So very complicated

I am a simple person with a complicated love life. I have loved my husband for 26, he is my soul mate. But, I’ve loved another man for 6 years. A man that I’ve never even met in person. I know it doesn’t make any rational sense. I have been trying to understand how it happened for 6 years now. I still don’t know.

How do you make sense of having such strong emotions for a person you might walk right past on a street? How do you love more than one person at a time? How do you not feel disloyal to your partner? How do you accept that you can love that person, but never be a couple in any traditional sense of the word?

My husband knows about this man. He knows how often I’ve cried because of him. He has held me when it felt like my heart was breaking. He hates the other guy because I have cried. I know that I should respect my husband, and let go of J, but I can’t. I have tried.

J and I fight often. I try not to talk to him, that never works. Because one of us will speak to the other. We are from different backgrounds, ages and races. What makes sense to me doesn’t make sense to him. And I am often in disbelief with his way of thinking.

When I do fight with J, things don’t feel right. I feel off center. Like there is a disturbance on my force. It bothers me when I don’t have contact with my friend. Yes, I love him, but he means the world to me as my friend. I let go of “being in love” but I will always love him on some level.

I wish I understood why it happened. I wish I knew why I connected to this guy I don’t have much in common with. Sometimes it feels like maybe we were connected in a former life, and those feelings still exist. It’s hard to explain, but there is a connection there.

I know I sound delusional. I’m almost 52, and he’s 33. I’m white, he’s black. I grew up in solid middle class suburbia. He grew up in the “hood” (his word, not mine) I grew up very religious, he doesn’t even believe in god. The only things we have in common is our football team, and we both have social anxiety. But somehow we clicked. Go figure.

I don’t even know why I’m writing about this yet again. It’s nothing new. Maybe I’m hoping that one day I will see things in a different way. Maybe one day the feelings will change again. We went from casually tweeting, to talking in DMs, to talking whenever possible, to both admitting that we loved the other (I felt like I had been punched in the gut when I realized I actually loved him) Things changed, they became (non physically) sexual. I was madly in love. Then things changed again. I let go of being in love. It literally took several years for that to happen.

I have a relationship with a man who is not my husband. He is not my boyfriend. He is not my lover. We’re friends. I say friends with a twist. We have a history. We have feelings that are not just about friendship. I let go of some feelings because I had to, they were literally messing with my head.

What isn’t complicated is I really care about him. What is complicated is that I love him. Sometimes I wish it was possible to be together. But it isn’t possible. I have a wonderful husband, and he tolerates my love for J, but he will never share me.

I will freely admit that I am a mess. I don’t make sense. My life doesn’t make sense to anyone else. I’ll still trying to deal with things. For some reason, God gave me a huge heart. I love more than most people. It’s my super power. I will just keep on loving, it’s what I do best.



Why am I still here?

I have had some brushes with death/destiny and I’m still here. June of 1997, just days before my 30th birthday, I almost died. I was losing so much blood, I gave up. I took off my shorts & underwear, grabbed a pillow and laid in the bathtub. I just let it drain out of me.

At some point in the morning, I made my husband get out of bed, and take me to the emergency room. I had to get a D&C. I was told that I lost over half my body’s supply of blood. I had to have two pints transfused. Imagine if I had slept a little longer, I wouldn’t be here now.

I was waiting at a red light to cross the highway to go home. The light turned green, but something made me wait. If I had started crossing when it turned green, the woman in the huge SUV would have literally run right over me and my little Metro. She ran the red light, and never even slowed down.

One day in Miami, I was going to go to the mall with my sister, and my niece. Right before the entrance to the parking lot, I changed my mind. I found out later there was a shoot out in the mall right in the section we would have been in.

When I was in junior high, my school bus never showed up. I started walking home, but I was stopped. It was a former boyfriend of my sister. He gave me a ride, and he left. A few years later, he walked into the car dealership where his wife worked, and killed her.

Also in junior high, I was between 12-14. I was walking from the school to the department store on the highway where my sister worked. Since clubs were after school, I couldn’t catch the bus home. I was approaching the park on the corner of the highway, and I noticed a car facing the direction I was coming from. There was a man in it, and he called to me. He asked me if I knew Spanish, and I said a little bit. He asked me to get in the car with him. I said, No, and backed away. I cut across the park, and I noticed that he pulled away from that spot, and it seemed like he tried to follow me. I still sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had been stupid enough to get in that car.

I’ve been binge watching Criminal Minds again. And they always talk about victimology. Like why were those people chosen. I have put myself in some stupid situations, and I might have survived without physical harm, but it left emotional scars.

When I was young, and too trusting, I went with a customer I met at my first job. He said he would teach me how to drive. He picked me up after work, and we got a pizza. I had no fears at that point. But then we got to where we were going, He was a security guard at a condo complex. We went to the clubhouse, he unlocked the door to let us in, and then locked it behind us. First red flag appeared.

We ate the pizza, talked, and he kissed me. I was still a virgin at that point, almost no experience. He got turned on. Somehow, he brought up his wife. I told him that I wanted to go home, and stood up. He grabbed my wrist, and proceeded to jerk off. I just stood there, and let him. I made him take me home, but made him drop me off on the corner so he didn’t know where I lived. I took a shower when I got home. I didn’t realize it then, but I had been sexually assaulted. I believe that if he had been in better shape, I probably would have been raped. I was way too trusting then.

I once read a book called Anatomy of a Motive by one of the original FBI profilers, John Douglas. He made a comment that anyone could be a victim, or become the object of an obsession. He mentioned a waitress at a local diner as an example. At the time I read it, I was working at a Denny’s. I think that may have contributed to my agoraphobia I had.

I have been the object of more than one obsession. On my first job, a cook decided that he was going to have sex with me. I told him no, and he went nuts trying to find a way to get me fired. He ended up getting himself fired.

I was sexually assaulted/groped at my second job by another guy who decided he was going to have sex with me. Also another hard no. He was put back in jail for violating his probation, and was calling me at work from jail. He freaked me out.

I honestly have no idea why I’m still here. So many close calls, but I’m still breathing. If there was a barter system for souls, I would gladly trade mine in so that my friend’s son could have survived.

We make small decisions all the time that have huge impacts on our lives, and we never even know it. What do I do that attracts the people who have gotten obsessed? Why have I survived this long? I don’t have a clue.





My social media experience

Social media is a weird experience. I have about 2,000 followers on Twitter, and yesterday, I had over 4,000 views on my tweets. How? Why? I mostly post pictures, and memes I get off of Facebook.

I’m not sure why I originally got on Facebook in 2009, but I did it to keep in touch with family and old friends. I got on Twitter in 2012 because I wanted to use it to reply to some Miami Dolphins fan app.

I never had any idea how joining Twitter could change my life. I have social anxiety, but I learned about a group of Miami Dolphins that sat together at MetLife Stadium for games against the Jets. Our first game had 1,000 fans together. I actually had a breakdown before we found our seats, but I eventually had fun, We’ve been almost every year since. I’ve met several people I talked to online.

I was online one day, and a friend messaged me. She asked if I would like some of Coach Tony Sparano’s official game gear. Well, hell, yeah! She is/was his sister in law. She told him about me, and he was happy to give her even more stuff. So, I got an 18 pound box full of clothes with his name tags in them. ☺

One Christmas, I was joking around that someone should send me a bottle of rum as a gift. A follower actually called the liquor store near me, and paid for a bottle. I just had to pick it up.

One year I was broke as hell, and asked if someone could loan me some money. Someone I had never met sent me money through Paypal. His generosity helped lift me out of a very dark period in my life. I paid him back a few months later when I got a job, but I will never forget how he helped us.

I have met some amazing people online, but I’ve met some jerks too. Some people are users/abusers, and they get evil when you don’t do things they want. I learned to block and ignore them. They can be miserable without dragging me into it.

I’ve been told that I helped someone who was ready to commit suicide, but my talking to her that night changed her mind. And on the flip side, I’ve had people save me from those thoughts.

I fell in love with two friends I met on Twitter. That is something that makes perfect sense, and doesn’t make any sense at all. I’ve learned that I fall in love through talking, looks have nothing to do with it. For that matter, age and race don’t matter much either.

I discovered that there are Miami Dolphins all over the world, that was a pleasant surprise. I didn’t imagine I’d be talking to people in Germany, South Africa, Italy and the U.K. about the Dolphins.

I was just reading a post about blogging. I don’t really do it for the views, I do it because sometimes seeing my thoughts in print form help me understand myself better. Sometimes I need to say something without telling that person directly.

There are times when I am amazed that anyone wants to read anything that I’ve posted. I’m surprised at the number of celebrities who follow me. I’m in wonder at the sense of community I have with people all over the world. Social media has its downside, but it has so many good things about it too.




bisexual, Uncategorized

Confused, but not about that…

Sometimes I wonder why it took me 46 years to accept that I’m bisexual. At that point, why couldn’t I keep it buried forever? Why did I have to find out? I was married for almost two decades by then. I wasn’t young, and I couldn’t go out and explore.

I was young, and living in Miami in the late 1980s and 90s. Why couldn’t I know it then? Why couldn’t I explore in that environment?

I went to a very small Christian college from 85-87. I certainly couldn’t have done any exploring of that type there. But I didn’t know that I was bi then. Maybe for my safety, my brain wouldn’t let me know.

I got married at 26. I wasn’t a virgin. I had other lovers before my husband. I didn’t know I was bi then, it didn’t even occur to me.

I’ve always had the signs that I was bi. I got turned on looking at pictures of women. But I got turned on by males too. I didn’t know that liking to look at women meant an actual attraction to the same sex. It seems so obvious now, but I didn’t have a clue.

I really wish that sexuality was a choice, because I wouldn’t choose this. I wouldn’t chose to be the subject of abuse, or people wishing death on me. I wouldn’t choose the conflict between wanting to be faithful, and waiting to have a girlfriend. I wouldn’t choose to have someone I love tell me that I have the devil in me. I wouldn’t choose the ache of wanting something that I can’t have.

Confusion seems to play a major part in being bisexual. I’m not confused about being attracted to both sexes. Confusion comes from stupid things like labels. I’m not straight, but I don’t think of myself as gay, or queer. The groups don’t help things. I’m too straight for gay women, and too gay for straight people.

I get told things like, “You’re not bi, you haven’t had sex with a woman” or, “It’s just a phase.” Being a virgin doesn’t negate  person’s sexuality. I’ve been attracted to women since I was at least 4 or 5. Tell me how it’s still a phase at 51 years old.

I find is somewhat humorous that because I’m bisexual, it makes being friends with men easier. But I’m forever awkward around most women. With men, I talk about sex, what I like, and what I’d like in a woman. Go figure, they respond to that.

Anyway, back to the knowledge of me sexuality. Why did I have to know? Does it benefit me, or anyone for that matter? I’ve been told that it means I can be true to myself. Ok. I guess there was a reason I liked looking at all those pictures of women on Facebook, and posting them on Twitter.

Oh, yeah, I fell in love with a woman I met online. Once again, how does that help me? She’s taken. I’ve never actually met her. Does me having those feelings benefit anyone at all?

Maybe knowing, and coming out on Twitter was for a reason. I doubt she would have ever talked to me if I hadn’t. Maybe we both just needed each other as friends.

I don’t know why I’m bisexual. I don’t know why it took me so long to figure it out. I don’t know anything. I’m not confused about being bisexual, but about why it took me so long to accept it



So many rules…

I had a conversation with someone today about love. He’s in the position where he loves his spouse, but he loves his friend as well. I know where he’s coming from, because that’s where I’m at too. It’s painful.

I love my husband, and have for 26 years. I love more than one friend, and it hurts. It hurts my husband to know that I care about more than him. It hurts me, because I can’t be with anyone else, and because it makes me feel like I’m disrespecting David. Ugh

But, like it was explained to me before, love is not something that is limited. You can love more than one person, and it doesn’t lessen your love for anyone. You just have to decide where you let things go.

Just because I love J, it doesn’t mean that I have the right to disregard the vows I made to my husband. I can’t go, and express my love for J in the physical form. If I had an open marriage, that could be possible, but I don’t.

I love T, and the rules are slightly different. Because she is female, I have his permission for the possibility of physical affection. Technically… but that isn’t possible anyway. Ugh

So many emotions, and so many rules. Part of me loves having a monogamous relationship. I don’t have to worry about diseases, or ignoring one person for another. But part of me wishes I could have my cake, and eat it too. (Or be eaten)

We’re taught that we can only have one soul mate. But, that doesn’t prevent us from clicking with other people. Sometimes you find someone else who just “gets” you.

I could be selfish, and go for what I wanted, but it wouldn’t be worth the cost, and the harm it would do. I can’t hurt the one person who has loved me with everything he has. I know I’m selfish for even having the other person in my emotions. I can’t let go, because I would miss the friendship.

I’m a mess. I wish that life was simple, but I have a heart that seems to grow bigger as I get older. How goofy is it to love three very different people?

The reality is that I can love with a limitless capacity, I just can’t act on it. I wish we weren’t bound by so many rules. I can’t change who I am, or how I love. But I have to respect the vows I made.


Is it cheating?

You would think that after 51 years of living, that I would have a decent clue about life. I don’t. I thought I understood love when I met, and married my husband. I learned that there are many forms of love, and they change constantly.

I thought I understood what cheating was, but once again, no real clue. How do you define cheating? Is flirting cheating? Is lusting after another person cheating? Is Sexting/phone sex cheating? Or do you cross that line once bodies are involved?

I had a period in my life when I fell in love with a friend I met online. It became sexual, but it was never physical. To this day (6 years later) I still haven’t met him in person. My husband was hurt and angry when I told him about it. I never lied to him about my feelings, but I did leave details out.

He felt betrayed that I had feelings for someone else. It didn’t matter that it just developed from talking so much.  I didn’t understand how I could love two people, so I really didn’t expect him to understand it. He felt that I shouldn’t be able to have those feelings since I already loved him.

Was falling in love with someone else cheating? Or did that happen when the conversations turned sexual, and the flirting happened? My husband caught me having phone sex. I’m still ashamed about that years later. That really hurt him. It was a betrayal to him, but is it cheating?

Out of curiosity, I’ve asked on Twitter if it was worse to have your partner fall in love with someone else, or if they had sex. Most people felt the emotional affair was worse. But is that cheating? Ugh.

I did things that I’m not proud of. I couldn’t control my feelings, but I could have controlled my actions. Except that I didn’t. My husband and I were having some difficulties at that point in time. I was having a mid life crisis, and my hormones were in over drive. So I used my feelings, and my hornyness to excuse my actions to myself.

What I did was cheating. It was all mental, but it was a betrayal. Because I didn’t cross the line, and have sex, my husband was able to forgive me. I was asked last night if I could forgive my husband if he had sex with someone else. I think I could, IF I knew that he had used a condom, and it didn’t happen in our bed.

To me, sex is just a body function, and people place to much importance on it. I would be angry if he was doing it with someone else, and ignoring me. That’s unforgivable. I would also be angry if he exposed me to any diseases. Am I saying that I’d be ok with my husband sleeping around? No. I’m saying that I understand that people have needs that one person can’t always satisfy.

When you’re in a relationship, there is an understanding that there are only two people involved. Yes, there are poly relationships, but that has to be by agreement, and there has to be rules. I don’t understand people who expect their partner to be faithful and pure, but it’s acceptable for them to screw around.

Life is weird, and relationships take work. Sometimes a person needs more than they’re getting, but cheating isn’t the answer. As for me, my situation has changed. I’m no longer in love with the person. I don’t get sexual gratification from doing those things anymore. I did mentally cheat, and I fantasized about having sex, but I never went that far. That doesn’t make me better or worse than anyone else, it just makes me human.


Becoming me

When I was 4 or 5, I found a porn magazine. I didn’t realize that’s what it was, but I liked the pictures of women. When I was 9, my oldest sister worked in a convenience store, I would go behind the counter, and look at those magazines. By that age, I knew they were porn, and I shouldn’t be looking at them. But I didn’t know that, as a female, I shouldn’t like looking at them.

I was a very sheltered child, but somehow I managed to come across several magazines as a kid. I liked looking at them. It never once occurred to me that the liking was actually an attraction. I thought every female felt the same way. I didn’t know that I was “different”

I had crushes on boys, but I had a crush on my fourth grade teacher too. She was young, and had dark hair. I had no idea that it was a “crush”. I just knew that I liked her.

I played with Barbies, but I had the female dolls kissing each other. I think I had a Ken doll, but he wasn’t very important. He was there because he was “supposed” to be.

In high school, I had crushes on male and female teachers. Once again, I didn’t realize the feelings towards the females were crushes. I was so ignorant. During my two years in college, still no clue.

All through my 20s and 30s, I was still clueless. I had sex with a guy for the first time when I was 23. I met my husband at 25, and married him when I was 26. My husband is my soul mate, and I love him. It always just felt right.

But then came 2013. The year I turned 46. I had a mid life crisis. My hormones went crazy. I had an online sexual thing with a guy I met on Twitter. I never masturbated so much in my life. And then somehow, I fell in love with another man I met on Twitter. I did not flirt with him. There was not a sexual element involved. The friendship evolved, and changed into something more.

Once we both acknowledged the change in the friendship, it became sexual (never physical). Because of him, I had to accept the fact that I wanted oral sex. I always blocked the thought from my mind before then. Once I accepted that I wanted oral sex, for some reason, I was finally ready to admit that I wanted it with a woman.

At 46 years old, I finally accepted myself for what I am, a bisexual woman. I am attracted to men, and to women. As I get older, the attraction seems to lean more towards women. It doesn’t feel weird, I have always been bisexual. I was literally just ignorant that is actually what it was. I did not know that you could be attracted to both.

Coming out was strange. Some people were fine with it. Others had a problem with it. I lost friends because of it. I had my favorite sister tell me that I had the devil in me, and that I needed to “get right”.

I came out on Twitter, and as a result, a lesbian struck up conversations with me. Falling in love with another man while in love with my husband was strange, and bizarre to me. I had no idea that was even possible. I learned to accept it. I just figured that I had so much love to give. (Once again, it was never physical. I did not cheat on my husband)

Then, out of the blue, I realized that I loved the lesbian friend too. Once again, it felt natural. Caring for multiple people was strange, but the love I had for them individually just felt right.

That was a few years ago. I still love both of them as friends. The “in love” feeling has passed. It was a weird time in my life, but it never felt forced or strange.

Coming out has changed my life in some odd ways. I see life differently now. I do accept the attraction I feel for both sexes. It’s not unnatural. It’s not wrong. It’s just how I am. I am attracted to, and I am capable of falling in love with either sex (I’m not getting into how many sexes/genders there actually are. I identify as bisexual, not pansexual)

I’ve learned that the default does not have to be a man/woman couple. I don’t assume when someone says “wife”, that they are a man. I’ve learned that sexuality, and attraction can be fluid. I have learned that polyamory is a real thing. You can love more than one person at a time.

Accepting that I’m bisexual has been painful. I have lost people I thought were friends. I have lost one job because of it. The scariest thing is realizing that I am not straight, and that there are people who want to kill me because of that. There are people who think I am a second class citizen because of it. There are people who think I should not have the right to marry a woman. I am married to a man, and have been for 25 years, but what if I had fallen for a woman first?

There are times I wish that I was still ignorant. What good does it do me to know that I am attracted to women, but I can’t really do anything about it? A few years ago, I did go on some dates with a lesbian. I had my one sexual experience with a woman with her. I made her orgasm. I wasn’t touched, so in a way I still feel like I’m a virgin.

Being a virgin doesn’t mean someone isn’t bisexual, but the experience took away any doubts I had about being aroused by a female.   Touching the other woman didn’t make me a “legitimate” bisexual. People don’t seem to understand that. Attraction is the only thing that matters when it comes to sexuality.

Becoming me has been a strange experience. I am not “normal”. I never have been. I did not realize that my awkwardness around females was because I felt attractions, but I didn’t know that’s what they were. I am still astounded about how clueless I was. I wish I could have learned the truth earlier, but then I probably wouldn’t have met my husband. It’s difficult wishing for something when you already have your someone.

So, what am I? I am a 51 year old woman, who has been married for 25 years. I love my husband, but I really wish I could have a girlfriend too. Does that make me a greedy bisexual? Probably. I am a late bloomer. I want to explore, and do the things I didn’t get to do when I was young. But, I can’t. Technically, I have my husband’s permission to “explore” but the reality is that I’m no spring chicken, and most women are not interested.

So, what I am is frustrated. But, that’s life. I won’t get to explore. I won’t get to know the wonders of another woman’s body. Maybe I shouldn’t say “won’t”. Anything is possible, but it’s not likely. I am the “me” that I’m meant to be. I don’t know why I am this way, but it’s the way God made me.



Unanswered questions

I’ve been watching the show, Cold Justice on Netflix. It’s about investigating cold murder cases. It made me think about a murder of someone I met in 1992. I was questioned by police in the case. I always wondered what happened. If it was ever solved.

A high school friend of mine is a lawyer in Florida. She looked into it for me since I couldn’t find anything online. She said it’s not on the unsolved list, so she assumes it was solved.

For 26 years I’ve wondered what happened. I’ll never know the details, and it will always bother me. I hope there was justice in the case, if only for his kids’ sake.


I wish my life made sense

I just watched the movie, Mona Lisa Smile. Julia Roberts’ character goes to Wellesley College in 1953 to make a difference. And she did. She opened the minds of the students she taught. My life seems pointless. My live is strange.

I was sitting here, crying. I love my husband, he’s an amazing man. But I love another man as well. Society tells me that I shouldn’t, that it’s wrong. I don’t understand it. It was a total shock to me when I discovered that I did love him. We are told that we can only love one person at a time. One time I was trying to explain to my husband how it was possible that I loved him, and me loving someone else didn’t change that. I told him that because he loved me so well, I had more love to give.

I was talking to someone I met online recently about loving more than one person. She said that love was like a diamond. It has many sides to it, and they all shine. I love that quote, because it’s so true.

I love my husband, and I am so grateful that I have him. He fits me. I do believe that he’s my soul mate. He’s my “home”.

I also love a man 18 years younger than I am. I was in college getting dumped by my first boyfriend when he was born. He’s considered a “Millennial”. When I think about it, it blows my mind. How is that even possible? And he loves me back, also amazing.

I love this man, and I’ve never met him in person. I’m not sure if that makes it easier, or more difficult, to accept. For four years, I didn’t even know what he looked like. That didn’t matter either. I fell in love with his soul, not his appearance.

So, it’s been five years since I met him on Twitter. I really thought the feelings would pass, that he would lose interest,or that we’d make each so mad that we’d quit talking. We make each other furious quite often, but we make up. The feelings are still here. He is still in my life, even if it’s not in person.

I’m the type of person that needs things to make sense. I struggle when there seems to be no purpose for something. It doesn’t make sense, it just is.

For whatever reason, he’s a big part of my life. I am not some delusional, middle aged woman obsessed with a younger man. It seems bizarre, and it is, but it also feels like it was meant to happen. I don’t understand why it happened, but I accept that it did. So I will just be happy that I can love him, and be loved.


Why me?

Obsession. I’ve been the object of it several times. I don’t understand it at all. I’m shy, I’m overweight, and I usually keep to myself.

In my first job, I worked as a waitress. I was young, and inexperienced. I kissed the cook out of curiosity. I didn’t like it because he was a chain smoker. He must have liked it, because he decided he was going to have sex with me. I told him no. He flipped out. He proceeded to do everything he could to inconvenience me, and/or get me fired. He ended up acting so irrational, that he got himself fired. All because I told him no, and I wasn’t going to let him bully me.

At my second job, I kissed a cook again (I don’t learn lessons very well) He also decided he was going to have sex with me. I told him that I was a virgin, somehow thinking that he would respect that, and leave me alone. He just got worse. He followed me into the stockroom, pulled the door shut, and groped me. (The managers did nothing when I told them) Anyway, he violated his probation on something else, and was sent back to jail.  He called me at work several times while in jail. I was terrified that he would rape me, so I decided to have sex with a guy I liked, just so my first time would be my choice. I ended up moving out of state to get away from him.

At the second job, a customer my dad’s age tried to convince me to join him and his son (about my age) in their hotel room. I told him no. He called me at the restaurant, and tried again. That freaked me out.

I was asked by a person in church to write a friend of theirs in prison. I did it, and he convinced himself he was in love with me. I’m glad I didn’t fall for that.

I met a guy at Denny’s two weeks before I left to go back to Miami. He wrote me & called me while I was in Miami. After Hurricane Andrew, he convinced me to come back to Delaware, and he’d be my roommate. I made sure he knew it would only be as friends. Well, I got back here, learned the truth about him (he was mentally unstable) and decided to not be roommates. For some reason in his obsession with me, he went to Florida where the hurricane had hit the worst. While he was there, he was murdered. And I got questioned by Miami police because he had my name & parents’ address in his wallet.

I met a guy on Twitter. He tried to get sexual with me online, and I said no. He flipped out. He tried to bully, and harass me. I blocked him, and ignored him. That only made him more angry. I find it funny that I’m still around, and he had to change his name and hide. (Mostly because he got called out by a chick he lied to & scammed)

I met a lesbian on a LGBT app. Within a week, she was telling me that loved me. Then she sent me a video clip of her kissing a picture of me on her phone, while a love song played in the background. I didn’t even block her for that. I blocked her because she sent me several weird texts in less that a minute. I blocked her on that app, Twitter and Instagram. She made more accounts, and I had to block those too.

Ok, now it seems that my husband’s stalker is stalking me too. That stalker harassed my husband for years at his job. My husband had to switch shifts to get away from him. This guy recently came into  my work, and was asking an employee on another shift about me. Telling them that he knew me, and my husband. I got mad. My husband got furious. This stalker has now come into three different jobs that I’ve had. I live in a small city, so it’s possible I could run into him. But three times, in different places, is more than a coincidence. I can’t do anything about it, either. He hasn’t technically done anything illegal. It’s so frustrating.

I don’t understand that person. I don’t know if he wants to be my husband, wants to be with my husband, or if he wants me. I just know that he’s creepy, and I want him to stay far away from both of us. They won’t do anything about him at my husband’s job, because the guy is protected. A side note: his girlfriend looks remarkably like me. My husband said that several fellow employees commented on that to him. So, one again, I’m not sure which one of us he is obsessed with.

I can understand some guys wanting to stick around, because I got them off. (I had a non physical/online-phone sex addiction for a while) One guy would show up every few months, just to make sure I didn’t forget him. But I don’t understand the other people. How do you decide that you love someone after knowing them at work for only two weeks??

I don’t understand people at all. Why target me? I guess there will always be creepy people. I just hope they stay away from me. I’ve had enough crazy in my life.


Chances are: slim to none

One of my biggest regrets in life is not realizing I was bisexual until I hit 46. The signs were literally always there, but I didn’t know what they meant. Since I wasn’t gay, it wasn’t as obvious as you might think.

So, I learn this about myself when I’ve been with my husband for 20 years. I wasn’t a spring chicken. I’m a shy introvert, so meeting potential partners is a frightening ordeal. I did try. I went on a few dates with a lesbian. That was a mixed bag of experiences. It fizzled out. She did give me my one and only sexual experience with another woman. She made me want to experience more, but I knew that it wouldn’t happen with her.

I was having a chat with J tonight (we talk most days). As an idea of a joke, he tells me that I would be more relaxed if I got ate out. I told him to stop saying things like that. It’s rather cruel to tell  me to get the one thing that I’ll most likely never experience. I can’t cheat with a man, and there isn’t much chance of me getting it from a female.

I’m 50 now. The chances of me finding a female lover have gotten even smaller. Most of the time, I deal with it. I feel the regret, but it’s not the overwhelming obsession that it was 4 years ago. I still technically have my husband’s permission to find a female, but I don’t bother looking. He doesn’t want me to look, but if it should happen, then he’ll deal with it.

I thought about putting myself out there, run an ad or join a dating site. But I don’t know what to say. How do you sell yourself to potential partners? If I was looking for a male, I know I wouldn’t have a problem finding one. But females are so much more selective. It’s ironic that women have no problem finding sex, unless they want it from another female.

I’m a funny person, but I have to know someone in order to feel comfortable joking with them. I’m a very sexual/sensual woman, but I’m so shy, I doubt that I would be able to make any moves. I’m introverted. I have social anxiety. I don’t go out much.

I can’t imagine my personality will change, and let me attempt to do the things I want to do. I don’t think that I really even want sex all that much, now. I want to be cuddle.  I want a female to do romantic things with, like walk on the beach together.

I am not an in-your-face woman, but I want to be able to do things like hold hands in public. So many women are fearful of being outed. I couldn’t attempt to be with someone who wanted to hide it. I understand their fears, so many negative things are possible.

It doesn’t help my situation that I am married to a man. Not many women are willing to be a Friend With Benefits. I have so much love to give, but my heart will always belong to my husband. He isn’t interested in threesomes, or being with another woman. He would like to be able to meet any woman I would be involved with, but he wouldn’t be involved.

He (J) pointed out that anything is possible. Sure it is, but not very likely. So, I do what most introverts do, I withdraw even further.

Do I try, or let it go? Do I let the rest of my life pass without having that experience? Do I have it, enjoy it, then never have it again? I wish I could be content with what I have. Unfortunately, I don’t even have what I used to have with my husband. We’ve both gotten older, so things changed.

I wish that there was an easy answer. I wish someone could tell me what to do. I wish for too many things. It is honestly painful to discover the truth about myself, but not be able to do anything about it. And it isn’t all about the sex. I can live without that. I crave the intimacy.

I guess I am going to let things go. I won’t say that nothing will ever happen, but it is unlikely. I really wish that sexuality was a choice. I would not choose to have these feelings, and cravings. But, it’s a part of me, and always will be. Whatever happens.


Self discovery

In 2013, I was white, Christian, married, monogamous and straight. Or, so I thought. I’ve learned so much more about myself since then. I’m still white, married and Christian, but even the edges of those facts have become blurred.

I am married, but I have since discovered that I am bisexual. I have been my entire life, but I never had the sense, or the courage, to accept it. My husband reluctantly agreed to let me explore that part of myself. I dated a lesbian for a short time. I had my one and only same sex experience with her. I’m proud of myself for the fact that I made her squirt. Not bad for a nervous novice.

So, I’m not straight. That was a surprise, sort of. I’ve been attracted to females for basically as long as I can remember, but I didn’t realize that I was. I never had a female friend to discuss the matter with. I thought every female felt the same way. Since I couldn’t put a name to it, and I had no experience, I couldn’t really accept it. It didn’t help that I had a very homophobic brother. I will never forget him telling me that he wished that Boy George was in front of him singing, Do You Really Want To Hurt Me? and my brother would be holding a baseball bat.

I said I was monogamous… Technically I still am. If you don’t count me making a lesbian squirt by fingering her, I haven’t have sex with another person (other than my husband) in 25 years. I have been in love with three very different people at the same time. I am not monogamous, I’m polyamorous. Although I am no longer in love with the two other people, I still love them, and care very much about them.

My sexuality has been all over the place in the last 4 years. In 2013, I hit 46. And all hell broke loose. I learned how erotic words are. I learned how to please myself while talking to another person. For a few years, I was hyper sexual. I had an addiction to phone sex, and sexting. I was good at it. I even sexted a straight woman, and made her orgasm.

I didn’t necessarily go looking for trouble, but it certainly found me. I found a man who was 19 years younger than me who wanted to be my lover. I didn’t want to cheat on my husband, so I asked if I could. He said no. Of course, he would say no. I didn’t really expect another answer.

Something inside me changed after that conversation. The urge to want all these sexual things seemed to slow down, then eventually go away. Part of it had to do with physical changes in me, but psychologically, I didn’t have the need to behave that way.

So, I’m not straight, and I’m not monogamous. I’m still white, but I learned some history about my family. My sister was researching family genealogy. She discovered that we have relatives who survived German concentration camps. And they were later buried in a Jewish cemetery.

That blew my mind. Being a Christian has been a huge part of my life. I went to a Christian college for two years. I stayed a virgin until I was 23. But then I learn that we most likely have Jewish ancestry. Wow.

The revelation of Jewish family is not a bad thing. It’s just now it feels like I have thousands of years of history to absorb.

In the past four years, I fell in love with another man. I accepted that I am bisexual. I fell in love with a woman. I had a non physical sex addiction (sexting & phone sex). Everything I have thought about myself has changed.

I’ve learned so many things. I’ve felt sexy, beautiful and wanted. I’ve also felt tired, and alone. I am 50 years old now. I am not the same person I was at the start of 2013. Sometimes it feels like my life is like a kaleidoscope. All the colors are there, but in an instant, they rearrange themselves into another picture. It’s still colorful, and beautiful, but totally new.

I’m entering a new phase in my life. I can’t say that I enjoy the physical part of it, but I am still learning about myself. Life is a series of changes, some are so gradual, we never really notice them. Other changes are huge, and rock a person to their core. I have learned that I am not the person in the neat little box that society wants to shove me in. Screw the boxes, I’m embracing the rainbow. rainbow6


I gotta be me

I haven’t posted much on here this year. My life has settled down. I turned 50 a few months ago, and I’ve had some health issues. The overwhelming desire to find a girlfriend/female FWB has faded. I would still love to find that mythical creature, but I’m not looking.

I quit misbehaving with men online. I don’t sext, or have phone sex. I do occasionally tell someone a story to help them get off. Maybe some people don’t see a distinction between that and sexting, but I do. I just lay out a plot, and I don’t include myself in the scenario.

After four years of being almost hyper sexual, it’s just not interesting, or fun anymore. There’s no point in getting worked up, if I can’t even give myself an orgasm. (Getting old sucks).

I still have sex with my husband about once a week. It’s weird that I don’t have a problem doing that, but having an orgasm through masturbating is too intense. It feels like my heart is going to explode. And given that I have an enlarged heart, that’s entirely possible.

My attitudes about many things have changed. I can’t lie, I still love J. I will always love him as a friend. But after four years, I am no longer in love with him. I know that I’ve said that before, and I meant it. But the feelings would come creeping back in. But now, I think that they are really gone.

I have finally accepted him for who/what he is, and not what I want him to be. He will never be that person. And I’m good with that. It was time to let go.

We have a bond that neither of us can explain. But it’s there, and it’s real. We need each other. He is my best friend. I have let go of the wanting a relationship, and fantasizing about what might have been. But it would devastate me to lose him as a friend.

I still love T. It’s funny, but I never really fantasized about having a relationship with her. I know, without a doubt, that she loves her wife more than anything. I would never want to do anything to harm that. It still blows my mind to think of the fact that she literally worked right across the street from me 30 years ago. So many “what ifs”.

Because things have settled down, I can focus on my husband the way I should be doing. Every day, I realize how lucky and blessed I am that he’s mine.  I know that he will always have my back, and he would do anything in his power to protect me. And I know he loves me. I have never doubted that in almost 25 years.

I miss certain things. I miss the thrill of turning someone on, and getting them off. It was a power thing for me. I enjoyed making someone else lose control. And I miss being the one being controlled. I’m still a sexual person, it has just become more muted.

I have basically given up on the idea of ever experiencing sex with a female. That makes me sad, but it’s just something I have to deal with. I’m not saying that it will never happen, but it’s highly unlikely.

I cried the other night, thinking about being bisexual. Why did God have to make me this way? It was never a choice. And why did it take me 46 years to accept it? What good does it do me to learn that so late in life? It’s so frustrating.

It’s been 4 years since I came out, and I’m still adjusting. It upsets me to see how the world treats LGBT people. People literally want to kill me because I’m not straight. My husband asks why I even talk about it if that’s true. And I said because I won’t be silent just to make others comfortable. Maybe someone out there needs to hear my story, and know that they aren’t alone. Maybe it’s because I’ve always done my own thing, and I ignore what society says I should do.

Although I have changed in the last few years, I am still me. I don’t behave like I did. I don’t the compulsion for online sexual behavior. I am still a sexual person. I don’t have a problem talking about it, or discussing it. I’m not shy, and modest. Some people are offended by my honesty, and others appreciate. I just know that I live my life my way. I am what I am.



Not so tempted anymore

Last year, I met a guy on the Whisper app. He said he wanted me, I told him that he was wasting his time. We talked for months though. I was at a low point in my life, things weren’t great with my husband. I was tempted to give in.

I even went so far as to ask my husband if I could have a lover. Of course, he said no. While I wanted some excitement, I wasn’t going to screw around. I had already done enough damage to our marriage. When I finally got a job in December of last year, the guy quit talking to me.

Well, today, he messaged me again. When he said he was in my town for a few days, I knew he wanted something. He tells me he’s driving around, as hard as a rock. I said that I guessed he had to take matters into his own hands. Then he asked if I wanted him to come pick me up.

I didn’t even think about it. I told him no thanks, and that ship had sailed. And he quit talking to me.

In the recent past, I allowed boredom and depression to get the better of me. I did stupid things. (None of them physical, though) I flirted with random men, and even some women, online. It was very risky behavior.

But, I am not the person I was then. My life is still boring, but I don’t have the compulsion to try to fill a void by flirting. I don’t need, or want, that attention anymore. I have changed.

I can’t lie. For one second, I kind of regretted saying no. But just for a very brief moment. I’m not that type of woman, and I have way to much to lose by being that stupid.

I love my husband. I regret any of the pain I’ve ever caused him by my actions. He’s a good man, and doesn’t deserve that. While I can’t control the feelings I have for other people, I can control my physical actions. I won’t cheat. I’m sure the excitement might have been thrilling, nothing is worth losing the good man I have.

For a nanosecond, I considered it, and dismissed it. I am not perfect, but I’m working on being better. Apparently, I still need to work on that.


So different

I get in moods where I want to write, but the blinking cursor just mocks me. Sometimes the words flow, other times I can’t put my thoughts into words. I’m sitting here thinking about my life. On the surface, it seems pretty normal. I have an awesome husband, we have a house, two working vehicles, and we both work.

But below the surface, I am anything but typical. I am bisexual. That is more acknowledged now, than it was when I was young. I honestly did not know that was a legitimate sexuality. I knew what a lesbian was, but I thought you were either straight, or gay. Combined with my religious upbringing, and my ignorance, I couldn’t recognize that I was bisexual.

It took me 46 years to accept that I am bisexual. And once I did accept it, new problems arose. I love my husband, but then I was bombarded with the cravings to experience being with a woman. His thought that he should be enough. I shouldn’t want to be with a woman too. He didn’t/doesn’t understand that there is a difference between desiring a man, and a woman.

I haven’t had the experience of having sex with a woman. (And most likely, I won’t) I’ve had one sexual experience with a female. I fingered her, and I made her squirt. To me, that is a sexual act, but not quite sex. None of my clothes came off, and I wasn’t touched.

I didn’t have an emotional attachment to her. It happened in my van, in a parking lot. It wasn’t extremely satisfying for me, but it did confirm that I am physically attracted to women. And according to me friend, that makes me officially bisexual.

Not only am I bisexual, I love more than one person. Up until 4 years ago, I had no idea that it was even possible to love more than one person romantically. Then, three years ago, I fell for a third person.

In a way, the people I love show how open my heart is. My husband is ten years older than I am. He’s as white as can be. J is 18 years younger, and he’s black. Neither fact makes a difference to my heart. I do accept reality though. I was destined to love him, but not to ever be with him. I can deal with that. The third person… T is a white woman two years younger than I am. She’s married to a woman. Once again, I accept the love I have, but I know there is no relationship possible other than friendship.

So, I’m bisexual, and poly-amorous by nature. Both facts were a surprise to me. But the older I get, the more I learn about myself. There is always the thought in the back of my mind, “How could I not know that I am bisexual?” It’s kind of easy to ignore when you assume every female feels the same way towards other women.

I never had close female friends to discuss those feelings with. The attraction to males was a given. The attraction to females was never mentioned. Once again, I thought you could only be straight, or gay.

I wonder how different my life would have been had I known sooner. Would I have found a way to experiment with a female? Would I have even tried? Or would I have become self loathing, and ended my life?

I am a Christian. I don’t find a conflict between my faith, and my sexuality. I believe God made me who I am. The attraction I feel towards women is natural. Being in love with a woman is natural. But then again, being in love with two very different men is natural to me too.

I am an open minded person. I don’t have a problem with anyone until they give me a reason to have a problem. I don’t understand racism at all. How can you hate someone because of something they have absolutely no control over?

I know that I’ve written about these thoughts before. I’m like a broken record sometimes. But seeing my thoughts in print helps me to see things more clearly. I’m a simple person, but I’m also complicated. How many people can admit that they love three people romantically? It does seem bizarre, and a bit excessive.

My life seems normal, but I am not. I’m not average. I am unique. One of the most incredible things to me, is that I love three people, and they care for me too. It’s amazing to me to be on the receiving end of that love.

Sometimes, all I wanted to be, was normal. I didn’t want to be attracted to men & women. I wanted a normal body that functioned the way it’s supposed to. Instead, I got the fat genes, and I am infertile.

It’s funny how society has always told me that I’m not worthy of being loved because of what I am. But in reality, I am very well loved, and very blessed. I am not normal, and that doesn’t matter at all.

I am different. It is both a blessing, and a curse. I’m an empath, and that allows me to connect deeply with some people. I don’t have many close friends, but I have a few that mean the world to me. I love deeply.

Being different is often difficult. Being attracted to both sexes is awkward for me. I don’t know how to act. I am shy, and I get tongue tied. That’s painful.

So, I’m not normal. I get to love several people, and be loved back. I get to check out all kinds of people. I point out attractive women to my husband. (We both tend to like curvy women) I may appear normal to a casual onlooker, but I have a depth most people will never know. Being normal is over rated anyway.



Hurricane Andrew

Twenty five years ago, I was in Miami. Hurricane Andrew was approaching. I was excited, because I loved storms. I stayed out on our front porch as the storm made an appearance. The rain was salt water. The lightning flashes looked aqua. I think I was actually watching transformers blowing instead of seeing lightning.

I stayed outside as long as I could. The winds picked up, and my mom made me come inside. Inside the house were me, my parents, my sister, her husband & three kids, my brother, his wife and their four kids. The kids slept through everything.

I couldn’t sleep. The air pressure made my ears pop. There were things hitting the house. Water came pouring through the AC vent in my bedroom. (We discovered in the morning that a corner of the roof came off) Even though our front door was sort of protected, water seeped underneath.

The worst thing was the wind. It howled for hours. It seemed like it was never going to end. Finally, daylight came. The winds stopped. People ventured out of their houses. We were in disbelief. My neighborhood was hit hard, but it wasn’t completely destroyed. Our houses were built sturdy.

But just a few blocks away were newer houses. The only thing remaining of one house’s second floor was the wall frame hanging down. Those houses didn’t make it.

We went around our neighborhood. I saw a boat completely parallel up against a house. I saw huge trees completely toppled over. The bakery at the local strip mall had put up masking tape on the windows. The glass was completely gone, but the masking tape strips were still dangling.

The roof had collapsed on the Publix grocery store. The windows were broken on the liquor store, and people were reaching in for what they could grab. It was chaos.

The area I grew up in was devastated. So many things were gone. In the following days, I saw even worse than my neighborhood. My friend, Tracy, picked me up. We went to the trailer park where she used to live. Maybe 3 out of 50 homes were still standing. We went to her house. I remember her obsessing about the mold on her walls, but her house was so damaged, that it wasn’t really livable.

I went to Homestead Air Force Base with my sister, and her husband. The base was completely destroyed. The duplex she lived in was missing the roof on the east facing side. That side was empty except for the heaviest furniture. Her side was soaked because all the windows had been blown out.

I lost the job I had only had for a few weeks. I never even got my check from there. I went to the restaurant, and it was trashed.

My family was lucky. We didn’t have any running water for a few days, but it came back on. The our minister’s son-in-law was the vice president of a company, and they loaned out some of the generators they had. My parents got one because of how many people we had in the house. (My brother and his family went back home to Maryland) So we had electricity to run the fridge & some other things.

We didn’t run out of food. The Red Cross came through our neighborhood, and gave us military MRE meals. We got donations that were sent to our church.

I remember the heat. It was so hard to sleep. I tried sleeping on the back deck, but got covered in dew. I tried sleeping on our front porch, but had one of the most surreal experiences of my life.

Our porch had a three-foot high concrete wall, so it was blocked from the street. I felt safe enough there. I was sleeping, and something woke me up. I was afraid it might be looters, so I peeked over the wall. I saw a squadron of armed national guardsmen walking down my street. It was like something out of the Twilight Zone. For the first time, I was really afraid.

I stayed for about a month after the storm. I got in touch with the restaurant that I had worked at in Delaware, and the manager said I could have my job back. I thought that I had a roommate lined up too, but that didn’t work out. I left Miami. I had no idea that I wouldn’t make it back there again.

Hurricane Andrew changed my life. I didn’t lose anything physical. My car had been in the garage (it was only one small enough to fit in it) I lost my job, but that was it. I lost my home in the emotional sense. My parents moved from Miami. My family scattered all over.

It was a traumatic event in my life. I still can’t handle the sound of wind howling. Storms scare me. I get frustrated when people take storm warnings too lightly.

It did teach to me to appreciate some things more. I will never take showers for granted again. The first few days after the storm, we didn’t have water. When it rained, I would put on my bathing suit, and stand under the corner downspout to wash my hair.

Hurricane Andrew changed so many things. That was the last time I saw my sister, Sue. Her husband did drugs again, and she ended up losing her kids. My parents moved to Arkansas.

I didn’t lose things, I just lost my sense of peace. I lost my hometown. My life has felt rootless ever since. I have lived in my current home for 19 years, but it still doesn’t feel like home sometimes. I lost my sense of family, and belonging.

I am a survivor. I survived the storm. I survived the aftermath. I moved on. I will never forget the storm, it left scars on my psyche. But I did survive. I am still here. I survived a category 5 hurricane. Hurricane Andrew was the before/after event in my life. It was the dividing line for me. But I came out stronger, and I just have to remember that.





I won’t stay silent

I am 50 years old, and I am bisexual. My husband can not understand why I mention it. He says that since there are people who would kill me for that fact, so why don’t I remain silent? Because I am not going to let those people win.

It is highly unlikely that I will ever have a romantic, or sexual relationship with a woman. I am married to a man. I pass as straight. I could stay quiet, but I won’t. I don’t walk up to people, and announce my sexuality, but I will talk about it when the subject comes up. I blog about it, because seeing my thoughts in print sometimes helps me deal with things better. I will post on Twitter or Facebook regard LGBT issues.

I won’t silence myself to make other people comfortable. I do not have to accept their hatred, or bigotry. I have lost “friends”. I was told by my own sister that I have the devil in me. That hurt. Nothing I say will change her opinion that it’s a choice, but I can call her on her shit.

I didn’t come out until I was 46. I haven’t spent my entire life in fear of being discovered. I accepted it as a middle aged adult, in a committed relationship. I had no fear of losing anything/anyone of value. That has made me sort of bold. I didn’t have to worry about losing jobs, or housing.

I speak about being bisexual, because I can. Because maybe there is someone out there who needs to hear that it’s normal. That we aren’t freaks just because we are attracted to men, and women.

I have been attracted to women my entire life. It always seemed natural to me. In a way, that was my saving grace. Before I accepted my sexuality, I accepted that you can’t control who you are attracted to, or who you fall in love with. It just happens. Society can tell you that it’s not normal, because they don’t understand it. But, it is normal. Just because it’s not common, doesn’t mean that it’s wrong.

My husband wishes that I wasn’t bi. He was happy thinking that he was all I’d ever want. I love him dearly, but a part of me will always crave a woman. I hate that it effects him negatively. In all honesty, if I could choose to not be bisexual, I would. But I can’t. It is as much of my DNA as having green eyes.

My name is Ellen, and I am bisexual. I am attracted to, and can fall in love with a man, or a woman. I should not have to fear losing my job, my home, or my life because of it. I shouldn’t have to fight for equal rights because of it. I shouldn’t be told I’m going to hell because of the way God made me.

I’m sorry that it bothers my husband, but I honestly don’t care what anyone else thinks about it. I can’t change what I am. It isn’t a choice. I could stay silent, and pass as being straight, but I won’t. Too many people have suffered because of who they are. I have a voice, and even if only one person hears it, I will speak the truth.



I am 50 years old, and I still don’t know what my purpose in life is. My life has been strange. People have been born because of me, and people have died because of me. People have lived because of me.

Nothing about me has ever been normal. I have been different my entire life. I am shy, and introverted. I’ve always been chubby/fat. I’m not very feminine. I have social anxiety.

I have hurt people, and I have helped people. I have loved, and been loved. People have hated me.

I am bisexual. Some people ask why that’s important. It’s important because I am able to love, no matter their gender. It took me most of my life to accept that. I lost 46 years of being able to know what it was to be bisexual.

I will never really know why I couldn’t accept it earlier. Maybe it was religion. Maybe it was society. Maybe it was my homophobic brother. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t ready to know.

Sometimes I envy people who know when they’re young. They get that chance to explore when their bodies, and minds are young.  I’m older. I don’t have those chances. It’s not impossible for me to explore, but it’s not likely.

The last four years have been a roller coaster ride for me. I had my amazing husband, but I managed to fall in love with two more people. The second person was an absolute shock. I had no idea that it was even possible to love more than one person.

I learned to accept it though. I accepted that I loved him, but I could not be with him. I made peace with it. Then something even more surprising happened. I fell in love with a woman. Once again, I had to accept that I loved her, but there was no way to be with her.

So, I love three very different people. I am blessed when it comes to love. I don’t think that I am worthy of that love. I don’t deserve my husband. It makes me sad to know that I have caused him pain because of the other two.

My life is strange. I’m very well loved. I don’t know why God put any of them in my life, but I’m grateful.

I’ve been watching the latest season of Degrassi: the Next Class. I know it’s meant for kids, but some story lines touched me too. Like Miles being bisexual. I know that being gay is not easy, but sometimes I think it’s easier than being bi.

My sexuality is not a major part of my life, but it’s always right there. I’m attracted to men, and I am attracted to women. Sometimes I want to scream in frustration. I want so badly to be intimate with a woman, and I can’t.

People are like, “Just go find a woman”. I wish it were that simple. Men are simple. I could have sex with another guy without any trouble looking. Women are so much more difficult. So, sex with men is possible, but sex with a woman is not likely.

I have accepted that. Life goes on. I won’t get to know what certain things feel like.

I don’t even know why I’m writing this post. I’ve blogged about this before. I accept that I love three people. I accept that I can’t be with two of them.

I accept that I am not average. I still have no clue why I exist, but here I am. Life is funny. I exist, and I am loved. Maybe that’s the most important thing after all.



I am 50 years old now, and I have more than my share of regrets. I think my biggest regret was that it took 46 years for me to accept that I am bisexual. I didn’t suddenly become bi, it just took me that long to learn that the feelings I’ve had my entire life made it a fact.

Imagine not knowing such a basic fact about yourself like what your own sexuality is. I’ve always been attracted to other females, I didn’t know that not every female felt the same way. I didn’t know that what I felt about my fourth grade teacher was in fact a crush, and not just admiring her.

Facts…I am bisexual. One of my earliest memories was looking at a porn magazine, and liking the pictures of women. I didn’t know what sex was. I didn’t know that I wasn’t supposed to like seeing those women. I didn’t know that some people considered it “unnatural”. It felt natural to me.

Because I was also attracted to males, I didn’t feel weird. I didn’t think that I was odd. I looked at porn when I came across it (considering this was the 70s & 80s, I saw quite a bit for such a sheltered child)  I knew porn was supposed to be “wrong”, so I felt guilty about that, but not because I was looking at women.

I didn’t accept myself until I was 46. I had been married for 20 years at that point. A year after that, my husband agreed to let me explore. I’m sure in his mind, he thought there wasn’t a chance of me finding someone to explore with. I did go on a few dates with a lesbian I met on Craigslist.

That was a rather bizarre experience, mostly because she was a rather flaky person. But she did do one thing, she gave me my one and only sexual experience with another female. I got her off, but she didn’t touch me. I kind of still think of myself as a virgin when it comes to female sex. My fingering her was the equivalent to giving a blow job to a man. It is a sex act, but not actual intercourse.

So my regret stems from coming out so late in life. I didn’t get the chance to explore when I was younger, and not so self conscience. I’m 50, and going through menopause now. My body has changed. I don’t think I could ever relax enough to actually get naked, and have sex with a woman. I regret that I will not get to experience that kind of intimacy.

I am bisexual, and I crave that intimacy. I want to touch another woman. I want to snuggle with her. I want to be close, and be able to caress her. I want the stupid, and sappy things. Just because I am married to a man I love deeply, that doesn’t stop me from wanting those things. I am not greedy, and I’m not selfish. I am biologically wired to want those things.

I wish that I had known that I was bi when I was younger. But I don’t think I was mature enough to deal with it. I was raised in a religious household. I was heavily involved in church, and I went to a Christian college for two years. Even if I had known, I was too shy and introverted to even attempt to meet a woman for the purpose of dating.

There are times when I wish that I was still ignorant. I wish that I still thought that I was straight. Why did I have to learn it? I suppose that I needed to know. I fell in love with a woman. There is nothing I can do about that. I am married to my husband, and she is married to her wife. Why did that have to happen?

I think that is one of the most bittersweet events in my life.  I have the knowledge that I can love a woman in a romantic way. I also have the knowledge that all I can do is love her, and accept that it isn’t something that was meant to become a relationship. I can live with that.

The irony is, we both lived in Miami when I was in my early 20s. She literally worked right across the street from me. But I met her online 25 years later. There will always be that “what if” in my mind. Even if nothing happened, I wish I could have met her, and just have known her then.

I do have regrets that it took me so long to figure things out. But it wasn’t meant to happen sooner. I’m not sure why it had to happen at all. The knowledge has caused grief. It has caused problems in my marriage. It’s like showing someone a bakery window, but telling them that they aren’t allowed inside to try anything.

If I had accepted my sexuality in my youth, where would I be now? I most likely wouldn’t be around at all. I wouldn’t be married to my husband.

They say everything happens for a reason. I believe God made me this way.  So, at the very least, I don’t have an issue with believing it’s wrong or unnatural. I will just always wonder why it took me so long to come to terms with it.

Do I regret that I am bisexual? Sometimes I do. It has caused problems. It is troubling to know that there are people who would kill me because of it. It annoys me that people fetishize it, or think that my sexuality exists because it increases their chance of having a threesome.

I think I most regret the idea I will not get to experience being intimate with a woman. It’s not impossible for it to happen, but it’s extremely unlikely. I have regrets, but they are about things that can’t be changed now. Maybe things will change, but for now, I just have to be content with how things are.





The best kind of Trouble

I was scrolling through the pictures saved on my computer. I came across the one she sent me of her shirt open, and her lacy bra showing. It was not a risqué picture, but it was still sexy as hell.

I like looking a pictures of curvy women. That’s what I seem to be attracted to. But she’s on the thinner side, and small breasted. I’m attracted to her whole package. I enjoy looking at her body, because it holds her soul.

She has the most gorgeous smile. I wish I could see it in person. I wish that I could meet her, but it’s highly unlikely. I fell in love with her. She’s so funny, and smart that I was doomed from the start.

Loving her has been bittersweet. I know nothing can ever come of it. Even our friendship has dwindled. But I’m grateful that I got to know her. I’m grateful that I discovered that I loved her.

Sometimes I look at the pictures of her, and they make me smile. Sometimes they make me cry. They make me wish that I could have met her 30 years ago. She was literally right across the street from me then, but I didn’t know she existed.

I heard from her a few weeks ago. I was happy to know that she was alright. I was sad to hear where she had been. She’s dealt with so many sad things over the last few years. I just want to protect her, and make sure that she’s safe and happy. She’s a tough, and strong woman, and can take care of herself. But I wish I could shield her from the bad things.

I love another woman. It’s been a joy, and it’s brought sadness to my life. I call her Trouble because she was such a surprise to me. I won’t get to be with her, ever, but she’s in my heart. I will be content with that.



Lessons learned

I haven’t posted in a while. A few years ago, I was all wrapped in being in love with a friend. Also with the newly discovered truth that I was bisexual. My life was in an upheaval. My emotions were all over the place.

I have learned to accept things that really don’t make any logical sense. How can you love more than one person romantically? Some people never find love with one person. I discovered that I can love several people at the same time. I also learned that there aren’t always happy endings. Sometimes you need to accept the reality of loving someone you can’t ever be with it. You accept it, and learn to let go.

I’ve learned that love can change forms many times. From friends to want to be lovers, back to friends. You can fall out of love, while still loving the person. You can love someone, but be happy that they have the right person for them.

I was in love with three people at the same time. It still boggles my mind, so I don’t really expect anyone else to understand it. My husband, is, and always will be, my soul mate. He is my “home”. He doesn’t understand how I could love anyone other than him. I told him that maybe he loved me so well, that I had more love to share.

I’m no longer in love with three people. I will always love them, but the wishful thinking is gone. I’m good with being friends.

My life has changed so much in four years. Yeah, I’m bisexual. Big deal. It’s not like I can go out and get laid by a woman every weekend. Well, technically I can. I do have my husband’s permission to be with a woman/have a girlfriend. But the reality is, not many women want a middle aged, married to a man, novice lover.

I did try dating. That didn’t work out very well. Although, I did get one sexual experience out of it. How many people can say they made a woman squirt on their first time? (I can)

For the first year after coming out (I was 46) all I could do was moan about the lack of opportunities. Then my husband said I could explore. He knew I had very little chance of finding the friend with benefits I wanted. So it was a win/win situation for him. He got to look generous, while knowing the opportunity probably wouldn’t present itself.

Now, at almost 50, I just accept that I probably won’t get the chance to have a relationship with a woman. One of the three people I fell in love with, is a woman. I’m grateful that I did fall for her. I know that I am capable of loving a woman romantically. It doesn’t matter that she is way out of my reach. It just gives me peace to know that I am capable of loving a woman romantically too.

So, the lessons I’ve learned in four years:

  1. Yes, I am bisexual. I always have been, I just didn’t know how to read the signs
  2. I can love several people at once. It’s kind of exhausting, but it is possible
  3. You can fall out of love
  4. Sometimes letting go brings the most peace
  5. Love takes work. Whether it’s just friendship, or something more, it takes effort
  6. You can love someone, but not want to contact them
  7. I will always regret that I didn’t accept being bisexual sooner
  8. I have been selfish, and have hurt my husband with my actions
  9. Menopause sucks. I’m grateful that my hormones have settled down, But I miss sex
  10. You can’t control who you fall in love with.

My life is weird. I never would have thought any of these things were possible. Well, surprise, all kinds of strangeness can happen.

I started this post wanting to talk about something is, but it’s not my business to tell. I’m tired. I worked graveyard shift last night. The hours suit me because I’m a night owl, but it wrecks havoc on the rest of my life.

Things have changed in the last 10 months, for the better. I got a job, our home loan was paid off, so we actually have money again. It’s a relief to not have to worry about which utility payment was going to be late again.

I really have changed. My reckless behavior has stopped. I stopped trying to find excitement online. I let go of some toxic people in my life.

There is a part of me that thinks I’ve had a good life, but the adventures are over. Maybe they are, but then again, surprises happen every day. I guess I’ll just see what comes next.






I have changed

I’ve been fairly quiet on here recently. I used to post constantly about being in love with more than one person. That has changed. I’m not in love with more than one person now. My husband has my whole heart again.

I still love the other two people, but I’m not in love with them. I gave up. The last time I spoke to her in August, she told me I was a very important person in her life. But I haven’t heard anything from since then. I don’t know if she’s alive. I had to let go for my sanity. I never thought we had any chance of a relationship, but I honestly miss the friendship.

With him, falling out of love came in stages. Certain things happened that chipped away at it. He lied to me. He made promises he never intended on keeping. He manipulated me. He tried to gaslight me, telling me I never said things that I know damn well that I said. He told me to go to hell more than once, knowing that I am a Christian, and I believe in hell. He blames everyone else for his actions.

I always knew from the start that we couldn’t have a relationship, but I was still in love with him. But too many things have happened for those feelings to remain. I will always love him, because that is just the person I am. I probably could have stayed in love with him if he had been a different type of person.

I dealt with things by convincing myself that it was meant to happen. That he needed me to prepare for his soulmate. But things have changed with her, and it’s honestly thrown me into some turmoil. If they aren’t meant to be, why did it all happen?

A few nights ago, I wasn’t responding to his verbal bait. I refuse to engage/argue anymore. He told me that I changed. Damn right that I’ve changed. I won’t be manipulated. I’m not going to waste my energy like I used to. At some point, I decided that enough was enough.

Letting go is a relief. I was torn in too many directions. I am so grateful for my husband. He let me deal with things in my own time. He let it die a natural death. He’s a good man. Way too good for me. All of my experiences in the last four years have taught me one thing, and that the man I have is all that I need.

Things have changed with my husband and me as well. Sex used to be such a big factor in our marriage. It’s caused much pleasure, but also caused conflict. It appears that I’m passed my midlife crisis. All the risky behaviors, and the obsession with sex has passed. Although we have gone from the once a day as newlyweds, to once a week as a long time married couple, we still connect emotionally.

I’m not the person I was 4 years ago. I have come to terms to accepting my bisexuality. I honestly don’t like it, and wish it was a choice, but it isn’t one. I no longer obsess about finding a girlfriend/FWB. If it ever happens, that would be wonderful. But I don’t seek anyone else. I don’t engage with horny men online anymore. At one point, I liked doing that, but I don’t now.  It’s too much of a waste of mental energy.

I have changed, physically and mentally. I let go of so many things. I just don’t have the energy for them anymore. My friends are just friends again. No more mooning over them. I am an older, married woman. I love my husband. He’s been the one constant in my life for 24 years now.

I was told that I had changed. It was meant as an insult, but I will accept it as a compliment. I am not what I used to be. I am not too happy about some physical changes, but I am happy about the person I turned out to be. I have always had so much love to give, and I hope that never changes. But I won’t be drawn into being in love. I have the love of my life, and I will be grateful for that the rest of my life.



This post was written in 2014

Life is weird. Love is even stranger. I fell in love with someone I can never be with. I know this, and I accept it. But I can’t say goodbye to him. He started out as a friend, and he’ll always remain a friend. And there is the problem, how do you remains friends with someone you fell in love with? Normal conversations you could have with a regular friend take on a different meaning with someone that you have loved, and had a sexual thing with (even if it was only online).

I am happy he found his person. He deserves to be happy. I want to go back to being just friends. I want to be able to joke about things like before. I don’t want to think about him in ways I shouldn’t be thinking. Is it even possible to go back to just being friends when you’ve already crossed that line?

I know the right thing to do for my marriage is to say goodbye, and break off contact. But I can’t do that. I don’t want to lose J as a friend. My husband knows about J, and he hates it, but he deals with it because he loves me.

I talk to J almost daily online. We try to keep it light. We talk about my husband, we talk about his girlfriend, we talk about life in general. We talk alot. Sometimes our conversations enter territory they shouldn’t. Sometimes we can change the subject, and sometimes we can’t.

It is so bizarre to love someone I’ve never met, but yet, I feel like I have a connection to him. It’s bizarre to have feelings I didn’t even know were possible, or that I didn’t want. If I had even known such feelings were a possibility, I wouldn’t have started talking to him. But who could have known that me asking him if he was ok would lead to such things? I certainly didn’t. He didn’t either.

Accidentally falling in love with someone doesn’t change the fact that I fell in love with someone other than my husband. Judge me all you want, but that was never my intention. I didn’t flirt, and I certainly never lead him on. I just liked talking to him.

The funny thing about falling in love online is the fact that you really do fall for the person. I didn’t even really know what he looked like. Actually, if I had known what he looks like, I probably wouldn’t have talked to him. Talk about reverse discrimination, not talking to someone because they are too good looking. I knew the basics, he was younger than me, and he was black. But that doesn’t matter when you make friends.

Anyway, now I love a man I can never be with. I’m ok with that. We aren’t ever meant to be together. We are too much alike in some ways, and way too different in other ways. But, the fact is, I love him. So a part of me still wants to be with him. But mostly, I want to go back to the easy days of being friends. I don’t want to feel jealousy. (Ironically, I’m not jealous of his girlfriend, but of his ex girlfriend)

Sometimes being in love sucks.



I found this post in my drafts from three years ago. Things have changed, and yet, they haven’t. I still love J, but I think this time I can really say that I’m not in love anymore. Too many things have happened, and I have changed. I will always love him as a friend. But the wanting to be with him is gone.

I would like to be able to hang out with him as a friend, but I don’t know if that will ever be possible. One thing I have learned, is that anything is possible, even if it isn’t probable. We fight, but always seem to make up. I have no idea what you would label our relationship, but it’s ours.

Things have changed. I have changed. I no longer allow certain things to slide. If he decides to leave because of it, then so be it. I’m just trying to deal with things in whatever way I can.

Things have changed & I have changed

short story

First Date (fiction)

Elizabeth woke up gradually. First thing she became aware of, was how sore her body was. It ached in places she didn’t know existed. She then noticed there was someone sleeping beside her, butt pressed up against butt. Then she realized the dire need to urinate was what had awakened her.

She got out of bed, a little startled to notice she was completely naked. She never slept naked. She looked around, and spotted the door to the attached bathroom, and hurried inside.

She flipped the light on, and pulled the door closed. She took care of business, and stood up. She caught a look of herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, the curls standing out every way possible. She noticed the breasts that had lost the war on the gravity, the laugh lines around her eyes. She noticed the signs of her middle age.

But she noticed something different, an aura of sexuality. The memories came flooding back to her. Meeting Chris last night, the fun conversation at dinner, the drive to his house, the kiss that burned like the sun, the sex. Oh, my god….the sex. She blushed, remembering how he had teased and pleased her.

She had met Chris online, on an app that was supposed to be anonymous. She had vented about being stood up for a date, and he had private messaged her. He was intelligent, and funny. He made her laugh. He flirted with her, making her feel desirable. After being blown off, that was a balm to her wounded soul.

They didn’t exchange pictures right away, she didn’t want to know what he looked like. And she didn’t want him to see her. But after weeks of conversation, she gave in and sent him some of her. The silence after sending sent her in panic. She assumed he saw them, and left. She was disappointed, but resigned.

An hour later, he reappeared, and apologized. His dog had knocked over a glass, and broke it, and it had to be cleaned up. He complimented her pictures, said she was gorgeous. And replied with pictures of his own.

They hadn’t discussed age before, but it was glaringly obvious he was much younger than she was. She asked his age, he was 30 to her 45. Her heart sank. He was 15 years younger. Somehow, the age difference changed everything to her.

But it didn’t matter to him. The flirting increased. The chat became more sexual. The texting turned into phone calls. The calls became very sexual. She would lay on her bed, and please herself while talking to him.

Then he suggested meeting. She was hesitant, she didn’t want to ruin the enjoyment she had with him. But she was curious to meet him, he had caused a dramatic change to her life. She had gone from being so straight laced, to learning to enjoy her own body. She agreed to meet him.

She dressed in an aqua colored top that showed off her cleavage, it was amazing what a push up bra could accomplish. She was wearing a short, black skirt that showed off her legs, and a pair of short heels. Her long auburn curls fell loose down her back.

She felt slightly ridiculous. She half expected to get stood up again. She sat on the bench next to the entrance, waiting. He had wanted to pick her up, but she didn’t want him knowing where she lived. He was late. Her phone rang, it was him. She waited for the excuse. He said, “I’m driving, so can’t talk, but I’m on my way. Please don’t leave.” And hung up.

So, she sat there, feeling uncomfortable. Minutes passed. She played on her phone, and got engrossed in a conversation on Twitter. She forgot where she was. She heard someone clear their throat, and looked up. It was Chris.

He was tall, over 6 foot. He had light brown hair, and surprisingly green eyes. And he was  in his formal dress, military uniform. Her heart stopped. He was gorgeous. He had a smile on his face, and was holding a small bouquet of what appeared to be home grown roses with the stems wrapped in aluminum foil.

He held out his other hand to her, she slipped her hand in his, and stood up. She felt a faint shock, like an electrical charge jumped from his hand to hers. She just looked at their hands, not wanting to move.

She looked up his face again. He was easily a foot taller than she was. He looked at her, and  smiled. She couldn’t stop the smile that appeared on her face.

He held out the roses to her. She took them in her other hand, and held them up to her nose. Her curls fell forward against her cheek. He used his free hand to brush them back, and tuck them behind her ear. Then he touched her cheek, the lightest, most gentle touch.

Chris said, “I’m sorry that I’m late, my meeting with my bosses took longer than expected. I didn’t have time to change, but I wanted to make sure I got the roses for you. I didn’t have time for a visit to the florist.”

Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. “So, where did you get these? They smell heavenly.”

Chris said, “I grow them. Gardening is a good stress relief. I learned from my mom to wrap the stems with wet paper towels, and the aluminum foil to keep them fresh.”

Elizabeth realized her hand was still in his. He didn’t seem to eager to let it loose. She reluctantly pulled her hand out of his. “Don’t you think we should go inside?”

He agreed, and they went inside, and were seated at a booth in the corner. The restaurant wasn’t busy since it was past the dinner hour. So they were tucked away from everyone else.

Elizabeth felt suddenly shy. She could talk online, and on the phone with no problem, but in person, it wasn’t so easy. She looked at him, and he was looking at her. His eyes were a mossy, green color. He had a crooked smile with one dimple. She couldn’t help by smile at him. That smile made her feel at ease, and the conversation flowed.

He flirted with her, and she flirted back. She wasn’t sexually inexperienced, but she hadn’t had any recent experiences. He teased her. He made her laugh. She caught him starring at her cleavage, and she leaned forward to give him a better look.

When she realized what she was doing, she blushed, and sat back in the booth. Then she excused herself, and went to the restroom. She looked in the mirror, and almost didn’t recognize herself. It was her, but it was as if some flirty, sexy woman had taken over her body. She just laughed, readjusted her breasts in the push up bra, and walked back to the table. She didn’t even notice the males watching her as she walked past them. But Chris did.

When she got to the table, it had been mostly cleared off, and a tip was sitting on the table. She sat down, and looked at Chris. Was their night going to end there?

He excused himself to go to the restroom. She picked up the roses, and smelled them again. Each rose was different, and had it’s own scent. She wondered if he was doing a dine, and dash. Making the excuse to go the restroom, and leave. The server walked to the table, and asked if she’d like a refill, she said no. Then Elizabeth asked about the bill, the server said it had been paid already. Well, at least he didn’t ditch her with the bill.

Elizabeth wondered how long she should wait. It seemed like it was taking him a long time. But then he appeared, and looked angry. She asked him why.

He had been on the phone with his ex wife.She had somehow found out that he was on a date, and was trying to ruin it. He said he had told her to mind her own business, told her if she needed to contact him, she had to go through his attorney. Then he blocked her number.

Chris stood up, and held out his hand to her. She slipped her hand into his, and he helped her up. They walked to the door together, his hand at her waist. He made it obvious that this was a date. Elizabeth noticed the glances of the people they passed.

When they got outside, Elizabeth felt awkward. She didn’t know what to do. Chris leaned down and kissed her. It was more than a peck. The kiss was hinting at much more to come. When he stepped back, she looked into his eyes. She could see the desire in them. She knew their first date was not over yet.




Take a chance

Life is strange. Life is weird, unexpected, and bizarre. Life is frustrating. Life is sad. 2016 was a year filled with so many emotions. I’ve learned to let go. I’ve learned to hold on. I’ve learned that feelings can grow, and evolve.

I’ve learned that I can love more than I ever imagined. I’ve learned that people can mean so much more than I thought possible. I have learned that some things make no sense, that you just have to accept them, and keep living.




A different way of seeing things

I had an experience tonight that pointed out why it’s important to have friends in other race, age and economic groups to interact with. There is a story within a story, so be patient.

Some background here. I work midnight shift in a doughnut/coffee shop. A homeless guy came in at the beginning of my shift to get out of the rain/get warm. I had no problem with that. I did have a problem when he started bugging customers to buy him stuff. A young girl bought him a sandwich, an order of hash browns and a hot chocolate. A guy bought him a doughnut. I told the manager about it. The guy left, then came back in again. The manager gave him some doughnuts, and told him to leave.

Ok, my shift ends at 6am (supposedly). At 5:45, a cop comes in. He wants 2 doughnuts, but he said his card was already declined elsewhere, because someone got into his account. He tried it, but it was declined. At that point, I had a few dollars in my pocket from tips. I paid for his doughnuts. He didn’t expect it, or ask for it.

When I got home, I posted about the cop on Whisper. A nearby college student messaged me. She told me she was broke, and hungry. I told her to ask on Whisper. She asked me for food. I knew I was going to lunch with my husband to a local sub shop. I told her that if she could get there, I’d buy her a sub. She tells me that she’s a vegetarian. Oh, well.

She wanted me to go shopping for vegetarian food, pack it up, and send it to her. I offered her food, and she turned it down. I don’t have the money to be sending care packages. I just left the conversation then. I offered to help, but I’m not catering to someone I don’t know.

Okay… here’s the other part of the story. I was telling that story to J. I thought it was something different to talk about. I am a middle aged, middle class, white woman. J is 31, black, and is from the “hood” (his word, not mine) We don’t see things from the same point of view.

So, instead of thinking the college girl story was odd, he asked me why I bought a cop doughnuts. I said because his card was declined, and I wanted to be nice. Without knowing about the homeless guy, he asked me if I would have bought a homeless person something. I said, Maybe, but I don’t usually have cash in my pocket there.

He became fixated on me paying for a cop’s doughnuts, rather than the story I was telling about the picky college girl asking for food. Cops are people too. Most of them are good people, and some are assholes. I just wanted to do something nice for a person.

Because J is younger, and black, he sees cops as a threat. I can understand that, because of all the publicized events that have happened in recent history. I do not have any personal knowledge of it. He has told me before that he has had a talk with his teen aged nephew about what to do if he gets pulled over. I find it incredibly sad that such a thing is a necessity, but I know it is.

With my background, and experience, cops have been good people. They do hard work, in bad conditions, for not much money. With his background, he has learned that they aren’t always good, and are frequently the opposite. That because of his skin color, he is seen as a threat, and a target to law enforcement.

My whiteness protects me from some of the harsher realities of life. My middle to lower class lifestyle doesn’t draw attention to me. I don’t know what it’s like to live with a target on me. He has experienced the opposite.

In my mind, when I was telling him about the girl, I thought that was the interesting part of the story. I only mentioned the cop/doughnuts as background to why she was asking me for food. But he latched on to the cop in the story.

He told me that sometimes things like that is where our different backgrounds conflict. He’s right. In his mind, I was probably enabling a racist government agency. In my mind, I was being nice to a guy having a bad night, who just happened to work for the police.

So, I tell a story. He sees something in the story that was background information to me. He saw me buying the doughnuts for a police officer as stranger than some girl begging me for food, then turning it down because she’s a vegetarian.

We all see things from our own perspective. I was in a car accident once. I was t-boned from the passenger side. I saw the windshield glass dropping piece by piece, it looked like raindrops falling from tree branches after a storm has passed. I heard the Amy Grant song playing on the cassette player, even though the dash looked like an accordion. I smelled the overwhelming smell of Calvin Klein’s Obsession. That was my experience. Other people just saw a horrible accident.

I can’t know what he is thinking about things, unless he tells me. We have had several fights because our perceptions of things don’t match. He sees things differently than I do. He doesn’t have my age, and experience.

He helps shake me up at times. I need to see things from his point of view. And he needs to see mine. Yes, I have feelings for him. But I think one of the reasons I get upset if I think that he’s gone, is because I would be losing the one friend who opens my eyes to things. He shows me that there can be other ways to see things.

I’ve had friends in England and Wales who point out differences. I thought that saltine crackers were universal. I was surprised to learn that they aren’t. I didn’t know. I try to learn, but I will still see things from my own experiences. It’s just how we are.



I don’t get it

I don’t understand people. I don’t understand how they get enjoyment from lying to people who have never done them any harm.

One example happened just the other day. Some guy started talking to me on Whisper. He told me he was 27. He also sent a picture of a very fit, white guy.

A few hours later, I see a post where he says he’s 31, and looking for someone to cheat on his wife with. So I replied how funny it was that he aged 4 years in a couple of hours. A woman messaged me, and told me that he claimed he was 31, and had sent her pictures of a fit, black guy. When she asked to see his face, he blocked her.

So apparently, this particular guy is a catfish. He had tried to get me to send pictures of me, and I wouldn’t. I didn’t like the vibes I was getting from him. I especially didn’t like being called “babe”.

I posted before about asking my husband for an open marriage. I had one particular guy in mind for that. But…as soon as I asked my husband, this guy ghosted me. It seems it was just a game to him. He got me to want him, but he just wanted to make a fool out of me.

So, yeah, he got me. I was a fool for believing anything he told me. I hope he enjoyed himself. I’m just glad that I didn’t actually develop emotions for him. I just wanted to have sex with him.

Why do people lie? I have a difficult time lying. It just isn’t in my nature. Other people couldn’t tell the truth if it bit them on the nipple.

I just texted the guy who made me ask for the open marriage. I honestly don’t want him anymore. but I want to know why he did it. Was it to laugh at my expense? Was it just to waste his time while he was at work?

He probably won’t answer me. Cowards never own up to their actions. But I had to ask. I have a feeling it will just be one of those things I’ll always wonder about.

I’m mostly an honest person. If you ask me a question point blank, I will probably answer honestly. There is an 99% chance that it will be the complete honesty. So, I don’t understand liars. Why jerk me around?


I am fat

No, I am not putting myself down. I am describing myself. I’m a big woman, calling it plus sized, queen sized or me a BBW doesn’t change the fact.

I actually had someone get offended because I called myself fat. She was angry because I used the word. I have a mirror, I am well aware that I am a big person. What right did she have to get angry on my behalf?

It amuses me when someone throws the word “fat” at me like it’s an insult. It doesn’t hurt me, it’s just a word. It only shows how unintelligent they are. That’s the worst insult they could come up with?

I tell them that, yes, I am fat. And my fat ass gets more action than they do. They usually shut up after that. They can’t think of a come back.

What is even more annoying, is when people act like I am not allowed to be happy. That no one could possibly love me, or want me. I have been with my husband for 24 years. He has loved me completely the entire time. He still gets turned on by me. I get hit on/flirted with often. I’m actually surprised how many men enjoy bigger women.

I know that being overweight is not healthy. It would solve several of my health issues if I lost more weight. But being fat does not mean I’m miserable. It doesn’t mean that I can’t enjoy life. It doesn’t mean that I can’t have sex either. I don’t do many things that thinner women can do, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t enjoy what I have.

I have noticed something. The people that like to mock me for being bigger, are the ones who are usually miserable with themselves. They have to try to tear someone else down, to make themselves better. I will never understand that.

Yes, I am fat. I also have green eyes, and long hair. It is one part of my being. It does not define me. You want to know something else? I’m also sexy. Because sexy isn’t a size or shape, it’s an attitude. I enjoy sex, and people are drawn to that. And for some reason, that makes people angry.

I am what I am, no one said you had to like it. I live my life by my standards. My husband’s opinion of me is basically the only one I worry about. I am my own kind of beautiful. If someone doesn’t agree, they can keep it to themselves.





Turning it off

I wish there was a way to turn off feelings. I’m so tired of feeling too much. I’m tired of loving too much. I’m tired of hurting my husband because I can’t control who I love.

I’m tired of being hurt because of the people I love. I’m tired of people telling me that I’m important to them, but their actions prove the complete opposite. I’m tired of someone wanting me to hold on to them, when they do their best to hurt me.

I’m just tired. I’m tired of being used. I’m tired of people wanting what I can no longer give.

I’ve started to withdraw from everyone. I’m trying to let go of things. I don’t have the energy to deal with people, and the emotions they bring with them.

I used to pity people who didn’t know love, but now, I envy them. Loving hurts. Wanting someone you can’t have hurts. Having those feelings hurts the one man who loves me completely. He’s the one person I never want to hurt, but I do it constantly. I hate myself for that.

I just want it to stop. But I can’t make myself let go. I think the feelings leave, but all that happens is that I bury them for a short time. They always resurface.

I suppose my solution would be to cut them out of my life. But I can’t seem to do that. I don’t know why. Part of me needs them. I don’t know what I’m going to do. Knowing what to do, and actually doing it are two very different things. One day I will let go. I just have no idea when it will happen.


I don’t remember the first time…

You hear about love at first sight. That didn’t happen to me. I don’t remember the first time I saw David’s face. He was a customer at Denny’s. He was attractive, tall, with blue eyes, and brown hair. He had a strong resemblance to my favorite actor, Jimmy Stewart.

He always sat at the counter, and I talked to him as often as I could. I should have known something was different about him when I spent my entire break, standing there, talking to him. But I didn’t notice.

In hindsight, I flirted with him for months. I liked him, he was funny, and he had just come back to Delaware from south Florida. I was homesick for Miami. He was also navy. My family is/was heavily involved in the military, so that made me predisposed to like him.

1992 was a bad year for me. David was the one good thing that came out of that year. We didn’t start dating until January of ’93, but I got to know him in ’92.

I fell in love with my husband at Denny’s. It happened gradually, naturally. I can’t tell you when exactly it happened, because I don’t know. I do know that on on our first date, I knew that I’d marry him.

Sometimes I feel kind of cheated. I didn’t have that thunderbolt moment with him. I had a small ember that grew to a steady flame. Our relationship has never been Hollywood typical. I asked him out on an impulse. I was shocked when he said yes. Our first two dates were disasters. He proposed to me over the phone.

I look at him now, and I see the changes in his hair, I see the lines on his face, I see how much he resembles his mother. I still see the love for me in his eyes. None of the other stuff matters.

Twenty four years later, and the love is stronger than it’s ever been. We’ve been through some bad times, but we are still together. So, I don’t remember the first time I ever saw his face, but he is forever etched in my heart now.



In the winter of 1986, I was 18. I was in my first year of college, and dating a guy named, Bob. I had no idea that my future husband was stationed in Jacksonville, Florida. Or that the second man I would love, hadn’t even been born yet.

February of 1986, my first boyfriend dumped me, by note. He handed me the note before chapel (mandatory) so that I couldn’t even ask him about it. He didn’t have the balls to tell me himself. February of 1986…J was born. I was getting dumped when J was a newborn.

When I think about the age difference, it seems so strange. It ultimately doesn’t matter, because there is no way we could be a couple. But, just the thought that I was 18 when he was born is bizarre. He’s a month older than the nephew who is like a son to me.

My husband is ten years older than I am. He was in high school when I was in kindergarten. Yes, that sounds strange too. But I met him when I was 25, and he was turning 35. The age difference didn’t bother me at all then.

Fast forward 24 years…the age difference does matter now. Time has taken its toll on both of us. We can’t do the things we once could. The once a day sex has become once or twice a week now. Forty nine and fifty nine are so much different.

When I first discovered that I loved J, I was 46. He was 27. Besides the fact that I was already married, and loved my husband, the age difference shocked me. I wasn’t so amazed that I loved him (even though I was blindsided when I realized it), but that he loved me back was incredible.

Winter of 2017, I am 49, J will be 31. I still love him, although the love has changed form so many times. Does the age difference matter? Sometimes it does. I had an entire lifetime lived before he even took a breath. He has always lived with the internet, and cell phones. I remember TV having 6 channels, and I was the remote. I can’t always see things from his point of view, and he has no memory of events that affected my life.

Life is strange. We put so much importance into things like ages. But, why? Does it really make a difference? I think maturity is more of an issue. Some people are old souls, and are mature at a young age. Some people never grow up. Physically, the age difference is an issue. If I had met my husband when I was 15, and he was 25, that would have been a problem. If I had a physical relationship with J, age would be major issue.

Age is just a number after all. It only describes the amount of time we’ve been alive. It doesn’t take into count maturity, or life experience. It also doesn’t account for a connection between two people. My husband is ten years old than me. He is also my soulmate. J is 18 years younger than I am, and we have a strong connection that I can’t describe, or explain.

The numbers do matter, but they aren’t really as important as people make them out to be. Humphrey Bogart was 44, and Lauren Becall was 19 when they met. They married, and stayed that way until his death in 1957. Sometimes that spark is the most important thing.





Equilibrium returns

It’s been a weird few days. I thought I lost my best friend. It upset me more than I thought possible. I got drunk last night, and that’s not something I do often. But we talked again, and we’re ok now.

We have a relationship that isn’t just a friendship, but isn’t a romance. We have an unusual connection, and I can’t explain it. Even if we don’t speak every day, I need to know he’s there.

I don’t know why I met him. I don’t know why we connected. I do believe it was meant to happen. I need him, and I think he needs me. We are friends. Some things aren’t meant to be understood, they just need to be accepted.

I am honestly relieved that he’s still here. My anxiety about him leaving gave me a very bloody, and disturbing dream. I really hate that.

I love my husband, he is my soul mate. But I love J too, in a very different way. There are some people who are meant to be a part of your life, even if they don’t fit the traditional roles. I don’t know how to explain what it is, it just is. It can be frustrating, and complicated, but I need him to be a part of my life.

I was thrown off balance when I thought he was gone. It did bother me. It gave me anxiety. I’ve had people I’ve loved go away, and I accepted it. I couldn’t accept that. We said some things that we were harsh, but we dealt with it.

I’ve known him for four years now. He was a guy on Twitter that I messaged because I was worried about him. I had no idea the impact he would have on my life. I certainly had no idea it was even possible to love him. But, I do love him. And I hope he stays my friend.



I’m alone on a Saturday night, and getting drunk on rum. I hate the taste, so I have to hold my nose to drink it. I’m depressed, and just want to cry. I miss my friend. We’ve had fights before, and gotten mad, but we made up. I don’t know if that will happen this time.

My anxiety is so bad, that I had a really bloody nightmare. I can’t imagine life without him. I suppose I have to get used to the idea. Nobody ever stays, I should be used to that by now. People make promises that they don’t keep.

I don’t want to be alone right, but I don’t have a choice. I suppose I’ll just go to sleep.



David ❤️️

I was crying when my husband came home from work. His first instinct was to hold me, and comfort me. When I told him the reason I was crying was because I thought I lost J as my best friend, he just held me even tighter, and comforted me. 

My husband hates J. He’s hated him for three years since I told him about my feelings for J. He’s dealt with it because he loves me. He would be happy if I never spoke to J again. But he knew I was hurting, and just loved me. 

My husband is a good man. He deserves a better wife than me. But he still loves me, and wants me to be happy. I don’t deserve him, but I’ve been blessed to have him for 24 years. 

Let it sink in…my husband comforted me because I could be losing the other man I’ve loved. He’s a much braver soul than I am. I don’t know how he has put up with me, I’m just so glad he has. 



One of my worst faults is holding grudges. I don’t let things go. Things might look alright on the surface, but it becomes a festering wound. 

I blew up last night, over something that happened in 2013. I may have lost my best friend over it. I’m not going to apologize because my facts are correct. Is being right worth losing him? I don’t honestly know. 

I know I feel a sense of loss, and panic, today. I can’t imagine life without him. But life will go on. 

I don’t know what will happen. But whatever does, I’ll deal with it. 


Online relationships

I spend most of my free time online, on various social media outlets. I’ve met, and talked to so many different people. Some of them last for a single conversation, some of them became friends, and have been around for years. I’ve fallen in love with a few of those people too.

I have a bad habit of getting attached to people. A few of them interest me, and I’d like to know how their lives are going, but they just fade away with time. I have loved some of them.

I’ve been a willing participant in games with some of them. I’m fine with that as long as I know it’s a game. I don’t enjoy being played with in order to satisfy their twisted pleasure.

I have written about falling in love with J. Going on four years later, I still love him. That love has changed so many times, but the love remains. He will always remain an important part of my life. I am glad that he is happy with his soulmate, but that doesn’t change my love for him.

I also fell in love with T. I haven’t had contact with her in several months, so I am trying to let go of the feelings I have. She will always remain in my heart, and I’m grateful that I met her. I’m grateful that I know that I am capable of loving a woman in a romantic sense. She’s an amazing woman, and I am blessed that I got to know her for the time that I did.

I’ve come across some people who could be classified as sociopaths. Charming on the surface, but completely rotten at the core. I’m glad my instincts told me to keep a distance, and not believe the lies.

I’ve had unexpected people reach out to me when I needed the help. Actually, one the people I would call a sociopath, helped me out of one of the darkest points of my life. Everyone has both good & bad in them.

I’m not going to lie, I’ve done more than my share of flirting online. It’s led to other (non physical) things. I have gotten a thrill from doing it. I know that I’m married, and I shouldn’t have engaged in that type of behavior, but I have done it.

I’ve have gotten unexpected gifts from people I met online. A bottle of rum at Christmas from a joke I made on Twitter, than someone should send me a bottle as a present. That surprised me. Even more surprising was when that person blocked me a few months when I came out as bisexual.

Ah, my sexuality… I didn’t know that I was bisexual until a few years ago. People online contributed to me discovering that about myself. One man helped me become more sexual. I fell for another man (J) and he helped me accept another part of sexual desires. Then came a woman who attracted me. She made me realize that I did want a woman in a sexual way. Then I fell in love with a woman. So many different steps from different people, but they were all part of my puzzle.

People come, and go online. I’ve had to learn to let go of the ones who don’t want to stay. I’ve learned to cherish the others who stick around, and make my life more interesting. I find it interesting how some people pop up unexpectedly, just to remind me of how important they were to me at one time.

I have learned to trust my instincts. When I get bad vibes from people, I let them go. I can’t explain it, but I just don’t want them in my life in way. I’m not sure why, because I don’t have a bias against trans people, but a few of them talked to me, and I got a feeling that they were false.

I think one of the most surprising things to me, is how often I’ve gotten hit on. Especially from men much younger than I am. I am 49, I’m fat and I’m married. I sort of assumed that would deter most people. Not at all. Some guys want older women. Some guys are like big women. And some guys like the challenge of a married woman and/or, they assume a married woman is an easy target. Or they think a married woman wouldn’t get clingy, and would keep her mouth shut.

Over the years, I’ve helped people. People have helped me. I’ve sent things to people without expecting things in return. I’ve had things sent to me.

I’ve met so many interesting people online. They have helped me grow as a person. They have helped me laugh, and survive some of the worst times of my life. Some people have come into my life via the internet. They have made it better, and have stuck around. Others have come into my life, shattered my preconceived notions, then vanished. I have to say, it’s been an interesting ride.




For the first time in many months, our bills are caught up, our pantry is stocked, and I have hope again. 2016 was not a good year. I got fired, bills piled up, I lost 45 pounds because I was barely eating (ok, maybe that part wasn’t bad) and I thought about suicide, way too many times.

I’ve been working since right before Christmas. Things still aren’t wonderful, but they’re better. Going back to work was difficult. I had back spasms, and it hurt to even move sometimes. Working all night, and sleeping during the day was an adjustment. And trying to learn how to fill, and finish doughnuts is not as easy as you would think it is.

But, we have money coming in to pay the bills. I’m not worrying about if we will have electricity, heat or food. I even got my cell phone working again.

Times were rough. A friend helped us with a loan. $250 might not seem like alot of money to some people, but it meant a great deal to us. I will be forever grateful to him for that.

Life has its ups and downs. For a while, it seemed like everything was down. But things are looking up again. Is it weird to say that my Miami Dolphins making the playoffs actually gave me a reason to hang on, and not kill myself?

Although I thought of suicide, I’m not actually suicidal. I couldn’t do harm to myself. It just seemed like I was stuck in a pit of darkness, and I couldn’t see a way out. I found a way. Life isn’t perfect, but it’s better than the alternative.

Hope is such a big thing. It makes positive things possible. Having faith to hold on in the face of darkness means everything. If you can, do whatever you can to bring hope. You could literally save a person with your kindness.

fiction, short story

A Beautiful Goodbye (fiction)

It was a hot, summer evening on the boardwalk. The seagulls were circling, hoping to find, or steal, some treats from the beach goers. The waves crashed on the shore.

The boardwalk was crowded. Ron was bored. He had come with his friend with benefits, Diane. They usually didn’t go out together in public. Diane was married. Her husband knew about him, but he asked that she would be discreet. But, today, Diane wanted to be by the ocean. He was in the coast guard, so he was always near the water.

He was 30, tall, and had been told he was good looking, in a quirky sort of way. Diane was 50, short and chubby. She wasn’t the sort of woman he was usually attracted to, at all. But he met her online. He was drawn to her personality. He was attracted to her sexuality. She loved sex, she loved talking about sex. She was honest, and straight forward.

Diane had wandered away from him when she spotted a beagle. If she had one thing that captured her attention, it was a dog. A beagle was her kryptonite. He spotted her squatting down, petting the dog. She had a big smile on her face. That smile made her beautiful. Her green eyes lit up. Her long hair moved in the sea breeze. She raised her hand to brush it back, and at that moment, the beagle put his paws on her shoulder, and threw her off balance.

She landed with a thump on her butt. She looked stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing. The dog owner helped her up. His hand hand rested on her waist. Ron quit observing. He hurried to Diane’s side. He stepped between her, and the man. He made it clear that she was with him.

The dog owner looked regretful, he apologized and walked away. Diane watched for a moment, then looked at Ron with a puzzled look. He was acting possessive, he had never done that before.

Ron’s blue eyes met her green eyes. He had an intense expression on his face. He looked rather shocked. Somehow, in the last few minutes, he discovered that he was in love with Diane. He loved this woman who belonged to someone else. He had always been ok with her being married. He was fine with the sex only arrangement. He enjoyed her company. He enjoyed pleasuring her, and making her orgasm. He enjoyed her pleasing him.

“Ron, are you ok? You look kind of weird.” Diane asked again. He was still silent. How did he tell her that he loved her? What good would it do? She would never leave her husband.

He stepped toward her, he wound his hand in her hair, and pulled her towards him. He leaned down, and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and gave herself up to the kiss. The kiss was passionate. They both lost track of the fact that they were in public. They didn’t notice the curious looks, or the people wondering what was going on with such a mismatched couple.

Someone walked by, and said, “Get a room!” They broke the kiss, but stayed touching. Her hand came up, and caressed his face. He looked down at her. He noticed the wrinkles, the laugh lines around her eyes. He noticed the green eyes looking at him on wonder. He took a breath, then said the scariest thing ever in his life. “Diane, I love you.”

He watched as her eyes widened in shock. Then a slow smile lit up her face again. “Ron, I love you. But, you know I can’t…” He kissed her again. He didn’t want her to finish the sentence. He had just changed the rules of engagement. Things would never be the same again.

She broke the kiss. And turned around. He wrapped his arms around her. They stood there in silence, watching the waves rolling in. The sun on their backs. People walking around them. He rested his chin on her hair. His arm was resting on her breast. He felt water hit it. He looked up, expecting to see a rain cloud, but the sky was clear. He realized it was tears.

He turned her around to face him. There was tears in her eyes, and sliding down her cheeks. He cupped her face, and used his thumbs to wipe the tears away. She sobbed, wrapped her arms around his waist again, and rested her cheek on his chest.

He could feel his heart breaking. She was going to leave him. She had told him from the beginning to not fall in love with her. He had laughed it off then. He could not have imagined falling for a woman old enough to be his mother. She had been serious though. Their arrangement had only been for sex, and companionship. She loved her husband, but he couldn’t keep up with her anymore, and let her get her pleasure elsewhere. His only stipulation was that she could not get attached.

He had no idea how long they stayed there like that, arms around each other. The sun was sinking lower. The shadows getting longer. Diane stopped crying, just holding him tight. The day she had been dreading had finally arrived. She had to say goodbye.

She stepped back, reached up, and caressed his face one last time. She stood on her tip toes, and kissed his lips. “I love you, Ron. I always will, but I have to go.” She turned, and walked away from him.

He watched her walk away. He wanted to beg her to stay, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t say a word. He had always known there was no future in their relationship, all they had was the present. And, now, that was in the past. He didn’t even notice the tear that ran down his cheek as he watched her turn the corner, and disappear from his life.


Let’s talk about sex

Let’s talk about sex. Yeah, right. Sex used to be one of my favorite topics. I’ve been sexually active since 1990. I’ve had 8 partners if you count blow jobs (college boyfriend) and the lesbian I fingered, and made squirt.

I was 23 when I lost my virginity. Why do they call it losing your virginity? I didn’t lose it, I know where it went. Except, do you consider penetration, or actual intercourse to be “losing it”? Or is giving oral sex to a man “losing it”? My answer to when I lost it would vary on the definition of being deflowered.

The term deflowered just made me laugh. In elementary school, I knew a girl with a Filipino grandmother, and her term for vagina was a flower. So maybe that makes sense.

I chose to wait to have sex. I could have had it as young as 8. I had grown men hitting on me at 11. I was very religious when I was young. I wanted to wait until I was married, even though I never expected to get married. I think the that because I was bisexual, and didn’t know/accept it, also played a part in waiting. I finally decided to do it at 23 because I was being stalked, and had a real fear of being raped.

I gave my first blow job in college. I consider oral to be a sexual act, but not sex. So I still considered myself to be a virgin. I still consider myself to a virgin when it comes to female sex. I did make a woman cum by playing with her, but I wasn’t touched. Again, it was a sexual act, but not sex to me.

Anyway, I’ve been married for 23 years now. We’ve had lots of sex over the years. Maybe it is considered “vanilla” sex, but it’s intercourse. I have talked to so many people over the years about sex. It’s interesting to me the difference in attitudes between older, and younger people. The younger generations were exposed to porn on the internet. They seem to think that every woman should be bare, and that things like “eating ass” (formerly known as rim jobs) are normal and expected. The older men seem to love when a woman has a bush. Maybe because their porn came from magazines when women didn’t shave.

The internet has made it easier talking about sex. I’ve learned things I never wanted to know. I’ve learned about porn. I’ve learned that my body can do things I never would have imagined. I didn’t know that squirting was a real thing until 2013. I was very surprised to discover that I could do it. I was even more shocked when I made another woman do it. It is like physical proof of a job well done.

I’ve talked to a few women about sex. They seem to prefer a woman to be bare for obvious reasons. I’ve sexted a few women. I find it kind of amusing that I could make a woman orgasm talking about something I’ve never experienced in real life. But, I have a good imagination.

So, I talk about sex. Yes, that’s led to sexting or phone sex. That’s nothing something to be proud of, but it’s happened. Maybe it’s weird, but I like knowing that I made someone lose control.

Yes, I talk about sex. And, no, that doesn’t mean that I want to get sexual with the person I’m talking to. There is a difference between a conversation, and sexting. But some people can’t see that distinction.

Sometimes I just tell a story. Like, imagine you’re here, and this happens… I am just the narrator. I’m not emotionally invested in the outcome. But they get off on it.

It’s strange, but when I hit 46, my sexuality went into overdrive. I had some pretty bad behavior, but only online and on the phone. I have only had sex with my husband in 24 years. Three and a half years later, thing have settled down. I don’t have the compulsion/addiction I had then. And that’s a relief.

I still talk about sex. Apps like Whisper make it so easy. I don’t even have to post anything sexual, they just show up. Sometimes I do post something suggestive because I’m bored, and want a conversation. I do find it kind of annoying that I mention my husband, and still have someone hitting on me.

I talk about sex. I’m a boring person, but that is one subject people like to talk about. Yes, I have gotten people off. And I’ve gotten myself off too. It is what it is. But I know one thing, some people are more interesting than others when it comes to those conversations. Some people have a way with words, others just don’t. Sometimes I think about the people, and wonder how many I’ve gotten turned on, and gotten off. No, it isn’t proper behavior, but who said we have to play by the rules?


A closed door on an open marriage

I debated writing about this topic, because it paints me in a bad light. A few days ago, I asked my husband to consider having an open marriage. He has already agreed to let me be involved with a female if I could find one. But this time, I was asking his permission to allow me to be with another man. Not to screw anyone with a penis, just one specific man.

This specific man approached me on the Whisper app. Apparently he liked my frankness in talking about sexual things. He was always upfront with what he wanted, and that was me. I told him from the beginning that he was wasting his time, that I couldn’t cheat. He said I was a challenge.

For months he has flirted with me. In spite of me telling him that I was a waste of time, I did respond. I haven’t sexted him. I haven’t had phone sex with him. But I’m very attracted to him. He is intelligent, he’s funny, and he has a good body. He’s attractive in a quirky way, and he’s also military. He’s kind of my kryptonite.

He is also 19 years younger than I am. Once upon a time, I freaked out because I fell in love with a guy 18 years younger. I am not in love with this guy. I don’t want a relationship with him. I just want him as a friend with benefits. And he would be happy with that arrangement.

My husband said no. He was extremely hurt, and upset that I even asked. I made him feel like he wasn’t good enough. I knew that asking would hurt him. But frankly, I knew that if I went behind his back, and he found out, he would be destroyed. I respect him too much to cause that much pain.

I love my husband, he’s a very good man. But he is also 10 years older than I am. Time has taken a toll on both of us, but especially on him. He has limits now. After almost 24 years together, things have changed. I can’t get the things I crave.

I am aware that I am selfish. I am aware this makes me a bad wife. I have put him through so much in the past three years. I really debated asking. I debated just going ahead and doing it, and hope that he wouldn’t find out.

I’m not trying to hurt him, I just want to experience some things that I can’t get from him. I want to do it before I’m too old to enjoy them. But I meant those vows I took 23 years ago. I can’t do it without him giving me permission.

He doesn’t own me. It’s my body. But we have a marriage. What one of us does, effects the other. He has been the best husband he knows how to be. He does not deserve to be disrespected.

I took a chance. I risked doing even more harm to my marriage than I have already done. I asked him for permission. He said no.

I’m disappointed. I’m not going to lie, I wanted to have the experiences with a younger man. But, I can’t.

To be honest, I’m not sure I could actually do anything with someone new. I could freak out, and run. This guy could have just been playing me. He always said he wanted to “break” me. I asked him once why he pursued me, he knew from the beginning that I’m married. He said maybe because his ex wife cheated on him, and that was his way of getting revenge.

It doesn’t matter what his motivations are, I can’t indulge. I will always wonder what it would have been like. I know what my motivations were. I wanted new experiences with someone different. I also know it’s because it feels like I have a hole in my soul that needs to be filled.

I asked, and I got told no. Life will go on. I did damage to my marriage, again. I hurt my husband, again. I was selfish to ask. But there was an extremely small chance that I could have gotten a yes. They say that what you will regret most, is the chances that you didn’t take. I took a chance. It didn’t work out as I had hoped it would, but that’s life.



Glimmers of hope

This year has not been a good one. So many bad things have happened. I came close to cheating, but I didn’t. I got fired from my job. I had a severe case of depression. Things looks very bleak.

There has been a few glimmers of hope. A friend from Twitter loaned me some money to get us through a bad patch. Another friend sent me a card when some money. Both those of acts helped lift the depression some.

I was talking to a friend last week. I joked that I wanted some chocolate, and told him to order me some from Amazon. He actually did it! I got a box with two bags of fun sized Baby Ruths in the mail yesterday. That was a wonderful thing. I wanted the chocolate, and it was nice to get a gift.

My mom paid for me to get a battery for my van. So no more being trapped at home. And no more excuses to not go job hunting.

Also, I met a woman on the Moovz app. She’s close to my age, and lives about 90 miles away. It’s not close, but close enough to possibly meet. I like her. We have similar personalities. I wasn’t sure how to interact with her, so I asked her if she just wanted a friend, or if she was ok with me flirting with her. She said flirting was fine. Wow.

She told me that she was deleting the Moovz app, and that I was the only good thing that came from that app. She made sure she had a way to talk to me before she deleted it. That made me happy.

She said she would like to meet sometime. I said that I would love that. She was kind of surprised. I don’t know why she would be, I really do like her.

She is so easy to talk to, but I’m kind of awkward. I really don’t know how to flirt with a woman. This is foreign territory for me.

I don’t know if anything will come of this. But if nothing else, I have another friend. I’ve been hoping to find a decent female friend for a while. Life is so unexpected. She approached me, she made sure she had a way to talk to me. That makes me smile. Things seem to be looking up, and I am so grateful for that.




Absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder. Absence makes you angry. Absence makes you wonder why you aren’t good enough for a simple hello. Absence makes you forget.

There is a point that you reach when you just give up. You no longer expend the energy it takes to maintain the feelings you had. You let go. And you have to let go in order to hang on to your sanity.

It’s time to let go. That place in my heart will always belong to that person, but it’s time to let the scab grow. I need to let the scar form. I need to move on.

For years, I was content with just being a friend. I could accept that things would never go beyond that. But I don’t feel that I’ve been treated like a friend.

I don’t know what’s going on, because I haven’t had contact in months. I don’t know if they’re dead or alive. How could I know?

So, they’re alive in my heart, but my head tells me to let go. I think it’s finally time to listen to my head instead of my heart. Absence will eventually let me forget. Maybe. I doubt it.


The summer of ’92

I met him at a Denny’s in Miami. I had gone in to put in an application, and ended up getting asked out. He was about 5’10”, I think. He had brown eyes, brown hair and brown skin. He was originally from Nicaragua.

He was a nice guy. On our first date, I picked him up, and we went to TGI Fridays. I had fajitas. I don’t remember the conversation very well, except him telling me about working on a cruise ship. After dinner, I drove to a beach, I don’t remember which one. I remember seeing the skyline of Miami as we sat, and talked.

I do remember I was wearing a denim skirt. And that we had sex on that beach. He sat in the passenger seat with his feet on the ground. I held onto the door.

Yes, I had sex on the first date. I had waited until I was 23 to have sex the first time. That event wasn’t an emotional event. I didn’t confuse sex with love. But at 25 years old, I had sex with a man I had only met once before, and in a public place.

I didn’t feel guilty about it. I enjoyed it. It was a bit of a thrill to risk doing that in such a public place. It was very risky, and not something a shy person like me would typically do.

We hung out a few times. One night we went to the bar where my brother worked, Beltran got kind of drunk. When we left, he gave me directions of where to go.

To my surprise, it was a by-the-hour, no-tell motel. He had taken me to a place mainly used for people having affairs. The room had a hot tub, there was a mirror over the bed, and the bed only had sheets, no blanket. Twenty four years later, those are the things I remember.

We went in the hot tub, naked. Then we had sex on that bed with the mirror over it. I remember listening to Jon Secada’s Spanish version of Just Another Day Without You.

I gave him oral sex, and he passed out. I couldn’t wake him up. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t call home to let my parents know where I was. (I was 25) I was cold, so I put my clothes on, and went to my car. For some reason, I had a blanket in there.

So, I got the blanket, and fell asleep. In the morning, he finally woke up. He wasn’t happy to realize he had slept so long. (I guess those hours added up to a bigger bill)  I took him home, and dropped him off. I didn’t know that was the last time that I would see him.

A few weeks later, Hurricane Andrew hit. It devastated my neighborhood, and his too. I didn’t have access to a phone to call, and see if he was ok. To be honest, I really didn’t think about him. I didn’t go see if he was ok either.

Beltran was an experience. He picked me up, we “dated”. I had sex with him two times. I don’t regret the experience, he was a nice guy. Nice looking, and hot as well. Because of him, I got to experience things I hadn’t before, or would ever do again. It was a fun summer fling. I sometimes wonder why he asked me out. Was he trying to use me to get his green card? Or did he just like a very shy, plus sized woman? I’ll never know. I tried looking up the name, and there are way too many men with his name.

I was never in love with him. I enjoyed his company. I enjoyed the sex. In one of the worst years of my life, he was a fun interlude. He was my one, and only, summer fling. We made some memories. He probably never thinks about me, but I think about him once in a while. For a short time, I got to have a wild side. I’m grateful to him for that.



Up until three years ago, I had no idea that women squirted. I didn’t even know it was possible. Didn’t know it existed. Then when I heard about it from a female, I still didn’t believe it. Then I had conversations with a male friend. He told me all about the squirting videos on porn sites. So I had to check it out. I was amazed.

I did some reading about it. It seems the fluid comes from the bladder, and comes out through the clit. But it is not really urine. Some women do it, but most of them don’t. It seems that squirting is a major turn on for some people. They think of it as proof that they did a good job, and got the woman to reach orgasm.

Maybe two years ago, I discovered I was able to do it. It’s not something that can be forced, it just happens when orgasm is reached. It doesn’t happen frequently, but it happens. And to varying degrees. It can happen from intercourse, or masturbation.

Well, you know how I said that it feels like proof of a job well done? It really does feel that way. I’ve had exactly one physical experience with a woman. I dated a lesbian a few times last year. One night we ended up at the beach. We sat in my van, talking. I was getting turned on. Apparently, so was she.

I was shocked when she leaned back her seat, and pulled up her shirt and bra. She said she knew that I wanted experience, and to go ahead and have fun. I hesitated for a moment, but then I did have fun. She got really turned on, and pulled off her shorts.

When I touched her, she was wet. I really didn’t know what to do, but I did what I thought would feel good. I must have done something right, she squirted like a hose. She soaked the front seat, and got it on the dashboard. My first time touching a woman, and I made her orgasm like that. Yeah, I was proud.

It is a turn on to know you succeeded in making a woman lose control like that. I’m not sure why it happens, or why it only happens to a small amount of women. I know it’s fun to have it happen, or to cause it. It’s one of the more fun mysteries of life.


A tale of two lesbians, and a bi chick

Before you go getting all excited, this isn’t a story about sex. It’s the story of coincidence, and fate. In 2012, I signed up to get Twitter, for the sole purpose of being able to use it to respond to some site about the Miami Dolphins. I had no idea the effect that would have on my life.

So, on Twitter, I discovered a world wide base of Miami Dolphins fans. I followed most of the ones I came across. It was, and is, a variety of people. Some I talked to occasionally, some I interacted with often. Some I came to consider friends.

Fast forward a year, I fell in love with a male Miami Dolphins fan. It started out as just 2 people who spent many hours talking. That was a significant event, but not the basis of this post. I loved him, I’m married, he found his soul mate…blah, blah, blah.

I only mentioned that part, because I needed him to finally accept the fact that I am bisexual. It took me 46 years to figure out, and accept it. So, a few months later, I came out on Twitter, and on Facebook, and in this blog. I talked about it online.

So…one side effect of me coming out as bi, and talking about it led to one of my other Miami Dolphins followers messaging me. I had made a comment that I always assume accounts with no personal name, or avatar was a white male. She was angry. She informed me that she all woman, and sent pictures to prove it.

She approached me, and we talked. I thought I was imagining the fact that she was flirting with me, but she really was. We didn’t talk every day, or even every week. But the conversations were intense, and sometimes sexual. Fast forward another year. I loved my husband of 21 years, and I loved a man I only knew from online. Well, surprise, surprise…I had fallen for her too.

We spoke online, and sometimes on the phone. It quit being sexual at all. But the feelings on my side were firmly in place. I respected that she was married, and behaved myself.

So, I met T on Twitter. I think she’s amazing woman. She’s strong, but my instinct would be to protect her. She’s one of the few people I know who would have my back if I needed it. I got to know her from our conversations.

Well, I got on the Moovz app (it’s for LGBT people) last year. I met S on there. S is a lesbian. I got to talking to her when she messaged me. Funny thing here… In my blog, I had written about T, and my feelings for her. S read those stories. After talking to S for a while, I wrote about her, and T read that.

T & S read my blog, and were curious about the other. They asked me questions about the other one. Both of them have very similar personalities, and likes & dislikes. They are both in somewhat similar jobs. They had much more in common with each other, than either of them did with me.

Well, they had one major thing in common, they are both in the military reserves. They had actually been sent to some of the same places, but at different times. Until they were both sent to a disaster zone at the same time. They both knew of each other through me, but they didn’t know each other. Well, S knew who T was, but didn’t tell her how.

They came back home, and went about their lives. Until the next time they were called up. This time they knew the other. Other things happened, but that isn’t my story to tell.

They have been sent to the same places a few times now. The last time I talked to S, she told me about T. The last time I talked to T, she mentioned that S would bring me up in conversation. So, in some other country, two women who met me in different places online, were working together, and I was their topic of conversation.

I was honestly jealous of S, because she got to spend time with T. I’ve never met either of them in person. Was it coincidence, or fate that I met both of them? Did my blogging about either of them effect their meeting?

Life is so strange. I met two women with similar personalities, in two different places online. Their lives have been interconnected in real life. I was a part of their world, but not for real. I know T cares about, and she knows my feelings for her. I know S likes me, at least as a friend. I know S has feelings for T, because she told me. (And I wanted to punch her, and tell her to back off) It’s so bizarre.

I haven’t spoken to either of them recently. I don’t know if they are ok, or not. I pray that they are. I don’t know if they’re working together, or not. I do know that I miss talking to both of them. I’m not sure why, but I clicked with both of them as friends. I met these two incredible women online, I consider them both to be friends.

This is one of those things that makes me wonder about fate/destiny/karma. What are the odds of me meeting two women online who ended up working with each other? Millions of people online, and the three of us connected. I think about them often, and I hope they are alright. I fell in love with T, and love S as a friend.

I know I’ve written about them/this situation before, but it was on my mind tonight. I’ve been watching Person Of Interest lately, and it makes me wonder about coincidences, and fate. It makes me wonder about me, too. How many times have I been a catalyst in other people’s lives?

It’s almost 6am, and I am tired. My life is a disaster lately. I’m covered in poison ivy, and I can’t sleep because of the itching. I’m awake in the darkness and quiet, and I’m thinking about them. They have both touched my life, and forever changed it. I just wonder if they think of me.




Going ghost 

I’m not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse, but I love too easily. I get attached to people I talk to online. And it hurts when they just disappear without a goodbye. 

Is it so hard to just say goodbye? Do you have to leave me hanging, and wondering if you’re ok? Just tell me you’ve moved on. I promise I won’t get clingy, and beg you to stay. 

I guess my feelings don’t matter at all. People don’t always realize their importance to another person. Maybe they don’t care that  they promised to say goodbye, and didn’t do it. 

It matters to me, and it does hurt to be abandoned. You ghosted me, and I’ll never know if it was because you just don’t care, or if you had to do it. I will always wonder. 


Let me go

I’ve had a hard time with depression this year. I’m sure part of it has to do with the fact that my heart is pulled in too many directions at one time. It’s tiring. I should I only care about my husband, but he isn’t the only one.

I’m aware that hurts him, and that pains me. I have tried to let go of the feelings I hold for others. But it seems like every time I think I’m done with those feelings, I get pulled back  in again. I woke up one morning, and decided that I was going to let go of my feelings for T. Just a few hours later, she messaged me to call her. So, of course, I did. We talked for hours. And of course, my feelings for her were still firmly intact.

My feelings for J have shifted. I will always love him as a friend, but I’m not in love with him anymore. I know I’ve said that before, because I thought it was true. But it’s for real now. I probably could have stayed in love with him forever, but his actions made sure that didn’t happen. And I’m honestly glad I don’t feel the same way. I did ask him one night to let me go, he said, No.

I know that they both care about me, I don’t doubt that. But I need to not care so much about them. Years ago, I didn’t realize that you can love more than one person. Three years and three months ago, I found out that it is possible. It’s painful loving someone you can’t be with. And loving two of them that way? Exhausting.

I’ve been asked why I just don’t block them from my life. I literally can’t do it. I need to know that they’re safe, and happy. I have to have contact with them.

I have so many mixed feelings. It is kind of awesome to love, and be loved by these people. It is also a special kind of torture. When you love someone, you want to be with them. I can’t do that. They are both with the people who are their soul mates. I am with my soul mate. Out of all the people I’ve talked to over the years, why did I connect with him & her so strongly? What drew me to them?

I don’t get to talk to T very often, circumstances don’t allow it. I cherish the times I do get to talk to her. I  talk to, and argue with J on a regular basis. We fight. We usually apologize, and go about our regular lives. I kind of figured he would have given up, and moved on already. Be he still hangs in there too.

I don’t know why this happened to me. David doesn’t understand how I can love more than one person. I told him that maybe he loves me so well, I have more love to give. Is it such a horrible thing to love so much? I wish I could let go. Maybe I’m holding on to them when I should let go. Maybe I’m hoping they make that final move, because I can’t do it.


Dark days, and hope

2016 has been a bad year for me. I have suffered from depression for most of it. I have had depression in my life, but I’ve never had such a long period of it before. I felt like I was in a downward spiral, and I’d never see the surface again. I thought about suicide many times. About how easy it would be to take those pills, go to sleep, and never wake up again.

I felt lost. I felt worthless. I felt like I was just taking up space, and had no reason to exist. I wished that I didn’t exist. I was afraid of my own thoughts.

I got fired in April. The depression had me in such a firm grip, I couldn’t even gather myself together enough to put in applications. And when I did so some, I got the thanks/but no thanks emails. That sent me even deeper into that dark place.

Friends tried to help. They told me I was a good person, and that I was loved and needed. Nothing seemed to help me.

I haven’t been a part of a church in ages, and I didn’t have much faith to hold on to. Being bisexual, I’ve been told I have the devil in me, and I’m going to hell. So, I figured if that’s true, I might as well go big.

My van died. So now I have no job, and no vehicle to look for one. And no outlet to get out of the house. Then comes the feeling of being trapped, and even more depression. It just felt like a boulder was sitting on my chest.

Our bills are getting behind. I was worried about our power being shut off. I was reaching a breaking point. A few night ago, on Twitter, I asked if anyone could loan me $500, and I’d pay them back $600 in May. I really didn’t think anyone would respond.

But yesterday, I woke up, and I had a message from a Twitter friend. He said he would loan us $200 (actually ended up at $250). I told him I really appreciated that, but I thought things were tight for him too. He said he could do it. I asked why, and he said because he appreciated me, and my tweets.

The loan was pretty amazing on its own, but his words meant so much to me. He had me laughing, and crying at the same time. He said he was doing it because he had been helped before. The Pay It Forward philosophy in action. I do believe God works through people.

The loan is a blessing. It means we keep going for another month. But there was even more good news. He sent the money through Paypal. I checked my account to see if it was there. It was, but my balance was actually at $510. I was shocked. I have no idea where that money came from, but it is desperately needed. Miracles do happen.

Between the money, and his kind words, things don’t seem so bad now. And because I have to make sure that he gets his money back, I have to make sure that I stick around. His act of kindness probably saved my life.

I honestly have no clue why I exist. I try to do good things. I know by me talking to one person, I prevented her from committing suicide. I’m having a bad year, things have really dragged me down. But once where I only saw darkness, I see a light again. There is hope for better things. I’ve been through bad times before, but I am a survivor. People actually do need me, and love me.

It’s been a dark time. So many things were getting me down. It all just felt hopeless. I had a man nearby offer me money for sex. I was such a low point, I considered it. That is how low I sunk. My friend offered me hope instead.

Another Twitter friend said she would send something to help out. And she didn’t want to be repaid. I was overwhelmed. There are good people out there. Amazing, kind people. And I am blessed to know them.

I still don’t have a job, or a vehicle, but I have hope again. I have a reason to stick around. (If you are wondering why I didn’t see my husband as a reason to stay, I feel like he could find someone better than me)

People have reached out to help, and that is an incredible thing. Many times in my past, I helped people just because they needed it. Once, I brought a young German couple home from work with me. They stayed overnight, showered and I washed their clothes for them. In the morning, I drove them to the Greyhound station. It was risky, but it just seemed like the right thing to do.

The depression has been bad, and it was almost deadly. The kindness of some friends has helped lighten that. There is some reason God still wants me around. Maybe I’m just needed to be my smart ass, opinionated self. To be the person who is concerned, and loves so much.

My all time favorite movie is It’s A Wonderful Life. I’ve always identified with George Bailey. He wanted to commit suicide because he thought he was worth more dead than alive. His friends, and all the people he helped, convinced him that he wasn’t rich in money, but he was certainly loved and appreciated.

I met the friend who is loaning me the money one time. We talked before the game at MetLife Stadium. He’s a fellow Dolphins fan. I liked him, and enjoyed talking to him. I didn’t realize how he would help me out one day.

I reached out from an abyss, and a friend grabbed my hand. He gave me a reason to hold on. I just need to pull myself together. I have things that need to get done, and I can’t let the depression control me any longer.

I have a great husband. I have friends, even if I only talk to them online. I am very well loved. It’s been rough, but I will make it through. I just have to take it one day at a time.

Remember, George: no man is a failure who has friends.
~ Clarence Oddbody, It’s a Wonderful Life (1946).


So blessed and thankful

This has been a bad year for year for me. I got fired in April (one month after getting a raise), and I’ve had depression so bad, that I can barely function. Our bills are getting behind.

Last night on Twitter, I asked if anyone could loan us $500. I didn’t really expect to any kind of answer from anyone. Today when I woke up, I got a message from a fellow Dolphins fan that he would loan me $200.

I was surprised, because I had the impression things were tight for his family too. But he said he could swing it. He actually sent half of what I asked for on Twitter. I was amazed at his generosity.

The loan is a major thing, but his words meant more to me than the money. I have been suicidal recently. It just seemed like there was no point in me even existing. He made me realize that maybe there is a reason I am here, and that me being on Twitter could be a good thing. And now I have to make sure I pay him back, so I have to stick around.

I try to be a good person, and help when I can. I can’t give much in the way of money or things, but I try to be there for people. I am blessed that I have been on the receiving end. Take care of each other, you never know when you might be entertaining angels.