The Drift.

Hello fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking talking eating drinking fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking sleep.

Wake up fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking talking eating drinking fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking eating drinking goodbye.

Domestic.

I'm home alone today. It's time for housework. And laundry. In fact, I have so much to wash that I've had to wear whatever I could find in the closet that could get dirty as I cleaned. I wound up with a polyester dress I once got from the $2 bin at a thrift store. It's paisley, polyester, and kind of slick-feeling. It has a little collar and short sleeves, and it doesn't reach my knees. I'm finding as I bend to wipe the baseboards that I can feel the air on my rump. It's so short!

The radio is blaring rock music. I move from room to room, sweeping under the beds, wiping the pictures, and finally mopping the wood floors. I'm working hard. One arm smells like Windex, my hands like Pledge. I haven't taken a break for about an hour and I've begun to sweat. This little dress is hot and beginning to cling. My hair is in a ponytail. My neck is a little damp, as is my forehead.

I'm glad I'm alone in the house, I think, as I bend over the bathtub, scrubbing. My dress is almost around my waist. What would it look like if someone walked in right now? Would he be appalled at my unkempt state? Or would something else happen? If the right person was here? Ooooh. Let me think about that for a while...

Clean.

I took a long shower this morning. I shaved my legs from ankle to ass. I roughly scrubbed my stomach and breasts with my foamy sponge. I lathered up my hand and ran it between my legs. My clit was firm, engorged, wanting to be rubbed and stroked. I had spent part of the morning in bed with forbidden thoughts. Through the soap I felt the slick juice from my cunt. And I hadn't even masturbated. Just my imagination, my mind, was all I had used.

I washed my body but it's far from clean.

When I finish writing this, I'm going to the bedroom to smoothe body lotion all over. I will notice, as I touch myself, that now I can even see how I've lost a little weight. Mostly around the hips. God, I'll think, I look better than I did in my twenties. I can pull my tightest jeans off without unbuttoning them.

I hope someone will.

State of the Union.

Today was therapy. It was mixed. Again, the difficult issues, topics. Here is the dynamic: Husband is kind of absent, I get impatient with him, then he shuts down and spaces out, withdraws even further. It happened even within the session; the therapist asked him to echo back what I had said not 5 minutes before. He managed to remember after about 10 minutes. I just started to cry, feeling so unheard.

I feel as though the only way I can help is to treat him like an egg, and never be myself (impetuous, impatient, prickly), who I kind of like. I'm not a sweet-as-sugar person so it feels just about impossible to get out of the cycle. I already feel as though I am less myself than I'd like, around here at least. There's a whole side of me that doesn't get out much at home: spontaneous, hilarious, irreverent, crass. And I'll have to shut off more of myself and be nicer nicer nicer to make this marriage work because he's so fragile? is that the word?

The good part is that we are getting down to the core of who we are together. But I don't like the picture it paints. I don't like it at all.

Phew.

Well those were a few rough days. I'm feeling as though I can unlock the door of my little detox room and let myself out. I'm no longer insane. I read back at some of the things I've written over the past week, and think Oh My Lord. I was maybe just a little bit demented.

I feel especially that my husband and I are reaching new levels of honesty. We both know separation is on the table, but don't feel we're there yet.

My emotional state is much calmer, less frantic and panicked..

I also have faith that I will have good, mind-rollicking sex again.

I am a little wary of falling back into that half-asleep state of the past few years. Before I was aware that there was a lot I was missing for myself. I really don't want to be complacent. I want to remember that I want more.

Detox.

It's bad. This is the two buckets and six cans of mushroom soup bad. Locked up in a room with nowhere to go bad. One soiled mattress and a rain poncho bad. Full detox, baby. No sex, much less no good sex in sight. No one to wrestle my panties off. No one to tell me not to wear panties in the first place. No one lovingly yanking my hair or spanking my ass. This body, which has given birth to a baby and can run miles, is left aimless. I got nowhere to go with this fire, this need. My skin crawls, yearned to be touched with expertise and desire.

Sit in this room alone on the old mattress. Eat cold soup. Keep the door locked. This is the work. This is what happens now.

Vibe.

Downtown I went to the vibrator store. I was imagining this kind of folksy interaction with cool salesgirls "Oh look everyone, she's buying her first vibe! Awwww." It was not like that. It was a big store and basically a wall of plastic boxes of vibrators. Not even good packaging. Just, well, the aesthetic was all wrong. Where were the bi-curious punkettes and the other repressed housewives kvetching over lattes? The counter girl was a black girl in a bright orange iZod - so not punk! She said "I'm going to put a battery in to make sure it works because it's non-returnable. When you're not using it, take the batteries out. If you use a lubricant make sure it's water-soluble. Do not submerge it. Use mild soap like Dove. Do you want to buy batteries?" Only that wasn't the cadence. It was like a well-drilled rap, like the one I learned while canvassing for an environmental group in college. Like, as soon as a person is in front of you go. Say the shit. Get it out and fast. It's a spiel, learned by rote. Not what I was hoping for.

I wanted a balloon! Or at least a sticker!

Now I have a vibe. The Rabbit. No batteries. Damn.

Gimme Some Sugasm.

The best of the sex blogs by the bloggers who blog them, this time categorized.

Announcements/Blogging

The Partistes (seska4lovers.com…)

Shibaricon: World’s Premiere Annual Pansexual Exhibition 2006 (spiritsex.blogspot.com…)

Stat-Aholic (shaysotherspot.blogspot.com…)

SugarClick Launched (sugarbank.com…)

Experiences

The Dreaded Scottish Cockblock (jundercovers.blogspot.com…)

The Four of Us (herknees.org…)

Killing an Afternoon (secretsofadirtygirl.blogspot.com…)

Losing M (v-boat.blogspot.com…)

Mmmmmm, Yummy! (aliferestarted.blogspot.com…)

Resistance is Futile (avaadora.blogspot.com…)

Underground (domequeen.blogspot.com…)

Fantasies

Eagle (barbiebaby09.livejournal.com…)

Exhaling (emergingontheotherside.blogspot.com…)

Hot Sugar and Wet Silk (tangysweet.blogspot.com…)

On the Dock (Fiction) (bikersballsandteacherstits.blogspot.com…)

Saturday with Adele (theholidaylife.blogspot.com…)

Stormy Night (gentlygently.blogspot.com…)

Tandem Massages (alwaysarousedgirl.blogspot.com…)

25 Words or Less (contains NSFW pics if you scroll down) (realadultsex.com…)

Babysitter (drtycplinva.blogspot.com…)

More Sugasm…

Join the Sugasm

Body Language (chaosnoir.blogspot.com…)

Can I Play with it Now? (4dirtylaundry.blogspot.com…)

Funny

Jane likes to teeter totter. (janeluvsdick.com…)

Santorum (radicalvixen.com…)

This is what Happens… (damnjezebel.com…)

We All Have AIDS (sugarpit.com…)

The Cock Interviews: Part Two (secretbrain.blogspot.com…)

Fetish & BDSM

A Long Hot Soak and Burning Candles (redvelvetropeburn.blogspot.com…)

Interesting Interactions (lifeashis.com…)

New Elena Spanking Pics (tirepaddle.com…)

On a Power Trip (whatsexmaycome.blogspot.com…)

The Perfect Fetish Photo (adelehaze.com…)

“The sweetest thing I ever saw, was you asleep and dreaming.” (eternalapprentice.blogsome.com…)

Choices - Part Three (masterenigma.blogspot.com…)

NSFW Pics

House of Babalon (eroticandy.blogspot.com…)

Looking Down (barelace.blogspot.com…)

O azul… // The blue one… (camadecasal.blogspot.com…)

Wet Panties Wednesday (hornynurse.livejournal.com…)

Anal Advocate (sexyukgirl.blogspot.com…)

Aurora Snow, Gauge and a Dildo. Pure Magic. (internetisforporn.com…)

Sex Advice / Sex Toys / Sexy Reviews

Oh Boys… May I Experiment on You? (sexeteria.blogspot.com…)

One Hefty Dose of Butch, Black, Silicone Bliss (suburbansexpot.blogs.com…)

Pretty Dumb Things (sugarclick.com…)

Sex Toys Must Have (creamonpants.com…)

Tips for Going Bare (shayssexcolumn.blogspot.com…)

The Blind Jockey (sin.typepad.com…)

Sex Commentary / Sexual Politics

Lara Drops to a C Cup (sugarjoy.com…)

Porn You Wish They’d Make (sabrinainstockings.com…)

Sex in the News - Blog-a-Thon by Blank Noise Project (seskuality.com…)

2257 and Sweet Pink Activist Cunt (fullfrontalpolitics.com…)

Fleshbot

I can't believe I missed this: a mention in the Feb 22 Fleshbot by Viviane. Thanks, V, if you're reading! The Prom Queen toasts you with her spiked cup of punch.

Tagged for 7 Songs

Confused Husband tagged me to list seven of the songs, good or bad, that are rolling around these days.

1. Fight Test by The Flaming Lips Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots
2. Fa Fa by Guster Lost and Gone Forever
3. Aimee Mann's album Whatever
4. Take Five by The Dave Brubeck Quartet Time Out
5. Is that only four? This is harder than I thought.
6. Thanks for All the Fish Soundtrack to Hitchhiker's Guide
7. Life on Mars or Queen Bitch by David Bowie Soundtrack to the Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou
8. I Can't Take It by Wilco

Right now iTunes has shuffled to Sweet Honey In The Rock. Boy, they are somethin.

Sugasm, Baby.

If you're here for the first time, Welcome! Take a look around.

The best of the blogs by the bloggers who blog them, this week starting with the letter H:

Memory.

I took off my wool pants. I climbed back into the made bed and snuggled down. It was 2 in the afternoon. My mind wandered through various scenarios - things I had speculated about, you and I in familiar places doing sexy things - but couldn't rest on one. Finally I dove all the way back to our first night together. The next morning, actually. It was the first time you made me come. You watched my face intensely, urging me on with 'yes, yes, good girl' It was as though you were a spectator, objectively watching. You loved that you could do this. You wanted me to take it, to use you for what I wanted. I ground against you, clutching at whatever part of you I could reach. This is what I thought of: you watching me as you made me come. Touching myself to this memory brought a hot bursting POW of orgasm, then rippling aftershocks. I only stopped when my hand cramped.

State of the Union.

Husband had a melancholy day yesterday. We talked about it over dinner and he said that part of it was our status. Will we pull out of this? What are our odds? We rehashed a few things from therapy. Finally, he tearily asked if I wanted a divorce.

I said no.

Guess I'm still invested to the degree of not wanted to break things off. My own answer confused me because I also have such a strong impulse to flee. I guess when push comes to shove, I'm still in.