Fool Me Once, Shame on You...Fool Me Twice..

Shame on me.

Trick me three times...I'm a fool.

And, I'm still here.

More the fool.

I keep holding onto this dream that I should have let go months and months ago. The first time he cheated, I should have said goodbye. The second time, I should have had him out that door.

Now...God, what else is there? It's too much to leave, it hurts too bad to stay. He was sick, so sick. A fever well over one hundred. His phone buzzed--he was expecting a work related text, and I didn't want to wake him unless it was important.

I checked it.

It wasn't work. But, when I clicked out of that text and all the recents came up--a girl's name. One I recognized from May. One that, when I'd asked him about her then, was assured didn't exist. I was stupid. I believed him. On a whim, I clicked into the thread. Texts upon texts, some as recent as two days ago. And not "hey how are ya" texts, either.

He says he's sorry.

I say I've heard it all before.

Some time ago, I was waiting on a table. They were discussing cheating and what the best thing to do when it occured was. The woman was all bluster. "Oh, buddy, I find out you cheated on me, I'm gone. Just like that. Gone, gone."

The man looked at her, dead in the eyes. Then, they slid over to mine. His stare was scary intense; my eyes dropped.

"She says that," he said quietly, sure as sunrise, "But I own her. Body. Heart. Mind. Soul. All of it. She's mine." When I glanced back up, her face had flushed, but she'd fallen silent. "And, think of this--everyone has a reason for all that they do. And, you think you want to leave? Imagine the next morning. And the one after that. When there's no one to hold you. No one to love you. When you're all alone. Was it worth not just sticking through it? No. If you stay, even once, he owns you. Sure as I own her. You belong to him. Don't forget it."

I stayed once. I love him. I hate him. I hate the insecurity of it. I hate that they have something that I don't. I can't keep his attention, and since I'm the one fool enough to stay, time after time, maybe that's what I deserve. I stayed twice.

I woke up this morning, spitting, cussing mad. I pushed him, I screamed, I cried. "We were doing so well! So much better! Why?"

There was quiet. He kept trying to touch me, to hold me...what kind of safe place is that? One that finds his comfort, his fun, someplace else. I finally caved, falling into the only place I know, that soft spot right between his arms. Fell into that familiar "dance" as Rogue calls it.

"Text me," I pleaded before I left for work. Too needy, too close to the floor. Too weak to stand on my own.

He did. To tell me he found the gun he wanted. That the pawn store puts it on lay away; that maybe the check after next we can get it. So confident I'll still be here.

Probably because I will be.

And, more than him, I hate myself for that.

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, three times....

Leave Work....At Work

My restaurant is a training store. Every manager anywhere close to my area comes to train through us. Some are fantastic and very popular with the staff. Some, not as well liked. And, then there are those that are universally loathed by the other managers, the servers, the hosts, the bartenders--everybody.

Many months ago, we had one; his name was Ry. He was definitely one of the latter. In addition to treating his employees like something the cat drug in--after it swam through a muddy river and rolled it in dog poo--he refused to go to bat for them at all. If there was mistake at a table, he pinned it firmly on the server's head. There was no discounts given, no excuses, no apologies.

He was rude to the guests and appalling to his servers.

Last night, he was transferred in to our store as a legitimate manager. I know of three servers who are not returning, simply because he's our manager now. I had thought that perhaps now, since he wasn't in training--he'd get off his little power trip, and maybe he'd be something I could deal with.

Last night alone, we had three hot run-ins. I said some things that were definitely NOT good ideas to throw up at your boss.

He  told me some incredibly rude, atrocious things also.

By the time that I left, I was smoking mad. Unfortunately, I carried that over into mine and Steven's trip to the grocery store. And, I carried all that disrespect home and dumped it right in his lap. I was angry--not so much at him, but more at my day in general--but there's no question that I took it out on him.

And, there's no question that he took his not-gonna-be-treated-that-way out on my backside. But, I fought him. Physically-I stood up, put my hand back, kicked up my feet. Verbally--I cussed him up one side and down the other, flatly told him no...

And mentally--I shut down.

For my trouble, I wound up with the worst kind of spanking. The kind that starts in the corner and ends OTK, not being allowed to say one word or so much as twitch like I'm going to protect my bottom or stop him from hitting right where he aims.

Afterwards, though, I can admit--I feel much quieter, in my heart and in my mind. I feel an easy sort of peace that, unfortunately, really only comes at the expense of my backside.

Hopefully, this will stay with me...long after I can sit comfortably again!

Update

Ok, so as ungrateful and blicky as my last post was--it shouldn't be hard to beat with positivity now.

Firstly, let me warn you guys--this could be a lengthy post...or, I could succumb to my body's demands to get my little butt back to bed. You see, I went in to work yesterday(I work at a hospital), and they immediately handed me a mask. "You sound awful. You can't go into patients' rooms until we're sure you don't have something. Like the flu. Cuz, geez, you look like you have it. EOH opens soon, and you need to go get swabbed."

I had only  a low-grade to non-existent fever, so I expected the test to come back negative. No such luck. I was sent home with orders not to come back until I was fever free for twenty-four hours.

Not happened yet.



But, that brings me  back around to the positivity. Steven read my last post. Naturally, he says, even though I was surprised. And, like seems to be the trend around here, it sparked meaningful, heart-felt, much-needed conversation.

Conversation that discussed his fears regarding marriage, my hang-ups and insecurities regarding NOT being married, and the simple base need for us both to feel wanted by the other. My constant push for more, more, more brought him to the conclusion that he wasn't enough, that he wasn't my "White Knight"...a by-product of my actions and complaints that I'd never considered. At one point, I made the comment,

"I feel, sometimes, like you don't have passion for me. Like, maybe you would be happier with someone different, someone who, at least figuratively 'sweeps you off your feet'. That you can't wait to be with, to sleep with, to see, to talk to."

There was a half beat of silence.

"Do you mean I'd be happier with someone else...or that YOU would?"

It was a turning point in our discussion for sure. At any rate, we talked about how to make each other feel more wanted, more desired, more cherished. I said that I was a total girl; I missed the romance of the early relationship, and that I didn't want to lose that spark that reminds us everyday just WHY we're with who we're with.

He said, he didn't want to hear that he wasn't enough.

Simple, huh? I felt horrible. No, those words never left my mouth, never flipped off my tongue, but the gist was clearly spelled out in my tears and my actions, and my bitter recriminations, both on here, and with him, when I discussed T and L. (The cousins, the one with the baby, and the one with the engagement ring, respectively.)

I've made myself a little vow to do everything in my power to keep him from feeling like that ever. Ever.

Since that chat, we've both been very affectionate--as affectionate as we can be, of course, with me feeling like I'm going to die from this flu bug. They even put me on a inhaler, for crying out loud! And, he's been phenomenal, quite the tender.


Which, speaking of, he's bringing breakfast, so I'm gonna wrap this up.

Basically, I don't regret posting what I did before.I think that this is my space to "let it all go". But, I'm so pleased that, in two short days, my opinion and mindset has changed so drastically.

With that being said--it's time to eat!

:)

The Ugly Inside

This post is going to seem super ungrateful, I think, especially since the last one was on Thanksgiving. I hate that, though, I really do, because I don't want to come across that way. I just need to spit some things out, and I think I'll feel much better, seeing all my thoughts in stark black and white. Maybe they'll make more sense that way.

It's strange how you can be having a great day, and one little thing can flip it all around, and send you spiraling into a thoughtful, moody sort of day instead. Today was a little like that.

Steven and I had a splendid afternoon together.  We already have our tree up, but we didn't have any outside Christmas decorations, and I really want my "tradition" to be going all out. I love Christmas, and since this is the first one that we've lived together for, I want to go ahead and get a jump-start on what I hope is tradition for many years to come. So, this morning, we loaded up together and picked out lights to decorate the front with. As we pulled into our driveway, our neighbors came outside and we introduced them to our newest addition: a beautiful little Yorkie puppy my Dad gave us. The five of us chatted for quite some time, and then my Dad came over to help Steven hang the lights.

I stayed inside, doing dishes, laundry, making tea, and the like. Steven did a lovely job--I can't say that Dad helped much, lol. He mostly comes over to chat, I think.

Anyway, when Steven left for work, Dad went home to check on his own dogs. He was supposed to come back and watch the Grinch with me. He didn't. Instead, I sat on the computer and looked up Christmas-y songs. I decided I might want to interpret one, so I was flipping through lyrics and such, until Facebook distracted me.

Once on there, I saw an old friend of mine's pictures. She was with a man; I pulled up  her page to Facebook stalk. They've only been in a relationship for a week, and I found myself snorting at the sheer number of pictures they had plastered everywhere. You'd think they'd been together for ages, all posts about "I'm blown away by your affection, beautiful" and sugary sweetness. She did look beautiful, thin and fit and happy.

And, a very ugly, jealousy emotion reared its head. I'm gaining weight, because I have some kind of allergy no one can fix that leaves me in hives after I work out. And, I want that perfect, cheery looking kind of relationship that comes at the first week of relationships, before there are any problems at all. Don't get me wrong, Steven is a wonderful man. He's so, so good to me. And, this is me being just a silly girl, but I want pictures and to flout our relationship. Really, and truthfully, I want to be married. That's the real thing. I've paid the "boyfriend" dues, I feel like. We've been together well over two years, and I so want the ring and the certificate and to feel like everything is right, and if we WANTED, we could have kids people would approve of. I want my family to not have to stumble over the words "daughter and son-in-law", because they feel like we're "practically married" anyway, but we're NOT. And I wish we were.

I have these two cousins; neither of them really have very steady jobs. One lives with an aunt of ours, nursing her new, beautiful baby boy--a child that has no daddy. At least not one that Mommy really knows who is. And the other? She snuck out in the middle of the night one night, leaving her ex-boyfriend living with her mother, to high-tail it to the other end of the US, and live with another computer boyfriend. Guess what. They're engaged. It's been less than a month.

I know that it's dumb to feel so super jealous about all of that, because both of them are doing something remarkably stupid. And, yet....I am. The one has asked me to be her maid of honor. Naturally, I said yes, and told her how thrilled I was for her.

But, I don't feel thrilled. I feel dark and ugly inside, and jealous, and wistful.

And, I know Steven. This is not something to bring up. He doesn't want to be married right now. And, it's not really a fair thing to fight about, because, seriously, who wants to marry someone they have to beg to pop the question?

I know he loves me. I know I'm just feeling morose. I know that it's about that time of month. I'm sure that's a contributing factor.

But, today?

Ew.

Thanksgiving Cheer!

I don't have long this morning--Steven and I have about a million different segments of our two families to visit today, and it seems like every dinner is about an hour apart. We'll be 1,000 lbs a piece by the time we finish this day!! :) Fortunately, everyone can cook. And I mean, COOK.

But, I wanted to pop on here super quick and tell everyone to have a very Merry Thanksgiving, and keeping in the spirit of things---

I am exceedingly thankful for my life, for my dogs, for my cat, for my man. For his patience, and for the strength shown these past few, rather tumultuous months. I am thankful for our little family, and for the fun and the laughs and the putting up our very first Christmas tree together last night.

Thankful that Steven is letting me keep one of my dad's little yorkie puppies--his name is Merlin Templar, and he comes home next week. :)

I am thankful that I finished making all of our stockings and never have to wield a glitter pen in that manner again--my goodness, what a mess!!

Super thankful that Steven does the cooking. (Remind me later, I'll tell you guys--our stove exploded this past Friday. It's been an eventful week, lol.)

I am thankful for all of you guys, my blogger friends, for your following and support and comments and all that comes with it! Thank you all for showing interest in our little corner of the world, and for opening yourselves up in your blogs and letting me share in yours.

Also---

I'm thankful for turkey. :) Good, dry white meat, with a side of broccoli casserole and mashed potatoes, with a pumpkin pie slice, no whipped cream, waiting for me at the end.

Merry Thanksgiving, guys, I'm off to the table!

LOL Day!!

Ahem. 

Dear Lurkers--

Once upon a time, 

Eh--around a year ago,

I was surfin' the net--

And oh my, oh oh!! 

What did I find

But a DD blog! 

The idea stunned me

Oh, shock, oh awe!

And, for hours I read,

A lump on a log. 

I cruised through Stormy's,

Then read Clint's blog,

Browsed Christina's, 

And Rogue's, and Bonnie's,

Onto Kay's and then

Found Blondie's! 

I read on and found

Clint's wife, Chelsea,

And, beyond, onto

My dear Jillian Bea. 

There were more,

So many I read--

I loved hearing about

What's inside their heads. 

Then, I started DD and 

My own blog, too...

But still didn't comment

On all the People's I knew. 

Though I'd read their lives,

I'd nothing to say,

Despite sharing their 

Laughs and all their bad days. 

Then Bonnie called out

To lurkers near and far

To speak up, speak out

And it wasn't that hard!

I chose a blog and

With tremblin' fingers

Posted hello, and for

A moment, I lingered. 

Then onto the button

It said, "Submit"

(Word's a tad 

Ironic, now, isn't it?)

But, anyway, 

That's not the point;

I hit it, and the author

Didn't disappoint...

Within a day,

They'd responded--

I had a new friend

We're now correspondents! 

So I said all that

Just to say

That today's your chance!

It's again LOL day! 

I've been there before,

I've lurked too--

But as a blog author,

I'd LOVE to hear from you. 

             Ok, so mostly I'm  just feeling goofy, but I'm serious about leaving me a comment!! Would LOVE to meet you guys and gals!! 

And, again thanks to Bonnie, for her sponsoring of Love Our Lurkers day. :) :)

The Scavenger Hunt

I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but Steven and I have decided, mutually, that we don't want to continue with sex before marriage. 

In theory, this was a grand plan. 

In reality, I have something to an addiction to sex with him. It's...just...shudderingly delicious, and I've really struggled with quitting. Now, Steven, he's done pretty well. In fact, it's been over a month since we've slept together. 

Our church life has dramatically increased. 

My quiet times have been splendid. 

For his tremendous efforts(successful, I might add) in telling me no, that we had chosen this and we weren't backing down, my respect for him has grown.

Unfortunately, the longer I do without, the more another factor increases:

My attitude. 

This means the frequency of spankings have soared, right through the top of the charts and up to the ceiling. 

He's started doing "timed" spankings also, so there's no breaks, no arguing, no NOTHING. 

He's also restarted maintenance. 

I'm sure all of you remember how I feel about the M word. 

*******Now, quick little sidenote: he's not spanked me one time that I haven't deserved. In fact, I took off and turned my phone off for a while the other night. I've certainly been no misjudged angel in all of this. 

However, as a second little additive here, can I just say his implement list has grown? 

He's added a hanger(Sort of...he broke it off till it's like a thick, plastic switch, really), a paint stick, the bath brush, the spoon, the belt, the hand....it's been rough on my poor, tender backside. 

SOoooooo, this morning, with the idea of maintenance looming ahead, I decided to dispose of the above listed items. 

Not permanently, of course. That would be like signing my own death warrant, right?

The bath brush took a nap underneath some old scrap-booking equipment at the top of our closet. 

The belt, I didn't dare touch. His pants have to stay up somehow, right?

And the hanger and the paint stick? I opened the window and carefully laid them, together, exactly where the window itself would cover it when closed. 

Perfect, Kypr, ever my inner imp, gloated as I shut the window. 

And, then, I went back out to have breakfast and watch Nikita. Great show, if you haven't seen it! It was an hour or more before he decided to dish out some M. 

And, when he went to grab the paint stick(the traditional M implement), lo and behold, it was gone! 

Eureka!! 

Next, he opened the drawer, searching for the bath brush or spoon. Both, gone! And the hanger. 

"Well, shoot, babe. Maybe just your hand then?" 

"Where are they, Grace?"

"I just don't know, dear. Crying shame they got lost, though." I shook my head sadly. 

Yeah...that worked SOO well for me, as I'm  sure you could guess. 

Instead, it was hand WARM-UP, then belt until I confessed. Trouble waaay over my head, that's for sure. 

I'll admit. That confession took some time. First, I informed him that they were all in the room with him. (Save for the spoon, but that's still...well, conveniently misplaced, I'm afraid. :P ) "But," I added, "If you can't even find them, do you really deserve to use them?"

Ahem. Yeah. Great move. 

After he found them, I still took a pretty thorough thrashing for the hiding. And the lying. 

I was nearing sniffles when that paint stick finished it's fourth set. Steven paused. 

"You planning on hiding anything from me?" 

Of course, that was a time for a definite no. 

"Alright then. Just maintenance left."

....I wish I was kidding. 

Lesson learned?

ONLY hide the things you REALLY hate. 

Boyfriends don't care for scavenger hunts.