I have a thing about hands. Men’s hands. Total erotic thing for me. I like watching a beautiful strong pair of hands maul my body. Rough. My first ex husband had the tiniest hands. They were more like mitts. Hobbit mitts. They repelled me. My second soon to be ex-husband has beautiful hands but he never would maul me with them. They were almost too elegant for that. But my lover? Man. My lover’s hands are something else entirely. I just have to look at them and I almost come. They are the perfect size and shape. And you can tell he makes shit with them. Creative and manly shit. Like he can build beautiful things with his bare hands. Hands I wish were all over my naked body right this minute.
But is it bad? No. I don’t think so. I mean, sometimes I do. Here’s the thing, it’s a train track with one side being the oh shit this is gonna hurt like a motherfucker he’s married you are going through a divorce don’t distract feel the pain and move through it like a stoic fucking nun and then there is the opposite side which is freedom fuck yeah the yoke is off it’s time to feel my body and stop being repressed and restrained I am like a horse in heat after a long wait and he is good and kind and strong and sexy and passionate and connected and such a good lover why the hell not?????? What is wrong with that?
And both exist alongside each other with equal weight and validity and I straddle them both as my train travels along this track towards God only knows.
Have I mentioned that I am thinking about taking ayahuasca with a couple of shamans? They say it can restructure your brain and boy does my brain need some restructuring.
I don’t EVER want to go through a relationship like this, with my husband, again. This confusion over who I thought he was and who he turned out to be. The disparity is enough to drive me insane.
I should know that if I start taking anti-anxiety medication so that I can stay in a relationship, I probably shouldn’t be in that relationship.
I have relationship anxiety. I have been on Zoloft since December.
So- get off the meds. Do an ayahuasca ceremony and let the real games begin. I know it’s only the beginning, but it’s a big one, and I always say, go big or go home.
My lover sent me a naked photo of his torso today and I almost came looking at it. That has NEVER happened to me before in my life. I have never lusted over a man’s body in front of me or in a photo or a movie. Never.
But this guy? Man. Our physical chemistry is crazy. Our bodies touch and it’s like game over. Done.
I don’t even know that much about him.
Except that he is married. With a daughter like mine. A couple of years older. That he loves his family. That they are both doing this thing. And that he is an artist. And kind. And passionate. And sexy.
I must be ovulating.
Did I also mention that I am going to get my tubes tied?
I hate taking hormones. I hate taking anything.
I need to get off the meds.
But what about AA and ayahuasca?
Apparently there is a pretty big community of sober people who practice ceremony with the grandmother vine.
Must make note to self to check that out.