Wish you were here…

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And you could be (nearly) anyone at this particular moment.  My husband is watching TV downstairs and I’m in our bed dreaming of sex.

At the moment as well, thinking about the conundrum of Eric. I wouldn’t say he’s dumb as a post, but he kind of reminds me of one of those cute little dogs that can’t find the stick and spend their time sniffing around in the grass until they get distracted and start licking their paws. I mean, why, with someone that I have little in common with and I don’t really want to talk to, why is the sex so good?  My therapist says that there’s often something hidden in there when it works.  Gees, I hope not.  But I’d love it if he were here right now.

There was a night about a month ago that he just happened to be passing by when I texted him. We had our clothes off within a half an hour.  It was so silly, and so much fun, and I would like that so much tonight.

But I’m thinking about sex because the thoughts fill up the gaping hole that is the end of my relationship with my husband.  I’m just lonely.  I know the adage; if you want to be loved, you have to love yourself etc, etc.

But something is clear to me at least.  I am not someone who can cheat.  I can’t lie; it makes me ill.  And I don’t want to live without sex. So I’m stuck with the logical conclusion of those two facts.  And the hell with the future with my husband.  To hell with the years together that we’ve enjoyed.  It just sucks.  It hurts in all sorts of ways.  But there you have it.

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