Life became a routine of going to work, handling my girls and figuring out what I was going to do with dreads. He made me nervous. I had created every scenario in my head of what it would be like to be with him, have his body naked next to mine, have him touch me. I had my own erotic 50 Shades of Grey going on in my head and some of the visions were more than I could handle. I did notice that things with dreads were really only good when we were either at work or in some type of sexual fantasy. Every time I would mention another hit that came from being the parent of my children he would disappear, lay low and then reappear when I got things under control. It was depressing to say the least being I was hoping he would be of more stability, but I was so inundated with groups and therapy and keeping the peace that all I could really muster up was what we were currently doing. I realize that a lot of my most memorable downfalls along with triumphs are centered around Holidays. We were back at Thanksgiving and my girls went to visit gingham. I was home alone. All. Alone. And I realized how much of my life had been doing what’s right, holding down the fort, keeping the peace. I couldn’t take it anymore and I needed to explode. I needed some kind of cosmic energy to transfer me to another world. That’s when there was a knock at my door. Now I get it, there’s always a call, a text or a knock at my door. I am legitimately surprised at how many surprises come my way being I hate surprises. Usually because they are never good. The door opened slowly and with trepidation dreads walked in, unannounced. He had a bottle of wine in his hand and merely said “I thought you could use this” Boy was he right. I poured two glasses and I could feel my insides begin to jump and skip as I was already four steps ahead of what was actually happening. We sipped wine, in front of a fire and although highly romantic, it was not the romance I was looking for. I wanted to be wanted. I wanted to be ravaged. I wanted to be transcended to another plain and I was giving him all the power to do so. I was like a blank canvas and he knew he was about to create a masterpiece. There is one place in my life I have always been insecure. One single solitary place that I am so much a novice, a beginner and that is in the bedroom. I felt inadequate. I felt immature and shy. I had my own body image issues, I had my own insecurities with being naked or comfortable in my own skin. I didn’t know how to release my inhabitation enough to always be putting on a show. I have always felt that when men see me, when men fall in love with me they see my outward appearance, they hear my crass, loud, outgoing nature and figure I will be some kind of vixen, dominatrix in the bedroom. Unfortunately for most of them this is really not the case. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve played the part. I’ve lived up to most, if not all, I hope, their dreams of taking my every day personality and placing it in the bedroom, but I’ve never actually let go. If that makes any sense. I do not believe that I have ever made love, how sad is that? I would not be making love with dreads, I would be a willing participant in using him and allowing him to do with me as he wished. I went into this with eyes wide open, knowing that honestly, down deep, I wanted a man to love me. All of me. To be passionate about my wants and needs, touch me in a way that meant more than just sex. That looked at me and saw that their pasts no longer had to hold them captive, that their present was more than they could have hoped for and that in me they saw their future. Love. Real. Love. Dreads was not real love, dreads was lust. With that understanding , I caught my breath and felt the rush of him come over me as he drew me in close. Pressing himself against me, using his hands to bring in the small of my back against him. He kissed me with vigor and as his lips touched mine I felt the electricity mount and every single cell inside me was instantly at attention awaiting their next command.
