. . .Not happy, but content. Yes, those were pretty much my exact words. I know, I know...not the best phrasing at all. Not by a long shot. It's a bad habit of mine that I'm slowly trying to remedy, but making little progress. . . Yes, that's where we left off. . . and that was the beginning of the middle of the story. Oy.
I uttered this dreadful phrase to her as we were at her sister's. She had been feeling kinda ill, but we attributited it to a bug that had been going around. No need to jump to conclusions. No need to worry. It's okay; she'll get over this soon. Nope. Didn't happen that way. She comes home one day, looking a little shakey, comes in and just hugs me, and I hold her. Then she pulls it out of her pocket. "Oh, wow." Yup, that was me speaking. Not, "Oh, crap," nor was it, "Oh boy!" but, "Oh, wow." Kind of just neutral. Like I said, it was just something that "is." I know that it only takes one time not being careful, not using a condomn, or pill or whatever. It's heard and told everywhere. And that is exactly what happened.
Imagine us one night, after foreplay, me poised between her legs, both of us more than ready for penetration. However, (if I remember right) we were out of protective rubber sheaths, or they were way across on the other side of the room. Either way, it makes little difference for the following. Prior to this night it had always been with a rubber with her, and I think it would be nice to feel her skin to skin. So I ask, "Do you want to chance it without one?" and I see her nod her head slightly and say okay or some other affirmative response. It felt good. Smooth, warm, and slick. All the things it's supposed to feel like. There's just more sensation and it's so nice.
We finish, or at least I do for sure, and I think she did. It's been a while and as with most minds of men, things like that get fuzzy with time. Like a day or two. You know most of us don't care about that too long after it happens. But, anyway. Directly after as we lay there spooning, me holding her in front of me, I feel her crying quietly. Yes, felt more than heard. "What's the matter?" I ask of her. She mentions something about periods and time intervals, and the relavance kind of dawns on me why she might be crying. I wonder why she didn't mention this before the copulating act, because I probably would have waited til we had protection, or crawled across the bed for one (depending on which memory is correct). Well, that was the end of the bedtime fun for a little while. Once suspicions were confirmed it was back on, and skin to skin everytime; what was the harm?
**Fast forward to mid-December, through the morning (and evening) sickness, crappy feelings, and various other thigs we'll return to later on**
I'm travel down through the states on my way back home - cold as hell in my van. I have no heater. It's a 73 VW bus. My feet are right behind the metal in the front of the bus. Directly behind the pile of snow on my bumper getting buffeted by 60 mph winds. You know those old country AC's? The ice-blocks and fans. Yeah. That's what my feet were behind in the middle of December coming back from NY. Crap. Cold. Ouch. One of the most miserable experiences I've ever experienced in that van. Heck, even not in the van, just ever.
So I'm back home in Texas, looking for work. I catch on with some friends and work up at Scarborough Ren Fair while living off of Unemplpyment Benefits. Not too bad, living in my van up there on the campgrounds. I'll tell you here and now there was sex a plenty there. More, if I had tried, but I just took what came my way. Granted it wasn't that long after breaking up with *Luci* but while this wasn't "empty sex" with someone I'd barely met, it wasn't deep lovemaking with an intimate friend. During this, I'm fairly honest with *Luci* about what's happening. I try to protect her from getting hurt too badly while still try to be honest. I give her guarded facts. We have some rough conversations. We have a few good ones.
Through the months, things have gone uphill and downhill; there are good times and bad on the phone and internet. Mostly she tells me that she feels like she was just another "piece" to me. She doesn't think that I care about her anymore. While I do not love her like I used to, I still do have love for her. I still care about her. Else I would just ignore the phone calls and emails. I would drop out of her life, knowing that I would hurt her by doing so. But I don't. As much as we keep saying stuff to make the other upset -- yes I take blame in stuff not getting better -- I still try. Even though, I don't stay in contact ro talk to her as often as she'd like, I try to make conversation more than a few words at a time.
She is a big phone person. While in NY and when I was in VA to watch *Little Bean* be born ((amazing , ablosutely the biggest, speechless "WOW" you can ever muster)) it seemes she was on the phone, nightly to her mother or her sister)) I however, am not. Give ma half an hour to tell my big stuff, and then it's down to chit chat, and I don't care to chit chat. Unless of course you can counter my stories with another, and we go back and forth for a while like that. One problem , though. . . since the break up and beyond, she doesn't know what to say to me. Therefore I have nothing to counter-converse to. Thus, creating (**insert dramatic music**) a DISCUSSION. We've had numerous of these Discussions. Most of them are worked out to amicable tones, but only after much explaining and debating.
Oh, well.
This isn't exactly a good stopping place, but alas, I must. I'm am running numerous with my words. More will come later. Do not fear. It is inevbitble. . . inebbitavl. . . inevvit. . aww screw it. Continuation is immenent. All things move on and end eventually. . .
Til then - keep on keepin' on.
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