Empty-Minded Girl

Well, not me.  Not yet.  (more…)

Last night, my boyfriend of nearly 3 years (there’s some discrepancies on the date as neither of us can place precisely when we truly became an “us”) came home from a 2 week business trip.  Despite his exhaustion, he was happy to see me again which in turn made me even happier.
We obligatorily made love and he quickly fell asleep atop the sheets and buried in my shoulder.  The alarm woke us late in the morning.  I’d shut it off and laid back in bed; we were on our sides, noses nearly touching.  I grumbled my dissatisfaction with having to wake and he just stroked my cheek and smiled.  “You’re so precious,” he whispered and quickly fell back asleep.  A few small words spoken poured sunlight into me.
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It’s been a while since I’ve mentioned anything overly personal about myself.  Heck, I think my opening entry may have been the last “dramatic truth” shared.  (Upon reexamining my posts, it appears that my true first was left incomplete and saved as a draft.  I should consider posting it, albeit a year late, as it certainly will make for an important “first” entry.)
Fact is, this is an entry that’s been a very long time in the making.  A bit of me that I’ve wanted to get out for a rather long time but simply haven’t.  A topic that develops as time marches on.

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Or rather with.
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Jack and I had a fantastic few days.

Thursday we went for our tattoos.  Laying back with the gun at my abdomen, I backed out.  No, I’m not a pussy.  I simply want to make for certain I’m wanting that particular piece and want to fix myself up by losing a couple pounds and toning the area.  I actually considered having part of it done up at my hip bones as the skin/fat there won’t be affected by further weight loss (which is actually going quite well, thank you).  Before you ask, I’m wanting a few stars on my abdomen from my hips leading downward towards my pubis; maybe 5 on each side.

With the additional time, Jack went ahead and had two small works done on his arm.  They’re some odd occult symbols.  He’s ultra-sex with them.  After his initial panic attack (massive trypanophobia), things went well and we all had some good laughs and good general conversation.  He’s already made plans to go back for three more…  While I support him 100%, and haven’t any distaste for him modifying his body like this, I’m fast losing attraction to what he’s adding.  Don’t get me wrong, every single piece he is getting is going to look sexy on him; but every single piece he is getting has some pretty intense meaning to him — that personal meaning is intense in the negative way.  I really am uncertain as to what I actually feel about him having them, so many of them.

We’ve spent a ton of time in the kitchen this weekend cooking various things.  It’s his favorite place in the house to be.
Hours and hours spent watching movie after movie.  Hours and hours spent making love until daylight.

We spent an afternoon salsa dancing at a rather non-local club which was fabulous.  No liquor, no cigarettes, just us and music.  Despite the cool temperature within, we poured sweat just like the other few dancers.  The friendliness of dancers amazes me as after every song, everyone on the floor shook hands and/or hugged one another.  Out in the normal world, Jack comes across as being rather misanthropic, but every time we go dancing he’s so friendly and wears a smile.  It’s good for him, no doubt; it’s great for me.  And just to throw a bone to the sexual deviants out there: we ended the afternoon in the “public” laundry room with me clutching the dryer, dress pushed to my shoulders, as he took me.

So we come to now, 7:40pm.  Here I sit alone.  Just over an hour ago, I gave my love and kisses to my beloved as he hustled out to catch a flight to Salt Lake City where he’ll be educating dummies for two weeks.  TWO WEEKS!  Yes, my cheeks ache from crying for the past half hour or so.
Maybe I am a pussy after all.

For two long weeks it’ll be me and the cats and lots of shuffling back and forth from his place to mine and one of my offices… which is nearly 4 hours one way.  I don’t mind the drive when I know I’m coming back to the comfort of him.  Without him, I’m just going to be depressed.
C’est la vie.

2 days away.

Saturday is an official girls’ night to take place at “the sisters’” home.

I’m quite excited about this.  The Sisters, several (four I think) of their friends, myself and June will be joining up for booze, games, and UFC99; rawr.  It should be a great time.  It’s been quite some time since I’ve had girl-only outings.

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