It Gets Better

One more month.

One more song.

One more smoke.

Lovely lady lusty eyes when he said something sweet. I forget to turn them off sometimes.

And there go my panties and my legs up around my head.

He couldn’t wait until we got downstairs.

Said panties were placed reverently across the armchair. Whomever came first had to go back upstairs and get them.

I knew it was going to be me.

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Sometimes I know.

Some days I can predict the future.

When I was in my funk of last week and my heart was as heavy as the clouds and as cold as a witch’s tit, I knew it would end.

That I would feel warm and happy again at some point.

I always know, but sometimes the sads hit so hard they steal my memories of any happiness and hide them away somewhere in my room that I don’t have the energy to leave or clean.

But deep down I know.

My survival rate for all the bad shit and the bad moods and the huge mistakes is 100%.

Sometimes life is a waiting room and you forget why you are there until your number gets called and you move to the next room.

I was the kid who wanted to stay up late so I didn’t miss anything.

I stopped doing drugs for the same reason.

Somewhere in my marrow is ingrained the idea that something new is always around the corner.

Good or bad, at least it’s different.

I figured Friday would be a good day and it was.

Weather Network said sunny and warm. That always helps.

I have been re-watching True Blood and I found myself in dire need of a forehead kiss. Some affection, human contact, you get the idea.

I have been chipping away at the monumental amount of things I have to do before I go, even though it was like trying to run in the water with weighted feet dragging the corpses of my exes and a lot of baggage behind me. Both literal and figurative baggage.

I am doing this thing called reverse packing. Pretty much everything that is going with me is already packed. Clothes, jewelry, the scarce few knickknacks and witchy things I am bringing for beauty and comfort.

Panda and I went shopping. I got secondhand Free People clothes. My favorites. And I packed them immediately.

Reasoning that they will be my reward for getting there, painting the walls, settling in. I think that red suitcase won’t make it out of my trunk for a week or two while I get settled.

It is weird to be living in a half room, with a half life. Just waiting to run away. Chipping away at the things that need to be done. Everyday I’m shuffling.

But like I said. I knew Friday was gonna be better. Even before I had a dangling carrot.

Friday was approximately my 2 year first date anniversary with Giant give or take a day or two. Who now makes up 10% of my posts. One would think I had a thing for him.

I do.

It’s called love. Unconditional, all-encompassing love.

Love without ownership and no rules.

He is not mine. We joked that when he was 35 he might wander back to reclaim what he forgot to claim in the first place.

But it won’t be like I imagined. He is selling the house I had once fantasized about having a room up in the attic to write, the same room we sat in where my panties were reverently removed while John Mayer crooned about something or other. My life changing inspired him to do some of his own it seems. I also joked about having nowhere to come home to if he moved, the guest room should have been sanctuary. Or more realistically his bed.

I remember the first time I saw his room. It is navy and white and pretty much perfect. Dark wood everywhere. He exposed one of the brick walls and made a headboard out of reclaimed wood. I have spent many hours holding onto that headboard for dear life. When he fucks me so good I forget my name and eats my pussy like it’s the last supper.

Friday was good for a few reasons actually, Panda got a 60 inch TV for the living room and was not home so…Pornhub in high def instead of on my old little phone I keep for such things. I hadn’t been masturbating as much as usual, but I started again this week. It did elevate my mood in a noticeable way.

I used to jerk off before I would see him, to try and keep my libido from screaming at me the whole time he was geographically close. I did it yesterday because I could.

So when he went down on me I immediately pulled him up for a kiss, just to check that I didn’t taste like toys.

I didn’t.

I haven’t had sex since November. I was saving myself and he was otherwise occupied. But how could I not. He is my lightning Giant.

Would be an affront to the Gods if I didn’t take my peace when it was offered.

I think I will always fuck him like it’s the last time, because it could very well be.

When I come back from away in August who knows where we will be. No more bedroom with the brick wall.

We fell asleep in soft, tangled bedding touching just enough to acknowledge the other.

I was woken up at 5am by the loudest of purrs. He has 2 kittens, Gary and Larry. They found me a warm and cozy thing to sleep on, and I fell back asleep to kitten kisses. And woke up a few hours later to forehead kisses.

He drove me home in the dark of the morning, John Mayer still playing on the stereo in his big black truck.

I said “I’ll see you soon”, and I will.