Druncle

People tell me - often after a fight has occurred - that I should just say what I'm thinking and not sit on it. I agree there are circumstances in which I need to be better about that; if you are consistently doing something that drives me bananas, it's my responsibility to bring it up.

But there's another circumstance, too, and this is where it becomes a grey area: the moment when acknowledging something makes it more real. Sometimes I keep feelings to myself not because I think secrets are fun or I like drama or I'm afraid of confrontation, but because I think the thing will be easier to work through if it's just me in the arena. Another person's focus can be helpful, or it can simply add more weight to something that didn't need to be that important.

When I've been accused of keeping secrets, that's usually what has happened. I didn't say something at the first sign of whatever-it-was because it wasn't that important at the time, and I'm inclined to sit back and see how things play out rather than make a big deal about them immediately. And some things do get better or disappear, and then I've avoided unnecessary drama by not saying anything. But some things don't, so by the time they reach a point where I've accepted a need to address them, I get the "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" response, and I can never adequately explain just why.

I'm not going to default to bringing up every little thought that passes through my head; my head is loud some days. The voice in the back of my mind is the drunken uncle at the family reunion. Sometimes he's right, and sometimes he's just spewing crazy talk, and life is usually easier after he passes out by the pool.

Sisterly Love(?)

I got a phone call last week that I've been waiting on for five years. My uncle Adam tried to get me disinherited from my grandmother's will in 2009 because I'm not biologically related to my father. The judge gave me a summary judgment, saying that Adam has no case. He's been ordered to reaccount and include me.

Now I just have to deal with the fact that my own sisters wanted me out of the family so they could get more money for themselves. I'm not too good at holding grudges, but how on earth do you forgive that?

Summer

I don't just like summer. I have a passionate love affair with this season.

She encourages me to sleep naked. To go for long, wandering walks in the dark. To go play outside in the rain and get soaked to the skin, returning to the indoors dripping wet and making a mess.

To drive with the windows down, music cranked up and singing at the top of my lungs.

Baby you a song
You make me wanna roll my windows down
And cruise

Skylar Sassypants

The D/s relationship dynamic is both old and new to me. I have known that I was some form of kinky since I was in my early teens, and over the years I've read enough material by kinksters and talked with enough kinky friends to have a sense of "I get what that's about."

But when I stop and think about it, I'm pretty short on actual experience. Kevin and I talked regularly about kink, but we never got around to a lot of it. Some things we played with once or twice and then set aside; in retrospect, he was really bad at introducing new things in a positive way. Sometime in the last year of our relationship he told me to call him Sir, and I said hell no. That title was reserved for Aiden. Even when I thought we were never going to speak again. Kevin never had that undefinable something that earns an honorific.

I've read on blogs and forum posts the musings of various kinksters on BDSM life, subs pondering how to be good subs, the definitions of things like obedience, Doms ranting or raving about bratty behavior, etc. etc. The internet contains everything, doncha know. And here's the gist of this post...some of the things that used to be merely academic to me are starting to become personal. Something that I might have read a year ago and thought, 'What is so difficult about that?' might be something that I read now and think, 'Wow, that's a really good question.'

Or an 'I wonder what that's like' becomes a 'That's me!'

I noticed a little while back that I get bratty when Aiden doesn't play hard with me. I came to that realization after a weekend in which we had entirely vanilla sex, and I turned into a pill by Sunday night. My tendency is toward the physical when I get sassy, and I ended up basically spanking him and getting no reaction. I wasn't quite conscious at the time of what was going on in my head, but I figured it out shortly thereafter and explained to him what had happened. He said he needed to remember that I need "regular percussive maintenance."

A couple of weeks ago, he threatened to spank me for spilling vodka on the table while mixing drinks. I slapped him on the ass, and he turned right around and smacked me in the face. I giggled. He remembered. (This entire exchange occurred in front of my derby wife, who didn't bat an eye...I'm so glad my friends understand me.)

My primary mechanism for learning and understanding is visual, and I think kinetic is a close second, or even a first in the right situation. I seem to depend on the physical reminders that Sir owns me. The verbal ones are excellent icing, but if I don't literally feel it, I don't figuratively feel it either. I get the craving to be pushed into a wall, to be held down, to be smacked in the face, to feel his hands on my throat as the world greys out, to be unquestionably reminded that I am his.

Renegades [fiction]

a story by Skylar

It took almost a dozen shots before I heard the tell-tale breaking sound I was listening for. Accuracy isn't the strongest point of an airsoft rifle, but it would get me in less trouble than having a real rifle would if we got caught. Still behind the tree at the edge of the access road, I stood up and packed my weapon carefully in my backpack beside the other equipment. The wheezy pop of another rifle sounded several times from down the road, followed by a moment of silence, then a lilting whistle that told me the second camera had been dealt with. I stepped out of the trees, paused to adjust the straps on my shoulders, and jogged down the road. When I reached the corner of the fence, Aiden was already waiting.

I pointed through the chainlink to the next corner, and we walked quietly along the fence toward the back of the compound. It was beyond the reach of our flashlights, but I knew there was a section around the back where the fence had leaned over nearly to the ground, from the weight of snow or possibly other mischief-seekers. We rounded the corner and started along the back edge, walking more slowly now as the wild vines grabbed at our ankles. A few yards in, the fence fell gradually away from my outstretched hand.

I stepped up onto the ramp created by the leaning wire and searched for my balance. The posts rattled and the fence bounced me gently up and down, threatening to throw me down the hill but not quite managing. A sudden dip toward the ground forced me to scramble for new footing as he stepped up beside me. Under the extra weight, the fence let out a tired scraping sound and gave up the battle. We stepped down onto the broken asphalt.

From there, we scaled the side of a dilapidated carport onto a sagging roof skinned with ancient astro-turf. Picking our way carefully along so we wouldn't fall through, we reached the back and stepped down. The flashlight beams showed unkempt weeds reaching out from between chunks of grey concrete, toward a rounded lip of tiles. Some of the tiles had already leaped to their destiny in the bottom of the empty pool. I walked around to the shallow end and stood for a moment, surveying the territory. The bowl was full of weeds and dead branches, and the drain at the deep end sucked the shadows down toward the end of the world.

"Ready?" I asked softly, hoping he'd go first.

"Go ahead," came the reply, and I could hear the grin behind it. "This was your idea."

I swallowed hard. It was indeed my idea, and now I was wondering why. Pools scared me, with or without water in them. I reminded myself it was the best place for the purpose. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I sat on the edge, put my feet over the rim, and pushed off, skidding awkwardly to the bottom. There was a loud crack as I landed on one of the branches. I found my feet, grabbed the detritus, and started throwing it into the deep end. It would give us more room to move, and maybe if I covered the drain with enough stuff I would forget about it.

There was a scraping sound as he slid down behind me, and the contents of his backpack clanked as it bounced off the floor. I suppressed a laugh at the thought of what we were about to do, and felt a little better.

Another minute had the shallow end clear enough to work in, and a light sweat on my forehead. We unpacked our things and set our bags on the ramp leading toward the deep end to get them out of the way. I tried not to look at how high the edge was, focusing instead on making sure my bandana was tied securely. Finding a way out was a problem for later.

We each pulled out a bottle and doused our props, then shook them off toward the deep end. The sky was clear and moonless, the air still - it was a perfect night.

"Light up?"

"Light on."

The schick of the lighter echoed once in the concrete bowl. A tiny flame hung for a moment, and then three wicks flared to life. I reached out and suspended mine over the top until they caught. The fire doubled as I pulled them back, and suddenly we were submersed in light. The edges of the pool turned orange and our shadows leaped up the walls. They danced and split into eight, then twelve as we separated our torches. After a few practice throws, we turned to face each other, grinning as our eyes met.

Two torches in the left hand, one in the right. We hadn't brought any music for this burn; it was too risky. The sound of crackling fire filled the bowl as we paused to catch a rhythm. A nod, hands up, hands down, and we were flying. Our shadows spasmed, growing past the rim into the sky and then shrinking down to hide under our feet and back again as the flames whirled.

"Hup." Two passes, two catches. "Hup." Again.

The warm night grew hot as the bubble of stagnant air was laced with fire. "Hup." The slapping of the torches in our palms and the tearing sound of fire at high speed were all the music we needed. "Hup." Pass forward, pass left. "Hup." Forward, left. Light leaped frantically as the world stood still. We kept our eyes locked, feeling the arcs rather than looking at them. The smell of oily smoke wound through the air, and the flickering blue light could have been water back in the pool's heydey.

Wait, blue?

My head snapped up as I registered the change. My concentration shattered, I missed a catch. The stray torch bounced off the wall behind me and rolled down the ramp. Aiden managed to hang onto his three as I dropped my remaining two and scrambled for the edge of the bowl to see what was going on. I missed my grab for the lip and slid down the wall on my knees, but I didn't need to see it to know there was a cop cruiser parked outside the fence. By the time I picked myself up again, Aiden had five of the torches out. The sixth one had rolled toward the drain, lighting the dead brush as it went.

"Shit!"

He managed to retrieve the errant prop, but putting out the fire was a lost cause. The wood had been dead and drying for a long time and was excited to provide fuel for the blaze.

He jammed the torches and fire blanket in his bag while I stuffed the bottles in mine, and we zipped closed and shouldered up. A shout came from the edge of the compound where we'd crossed the fence, but I couldn't understand it over the crackling of the bonfire we'd started. Sweat dripped down my cheeks as I stared up at the rim. Why the hell had I thought this was a good idea?

Aiden's grip on my shoulder pulled my attention. "Come here," he said, taking a knee as close to the wall as the bowl's curvature would allow. "Step up."

I put my foot on his thigh, got my hands over the lip of the pool, and awkwardly scrambled up as he supported my foot. I slung a knee over the edge and felt his hand on my ass, pushing me the rest of the way over. I rolled, came up short against my backpack, and jumped to my feet. Glancing sideways, I could see the cruiser's lightbar flashing a blinding pattern through the fence. I didn't see the officer. I crouched down and reached back into the pool.

Aiden grabbed my arms and walked up the wall as I leaned back and straightened my legs, pulling him up. The bonfire in the deep end was roaring now, billowing smoke into the night sky. The temperature in the pool had risen dramatically. My jeans were sticking to my legs and restricting my movement, and Aiden's shirt was dark with sweat.

"This is private property!" came a yell from near the cruiser. I looked over to see two uniformed officers, one standing by the fence doing the yelling, the other walking away around the compound. The cruiser was parked by the edge where we had entered, so we'd have to walk within ten feet of the cops to reach the downed spot in the fence, and once we got over it, the only way to leave was a twenty-foot drop into the woods.

"Is there another way out?" Aiden asked. I nodded and turned in the other direction, jogging away from the pool. I wanted to run, but my flashlight had had the idea first and disappeared without me. Reaching the knee wall at the edge of the pool deck, I paused. The bonfire and the cop lights had blinded me, and the other side of the wall was pitch black. I knew there was a drop into a small alley, and a pipe to step on partway down, but I couldn't see a thing.

A flickering light appeared over my shoulder as Aiden thumbed his lighter to life. It wasn't great, but it was better than nothing. The rusty pipe sticking out of the stone foundation flickered into view, and I swung my legs over the knee wall, lowered myself on my palms, and kicked out. My foot landed solidly on the pipe, but as I let go of the wall, there was a crunch. The pipe gave way and my heart stopped for a sickening second as I fell to the ground. One of my feet met dirt and the other met a rock. My ankle twisted as the rest of me continued down, and I yelped in pain.

"You okay?" I heard Aiden's voice from overhead, and looked up to see his silhouette leaning over the wall.

"Fine," I replied. "I don't know you can get down here, though."

He disappeared, and I pulled myself upright, using the wall for support. Stumbling toward the fence, I glimpsed movement on the other side, and realized it was one of the officers. I crouched down and waited by the corner where the wall turned toward the woods, hoping Aiden had seen the cop too.

A few moments passed while I studiously ignored the throbbing in my ankle. I could hear the fire even over the wall, and I hoped the pool was as far from the building as I remembered. Suddenly there was a rustling in the vines to my left. I started, wondering if I was about to face down a hungry animal, and then the plants parted and Aiden popped up. "There are stairs," he whispered, grinning, and I shook my head ruefully. "Thought you said you knew this place?"

"Well. Not every inch," I said.

He grabbed my chin and put his nose to mine. "I'll give you every inch." I bit my lip so I wouldn't giggle out loud.

"Did - did you see the cop?" I asked, forcing my train of thought back onto the rails. He nodded.

"She went back that way," he replied, indicating the front of the compound.

"Good. Um. Give me the fire blanket."

He reached into his bag and handed me the square of sooty fabric. I folded it in half, hobbled to the fence, and threw it over the barbed wire at the top.

Aiden came over and whispered in my ear. "That's not going to be enough."

"It’ll be plenty," I said, and walked away from the fence, along the side of the building, the way the cop had gone. The windows in the building were boarded up, but halfway to the front, one of the boards had been broken, leaving enough room for a large dog to get through. "I can't climb the fence anyway."

I stuck my head through the window, but there was nothing to see without light, so I pulled back.

"Here." Aiden had found his flashlight somewhere. As I was putting it through the window for another look, I heard footsteps. If the cops saw us go in the house, we were done. I grabbed the light between my teeth and hauled myself head-first through the window. The beam flashed over a carpeted floor littered with broken glass, and I wiggled through and landed on my shoulder. I rolled sideways as Aiden somersaulted through behind me.

We lay on the floor and listened as the footsteps came closer, then passed by the window on the other side of the fence and continued down the hill. They paused, and then a voice said something I couldn't quite make out. A moment later, another set of footsteps sped by the window, toward where I had left the fire blanket. A few words floated through the window. "Back...fence...fire." "Search...woods..." "...on the road..."

"I was planning on trespassing tonight," I whispered into the dark. "Not being hauled up for arson."

"I'll haul up your arse," came the response, and I snorted. I rolled onto my stomach and scooted carefully across the floor, feeling over the shattered glass until I found where Aiden had landed. I snuggled up close and stuck my nose in his ear.

"Oops?" I whispered.

"Oops?" he said. "Is that all you have to say - oops?"

"Well, I -"

"You have been a right pain in the ass tonight," he said, sitting up. The flashlight rolled across the floor and shone on a mirror leaning against the wall, lighting half his face. His hair had been yanked out of its ponytail and was hanging down around his shoulders in dark chaos. "You've made a lot of trouble, and you know what happens to troublemakers, don't you?" He glared at me, and I caught my breath.

"They, ah, they get punished," I said, sitting up and scooting backward just a little. "But it was an accident -"

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded, reaching forward and grabbing my arm in an iron grip.

Any answer I might've had was drowned by the sudden whoop of a siren close by. I could feel the engine as much as I could hear it drawing closer. Red lights flashed off the trees outside and made jagged shapes on the walls. Fragments of voices floated around, and a metallic rending noise that was probably the fence being forcibly removed from its mooring.

"Do you understand?" Aiden asked, snapping my focus back from a mental image of firefighters swarming the back of the compound.

"What?" I had missed whatever I was supposed to understand.

A sudden stinging erupted in my cheek as he slapped me. It was light, but threatened more. “Listen to me when I’m talking to you,” he said. “Now, you put your face on the floor and present your ass to me. Do you understand?”

“Mm hmm.” I started to turn around, but he grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back.

“Excuse me?” he said. I stared at him. “What did you say to me?”

“I said yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes. Sir. Come on, I was doing what you wanted –”

“Shut your mouth,” he said, releasing my shoulder and pointing to the floor. “When I ask you a question, how do you answer?”

“Yes, sir,” I mumbled, turning around again on all fours. He reached over and removed the necklace from around my neck. I wondered but didn’t question.

“That’s right. You answer ‘yes sir’ or you don’t talk. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now present your ass.”

Already on all fours facing the back of the room, I answered, “It’s right there.” He sighed, and I hurriedly added, “Sir.”

“Face. On the floor. Now.”

I leaned over and put my face down, and the smell of must and mildew overcame my senses. “Ew,” I said, before I could stop myself, and started to get up. Suddenly his hand was around the back of my neck and my cheek was being ground into the carpet. “Sorry,” I choked out.

“The line is ‘yes, sir,’” he growled in my ear. “Put your hands behind your back.” I lifted my arms and crossed my wrists over my lower back, and he looped the necklace around them. It wasn’t strong enough to hold me, but I wouldn’t struggle; I didn’t want to break it.

“Yssr,” I answered, unable to make it any clearer with my face mashed into the rug. He shifted behind me, and suddenly his hand came down on my ass so hard I squeaked.

“Do you enjoy disrespecting me?” he demanded.

“No sir,” I answered, “I mean, yes sir. I mean –” I couldn’t figure out the right answer, so I shut my mouth.

His hand came down again, on the other cheek this time, and I winced.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused?” he asked, moving his hand from my neck to my hair and grabbing a handful.

“Yes sir.” Smack. “Ow!”

“Yes, I know it hurts. And you deserve it, don’t you?”

“Yes sir.” Smack. I whimpered but managed not to say anything. My eyes watered. Voices came in the window, and I tried to listen but didn’t catch anything useful.

Smack. I choked down a yelp so the people outside wouldn’t hear me. I wondered if they could hear his hand hitting my ass. Smack. The voices faded away, and I guessed the fire would drown out the noise.

Smack. Tears spilled over the bridge of my nose and onto the floor. I forced myself to breathe as I waited for the next one, but it didn’t come. Instead he started rubbing me, massaging my ass with one hand, still gripping my hair with the other. I melted as the heat from his palm wiped the pain away, and felt myself getting wet. His hand wandered to my thighs and then to my pussy, and I leaned into it, silently begging for more. He lingered for a moment, rubbing my lips, and then the touch disappeared.

Smack. I squealed that time, catching myself quickly and cutting it off with a strangled choke. Smack.

There was a lot of noise out back of the building now, people clomping around in heavy boots, yelling to each other and dragging things around. Smack. Red and blue lights danced over the walls when I opened my eyes. Smack. I moved a little across the floor with every hit, and a shard of glass started digging into my cheek. I tried to move my head, but only succeeded in digging it deeper. Smack.

He stopped again, and I stayed where I was, waiting, holding my breath. Something bumped against the outside wall of an adjacent room. Aiden released his grip on my hair, and I heard the zipper on his backpack and then the shifting of things inside of it, and I wondered what else he had felt necessary for a night of illegal mischief.

Thud. That was different. A more powerful hit that rocked me to the bone but didn’t sting so much. Thud. My face dug into the floor, and the glass into my cheek. Thud. This was easy compared to the spanking, and it was wonderful. Thud. I listened dreamily to the chaos outside through the rhythm of Aiden hitting me, the sharp sound of his breathing riding steadily over the other noises. Thud.

I lost track of time, floating on the bass rhythm being applied to my ass and thighs. Eventually I realized he had stopped, and I opened my eyes. The colored lights still flickered on the walls. I felt the dried remains of tears on my face, the sharp pain in my cheek, and then Aiden’s hands on my ass. He rubbed my thighs and my cheeks, then my lips, and I moaned involuntarily. He put his knees on the floor between mine and pressed his hips against me, and I could feel his hard cock through his jeans, throbbing against my pussy.

His hands slid up my hips, along my ribs to my shoulders, then down my back. Up my hips again, then grabbing the waistband of my jeans at my lower back with one hand and between my legs with the other.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you,” he growled, pulling my hips back against him until I thought my jeans would rip right off.

“I want – I want, you to fuck me,” I gasped, removing the words from the carpet as best I could.

“That’s such a bad idea,” he whispered, and I could hear him smiling through the words. “We might get caught.”

“Mm hmm – yes sir,” I agreed.

“If you really want me to fuck you,” he said, “Beg for it.”

I paused. It wasn’t in my usual bag of tricks to beg for things. I never had before, and didn’t particularly want to start now. He ran a hand slowly over my pussy, and I burned.

The silence hung for a second, and then he took his hands off me.

“Please,” I found myself saying. I bit my lip but couldn’t stop the words. “Please fuck me, Aiden. I want your cock. Please.”

“Good girl,” he whispered, and slid a hand between my thighs to unbutton my jeans. He pulled my pants down to my knees, and the sudden rush of air told me my underwear were soaked. A moment later, those came down too, and the air touched my bare skin. My heart beat faster as I heard the buckle on Aiden’s belt being undone, and then hitting the floor. The head of his cock brushed my clit, and I shuddered, and then he slid into me.

I gasped and tried to moan quietly as he filled me. He pushed into me gently at first, then harder, and it was all I could do not to cry out. His breathing came faster, and he grabbed my wrists, pulling me onto him over and over as my mind fogged up and my breathing became ragged.

Suddenly he pulled away, and I realized there had been a noise from the area of the building nearest the pool, louder than the ones made by the firefighters outside.

“Check upstairs,” a voice said from the next room. “Make sure nothing landed on the roof.”

In my panic, I broke out of my necklace handcuffs and scrambled out of my jeans. I grabbed the flashlight and my pants, Aiden grabbed the backpacks, and we slipped through the nearest door. The next room turned out to be nothing but a closet. We made to turn back, but the clomp of heavy boots at the other end of the room stopped us. I froze against the door frame, and Aiden kneeled down and eased the door closed until we could just see a sliver of the room.

It was pitch black in the closet when I turned the flashlight off, and I tried not to think about what variety of spiders or other things might be waiting there to bite me. Then Aiden grabbed my thigh, and I almost screamed. I opened my mouth to ask what the hell he was doing, then stopped myself as the beam of a heavy-duty flashlight cut through the room we’d been in. As I was watching it prod into the corners and inspect the broken glass and the mirror, Aiden put his face between my legs and his tongue on my clit.

I clapped a hand over my mouth and grabbed his hair with the other, trying to pull him away from me, but he wrapped his hands around my ass and pulled me with him.

“You – I – stop that –” I panted, trying to keep the words as quiet as possible. He continued licking like I hadn’t said anything. “You are. Going. To make me. Come.”

I took a deep breath and tried to ignore it, but his tongue was insistent, rubbing gently back and forth and building a fire I couldn’t put out. “Please –” I whispered, the word stop disappearing as I stopped breathing so I wouldn’t make any noise. The orgasm ripped through me and I convulsed, still holding my breath, both hands now over my mouth. Aiden held me upright with some help from the door jamb until I stopped moving, then stood up.

He licked his way up the side of my neck, bit my earlobe, and whispered, “Bend over.”

There was just enough room for me to turn around and do as he said. The footsteps outside were fading as my hands touched the floor, and my mind relaxed a little bit as he entered me from behind.

“Who’s my dirty little slut?” he whispered through the darkness, grabbing my hips tightly and pulling me onto him.

“Me. I’m your dirty slut, sir,” I whispered back. I heard his breath catch, felt his cock pulse and his hands grab my hips tighter as he came.

* * *

Sorting out pants and backpacks by the beam of the remaining flashlight, I stopped when I saw the ass of my jeans was covered in black marks.

“The hell?” I wondered out loud, holding them up so Aiden could see what I was puzzling over.

He grinned. “There are many uses for a good fire prop.”

Plow Stop

Negative emotions are an annoyance to me, something to be mitigated and kept in check. I'm not reactive like I used to be. This is what I learned on the back side of the spiral I was in when I stopped blogging. I strapped myself in firmly and put the gas pedal of Life on the floor, continually picking up momentum as I got better at staying in motion and finding the positives.

After a period of particularly high speed that came out of dumping Kevin, I slowed down once in October, and wrote this in my journal...

This long weekend with nowhere to go has forced me to slow down. I've been running high-tension on caffeine and adrenaline for weeks now. One day off wasn't enough to stop my running, but at over 48 hours now of quiet, I'm stumbling. My head has been so noisy, and I couldn't make it stop. The chatter and the tension both keep me going and require me to keep going. I work, skate, eat, and go to the gym. I wondered how long I could keep it up, and I'm guessing the answer is "until a long down-time."

Here I am now. Sitting on the floor of my room, listening to Matchbox 20. I've spent the last few hours coming down off this weeks-long high. I haven't felt like this in a long time. I've been productive today but I feel like I'm losing ground. I'm losing people.

[...] I will continue to swim through the mud and hope I'm moving forward, because hard work is what I do. I can't stop pushing. Thirty in five, the real-life version.

(Thirty in five is a reference to doing thirty laps of the derby track in five minutes. The current minimum requirement is 27, and I set a goal for myself that I would do 30. I don't actually know if I've accomplished that goal, because I haven't been timed in years.)

I spent that long running from my demons. I was afraid to stop, but stop I have, and it's actually okay. Getting back into this blog and my email account were the actions that let the demons catch up. They were different than the image that I've carried in my head since I set off, but they weren't worse. They bared their fangs as we got reacquainted, but we sat down and hashed things out, and Aiden showed me a direction today in which we could actually be allies.

Aiden: I know having emotions is messy sometimes. but the highs are so much better. Sometimes we need to make a mess to clean things up.

Remember I have awoken profound love in you. That is not a trifling emotion. It may have dislodged some other things on the way out. As we unlock emotional torrents we sooth the knot that created them and allow you to become an even better version of yourself

We make a mess to further shine you.

Laid Bare

I haven't fought with anyone in so long that I've forgotten what the process is like. The recovery that followed our fight was entertaining. I floated up from hurt and hiding, to sad and open, where I did some gardening, to a sort of neutral that I might call emotional limbo. Aiden found out that his brother had died unexpectedly the previous night in a heart attack/car crash combination. I said I was sorry and offered to go give him a hug in person, wishing there was more I could do; but as much as any of us wish that we could "make it all better" for the people we love, sometimes it's impossible.

He didn't take me up on the hug, so I went grocery shopping and got some things done around the house. I was chatting with him on and off for the entire day, and he told me I needed a spanking. I recoiled, thinking that if he took me in hand, I would've burst immediately into tears. How could he threaten to hit me then?

By the late afternoon, my libido was making a reappearance, and I was cracking jokes. A little while after that I found myself in the incredibly rare state of being openly emotional in a positive way. Listening to a playlist of alt rock that was new to me probably helped open me up. Aiden said he was sorry to be missing the mushy aftereffects, and I said I was sorry as well. He said I could hold onto that state, but I said no, there's no way it would survive either work or practice.

Taking off my armor means I'm sensitive to the bad around me as well as the good. Being vulnerable in the office or on the track is full of potential to feed me a bad day. Yes, I take responsibility for my own emotions - and I do it by wearing a virtual jacket that lets me deflect any negativity that might come my way. I'm also less inclined to take that jacket off around Shelby after the way she shelled me on Saturday night. The flashing of her mean streak has put me on my guard. I'd seen it before, but this was the first time she directed it at me.

That was a tangent. What I wanted to get at was maybe, even though I can't leave my armor off a lot of the time, I can remember what it feels like to come out and see the light every now and then.

Muppetous

Speaking of learning things by fucking them up...this weekend has been ugly. After the emotional swamp-swim this week, I really needed a hug. I didn't go to see Aiden on Friday like usual, because I was playing in a game on Saturday. They were going to come to the game, but couldn't get childcare, so they had to stay home. Instead I invited the two of them to come with me to a teammate's party on Saturday night after the child was in bed.

Friday afternoon Aiden and I were chatting on the phone when the call dropped. I waited for him to get reception again and call me back, since he was driving, but he didn't. He was mysteriously off-grid for the rest of the night. He'd said something about Shelby being mad at him, and I figured he was spending quality time with her, trying to fix that.

I don't mind him being off-grid for a while, but I'd prefer to know in advance. I'd definitely like for it not to start with a hung-up call. And it must be nice to be Shelby, who gets his undivided attention when she's upset and occasionally shares him with me, whereas I get to be alone five days a week and with both of them the other two, maybe getting an hour or two of him alone every few weeks, and even when we get that, he'll answer his phone when she calls. In the middle of anything. I mean ANYTHING. Yeah, even that.

Saturday morning I gardened, then spun staff for a while, then went for a hike with my mom, then played the game. I played reasonably well and stayed out of the penalty box, the team I was playing for won, and nobody got hurt. My mom's housemate enjoyed her introduction to derby, and my wife showed up by surprise. Aiden texted me to ask if I was mad at him, but I was getting into game mode and there wasn't enough cell reception in the rink for an in-depth conversation, so I didn't answer.

The game took longer than expected due to some lengthy official time-outs, and by the time I got out, got home, and got showered, we would've been making it to my teammate's party half an hour before it ended. Feeling angry and antisocial anyway, I decided not to go. Aiden asked me what was wrong, and I, lying on my bed topless, struggled for words to explain it that wouldn't make me sound like a lunatic bitch. I was simultaneously chatting with Shelby, who asked if I was okay. I said yes and that I was just feeling antisocial.

I finally got out the words to Aiden, and almost immediately got a message from Shelby: "I can feel your nasty and I don't like it."

"What?" I said, mystified. "If you're trying to pick a fight with me, I'm not going to participate."

I did not say anything else to Shelby, but she continued to snipe at me. Trying to work it out with Aiden was hampered by the random shelling from the sidelines, and I finally said the three-way argument thing was ridiculous and I was going the fuck to sleep.

The next morning he asked how I was, and I said, "It depends - how many of you am I telling?"

"Just me."

We were back on good terms shortly thereafter, and then I heard from Shelby. It took us a lot more time and a lot more words to sort out what happened. We fight very differently, and neither of us understood what planet the other one was coming from. I felt like she had launched an unprovoked attack on me, and she felt like I was lying and keeping secrets and shutting her out. She prefers to scream it out when she's angry so everything gets said; I prefer to chill out and get over the anger before discussion of issues occurs. Her being mean to me made me want to hide in a corner, and my hiding in a corner made her want to provoke me until I came out swinging.

It's certainly positive that we understand these things about each other now, but I'm not sure how it's going to play out in future. I don't trust myself in a screaming match; I tend to lose my ability to speak, burst into tears, and then resort to physical violence. If there were enough size and strength difference between us to make that comical, it might be okay, but we are both big and strong, and a brawl would do serious damage to us both. I did suggest that the next time she wants to be mean to me, she call me something ridiculous, and I'll take it as a cue that I need to raise my level of communication. She suggested "Snuffleupagus - the Muppet elephant in the room." I approveed. We'll see if it works.

Clarity in Hindsight

After rereading our letters to each other again, I think I'm beginning to understand a little more of why it was that I swung back and forth between ignoring Aiden and speaking to him. We were both swinging in the wind, and he kept asking me for a commitment, and then giving me nothing to commit to. I didn't want to step out into the complete darkness and be lost. I knew he couldn't be there for me like he wanted to be, and just saying that you wish it were so doesn't make it that way.

He talked a lot about working things out with Lily, enough that I had a strong feeling that if I stepped out, he would turn away, and I'd be left alone. After all, it happened more than once that he turned me away to work things out with Lily. And then he came back. And then he turned me away again. And then he came back...I think I was just trying to pre-empt that final blow.

He's not entirely to blame, of course. We jerked each other around. I'm not saying that what I did was right, or trying to justify my being a bitch. There are clearly more mature ways to deal with uncertainty, and I like to think I've learned some things that would allow me to be better about that now. But, this is how we learn. By fucking up until we get it right.

Balance

The summer and fall of 2007 and the spring and summer of 2009 were times when, in slightly different ways, I lost my reason in a sea of feelings. Since 2009, I've been climbing out of that, and the last couple of years I've lost my feelings under the rock of reason.

Since overcorrection has always been a theme in my life, that's not super surprising. I'm sensing now that I'm beginning a of period of time in which I tried to find the balance between reason and feelings.

This is scary. I don't want to get lost in the feelings again. That's where bad things happen.

Headrush

I spent a lot of time freaking out about a lot of things when we were getting back together. Only a little bit of it showed, of course, but there were plenty of fish under the water. I didn't come the first few times we had sex; I hadn't expected to, and it didn't bother me. My body is a Rubik's cube. One night the two of them started asking me, "So what do we do to make you come? What do you need?" I froze, rolled up the carpet in my head, and went to sleep.

"You're not much of a talker, are you?" asked Shelby.

That will change with time, I told her in my head. What actually came out of my mouth was, "Not really."

Some days or weeks after that, he pounced on me at a funny angle and I found myself hanging off the edge of the bed from the hips on up, my chest facing the ceiling and my head near the floor. He pinned me down while I giggled and proceeded to lick my pussy. Shelby leaned over the top of me and grabbed my nipples, one between her fingers and one in her mouth. My laughter subsided and became moans as Aiden inserted his fingers in me.

My head swam as I hung upside-down, and my abs burned as I held myself in the air so I wouldn't hurt my back. The tension in my muscles started to translate into a building orgasmic sensation. Yes, that, don't stop. I couldn't get the words out, but Aiden didn't seem to need them. He kept working on my sensitive spots, his fingers and tongue pulling me toward the edge of the cliff. I was in disbelief as the orgasm finally rolled through me. I didn't think oral worked on me.

The giggles returned with new fuel as my head hit the floor and I lay upside-down in a daze. Eventually the headrush forced me to sit up again.

"Nice job," Shelby told me, grinning. "I'm not giving him the credit. That was all you."

Aiden just smirked at me, his face dripping.

Muckalee Creek Water

The "I Can Haz Feels" post wandered away from the point I was trying to make when it began. Reading all those old chats and things last night was like wading through an emotional swamp, and I came out stinky and dripping.

The thing that bothered me the most was pages and pages of Aiden trying to get my attention and me just ignoring him. For days on end. I can't explain now why I did that. Maybe I was objecting to his pushiness, or maybe I was lost in a fog of depression, or maybe I was mad at him for something. I know I wasn't busy; I was sleeping until lunch and bored all afternoon. And yet, when he would ask if we could meet the next day, I'd say only if I was awake in time.

That befuddles me. Why wouldn't I get up for that? All I had to do was wake up and drive 10 minutes. If only it were that easy now!

One of his messages even said that he would take the morning off from work to see me. We could've had the entire morning. And I didn't go. Would that I could reach back in time and slap past Skylar!

So it's really no wonder that after I spent an afternoon getting piss drunk and playing with razor blades, and then didn't answer him when he wanted to know if I was still alive the next morning, that he got a little annoyed. I was off working with Kevin the next morning, but I certainly could've found 30 seconds to clarify my status as "breathing."

But when his message train took the sudden turn from "please let me know you're alive" to "just tell me what the fuck you want," it was unfair of me to explode back on him for it. I told him that I was desperately in need of help and then threatened him when he offered to help; put myself in danger and wouldn't tell him if I had even survived; and then, when the stress finally showed through, I told him to go fuck himself.

I realize this is water under the bridge, but sometimes processing doesn't happen until a lot of time has passed. He's amazing and forgave me for everything, never even getting mad. The apology I didn't read until five years after the fact said that he blamed himself for lashing out at me when I was in an emotionally fragile state.

Would that I could reach back in time and slap past Skylar. Then again, she might've enjoyed it.

On Introversion

Why do I have these sudden attacks of needing to escape and go be alone? Because I'm an introvert. I love this infographic that explains the essential difference between introverts and extroverts: where we get our energy.

I can be loud and crazy and sociable, and that does not mean I'm an extrovert. I'm a high-energy, bouncy, enthusiastic person who goes home at the end of the day and finds peace in my personal bubble.

I consider myself a pretty high-tolerance introvert; that is, I can handle long periods of social interaction with lots of people before I reach the panic-button point. That point can be pushed out if I'm with people around whom I'm very comfortable, and it gets shorter if I'm in a stressful situation, since the battery drains faster.

Experimentation (life!) has shown that the lower limit, being in a new or uncomfortable situation with people who bug me, is a couple of hours, after which I will find some-excuse-any-excuse to walk away and hide in a corner. At my upper limit, in a place where I feel at home with people I like and trust, I can go several days before I start to get a little twitchy. Most daily situations occur somewhere between those two extremes.

I can tell when I'm approaching the end of my rope because suddenly everything becomes annoying. I get edgy and disgruntled, and little comments and actions that normally have no effect on me become enormously bothersome. When that feeling occurs, I pack myself off to a corner for everyone's sanity, and I think this is the point where an extrovert who's not super familiar with my patterns gets confused.

"What's wrong? Why are you leaving? Stay and hang out..."

No no. If I stay, I will bite your head off, and it will be over absolutely nothing. Then we'll have a pointless fight about which I will feel very badly after I've had some time to sleep it off.

So, was driving home in a blizzard when I had a safe couch to sleep on stupid? Mm, maybe. But I did it for a reason that was pretty good.

Toes in the Water

December and January we spent slowly dancing around and figuring out how we get along these days. I had had a brief relationship with a derby boy - let's call him Hawk - who was very good-looking but did not give one lonely, mountain-dwelling fuck about me, and I was feeling like I had no boundaries. The next time Aiden and I hung out after our second first kiss, we cuddled on the couch. That was it. And it was wonderful.

I came to the realization that 95% of my human contact for the last year had been hitting people on the track. Hello and goodbye hugs with friends were the remainder. Oh, and some nights in Hawk's bed, but I hit my opponents with more caring than I felt from him.

So just cuddling on the couch was amazing and exactly what I hadn't even known I wanted. I didn't miss cuddles until I had them, and then I couldn't get enough. I said not to take offense if I fell asleep there, and Aiden said, "Why would I take offense to you being so comfortable with me that you fall asleep in my arms?"

We talked and talked about nothing and everything, catching up on life, sorting out our past, and sharing whatever was up with our days. I started to feel like I had boundaries again. We live 65 miles apart now, so we'd see each other mostly on weekends. One night the three of us got our drunky pants on while watching a movie, and then Aiden said he wanted to take the two of us upstairs and make us cum our brains out.

We hadn't talked about that. I didn't know Shelby well, and my last experience with poly had me sleeping with a girl I didn't want to sleep with, and I swore I'd never do it again. I freaked out...

...but only in my head. What I actually did was to follow the two of them upstairs and lose my clothes. And freak out about it the entire time. Silently. Because why would I stand up for myself like an adult when I can just melt my brain instead? I have no boundaries.

Nearly five years after we first met and swept each other up in a whirlwind, I finally got to fuck Aiden. To say that I'd been waiting five years for that wouldn't be exactly accurate, since I spent a good chunk of that time pretending he was the scum of the earth. But there were at least many months' worth of pent-up energy.

I'm sure you remember Half an Hour and a Couch, in which I discovered just how big his cock was. Good god. My body did not know how to handle that. I took as much of a fucking as I could take, and finally had to tap out, bleeding and sore and exhausted. Shelby said she had sympathy pains watching me.

I spent the next few weeks mostly pretty thrilled, interspersed with random freakouts. I kept talking to Hawk because I felt like somehow it would keep me from getting in over my head with Aiden; like if he didn't have 100% of my attention, I wouldn't fall into something I couldn't get back out of. Nothing had actually gone on between me and Hawk for several months, and eventually he officially called it off for derby reasons.

There was one Friday night where my plan was to stop by on my way from somewhere, hang out for a bit, and then go home. Aiden's plan was to take my clothes off. I don't think either of us was clear on the other's image of the evening in advance, and there ended up being this stupid battle where he stole my pants in a wrestling match and ran away upstairs with them, and then I fought my way back into them and basically ran. I looked back at that night a few months later and had to laugh at myself.

There was another, similar night, either shortly before or after that one, when I spent the afternoon there and we had a blizzard. By dark, it was coming down like a shaken snow globe, and Aiden and Shelby both told me to spend the night. I said no, and we went back and forth. I didn't have my overnight bag; they had extra toothbrushes. I didn't have my asthma medication; Aiden had some I could use. I had 4-wheel drive and enjoyed driving in the snow; my tires were bald.

When the two of them went out back to smoke pot, I was done. My introvert battery needed a recharge (read: me-time) and I always leave gatherings when the drugs show up. I headed out, slid around a corner and then another one, immediately got lost, parked on a side street to GPS directions, and then nearly got stuck. This was all within half a mile of the house, leaving me 64.5 miles to home.

Aiden texted me and told me to come back. I forged ahead. It took me three hours, but I made it home. The next day I attempted to explain to Aiden what possessed my crazy snow-run, and he seemed puzzled. This explanation deserves its own post, next.

I Can Haz Feels?

I planned to go to bed early tonight to make up for getting only 3 hours of sleep last night. Now it's midnight (that's late, by the way), because I kept digging through my old accounts and finding more things to read. I let Aiden into the blog today and since he was home sick, he binge-read the whole thing like I did yesterday. We agreed it's addictive.

So I went chasing the high and read all the words I could find. That was unnecessary and depressing. I can't explain the way I acted toward him. One might argue that it doesn't matter now, but I always dig for the reasons behind my actions, thoughts, and feelings.

Feelings. I haven't had those in a while. Aiden makes me have feelings, and it's fucking disconcerting.

It's very different from how I had feelings for various exes. I used to measure devotion in how hard I thought I would panic if that person were removed from my life. But I've changed, and it's for the better; that model either resulted from or resulted in, or possibly both, a couple of unhealthy relationships into which I lost myself.

I don't know how to describe in words what Aiden does to my insides. All I can express is that he touches something with which I'm not entirely familiar. I alternately embrace it and fight it; I'm very proud of rebecoming the even-keeled rock who never flusters and never cries, and it's a big part of my identity that I don't want to change. But sometimes, I think, you have to allow a little slack downward to get a really great upward swing.

It's like the difference between taking anti-depressants and not taking them. Taking them pushed my existence into a tunnel - downward direction was limited, but upward was as well. I'm long off the drugs, and I can maintain myself in that sort of way; I have an iron grip on the downswings, with all sorts of control mechanisms in place to keep me turned away from the deep end. My standard daily variance exists between "chillin'" and "fuckin' awesome," with an occasional side dish of "mildly annoyed."

There's been a disturbance in the force lately. Not like "headed for a breakdown" level, by any means. No alarm bells, please. I'm just becoming more reactive to situations, specifically those that involve Aiden. We've actually had a couple of small fights over the last couple of months...and saying it that way, it sounds so normal that I almost feel stupid actually putting this much thought into it. But I don't really fight. Not anymore.

Or is the implied comparison in the "anymore" irrelevant? I might be comparing "Skylar in a relationship" to "Skylar single," and maybe they're just two totally different beasts that shouldn't be compared.

No, that's not reasonable. I'm me, no matter who's around. That doesn't change.

But it does. Apparently. The fuck.

Aiden

I did not speak to Aiden again after that last "go fuck yourself" message. He apologized, but I didn't even read the entire message, and then I stopped checking my accounts.

I started a long process of erasing all the good memories of him from my mind. It was a foundation of the new relationship with Kevin; if I didn't hate Aiden, it would've fallen apart, so hate him I did. Kevin spewed bile about him and I danced at the hate party.

Eighteen months later, I got a Facebook message from Aiden, saying that he was sorry for the hurt he had caused me, he was finally leaving his wife, and he hoped I was well. I freaked out and told Kevin, who called Aiden and threatened him with law enforcement if he ever contacted me again.

In July of 2012, three years after our falling-out, I ran into Aiden by chance at a farmstand in town. I knew he knew I was there only because he wouldn't look up from the floor. I took note of the fact that I had almost zero reaction to seeing him and that he was still as hot as ever, and then moved on with life. I wrote in my journal later that "I took it as a reminder of where I don't ever want to go back to."

In January of 2013 I left Kevin and couch-surfed until my new apartment opened up in February. In October of that year Kevin left the rest of my things - except for a choice few, about which I will refrain from ranting - out in his driveway, and I borrowed a truck from work and Eben's helping hands to get them home.

In the process of unpacking that followed, I uncovered my journal from 2009. Curious, I sat down on the floor, in the midst of the tornado of stuff, and read it beginning to end. Near the end, a piece of paper fell out; it was a letter from Aiden, the one that ended with “And while it will pain me deeply if you need to hate me I will understand it and I deserve it.”

Hate? No. I hadn’t hated him in a long time. I don’t hold grudges, and once my feet were off that fire, it had melted into oblivion.

I searched him up on Facebook and sent him a message that went something like, “Hi, hope this isn’t too startling out of the blue, but I thought you should know I don’t hate you. Hope you’re well.”

The next morning he responded. He was thrilled to hear from me. We spent several long messages catching up; getting through four years of not speaking requires a lot of characters.

We messaged every morning when I arrived at work, and met up for the first time a week or so later, at an open jam for circus prop spinners. Spinning and chatting was a good way to say hello without having to sit and stare at each other awkwardly. After the jam, we leaned against his car in the parking lot and talked, just like we used to do. He gave me a hug before he left and said, “It’s good to see you again.”

“Good to see you too.”

That meeting had one startling outcome: the attraction was gone. Completely. Like it had never existed at all. I was surprised, but not complaining; it would certainly make things easier if we could legitimately just be friends.

I didn’t hear from him again until five days later. I figured he was busy, but he started our next conversation with an apology for ignoring me. He said that he hadn’t told his girlfriend, Shelby, that I had cropped up in his life again until after we saw each other, and he had to make her feel safe. Already impatient with some unrelated drama in my life, I told him in no uncertain terms that if there was going to be drama and bullshit, I wasn’t going to hang around. He swore no drama and said I should meet Shelby.

A couple of weeks later, I stopped at their house on my way to an amateur night, met Shelby, and re-met little Aiden. We continued chatting every day, and it wasn’t long before we started slipping into a flirty pattern again. I saw it and backed the fuck off. The attraction was returning, but I learned a lesson last time, and I wasn’t about to earn the name of Homewrecker again.

One day we were discussing a friend of mine who was dabbling in BDSM and Aiden said, “You know what it looks like when I take the leash off the Dom side of me, don’t you? I think you quite enjoyed every minute of it.”

“But why on earth would you want to remind me of that,” I responded, as a memory from an afternoon in a car flooded my mind. He took it to mean, Don’t make me think about those awful memories. What I really meant was, Stop teasing me with something I can’t have!

He told me not long after that that we were exploring the boundaries of our new relationship to find out where they were. I said exploring is all well and good until you stumble over a cliff, and then you can’t undo what’s been done. He called me after work that day and said, “Sweetheart, I need you to know there are no cliffs here,” then informed me that he and Shelby have a polyamorous relationship and whatever his new relationship with me turned out to be, it wouldn’t be a problem.

I was skeptical. It sounded like too easy of a lie. Then I went to a friend’s birthday party one night in Aiden’s neighborhood, and he told me to crash on his couch afterward. When I showed up, we were all drunk, and they were seeing off friends. Shelby was getting friendly with the girl, and I watched Aiden as he watched her. Then I sat on the space heater – their furnace was under construction and it was December – while we settled into conversation. Shelby wandered through some poly topics, and I was finally convinced that she knew what was going on and was okay with my presence.

They went up to bed after making me a nest on the couch. Then Aiden came running back downstairs, ostensibly to check on laundry, but there wasn’t any of that. He hugged me good night, bit my neck, I bit back, and he grabbed my face, kissed me, and disappeared up to bed.

The next morning I had to be up early to go run a 5k. He made coffee and eggs, and we chatted and watched their chickens run around the back yard. When it was time for me to leave, we had another long hug, followed by neck-biting, followed by makeouts. I was trying not to grin like an idiot as I walked out the door.

Rebecoming

Skylar lives.

Five years later. Hello, if there's anyone out there to greet!

After those couple of incidents - the wandering-in-the-woods one and the drunkypants-with-razors one - I got on anti-depressants. I got back into school, rebuilt my relationship with Kevin, graduated with a Bachelors degree, and got a job as a technician in the public safety industry. Boring, but I learned a lot of valuable lessons about controlling my emotions and not falling off the deep end. I locked myself out of this blog to remove the temptation to ever go back to the darkest days of my life.

As I was starting life post-college, I discovered the sport of roller derby, and she more than anything else has saved my soul. I've poured my heart, soul, love, time, money, sweat, and tears onto the track. I'm in my third rostered season now, and I kick ass and get my ass kicked and constantly strive to improve. I do lots of other things in the name of cross-training, but they all come back to improving my derby.

In 2012, I got off the pills, and woke up to the realization that I'd been existing in a fog of apathy that I'd convinced myself was happiness. I finally kicked Kevin to the curb at the beginning of 2013 and legitimately moved out. It still took me a while to break that awful hold he had on me, but he's good and gone now. He finally left our shared job today, so I shouldn't have to see too much of him anymore. I got in my car after shift this afternoon and literally sang the Hallelujah Chorus at the top of my lungs. I hacked my way back into this account tonight after several previous failed attempts, reread every one of these posts, and shook my head over and over at how I could go back to Kevin after all the things he said and did. He really never changed. He's always been a codependent, over-emotional, childish manipulator.

As for the other major players in my stories...

Wren: I was Maid of Honor in her wedding to the Navy boy, and then she friend-dumped me. I tore out my heart in letters to her and cried for weeks, but she was determined that we no longer be friends, and we haven't spoken in over two years now.

Eben: Still one of my very dearest friends. When I moved, it was back to our college town, so he randomly drops in on me at home or work. He's introduced me to some new friends in the area, and we play board games or shoot each other with Airsoft guns, depending on the weather.

Rizz: Was diagnosed with leukemia in 2010 and died in 2011, leaving two small daughters with his ex-wife. We had a "mixed-anything" party in his memory, because that was what he always ordered at the bar when we played pool. "Just make me a mixed anything." He was a kind-hearted friend and quiet troublemaker and is dearly missed.

Aiden: Gets his own post, coming soon.