Monday, 12 March 2007

My best friend is pregnant

...and I'm so pleased for her! She called me for something that I just thought was one of our regular chats. ]

Who are you by bie
Fortunately I didn't start unburdening the latest "Me & J" antics when she asked how I was (like I did when she called to say she got engaged), but it wasn't until I said "so how is your trying out for a baby going" that she told me.

It's weird, it's almost like I have to get used to being pregnant myself, and probably it is as close as I'll get for a few years yet.

I feel a little sad that I'm not in the same situation. Out of my friends, she is probably the luckiest in terms of men; she's managed to turn her taste around completely and find someone who's both stable and supporting.

Although we were never the kinds of girls who dreamed of getting married and having babies as we grew up, I guess in our minds we always imagined we would be doing those things together.

As we don't even live in the same country at the moment, there would I guess be no real together about it even if we were moving at the same pace in our personal lives, but at the same time I wish we could share the excitement, the stories, the morning sickness on a more intimate level than just her tellin me over the phone while I'm meant to be working.

I'm not saying that she is the reason I want to settle down, it's just that I feel acutely that being in completely different life stages from your friends is quite lonely in a way.

I'm seeing my friend in a few weeks, at Easter, and I can't wait to hug her and tell her in person how pleased I am for her. Her timing has been impeccable; this way she'll have time to have the baby and lose the baby fat, all in time for the last dress fitting before her wedding!

Meanwhile I'll call our other friend who has a depressive husband and discuss the potential effect of paternal post-natal depression on babies to hammer home to myself that dipping my finger in a used condom would be a very bad idea.

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Tuesday, 6 March 2007

Learn to be still

I've talked a lot lately about being still.

physalis by Wild*Dreams
As I've said, I've never been very good at it.

I've always preferred rivers and oceans to lakes. Even though the ocean is not "going anywhere" as such, it's always doing something, its waves are relentless, it eats fishermen and will grind away at beach rocks until they're shiny pebbles and fine sand. I like that. Lakes; they just sort of sit there. And they're not as nice to swim in.

Since I stopped nagging J about getting a house, I've been feeling uneasy. He has kept asking me if anything is wrong, but, unusually for me, I've been unable to articulate what's been bothering me. We've settled for cuddles, as they seem to comfort us both for the time being.

Today when I woke, I really didn't want to get out of bed. I felt bloated, my legs were heavy and my mind syrupy.

Fortunately, the PlayStation was beckoning in the front room, I wouldn't allow myself to play without doing something "useful" first. I got up, did some grooming.

As I was operating out an ingrown hair on my bikini line, I realised that the reason I feel so uneasy is that I feel that by stopping my work towards settling down (with or without J), I've simply stopped going places. I feel uneasy because I'm still.

And there's really nothing wrong with my life. I have people I miss, yes, but I am also surrounded by a group of rather agreeable friends. I have J, and I love him. It even looks as if the work situation has sorted itself out (through a lot of hard effort from my place, I hasten to add). It is spring.

Yes, it annoys me that I can't paint our walls in a colour I like, but in the big scheme of things, I shouldn't let it matter so much that I'm not in what I imagine would be an ideal place.

And when I got used to that idea, I really felt a lot better. I had a lovely breakfast with myself outside in the sun.

Last night I had a longish chat to my ex-boyfriend's dad (yes, odd, I know; but I'm like the daughter he never had) about this job interview I have coming up that I'm extremely nervous about.

"If you're meant to get that job, you'll get it," he said. "Remember, a bit of nerves is what you need for maximum performance." It made me feel better.

I'll try to hold onto this feeling, that really my life isn't so bad, even when it's standing still.

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Sunday, 4 March 2007

Win some, lose some

A side effect of SSRIs, as we all know, is delayed ejaculation. So quite often these days, I get a shag that goes on for as long as I please, as he has no problem getting hard, I cum like nothing else -but he doesn't.

geest banana by edwardolive
I mentioned in the previous post that I'm getting laid more often. It's weird, you'd think that if J can't cum, he'd be less interested in sex, but in fact the opposite seems to be the case.

After experimenting a couple of times, we have figured out that it's simply harder for him to orgasm, no matter how horny he is. He can be rock hard and throbbing, with me administering a blowjob (his favourite way of cumming - surprise, surprise), but he can't actually cum. He can usually tell if it's on or not.

I guess what has happened is that since he only gets actual relief once or maybe twice a week, he stands to attention for nothing at all.

We've been kissing a lot lately, he seems to be all over me and rubbing his constant hard-on against my bum as soon as I turn my back. I have to say I relish the attention.

Yesterday morning, we'd snuggled in bed for ages, and decided to finally get up. I rolled over him in bed to grab something from the floor on his side, and he grabbed me and kissed me, and then we were at it.

He was groaning as he thrust his tongue hungrily into my mouth, and I felt his half-hearted morning wood grow to a decidedly full-hearted one against my stomach, his slippery pre-cum like glue between our bellies.

"Let me lick you," he begged between snogs. And who was I to say no, despite the Playstation beckoning in the front room... I sat on his face, him grabbing my ass to push his tongue deep into me.

I leaned back and grabbed his cock; he bucked against my hand and I was quite amazed at how hard he was. As I rubbed him harder and faster, his licking got more intense as my juices wet his face.

I turned around and slipped a condom on him, and he fucked me hard, first with me on top, then from behind. He was so huge he had to hold back not to hurt me. But he couldn't cum. "Tell me when it's enough," he whispered in my ear.

As I rolled onto my back, exhausted, he peeled the condom off his still-throbbing manhood.

So it was hardly a surprise this morning when he grabbed me for round two, just as I was leaving to jump on the bus to work, of course... I ended up having to drive, and still being a little late. But as I sucked every drop of cum out of his cock, him grabbing my head and thrusting into me, I decided it was a lot better than getting soaked outside by the rain.

It's strange to see how the dynamic of our relationship has changed just because of the antidepressants -and he's still quite depressed! Watch this space for further adventures when they actually start affecting his mood...

PS! I apologise for the fact that all of my headlines are Robbie Williams inspired at the moment; best not to ask.

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Overdose at Christmas, give it up for lent..

Are you a good Christian? I'm certainly not, but I do like giving something up for lent. Who knows, maybe God is up there somewhere and will help my personal growth especially during this period as I hope and pray.

Lemon and Sugar by The Department
At Christmas, I vowed that it would be the last year I celebrated the holidays in a rented apartment.

Since then, I've obviously been busy convincing J that buying a house is a good idea. Doing a quick blogsearch on "house", you'll see that I've been quite obsessed with the idea.

It's for a lot of reasons, mainly
  1. I want my own house
  1. I want commitment

Obviously there's the economic aspect as well, but you know, J's Girlfriend has never been to good about the whole money thing. She leaves that to J, which seems to work well, as she's hardly ever broke anymore.

Anyway. To make a long and tragic story short, the nagging hasn't gotten me anywhere. After the big bust-up last week, I decided that for lent this year, I'm going to stop nagging J.

I've stopped asking if he loves me, stopped asking if/when we can buy somewhere to live together.

And it's worked wonders. We're much happier, we haven't argued since, and we've had sex two days in a row, initiated by him.

This could of course also be partly due to his antidepressants kicking in; both the happier him, less irritable, and the "raised" libido.

This is a bit worrying, I realise, as he's clearly happier in a relationship which is all about the blowjobs and romance, and less about the practicalities.

But, of course, lent is only on until Easter. So we shall see then.

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