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  • GypsyButterfly

    A Note Just For You

    By GypsyButterfly

    If I don't phone, text or email you, please know you're still in my mind & heart. Which is why I can't contact you. It would hurt too much. It might lessen in time, but, I don't know if it will ever completely go away. If you reach out to me (which I hope that you will), I may not answer or get back with you. Believe me, I want to, more than anything. I'm keeping all of the messages. Even if they seem to be deleted, I saved them elsewhere. Right now, I don't have my phone on much & I'm not checking my email. The phone would probably be the best place,though, when you want to get a hold of me.

Τhe complexity of me

There are some people who are strong, "they do not need", they are "beasts that can withstand everything". They are the people who, no matter what happens, no matter how they kneel, they will stand up again to walk upright as if nothing had ever happened. Those who do not get sick, do not get tired, have no need for tranquility, do not moan, nor complain. It's you, it's me, it's the mom next door. Everything will pass through our hands and moments of weakness look like luxury we are never allowed to. And when we are tired of stress or stress, they are all stunned and mumble, "But you don't need to, you're strong." Power means "you need it too" ... And you're really strong. A superhero, you are there for everyone: your parents, your friends, your children, your spouse, your neighbors, the whole world. The mother earth that absorbs the vibrations and is watered by the tears of others. You remind of a porcelain vase that falls but it does not break, it remains untouched and firm and there lies its beauty. Your tears are nowhere. You swallow them silently and hide with care that as if you fell and broke into millions of pieces you anxiously glued them together not to be seen.  But the cracks exist and surround you every time others admire you for your integrity.  They put their finger on the mistakes you overcame, the fatigue you choked on, the fever you concealed and the cry you made a smile to heal everyone else. Force means you fell but rose again ... Your secret power is not what everyone else thinks. Not having time to get sick doesn't make you strong . Or that in the end you will do it all by yourself. Your strength lies in the fact that you fell and broke. You stuck your pieces together and then you broke them again and again and again and again.  No matter how much you hide your cracks, they are always there and indicate that you are beautiful and strong. So don't be afraid to show it - anyone who sees it will be lucky. Power means that you can and express your feelings… The strong one is the one who, when he falls, has the power to rise, and that is the message that must be passed on.  We should Shout that we fell and broke, so anyone can  see that even so, one can rise again and get back their pieces together . The one who expresses their anger, their sadness, their  anxiety, their  despair is  powerful. The one who may sometimes need it and is not afraid to say it. Power means you can't please everyone ...Yes, you are strong. Very powerful indeed. Even when others are dissatisfied because they have never learned to take responsibility for themselves and to meet their own needs. You can help, direct, embrace, heal, but not to please everyone.  Your strength is shown when you first thank yourself, so that you can then become the foundation that will support your whole family. Strength means you have weaknesses ...It means admitting that sometimes you need someone to hug you. Someone who will love your cracks and wounds, who will ask you nothing but listen to your silence. Someone who will be there when you apply your weakness to his own power just to rest, to relax in the quiet of the mountain, and unite your tears with sea water.  Someone who will stand by you as a mother, father, brother, friend or lover for a while and will accept redemption as something natural and expected without judgment or guilt. A gentle touch of the soul that will smile as if ready from long ago to kiss your eyelids and put you to bed affectionately. There are some people who are strong, "they do not need", they are "beasts that can withstand everything". It's you, and I am, too, the mom who leaves nearby.  And we all know that the super strong mom costume, the super perfect woman, hides bruises and scratches from underneath. And those that think  that we look like porcelain vases that are falling but don't break  have not seen that there are millions of engravings from the sticks of our thousand pieces that we are proud of and that make us beautiful and powerful.   I am not strong, I am just a woman that have learned to hide my weaknesses, my wants and my needs. That have learned to hide my tears behind a stone mask and my awkwardness and shyness behind silence. That have learned to hide my emotions before everyone else and their needs. Why this tonight? Because sometimes I just need to write down what I feel. Because sometimes words fail me and I say the wrong thing.I don't say enough when I have so much to say.  I just need my time, you know this. And tonight I struggle and you know this too. But it's from the few times, right?                                                                          Ε




My Fairy-tale

On Friday the 13th of September, 1996, I married my best friend. Tomorrow is Friday the 13th and it will be our 23rd wedding anniversary. I couldn't have imagined when we met that he'd become what he has to me. He is as much a part of me as my own skin.  We met through a friend in the 10th grade. I had never had a boyfriend . I was naive and completely clueless. I'd had a few crushes ,many on girls but I'd never even slow danced with anyone or had my first kiss. I had a decent group of friends but I was still recovering from past traumas and didn't really let anyone get too close to me. I had built a wall around myself. Then suddenly this skinny man-boy with braces began to dismantle that wall brick by brick. Within weeks we were on the phone everyday . Within a few months he'd given me a promise ring and professed he was going to marry me.  When the school term ended he went off to a work program for the summer and I went to spend the holiday with my grandmother. He wrote to me everyday that summer and addressed each letter, "to my future wife". I still have all the letters and when he pisses me off I reread them to remind myself why I love this asshole so much.  Fast forward a few years, we finished school and got married shortly after my 19th birthday . It wasn't a big affair. A trip to the Court room and a low key dinner at a local Pub with family and a few friends afterwards. A year later our first child was born . He worked in a hockey stick factory, I was a stay at home mom. We were barely making ends meet. He decided to go back to school and train for a better career. After a year of drowning in student debt he gave up and joined the Army.  We've been through so much together. 9-11 , five deployments to Afghanistan . We're on our 8th posting (move) . We've bought and sold 6 houses, said goodbye to countless friends and neighbours. Somehow in all that we managed to have a second child. Then my oldest became ill and for a year he was in and out of hospital while I was caring for a new baby. We never had any help from family. It was always just us against the world. He accepts my bisexuality and defends me at every turn. He works hard and is an amazing father. He has been a hockey coach and a taxi driver. He took care of me after my hysterectomy and another surgery . He isn't perfect. not by far. We argue sometimes. Not often anymore . He can be arrogant and he's a black and white thinker like most soldiers but he tries to understand me . He tries to be better everyday and he loves me. I have no doubt about that. He is as loyal as a golden retriever. We've weathered the diaper years, poverty, the nasty teenage years, PTSD, and we're on the cusp of the empty nest years. Through it all he's been my rock. He isn't perfect and I don't have him on a pedestal he's very human and very screwed up, but so am I . He is my knight in shining tin foil and I wouldn't have it any other way.  I know what it means to be loved unconditionally and I know what a rare gift that is. I know that we are a team until one of us dies. That may not be every ones idea of a fairy tale but it is mine.    




Platos cave

I am not going to write anything personal, I am not that big in sharing. I will share a video about Plato and his cave allegory. His view of the world and how everything since the moment we are born shape us. How easy it is to get used to the light and view differently everything escaping a false reality. How some escape and view a different reality than the others and the acceptance or not of them.   




Runaway Utopias

Justine Kurland is an American photographer from NY whose work includes scenes of teenage girls and women expressing themes of escape, rebellion, freedom and survival on their own terms.  Life separate from patriarchy is exhilarating but often gritty, and arduous.  Many of her images include themes of feminine sexuality and romance which ironically became an influence on her own sexuality; she began dating women as well as men after taking these pictures.  Warning - there is some nudity in the pictures below, especially near the bottom of the post which has images of women and their babies in outdoor settings that suggest lesbian commune life.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    References: https://www.miandn.com/artists/justine-kurland?view=slider#4 https://www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorial-photographer-envisioned-fierce-army-girls-forging-paths https://www.anothermag.com/art-photography/10908/documenting-girlhood-justine-kurlands-captivating-pictures-20-years-on     This is Justine and her son Casper photographed by Jason Schmidt

celeste teal

celeste teal


After Joe Part 2

After Joe, Micheal and i went out for a little while then a couple others guys came and went. I got married had a kid and left him as well. I went hog wild as they say. I was dancing full time taking care of my kid and my grandmother. That is when I had my first threesome. My friend and her husband wanted to be with me I was still young and very inexperienced at the time and never really interacted with my friend I just couldn't do it. Something inside me froze. I sat there staring at her body while she was pleasing her husband but I just could not bring myself to reach out and touch her. I wanted her to reach out to me to touch me to kiss my breast but she didn't, so we finished up and I left and never looked back. I found out later that her and he husband split up not to long after that night and it still haunts me to think I might have been the cause of their marriage failure. A year later I fell for a guy named Jerry who was not my typical guy, He had many and when I say many I mean a whole hell of a lot of piercings and back then they were not popular like they are now. He also liked it rough which I was definitely not use to but I was game to try and see if I liked it that way. Well again that relationship didn't last and again I was left wondering what was wrong with me and why I can't keep and make a man happy?!?!?! Jerry and I still hooked up on occasions and one night he suggested that we hook up and mentioned a girl that I had been massively crushing on since I first met her. I was so scared and intimidated by the entire cituation that again I never touched her and she told me many times it was ok as she wanted to please me. I so wanted to enjoy myself but I was so uncomfortable with myself that I was worrying the entire time and never really enjoyed what was being done to me. I fantasize and dream of it often and make it what it should have been back then. Since then I have not dared to try to be with a woman again cause my fear of me freezing again. When i hear peole say they are damaged all i can think of is the damage that was done to my body my mentality and my ego over the years and wonder if i ever got the chance to be with a woman again would i be able to enjoy it or would i feel inadequate and so nervous that it would be a repeat of my past. I talk a good game but inside I am just another scared little girl.




The early years Part 1

When i was 14 I fell head over heals in love with a guy named Joe. He was 6'3 blonde blue eyed God. I could not believe this gorgeous man could ever want a plain girl like me. He was 17 what could i ever give him I was a 5'5 gangling brown hair, brown eyed nobody. But he did he want me and I was willing to do anything he asked to keep him, to have this God as my own. To show all those girls at school; the ones who bullies me and made me feel like crap about myself, I was better than they were and ever would be(they all wanted him). The first year was amazing, I was on cloud nine. That is why when he changed i could not understand what happened, what did i do wrong? What could i have ever done to make him mad enough to hit me. He starting controlling me I wasn't allowed to do so many of the things that he could have cared less about in the beginning. I was no longer allowed to sun bathe in my backyard , I could no longer smoke cigarettes although he would still smoke around me. If I did any of the things he didn't want me doing and he found out about it he would get enraged if I fought back he would then over power me and hit me. He tried to throw me out of his truck while he was driving 65 miles an hour down a busy road, when he was unable to kick me from the truck he bent me over a countertop backwards(my back has never been right since) I had to do what ever he told me to or there would be consequences. At 15 and a 1/2 he took me to a Go-Go bar and made me get on stage that night. At that time I was so frightened, so scared that if i didn't make enough money what would he do to me later. I didn't make enough money! That night he drop kicked my knee dislocating my knee cap. I crawled 3 miles to the nearest pay phone to call a friend to pick me up. That night I told him i was leaving him, I have lived with my grandmother since I was 7 he started threatening to hurt my grandmother if I ever tried to leave him. I knew in my heart it was the truth, he WAS capable of killing her. So many friends tried to get me to leave but I just could not tell them everything that was happening, god forbid if they knew and tried to take up for me. When i turned 16 and a 1/2  i got the courage (thanks to a wonderful person named Micheal) to leave him. I had to hide out at different friends houses for a couple of weeks and made my grandmother promise to stay with her friend until i felt it was safe. 6 months later I awoke to my grandmother screaming my name, i thought on my god he came back and he is going to kill us this time. I ran down the hallway baseball bat in hand ready to defend my life to my last breathe. My grandmother was standing alone in front of the TV the news was on, Joseph W. Creamer had murdered 81 year old Mr Brookes in the Lake Edwards town homes on News years Eve. I dropped to my knees and cried harder than i had in years....... I felt for Mr. Brooke's family but i was finally free, Free from the fear that had plagued me for years.  Free from having to always look over my shoulder worrying that one day he was going to come back for me. Some years later i received a letter from him from prison. The fear came back to me as i read that letter just like he was standing there next me with his fist raised. Until that day i did not realize i was still scared he still had a hold me and every relationship that i had tried to have failed because of it. I bounced around trying to find love only to poison it with my fear. When i met my now husband I told him this relationship will never work I am poison, and as i said those words i knew what i had to do. that very next week my future husband help me get my truck right and I drove 6 hours to visit Joe in prison. Was it closure I needed? Was it the peace and mind of knowing where he was? I truly do not know I only knew that this was what i needed to do.  I know that he received 2 life sentences yet i still have nightmares of him showing up at my house. I will see someone walking down the street that resembles him and have a full blown panic attack. once a year minimal i check the state prison site to make sure he is still in jail.




I Am (Part 2)

Damaged (most probably beyond repair) A tool (yet again) A fool (I never learn) A joke Scared Scarred Broken  In pain Hurt  




In My Prison

A couple of years ago, I would think that I am lost, but now I know that I build and I am now in my own prison. I got too comfortable being on my own. Nobody to love and to love me. I have gotten hurt many times before, hurt bad and many many times. But nothing beats the way I got hurt in the past year. I build a wall so high up that I no longer feel numb, but almost comfortable. It should be a scary feeling, but it's not.  The moment I meet someone new who might like me or fall for me, I would tell them that I am broken and damaged straight away. No point to seal that part. I am never going to let anyone in. The other day I woke up feeling sick. Sick of the thought of even having anyone like me or love me. It felt weird. I am comfortable in my prison. The moment anyone gives me even the slightest doubt about them, I will pull away and leave (whether they are new friends or my closest friends). I just can't take being treated like a joke or taken for granted anymore. I have learned to love myself and myself only (as selfish as that sounds) It is my only safe place and I am content.  I have heard so many things that women tell me when they like me, and when I tell them I have heard it all before and they will still end up leaving me, they never believe me. But they all ended up leaving me. I would say I told you so but I wouldn't want to waste my time on them anymore. I'd just disappear too.  I don't expect anything....   




taking a deep breath

Last month or so has been rather rough for me. I don't really talk about it much considering I don't want people to think I'm trying to make a pity party for myself. This has nothing to do with the people on here. Everyone has been so kind and welcoming. But people in my every day life often express that I get emotional fairly easy. I lost my step father towards the end of June this year. A horrible car accident. I've been grieving trying to make sense of it all. I don't think people understand the gravity of what I deal with every day. I often feel like my heart is in two places. Here in Houston, the other in Mission.  I worry for my mom who just lost her partner, the love of her life. My siblings, all boys, that need their father here to raise them. 18, 22, 20. All young men. One of my siblings and I share the same father. After what happened, I was left questioning why I even bother calling that man a father. He doesn't keep things to himself. When my brother came to him letting him know he was gay, he told his whole family and pretty much betrayed his trust. Then on that night when I found out about my stepdad, I went to my father for help. First words out of his mouth? Why are you trying to get ahold of my family?

My brother decided to move back home which I think was a great idea. He seems to be more relaxed though he still tends to be a pain in the butt i say this kindly. He is my little brother after all. He tends to cause mischief. But its understandable considering he hasn't really found his way yet. He's still young and grieving the loss of the man he thought of as his dad. My relationship with my stepdad wasn't the greatest in the world. But I still feel heartbroken over his loss because of my son. Out of both set of parents, my stepdad and my mom were the most accepting of my son's autism. I couldn't even tell my own son what happened. We just pretty much told him that he had gone on a fishing trip with great grandpa and they'll be gone for a long while. It seems cruel, I know. But I didn't know what else to do. his autism sometimes causes him to not understand grief like that. But I think in his own way he does know. He tends to surprise you.

Its only recently that I found my way out of the darkness. I've been able to focus on other things aside from my pain. I've been writing in my journal, finding that creative flow, my other friends (who don't know about my life outside of the computer) have been really helpful to me. Though there is that part of me that still hopes to find another married bi woman to talk to. Someone who could relate to my situation. I'm really grateful for the friends I have made here. I've had quite a lot of fun. I really wouldn't trade them for anything. its just a thought I had recently. 

This is so hard

I'm not really sure how people do this. Sharing of pain thing. I am struggling to find words like never before . I will start with a brief over view of my childhood . My father was an Electrical Engineer at a firm in Downtown Montreal. He worked in a big building and wore a suit. I had no idea what he did but I knew he was important. I also knew we were wealthy compared to many of my classmate.  My father was old school, think Don Draper from Mad Men .He gave my mother an allowance to shop. She was a housewife. He had his secretary pick out my birthday presents on his behalf . He also drank like a fish. My childhood wasn't classically abusive. I wasn't beaten black and blue but it was unpredictable. My father could go from giving you a piggy back ride to bed to slapping you across the face in the blink of an eye. He believed intelligence came from Math and Science. I was not good in Math , hence I was stupid. Even if the rest of my grades were above average. I must've heard, "What are you stupid?" a million times by the time I was a teenager. I have a brother and a sister but they are 4 and 5 years younger than me so I took the brunt of my dad's meanness.  My mother is a religious zealot and pretty much told me I was going to hell everyday of my life. She once told me she'd have preferred to find out I had cancer to knowing I sleep with women. NICE!  My childhood sucked but was better than many and worse than a few. I never wanted for food or shelter. I had nice clothing and presents on my birthday and Hanuka. My grandmother is a Holocaust survivor and I'm pretty sure I inherited anxiety from her . She was afraid of everything. Traumatized so badly she had nightmares until the day she died. I loved her very much but her fear was contagious and it affected all of us , especially me as her oldest grand daughter because we were close. I'd say I was coping ok with life until I hit puberty and then a series of unfortunate events sort of unhinged my life for a long time. I developed a bit of an eating disorder at 12 as a way to feel I had some control over my chaotic home. I was beginning to have some anxiety and depression though I didn't have a name for it. I just knew it felt like garbage to be me all the time and I didn't know why.  A few months after I turned 13 my grandfather died. I adored him and his death messed me up badly but what messed me up worse was my mother telling me that he was not with God because his beliefs didn't align with hers so certainly he must be burning in hell now. I can't tell you how much those words affected me . I think my hatred of all religions was cemented that day and I began to see my mother for the insane narcissist she is.  It was a life altering moment. Ok deep breath, now the hard stuff. When I was 14 yrs old I was walking to the corner store after school to get some gum . A car pulled up next to me and a man asked for directions. I got close to the car to answer him and he pulled me into the car before I could even scream. It was a bench seat and he pulled me way over near him and shoved me head down. He closed and locked the door and we were off. I have never been more terrified in my life. I was crying and praying to a God I don't believe in and begging. He drove for about an hour .I had no idea where we were when he stopped. I was a very naive little girl. I'd never kissed anyone.I'd had small crushes on people but nothing more. I still had a doll house in my room. The man smelled horrible. Like alcohol and cigarettes and sweat and oily hair. The car was littered with garbage. He took out a small knife and unbuttoned his pants .He forced my head into his crotch. I was covered in snott and gagging . I had no idea what he wanted .I was disgusted and confused. He forced his penis into my mouth .I thought I would vomit . I think I must've left my body for parts of this because after that my memory is in flashes. He tried to rape me but he couldn't get hard . He eventually sodomized me with an empty beer bottle from the back seat. It was the most pain I had ever felt. I thought I would break in two.  When he was done with me he opened the car door and pushed me out, then he sped away. I was in a deserted parking garage two towns away from where he's taken me. I was dirty and bleeding.  Sadly my first thought was my mother will say I'm a whore and damn me to hell . I walked to a pay phone which wasn't far but instead of calling home.I called my best friend Pat who came with his mother and the police . I had a rape kit done filed a report and because I gave a good description of the car the man was actually caught 2yrs later after trying to assault another girl. He was sentenced to 7yrs in prison and i didn't have to testify , they read my testimony to save me further trauma. When the topic of sexual assault affecting bisexuality came up I didn't feel strong enough to share . In my case I have to say it did . It has made me distrustful of all men . I'm still not sure how my husband penetrated that shell. I met my husband a year later. I was still a massive mess. I had night terrors and experienced disassociation where I was literally not present in my own body . He came from a dysfunctional family too. Though very different from mine. His family were working class . He'd never had much money . I grew up going to the Opera . His family did free concerts in the park. I traveled by plane and in hotels. He camped an hour from home in a tent.  I liked his family, they were kind. They drank a lot but they loved each other and I think I loved them even more than I loved him. There was no Holocaust haunting the house, no deep well of misery to fill.They played guitar in the yard. His dad grew weed in the garden between the tomatoes.  At this point my life at home was leading me to contemplate suicide . My mother saw me as stained and ruined . My dad couldn't even look at me . He told me years later he was sorry for not protecting me and was never able to forgive himself for that. I left home in an act of self preservation.  At 16 I was in my own apartment on partial benefits, working two jobs one in a store and one as a nanny to support myself.  I dropped out of high school in the 11th grade. At 18 my husband left his parents home and moved in with me. Just before my 19th birthday we got married. My first son was born before I was 20. Then he joined the Army , then 9-11 happened and my life became about deployments and war and survival mode. There was no time for selfish self reflection or dealing with feelings. So I buried them and for a long time that worked for me. it really did. I was happy. I loved my boys and being a mother. I had my LGBTQ community. I was navigating my marriage, my sexuality, my family . Then I hit a wall. I began to struggle the first time we had a threesome. It was so hard for me that I went back to the old coping mechanism of dissociating. I remember putting a condom on my husband then nothing. I couldn't be present for that and I had to leave the scene. He had to explain to me what I missed a few months later and it was horrible and nearly undid me. He deployed for a year not long after which gave me time to process and work on myself. Figure out why I was so insecure and triggered. It's a good thing I had that year or we probably would've ended up divorced. Sometimes the Army is a gift.  I worked on my jealousy ,thought I was ok. We had fun nights at strip clubs , a few more threesomes none of which affected me badly. I got to a point where I could see sex as separate from love and just have fun with it . Then we ended up in a triad situation . It got very deep ,very fast. I watched the man I love becoming a love sick puppy for this other woman. I felt threatened and scared and uncomfortable. I thought I'd allowed the devil into my bedroom.This wasn't just sex. This was my husband playing the role of someones boyfriend and rubbing my face in it. He never saw it like that. He saw her as my girl friend and flirted with her to keep her interested in us. Perceptions right? Anyways, my breaking point came about 6wks into the relationship. I woke up from a night terror looked over and saw the two of them entwined together beside me and I just had to get out of there. I threw on some clothes and went down to the couch. At this point I heard whispering upstairs and I was positive they were laughing at me. They were actually concerned and wondering where I was. At this point I'm convinced I had a psychotic break .My husband came down .I apparently looked him dead in the eyes and told him I was done that I hope they have a happy life together but I want no part of this life anymore. I then left the house walked across the street and threw myself into a ditch . She was bawling, he was completely confused. She hopped in her car and left. I remember seeing the reverse lights  of her car and thinking my husband had just left with her and my life was over. I was really not sane at this point.I walked back into the house . My husband was a confused mess. I was in a state of hysteria for hours. I probably should've been hospitalized and sedated. When it passed I was ashamed and embarrassed. I blamed my behaviour on having a glass of wine with Benedryl before bed for an allergy . I apologized to her.  Told them both I was fine and believe it or not actually went on holiday with them both a week later and tolerated the relationship in quiet misery with a fake smile for 3 more weeks until we moved. If that isn't the epitome of stubborn, arrogant refusing to admit to suffering,I don't know what is.  I created a pattern of self harm .Having these experiences I knew were traumatizing me, then smiling and pretending I was fine . I began using alcohol to cope .My disassociation became so bad I rarely remembered sex with my husband . Like an alcohol black out without alcohol. I'd have to look for clues in the morning , a towel or dirty undies on the floor. I would remember going to bed, or brushing my teeth but never the sex. This went on for years until I finally stopped worrying about hurting or disappointing others and put myself first.  My husband was devastated .He had no clue how unhappy I was. He always thought it was about us and he felt very selfish. In his defense I was very dishonest and a very good actress and you can't expect another person to read your mind.  Phew, so basically that's my story in a nut shell. No pity please. I'm a basically happy girl. I have a nice life. I laugh more than I cry . I'm sharing this because I don't want to come across as having had a smooth easy blemish free experience. My story of bisexuality has been a massive mess. It has involved pain and self discovery and mental illness and even at times borderline addiction. I abused myself and let myself be abused for over a decade before realizing I owe no one anything and I'm allowed to say no. Never do anything out of obligation or guilt . We all have a story. Thank you for listening to mine .                




The Squandering of Our Erotic Power:  Objectification

I am saddened.  Deeply saddened.  While not yet an old woman certainly, hardly in a position to sit in a rocking chair and have youngsters gather round to hear my ancient wisdom (as though I would ever have any “wisdom” to give, as I only have my heart and my soul and my feelings) but old enough to have been a witness to some significant changes for women in society, I must speak out upon them.  These changes are my joy and they are my sorrow.  They are my joy as I have seen women be liberated to a very great degree in so many aspects of their lives, and they are my sorrow because with this wonderful liberation, I am also witness to women engaging in their own debasement.  Women have been liberated to be…..just like men?  How tragic and ironic and such a terrible waste of potential.  I am witness to the squandering of our Erotic Power.  I wish to call for the reclamation of that power.  And I reach back into the past, to the words of a pioneering and insightful woman, a poet, a lesbian, a civil rights activist, named Audre Lorde, and her essay “The Uses of the Erotic:  The Erotic as Power” and I will quote her extensively, as she truly did posses wisdom, in abundance.   But first I must define some terms.  Erotic Power.  This is not just sex.  This is sensuality, deep feeling, deep emotion, and tremendous power.  It can, and should, inform every aspect of our lives.  Our work should be a joy to us as we infuse it with the energy of our Erotic Power.  Our play should be exuberantly joyous, infused with this Power.  It is the bubbling spring of female life energy at our core.  And it is being squandered because, while being sexually liberated to a very great degree, I see many young women, and not a few older women as well, who have accepted, and, worse, put into action, the male/patriarchal definition of erotic.  I let Audre explain better than I could:    “The erotic has often been misnamed by men and used against women. It has been made into the confused, the trivial, the psychotic, the plasticized sensation. For this reason, we have often turned away from the exploration and consideration of the erotic as a source of power and information, confusing it with its opposite, the pornographic. But pornography is a direct denial of the power of the erotic, for it represents the suppression of true feeling. Pornography emphasizes sensation without feeling.”   Here at ShyBi, many women arrive in a more-or-less similar predicament:  They are experiencing, and struggling, with feelings of sexual attraction towards women, and are puzzling how to deal with it, what to do about it, how to satisfy it, puzzling over what it is they need/want and how to get it.  Many are in a marriage.  And oh how many times do I see the same thing, in very short order, come up, as the option/solution of choice:  a threesome.  Why oh why, I want to wail.  I think the answer why is in that quotation above.  If, perhaps, your starting point was a fantasy and a desire for a threesome, and as a bisexual woman, that is certainly possible, and certainly a legitimate fantasy for a bisexual, to wish for simultaneous sex with a man and a woman, if so, fine.  I pass no judgment upon fantasies.  But that is just never what I am really seeing and reading here.  Not as the starting point.  I am seeing women who want to have a sexual experience/relationship with a woman…..and then they wander down to the solution “threesome.”  The male’s solution.  The thing that would be to the male’s benefit, to the male’s pleasure, in accordance with the male definition of erotic as pornography….in short, playing out his favorite porno clip in your bedroom.  Is that what you really want?  Really?  I suspect not.  What you want is a sexual experience with a woman.  And, in time-honored habitual female fashion, we set about adapting and modifying our wishes and our needs to accommodate men.  How tragic this is to me.  How depressing.  How much does it show that we, women, have come so far in one sense, but have not really budged an inch in another sense, still seeing our role as to please and accommodate the men in our lives, and only permitting ourselves some pleasure under a framework that is pleasing and acceptable to them.        Besides the threesome, there is another option that seems to have come into fashion, at least in those locations where it is practical/legal, and that is paying for sex with a woman as the means to satisfy this need and desire.  I have stated elsewhere that I am a Libertarian at heart, and as such, I have no quarrel with the sex trade, no quarrel with sex workers (with the obvious caveat, of course, that they be independent, in that business of their own free will and choice, doing what they are doing because it is what they want to do, with pimping, sex trafficking and other deplorable forms of exploitation being something no one advocates, not even the Libertarian).  But having stated I have no quarrel with the sex workers, have no quarrel with those who purchase legitimate sexual services, I can state, I think without causing offense, that I am nonetheless saddened by it, when I see that selected as the option of choice for the woman desperately craving a sexual experience with a woman.  Just saddened.  Not feeling angered, not even feeling condemnatory of this, per se.  Just feeling saddened.    Another definition of a term is in order here.  And now I know I must tread very very carefully indeed, because I have been witness elsewhere here at ShyBi that this word can be a stick of dynamite.  And so now I delicately pick up and gingerly handle this stick of dynamite, and should it blow up in my face….well, no one can say I was not warned.  The term is “objectification.”  There are actually plenty of versions of the definition of this term out there, some of them turning it into quite a red button issue indeed.  But I found a definition I personally like best, as it is really devoid of the elements that send people into fits of defensive anger, and it is this:  “to present as an object, especially of sight, touch, or other physical sense.”  Sound just a little bit familiar, then, as you read through some of the threads here at ShyBi?   Taking that definition absolutely completely literally, looking at it the way, say, an artificial intelligence would look at it, with the drapings of emotionality or connotations, or any of the other detritus we humans so habitually coat our convoluted interpersonal communication with removed…. just viewed as an AI would view it, then you must agree there is a lot of objectification of women going on at ShyBi, isn’t there?  Speaking of women strictly in terms of sight, touch, physical sense?  I have certainly engaged in that objectification, so I claim no special exemption, I lay no claim to being above it.  I have objectified women intensely, enthusiastically, unabashedly, in fact.  I have done that, and I probably will, at times, continue to do that in the future.  Because, you see, “objectification” is not by definition, in and of itself, an evil thing.  Say, for example, you call a plumber to your house because you have a busted pipe and need it fixed, you are, technically, objectifying that plumber.  Your sole interest in this person is in their plumbing knowledge and them getting your pipe fixed.  You don’t know them.  You have no particular interest or inclination to know him.  He is a “plumber” and that is the object you see him as.  You don’t know that maybe he is in the midst of a divorce.  You don’t know his daughter is in the hospital from a drug overdose.  You don’t know that last week he attended his mother’s funeral.  You don’t know and you are not going to know anything about him.  You brought him there to fix your pipe, that is what he is doing, and then he will leave.  And that is the sum total of your “relationship” with this person.  So, he is an object called a “plumber.”  No moral judgments here on treating a person this way.  It is a fact of life, a necessity of modern life, that we encounter and treat people as an object day in and day out.   Ahhh, but now the sex worker….an object in the same sense as that plumber is an object, the sex worker the person you engage to provide a service to you, money is exchanged, service is provided, your need is satisfied and the service provider leaves.  Simple.  But.  Still.  Sad to me.  Why?  Well, to be terribly, awfully crude about it, simply put, your vagina is not just a pipe.  But, let me pick myself up out of that gutter, and state things maybe just a little better, a little more elegantly.  Let me turn from my sometimes gutter verbiage to the wonderful beautiful elegant and wise Audre Lorde:     “When we look away from the importance of the erotic in the development and sustenance of our power, or when we look away from ourselves as we satisfy our erotic needs in concert with others, we use each other as objects of satisfaction rather than share our joy in the satisfying, rather than make connection with our similarities and our differences. To refuse to be conscious of what we are feeling at any time, however comfortable that might seem, is to deny a large part of the experience, and to allow ourselves to be reduced to the pornographic, the abused, and the absurd.”   And further:   “The need for sharing deep feeling is a human need. But within the European-American tradition, this need is satisfied by certain proscribed erotic comings together. These occasions are almost always characterized by a simultaneous looking away, a pretense of calling them something else ….. And this misnaming of the need and the deed give rise to that distortion which results in pornography and obscenity— the abuse of feeling.”   A looking away.  That is why I feel sad sometimes here at ShyBi.  I feel sad about threesomes as the chosen option.  I feel sad about a sex worker being the chosen option.  Because I feel this is a “looking away.”  What is it we are looking away from?  It is looking away from the true depth and breadth of Our Erotic Power, and settling for the male model of fulfillment as being satisfactory for us.  Louise, in the film “Thelma and Louise” said to Thelma “you get what you settle for.”  And that is exactly right.  That is so true in all aspects of our lives, but most especially in our relationships, as Louise was talking about Thelma's relationship with that controlling, obnoxious and dictatorial husband.  Choose a threesome as the means of experiencing the erotic with a woman…and you get what you settle for.  Choose a sex worker -- yes a legitimate occupation in my Libertarian mind – but you get what you settle for.    There is something missing in the threesome-of-convenience, something missing with the sex worker.  These are sex acts as purely sex acts and do not involve commitment, no truly deep knowledge of, let alone real connection to, the other woman.  And that is objectification, pure and simple.  It is just scratching an itch, basically.  What about the emotions, the heart, the soul, the enormous power of inner passion and feeling that is our special Erotic Power as women?  Engaging in sex as purely sex, are we not squandering away our erotic strength, squandering away our greatest resource as women, and settling for the male version of erotic?  Can you not then see my sadness?    I have not engaged in a threesome, and I will not engage the services of a sex worker.  True, I desperately desperately desperately desire a sexual interaction with a woman.  I am a starving woman, face pressed against the glass, looking in the window at a banquet table laid out with all manner of delicacies to delight the palate, and I stare at it all with a tortuous agony of desire and need and want….desperation.  But I am also most exceedingly greedy at heart because what I really want, what I really most desire, is the ultimate ecstasy:  to share my joy, not simply have sex; to poor my emotions and soul into her, and have her emotions and soul be poured into me; to laugh and to cry with her, before/during/after the sexual act; to feed her Erotic Power and have her feed mine, with that suffused into the entirety of our lives, not just in the bedroom.    Am I lecturing all of you, and admonishing you that my view is right and your views/actions are wrong?  No, I am not.  It is not about “right” or “wrong.”  It is about choices.  We make choices and we live with those choices.  I am only telling you that I am saddened by the choices some women make.  But I am not Sad, as my defining characteristic.  Oh no, as I still have the Erotic Power as a source of joy within me.  I have not the opportunity to physically sexually poor that joy into a woman.  But I can still poor that joy into everything in my life.  Because our Erotic Power is not just sex; I am not an object.  I am a person with love and joy to give, and I will keep on giving it.   From the song “Higher Ground”: "Lovers keep on lovin’ Believers keep on believin’ Sleepers just stop sleepin’ Cause it won’t be too long Till I reach my higher ground"  

Why does this happen to me?

I'm pretty sure it may not even happen at all, but I miss my ex even though I shouldn't. Damn...I was so close to having a functional relationship. All I've had were duds and people who weren't serious. She was serious, but damn...ugh. It just wasn't right. *shakes fists angrily* She was IT. She needs to hurry up and figure things out too! Ughhhhhhhh!!!!  I'm not sad. I'm just frustrated and irritated at how the relationship was so good. She stimulated my mind and my soul (oh the irony). Things were going so well. She got the time off that she needed and was trying to find a way to take a plane from where she was to come to see me, and we'd spend the week together. But. No. She tells me that she needs to stop and "put me on the back burner." Granted, those weren't the best choice of words, and I did chew her out and let her have it telling her that she utterly hurt my feelings and that she should NEVER use those words with people. She did call me and apologize for saying those words, and I do believe she was sorry because it seemed like she went stupid and used the wrong words, which she does that. Then, she told me that she still cares about me and that she wants to stay connected to me. I have no idea what that means, but because I love her—yes I did say that I love her and I do—I am waiting yet not waiting. I say this because I'm not putting all my eggs in one basket. I'm not going to cut myself off from meeting a potential partner because I feel there may be something left. No. However, I'm not going to discard her either. Before, and if, we get back together, there needs to be a lot of talking about certain things. I just wish that this would stop happening to me.  I get completely hot people, and then suddenly they become cold. Hot and cold. Hot and cold. Hot. And. Cold. I want someone to be hot and stay hot. I do not mean attractiveness. I mean involvement, dedication, and feelings for me. I don't want someone who goes in strong and then starts to wither away. That's not how this works. You're either in, or you're not. Apparently, when people see that I'm serious in a relationship, it sends red flags. They couldn't believe I was truthful. Why would I lie? Why would I tell someone things that are nice but not live up to them? I say what I mean, and I mean what I say. Don't even get me started on ghosts. Honestly, I can deal without ghosting. Ghosting is a touchy subject because people who ghost get offended by my opinion of people who ghost. I think they're spineless.   Be an adult and tell me you don't like me or that you changed your mind. I can handle rejection. Jeez. Now I'm not talking about people who ghost after the person didn't take no for an answer. In fact, that's not ghosting. That's setting a boundary. You said no, they continued to hassle you; then it's okay if you disappear. The bottom line is to say what you mean and mean what you say. Be honest. You don't like someone, or you're not feeling the vibe, then TELL THEM. If they can't accept it, then create that boundary and stop talking to them.    I tell people straight up if I don't like them. Sure, their feelings get hurt, but they need to move on just like I move on when I get rejected. Plus, don't give me that bullshit that if the person ghosts, then they were rejecting me. No, they were a coward and couldn't talk to me like an adult so they ran away with their tail between their legs. A. Waste. Of. Time.   Ghosts waste my time. You go completely strong and then you just *poof* and are gone.    Those are my tidbits in this random blog. Oh well. My blog. Be good, people! Bella




Me in a nutshell

I have found the perfect image to show how one half of my brain feels about the other in regards to the stupid decisions I make whilst online dating... Because I was dumb and naive and listened to my terminally optimistic sister in law (who I love to death,  don't get me wrong) I liked a girl on okcupid that I'd had my initial message on bumble time out on. Her reasoning was that I sent the message on 4th of July so maybe this girl hadn't had a chance to check her messages before it timed out. I was reluctant to believe it but then when the same girl popped up on okcupid, I (with the encouragement of my sister in law and against the one part of my brain screaming at me not to be a pscyho) decided to try again. Nothing happened so that was that. Then this morning, several days later, I get a message saying that this girl liked me. Hooray, right? No...no..not hooray... Because when I go to hit the notification, I get an error that says the person has either deleted their account or put it on private. And it was then that the wise words of Wayne came to me....   I wish you weren't so fucking awkward, bud...

The Depth of Our Erotic Power

A realization has at last fully come to me rather very late in life, age 51 to be exact, and that realization is this:  I am so very lucky to be a woman.  Turn the clock back some 40 years ago, and I would have never made such a statement.  Some 40 years ago, I lived in a state of profound jealousy of men, of all their advantages, of all their (supposed) strengths, of all the doors open to them that did not seem to be quite so open to me:  I looked at corporate executives, and I saw men.  I looked at United States Senators, and I saw men.  I looked at physicists, astronomers, biochemists, whatever, and I saw men.  I looked at astronauts and I saw men.  I looked at professional athletes, football, basketball, baseball, and I saw men.  The whole entire list of all the things I might dream that I would want to be, that I would want to do, and I saw men.  Oh, of course, there was a sprinkling of women here and there.  But each instance of the female form, standing there in a lovely brightly colored dress with her long beautiful hair, in the midst of a sea of cardboard cutout suits and ties and identical short haircuts that were de rigueur of the successful male, just seemed to declare “the exception proves the rule.”  And I, a teenager at the time, born and raised in quintessentially patriarchal Salt Lake City, Utah, stared with grave sullenness at this picture of a world where a person who simply happened to be born with a penis could be anything, do anything, have anything, but I could not.    Normal teenage angst was bad enough, but with this jealousy of boys and resentment over the fact I was born a girl added into the mix, I slid into quite a dark mental space, at times even borderline suicidal.  I started skipping school.  A former straight-A student, I started getting Cs and Ds and even flunking classes.  So the school sat me down with a psychologist, and the psychologist gave me a questionnaire to fill out.  I don’t recall the official name of it, but I suppose it was one of those less-than-subtle tools used to profile a person into some psychological category to then enable the appropriate, if necessary, psychological treatment.  In other words, lots of stupid questions.  But one of the stupid questions I do recall and it was this (directed of course to a female, boys received the opposite question):  “Have you ever wished you were a boy?”  I answered that question yes.   So, apparently, the psychologist contacted my parents and told them of this answer I gave to this particular question.  I then had an amazingly surreal experience.  My father coming into the living room that evening to speak to me – looking worried, and rather like he was sick to his stomach – and he told me he had been told what I had said on that questionnaire, that I wished I was a boy.  My dad swallowed hard – his face actually turned a bit of a greenish shade as I recall – he took a deep breath, and asked, with terrible awkwardness “are you….do you mean that you….are you….uh….attracted to girls?”  I stared at him with my usual expression, the expression my face was perpetually stuck in in those days, that is, grave sullenness.  I knew my dad was a homophobe, although that was actually too kind a word and not precise enough, as my dad was in fact a homo-hater.  I was quite well aware of that.  So this was neither the time nor the place for me to remark to my dad “you know what, as a matter of fact, hell yes I am attracted to girls.”  No, not the time to spring that one on him.  It would never be the time to spring that one on him.  And in any case, that was not the reason why I answered that stupid question on that stupid form as I did.  So I flatly honestly told him: “Dad, I said I wished I was a boy because boys can be anything they want, do anything they want….boys can play football! And I can’t.  That’s all I meant.”  And my dad’s face was suffused with tremendous relief, he looked like a terrible weight had been lifted from him, he almost kind of smiled.  Seriously, he heard what I said, my plaintive wail against sexism, against doors of opportunity that were closed to me, or at least not exactly wide open to me, and he actually, nevertheless, almost smiled.  And he said, happily, “Oh.  I see.  Well, okay.”  He gave me an awkward little comforting pat on the shoulder, as consolation, I guess, for the fact I couldn’t be a football player, and he left the room.  As far as he was concerned, the main issue of great concern, i.e. the issue of was his daughter a lezzie (oh the horror) had been answered, in his mind, in the negative and so all was right with the world.  And the expression on my face remained as before:  grave sullenness.   That was my father, and my mother?  Oh, not much better.  She unintentionally but quite firmly reinforced my wish that I had not been born female, and she did this with the “birds and the bees” discussion.  She sat me down at the kitchen table, a deep blush on her face, cleared her throat, and muttered that I was of an age now that I should learn about sex.  I was all ears at that point, my expression still grave but not so sullen all of a sudden, and I listened expectantly.  But instead of saying more, she placed a book on the table, a paperback novel, and she slid it over to me and said flatly, “Read that.”  She paused and added, “If you have any questions….you can ask me.”  Her tone of voice and the expression on her face said emphatically:  please don’t ask me any questions.  I looked down at the book.  It was “The Thorn Birds” by Colleen McCullough.  Being a devoted book lover, I was fairly happy, nothing I loved better than books, so I dove right into this book.  I was immediately enraptured by the main character Meggie, who we meet in the book as a little girl.  I could immediately relate to her.  The book follows her into young adulthood.  The plot, in summary, is that she develops a crush on a priest, but obviously that is not going to go anywhere.  Devastated, she meets another man, who happens to have a physical resemblance to the priest she adores, so she dates him, and accepts his marriage proposal.  But Meggie’s mother was not one to be informative about sexual matters to her daughter (that certainly rang a bell), so Meg entered upon her wedding night in complete ignorance about what exactly sex involved.  And because this guy only resembled the priest superficially, was actually a very rough and crude sort of man, who took it for granted Meggie, being a beautiful woman, had already slept around a lot, well let’s just say the wedding night was not exactly romantic.  In fact, Meggie’s first sexual experience was utterly horrific.  She experienced terrible physical pain (since she was not aroused at all, she was totally dry, and he used a condom without any lubrication, hence terrible pain for her) and she felt the whole act to be so disgusting and perverted and awful and terrible.  This was my introduction to sex.  This was my sex education.  Reading about a woman losing her virginity in terrible pain and agony, no pleasure, no passion, no love.  Just a painful, and as Meggie thought of it, disgusting act.    Now, of course, I was intelligent enough (and had read a few other things on the matter of sex, not to mention had seen many an R-rated movie) that I knew that Meggie’s experience had more to do with the rough callous insensitive crudeness of the man, and was not a general statement on what the experience of sex is for all women in all circumstances  At least I kind of knew that….maybe….but that book did set it firmly in my mind to expect terrible pain and discomfort in my first experience of intercourse on my wedding night.  It also caused me to feel furious anger towards my mother.  I mean, really mom?  This is how you teach me about sex?  By giving me a book that tells me sex is a horrible experience? That sex is simply a duty a wife must suffer and endure at the hand’s of her husband?  That sex is just one more distasteful chore?  You wash the dishes, iron the clothes, lay down and get penetrated by your husband’s penis, mop the floor, vacuum the living room, that is the to-do list for the day?  But right on the heels of that furious anger towards my mother, I felt great sadness and great pity for her, since what this was really telling me was that this was her experience of sex.  That she had never enjoyed sex.  It dawned upon me, with great horror, that my mother perhaps quite possibly had never even experienced an orgasm in her whole life.    And with grave sullenness, I thought:  Damn it sucks to be a woman.  Wish I was a man.    Well, of course I got over my teenage blues.  In college I met and married a very wonderful man (still married, will soon be celebrating our 31st wedding anniversary).  I did indeed brace myself for a painful experience on my wedding night….and then was relieved to find it was not so painful after all, and in fact was pretty damn good.  When it was over, I looked over at him stretched out on the bed and I softly hesitantly asked, as I was not quite sure if it was physically possible for a man, “Can we do that again?”  And he grinned and said “Sure!”  (Author's note:  that was the first and last time we did a "twice in a row" deal; thereafter, it was the more traditional one-and-done.)  Of course the next morning I was terribly sore.  But very happy.  I had pretty much gotten over my thing of “wish I was a man.”  I was comfortable as a woman.  But.  Still.  I wondered…..   I looked around at society at large, and I saw men unabashedly sex-obsessed.  And women?  The general attitude that seemed to be presented, society-wise, was women ranging from being either mildly kinda sorta somewhat interested in sex, all the way to rather completely uninterested, even disdainful of it.  Never did I see portrayed in the media an aggressively sex-obsessed woman unless she was a slut/whore/prostitute.  Women in general simply were not shown as deeply passionately sexual beings.  Perhaps what I was seeing had to do in part with the general environment I lived in – Utah – but certainly on TV, in movies, I still felt I saw this pattern.  Men were the enthusiastic ones, with generally a gleeful attitude of “hey, lets go screw ourselves senseless” while women were portrayed as strictly interested in wine, roses, a lovely candlelit dinner, an evening out dancing (all good things, I am not condemning them, I am all for romance) but then it was only maybe, perhaps, possibly demurely condescending to agree to a light (and, to my eyes, less-than-passionate) kiss….and on and on like that.  Lustful women?  Absolutely not.  Lustful men?  Well, you couldn't swing a cat without hitting one, that was just taken for granted as simply "the nature of a man."   My husband and I frequented porn movie rental places, frequented them quite frequently, as a matter of fact.  And I always noticed, quite uncomfortably, that I was the only woman there.  Always.  It was all men, and then me.  A little bit of grave sullenness crept back into my face.  I had to wonder, were men just fundamentally more sexual beings?  Were they just more in tune with their senses and with sensuality, and were women, in general, deprived of this ability, with prostitutes/sluts/whores being the only exception?  Were women fundamentally wired to be incapable of enjoying purely lustful, screw-yourself-senseless erotica?  And if so, how sad.  It seemed to me that men truly were the luckier gender then, because they were really into sex, apparently fundamentally wired to be really into sex, while women seemed altogether fairly aloof from raw lust, apparently only concerned with “romance” and having too delicate a sensibility for raw lust.  Or at least women sure weren’t showing up to rent pornos, anyway.  Of course I was there, renting pornos, and that meant, in my mind, that must mean there was something askew with me and I was not a “normal” woman, maybe my hormones were somehow off balance, which, I confusedly thought, would then also explain why I lusted so very much after women, fantasized so much about sex with women.  It must be because I had some male hormone thing going on in me, or something like that.   Oh, I was so pathetically confused.  But that is what happens when you are raised in Salt Lake City, Utah.  You end up, for a time at least, pathetically confused and ignorant.   But that was then.  This is now.  I am neither confused, nor ignorant, anymore.  I am so lucky to be a woman, so grateful to be a bisexual woman, and now feel, if anything, a little bit of pity for men.  Because now I know the truth.  Now I know that at least for some men (most men?) their experience of the erotic is like a shallow pond, while our erotic experience is a vast ocean.   I recently read some excerpts from an essay by Audre Lorde called “The Erotic as Power” and in it she says:   “In order to perpetuate itself, every oppression must corrupt or distort those various sources of power within the culture of the oppressed that can provide energy for change. For women, this has meant a suppression of the erotic as a considered source of power and information within our lives. We have been taught to suspect this resource, vilified, abused, and devalued within western society. On the one hand, the superficially erotic has been encouraged as a sign of female inferiority; on the other hand, women have been made to suffer and to feel both contemptible and suspect by virtue of its existence. It is a short step from there to the false belief that only by the suppression of the erotic within our lives and consciousness can women be truly strong. But that strength is illusory, for it is fashioned within the context of male models of power.”   I have realized that it was not that I was an “abnormal” woman because of the depth and breadth and intensity of erotic feelings within me, but rather that other women had been the victims of this societal (patriarchal) oppression, a suppression of their true erotic power.  A power that, on the one hand, men liked (obviously a sex-obsessed man would find a slut very useful and appealing) but perhaps men also feared the intensity of our erotic strength and power, it being a thing beyond their experience of sex, their one-and-done orgasm, their entirely penis-centered conception of and experience of sex, treating it and feeling it and experiencing it as a race to the goal-line, and then a nap.  And women….oh our sexuality and our eroticism being so very different, our whole entire bodies being experienced by us as an erogenous zone…men could see this….and fear this.    A case in point, how often I have read stories right here on ShyBi of a woman thinking she might explore her desire for a sexual relationship with a woman by a compromise of sorts by agreeing to a threesome with her husband.  And then….the husband gets to be an eye witness to the true depth and breadth of the erotic when two women come together, an erotic power only fully and completely realized, I think, when two women are pleasuring each other, a positive feedback loop set in motion where one woman’s erotic strength feeds the other and is then fed back to her in an ever escalating spiral of sensuality and passion, repeating itself again and again as a woman can have what a man cannot, multiple multiple multiple orgasms, an ocean wave crashing again and again upon the beach.  He witnesses this.  He witnesses the women drenched in sweat, skin flushed bright red, heaving and gasping breaths, a fiery glow in their eyes as the whole world has dropped away from them and there is nothing but exquisite pure waves of sensation crashing over them in their full-body writhing sensual embrace.  A man witnesses this….and fear overcomes him.  The husband becomes possessive, jealous….resentful.  And this experimental threesome breaks apart at the seams, and all of a sudden, the husband is not so happy at all about his wife being bisexual.  He fears it.  A man who finds himself an eye witness to the Erotic Power of women finds himself feeling threatened, inadequate, and lashes out.  Understandably.    I am so lucky to be a woman.  So grateful and happy to have been born a woman.  So very extremely fortunate to be a bisexual woman.  And when the men in our lives do not immediately agree to us embarking on a relationship with a woman, when the men in our lives react with anger, when the men in our lives reject even the possibility of considering polyamory…..do not react with anger in kind.  Instead, pity them.  For all of these reactions are rooted in simple fear.  Fear of our Erotic Power.  And right they are to fear it, for it is such a tremendous power, that once properly harnessed in all its full depth and breadth, women will change the world.  When we harness our passion and use it in everything we do every day, then the last remaining vestiges of patriarchy will be washed away by the sheer force of our erotic wave.  The one-and-done orgasm, the penis-centered world will be drowned, and in its place, we will ascend with passion and eroticism and joy, taking our rightful place as keepers of the flame of pure life energy.  And then, perhaps, men will come to us to learn, and maybe we can teach a willing pupil a thing or two about what Eroticism really is, and we can raise the open-minded man out of the shallowness he now wallows in.    I have a dream, and my dreams are Erotica.  

I'm literally a Rubik's Cube...

It has been a while! (I am so happy my lap top has recovered, and I am back into the site!) A lot of change, life happens when you blink.  Since my last entry, my boyfriend and I have moved in together; we have also celebrated two years together as recently as May. We have our ups and downs, but we have more communication than I have ever had with anyone in my life. I believe that is the best possible sign for our future. Also, I am still in weekly therapy. I am making progress with my health. These are all the positives, and I am thankful for that. Truly thankful. Isn't there always a but? I have to be honest. I don't know how to be happy. I don't know how to just be at peace. I question everything. I worry about everything. Especially sex...man, do I worry about sex. It is the first time in my life that I feel safe, and I want to have sex constantly. He does not, but it isn't me. He just...he has stuff he's working through too. I cannot blame him, especially as he is so supportive as I work through my own issues. Then, someone contacted me the other day about my previous crush whom I have not spoken to in about two (almost three) years now. I had to tell them that I am sure everything was okay, but I no longer kept in touch with the person. I was disappointed that a part of me worried about her, though I am still so pissed, and I had to walk away from my social media to prevent any contact with her.   I'm all over the place. Any advice?

Learning About People

Well, well, well...it has been a super long time. Dear goodness! Anyway, I've had some things happen to me, and I am laughing hysterically. To make it clear, the lesson I've learned is to expect nothing from anyone. Be open but don't expect anything from anyone.  How I've reached this conclusion was through this guy who ghosted me twice. I know...I know...why did I even give him a second time to hurt me again. Well, I give people two strikes. The first strike is me letting them know that I know they're human, but I'm keeping my eye on them. The second strike is that I see they have no respect for me, and this is who they are as a person.  My friend was telling me that she read a book that talked about four things—don't ask me for the title because I've been going nuts trying to remember it so give me a chance to explain it—and one of those four things is to know that you cannot force your expectations on other people. In other words, how you usually present your best self is not the same as someone else's best. In other words, if the best someone can offer is texting you infrequently, then you can't expect more. I thought of this way of thinking as somewhat odd and an excuse to let someone try and take advantage of you. She says,        "Well, no. You don't have to accept it. You don't take it too close to heart and catastrophize it." The book also said that if you try to push your principles on other people, you're the one being controlling. You are trying to control how someone should carry themselves around you, which is impossible. Okay, this was something I understood. I keep forgetting that not everyone had the same upbringing I had. I was taught to be courteous with people. Keep your promises when you make them. If you don't like someone, then tell them, so they don't feel like they're wasting their time with you. Be respectful. Be honest. Supposedly, I'm too traditional when I deal with people that I can't find another partner because I am honest and straightforward with what I want and people don't take kindly to that. I'm supposed to be aloof and play this dating game. Well, my apologies, but people aren't consoles or computers which are the only devices that I use to play games. Oh, and by the way, people are not things. I remember writing a blog about ghosting on another site I'm on, and this guy tried to throw a wrench into the conversation by saying asking why I can't just let it go and accept that this is how people are. Well, if I keep accepting and accepting it will never stop. So, I show people how they should let go of someone by telling them, no matter how much it sucks and makes you feel awkward, and I tell them that I don't think something will work.  I may sound too traditional, but as the years progress, people become more and more disconnected with each other. Sure we can blame it on social media, but I don't even think that social media is to blame. I don't believe that phones or video games or anything that deals with technology is the problem. The thing is, I think that people are the problem. You can still game and be social. You can be on social media and be social. I blame it on how people willingly accept shit and try to deal with it. My question is this: when does it stop? By accepting that ghosting is the norm, then we will become more and more disconnected with each other.  How do we solve it? Well, that's easy, show people how to talk to people. We have those tough conversations. We learn how to be more assertive in demanding what you want with someone instead of ghosting them. If the person doesn't get it, I understand why someone would want to cease talking with them after you've exhausted all the ways you could have said, "No, I don't want to talk to you anymore." I get it that. I'm not saying that I'm perfect and have never ghosted someone before. I know I have some growing to do myself. However, I do have tough conversations, and it is nerve-wracking, but I still have them. It has to happen. How else will people learn?  Anyway, this is becoming a novel. I'll end it here, but in the end, I've learned that people have strayed away from having tough conversations and use ghosting as a means of relieving themselves of the responsibility of being courteous. It's okay if you don't agree with that, but understand where I'm coming from. A relationship consists of more than one person, regardless if it is romantic or not. If you don't want to talk to me anymore, then say so. If you don't like me, then say so. If you don't want to be with me anymore, then say so. Try not to ghost. I'm an adult, and I can handle rejection. Sure, it is going to hurt. Sure, I might get angry, and perhaps it feels unfair at times. In the end, I have to accept it.  Ugh...the reason why I'm writing this blog is because of a conversation I've had with this guy. It is so irritating that he's a grown adult but refuses to take responsibility for his actions and then expect me to forget about it and be okay with us resuming anything we ever had between us. I told him straight up that I did not want to pursue anything with him and that he'd better find someone else and stop wasting his and my time. He didn't like that. By telling him upfront that I'm not interested in pursuing anything is how I show how to be an adult. I don't care if you wanted to do anything with me. This is me being responsible and courteous. I am taking responsibility to let you know that I refuse to take up any more of your time and give you any hope of us being together. I was courteous in saying it respectfully without using any name calling methods.  I only throw slugs if the person throws them first. I'm a classy lady. ;)  Now I'm babbling.  Am I going to try anymore with finding another person...? Though I say this, I know myself, I'll meet someone else and give them a chance. It is human nature to be imperfect. I have to accept it and move on. This is the flaw of a perfectionist. *facepalm*   Namaste, Bella  





I'm trying to pick up the pieces of my heart now.  Why did I love her in a way that would hurt me? It seems as though it hasn't done anything to her but annoy her to talk to me. I feel trapped in this feeling of lost. Why? She has found someone new. She seems happy again.  I hope nothing but the best for her. She deserves to have happiness in her life.


As it seems, I've gotten my heart broken again. Will it ever change for me? Will I ever find a lady to understand me?  Why do love so deeply and in the end, get hurt even more? I feel like nothing. Like I'm not good enough for anyone anymore.


Well, it's been several years since I last mused on the arc of my love life's forays.  Just shy of five years, actually ... and a lot has changed since then.  But lo and behold: I'm still identifying as bi and adamantly NOT lesbian, despite being "with" a woman for the past four years.  That "with" is unfortunately in quotes because I've not had the pleasure of actually living with her all this time due to a complicated situation.  Rather, a complicated series of situations. 1. She was married when I first met her, complete with a son. 2. She reached out to me on another site at the prompting of her (now ex-)husband (actually a bit against her will). 3. He had left me with the initial impression that he was interested in a third as well ... but that was a pipe dream, I found out. 4. She didn't want her son to find out and think she had been lying to him. 5. Her ex was a military officer, well paid, and about to PCS ... with her and their son.   Fast forward a few years (sorry, juicy details left out) ... and what do we have?   1. She is single, surviving on her not-quite-enough-income-for-CA and dwindling savings from her dad's life insurance, with her son living with her after being unable to complete high school.  I'm in UT, tied to a job that I can't seem to escape just yet.  Now, instead of just a 12-15 minute drive, it's a $200 1 hour 45 minute flight before I can see her, a couple of nights spent together, and another 1 hour flight back.  And several months in between visits.  2. We met on a non-PG13 site (my view) because of her naive entrance into a PG13 portal to the same shared site ... but if there's one thing I can be thankful for about her ex, he prompted her to message me there.  I had given up trying to find a real partner/relationship on that site and was pretty much using it for its chat rooms, to just hang out.  She'd been getting harassing messages in her message box when she finally got up the courage to send me an actual message and strike up a conversation. 3. In the end, he was basically looking for another hold to stick it in ... but not looking for another wife.  How sweet. (my translation on the first part, his literal statement for the second piece).  He had no trouble finding other holes to stick it in ... in Korea ... with permission from his at-the-time-wife (because she felt guilty being with me while he couldn't be with anyone else). 4. Her son (who's very emotionally intelligent and aware, unlike his sire) suspected his mom was "cheating" with me until she clarified the situation ... he's been fine with me and his mom being "together" since it's leaps and bounds better than what it was like with his actual father.  Unfortunately, his emotional intelligence hasn't been enough to help him control the tendencies/habits he learned from his father ... anger, lack of self-control, taunting/teasing her, wastefulness of limited resources, among other things. 5. Her ex has since retired from the military after going ahead and PCS-ing to TX without them, blames me as being the cause for his divorce (rather than the 17 years of BS she put up with before I came along), and is quietly reviled by his son.  He got off without having to pay child support, any of his retirement money, or deal with the issues his son is going through that probably started years ago when he insisted that his six year old son play Call of Duty with him ... and his son's skill at hiding how he's really feeling (that he picked up from mom). It's been a bit rough on my end knowing that she's not at all having an easy time of it, is struggling, is stressed out beyond belief, is still trying her darnest to stay strong for her son's sake ... and I'm here, unable to help her.  She doesn't want to take advantage of me or ask me for anything because she says I've sacrificed for her and have my own situation/struggles to deal with.  At the same time, my patience isn't as endless as hers is as a mother and I've been growing resentful of her son's seeming lack of action to help himself get better.  Wandering back onto this site after being gone for so long brings back memories of how I stumbled across this site in the first place: because I was longing for connection with someone who understood me.  The sad thing is, I found her ... but the complication I had hoped wouldn't come to pass is getting stronger each day: my lack of patience for a grown adult not handling their own business and a woman who would put herself in the ground for that adults sake because it's her son.  And I cannot fault her for being the awesome woman and mother that she is and always will be. :( ~ Loneal S.D. 20190430, 1937 MDT.    





I've been with my boyfriend for four years now, and he has always been supportive of my bisexuality.  Like myself, he finds it exciting. We ended up discussing fantasies, and he gave me the green light to explore with other girls (both online and physically) on the condition that he gets to hear all the dirty details.  Hell yeah, I'll give you every sordid detail there is. I'm shy as hell though, with no self esteem, and no connections.  I'm in a somewhat rural town with people that tend to gossip and dislike any sexuality that doesn't fit their norm.  Even members of my family have expressed their distaste for bisexuality or lesbianism.  So, I'm feeling a bit isolated in that regard when it comes to real life. My boyfriend suggested just sticking to my forums and online connections for now -- build up my self esteem, explore, become more comfortable and read experiences.  I've roleplayed and sent dirty messages to other girls and it's so, so stimulating.  I'm still lacking confidence in a lot of ways, but this forum has helped me more than I can put into words.  My "lesbian virginity" is still intact, but I'm slowly getting ready to move out of this town and delve into some new experiences. I'm not sure why I'm really writing a blog, but maybe someone in a similar situation will feel less alone? Being in a town surrounded by homophobes is hard, but having an online support network and knowing there are others going through the same thing can be reassuring.  I'm thinking of my progress more as an adventure.  Hopefully one that will go on for a long, long time.  Who doesn't love a good adventure?




Awkward...but not for me...

So, remember that chick who ghosted me? You do? Good Because I saw her at the grocery store on Friday   My mom and I were up at the grocery store on Friday and we ran into my aunt at the one entrance so we stood off to the side to chat, as you do. Well, after we were done, my mom wanted to pick something up from the small display that was down by the self checkouts so I went to follow her with the cart. Nothing weird... ...until I looked up to see ex-lady friend. To be honest, I probably wouldn't have even really noticed her except she had very obviously spotted me and was working extremely hard to blend in with the distinctly crowd-less area she was in. I mean I was worried she'd give herself neck damage with how hard she had her head turned to the side and that she might run into the wall for not looking where she was going.  Part of me was a bit shocked that she was going to such lengths to avoid me. What? Did she think I was going to invade her personal space and bother her? Because if that's what she thought, I'm also a bit offended. I am a grown woman capable of respecting people's choices. I wouldn't bother someone who has made it clear that they don't want anything to do with me. Another part of me thought this was hilarious. Because, honey, don't think that I need to chase after you. You're nice and all but I'm not going to bend over backwards to impress someone who doesn't want me. And maybe it's a bit mean of me, but I'm (not so) secretly enjoying this little encounter because I think being starkly reminded that just because you ghost someone doesn't mean you won't see them around town is a fitting reward for not having the balls to handle a situation like this like an adult.  

It's not ever enough

The title should be enough of a description of what I'm going to write, but I will expound on the meaning behind the title. Yesterday I took her to the airport after having ten wonderful blissful days together. It's never enough time together to satisfy both of our longings and need for each other. In just 3 short months we will say our vows and become each other's wife. Before that milestone happens, my youngest will graduate high school. She will be the last one and then it's off to bigger and brighter things for her future.  It's only been a day and I'm an emotional basket case. Every time we have to say good-bye, the part of me that I need to be with gets ripped away again. The only thing that will heal this wound that gets reopened every time we have to part is for us to be together forever.  Don't get me wrong I know we will have some struggles along the way, but every couple does. It's what strengthens and builds a strong relationship. We have been doing this now for four and a half years. We've done well and long may our relationship last. Once we are married however we won't be able to be together yet. I still have to come home and work for another half a year or more until I can make enough to have some money to take with me when I move over there next year. Life will be much different than what I've been used to in the U.S. when I move over to the U.K. and there will be adjustments that will have to be made. I won't be coming back home after two weeks once I move over there I will be there. It's a huge change for me. My family will be here in the U.S. and my kids will all be here in the U.S. and I will have to get a job and still be sending money home to help out my youngest while she's going through college and figuring out her next path in life. I'm looking forward to beginning our lives together as a couple. Waking up to each other, having disagreements and laughing about them later, being woken up by a cat sitting on my stomach or a dog trying to nudge me off the bed. I've already settled it that I will be the one to clean up the mess after meals are made because I'm shit in the kitchen but have better talents utilized elsewhere. I like where our house is and I love the location. There are scenic views all around and a famous person buried in the graveyard that's across the street. So cool to be living there. I'm looking forward to cooler summers because I've lived in the heat all my life. I prefer cooler weather. I mean don't get me wrong, I'll miss the pool and swimming but I won't miss the heat and humidity. I'd rather be a little bit chilly than sweaty and hot all the time. I have the air on right now because it's a little warm outside. I'm looking forward to going on walks with her and the dog and adjusting to being a step-mom to her daughter.  I will miss my little space that I spend most of my time in here in my bedroom, but we'll sort things out and make a space for me so that I will feel comfortable. Just to clarify I will feel comfortable anyhow because we will finally have our home and be together in one place. Hopefully everything will come together and on our date in July we'll be saying I DO. I may get a chance to see her again in October but if not it will be another 6 months after we say I Do that I will see her again. My heart is aching and longing for her tonight as I write this and watch her sleeping.





Hi Ladies

SPOILER ALERT: If affairs and cheating are going to trigger you, this isn't the post for you. Sorry!!!  Also, this is long. Like Super long, So either settle in, or move along... On the bright side if you happen to be an insomniac late night scrolling..... you may fall asleep before the end. Haha 

I have just found my way back to this site, after quite a long period away from it, and reading my old posts it all feels so far away from where we are now. I am still married to my husband, who is a wonderful loving and patient man. We are still hoping to find a girlfriend to share in our love and life. Hopefully this possibility opens more, not less, with the passage of time as the children get older and require less from us. Our youngest is only 8 at the time of writing this though, so we still have considerable time left before she has any form of life of her own. 

So, nothing ever did eventuate between myself and the braless flirty friend with whom I was feeling "hopeful." Haha In fact, sadly, our friendship didn't last because in the end I felt she was using me, playing games and exploiting my feelings for her. On the other hand, teacher did come back into my life, which surprised me hugely, I thought that was done and dusted. It wasn't easy to navigate, and I can't lie and say we are completely healthy with one another, a few unhealthy patterns still exist between us, and I'm not completely sure I'm over her. I mean, I am, but were she to try something, I couldn't promise I wouldn't go there. In any case, we have developed healthy attachments too at this point, and I do feel like she is one of my closest friends at the moment. I am grateful for second chances there, however as far as I know she remains 100% heterosexual and not interested in me. Lol She is going through IVF to have a baby on her own, and I will be interested to see if her becoming a mother impacts our bond in any way. I still don't expect a romantic relationship. 

Anyway, at some point after this I guess, we met Nurse. We started chatting to her online and eventually agreed to meet up. Nurse didn't really look like her pictures, to be honest, she knew how to work the camera angles to say the least, but I actually liked her more in person. Her body wasn't perfect and I prefer that because mine sure isn't. I took her out, and she held my hand proudly in public, introduced me to her friends and seemed really into me. She also spent time with hubby alone, although not as much as with me, and the relationship seemed to work.... except she didn't want kids, and to be honest didn't seem to like ours. That was always going to be an issue because we are a family so if you want to be part of that life, there is no avoiding it. Example we were planning to take her on a cruise with us, but she didn't want us to take the kids. I understand this, surely it would be better without them... but we have nobody who is going to watch them so we can take our lover on holiday! haha I wish! Lol 

Anyway, that wasn't the reason it ended, although it would have been, ultimately had something else not ended it first. Her ex came into the picture and caused drama's, there was broken trust, and after that she seemed to spend more time apologising for letting us down than making it up to us. She stood me up at least once, and cancelled hubbys birthday celebration trip away in favour of a trip with said ex boyfriend. Although she was open minded, I think essentially she decided a relationship with just one person was better for her than with a couple. (I realise I make us sound blameless in this story, which is unfair on her. Due to our responsibilities at home, we were often unflexible, and uninteresting to someone who wanted to party etc....)

I was upset at the loss of that relationship for what it represented more than the person as such. It lasted around 6 months. I know.... half a year? But it gave me hope that with the right person maybe it could work because there wasn't really too many jealousy issues there or anything, it worked well. We all enjoyed our alone time and our threesomes. Hehe  It spurred me on to find someone else. 

I joined a dating site for lesbians, essentially, and I met Postie. Postie was a wonderfully attractive lesbian, although she lived with her male partner also. I was so thrilled to meet someone in a similarly complicated situation. Although I always wondered if Postie was attracted to me, I didn't feel I was good enough for her, and so we never took it there. She did try to a few times when she was drunk... but the fact that she needed beer goggles before I was naked filled me with fear. Anyway, postie and I became very close friends for a while and to this day I miss her alot. Postie was still on the dating sites too and I enjoyed her stories of relationships with different women, although I was jealous that she could have those relationships with women to herself and not share them with her man. women dropped at her feet. It was amazing to watch. Postie was a player! Lol It was very interesting to see, however I didn't realise it was jading my opinions of her and I was probably unfairly judging her. In the end she met Clerk. Her and Clerk were just friends, and she introduced me to Clerk too. Clerk and I became friends. Clerk was not a player, she was sweet and gentle in nature like me and I felt she heard the things I did not say. She understood me. I loved Clerk easily and quickly. Nothing ever happened between Clerk and I, aside from harmless flirting, for 2 main reasons. Firstly Clerk was a gold star lesbian, which I learned means has never been with a man and never intends to be with one. So she could not be what I hoped. Secondly, Clerk was pretty taken with Postie. Although they were only friends and Postie told me multiple times all the reasons whys she would never date Clerk romantically, and how Clerk was not good enough for her... eventually they hooked up anyway. Postie asked me to lie to Clerk on several occassions and eventually I had to remove myself from that situation because I did not believe Postie was going to be good to Clerk. Postie and I argued about something trivial, and very nasty words were spoken on both sides, until no words were ever spoken again. I lost Clerk in the battle too. My Facebook stalking indicates that they are still happy and very much in love, over a year later, so maybe I misjudged that situation and let go of 2 very meaningful friendships over nothing. I regret not minding my on business. 

Alas, I stayed on the sites and eventually met Bellydancer. Bellydancer is stunning, but again, out of my league, besides which I don't think we have enough in common to sustain more than a friendship nor the emotional capacity that each of us requires. Bellydancer had a husband too, but over the time I have known her she has separated from him and pursued women exclusively. I value her as she is open minded. She has dated couples before although isn't currently interested in men at all. 

I was talking to one of my straight friends about Bellydancer and how disappointing it was that Bellydancer and I couldn't have more spark, as I was attracted to her and she has dated couples. On paper it seemed to have potential. My friend, Life Coach, seemed very curious and interested in our situation and began flirting with me. It seemed she saw Bellydancer as competition even though I was clear nothing was happening there. Coach had recently lost lots of weight and had some surgery to help her feel better about her body. I suspect she liked the attention and was getting her quota of all the attention she missed out on when she was younger. Coach has a husband, however they were on rocky terms as he had recently caught her cheating. That doesn't make what happened next ok, and I know that. Hubby and I embarked on an affair with coach for about a year. While I wasn't cheating on my husband, it was an affair in that her husband did not know about it. It was not heavily sexual as she had alot of guilt about her marriage and many body issues. I think she justified to herself that being with me was not cheating as I am female, and being with him didn't count if he didn't penetrate her. (I think that only ever happened once although they kissed and were intimate in all the other ways)  It was a strange affair, heavily emotional, dysfunctional sexual, and intermittently overly affectionate. It met her need for attention and met my need for intimacy with a woman. (NOTE Her previous affair was similarly dysfunctional and she blamed him for being with a married woman. She took no responsibility for her choices. You can guess how this became relevant later, right? Yeah. I saw it coming, although that doesn't make it easier!) 

At first my husband was ok with things, but as she gradually pulled away from him he became increasingly jealous and despondent about me seeing her alone, even on non sexual terms. This was difficult to navigate as she was my friend and we had always enjoyed time together alone before this. She really pulled away after my birthday weekend in August, where we went away together but did not get intimate because my husband was very ill and I had just had surgery and then put my back out. I think she felt very rejected by this, and I regret the timing of it all but it couldn't be helped. I tried hard to maintain something and sometimes we were friends and sometimes we were more than friends.... and the uncertainty ruffled me. I couldn't deal with it - I found I'd spend our meetings together longing for her to take my hand, while she didn't seem to even notice I existed. I would try and hold her hand but increasingly she rejected it. We went to the outdoor cinema and she ignored my advances and told me about a woman who had kissed her that weekend when she was drunk. I did wonder if I was meant to be jealous, but she made it seem like this advance was unwelcome and so we laughed it off... I wasn't sure how to feel. I took her on a date to a dayspa and when I tried for the final time to be intimate with her she said there were cameras and I was making her uncomfortable. (She hadn't cared about this earlier in our entanglement) I chose to take the hint that the relationship had run it's course. I cried that whole week but vowed not to make her tell me she didn't want me anymore, as it may break our friendship and she shouldn't have to feel guilty for her feelings. The next time we caught up she told me she had never felt happier. It was a kick in the guts. I pulled back emotionally. 

Coach felt this. She was angry with me at one point even snapping and calling me a lazy mole. I laughed that off too, but I wasn't sure why she was so angry with me when it appeared she was the one who didn't want this anymore and was saying hurtful things while I was trying my hardest to protect our friendship at great expense to myself. The last time we saw each other she informed me she was getting with a friend from work and her husband. She told me how they fooled around and she lost her earring and how she was hoping to plan sleepovers with this other woman now that her husband was working away. Finally it all made sense, why she had lost interest in me, although why she is angry with me is still unclear. She blames me I guess.  We have a standing catch up, weekly. I was dreading the last one because I felt she was only going to tell me about this new couple and their kinky weekend together, but then she cancelled on me.  This was a relief. We hardly spoke after that. I did see her pull into my driveway and creep back to the car and quickly drive away to deliver my son's birthday card. I thanked her for it without mentioning I saw her deliver it without saying hello. She knew I was home. That hurt. She spoke about her upcoming holidays, didn't ask how I was and we ended the conversation. Today was our 8 year friendship anniversary on Facebook, and neither of us chose to acknowledge it.

I write an anonymous blog  about friendships because I am aware that I have issues with friendships (all the above have failed and that can't be normal! Lol) and I wrote a post about how it is hard to go from being friends with benefits to friends without benefits and she put a sad face on it. I thought maybe that meant she wasn't angry with me anymore, maybe she could empathize that she was hurting me.... we are meant to catch up tomorrow. Neither of us has cancelled - perhaps due to our friendship anniversary, but the fact we chose not to acknowledge it says it all - there is no friendship left there now. I suspect tomorrow will pass and we may never speak again. Sigh. Not for a very long time anyway. This may be better than having an angry ending that is hard to recover from, I'm not sure. 

I guess this is my karma for embarking on an affair with her in the first place, and I will accept accountability for that. She wasn't mine to have, she promised me nothing and that is exactly what she delivered. I will not tell her husband about this or anything like that. I have talked to my husband about it because the sleepover thing bothered me. Even if she had wanted me to sleep over with her, he would not have been ok with that. It has become clear that while I feel secure enough within our marriage to introduce other women and trust he will still choose me, he is filled with dread that I will prefer her, that I will leave him for her, or become resentful if he tries to stop me seeing her. On some level this is valid, however the reason we are doing it this way is so that I don't have to lie, so that I can have both partners and have his blessing to meet the needs in me that a woman can, emotionally, physically and mentally. I don't want him stopping me from seeing her, I want to be free to choose and for them to do the same, which I know will sometimes mean I am also not chosen. 

So, I am still on the sites, looking for a girlfriend for us to share. Someone who wants me and not just my attention. Options are limited and it will probably be a very long time before we meet anyone again. But I am still hopeful, we have learned so much from this, and for now I know I need to find ways to assure my husband that I want this with him not instead of him. Life has no guarantees, but I have no plans of leaving him for a woman. I suspect if I were single, my quest for a woman would be much simpler, it might be easier to leave him and find a her for myself. But that isn't what I want.  

I guess for now I will just have to keep watching You Me Her on Netflix and living vicariously! Lol Who else is loving that show?!!! 

If you made it this far, thanks for reading. I guess I really just needed to get that all out. I hope next time I read this, all of this will seem like a silly memory from a very long time ago like my previous posts do now! 

If this triggered you and you hate me now for the affair, I apologise. I did warn you! 

<3 Kat xx

PS Yes, I am still looking for new platonic friends too. Sexuality non heterosexual preferred but not essential!