Tag: relationships

Thoughts on Vacation

I’ve been in Minnesota ever since the 15th. I won’t be coming back to Texas until the 1st. In the midst of all the travel, the anxiety over little things like meeting my love’s family and friends, and fitting myself into his world, there is love and tenderness and beauty. A sweet, warming balance to be found in the tangle of multiplicity.

I’ve made it my mission this trip to spoil my sweet elskede as far as my Sir-given budget allows. To improve where I can, and create good memories where I cannot. To make quality time, and to just SPEND time. To replace the worn out, to offer the never-had, and make a gift of my presence. In return, he’s been spoiling me as well. Allowing me in, opening his space and his life to me, inviting me deeper into his world. It’s been an awakening of sorts, and a homecoming as well. Where love is, I am Home.

Today, though, after two days riot and ramble in Minneapolis and a week of workdays and one sweet weekend… my beloved boyfriend is having a rough day at work. He can’t come home early of course, and I can’t really go to him either. So all I can do is prepare the way with dinner and a clean space, and wait to soothe and appreciate him when he comes home, because this is where I am present right now.

Meanwhile, back in Texas, Sir is having a good day. We teased and flirted as we do, my beautiful, ever-loving Sadist, and He asked me to be ready to prepare something for a Cultural Potluck at His work when I return home again. I made some suggestions, He made His pick of them, and so we are decided. But, at this distance and for another week away… I want to do something special for Him as well. And so He responded with love and pride when I told Him I wanted to spoil Him with something new He’s been wanting. Received my offer with joy and pleasure, and still. And still, He told me to go ahead and spoil my boy first instead of waiting for Him to choose.

Sweetness and happiness in my presence, anticipation and joy to come in my absence.

For all its complications and the snarl of its existence, my life has expanded, not contracted. I am so, so terribly blessed to have these men in my life. To be offered such precious delight in my presence after so many months apart, and delight and pleasure in my service…. even at a distance.
For all I sometimes feel as though I am caught between two sides of a dual nature, today I find myself in harmony and balance, and it is beautiful.

Blessed, and Twice-Blessed, and healing from the wounds of my past. Time, care, compassion, dedication, and service make it so.
Where there is Love, there I am Home.

Blessed Solstice, my friends.

when my boyfriend eats healthy???? my heart???? esplodes into hearts and rainbows???? cuz I LOVE him???? AND OMG I WANNA SPEND YEARS TOGETHER???

hell yea you sweet doofy puppy of a guy, eat those greens n proteins~ put some extra years on your life so we can have even MOAR time together ❤ ❤ ❤

Men: Your Consent Matters Too

bone-and-brawn:

Fellas, listen.

You don’t have to do anything sexual that you’re not interested in. Moreover, you don’t have to explain why. “No” is a complete sentence.

Not interested in getting pegged? You don’t have to.
Monogamous and not into the idea of another partner? Okay.
Not sure about period sex? Cool.

And if your partner decides to question or mock your maturity or your masculinity or your sexuality because you say no? It’s time to re-evaluate the relationship. See if you don’t deserve better than that.

This skews weird to me, so let’s keep it going!

Not into getting fucked? You don’t have to.
Poly and not into the idea of being monogamous? You don’t have to.
Not sure about sucking dick, eating pussy, or oral in general? You don’t have to.
Not into whips and chains in the bedroom? You don’t have to.
Not into the overly sensual, missionary-only, candles and champagne stuff? You don’t have to.

You have kinks you want to explore with your partner? Ask them.
You have things you KNOW turn you on but you’re too afraid to admit to? Communicate; and get a different partner if you have to.

You don’t have to water yourself down, OR get into “the dark side” of sex for the sake of your partner. Find someone who appreciates and values you for who you are, not for what you can do for them. You’re a person; not just a body or a role.

A post about romantic relationships

tellthegirlsivefallen:

ughisthisit:

darlingjustbehuman:

helloelloh:

so I’ve been in a relationship for 5 years now. And I see a lot of posts about how people think relationships mean having butterflies forever, your heart beating faster when they walk into a room, about cuddling together every night, legs intertwined, that you’d be so happy to live together you’d sleep on a double bed with each other every night.

And its not really like that, at least not to me.

You stop getting the butterflies when you live together. Your heart no longer speeds up when you see them, but instead, everything calms down. When youre in the room with them, you feel calm, and secure. When you cuddle them you feel your heart beat slow, and the sound of their breathing carry you towards comfort. It doesnt feel like a roller coaster anymore, it feels like home.

You don’t sleep curled up with each other every night, legs twisted between theirs so tight its hard to tell where yours begin and theirs end.

Instead, you sleep comfortably, side by side, sometimes facing different directions. But every night, you find yourself scooting backwards on the bed so you bump into them. You snuggle against their arm, or stroke their hair as they fall asleep. There are nights when my boyfriend, in his sleep, reaches around me and pulls me to him, like a child with his teddybear, like I am his comfort.

 In the wee hours of the morning before the dawn breaks, when the world is blue and you see through cracked eyes, you curl into their chest and inhale their scent before drifting back to sleep. 

Kisses aren’t always romantic and firey anymore. But there are so much more of them now. There are cold kisses when you’re eating ice cream in the summer, and sticky kisses over breakfast pancakes. There’s “im leaving now” kisses, and “one more kiss before you go” kisses. There’s sleepy morning kisses before work, when you don’t remember the alarm going off but instead the press of their lips against yours is what brings you into the day.

There’s kisses before sleep, and, you are so sweet with the things you do kisses. There’s kisses because you treat animals so tenderly, and I’m so glad i’m with you and not someone else kisses. There’s quick kisses in the aisles of the grocery store, when its loud and you gravitate together, when instead of having your own personal space and their own personal space, its both of yours together, and you step into their chest to take up less area together. 

You don’t always text each other with confessions of love and care like you used to, because that’s a given now, and you’ve moved on to quirky inside jokes about the life youve built together. You share looks of exasperation and amusement in public, your own little world against the outside one. 

Relationships aren’t always a fairy tale. They’re not always fireworks and sparks, at least, after the start.

But they are a quiet rhythm and hum of love and care. It’s not a fire in your soul, but one in your hearth, keeping you warm and comfortable, comforting you as you drowsily drift into sleep.

And I love that.

This. This is so important.

Reading this made my morning. 

This. This is my entire life and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

@almightyalmighty Sometimes I still get the butterflies, and I love those moments. The rollercoaster coming back, the drop in my stomach before the dive- but most days, it’s the warm and comfortable assurance that You’re there. No matter what, You’re in my corner, fighting for us. It means everything that, after all this time, You’re here. Loving me, with all my faults and issues, all the bits and pieces that make up this weird, often-uncomfortable creature. 

I’m grateful, and I look forward to seeing where the next three years take us.

gladiatoroftheorists:

kyttiie:

“do you remember the first time you were called annoying? how your breath stopped short in your chest
the way the light drained from your eyes, though you knew your cheeks were ablaze the way your throat tightened as you tried to form an argument that got lost on your tongue.
your eyes never left the floor that day. you were 13. you’re 20 now, and i still see the light fade from your eyes when you talk about your interests for “too long,”
apologies littering every other sentence,
words trailing off a cliff you haven’t jumped from in 7 years. i could listen to you forever, though i know speaking for more than 3 uninterrupted minutes makes you anxious. all i want you to know is that you deserve to be heard
for 3 minutes
for 10 minutes
for 2 hours forever. there will be people who cannot handle your grace, your beauty, your wisdom, your heart;
mostly because they can’t handle their own. but you will never be
and have never been
“too much.””

— Tyler Ford 
(via alunit)

I remember

@gladiatoroftheorists you’re not annoying, my love.

Seeing your eyes light up, and the way your face gets animated; watching your hands move as you try to describe what you’re talking about to the guy who doesn’t know the first thing about it… it’s incredible. 

We don’t see the world the same way, a lot of the time we’ve got different views. But seeing you like that, it’s so good. I love the way your voice changes when you get excited about something, and I’d do anything to keep you from losing that excitement. 

Talk to me, baby. I want to listen.

polyamorysuggestions:

hot tip for poly relationships and the concept of “fairness” 

It’s usually more helpful to ask “Am I getting what I need?” rather than “Am I getting the same things as my partner’s other partner?” Not everyone has the same needs, and happiness is found more easily in having your needs met than in having the same things as the people around you. x

bairnsidhe:

trusmurff:

A Beauty and the Beast AU where Belle realizing she loves Beast isn’t at some dramatic climactic event but during some randome everyday moment. Like, she’s filing her nails and just kinda glances up at him and he’s like doing something just as dull and it just kinda dawns on her that she loves him but she doesn’t voice it cause she isn’t exactly ready to confront thoes emotions and what they mean so she goes back to filing her nails but then is starts raining glitter and Beast is defying gravity in a glowing ball of light and the castle is changing back and everyone becomes human again. Then everyone is left in silent moment of shock and confusion and Belle, being completely unaware of what it takes to break the curse, is just staring around in horror while everyone freshly humanized comes running into whatever room she and Beast were in (probably the library) expecting to see something other than human Beast in a heap on the ground and Belle across the room in a chair frozen in shock and confusion and everyone just kinda looks at each other for a couple of seconds not realy sure what to say cause nobody is entirely sure what happened other than the curse was broken. Then Beast finaly gets up and looks around and realizes what this means and looks at Belle and is just like “you love me?” And Belle is just like “wat?”

ALTERNATELY: Belle falls in love slowly.  As a result, Beast turns back into a human slowly.  She overhears him singing in the shower (it’s amazing how old pipes echo) and realizes it’s that song she was trying to teach herself on the piano (okay, that the piano was teaching her).  It’s sweet and mundane, and lovely.  Meanwhile, in the bathroom, Beast is humming nervously as he looks at the fur clogging the drain.  He thought at least he’d be free of male pattern balding since he’s cursed!  Later, Belle gets a cold, and Beast brings her soup and sandwiches, and she curses at him because how dare he have such a hearty immune system, and he chuckles and leaves it.  After he’s gone, she notices he cut the grilled cheese on the diagonal, crusts off, exactly right.  Beast, downstairs, trips and falls, because the sudden lack of toe-claws threw off his balance.

And so on and so forth, so slowly she doesn’t really see it, she just assumes her memories were colored by her fear.  Until one day, as he goes out to tend his roses, she yells “Bye, love you!” and when he comes back in, all excited, she nearly beans him with an encyclopedia, because “WHAT THE FUCK, WHO ARE YOU?” and Beast is just “You seriously didn’t notice me turning back into a human?  You are so smart… and SO DUMB, I BEEN NEARLY DYING EVERY TIME, WHY DO I LOVE YOU, YOU BEAUTIFUL DISASTER WOMAN!”

And Belle goes “…what?”

imjustbeingfriendly:

whyisthisfrenchguymasturbating:

sarahakele:

inkskinned:

writing-prompt-s:

Your wife changes her hair color every season and her personality adjusts slightly. You’re secretly only in love with Autumn wife. She just came home sporting her Winter color.

it’s my fault. it’s just that when we met it was autumn; her red-orange hair and crackling laughter. there’s a little spooky in her, a lot of play. and what a better time for falling?

i didn’t realize it for the first few years – something shifting, something so subtle. the winter makes us all cold, the summer makes us all a little out of our minds. i just loved her, because she was incredible, and i was the luckiest person alive.

it’s just that i realized that spring came with sudden bursts of cold. it’s just that summer frequently raged in with fire sprouting from her lips. it’s just that winter was the worst of all, her eyes dead. it’s just that autumn loves me different; throws herself into it without the clingy sweat of summer. i used to love that summer girl, you know? i loved how wild she was, the way in summer she took every risk she could. but i carried her home drunk one too many times, cleaned up one too many of the messes she made for no reason than to enjoy the sensation of burning. and winter was worse; the shutdown, the isolation. how she became distant, a blizzard, caught up in her own head, unable to tell me what was wrong and unable to think i actually wanted to listen.

she comes home, her hair bleached white. a dark smile on her lips. the shadowy parts of her are back. they loom like icicles overhead. she kisses me with her body held at a distance, a peck on my cheek that feels like an iceberg. she makes polite conversation and we go to bed early, our bodies untouching. 

it is a lonely season, i think on the ninth day of this. winter is cold. winter is known for the death of things. when i look at her, i see the girl i fell for, inhabited by an alien. she was the first women i loved so much i felt it would kill me. i can’t leave. when i wake her up with my crying, she tells me to shush and go back to sleep. she’s different like this, quiet, doesn’t eat. 

three days later i stare at myself in the mirror. i wonder if it’s me. if the fat on my body or something in my face or the wrinkles and she doesn’t love me. i try prettier lingerie, lean cuisine, i try different hair, more makeup, try harder. it doesn’t work. she looks at me the same; that empty gaze that neither loves nor condemns my actions. 

somewhere in februrary i lose it. we’re fighting again, from car to restaurant to car to home again. we fight about stupid things, small things; i tell her i feel she doesn’t love me, she says i’m not listening. the circle goes around and around, old pain peeling back, new pain unhealing. i sleep on the couch.

i wake up when i hear her crying, white hair around her all messed up. the kind of sobbing that only comes at two in the morning, heavy and thick and hurting. my winter girl. my heart is breaking. she looks up at me like i’m her anchor. “i’m sorry i’m like this,” she says. and i start saying, it’s okay i’m here we’re married, but she just shakes her head and says, “I know this isn’t the real me.”

i hold her cold hand. she stares at the blankets. “i am different in winter,” she whispers, “i know i am and i’m sorry.” she looks at me. “why do you think i dye my hair? cut it off? get rid of the old me?”

i tell her it’s okay. we’re together and it’s okay, and then she whispers, “i’m sorry you married four of me.”

we lay there like that, her head on my chest. she falls asleep. i stare at the ceiling, thinking of the way she sounded when she was crying. how i helped put her in that pain. how i promised in sickness and in health and everything in between.

the next day i spend at the library. there aren’t enough books on how to love someone with seasonal affective disorder so i make my own, notes and pages and little ideas on post-its. and i take a deep breath and make myself a promise.

she comes home to her favorite dinner and we kiss and she’s uneasy but that’s okay. the next day i bring home flowers and the next day she finds little love notes in her pockets. i love her quiet, the way winter demands, understand her sex drive is faltering; spend more time just cuddling. we drink wine and we kiss and some part of her starts relaxing. 

the truth is there is no loving someone out of their mental illness. the truth is that you can love someone in despite of it; love them loud enough to give them an excuse to believe they can make their way out of it.

and i learn. i remember the rebirth of spring, when she starts thawing. we kiss and have picnics in pretty dresses. i remember her joy at little birds and her rain dancing. i fall in love with the flowers in her cheeks and the little bursts of cleaning. i fall in love with summer’s slow walks and milkshakes and shouting to music playing too loud on the speakers. i fall in love with her dancing, with the sunfire energy. and when winter comes; i am ready. i remember that snow used to look pretty. i fall in love with the hearth of her, with the holiday, with the slow smile that spreads across her face so shyly. i fall in love with how she looks in boots and mittens and every day i find another reason to love her the way she deserves – they way i always should have.

she comes home with her white hair and dark smile and a package in her hands. i ask to see what it is and that small shy grin comes creeping out. it’s a sunlamp packed in with medication. she looks at me with those wide eyes and that beautiful winter blush. “i’m trying to get better,” she whispers, “i promise.”

recovery doesn’t look immediate. sometimes it isn’t neat. i can’t say we never fight or that we’re suddenly complete. but each day, that tiny girl’s strength gives me another reason. i love her. i love her while she tames the roller coaster of spring; i love her for reigning in the summer storms; i love her for taking her winter and trying to be warm. it is hard, because everything worth it is hard. she spreads out her autumn leaves; mixes the best parts of her into everything. learns to take winter’s silence for a moment before yelling in summer. learns to take autumn’s spice and give it to spring. we are both learning.

one day she comes home and her hair is different, but it’s a style i don’t know. i kiss it and tell her that she’s beautiful and the inside of me swells like a flood. i’m so glad that she’s mine. every part of her. the whole. i am the luckiest person on earth. and i always have been. but she’s hugging me and saying, “thank you for helping me,” and i can’t explain why i’m crying.

this is what love is; not always an emotion but rather your actions. the choices we make when we realize our lives would be empty if the other was absent. this is what love is: letting them grow, helping them find their way in out of the cold. this is what love is: sometimes it takes work to see how the thing you planted together actually grows.

this is what love looks like in an autumn girl: it is winter and she glows.

I’m actually sobbing jesus christ

my heart is aching??? this is gorgeous

Wow. Worth the read, don’t scroll.