It’s building up, getting worse. I can feel my control slipping and I know it won’t be long now until the storm breaks free. H is learning to sense it too, starting to understand what the signs mean. He hasn’t pinpointed it just yet, but it won’t be a secret between us much longer I don’t believe. Sure going to the gym sometimes helps short term, but I can’t get what I need there. Whilst listing off an array of ideas to put my energies in to recently, H asked if I needed to text O. Rather than releasing the “YES!!!” which was screaming inside of me, I took a breath and answered, “No.” remarkably calmly if I do say so myself.
We had plans to hook up with Mr. Shy Guy again last weekend, but I asked H to cancel the morning of. I was exhausted from working too many hours and too angry after months of suppressing issues between myself and H. I was on the brink and didn’t have the energy for “fun”. I made it an additional two days before I finally broke down and laid it all out for H. I pointed out the promises he made and then didn’t follow through on. I explained in painful detail how he’d broken my trust and made me feel terrified, as though I had no security at all. I showed him how he’d made my worst fear come true: feeling that I was married to a man I couldn’t trust financially. To be fair, he feels awful, apologized sincerely and seems intent on correcting his errors. Still, he broke my heart and I’d been holding it in for months hoping it would just go away if I ignored it. Surprise surprise, it didn’t.
I’ve been so stressed, so emotional, vulnerable, and probably a hundred other things I hate to ever ascribe to myself, but I have been. It’s been about six weeks since the last time I saw O and I’ve barely had any contact with him at all…with the possible exception of him reading this blog. I know he read it in the past; I’ve truly no idea if he still does. Either way I have to own up to the variety of people I’ve had in bed in the none-too-distant past and the fact that he may or may not have been aware of this because, let’s face it, I’m a coward.
Scratch that…selfish coward. I should at least be honest enough with myself to recognize that I care about two things when it comes to O; keeping him in my life and the desire to submit to him. I can tell him all I want that I want him to be happy and don’t want my desires to interfere with him having whatever he wants in life, but how true is that really? Sure I don’t want my desires to be at cross purposes with his, but if they are am I really so noble as to sublimate my needs? I think not. Otherwise I wouldn’t seek more than he would want to give…that seems to be a recurring, nasty habit of mine when it comes to him. Make that greedy selfish coward. What a prize!
Still, I’m well and truly running out of time to make a decision one way or another. Confess and deal with his response, whatever that might be, or accept that I cut ties with him simply because I couldn’t, no, wouldn’t stop myself from violating the trust that existed between us. And I wonder why I haven’t had much luck finding a Dom. Hell, perhaps I’m already past the point of no return with O. Mr. Shy Guy will be here tomorrow and I just want crazy sex to be enough for once! Can’t I, even for just one night, go back to that time long ago when I thought chasing high-risk sex was meeting that inexplicable need within me? There was a time when I thought this method worked. Oh, how wrong I was. Now I know exactly how inadequate sex is as a replacement for what my soul yearns for…and I’m no closer to having it now than I was ten years ago. Working out until I pass out, pushing my car faster, always faster, cutting, starving myself. There have been so many things I’ve tried, and all have failed so spectacularly to meet my needs. And still, even having recognized the true source, still I have not what I need.
Why have I put so much time and energy into learning about myself, working on myself, trying to understand and accept who and what I am if I still choose to not be honest with the people I care about the most? If I can’t even be honest about my sex life with O; if I can’t even be honest with H about how hurt I am that he made empty promises, what have I actually gained? I thought it was the masks that were ugly, when really, it seems, it was actually I.