The second sex post

You read right. If you’re shy, look away now. Although, being honest, it’s probably a 12 rating at best.

My last, and ironically first, sex post charted unknown territory – phone sex. What a success that was! We have partook in that particular activity a few times now. Honestly, not as often as part of me would like.

The last time, we ended with our usual kisses and I love you’s and he said he would call later. Except later turned out to be about five minutes or so later. And I was still a little flushed. We laughed about it and he called me his bad girl. I suppose it is bad but it’s soooo good too.

But as I said, the problem is now that every time he calls me – rather than video chat – which he has taken to doing some mornings, my body kind of expects it to happen again. His voice does delicious things to me anyway but then the memory of past experiences… Well, you get the idea. So, I’m on the phone in eager anticipation. He’s half asleep and talking sporadically, and then the call ends. I’ve no idea if he’s waiting for me to start, if he isn’t interested or what. I don’t expect it every time but, you know, now and again would be very nice.

And this week it has got worse. I’m not sure if it is because I should have been with him this week but… He is just taking my breath away. Videochat camera opens and bang… Instant physical and uncontrolled reaction. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing. I’ve said it before, he often calls me as he is going about his every day chores. Like washing when he comes in from the outside, me propped up against the mirror. Or when he is on his laptop, listening to music. It doesn’t matter what he is doing. It just hits me: my breath catches, my heart bounds, my stomach flips. Sometimes he is oblivious to what’s going on in my head and he asks me why I am looking at him like that. I tell him I’m just loving him or I tell the truth sometimes and says he looks good (which he then denies). Other times he is well aware of the effect we are having on each other and he quickly snaps us both out of it (erm, phone sex???)

This week I can’t seem to get through a call without it happening. And the problem is, I’m having to avert my gaze to hide it. It’s the only way I can hide my amorous and uncontrolled reactions and not come across as completely sex crazed. (Which I’m beginning to think I am.) But then, he thinks something is wrong or I’m bored which means he either starts asking what’s bothering me or ends the call. Neither reaction the one I’m wanting. So whilst I’m happy that I’m starting to be able to hide my desire from my far too readable face, I’ve got to find a way of being able to do that whilst still looking at him. Sigh.

I suppose this is really normal in the context of a new relationship. If we lived closer and were having actual dates then I guess quite a few of them – OK, all of them – would end up in the bedroom.

My goodness, long distance relationships are hard.

Advertisement

The sharing, the look, the love.

The share… A mixture of feelings. Intrepidation as I walk through the garden because I try to see it with fresh eyes, their eyes. I want them to love it which is bizarre in itself as they may never get to see it in person. A sobering thought.

After, I hastily show them as it was: pictures of long ago, of a time when my father would be seen daily with his hoe or his wheelbarrow. His mother smiles and compliments and I am happy.

What are they thinking? Why does it matter so much? Why did he want me to show them?

The call ends, for now.

The look… Later, we are laughing again. He pauses in his mimicry and mischievousness to look at me, eyes crinkled in a smile. I know that look, love that look, as I know it mirrors mine. He disappears for a moment and then when he returns I watch him. I’m always watching him.

He’s preparing some food and whilst he does, a look of such intensity passes his face. In the hours and hours of my study of his face this look is new. At first it excites: it shows off his deep dark eyes well, his full lips pursed invitingly. But, within moments, my attraction is forgotten. I sense that this face is not as it should be.

I ask if he is OK, and he says yes but I know better.

We walk to his room and he lies down, his head resting on his hand, on his pillow. There is sadness on his face.

And so the dance begins… The to and fro, the questions and answers, the hiding and seeking. Eventually he tells me.

As he was talking with me, he had remembered something he had watched on the news earlier that day. It had come to him and replayed in his mind and had made him sad. He asked if I wanted to see and I agreed because I wanted to understand this transformation in him.

I watch. The boy, small and slight, frightened and alone, is led out of the house. The picture is fuzzy but you can see the little mask on his face. The paramedics are gentle, caring, as he is lifted into the ambulance. Another follows with his bags. Despite this care, there is the knowledge that this little boy is now alone, at 4 years, carrying a virus that he may not survive.

My heart aches for the boy. As a mother…as a human being, you cannot help be touched by that video and all its implications.

But my heart aches for my man too. For his grief. For the way the memory of that video could transform him, so quickly. My heart fills with love for this affectionate and compassionate man and I wish, more than anything, that I could be with him so that my love could pour into him and soothe his pain.

Another day, another ending.

The share… He is lying on his bed again and we are talking. His mother enters and sits with him. He begins to translate. I watch his face as he turns to her, listens, concentrating, and I can hear the lilt and tumble of those words and sounds that I can not understand but love so much. He turns to me then and translates and I write down his instructions.

This carries on for a little while. Occasionally I ask questions, sometimes he mimes to clarify. I’m filled with pride for him as he explains in a language he claims he is not good at but I know better. Hours of us talking every day have helped him and I am proud of that too. Equally though, I can see the concentration on his face and the occasional frustration too.

“You know I get nervous when I have to talk like that and I am trying to listen to my mother and then find the words to tell you. It’s exhausting.” He sees my smile, my laugh and says “but you like it though, don’t you? You like seeing me like that?” He laughs himself but the chance to reply or explain is taken from me as the call has to end abruptly.

The look… Later. Another call. Laughter, laughter, laughter. My sides ache, tears run down my face… And yet, I still see that moment. The moment when he is laughing too, uncontrollably, so much so that he pauses his performance and we just laugh together.

And although he is laughing too, I know this is all for me. I see it in the way he watches me, his smiles at my laughter. He continues until I can barely breathe.

But then he tires and so do I. The joking slows. His head rests on his hand, on his pillow. And at that moment I am overwhelmed. He looks at me with such intensity and love. My heart fills with love and it aches to be near him, my body to touch him, my love to pour into him. I’ve never wanted him so much in all our time together… Our bodies and souls to connect physically as they have just done mentally in our shared laughter.

“What’s this face? I’ve not seen this face before. Tell me what’s on your mind..” and the dance begins, the to and the fro, the questions and answers. I don’t tell him but the explanation is not needed anyway. Within seconds he tells me: knowing me and reading me with ease, as he always does.

As the day before, the call ends with love.

“I love you, so much baby” His voice is soft and a little gruff and the sound and sight of his kisses threaten to overwhelm me.

He watches and waits for mine and I send them, my heart and soul willing for the magic to transport the gesture over time and place so he may feel just a little of what I feel for him.

My worst enemy is…

Definitely myself. Or my errant, spontaneous and often negative, thoughts.

I had an hour long chat yesterday morning with Wild Card before I went shopping. I actually enjoyed shopping for once… Mainly because I discovered I have now dropped three dress sizes. Yes three. So shopping became pleasurable, particularly as I was buying clothes for my trip to see Wild Card which is now less than two weeks away…

I spent the afternoon with my friend, of course dissecting the situation with him. She’s supportive, honest, and not overly negative. She asked more about my thoughts for the future and I just told her that I am enjoying this one step at a time. And I’ve been telling my head that ever since. Can I cope with years of this? What if he doesn’t like me when I get there? Nerves, anticipation, paranoia… Just focus on one step at a time.

Back to being my own worst enemy…

I got home late afternoon and as I hadn’t heard from him all day, sent a message. An hour and a half later there had been no response. I don’t have to say any more do I? My head was jumping to its own conclusions as usual. But, thinking about my recent training, I tried thinking logically and sensibly… He always calls back. He never misses. He has his own life – maybe he was just busy. I’ve missed his texts before! And he’s told me to call when I want… So, I did.

And of course, everything was fine. He was out in the city with his family. His brother was getting his hair cut, so Wild Card took me on a little walk so I could see the surroundings. He kept asking me what I thought. As he got back to the car, he told me he would call me later.

Fifteen minutes later he was calling again, this time showing me a shopping precinct. It was amazing to see it and made me even more excited for my visit. In some ways it clarified my expectations too.

So, my stupid head thought the worst and in return he was as attentive and thoughtful as ever, showing me his world and wanting my opinion on it. He didn’t need to do any of that.

That should be enough, shouldn’t it? How many times does he need to prove those negative thoughts wrong? But oh no, my over active imagination decided to start again today…

I had my usual ‘good morning’ text. So far so good. I got home and the clock steadily worked its way to six and so the anticipation started to build, as usual. My kids are home, so of course their needs come first, so I work to get everything done before he calls. At half six, I sit down and I hadn’t heard anything… And then I heard the familiar ping of my phone.

Butterflies dancing in my stomach, I opened messenger to see that he has sent me a video. I waited, rather impatiently, for it to download.

It was an Ed Sheeran video of ‘Perfect’, with the lyrics in both his first language and English. I think it might be one of the most romantic things he’s done and my heart just swelled. (Read the lyrics and you’ll know what I mean.)

But was he being romantic or was he just sending me a song he liked? If I assume he was being romantic and he wasn’t, it will be really awkward. How to answer… I send a kiss face and said ‘I love that song’. Neutral, I thought.

Ten minutes later… No response. How the hell can he send that and then not respond or even read my message?

Oh. He had sent 45 minutes before it had finally downloaded. Grrrr.

Nothing for it but to call him…. And he’s on the phone.

To who? Obviously another woman. He’s probably sent it to all of us and she responded first. I actually stopped myself at this point. What on earth was I doing? He’s just sent something really romantic and I’m being negative. Again. So I reasoned with myself. He’s told you that he would not sit at home on the phone with another woman when his parents know about me. It’s probably his brother or his friend or something. He will call back.

Which he did. But when I answered, he wasn’t at home. He was out for a walk. Which meant he could have been on the phone to another woman. What the hell is wrong with me?! We spoke very briefly but it was hard to hear so he said he would call me when he got home.

So when he called back he knew instantly, instantly, there was something wrong. Even though I’d given myself a stern telling off for jumping to conclusions. But he knew. It didn’t matter how much I smiled and said I was fine, he kept asking. He said he knew me and I wasn’t acting the same. Did I not like the music he sent me? At this point I had even asked him if he sent it to be romantic. He replied that he loved me and thought about me all the time and he liked the song and found it in our languages… Did I not want him to be romantic? He asked if it was work, my family, had he done something to upset me… He even mentioned the fact he had been on the phone but I did such a good job of saying ‘what?!’ that he changed the subject and kept questioning me. Yeah, because you realised you were not at home… He even pulled the… ‘if you love me and want me, you need to tell me what’s wrong’ tactic.

Sure, I’m going to tell you that I became insanely jealous and paranoid when you’ve done nothing more than be on the phone when I called.

Luckily, for me, at this point my youngest came in to the room and dominated the conversation for a while. And yes, Wild Card is brilliant with him. Swoon.

The conversation ended not long after that as my son needed to go to bed and Wild Card had overheard his Dad in the next room saying something about a bereavement. He blew kisses at me and told me to not be sad. I told him I wasn’t, but clearly I hadn’t convinced him.

What is wrong with me? Really, I mean what is wrong? The facts speak for themselves. I’ve got to stop jumping to conclusions and stick with the facts. I keep hoping that a week with him, confirming that we both feel the same and I will stop worrying so much.

But. My own worst enemy isn’t so sure I can manage a worry free existence.

Morning reflections.

I’ve been up since 4.30am with two vomiting children. Now they’re settled and there is no point in me trying to go back to sleep, it’s given me time to think.

I’m conscious that my last few posts have mainly centred on Wild Card. Don’t think that is because I like him more than Second. My life is never that simple.

I’ve questioned myself about that. I still believe that I like them both but in different ways.

With Wild Card I feel excited and passionate when we talk. He makes me laugh. I’m intrigued by him. But I don’t altogether trust him either which makes me anxious. I can’t believe that he doesn’t have a number of women and I am still surprised that he likes me, although I do believe him when he says he does. You can’t fake some facial expressions. I get the impression that if we were to meet and we liked each other, I would fall hard.

Second is different, culturally as well as feelings wise. He was the front runner for a long time but circumstances – his working at sea for six weeks – has meant that we have only communicated by WhatsApp for the past few weeks. His contact is consistent and regular.

He also makes me laugh – we make each other laugh. We have similar backgrounds and interests. His messages have become more and more affectionate as the weeks have gone on. He is kind and complimentary. And I am attracted to him physically, just slightly less than Wild Card. That’s not a bad thing.

He makes me smile, inside and out. I feel more steady and secure with him, even though there are still no certainties – although he tells me he is certain we will meet.

If the messages, phone calls and video chats are anything to go by, I think we are going to get along well.

But his circumstances are even more difficult than Wild Card’s. Not only does he have a different Nationality to me, which is the reason we have not met yet and won’t do until January (he is spending Christmas at home with his parents), he lives in Scotland and has just bought a house there to be close to his children.

How would a relationship possibly work with him? We live four hours away from each other, when he’s actually in the country and not at sea or visiting his homeland.

So, if anything, I know I’m also wary of falling for him too. The reason I allowed the chats with Wild Card to initiate was to ground my growing interest in Second. Modern dating, remember?

At a friend’s advice, I’ve logged back in to Hinge in attempt to find some more connections to draw myself back into my original ‘flirt and date’ game plan. It’s not working. Despite some interest, I’ve found that I’m half-heartedly messaging back which is unfair to all involved.

The advice I have received on here has been sound and I am grateful for it. I need to keep pulling myself back, enjoy what I have in this moment. I haven’t met either man yet!!! I need to calm down. I’ve had the no-connection dates which had previously held so much promise. There is every chance that a date with either of them would turn into nothing and I am breaking the cardinal rule of no-textationships.

Grounded, grounded, grounded. Live in the moment. Learn and grow. Be open to all possibilities, good and bad.

Wish me luck.

Double trouble

I will admit it. I got myself into a right state yesterday.

By early evening I had barely heard from Wild Card. There had been one short message hours early, then nothing again.

I want to blame hormones, I really do, and in part they are to blame. I was over sensitive, emotional…

But when it got to dinner time and he had still not got into contact, I was anxious. Upset. I couldn’t eat. Still couldn’t concentrate.

I drafted a post on here, more as self therapy than anything else. I tried to look at the lessons I could learn from this. I couldn’t deal with the why, doubt still clouding my judgement. I’m normally good at reading people.

As I sat in front of the fire, music playing and feeling utterly sorry for myself, I decided to phone him myself. I would know then, once and for all. His uncharacteristic silence/sporadic texting would be explained either way and I could go cry into my pillow. (Yes, you read right 😔)

With my heart hammering in my chest, I pressed call. And waited and waited.

And just as I was beginning to lose hope, he answered.

He was clearly tired, half asleep, lights dimmed. He told me he had been travelling today for work and that he had missed me.

We had another great chat, filled with laughter and flirting. And there was no mistaking how he felt about me, I could see it in his eyes. There was a vulnerability about him at one point which was really cute.

Satisfied and sated that he had not disappeared and that there was an actual, genuine reason for his silence today, the video chat ended positively.

Within half an hour, Second had finished his shift and had messaged me.

Strangely, our text chat felt a little different also. I told you that he was guarded in his feelings usually, but since our ‘serious’ chat the other day he has been using terms of endearment and is more complimentary.

Again we laughed together, making each other laugh, and talked about what would happen when we meet. He finally asked me if I was seeing other people. I said no, which is true in a physical sense. I have still not been on any dates. I’m not talking to anyone other than him and Wild Card.

He sent me a photo of himself, taken right there and then, and I swooned. Best picture he had sent me. It was animated, happiness in his eyes, and was like our one and only video chat all those weeks ago. Wow.

What the hell am I doing? What am I going to do?

I realise that I do feel slightly different about them. Second makes me feel more secure even though a relationship with him would be more complicated than with Wild Card.

Wild Card makes me feel passionate. And there’s no doubt that I was grieving yesterday when I thought he had gone.

Double trouble. And I’m starting to feel like a double bitch. Again.

Thoughts anyone? Please be gentle with me.

What women still think

He didn’t reply to my message all night. Didn’t look at either, as far as I can tell. Of course, I can see the bulk of a WhatsApp message through the alert so maybe he saw it and ignored it. Maybe he did want to come round and see me…

After a long and busy day at work (tha nk goodness because that means I’ve been occupied) I check my phone to see that he messaged at 8.21am apologising that he had only just seen the message. He said he was off work today and asked what time I was home.

Was this a good sign? I was probably just thinking far too much into it as usual. I checked the time and said I would be home in half an hour.

The reply was relatively swift: he’d be around soon to collect but it would be a flying visit as he was looking after his nephews.

So he didn’t want to see me then. Or maybe he really couldn’t-it was late after all. I decide either way to remove the torture out of it and offered to drop his stuff off on my way to pick up the kids. He thanked me.

Because I’m back in Looneyville, I call home and pick up his stuff but not before I’ve sprayed deodorant, perfume and eaten a mint. Just in case. Almost impossible, but just in case.

Should I tell him I’m free this weekend? Invite him round? I want that kiss again, those soft lips on mine. Even without that, I just want to be with him. I’ll tell him it’s just as friends – if he even asks – but I can always hope for more. I’m good at that. No, I won’t ask. I will sound too desperate. Maybe he will ask what I’m doing. Still hoping.

I arrive at the house, feeling sick, and walk to the door to find it ajar. His Dad is there doing some work. I hand over the item with all the usual pleasantries and leave. I notice his car isn’t there. Maybe he wasn’t in. Maybe he was actually babysitting.

Maybe I’m never going to learn my lesson. Maybe the only way I will ever get over him is to find his replacement. So what if it took me thirty odd years and a failed marriage to find him? So what if I’ve tried to get over him before by dating other people and it didn’t work?

What other choice have I got?

Strong.

I can be strong.

I can resist.

I can remember the lessons of the past

And refuse the pull of a fictional future.

I can admire from afar

But keep my distance.

I can harden my heart to possibilities

That were never possible –

apart from within my heart.

I can focus on the truth..

The truth I’ve learned the hard way, every time.

His heart connects to mine;

Our minds are so alike;

We inspire the greatest within each other; but,

We will not be together.

Learn.

Take heed.

Live.

Self esteem

As regular readers will know, and anyone who is on the plumpscious side will understand, being overweight seriously messes with your self esteem.

This obviously creates a myriad of problems and for me, in a cruel irony, makes it even less likely for me to lose weight: I’m an emotional Over-eater, a ‘might as well eat it because I’m disgusting already’ and a ‘well, you’ll never be thin so enjoy yourself’ type of a gal.

People tell me that I’m pretty. I’m not sure I believe them. I can’t see past my huge stomach and flabby thighs so how can they?

There are times when life has surprised me though…

I met my first proper boyfriend when I was 17 and I couldn’t believe it when he asked me out. He was older than me, more attractive than me, more confident than me… Yet, he chose me. (In the end, he turned out to be an absolute plonker that broke my heart then stalked me when I’d had enough of being messed about and refused to take him back… But that’s another story.)

Or in my 20s when I went on holiday with friends and I ended up with the holiday fling that everyone fancied. He chose me. I still can’t believe it now and was completely surprised by it then. Sure, that’s all it ever was and ever would be but he picked me.

My trip to Spain last year. The girls joked about how many men had come on to me… I was pretty surprised myself! I still say that it was because I was single and perhaps more open to if but it was a welcome pick-me-up after months of depression.

And then, Lost Soul. Oh Lost Soul! Undeniably attractive to many women I know, six years younger than me, and yet he was attracted to little old fat me.

I’m telling you this, not because I have a big head – it’s actually one of the smallest parts about me – but because I need to remind myself of this occasionally to drag myself out of my self hatred and misery.

I suppose I never really believe that men find me attractive until they openly ask me out or make a move. Sometimes I think someone may be interested but quickly my self doubt kicks in and I end up believing myself to be imagining it.

Take last week. I went on a residential course with a colleague. We entered the room and the host came over to greet us. As he left, my colleague and I looked at each other and said “wow”. He was gorgeous. I noticed, on the second day, that he seemed to looking at me a lot when he spoke to the room. Of course, I wanted to believe that he was attracted to me but I didn’t believe it. Wishful thinking, I thought. He’s looking at you no more than anyone else.

On our way home, my colleague mentioned that she’d noticed him looking at me a lot. I hadn’t imagined it then. Doesn’t mean anything – nothing happened – but it was reassuring to my battered ego.

Ah and there’s my crush, whom I have written about twice now. He is someone I have met through work but who works for a different agency to me. Oh he is delicious. He makes all my nerve endings zing and I’m so drawn to him when he speaks. God I hope he doesn’t notice that.

And when we do speak, there’s little things that he says and does that make me think… Well, daydream. The possibility, the explanation of things he’s said and done. Nothing explicit, nothing in the open, but enough to make me wonder. Like, giving me his personal number instead of his work number. Telling me I can call him whenever.

Am I reading too much into this? Maybe. Maybe this is how stalkers are created. ☺ There’s just something when we speak and I can’t believe it’s just me… A magnetism between us, somehow. Have you ever experienced that?

Anyway, in the high likelyhood that this is entirely in my imagination, all I can say is that I am really enjoying awakening those thoughts and feelings again. It’s making me remember how it feels to be interested in someone again. I like that feeling. I want to feel it again, and reciprocated. Maybe it’s not too late for me, maybe my weight doesn’t matter to some people, even if it does to me.

Maybe this is the positive jolt I need to start looking after myself again. To find love again. I need to keep reminding myself that I’m not as grotesque as I think I am.

Crush

You’ve awoken feelings in my head and body,

Feelings long forgotten.

Feelings I questioned had even existed.

My mind has floated on daydreams all day;

Imagining the impossible.

Although it is you that has awoken this sleeping entity within me,

and you that I fantasise about as my mind wanders pleasurably,

It’s the incredulity that I can still feel this, think this, imagine this

About anyone

That’s the most astounding aspect of this…

Crush.

https://startingfromthemiddleblog.wordpress.com/2018/11/09/possibilities/

Why happiness is mine to accept

To understand this post, you may want to read the previous one first! https://startingfromthemiddleblog.wordpress.com/2018/02/11/why-am-i-depressed/

I have a good job, a nice home and three beautiful and healthy children.

My dad has survived lung cancer and his prostate cancer is in remission. He is still with us.

My relationship with my mum has improved. She is happy and I know she will always be there if I need her.

Never say never. The job I have now is suitable for my situation on the whole. I get time off with my children. My job is enjoyable and challenging and I am good at it. There will be time for change in the future when the moment is right.

My children know they are loved. They know they can depend on me. They may not have as much as some but they have more than others. They are polite and well mannered and have a healthy interest in reading and history and technology, of course.

Happiness is not just for those in a relationship. I can be happy without a man. But at the same time, love could be on the horizon til the day I die.

At least I know that the connection exists. Somewhere, out there is another connection – so strong that nothing will keep us apart.

I tried my best to keep my marriage alive. What I have now are lots of happy memories, three beautiful children and a much better relationship with their dad.

As I write, I am an able bodied woman with no major health concerns other than the need to lose weight. It could be worse.

Life can be good if we open our eyes to it.