because I know these things can take time. I had to wait for someone cute to e-mail me and then it’s always the back and forth. And I don’t think everyone even read my profile because I got countless e-mails in French. Hello- no parle francais! (Yes, I know.)

But anyways, Pierre e-mailed me last week and I guess I just glanced over it without much notice, but for some reason took notice this weekend when he e-mailed again. He offered to show me around the town on his scooter. That sounded fun (if not death defying!).

So I e-mailed him back and we quickly made plans for yesterday.

I was to meet him at a near by square in the evening and he would be with his black and silver scooter. Easy enough, right?

Wrong!

I got to the square a little early because it’s only like a 5 minute walk, if that, but I had a lot of nervous energy, so I just went to go early. Well, after a few minutes I noticed someone on the other side of the square with a (big) black and silver scooter (I suppose it was closer to a motorcycle) and he was clearly waiting for someone. I couldn’t see the face from far away, so I got up and started walking towards him and when I got closer I saw that it was a much older man than who I was meeting (Pierre was only 35).

It couldn’t be him.

I didn’t want it to be him!

But for a good 20 minutes I was convinced he was my date. How much could I really tell about someone’s looks from a tiny picture on the computer?? And people lie…

I was so convinced I started to walk away but was stopped just in time by the real Pierre!

Who was a 35 year old boy. No lie. (I always seem to like the older guys with boyish qualities about them.) He was cute though- tan skin, brown hair, big round brown eyes.

After brief introductions, we decided on an itinerary for the night. I hadn’t seen Villefranche yet, so we would go there.

But first, a beautiful look out point.

By way of scooter! He handed me his extra helmet, and my only request was that he not drive too much like a French person. (In hindsight, going on the scooter together is a good way to get physically close very quickly!)

And the look out point- my God was it stunning, looking over the Baie des Anges (Bay of Angels) and all of Nice. And from what I could tell when we weren’t making out, it would be a great place to take pictures!

Making out at a beautiful look out point- now that’s the kind of memories study abroad trips are made of!

Our plans for the evening changed as things started to get a little hot and heavy. We decided to go to his place and order pizza in. (Hey, a free meal is a free meal. Have you seen the conversion rate???!!!!)

It was about a 20 minute ride to his place as he was in the newer part of Nice. He had a small little apartment- very French.

Once the pizza was ordered, the action started.

Score 1 for the French on foreplay! It’s been a long time since I was kissed and stroked all over before the actual disrobing (or even once disrobed for that matter).

And then after all the sweet kissing and slow removal of my clothing- he went down on me. That’s right! You read it here folks! (Sorry, I’m writing this before going out and I “pre-gamed” a bit (it’s too expensive to drink out otherwise!)).

It wasn’t too shabby. He fingered me too. Licked my ass a bit. Even stuck a finger up there (I do hate having fingers up my butt though for some reason).

And then- the sex.

All 5-8 minutes of it?

*Sigh*

And he had such a beautiful cock too.

Well the pizza came and *sigh* it was neither Italian nor NY quality. Oh well.

We watched a bit of French TV.

And then round 2.

And round 3.

Really, he gets a gold star for effort.

The cuddling was nice though. He was very much a sweet guy.

And I’m hoping soon I won’t think about Jefferson during sex anymore. That would be quite nice. *Headdesk* (I just have to remind myself how the quality of our sex life seriously (and I mean seriously) diminished this winter…)

I hope this is semi-coherent. I shall reread it tomorrow.

But for now, I have some celebrating to do. And some firemen to make out with. And God I’d love to get in another fuck.

I know, I’m such a slut.

But duh, you all knew that.

Sleepy Writing

I wish I had more energy to write. I’m just finishing up with my obsession over the break up with Jefferson. Once I’m in France I really want to do my best to not give this any thought. I’m going an ocean away- I want all this to stay in NJ.

But for now, I want to indulge.

6 months ago, when every thing with Diva started, and the fights with Jefferson began, I started writing in a friend’s only LJ.

I half want to post what I wrote.

I was so distraught with everything that was going on. I was so out of control- I literally did not feel in control of my emotions and thoughts and behaviors and I felt so powerless to stop (acting out against D.). And it just snowballed. It kept getting worse. And it changed Jefferson and my’s relationship from there on out.

I didn’t get out of bed the weekend we had our first huge fight in February. I cried and cried because I thought I’d lost him forever. I nearly threw up from crying to hard.

I’d go back and do what I could to stop myself. I don’t feel sorry for what I’ve said to D. because of her, but because of how it’s affected me, and how it changed my relationship with Jefferson. Fuck, it changed me too.

This isn’t me. This hateful, vindictive person. I never used to be like this. And I certainly don’t want to remain like this.

I think going away will be good for me. I want it to be good for me. I need to break some of these habits.

I’m going to try really hard to not think, let alone write, about this while I’m in France. I wish I could just turn my brain off and make it easy.

I’m really, really sorry this all happened. And how it happened.

New City

“Have you ever been to Chicago before?” I asked Jefferson as we neared Chicago.
“Yes, for work once.”

I nodded and turned back to look out the window and glorious Lake Michigan.

A few minutes later I turned to him, “Oh I’ll be having sex in a new state!”
“Very exciting!”
A pause. “Did you have sex when you were in Chicago?” I asked.
“You know, I was just thinking about that. I didn’t.”
“It’s a new city for both of us!”

I checked us into the room as Jefferson grabbed the bags. We went straight to the room and after checking out the unappealing view outside our window for a requisite minute, we turned to each other and started to kiss.

Jefferson’s arms wrapped tight around me as we kissed deeply. His hands reached for my shirt and pulled it over my head, tossing it to the ground, my bra following suit. I pulled his t-shirt over his head next, rubbing my hands over his skin and kissing his chest. I pulled him against me and walked us to the bed falling back with him on top of me.

We kissed more before managing to get our pants off.

Jefferson laid down on the bed and I settled between his legs and took his cock in my mouth.

I was deep into my blow job when there was a knock on the door. Of course it was the hotel staff with the mini-fridge I had requested. Jefferson got up and dressed quickly as I crawled under the covers. It only took a moment before the fridge was plugged in and Jefferson was back in bed with me.

He grabbed a condom and pushed himself into me. My legs wrapped around him pulling him deeper into me.

We fucked for hours that evening like so many times before. The sun had already set when I had settled between his legs for him to finish in my mouth (because yes Mariel, blowjobs do end that way ). I settled in his arms as we caught our breath and made plans for dinner.

Coming Clean

Some thing’s been driving me nuts and I think life will be much better if I just spill the whole truth.

I hate Diva.  With a passion.  Like nobody’s business.  And I’m insanely jealous of what she now has with Jefferson.

And I’ve been a complete bitch to her these past 6 months or so.

I’ve left countless nasty comments on her blog (generally anonymously) over the months and even sent a nasty e-mail (which, actually if it hadn’t been so mean would have been hilarious).

I guess I never admitted to anything I’ve done because I hoped for plausible deniablity.

I’ll even cop to trying to get access to her secret blog by creating a fake e-mail account and trying to pass myself off as a sympathetic blog reader.  Meh, I was curious.  Didn’t work though.  And wow did she say some nasty things about me and my relationship with Jefferson (that were also completely untrue).   (Even though it wasn’t true, it’s what put me in my bad mood yesterday.)

I don’t actually want to keep doing it.  I don’t want to be trapped in my hatred for her.  Especially since I’m doing my best to move on from all things Jefferson.  I also don’t want to keep doing it because I know she loves it and loves the drama and feeding into that completely negates why I’m being a bitch to her in the first place!

This is like step 1.  We’ll see if I need additional steps.

My acting out against her is basically what killed my relationship with Jefferson.  Contrary to some people’s beliefs, I don’t actually blame her for the end of my relationship.  And I know now that my anger toward her lately (because I cooled off significantly for awhile there) is misdirected (hence my misdirect post).  She was a symptom of my anger towards Jefferson for treating me like crap.

If he could have been honest with me about the nature of his relationship with her, maybe I wouldn’t be writing this today.

If he could have maintained his relationship with me then maybe I wouldn’t have been so jealous and felt so driven to act out.

If he could have taken even the most remote amount of responsibility for his any of his actions then maybe I would be cutting him out of my life, for good, right now.

But right, that’s a bit of a tangent.

So there it is all out there- I can be a bitch when I want to be (though my bark is worse than my bite admittedly).  And I chose to be a bitch to someone who seemingly had done nothing to me.  And I won’t even be apologizing for it.

I’ve never claimed to be perfect.  And I’ve never claimed to be oh-so-mature (if anything I hated it because it meant people expected me to be so grown up all the time.  I think people forget I’m only 22).

My own childish actions were the major cause for my relationship with Jefferson to disintegrate.  And I don’t need to hide the fact- from me or from anyone else.

It’s a fresh start for me from here on out.

Delete

I’ve been busy and brave removing the remnants of Jefferson from my life.

I’ve deleted all his e-mails and set a filter for any new ones to be sent straight to the trash.

Next is my phone and all the text messages (including the “I Love You’s” and such) and removing his number from my phone.

Plus I took him off my feed reader so I don’t have to see if he writes something about me (even though I’ve asked him not to).

I’ll probably be debating for awhile on pictures.

This is good. It feels good. I feel freer.

I never thought I’d actually be happy to have him out of my life. Funny how life changes.

Redirect

I had a small little break through this weekend. Jocasta helped me realized that my anger toward the she-devil was really misdirected. My problem isn’t really with her, she’s just a symptom of my problem with Jefferson. It makes sense right? I dunno, but that realization helped me let go of some steam. I feel less like I have this pent up hatred toward her. No, now I’m properly directing it to Jefferson.

Quietly though. I really have no urge to lash out at him like I did last year. It’s not even worth the energy.

But I’m still angry at him. I cried a few tears yesterday in the car, but just a few as he’s not worth my tears anymore.

I pissed over what we’ve become. We hate each other now. This is never what I would have wanted. I always wanted to imagine us being friends for a very long time.

I hate what I had to go through in the relationship. I hate that everything was always by his rules, on his terms. And if I didn’t like it, well, I knew going into it what to expect. And how having issues with the relationship was “drama.”

I hate him for making me believe he loved me. For making me think that I was actually special. That we were special.

I mean we were, weren’t we? We were Avah and Jefferson. We had something. I felt it; I saw it. It wasn’t all a lie. But it sure doesn’t feel that way now. It’s like we never had anything good.

I mean, 2 years into the relationship and he can’t tell me he loves me on his own? What the fuck is that?? I can’t deal with that shit. I’m not wasting my youth try to pull some kind of emotion from an old man.

(By the way, Gin and Tonics are yummy.)

I loved him. God I loved him so much. He was so beautiful to me. Once upon a time I only wished the best for him and would have gone completely out of my way to help him achieve it.

I am oh so thankful for this trip to France next week. My hatred for Jefferson is bleeding into all my other relationships and views on life. I don’t need that.

Didn’t he love me? Didn’t he care about me? Why wasn’t I special to him? Why wasn’t I ever enough?

Look at me doing this- doubting myself. I don’t want to be like this.

I don’t want to hate him. I don’t want him to hate me. And I don’t want to hate myself.

I can’t wait until this is all over. I don’t even know how long this is going to take. Oy, I don’t want to think about it.

Ugh, I’m so tired. I need to sleep.

I’m actually incredibly numb over this. I can barely feel anything. I say I’m pissed and angry and fed up, but really all it feels like is a blanket funk. I just don’t have it in me to be upset anymore.

I’m going to be numb while sleeping now.

What’s another word for exit?

When Jefferson and I were in Chicago we laughed about the signs in the subways (or “El”) that said “Out” or “Way Out” instead of exit.  We got quite a kick out of it.  (We’re simple minded creatures I guess.)

Maybe Chicago should use this LOLcat for it’s signs…teehee.

Ferklempt

This break-up with Jefferson has me all knotted up inside.

It’s not that I don’t think it’s the right thing. I think it’s right so much more than ever before. I just can’t live with the way he lives his life, or who he is, or how we are together anymore.

I’m feeling bad about how it all came about though.

Chicago was a nice time. It wasn’t spectacular. But it was nice. I knew before we left that it was over. But like hell I wasn’t going to enjoy this trip I’d been planning for 6 months. I was sweet and affectionate though. Because I enjoy being so.

And then he came to my orgy, where I practically ignored him. I think he thinks I was jealous over him playing with Adam’s girlfriend, Rachel. I’m not sure exactly, but he mentioned something about orgy drama. There was no orgy drama. I was concerned with him beating up on her actually since he was drunk off his ass, as usual. No, no orgy drama. Actually I was ignoring him because he spent the previous night with my most hated of enemies. And it takes multiple showers to get the stench of whore off oneself.

But when I e-mailed him last week and told him that I felt I’d out grown him and wasn’t going to pursue seeing him because he no longer had anything I wanted, I think it came a little out of left field for him. Which probably led to the douchebag twitter of his. “ I’m told that someone won’t continue seeing me because I drink and have sex with another woman. Please refer to manual, page one.”

That’s not what I want to wake up to.

So I laid out some truth. I hate his drinking; I hated how his relationship with that whore was taking precedence over ours; I hated how I felt stunted in our relationship. He was a man that hasn’t changed since the day his ex kicked him out 4 years ago.

But I told him I wasn’t breaking up with him. I just wasn’t going to initiate getting together, but if he wanted to see me then I would find time.

So we made a date together to just hang out before my weekly therapy appointment on Wednesday. We were meeting in the park at noon, barring rainy weather or another heat wave.

Well, after coming back from Boston on Tuesday, I went straight to Callie’s and spent the night with her, so I didn’t wake up very quickly after he sent me an e-mail confirming a time. I e-mailed him when I woke up to confirm noon; and then I twittered. And that’s where it all went down hill.

I wrote how nice a day it was and hoped some schmuck wouldn’t ruin it. Not any schmuck in particular.

Well, Jefferson took him to be the schmuck in question and canceled our get together. Leaving me stranded in NYC. Well, he certainly became some schmuck and instantly ruined my day.

I guess it was good that I went straight to therapy. Because even though I was a little dramatic, in actuality, it was barely nothing.

I mean, I blogged (see: Purge), but please, that’s nothing. Bugged him though. And I’m locking my posts and twitters for the time being because I just want him out of my life for a little bit.
I did call him trash. And told him it was definitely over.

I wasn’t hurt by what he did; and I wasn’t disappointed I didn’t get to see him. I was annoyed that I was inconvenienced. I was annoyed that he continued to try and keep control of the relationship- dictating exactly when I would see him and also policing my behavior. Yet at the same time holding me to a double standard. He could twitter something rude about me, but I couldn’t say whatever I wanted (even if the twitter had been about him).

Nuh uh. That doesn’t fly for me anymore.

But I am upset how it all went down. I mean I can’t know for sure, but I’m feeling like perhaps he’s confused and/or hurt. (If it’s possible to be hurt since he has the emotional range of a rock.) I offered to explain why this break-up is really quite necessary. He said he was too busy.

Well ok then.

I have deleted our e-mails. They’ll sit in the trash for the next 30 days, but I don’t think I’ll be recovering them. It’s amazing how that one little step can take a load off your shoulders.

So yeah, I feel remorse that it had to end on a sour note. And I guess I’m sorry if I hurt him. That wasn’t my intention (this time). I did kind of want him to just open his eyes and see what was so obvious. About himself; and us.

He should be more used to being dumped. Shouldn’t he? And shouldn’t I be used to breaking up with men? (It’s what I do.)

I don’t think I’m really allowed to concern myself with his well-being as the dumper.

Any further contact I would make would only be to assuage my own guilt, but probably would only end up causing more drama (Jefferson is a major drama queen (in total denial about it)).

So, the best I can do is write locked posts about being sorry for it all.

And holy crap it’s past 4am.

Purge

I think it’s time to purge the sludge from my life.

When I broke up with my ex, Casi, I erased all our e-mails and IMs and pictures and it was so liberating, and even though it was hard, I’m glad I did it. It makes getting over someone a lot easier because it’s a lot harder to reminisce about the “good ole days.”

I think I need to take that step with Jefferson. It’s a little more intense erasing 2 years of history as opposed to 3 months, but it’s for the best. If only if it were a simple process to pluck him from the blog.

3rd break-ups stick. I swear.

Scar- by Missy Higgins

He left a card, a bar of soap and a scrubbing brush next to a note,
That said “use these down to your bones”.
And before I knew I had shiny skin and it felt easy being clean like him,
I thought “this one knows better than I do”

A triangle trying to squeeze through a circle
He tried to cut me so I’d fit

And doesn’t that sound familiar? Doesn’t that hit too close to home?
Doesn’t that make you shiver; the way things could’ve gone?
And doesn’t it feel peculiar that everyone wants a little more. So that I do remember to never go that far,
Could you leave me with a scar?

So the next one came with a bag of treats,
She smelled like sugar and spoke like the sea
She told me don’t, trust them trust me.
Then she pulled at my stitches one by one,
Looked at my insides clicking her tongue,

And said “This will all have to come undone”.

A triangle trying to squeeze through a circle,
She tried to blunt me so I’d fit.

And doesn’t that sound familiar? Doesn’t that hit too close to home?
Doesn’t that make you shiver; the way things could have gone?
And doesn’t it feel peculiar, that everyone wants a little more?
So that I do remember to never go that far,
Could you leave me with a scar?

I think I realised just in time, about my old self was hard to find.
You can bathe me in your finest wine but I’ll never give you mine.
‘Cos I’m a little bit tired of fearing that I’ll be the bad fruit nobody
buys,
Tell me, did you think we’d all dream the same?

And doesn’t that sound familiar? Doesn’t that hit too close to home?
Doesn’t that make you shiver; the way things could have gone?
And doesn’t it feel peculiar that everyone wants a little more?
so that I do remember to never go that far,
Could you leave me with a scar?
could you leave me with a scar? ah-ah-ah.

A Need to Be Filled

I had woken up horny. Jefferson had fucked me to satisfaction that morning, but after showering and falling back asleep I woke up wanting to come again. I was on my own though as Jefferson had come that morning and was busy doing work at that point.

“I’m horny. Your toys are in their usual spot?”
“Yes, honey.”

I went into the cupboard and pulled out the Hitachi and gold box with various toys in it. I started out with just the Hitachi but it didn’t take long for me to realize I was going to need more than that to get off. I pulled a dildo from the box and covered it with a condom and slipped it inside me. I tried again with the wand. Nope, my ass needed something too. I grabbed the big red butt plug and slipped that inside me too.

Ahh, that was much better.

I put the Hitachi against my clit and just relaxed, letting the orgasm come to me in it’s own time.

When I came, I tensed up and cried out as my pussy and ass spasmed and tightened around the toys in me. I shut the toy off once I was finished, fully satisfied.

I came back out and relayed the events to Jefferson, claiming it was a “need to be filled kind of day.”

“I’m making progress you know,” I thought to him.
“How’s that?”
“Well, 2 years ago I would never talk about how I get off, but now I can. Though I still won’t let anyone watch.”
“Maybe one day,” he mused.