Archive for the real life Category

perfection

Posted in cusak, real life with tags , , on Mon, 26 Jan, 2009 :: 25/05 :: 23:02:13 +0000 by anaïs' little sister

His pillow, faintly permeated with the smell of his cologne. I pressed my nose to it, clinging to the last vestiges of the weekend we might have spent together, if his work hadn’t taken him away. A manly job, an earthy job, the wielding of knives. The faint salt sea clinging to him beneath the overwhelming aura of fish.

And I, curled up in this bed we shared, a bed that felt more his than mine, as our entire life did, wondered what would have been different. If I had loved someone else, someone more refined, less rugged. Someone whose drink of choice was the martini and not a beer.

But here, right here, in this nameless place, as I writhed with a hand between my legs, inhaling the scent of his cologne, I knew it couldn’t be traded.

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bruises

Posted in real life with tags on Wed, 10 Dec, 2008 :: 344/50 :: 22:59:58 +0000 by anaïs' little sister

I haven’t had much to write recently. I will attempt to end the radio silence this weekend.

For now, I shall simply keep poking my bruises.

romance

Posted in cusak, real life, thoughts with tags on Mon, 08 Dec, 2008 :: 342/50 :: 13:26:56 +0000 by anaïs' little sister

Sometimes I wonder where my Prince Charming is.

Don’t get me wrong, I love both my boys very much…but every so often I want a white horse, shiny armor, and a sunset. I, however, have to come to grips with the idea that this is an unrealistic fantasy.

The boys send gifts. They take out the trash. They let me watch the movies I want to watch, and don’t even complain when it takes me an hour to get ready…to go to the grocery store. They love me, and they’re in love with me, and they do everything they can to show me and make me happy.

Which is why I feel like I sound like an ungrateful loser for whining about this.

Cusak points out that he’s got romantic plans in the wings, that we’re waiting for financial instability to pass. But some part of me is pretty sure that given that we both like our creature comforts, and that supporting two adults in an apartment is pretty expensive, that statement is a bit like saying “I’ll get to it about when the sky turns green.” I’ve never been good with the “wait for Christmas” mentality, and it’s much like that on a cosmic scale.

It seems greedy to want this, when the sex is good and I don’t have any complaints about his living habits. I feel like I’m telling myself I should settle, only it isn’t settling if I think he’s mostly perfect…right?

Right.

I’m just a whiny princess who needs to get the hell over herself.

age

Posted in real life, thoughts with tags on Sun, 02 Nov, 2008 :: 306/44 :: 14:09:34 +0000 by anaïs' little sister

I have a complicated relationship with aging. When I was a child, precocious and unreasonable, I was much older than the years biologically assigned to me. Given the vagaries of my troubled childhood, this comes as less than a surprise to most who meet me.

Now, in my “adulthood” I regularly find I’m the youngest person in a room. My best friend, the same age as I (or perhaps younger, I can never quite remember) is emotionally so much older than I that in some ways seeing her next to me is like picturing a 30 year old next to a teenager. (I envy that she has her shit that together…I certainly don’t.)

This meandering is a long way of getting to the fact that I’m celebrating my birthday today. (Hence the pot noodle ruminations of a day or two ago.) I’m conflcited as to whether or not I’m enjoying being older, but the birthday itself can’t be knocked.

minutia

Posted in cusak, real life with tags , on Thu, 30 Oct, 2008 :: 303/44 :: 13:19:14 +0000 by anaïs' little sister

Sometimes I’m dreadfully uninteresting. I occasionally write in here from the fishbowl (my affectionate name for the reception area at my job, behind which I sit eight hours a day, like the proverbial fish on display) during my lunch break, or a late afternoon lull. Today I’m doing so while eating an instant rice noodle bowl, and drinking a vitamin water. I told you, uninteresting.

I wish, sometimes, that my life had the sensual cachet of she who I have cast myself after, Ms. Nin. I wish I could make this noodle bowl interesting, this vitamin water leap out of the page and into your own mouth. I wish I could write about how it’s all related for me, the sensuality and the sexuality. But you have to take my word for it. I’m a creature of feelings, not of rationality.

Sitting at work today, as I type away at the keyboard, engage in the pointless paper game of filing, I fantasize instead about being at home. I paint a picture for myself of the delicious treat of my birthday, someone to eat cake in bed with me, someone to touch me just so. These fantasies all resolve themselves into images of drawn out play, lingering seductions that start at waking, and gently tease me through the day. Like the slowest unwrapping of a gift, each word and glance and touch laden with promise, sending the tiniest sparks of pleasure through my skin and mind.

I find refuge from my own boredom at least.

toys

Posted in real life, thoughts with tags , on Mon, 27 Oct, 2008 :: 300/44 :: 20:56:07 +0000 by anaïs' little sister

I’ve been trying to frame into words this desire. This fantasy. The lingering needs and wants tangling themselves into a knot and burying themselves in my core.

I want him to dress me, to pose me. To put my hair just so, and part my lips gently with his thumb, to tell me to stare glassy eyed at the television, or the wall, or whatever happens to be in front of me until he wants to play with me again. I want to be taken into public, and given only the basics of movement and speech. Enough to laugh at his jokes, or agree with his comments. To stand and sit and walk.

To be set on the bed, and feel the pressure of his hands, perhaps even the faint warmth. To be so perfect at the game we’re playing that I can hold still as he brushes a nipple lightly, or circles my clit with a fingertip. To be able to hold my head still while he presses his lips to mine, not kissing back but just receiving the kiss.

To find perfect stillness of letting go, and being his treasured doll.

rock-star

Posted in cusak, real life with tags on Sun, 21 Sep, 2008 :: 264/38 :: 11:55:36 +0000 by anaïs' little sister

The ex used to be a rock star. I was his rock star girlfriend, not really a rock star in my own right, but definitely cooler because of my orbit around the little blonde sun he was. We’d go to parties, and he’d be popular, and people would get close to him to get close to me, and the whole thing would be kind of tawdry and ridiculous.

I tried being a rock star while I was dating him, but if I got too popular and out in front, it seemed like he’d feel the need to diminish me, because he was supposed to be the “name” in our relationship.

**

Last night Cusak and I went out to an event. And I realized that we’re rock stars together. He doesn’t feel the need to make me play smaller, to frame his performance with my own. He plays off me, and I play off him, and the whole thing makes the both of us a little cooler. A little more fun to be around.

We got in the three-way flirt last night, a couple of times, and I’ve also realized he’s really good at it. He can play off me in ways I’m not used to. It’s nice having a boyfriend who knows how to be a good wingman while maintaining his position as my boyfriend. This seems to speak well for my future in this relationship.

**

Drama continues elsewhere…but I think they’re just jealous of what I have.