Fixing things

We had to do something to recover from that stupid foursome with full swap sex.  We had to figure out how to reconnect, hold it together.  Oh, that's what he kept reminding me.

What happened there didn't matter.  We were still together.

Only the problem was that at the moment, I could see our future.  I could see the downward spiral.  I knew that if we couldn't find our way through this, the distance would grow.  I could see where I wouldn't want him to touch me any more because every time he did, I could see her riding him.  I could see him reaching up to grab her boobs.  I could see the look on his face.  I could see her pulling the condom off him and sucking on him until he came.  And even though she didn't swallow, their rule, I felt completely destroyed over it.

And I had to find a way through it.  I had to find a way past it.  If not, we were doomed.

That's why we talked.  We talked even after we said we weren't going to discuss it any more.  And he did what I needed him to do.  He thought about it without me even saying what I wanted so desperately to say.  I was afraid of admitting to him how much the experience hurt me because I didn't want to hurt him.  Funny, huh?  I wanted to protect him from the hurt he inflicted on me.

I came home from work and he explained that he had thought it through.  He had turned to her and been into her because watching me with the husband was too painful.  Watching him in me, seeing me closing off, hurt him.  He wanted to stop, but he didn't know how and he didn't know what to do.  And it was his coping mechanism.  It was a lousy coping mechanism.

Then he told me how important it was to him that I have a good experience.  He needed for me to be with a girl so that I could get the full experience.  He wanted me to see what I had missed out on.  And so he wanted me to find a woman to be with.  He wouldn't be involved.  He'd like to watch.  And in a perfect situation, he'd like to be with me.

So, I turned to my fickle friend: Craig.  I placed another ad.

Lesson #5: Always keep your word

So he took me home to make me forget.  We went straight through the front door to the bedroom, locking up for the night along the way.  He undressed quickly.  In undressed even quicker.

man: Let's put on a porn.

me: No.  Just me.  Only me tonight.  I need it to be just me.

Soon we were going at it.  He gave me the top.  He licked and sucked on my boobs.  He ate me out.  He did everything he should have done with me and been doing to me.  He was loving and passionate and perfect.

And every time I asked, he told me.

me: Tell me what I need to hear.

man: I love you.

He proved it.  Again and again.

We fell asleep naked together.  We woke in the middle of the night to go at it again.  Our appetites were insatiable.  And as along as I was near him, I felt better.

Only...I had to go to work. And he was nowhere near me.  Nope.  Not even close.  And not for a whole lot of hours.

By the time I returned home, I was wrecked.  I needed more reassurance.  And I hate feeling needy.

Why did he have to get so into her?  Why did he have to forget all about me?  Why couldn't he have rescued me sooner?

It was torture.

On the road to recovery: the beginning

So, I posed the question, wondering what it would take for us to be better.  And even while I was thinking out loud, I knew.  I needed the closeness back.  You can't get any closer than sharing your body with someone. 

He asked me to help him create a To Do list the other night.  He hates forgetting anything that he has to do.  And I gladly obliged.  I like feeling useful.  The list was rather mundane.  Call this person.  Follow up on that.  Go here.  Do that.  And finally, I added an item of my own.  I couldn't wait for him to read it.

My item:  Come home and make mad passionate love to Lexi.

Seemed like a good idea at the time.  Only we didn't really see each other until 8pm the other night.  And we both had to work in the morning.  And he admitted that, although he had seen it, it probably wouldn't happen.  So, I covered my disappointment as best I could.

me: That's okay.  Just holding me will be enough.

And I mostly meant it.

We drank a little and hung out in the man cave while he gathered together the tools of his trade for the next day.  I was staring at the pool table.  I remembered when he bought it.  We were dating, but not living together.  We had spent an afternoon shopping for it.  And then he called me when the salesman called to let him know we could have a different color of felt if we wanted.

I was surprised when he asked what I wanted.  Only, whether he realizes it or not, he's been including me in on all the big decisions of his life for as long as he's known me.  And we agreed on a color for the felt, just like we agreed that we needed to break the pool table in together.

The first night that he had it, after the guys had gone home after playing on it, we closed the garage door and got down and dirty.  By the time we were done, if you looked closely, you could see boob prints and butt prints and hand prints all over the felt.  It was awesome.  It made me laugh every time I saw it.  Because no matter how diligently he brushed it, our impressions lingered in the felt, just as we have a way of lingering on each other.

I asked a question. 

me: Truth.

man: Oh, not that game.

me: Nope.  Just truth.

He sighed in worry.

man: What?

me: Have you ever done anyone else on this table?  I just need to know if I have to pay to have the felt changed RIGHT NOW.

We've had our ups and downs.  He has been with others when we were on breaks.  I had, too.

man: No.  Never.

I smiled.  That was something.  It was a start.