Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck.
Ok, I admit it, I freaked out yesterday. I need to put my Big Girl Panties back on, get back up on that horse, rub some dirt in it, etc., etc., etc. Y’all know what I’m trying to say: I will keep on doing what I do.
I got a good night’s rest, thought about it, and realized I have to do me. And this blog — believe it or not — is me. Totally and completely. The good, the bad, the weak, the strong, the sexy, the insecure, the ribald, the ridiculous. It’s all Hy all the time.
Really committing to this means I will write about all of it without fear and without reservation. And you guys will, hopefully, be entertained and titillated, go home to your lovers and pound the sexual shit outta them, then keep coming back for more. More what I couldn’t begin to say, but I’m glad you’re all here.
And now for what you all really want to know. What’s happened next with The Neighbor?
I spent yesterday working, running errands, mothering (both child and dog babies), and slowly degrading into a highly irritable state. My baby human is having a difficult time with the baby canine and so there is much, much training going on under my roof. Training of the damn dog, training of the damn child, training, training, training (and don’t forget I’m training myself, as well).
I suffered through extreme crank and rose above by continuing work on a giant canvas along side my (eventually) subdued babies. The four-legged one stealing random objects to chew, the two-legged one with a paint-brush in hand on a smaller canvas. The wine flowed down my gullet, I kissed and tucked in my baby, and sat down to watch America’s Next Top Model: British Invasion (I should have listed in my 7 things that I love reality competition shows). Then, KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
I was dressed in my striped see-through tank and polka dot pajama shorts, my hair in a loopy knot on the top of my head. I smiled as I opened the door. The Neighbor was there.
“Hey. What’s going on?” I asked.
“I’m in a bad mood, so, I’m going to get drunk. Alone. But hopefully with you. Gotta go to the store first, though.”
My belly was already warm from my own little excursion down Vino Lane, so I said, “Sure, come on over when you’re back from the store.”
When he came back, I was busy mothering. My little one had woken up and needed some songs and love. I left TN to his own devices with the puppy. My attention rightly focused on my Poo for as long as it took to settle things back to dreamland. When I came out, his lap was filled with puppy and a giant bottle of vodka was on my counter. I mixed him a drink, poured myself some wine and we settled down to hang out.
We chatted and flirted; I told him I wasn’t going to fuck him. He tried to get me to sit next to him, but I politely declined and stayed in my own chair. His eyes widened in utter surprise. My little 24 hour journey to greater self-awareness bolstered my decision to hold back.
And when I wanted to make contact, I climbed onto his lap and dipped my mouth to his and tasted his lips and tongue. I pushed him down onto his back and loomed over him.
“So, tell me this, TN. Why didn’t you text me earlier in the night last night to let me know you weren’t coming over? I could have done something else; gone to bed, gone out.”
“You’re right, so very right. I felt really badly about that. I should have texted you at 10 o’clock at least. That’s part of why I came over later. I felt awful for standing you up. Please, accept my apology. That was rude of me and I shouldn’t have done it. I really am sorry.”
Well, knock me over with a feather, folks. “Yeah, I felt like that was a good apology-fuck.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, it was.”
“Well, thank you for saying all that. Apology accepted. Truly.” I smiled and grabbed his cock over his basketball shorts.
“I like how you accept an apology, Hy.”
“Well, I know you mean it. So, issue resolved, right?” I squeezed again.
He grabbed my breasts, “Yes, but so many don’t let it go and then men don’t know how to apologize, either.”
I thought about how right he was. I married my ex in large part because of his apology skills; no one had ever apologized to me in my life and I’d jumped on that raft as soon as it passed close to me. I wondered how many times TN had apologized to me so far. This was the third time.
First time was after a good cock-sucking and he wondered aloud to me why he couldn’t find a 23-year-old hot girl with a banging body who didn’t want a commitment and who loved to fuck. Um. Yeah. The second time was after telling me too much information about another lover he had which overlapped with me. Not fun to hear. And then last night.
We made out some more and I asked him what he was doing Friday night. He said, “You.”
Of course he’s doing me. I mean, why not? He’s secretly and madly in love with me after all. All my fretting and anxiety is silly! I should know all this! – queue crickets – Um…
The clock struck 12 then and he buggered off. I made myself a bite to eat, checked on my snoozing baby, and crawled under my covers. My last thought was how centered I felt. And then I thought about his cock in the center of me later Friday night. Good dreams for me, for sure.