Live fast/Die young/Bad girls do it well....

Currently dealing with, what I hope, is the last bit of fall-out from my New York sex-capades.

Found out from Terry that his ex-girlfriend is still giving him grief for not coming home last Thursday. Despite being broken up, she's still going ballistic over everything...including the fact that he spent the night with another girl. After a lengthy chat last night, I found out that she never approved of our friendship and him spending the night in my room only solidified her suspicions. He told me she saw my number on the cell phone bill and confronted him about it during their big fight yesterday. I've told him repeatedly that he needs to hurry up and move out...she's only going to get angrier and more unreasonable. (sigh) Oh well, not my problem! Glad I'm safely all the way over here.

The plan was to keep Jay at arm's length and not answer his texts. But in a moment of weakness, I responded to one of his heartfelt messages. Ughhhhh....I always fall into this trap. I don't want to give him false hope, but shit....I don't know how to be tough. I am way too sympathetic and I'm always willing to give in when someone is that nice to me. Yuck. I wish I could stop resisting. If I lived in New York or if he lived here, I probably wouldn't be single. 

That's what I need. I need someone like Jay. I need someone to stupidly adore me, no matter what. I want a man devoted to sexing me like a relentless fucking-machine. I want someone who will be helplessly devoted to me and only me. I want complete surrender. Is that too much to ask? Hmmm. Maybe.

Anyway, over a week now and no word from Chris. He's dead to me. That was easy. 

Honestly, I'm taking a break from boys. I've got a Vegas trip next month and an ex-boyfriend I will potentially have to deal with. I'm limiting myself to flirting and maybe random hook-ups. The search for Mr.Right should be postponed till after Sin City.

I need a detox. All this dick and I've got nothing to show for it. I need to lay low and regroup. My definition of what I want is ever-changing now. Just when I thought I had it all figured out.....

We had just one night but it lingers on & on & on..

Terry and I rehashing the details of our little tryst in New York via text. We've decided to not tell Jay that now all three of us are sexually linked. Somehow keeping it a secret makes it even hotter:

'Cause New York's not my home....

Well, I'm alive!

Back from an incredibly action-packed trip to the Big Apple.

New York was a total whirlwind and I enjoyed every second of it. Definitely needed the R&R partnered with plenty of good food and entertainment. It also felt amazing to get lost in a new city and welcome the anonymity. I realized just how much I needed to get out of LA and out of the constant search to find a life partner.

I had sex in New York City. TWICE.

I think I outlined my sinister plans briefly in some of the last entries. Besides the sight-seeing, I had planned to hook up with Terry and Jay, two of my old friends from Staten Island. I know Jay has gotten some mention in this blog, mostly because I gave him a blow job eight years ago and has never forgotten it. He's been on a quest to reclaim me once more and though I flirted back, I never really took him seriously. His best friend Terry, on the other hand, formed a very courteous friendship with me and for all intents and purposes, we were extremely platonic. He'd tease me about Jay and we'd all have a laugh. It wasn't until a few months ago that Terry began to confide in me about his deteriorating relationship with his girlfriend Melissa. He finally broke up with her, as I had mentioned a couple entries ago. We made mention of my visit and it came out that he wouldn't mind hooking up with me, too. So now I had two guys after me.

Nothing I can't handle, right? I recalled my old slut techniques and put my game face on. It would be very easy to make these boys Eskimo brothers.

The easy part is that I didn't have to do too much lying. Terry and I began to master a plan to see each other. He was aware Jay was anxious about my visit and he said he didn't care if I hooked up with Jay again. In fact, he insisted I did if nothing else, to boost his best friend's crumbling self-confidence. Terry and I chatted for several weeks about my trip, and he'd always remind me to make sure to make time to see Jay, with a little smirk on his face (well, the emoticon did at least haha!). I reluctantly agreed. My trip-mates offered up the living room in the suite and the race was on.

Thursday evening in New York City. After a breath-taking trip to the Statue of Liberty, I was ready to see Terry first. He met up with us near Battery Park and we had dinner. Terry's a nice guy but he's very quiet and reserved. He wasn't very talkative and you could tell he was a little nervous. It was painfully obvious he was there to meet me and have sex. A few rounds of whiskey at the local Irish tavern and I was ready to go. Back at the hotel, Terry waited for me in the living room, fiddling with his phone as I took a nice, long, hot shower. Once the New York City grime was off of me, I was ready to sex this incredibly taciturn Staten Island boy. My friends giggled in the main bedroom as I shut the door and said goodnight.

I turned off every light off in the living room with extreme patience. Terry turned off his phone and settled under the covers. I dried my hair the best I could and slipped in next to him. The room was nearly pitch dark. We laid down on our sides, facing each other. The sexual tension had taken several months to boil over and here we were, laying in bed. The silence was unbearable so we just started making chit-chat, like we always do over FB messenger. We talked about our broken love-lives and how ridiculous Jay could be. We never once talked about our attraction to each other. It wasn't until I mentioned how fun my trip had been so far that Terry said he was having a good time, too. I raised an eyebrow in the dark and nudged myself closer. "I guess it could always be better..." I trailed off as I settled even closer still to him. He took my hint and scooted closer so that now we were almost touching noses. "How could it be better? What would make it better?" he asks in a whisper, his voice dripping with that New York accent. I angle my face so that our lips are mere inches apart. I don't even whisper, I breathe the words to him: "I think you know how. Maybe if you made the first move and not me." He laughs softly to himself and I can feel the tickle of his breath. "You mean this?" and he breaks the spell. He kisses me hard. We go at it, kissing and kissing. He's about the best French kisser I've had in a long time. I lose myself just kissing his mouth, his face, his ears, his neck....he counters with bites and kisses all over my body. He makes me come once with his fingers, slowly and quietly. I can't let my friends hear me screaming! :) Eventually, I pull down his shorts and suck his dick with a renewed sense of purpose. I'm going to make Terry grateful he ever met me. He chokes on his words, unable to tell me how much he loves the work I'm doing on him. A few seconds of deep-throating and suddenly he's not so shy. He thrusting his hips, fucking my mouth violently, harshly whispering if I like sucking his dick. All I can do is make a few wordless groans before I pull away breathless. Terry grabs a condom and tears the packet open. He orders me to get on top and I finish myself off in a matter of minutes. He turns me over on my stomach and effortlessly fucks me from behind. I remember he once told me it was his favorite position. He comes almost instantly. We clean up, put our clothes back on and settle back into bed. We stay up a little longer, chatting about how great it felt to release all of our tension on each other. He flings an arm over me and we fall asleep. Terry doesn't snore. I hear him start to breathe softly, rhythmically. He's sound asleep. Eventually I fall asleep, too. Sated and incredibly happy.

The next morning, we sit up in bed and watch the news about the Empire State Building shooter. He puts on his street clothes back on and says goodbye to my friends with a hug. I walk him downstairs and bid him farewell with a kiss on the cheek, right in-front of the doorman of our hotel. Yeah, I'm shameless. It gets worse.

****

Fast forward to Saturday night. My last day in New York. After a trip to a Mets game and Central Park, my stomach was churning with the reality that I would be seeing Jay in a few hours. We had spent all day texting, planning out where to meet. With Terry I was as calm as a cucumber...and I like him more than Jay....why am I so fucking nervous?! 8 pm rolls around and Jay tells me he's waiting for me in-front of our hotel. My heart is pounding as I tell him we'll be right there. I give one last furtive glance at the girls and tighten the grip on my shopping bags. Heeeeeere we go! And there he is. Jay. He walks up to greet me with a HUGE grin on his face. "Hey there!" I squeak and give him a hug. OH GOD, am I really going to do this tonight? Yikes.

We take Jay back to our hotel room and chit-chat a little as we put our stuff away. I pack a little since the next morning we're set to flight back home. I can tell Jay is nervous but not as bad as Terry. Jay can artfully keep conversation with 3 girls and laughs at our jokes. We settle on drinks around the corner at Duke's. I'm going to need a shit ton of alcohol if I'm going to convince myself to hook up with Jay again.

At the bar, things aren't so bad. Jay is extremely talkative and asks all sorts of questions. I slam down two whiskey drinks and quickly feel my blood warm up. Jay rubs my right knee under the table as he talks to the girls. His hands send shock waves throughout me. I stay quiet and feel a pleasant ache settle in my pussy. Okay, I'm ready.

Back at the hotel, Jay is relentless. When the girls are not in the room, he pulls me close and kisses me passionately. My head feels light. I know I can't let them see. I beg him to just wait a few more minutes which he answers with a frustrated sigh. I distract him by telling him to wait for me on the fold-out bed as I pack my clothes for the trip home. I can feel him staring at me, like he's stalking prey. That familiar ache pools between my legs. Oh God, do I want him too!? We try to talk but again, the sexual tension is so thick you can cut it with a knife. Once I finish, I settle on the bed with him and reward him with a few kisses. I whisper at him to keep it PG as my friends are in the next room. He promises to keep it clean but it doesn't last long. He's pawing at my breasts, biting my bottom lip and pressing his erection against my thigh. Finally, one of the girls tells me the shower is free and I leap out of bed. Jay groans but I tell him it's worth the wait. "Oh come on! You've waited 8 years...you can wait 8 more minutes!" As I get ready for my shower, I look at myself in the mirror. After all the making-out with Jay, my cheeks are flushed pink. I think I want him. I think I want him to stop waiting.

After my shower, we get down to business immediately. I turn off all the lights and slip in next to him. Jay is on me instantly. And he didn't stop for hours.

HOURS. Yes. HOURS.

I can't possibly transcribe it all. As I explained it to Terry, who asked for all the sexy details the next afternoon, Jay took me on a nearly 3 hour Staten Island Ferry ride to Poundtown.

Every single position you can imagine: legs on his shoulders, arms pinned down, doggy style, me on top, you name it. Oral, masturbation, biting, choking, hair pulling, his teeth torturing my nipples and so much intense fucking. Oh God. The fucking. Slow, fast, soft, hard. He has the most unyielding dick ever. He never stopped fucking me. I swear, he had a rock-solid erection for nearly three hours. And he only allowed himself to come once. I lost track of my orgasms after I hit 10 or 11. He teased me relentlessly with his dick, pulling out almost all the way and making me beg him to put it back in. Then he'd cruelly thrust it back in, much to my delight. I've never felt a cock that skillful INSIDE of me. It's like he could read my mind. I came so much and so hard, I'd drift in and out of consciousness. I pleaded for him to let me rest but he'd just whisper in that rough New York accent, "You think we're done already? I haven't even gotten to the hard stuff yet." I'd whimper to let me suck his dick at least and give my sore pussy a rest, but he'd say no. I run my hands all over his back, sides and the strong muscles of his upper arms as he's holding himself up to fuck me savagely. I'm a human puddle of emotions, my brain feels like scrambled eggs. All I can concentrate is the pounding he's giving me in my vagina. Each orgasm is like a crashing wave, one on top of the next. At one point, I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. My mind is shattered with pleasure. I'm mumbling something stupid about Chris, who is all the way back home. I'm feeling like I'm going to burst into tears, as I sob that he hasn't texted me at all since I've been on my trip. Chris didn't even wish me goodbye! Jay's eyes widen and he looks a little panicked. I must sound idiotic, so I brush the tears away and laugh that I'm losing my mind with all this sex. We go at it for a few more minutes before he finally wills himself to ejaculate. He collapses on top of me and I run my fingers through his soft, brown hair. My legs feel like jelly. Dear God, Jay is the goddamn devil. We talk for a little. He says I'm his ideal girlfriend and strokes my face, tracing his fingers across my eyebrows: "Don't let any man tell you that you're not beautiful" he says softly. My heart melts. Now I feel bad for being so mean to him over the last 8 years. We fall asleep together. I hear him snore a little before he settles into a deep sleep.

The next morning we're up at 6 am and I walk Jay to the elevator. We say goodbye and kiss. I thank him for a great night and he grins. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. I kiss him on the mouth one last time, just like in the movies. Our lips softly part and he slips away from my arms. He looks at me one last time as the elevators doors close. He looks melancholy. I must've looked the same.

The good thing is that this is all just sex. Terry and I agree to keep being friends and we've been fine, texting and messaging about our fun time and what to do about Jay. I've tried to text with Jay very little, so as to not get his hopes up. They're all in New York and I'm very much in LA. The trip also made me realize that though I like Chris a lot, the fact that he's so busy is not working for me. He doesn't seem special enough to wait for. And that's fine. I'm glad I realized this now and not 2 months from now when he potentially might be moving away.

Great trip to New York. My confidence has been boosted and my endorphin level is at an all time high. Back to work tomorrow and to feel the crash. But for now, let me have my dirty little secret memories :)

Me looking extra gross while hanging out at Dillon's with Terry...

I would post a pic of me and Jay but I didn't take any, so here's one of him back in July during his softball tournament. His facial hair was more intense when I saw him Saturday, as he's now growing a play-off beard:

Two guys after me....gosh, I should just pack up and move to Manhattan. 

 

Give me the first taste...let it begin...

Well, uhm....last night escalated quickly. In a good way!

Oh boy....wow....where to start? I'm feeling so very, very flustered.

My track record of sitting down with a potential suitor and having a "talk" has not been well. I'm pretty sure at this point in the game I'm like 0 and 15 or something? I have "the talk", boy decides I'm not really worth the effort or that he does not see eye-to-eye with me....and then we split. I never hear from him and bridges are burned. Or maybe he lingers for a bit and then things...well...fizzle out. I often thought I was being punished for my brutal honesty and for wanting to set things straight in the beginning. Isn't honesty the best policy?

As I mentioned in the previous entry, Chris and I had "the talk" on Tuesday night about going further in our relationship and adding sex to the mix. He made it abundantly clear he was not ready. Plain and simple. Wednesday night rolls around and he texts me, true to his word, that he wants to chat for a bit. Luck would have it that my mom had just gone out of town to celebrate her birthday with my aunt. I was all alone on a weeknight. Chris asks if he can call me up instead. We're on the phone, maybe like 7 minutes before it all starts coming out. He's ready. He knows I'm alone. He wants to come over. Coincidence? Or opportunistic? Whatever. I don't care. Just get over here already!

Suddenly the minutes feel like hours. I know the drive from Santa Ana to East LA is only about 30 minutes. My heart is racing as I pace across my room. My blood is singing in my ears. Oh God! Did I shave? YES! Does my hair look good in a messy ponytail? YES! Are these panties cute enough? WHO THE FUCK CARES? He's gonna rip them off in a few minutes. My phone rings and startles me out of my insanity. He's here!!

Chris shows up just as a police helicopter flies over our heads. He raises an eyebrow, "Is my car safe here?" I smirk and shrug, "Welcome to East LA" as I lean in for a kiss. He cups my chin and smiles as our lips crush together. Oh it's on.

I feel like his little ghetto sherpa. He's miles away from the safety and tranquility of the Orange County suburbs. In the darkness of my living room, I can see his eyes are wide open with a hint of uneasiness. He looks around, taking inventory of his surroundings. I shut the front door behind me and look up at him, "Come here" I breathe and he stoops a little lower for a kiss. And then another, and then another. We're making out, standing up in the middle of my living room. I'm on my tippy-toes, my neck straining to reach him. I steady myself by placing my hands on his shoulders. He grabs my ass and pulls me even closer. He kisses brutally and I like it. Every kiss is hard, savage and his stubble feels like sandpaper. I love it. I want to feel my face burn tomorrow. I pull away suddenly and his eyes are even more rounded, a little wild, as he looks at me quizzically. I stammer: "Should we...uh...go in there?" I point to my bedroom. "Whatever you want. You tell me" he says out of breath. I nod and amble towards my room. Chris follows me but not before depositing his keys, wallet and glasses on my dining room table.

In my room, I leave the ceiling fan running. This August summertime heat has been unbearable, but in light of recent events, my nervousness has made my blood run cold. Chris and I resume our near-starvation kissing. Neither one of us want to come up for air. As we're kissing, I start to move backwards so that eventually the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed. My lips, chin and cheeks burn from all the kissing. His beard is coming in rough. I bet he didn't have time to shave before dashing over here. It's fine. I'm in heaven. Chris has backed me up against the bed and I don't miss a beat. Without breaking our kiss, I slide down onto the bed and lead him down on top of me. He follows my cue and lays next to me on the bed, kissing me even more savagely. Before things get too out of hand, I stop to turn over my giant Morrissey pillow: "Don't look Morrissey!" I yelp in mock concern and flip the pillow over face down. Chris scoffs: "Oh, I bet Morrissey would love to see my dick."

 Hands start to move everywhere. He sucks my tits, I suck his cock. Oh, he's ready. Rock hard.

The actual sex though was...uhm....a little frustrating. After we take care of me and I come violently with the aid of his quick and deft fingers, we move onto the main event. I could tell Chris was extremely nervous. The stress of the week (family, work and school) all came tumbling down on him and he struggled to put on a condom. He kept losing his erection and going soft as he tried to (finally) fuck me. The look on his face was disheartening. He was visibly upset with himself. He eventually just gave up and proceeded to jack off over me. It all happened so fast, I didn't even have time to react. He comes all over his hand and I pass him a few tissues from the Kleenex box on the nightstand. Maybe we waited too long? Maybe this added even more pressure on him to "perform" well? He excuses himself to the restroom then puts his boxer briefs back on. He relegates himself to the edge of the bed and sits up. His jaw is clenched and he has a bit of a far-away look on his face. I sit up, too and scoot over to the edge of the bed. I straddle him from behind and let my legs dangle over the edge of the bed. My breasts press up against his back as I lay my head on his right shoulder and hug him. He's not too happy with himself. Chris shakes his head, "That just ruins the whole night for me. I'm sorry." I tell him not to apologize and comfort him as best as I can but he's not hearing it. Instead of letting him beat himself over the whole thing, I change the subject and we talk about other things. It doesn't take long before he's laughing again. I kiss his shoulder and run my fingers all across his back, tracing little patterns. My fingers eventually rest on his tattoo. I lift my head slightly off his shoulder to get a better look at it. He has the word: "CREDO" in Old English lettering across the upper part of his right arm. It means "I believe" in Latin. I smile to myself. Very cute. I lay my head back on his shoulder and enjoy the sound of him talking as I press my left ear against him. His voice is deep. I love being this close to him.

We sit and talk for another hour or so before we realize it's almost 2 am. Both of us have work in the morning. We start to get dressed and he warns me to throw out the trash in the bathroom before my mom gets home: "Well, not unless you want her to see a used condom sitting on-top of a bunch of jizz-filled Kleenex tissue wads." Duly noted. While on the subject, he fishes out the foil wrapper of the Magnum condom from the pile of clothes on the floor. He holds up an unused Magnum he had in his pocket to compare the size of one of the Trojans I had laid on the night-stand just in case. "See, your condoms wouldn't have fit me" he remarks with a shit-ton of bravado. I nod knowing full well that he does have a pretty thick and stout cock. "Oh man, that sucks" I lament as I notice the difference in circumference and diameter, "Really wish you could've put a hurtin' on me tonight." Chris nods grimly and puts his shorts back on. I slip into my pajama shorts, "Oh well!" I shrug, "Next time, right?" I'm able to elicit a slight smile from Chris. Awwww yeahhhh!!! There definitely HAS to be a next time.

We walk quietly back to his car, doing our best not to make a peep. My neighbors are sound asleep and I don't want to disturb them in the least. No need to raise any suspicion. Unfortunately, one of the cats I regularly feed shows up on my door step meowing that he wants a midnight snack. Chris looks down and notices the gray striped kitty, "Hey you have a cat!" he whispers loudly. I nod, "Yeah that's Ringo....because he has rings on his tail." Ringo looks imploringly at me and ignores Chris. Not tonight, you little rascal.

We approach Chris's car and he exclaims in mock relief that his car is still safe and sound. "Oh wonderful! The glass isn't shattered on any of my windows. I get to keep my stereo!" he teases as he looks over at me to catch my reaction. I shake my head and fail miserably at not cracking a smile. Oh shut up, it's not that bad :)

We say goodnight and he promises to text me as soon as he gets home safe. A few well-placed kisses and I don't want him to leave. He pulls me in for a hug and I press myself against his chest. His plain, white cotton T-shirt feels so soft. "This wouldn't be a good time to disappear on me..." I say softly. He says he understands. Don't just have sex with me and leave, my heart pounds. Please. "Goodnight" I whisper and kiss him one last time. "Goodnight" he answers back and slips into the driver seat. I walk back to my house feeling so very alone.

So now what? Where does this leave things? I'm trying my best not to fall into the quandary of trying to define what just happened and what that makes us. I've had the worst of luck trying to pin a label on a relationship. Right now, I'm about to start getting a lot on MY plate what with back-to-back vacation trips and my mom's car needing thousand dollar repairs (radiator's fried). Suddenly, I'm going to be the busy one. Chris might have gone for the buzzer beater by squeezing in a sexual encounter, but my game-plan remains as it was. There are two knuckleheads in New York City that I have to deal with. I think I fancy the idea of making them Eskimo brothers. I haven't decided yet.

Though I appreciate Chris being responsive and seeing me before the imaginary deadline of my summer vacation, I still feel like there's nothing really tying us together. There's no promise we're going to become boyfriend and girlfriend. I sometimes wonder if he really wants me around. He shows promise and I really want to nurture what we've got going on but I also feel like I'm crowding his life. I want him to sort out his life and push all this undue pressure off himself. I think once he clears some space he'll feel more relaxed and the sex will be fantastic. But more importantly, Chris will be able to dedicate more time to seeing me and getting to know me.

I should tell him this before I leave. Hmmm. Having "the talk" has worked so far with him...I better get on it. New York City is only 5 days away.

Dealing with a heart that I didn’t break....

A lot of false starts, missed connections, broken promises and delayed plans between Chris and I....we're on the road to possibly take this relationship to the next level. I thought we were ready to have sex but at the moment, it doesn't appear that way...and maybe it's for the best, no matter how much I gnash my teeth or ball my fists.

Quite simply and succinctly: he's not ready.

What I thought were ridiculous obstacles turned out to be god-sends, because I don't ever want him to regret the decision he's about to make. I could feel he was avoiding me, or at least burying himself so far into his work that he had no time to call or text me. Hormones flew on Sunday and we made plans to see each other, but they fell through as his father had to be rushed to the ER. Chris promised the following night he'd make it up to me, but before the blazing hot afternoon of Monday was over, he had already texted me:

"I'm not ready."

I must have stared at that message for hours. Or minutes. It all starts to feel the same to me. My fingers flew to give a response. It's okay, it's fine, really, let's talk about it. But he never responded. The old me would've anguished for days on that silence and on those three words. I will not languish anymore. I resolved to call him up on the phone an hour ago. And on the 5th ring, he answered.

And we talked. For 34 straight minutes. The giant chasm of silence was lifted. He complained about his relatives being unhelpful, about how his uncle gave everyone a contagious skin rash which infected both his 98 year old grandmother and his father, the two people with the weakest immune systems. Chris says he's not sick, but this whole family drama has weighed heavily on him. School started up again and he's been buried in homework. Work is not any better and tomorrow he works a 12 hour shift at the hospital. I listened intently and offered as much comfort as I could. I told him I'm always here if he needs to vent. He appreciated it greatly and apologized for not calling me: "It seemed that every-time I'd have a free moment, it'd already be 2 am and you were probably sound asleep" he sighed with remorse. I accepted and things felt good. We joked around for a few minutes more, and I smiled to myself. He was back to his old self, making me laugh and swoon at the same time.

On a serious note, I did tell him we needed to discuss "being ready" sooner rather than later. He could take all the time he needed, but eventually we had to sort this out....NOT over text, definitely face to face or at the very least, over the phone. He agreed. I think he said he might call me tomorrow.

We hung up and I felt wistful, almost immediately. I miss him. I just wish I could hold onto him.

Part of me knows he's still got a lot of healing to do over his divorce. He's been fucked over royally. I want to help him mend his broken heart, to put together the pieces of his soul but I can't do that unless he wants to. He needs to give us time. Is it weird I want to yell at his ex-wife? I don't want to say she's the reason he's damaged...but what other reason is there? Admittedly, I was in her position once. But I could never reveal the infidelity to Dan. Why couldn't Chris's ex-wife spare him?

I leave for San Diego next weekend, and I welcome the fun times hanging out with my old college pals.

I leave for New York City in 8 days. That trip is filled with a lot more lecherous activities...

from Facebook:

Tarek went from being "in a relationship" to "single."

I don't even know where to start with that. Terry (Tarek is his full name) comes from my way-back-when....he existed a long time ago, before this blog...before Dan...before I even french-kissed a boy..and he lives in New York. And he dumped his girlfriend. And he wants me.

Terry is best friends with Jay. I hooked up with Jay 8 years ago on my first trip to NYC. He has never forgotten that. He claims to still have feelings for me and wants to fuck me. I refuse to give a solid yes or no.

Am I flying 3,000 miles to be a cock-tease? I hope not.

Lord, give me strength to keep my composure. Chris....give me a reason to wait for you. I don't want to be stuck in a holding pattern forever.

I want to be better than this....I *need* to be better than this...

Don't let it go away, this feeling has got to stay

I haven't much to report and it is slowly draining my sanity...

There was no surprise when Chris and I abruptly stopped texting as much last week. He had told me he was going to be extremely busy with his cousin visiting from Chicago. So busy, in fact, we wouldn't have a chance to go out on Friday. I haven't seen him in almost 10 days and it makes me sad. We used to text regularly throughout the day and talk on the phone. Now I'm lucky if we get in one or two sentences a day. We haven't talked on the phone at all and I think it's a little funny that I kinda forget what his voice sounds like.

But I soldier on. I know this is only temporary. As I mentioned earlier, Chris checks in with me at least once a day and it doesn't sound like he's lost interest, he's just a little preoccupied at the moment. He's still very sweet and cordial, plus it sounds like he does really miss me. I pray that this trend of separation doesn't continue. It's always a little scary to put this much distance between a blossoming relationship.We're still at that fun, infant stage where you just want to spend every waking moment with each other. I feel like I don't need a break from him yet! In fact, I crave him now more than ever as we are stuck in this forced separation.There's still so much about him I want to know.

Also, I think being apart is weighing heavily on our hormones. We've been randomly dirty talking and sexting. Chris was incredibly straightforward on Saturday night/early Sunday morning....

I literally laughed out loud when I got that message, mostly because it was just so abrupt and had almost nothing to do with what I had said previously. The change of tone was just too funny. He's blunt, yes....gotta appreciate his honesty! :D

We've talked briefly about when we're finally going to "do it." The big "it." He said hopefully before I leave for San Diego, but definitely before I leave for New York. Needless to say, I am incredibly anxious. I seriously picked the wrong time to start reading 50 Shades of Grey if I knew I wasn't going to see Chris for a while. My vibrator and I have become quite chummy lately (oh and don't make that face, dear reader...this whole blog is one giant TMI...you knew that already)

I miss you like crazy, Chris!!!