Jack and I just got back from our “romantic weekend getaway.” I am supposed to be writing test questions right now, but I am updating this blog instead. I’m a rebel that way.
I really wasn’t sure what to expect from this weekend. It was my idea to go away, but I am generally deeply suspicious of contrived “romance.” If you have to force it, is it even worth it? Misgivings aside, I figured it couldn’t hurt to have a change of scene for a weekend.
So, we went to a near-ish mountain town full of coffee shops, art galleries, gorgeous views and dirty hippies. We like coffee, art, views and hippies so that worked out for us.
We were rather wiped out on Friday after being delayed by traffic and an accident and some impressively heavy rain. So, we just had a late dinner and chilled in front of some food network. Shut up, we don’t have cable at home.
In the morning we had some nice cuddly morning sex. We haven’t had sex in quite awhile. Six weeks, maybe? So, it was nice. It was nice to actually feel like I wanted sex again. It was nice to be warm and naked and cuddly and turned on. And, it was nice to be comfortable enough to just say when I started to get sore and move on to other things like blow jobs and fingering.
It was lovely to have a late brunch and wonder around looking at shops and hippies and pretty fall mountain views. It was fun to look at art we both agreed was beautiful and brilliant and way, way out of our price range (like a year’s salary out of our price range), but gorgeous.
We accidentally stumbled into the most perfect bookstore/coffee shop/wine bar I have ever encountered. Floor to ceiling books! delicious espresso! dozens of wines by the glass! So, of course we had to drink champagne before dinner in the perfect bookstore.
It was even better to come back after dinner and have crazy fun sex with lots of biting, pining me to the bed, ass play and some really intense slapping. According to my entire chest today, it might have been way too much slapping and biting. I enjoyed it immensely at the time, but now I have bite mark on my right breast, four perfect finger print bruises on the left one and a bunch of angry red broken blood vessels on both.
I suppose lots of people wouldn’t consider bruises a sign of a successful weekend, but I do. When my sex drive fades, my interest in playing hard is the first thing to go, so I find it reassuring to be all marked up.
So, that was all good, but I am still trying to decide how I feel about the rest of the evening. After the sex, I was pretty much like, well, that was fun! What should we do now? And, Jack was like, lets cuddle and stroke one another and stare deeply into one another’s eyes. Which, I dunno, we’ve just never done that. Or, maybe we did years ago when we first met? I probably just passed right out after sex in college, though, since I basically never slept and was perpetually exhausted.
I do do the post sex cuddle thing with Farran, but that is often the only time we really get a chance to chat and catch up. I talk to Jack all the time, and we had a four hour drive and a full day of doing nothing but hanging out and sex and holding hands and chatting by that point. I like talking to Jack, that’s why I live with him, but after 30 straight hours of unmitigated togetherness I was feeling all chatted out.
Apparently, Jack was not feeling all chatted out though because he ended up chatting with Winter online. And, Winter was upset about something legitimately upsetting, so Jack ended up going downstairs to talk to her on the phone. I watched the food network.
I’m still working out how I feel about this. On the one hand, what do I care what he does while I watch Alton Brown? On the other hand, my god people, you have been separated for like five minutes. Take a break with all of the constant chatting all of the time.
And, the phone call. I don’t really like where that left me. Jack wanted to call Winter because she was upset about something that had happened to her that day. I don’t blame her for being upset, but the stuff she was upset about was not exactly time sensitive.
Of course, I know perfectly well that when you have worked yourself up about something, it doesn’t really fell like it can actually wait until tomorrow. And, it’s not like Jack and I were doing anything together really. Still it was supposed to be our weekend. But, if I said no. If I said that I didn’t want him to call her because I really wanted him to sit around and watch cable with me, I would feel like I was being petty and possessive.
I guess what I really think is that they should both know better. I just can’t personally imagine unloading on a friend or lover while they were supposed to be away on a romantic weekend.
Then again, I am really bad about talking to people about my mental angst. To the point where it is probably unhealthy. I like to seem like someone who has her shit together, and, so I just don’t talk about anything that feels raw. Ever.
I know that I have friends that would be happy to listen to me. But, I seem to prefer to just keep it all bottles up nice and tight until I explode in an unattractive and snot filled sob fest.
Obviously, this is a brilliant plan, which is a major reason I am trying to write about stuff like this on this blog. Writing to an anonymous audience or maybe just the ether seems easier that addmitting my weaknesses to real live people but bettter than just pretending they don’t exist.
So, that got really long and rambley. I’m sure this is not at all the recommended way to write a blog post. But, if anyone is actually reading this I would be happy to hear your opinion.