The Return

Sooo...I've been avoiding updating about my situation, because I sort of moved into an insanely private place for the last couple of weeks. But, let's see.

Okay, here's where I am with JB--I want things to stay the same. I want him to be able to be with me whenever I want; I'm selfish like that. I admit it. Cake and eatin' girl. But it's just not possible. He's having a serious talk with his girlfriend this weekend, a talk we are both tapdancing around like the bloated, ticking elephant in the room. Wait, did that metaphor even make sense? Whatever. He will have to commit more to her, and in effect, less to me. I understand; we've been ignoring reality for too long. Lost in our kink, in its possibilities. But it's time to wake the fuck up. Here, see for yourself (Sir/lola):

lola smiles.
And I'm sorry, but I don’t regret it.
I regret nothing...not with this.
Sir sighs.
I can’t talk about this now.
It's real...and no matter how we end up, this will always have been real.
Good girl. Don’t make this sad. Because it never can be. Yes. You trying to get me to cry, little one?
Sir smiles slightly.
It's not sad...it's not because it was the best thing, the most real thing. And then if we have to go back to what life makes real, we'll be some of those lucky people who felt something real for a while. And that's better than not feeling it at all, you think...? I can't think that's true, but you do, so it must be so.

When I decided to 'come out' as a spanko, so to speak, I was really afraid of what I'd find. But it was just truth. And a lot of time, we fear truth because it's so intensely real. Why though? Why wouldn't I want to feel this real...all the time?

So are we destined for this?
For what?
To live separate lives and talk occasionally, but not really be together, and if so, not until the end? Is that our destiny?
I really can’t talk about this now.
I know. I'm sorry. I'll stop. I can't talk about this regularly. So, we won't.
Why are you bringing it up? I know it’s on our minds, but I don’t want to make our time together about this.
You're right. I'm sorry.

Why do I keep pushing it? Because I don't want it to change. I am a better person with him; I am a good girl. I try. I feel accountable. I want to hear him say anything but what he will say; and if he has to say it, I can't wait. But I don't have a choice. I'm not in charge.

But lets talk about his another time.
Yes.
I can't take it now.
Or not. It's not to talk about.
Maybe.

It's me to say this, to remain conflicted, aloof, unwanting. If I want it, and I don't get it, and I put my desires over someone else's, and I have to fight, work, beg for it, then it was better to have never wanted. Can I fool myself? I hope so. Fuck, I hope so.

Real love is for books, Sir, not for real people.

I tell myself this is truth, but I secretly pray that, this one time, I am wrong. The worst part of love is that it isn't constant. You can always love, but I didn't really understand how much love shifts and evolves, waxes and wanes, breaks your heart and breaks your jaw...but I come back and back. Back and back.