I cried last night, I cried hard. If you knew me, you would think, “So? Big deal, you ALWAYS cry.” And you wouldn’t be wrong. I do cry, a lot. I cried watching the Copa America when Brazil won. I cried when all the players started bringing their children onto the field and hugging them. I cried when the team hoisted the Copa and were cheering like madmen. So, yeah, I’m a cry baby. But those are usually slight eye-moistening events, not sobs and torrential tears. That’s how I cried last night.
Full disclosure, it was after a bottle of wine and a long day of just kind of feeling blah. I was sick a lot last month, and I felt a little twinge in my throat and was worried I am going to be sick again, so I skipped a writing meet-up and stayed on the couch. But then I was bored, so I drank wine. A lot of wine.
Also- last week, one of my dear blogging buddies asked me a question in a comment that has been floating around in my head ever since. “What will do you if your relationship with [your partner] Stefan dissolves?” (Eventually, I will write about this on www.elbyrnewriter.com I think, but I am not quite ready for that yet.) But having those thoughts stuck in my head didn’t help, especially when I am feeling blah, to begin with. (He and I actually had a more communicative than a typical week last week, so this week feels a bit barren in comparison. Again not helping.)
So there’s your setup. After watching a few movies, drinking my wine, and doing my nails, I decided it was time for bed. But the time for bed when I am in that kind of mood usually means, time to get naked, throw down my Cumpanion sex towel, grab one or two big ole toys, get in bed, grab the poppers, turn on the porn, and go to town. (Come on- you all have these nights too- you know you do!) YAY! A little self-love time is always right.
But instead of grabbing the bigger toys and getting some deep stimulation and making myself squirt, I was not in the right mindset for that, I just grabbed the Fun Factory bullet vibe. (I won it at a Smut Slam contest. I never would have gotten it for myself, I always thought I didn’t like vibrations at all. Turns out I do, hahaha, if they are more rumbly than high pitched. Who knew? This last few months when I have been staying with other people more often than not, having a small discreet FAST way to get off has been pretty awesome! – But I digress…)
So I grabbed the bullet and opened up my favorite porn links. (You have them too, don’t lie!) My usual go-to is fisting porn, more often than not lesbian fisting porn. If you have read my Sex Scientist posts you won’t be surprised by that. One of the main ways Stefan and I have sex is with fisting and anal. So fisting with anal play/fisting is not only something that will get me off every time but last night with all those thoughts of Stefan floating around in my head, it really made me think about him.
I finally put down the phone, took a super deep drag on the poppers, and thought about Stefan. Thought about the feeling when his hand first goes so deep that it hits steady resistance. The feeling of him working his fist and my body until I am ready to take him all the way inside me. I thought about his voice, his sexy laugh, his kisses, the way he curls up behind me, sweaty and hot and mumbles in German in my ear until I come back to myself.
(You know it just occurred to me, this could all also be heightened by the fact that for the first time since I left Berlin and Stefan, a man had his fist inside me this past weekend. Still, need to write about that! I will! As always it was intense, especially since it had been so long and yes, I cried a bit then too.)
When I finally came, (even without the squirting and the internal sensations I usually like to associate with these fantasies, they certainly help make it feel a bit more real) it was actually quite intense. I turned off the vibrator and splayed out on the bed. Before I could really think about it, I started to cry. Sobbing. Deep mourning welled up inside me. (I’m getting teary just writing about it now!) I rolled over onto my side and sobbed his name.
I don’t know about you, but when I have these moments, I have to let them run their course, or it will come out again later, only worse. I allowed the tears flow. I let myself be sad. I gave myself permission to miss my partner, my lover, my friend. It honestly didn’t last very long. But when I was done, I still wasn’t done missing him.
I went into my WhatsApp and pulled up the thread of texts from him going back almost a year. I listened to nearly every voice message we ever exchanged and read most of the texts in between. They made me laugh. They made me happy. They reminded me that our unique friendship has spanned almost 3 years, and has been full, beautiful, and very connected. It helped.
I still miss him. I still have no answers about what our relationship looks like in the future, if I ever go back to Berlin to stay. But the thing is, those are BIG IF’s. There is no plan, there is no way I can afford to live there again soon. I will be there in November for a few weeks. I don’t know what that looks like either. That one is a little more realistic, but after last night, I am calmer about just waiting to see what happens.
I know our relationship is real, and I know he misses me. I hope we can find a way to spend some time together. That is all I can do right now. I miss him. It made me cry. It’s ok. That happens in long-distance relationships. It would be strange, I think if it didn’t happen occasionally.