My funny Valentine

Is his figure less than greek..?

Naked man - My funny valentine - sexy

Is his mouth a little weak..? When he opens it to speak, is he smart….?

Yes he is. My wonderful sexy husband. With his big heart and warm brown eyes. His physically big head, that he had to order a special helmet to fit, after I had insisted that he would always protect his wonderful brain when riding his bike.

So – don’t change a hair for me, not if you care for me.

My funny valentine - naked man - vintage

Because I love him so, his incredible body, his proud chest, his strong arms. His grumpiness, his worrying. And his patience with me when I am difficult, or crying, or overenthusiastic expectantly jumping on him as soon as he comes in the door tired from a 12 hour day of work.

I am so happy, and so lucky!

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The fear

Are we still married…?

Yeah. For the past three days my husband has been distant, as he has been so tired and overwhelmed with school and work, and he has had allergy reactions that have taken over. I told him last night how I felt, really gently and just said that I needed to know that it had nothing to do with me, although I already kind of knew. It’s like that when you’re close to someone. I had been patient for days, and initiated every sex session, and not gotten much loving or tenderness. He apologized and reassured me, and the result now is a tired husband who is trying to overcompensate.. Hahah. It’s so cute. And I just told him that it’s okay and he can do what he wants to do to relax and wind down – whatever he needs, but I appreciate the compliments. He’s got the TV to himself and ordered a pizza, sitting there watching a game, happily shutting his brain off. I love him so much. We are so good.

But in my mind things are whirring. My niece as I’ve formerly written about posted a blog post last night which was disturbing but heartfelt and really well written. She was released from the hospital a week ago, where she had gotten a lot of care and therapy. But she hadn’t been able to open up. The structure and care was very comforting, so she was clinging to the warmth of that and not wanting to delve into the darkness. So again, coming home to my tired, sleep-depraved mother she fell back into a black hole. And she wrote in her blog that before the institutionalization, she had it all written down, how, where and when it would happen, – how she would kill herself. Just reading that made me shiver, she is better now, but knowing that she had gotten that far with her thoughts are terrifying, and it takes me back to when I was living with fear for 11 years, when her father, my brother was suicidal and very very sick. I still remember the day when my mum found him dead VERY very cleary. The feeling. The smells in the air. Everybody’s faces. And how my dad was NOT there for me. And my niece…. And now, six years later, I am dreading every phone call from my mother, far far away where I can’t reach them. What if this will be the call? Where she says that my niece is dead?

You might think that it’s silly to think like this, but when it happens to you, the fear is always there, and you KNOW that anyone can die at any time… you can loose anyone, it can happen to YOU. I am trying, believe me, to keep my thoughts in check. And t not let it become what I had before. I don’t want that again… The fear of my brother dying was taken over by an enormous grief of loosing him and depression, insomnia, struggle and anger. And now years down the line, I still battle all those things. Less, but still. But at least I am not living with that fear.

I fear other things. My biggest fear is to loose my mother. I can’t live without her. Not now… I need more time. I still feel like a child. And I am scared. I need her. And I am so scared of getting sick. Cancer. I am so scared of cancer. ALL my grandparents had it. And my mom hasn’t gotten it yet, she is 62. So either it’s coming or it skipped a generation. Me… is it coming for me? All this worrying about cancer might just give me cancer. Since I can remember I have been battling fear. I am sure most people are. But most people I know aren’t as scared as me. And when they are they deal with it in ways that I don’t even touch. I don’t drink alcohol, and I haven’t tasted it since I was eight. I don’t do drugs, and I don’t hide from my feelings. I confront them, and I work through it, sometimes it is almost impossible, but I have managed through a hell of a lot without any medication or sleeping pills. People are different, so I guess I am lucky to be able to do this. I’ve mastered my brain. Although I loose control of it and my emotions often, I never let go. I keep fighting. I just hope my niece can do the same. She is stronger than me, but she has also been through a hell of a lot more and WORSE than me.

Let’s all keep battling our fears, and hold on to the seconds of happiness that we get here and there. And I will keep being grateful. For not missing any limbs. For having all my senses. For not having cancer. For being married to the love of my life.

Purr purr purr

catwoman

I am a Happy Kitty…

Days go by as I constantly work on creating work for myself, going on business meetings with potential clients, cook dinner for my husband, keep the apartment clean, go to classes, go to the gym and lay me down to watch me some movies and enjoy my opportune hours to choose to be lazy instead. I am getting better at laying around a little. I know that I am doing what I can to move things forward, so I don’t feel like I am wasting time or being lazy, and my husband has been in a better mood lately, and supported me in my failures, and cheered me on when I work towards something. I know it’s a 50/50 – Me allowing myself to treat myself (WHILE I CAN) and HIM being supportive and not giving me a jealous and slightly bitter attitude when I have had a nice relaxing day. This enables me to enjoy myself more and not be bitter either, when I do all the wifey housework things that was my nightmare to end up doing ever since I was a little girl, but I’ll do it for HIM. Because I love him, and I want to make things easier for him. That is kind of my contribution as I am not really contributing evenly financially.

Making him a packed lunch for him to pick up after school before work, keep the house clean and tidy so he can come home feeling relaxed and space out in peace. Cook him dinner to come home to at night after a 12 hour long day. Rub his back and sometimes his feet when he is exhausted. Give him a blow job before work, or before school to perk him up. Send him some lovely texts during the day that require no answer. Understanding that some nights after a whole day of school and work, and us not having seen each other, that he’ll not want to hang out, only some sex and cuddling, silence, and leaving him to do his own things, homework, Fantasy football, reading the news, masturbating, playing madden. Some HIM time. Keeping myself busy and happy, so he doesn’t have to worry about entertaining me .

It has gotten a lot better, in the beginning we had been apart in a long distance relationship for almost a year, not seeing each other in the Flesh – at all. Meaning NO SEX for either of us for that whole time, and communicating only via post, email, skype and texts. Our love lasted and grew stronger, and when I finally got here through an excruciating process, leaving my familiar and beloved Europe behind, my family, friends and my plans. For HIM. I wanted every second of the day with him, I wanted to squeeze every second for all the romance and intensity I could get, that I had longed for, that I had waited for. But it didn’t take long for him to start needing more space for himself, which broke my heart. It was a disappointment. I started doubting us. Yeah yeah, people are different, but I think that when you really love someone you’ll want to be with them all the time..bla bla bla…. but after a while, some passionate arguments, fights, I learned and came to accept that we are different, and love each other the same, on the same level, but a little differently. And He didn’t ask for much. He needed to get used to me too, having me there all the time, and me to him, our mood-swings, habits, buttons and laundry detergent. And we did. We do spend a hell of a lot of time together. He always chooses me. Hang out with friends, go out, stay behind at work with his coworkers drinking, -no. He comes home. To me. Cycles happily with the helmet I insisted he’d buy and wear, that makes him look like an idiot. To see, me. To hold me. And THAT’s what I want. It makes me purr.

I am glad and willing to push him out the door to hang out with friends more, and he is so positively surprised when I do. Of course!! Friends are so important. He doesn’t have friends on the level I do, not here, he’s not like me. But his buddies, are nice for him to have, so they can watch sports together and all those typical manly things. And the result is, which also pleases me, he misses me. And when he comes home he’s all over me. And I play casual and hard to get…ahhhh Im so in love! It’s sunday, and I am going to a party with some friends tonight. He’s been up since early this morning to catch every single football game. He’s exhausted from standing (!) in front of the TV, running back and forth to his fantasy football league on his computer all day. Now he’s snoozing away, and I look over at his chunky thighs and meaty buttocks… I love him. And he loves me. We are growing, we are learning, our love… is evolving. And as long as we are as passionate for each other as we are, because that is what this kitty needs, I will never give up.

Perfection

I am following in Dawn D‘s footsteps and being inspired by OctPoWriMo, and today’s word was, PERFECT. These are the thoughts that were triggered for me.

I have met women, girls and cats, that I thought were close, to perfect.

My mother always said to me, that nobody is perfect, and the definition of perfect changes quickly, as quickly as a decade, sometimes only a year.

Therefore when I met the women, girls and cats, that I thought were close, to perfect,

I knew they really weren’t and somehow that made me smile.

When I was little, there was a girl in my class. All the boys saw her and all the girls loved her, and she was so pretty, sporty and smart, she always finished her math tasks first, and had lots of friends. I thought she must be perfect, since everybody wants to copy her, but I am not like her, not one little bit, then what am I, if that is perfection?

Imperfect.

When I became a young woman, I came to know a young woman, she was a year under me in school, and she was so perfect. Her short platinum blonde hair, perfect on her perfect head. Her stunning face, with light makeup, collar bones, glowing skin, womanly beautiful body. She was funny, talented and had a unique style, I was blown away, to the point of obsession, a girl crush, the wonder, how did she do it? Why was she this flawless? Everyday?

And what was I? Next to her?

Cats are so perfect, their bodies so strong, sleek and flexible, their faces are stunning and so god damned cute. They jump and stretch and purr when they’re happy and lay in the sun with a grin on their face.

I wish I was a cat.

But I knew all along, and I still know it true.

The little girl I once knew, She wasn’t perfect, she was spoiled, she manipulated, took advantage of her assets and hurt people’s feelings. It made her imperfect, it made her foul. And now she is plane, boring and uninteresting. Maybe she’ll learn, like I did.

The young woman I still know, she had her teeth done, the two corner teeth in her pearly white smile, were crooked and made her the most unique face ever. Now her teeth are straight, and her face slightly less interesting, I loved that “imperfection” but vanity got her. I know she’s not perfect, but she is a good person. The pressure of looking like this and that, it affects her, as much as it does me.

The cat, it is dead. It used it’s nine lives. It purred, jumped, screeched, scratched, played and made my life so good. But it’s gone now, his kidney failed him, and he had to go to sleep. But he reminds me of how someone, and something can be perfect to me, to you and to all.

Perfect is a vague word, it’s flawed and ever-changing. But it’s handy for a situation, a moment, a second,

when you’re truly happy, and all worries are gone, when someone looks indescribable, or it lands, hand in glove. Perfection, I’ve felt it, I’ve seen it, I’ve stroked it. But it never stays the same.