I love it here! If you don’t like the weather, wait a few hours. It will change. I. Promise.
I feel like I used to have a lot to say here and, as time goes on, it seems like I have less and less to tell you about. There are weeks where I think there are a lot of things to share and there are weeks when even *I* bore myself… Blogs are supposed to have structure, and I have tried that, but do journals require the same kind of structure?
I’m not boring in real life. Really. But you can’t always put everything from real life into words.
I feel like my life is changing. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I think the parts that I want to share now are not necessarily the parts that you are waiting for me to write about (but I don’t want to start another blog. Been there, done that). I’m not entirely sure why I’m worried about it or even what I’m worried about… But now that I think of it, it has been a long time since I’ve written something sexy — and it isn’t because I haven’t been inspired, I just don’t feel the need to put it in words. Or maybe I can’t find the right words to use…
Recently I’ve been more focused on losing my pesky, squishy belly-fat and attempting to learn how to run outside (treadmill is a piece of cake). I’ve been counting calories and adding new exercises (lots of times unsuccessfully), adding new vitamins, trying desperately to add more protein to my diet (again, mostly unsuccessfully), dealing with peri-menopause, trying not to kill the roommate-husband (at least he stays out of my way — but still treats me like shit *sigh*). Basically, I’m lost in the the mi
dst of changing into a middle-aged woman!
It might be more
juicy interesting, but I don’t like talking about the husband here because I am trying to focus on the good things in my life. I am trying to look for things that uplift me; things that make me happy and bring me joy. Mr. Gloom-n-Doom is not (can you tell by the pseudonym?) one of those things. And it doesn’t matter anyway, he won’t exist in my world much longer; maybe another year. Tops… Then I will probably have plenty to share with you about his incompetence, rudeness and just plain ineptitude.
OR the Ongoing Adventures of Loverman and Mamacita will just get that much better!
Loverman is such a goofball! He is ALWAYS fooling around when we’re together and, in the end, he is the one calling me the silly one! We argue about it all the time, in the cute, get-a-room kind of way. But last night, even though he was still pretty sick, he was in rare form.
You will need to know this story from the past to understand my current story:
In case you don’t know or haven’t realized yet, Loverman is black. I am white. His last baby-momma was a white girl. And she was one crazy-ass bitch!
Disclaimer: I understand that I’ve only heard one side of this story, but I have met other people on both sides of his story and most of their stories matches up with Loverman’s.
Loverman has a thing for kind-of-chubby, almost-pretty girls (black and white, no preference).
One night he was out at a club with a friend (this is almost 12 years ago now) and he met this girl that seemed interested in him and she was his “type” — we will call her Kim. His friend also found a girl and they all ended up going back to Loverman’s place for their “happy endings”.
Loverman doesn’t like to wear condoms He likes the pull-out technique and, although that works for him and me (because my tubes are tied) that doesn’t actually work when the girl on top of you wants to get pregnant.
According to Loverman, he tried to grab her hips and bump her off (I am familiar with the procedure, he does that with me, but I know that he wants me to let him out so he can cum. I respect him and that’s what he wants, so that’s how we do it…) so they wouldn’t make a baby, but Kim “held on for dear life” and wouldn’t let him pull out.
Before the “ladies” left that night/morning, they exchanged phone numbers and info with the “gentlemen” and went wherever. Loverman’s girl called him about a month later telling him she had a good time and can they go out again? They dated for a couple of months before she told him, “I’m pregnant.”
He stayed with her. She moved into his house. He was planning on trying to make it work with her. They had the baby. It was a boy. He wanted to spend time with his son, so he kept trying to make things work with his baby-momma. Eventually, she started getting very extra friendly with Loverman’s older brother. Sometimes spending the entire night at Brother’s house. Loverman asked both Kim and his brother about it; both denied anything was happening. But it started happening more often.
Then, one day out of the blue, Kim called the police on Loverman. She told the police that he had beaten her up and thrown her down the stairs. They went to his job as a security guard for Cartier, and arrested him. He almost lost his job because of that incident. Loverman maintains that he never once laid a hand on her and he had no idea what the fuck was going on (for the record, I totally believe him). Of course, the cops didn’t believe a black man against a white woman and he was locked up for the weekend and was unable to get back to work Monday morning because his car had been impounded.
For the next 3 years, Loverman struggled to keep in contact with his son while his stupid-baby momma fought him the entire way. On top of everything, the family that was taking care of his “caramel” baby son were all racist. Eventually, Kim had a restraining order put on Loverman for his constant “abuse” and family services started garnishing $2,000/month from his minimum wage, security guard checks.
Two years ago (or three now, I can’t remember — he let me go to court with him for this a few times), the dumb bitch had Loverman’s parenting rights to his son terminated and she moved to Florida. Loverman still gets to pay the child support, but he never again has any rights to see his son. All because some crazy white bitch knew how to play the system.
There is more to this story that I haven’t told you. None of it’s really relevant to this plot, but most of it makes her look worse. Like: After she had Loverman arrested, she moved out of his house (good) and gave her son to the racists to raise while she got her own apartment and took a career for 1.5 years as a stripper (bad). The racists wouldn’t let Loverman see his son. Even on days he was supposed to see his son!
Two years after his son was born, and so many horrible things had happened, all of Loverman’s friends told him, “No more white girls!!” and, until me, Loverman was a good boy.
When I first started pursuing Loverman, he told me that: “My friends told me ‘no more white girls‘.”
And my response to him was, simply, “Well. You can tell your friends that I’m not white. I’m German!”
Now for the funny part:
Loverman sings to me all the time. I love it because he has a horrible singing voice and he always customizes the words of the song to fit situations. I am constantly entertained by that man and the singing just endears him more to me!!
Last night while we were at the skating rink, “Jammin’” by Bob Marley came on and Loverman started singing to me (of course!).
He belted out the first words of the song with Bob, “She’s German! She’s'a my German girl. She’s German. I hope you like German, too!” It was hysterical! I almost fell down from laughing so hard. He kept making up words about how I wanted to dance with Coconut and how Coconut is chocolate and wants to jam with Vanilla. And every time Bob sang, “we’re jammin’”, Loverman sang, “she’s German. she’s German, she’s German… I hope you like German, too.”
No one else there understood why I couldn’t stop laughing for the rest of the night!
…wasn’t very special.
Or maybe it was…
Every year, Loverman tells me that he’s not going to celebrate his birthday. He says that he’s going to drive off into the sunset and ignore everyone and everything for that full day. I think he says it because he likes watching me get all worked up about it. He knows that I really like celebrating his birthday with him.
I think there is only one time when we actually got to spend his actual birthday day together. Not that it really matters. No matter what, I always try to be the first one to wish him a happy day (I really try to be that person every day…). This year, I got him (us, really ) a two-night stay in Estes Park at the “Historic Crags Lodge” (I *heart* Groupon!).
However, that is not where we went last night. Last night was just a lovely stay up in Blackhawk at one of our favorite casinos (favorite = they send him free night coupons). We went to the bar where we usually hang out to see “our” bartender, but he wasn’t working. In fact, he hasn’t been working the last couple of times we were there. But that’s off-topic…
Last night was sweet and awesome. Loverman has been sick since last Friday and he was losing his voice, so I knew that there would be little-to-no chance of hanky panky. That was okay, though, it was his birthday celebration and he has always maintained that we don’t have to have sex every night we’re together.
For the record, I like having sex with him and we don’t get to do it very often. That’s why I want to do it so much when we are together!! This morning I explained to him that I like the extra-special closeness I feel when he’s inside of me. It’s like rolling out the red carpet. His response was, “More like the wet carpet!!!” He’s so silly…
I went into last night with no expectations of anything (except fun). For a while, during our drive up, he was a little ornery. But, he had just talked to one of his older brothers before he picked me up. Once he “settled down”, things went very nicely and after having a couple cocktails we were both ready to climb into bed and fall asleep together.
And that’s all we did…
…and it was perfect.