Saturday, February 28, 2009

on the day she was born I cried - Part 3

At 17, Maria thinks back on her childhood as a happy time. As if we were the perfect family of 4 with the big house in a nice neighborhood, a Mom who baked cookies, dancing lessons, family dog, loving grandparents and all. Although I tried to convince myself of this picture perfect life as long as I could, underneath it was a sham. I was a mother and nothing else. My husband was never happy. I felt like he didn't like us. I was lonely, especially when my husband was home. How sad is that??

And after 18 years of living in an emotionally vacant marriage, I called a spade a spade. I was the one who finally proclaimed it was over. We'd tried counselling 2 times then he said he didn't want to go anymore. I tried to plan a marriage retreat hoping it would inspire us to want to know each other, and start over, but he said it cost too much. It was $500.

I just couldn't do it anymore. I was getting depressed. It was finally Jeff's own sister who convinced me I needed to get out and find love. Life's too short she said. His sister and his mother both knew I was leaving him before he did. Anyone who's been there is probably not surprised by that statement because they know that communication ceases long before the marriage does.

The night I told Maria that her dad and I were separating, she cried the entire night until morning. Her devastation came as a bit of a surprise to me. Little did I know that I had just "ruined her life" and the heartache (as well as the joy) that would follow in the next 3 years.

Friday, February 27, 2009

on the day she was born I cried - Part 2

My baby grew into a junior dynamo (not to be confused with Dinamo). At 11 months Maria slept through the night for the very first time. I checked on her to make sure she hadn't died in her sleep (admit it, you've done that too.) I slowly started to enter the land of the living once again.

The baby who cried non-stop slowly transformed into a high maintenance toddler with a fierce temper. One thing I could be sure of is that my daughter would never be a pushover. (Always looking on the bright side.) Not that she was a bully (with anyone but her parents). She got on remarkably well with other little kids and we both enjoyed a weekly playgroup. She loved outings of any kind. In fact, she was usually quite happy until it was time to go home. She likes the story I told about her early trips to the park so much that she retells the tale to her friends with a genuine sense of pride.

The daily trip to "Maria's park" as it was called, was a ritual not to be missed. After playing on every piece of playground equipment 2 or 3 times, it was time to pop her back in the stroller and head home. Well, on more than one occasion, the news of our upcoming departure was met with some resistance. Picture a toddler wrapping her whole self around a tree, holding on with all her might. And picture her pitiful mother trying to pry her away from the tree, nails dug into the bark, yet very carefully peeling her away so as not to bruise her, while just DYING of embarrassment at my child's insolent display...Then seeing me, Embarrassed Mom of the Year, trying to bend my daughter's board-stiff body to fit into the stroller so that I can snap the goddamn belt and get this screaming kid home. Get the picture? Ain't too pretty, is it!?!

I ask myself, "How did she survive those early years?"

Face it, she needed lots of entertainment/stimulation. She was a very sociable kid, just above average intelligence and quite healthy, except for recurring bouts of the hives. But I won't get into that. They finally ended a couple years ago, and I fear they'll return if I talk about them. Let's just tiptoe outta that topic.

I mentioned Maria's temper. I'm not talking about the kid who is denied the candy in the checkout line. In fact, I can proudly say she never pulled that! (Can you see I'm beaming?) She saved her outbursts for the comforts of home. All her "finest" moments took place right in our house, mostly on her bedroom floor. I can't say I really remember what would trigger her tantrums. I think I've repressed it cuz it was all pretty traumatic for me (as well as her). However, I do recall on more than one occasion that I had to physically restrain Maria by sitting on top of her (keep in mind my doctor advised this). I had to do this God awful task until the screaming energy drained out of her wiry little body. Then she'd curl up to me, sobbing with a headache. Exhaustion. I don't know how many years those horrible times have aged me. And I couldn't imagine the terrifying storm inside of her. It's as if she was possessed. But I could not and would not abandon her. I wanted to help her through it somehow, and protect her.

Her dad had the same intentions, but he had no patience. Her anger triggered his own. He tried very hard, but he lost it at times. At the very least he became miserable and distant when she was acting up. (I have to say that in good times, Jeff was a wonderful father. He'd play with her for as long as she wanted, and he liked to take her places, which of course she loved! He changed diapers and fed her when he was around. In those ways he was an excellent father.)

However, he lost it with Maria several times from about age 2 to age 11. In moments of rage, he'd spank her incredibly hard, scream, sometimes swear at her. In the lowest moment of all I remember he dragged her out of the backseat of our car, having accused her of making her little sister Christie cry. He grabbed her by the arm and threw her down onto the pavement of a parking lot, and just screamed at her. I could have died. It was a horrible, horrible moment for our family.

That was the last time. I had told him afterwards that if he ever touched her like that again I would report him. And I told him that that act was abuse. He didn't agree with me, he didn't like hearing it, but he never touched her again.

And when I think back to what she experienced at his hands, and what she must have felt in those moments (terror? humiliation? helplessness?), I can't for the life of me understand why she is so protective of him now, and so hateful towards me.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

on the day she was born I cried - Part 1

Actually it was the day after, but that made a more compelling title for the post. I remember being overcome with sadness at the thought of her ever leaving me. I envisioned the day she moved out and I wept as I held her little pink body squirming to break free of its tightly wrapped swaddling.

For years I told that story and laughed at my maternal newbie foolishness. Some said it must have been a touch of post-partum depression. For me it felt more like a grief I could only know through experience. And of course logically that couldn't be so as she was my firstborn. In this lifetime anyway.

Pain is something I'd grow to recognize as a recurring theme in raising Maria. This baby could CRY. Even the nurses in the hospital raised an eyebrow at the fierceness of this 6 lb. 10 oz. bundle of........power. In fact, I later learned through my husband something they didn't dare tell me in the hospital. Maria had cried so hard at one point that she stopped breathing. I suppose they didn't want to scare me.

The first 9 months at home with her were a blur. Days were nights and nights became days as I fought for sleep and sanity. I loved this child with all my might but she did not seem to be loving life very much. The physical force of her incessant crying caused one of her ovaries to pop through a weakness in her intestinal wall. She'd given herself a hernia. The doctor taught us how to gently coax it back in, which worked, until it didn't.

It had been my turn to get out of the house. Jeff (now my ex) stayed with Maria while I went to a family wedding. I had to squeeze in my outing between breastfeedings. Just when I started to enjoy a half normal life at the reception there was a phone call from Jeff. He couldn't take Maria's crying anymore, plus her hernia wouldn't go back in.

I rushed home to relieve him. An hour later we were at the emergency room. Our 9 month old baby girl had to have surgery to save her ovary. Do you know what it's like to watch a nurse carry your baby girl through those double doors that lead to the land of stainless steel, masks, anaesthesia, and the unknown?

Her father and I sat in dead silence in the waiting room blindsided by the cold harshness of life.

Once we learned that all went well, Jeff went home and I slept on a cot beside her crib in the hospital. My poor baby. But I noticed one amazing thing. She.....was.....quiet.

The next day she was quiet too. And we thought perhaps the pain from the hernia had been the problem all along. It was on this day that I first got to watch more than 15 minutes of tv without having to attend to my baby's crying. I did the happy dance. I may have even had sex!

However, the following day the last of the anaesthesia from her surgery wore off. Testing times returned and I endured with the patience of a saint. I was a perfectionist in those days and I believe that is what gave me the determination and strength to succeed in being a good mom. I would not fail. I persisted 24/7 with little relief, and Maria took all of my energy. I was a stay-at-home mom at the time, but believe you me, there were many days I longed to be the one who got to leave the house from 9-5:00.

Family members sympathized. Only 2 people had the courage to babysit my little crying cupcake, so we didn't get out much. No one could quite understand why Maria was so unhappy. The crying was maddening at times. I said it then and I say it now: God gave her to me because anyone else would have killed her.

But was it going to kill me?

Sunday, February 22, 2009

I did it

I'd been waiting for the conversation to come up for weeks. I'd been thinking about doing it for months, but needed to test my feelings a while longer. Last night it finally happened.

It was last August when I had that painful conversation with Rob. I levelled with him about my need to explore more options, more relationships. I'd been separated about a year and a half and had only had 2 real relationships (Cam and him) since my split. My feelings for him had grown so strong that it scared me in a way. I felt inclined to back off a little and to test the relationship. Was I really seeing this straight? And although he was wonderful in so many ways, there were still a few characteristics I felt I wanted in a partner that he simply could not provide.

There was a 3rd issue that needed attention too. My previous relationship with Cam was still wreaking some havoc with my mind and emotions. I was unsettled with how that had ended and wasn't sure if that door was completely closed or not. Regardless, I knew I had to take care of that for once and for all. In fact, it was Rob who encouraged me to do whatever I needed to in order to come to terms with Cam. And I did, but that's another long story deserving of its own post (or 7).

Looking back, Rob and I had spent more quality time together than in any relationship before. Our history was rich and we'd been completely honest about everything right from the start. We had a very strong foundation that had started as a friendship and grown into a deep, romantic bond. The sex was mind-blowing to the point where we'd enter a new dimension once our bodies touched. It was bliss. The hours we spent talking and touching...we were in our own world.

But when we were apart, I'd get a gnawing feeling. Something was telling me that I had something more to experience outside this relationship. So we tried to break up in order for me to fulfill this need. I tried to spend more time alone at home, sleeping solo, not talking to Rob everyday (sometime for days), not seeing him. I think I could have handled it longer had he not stopped by one day when he saw me in my front yard as he was driving by. He stood in my driveway like a lost soul, tears in his eyes, saying I can't do this. I just had to see you.

And so our relationship evolved into "dating" each other with the understanding that we could also date others; however, we would be sexually exclusive. If either of us got involved with someone else and thought we might want to become intimate with that person, we agreed we'd have a new discussion.

And so we never had to have that discussion. The only other date I had was my time spent with Lee. See Part I and Part II of the Lee story. That experience left me feeling stronger about my bond with Rob. Rob is so real. He pretends nothing. He's not all that polished and glamorous and wordly. But when I'm alone with him he treats me like a goddess, he adores me and he knows exactly what to do to reach my heart. He's genuine. Rob is everything good.

Since my escapade with Lee there have been no other men. And I've not desired anyone. However my desire for Rob remained alive and kickin'. About every month or two the conversation would come up about the state of our relationship. Basically he wanted to know what I was thinking and feeling, and if I was ready to commit. That is what he wanted, but he would not ask for it. He understood I needed to arrive there completely on my own.

It's not that I didn't want to give him all my love, and my future, but I was afraid that someday I might change my mind again. If I committed, I wanted it to be my final decision. I needed to be sure that I'd not have to do that to him ever again. That's not who I wanted to be, nor could I bear the thought of dragging him through that pain again. So I declined the commitment time and time again and just kept on loving him.

Anyone who's followed my blog knows my feelings for Rob and that I've even been fantasizing about spending the rest of my life with him. What I've learned in the last few months--with my boss/friend's illness, my stressful work situation, challenges with my daughter Maria--is that Rob is a very healing person for me. He has stuck by me in times of personal crisis, when there was seemingly little in it for him. He allowed me the freedom to explore other relationships whereas any other guy would have said get lost and run the other way.

I believe that Rob loves me more than anyone else on this planet. Life is too short to putz around with superficial people or things. When you watch a friend suffer, almost die, you see life much more clearly. You realize that true love and companionship are so important. They're just about all that matters when it comes down to it.

Not a day goes by that I don't appreciate the love around me. Rob is love. He's never been anything else. I am the one who's been unsure of who I am and what I want. Until now. Now I know. I committed to Rob last night. I told him that I want him, and only him.

He did not jump for joy. In fact he made a joke about the gun law, which at first I didn't get. Then I realized it was about giving me 2 weeks to be sure I really wanted this. I told him I didn't need 2 weeks, that I'd been thinking about this for months.


His reaction was disappointing. I would have preferred him wrapping his arms around me and telling me how much he loves me. But I understand that from his point of view, he is a bit gun shy (sorry, the pun just fell into place there). It will take some time for him to trust and feel secure in this relationship again to the point that he and I can start talking about our future together.

Monday, February 16, 2009

newest celeb look-alike


American Idol Season 8 rising star Danny Gokey (above) is a dead-ringer for one of my favorite HOT HOT guys Robert Downey Jr. (right)

Whaddya think?!?!







Mmmmmmm...look what I found! RD Jr. in bed, ooooh baby.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

OMG in FLA

This is the coolest story from my trip to Florida. I couldn't wait to tell my family when I got home. I knew it would give them goosebumps.

Before Rob & I went to Florida together, I collected visitor's guides and did my usual research to familiarize myself with the area. I do this so that I can maximize our time and money while we're away, since we don't get away very often. This sure beats driving aimlessly looking for restaurants or hot spots to visit.

We were headed to Sanibel/Captiva Island on the last leg of our Florida trip. The island's guide that I ordered listed all the places to eat and described them, their menu, pricing etc. I came across a restaurant called Gramma Dot's. Well, they could have served pig's feet and tripe for all I cared, but I knew I had to go there. Dot was my grandma's name, and she had died only the year before.

Lucky for us, the restaurant served great seafood and just happened to be situated on one of the most exclusive yacht club's on Sanibel. It was beautiful there, and the day couldn't have been lovelier. See the pretty boat? (I am not a boat person, but she sure is purty!)

OK, so I'm all excited that I've found this treasure of a restaurant, and feeling all warm and fuzzy remembering Gram and how I was absolutely convinced that I was her favorite grandchild (of 6). She had a knack for making me feel special.

As we walk up the path to the restaurant we see this funny little figure sort of standing guard at the entrance. I remember thinking how neat that guy would look in my garden with his yellow rain gear and all.

We get a little closer and I stopped dead in my tracks. I don't know which came first, the goosebumps or the tears welling up in my eyes. I stand for a moment and stare. Rob stops too, wondering what has come over me...

There, painted onto the little figure's cap was his name, Capt. Gill.

Gil was my grandpa's name, Dot's husband of 60+ years. He'd died a few years before she did. He'd been the first close family member to die and we all missed him.

I couldn't believe my eyes. And I felt so blessed at the same time. I felt like they were saying hello to me from the great beyond.

I seriously considered snatching Capt. Gill, tossing him into the trunk of the rental car, and speeding off. However, I would have had to buy another plane ticket to get him all the way home.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

for love or money?

So I decided to spend the day with my older daughter Maria. Here it was a holiday, no work for me, and she had no school. I could have done something completely for myself, but I thought it would be a nice opportunity to spend some quality time with Maria. Our relationship has been challenging from the beginning, but especially in the last few years since her dad and I split. She blames me for everything that's wrong in her life, and in her dad's.

Maria was agreeable to spending the day together since I was planning on going to visit my mom, an hour's drive to a larger city, with better shopping. Did I mention that shopping is Maria's favorite pasttime? Maria said she wanted to check out a prom dress she'd seen online. Did I also mention that she does not have a job? After I made it clear that I had about $70 to contribute towards a dress, she seemed to understand that she may not be able to buy one today, but was still willing to go look. She did have some money of her own that she'd recently earned babysitting. Did I also mention that she still owes me $150 that she borrowed to buy Christmas presents?

Now, granted, I don't generally have money issues. But I sort of do, in that I am somewhat frugal. And I do believe that kids should not be handed money for everything they want or they will never be inspired to work or to value the things they do have. PLUS, I am now a single mom, completely responsible for ensuring that I have enough funds to provide the essentials for my children and myself. A prom dress at $300 does not fall into the essential category. However, to my daughter, it does.

OK, so we're at the store and she finds a dress that looks stunning on her (which is not difficult because she's simply beautiful). But the friggin thing is like $300. I realize it's a bit better quality than previous dresses she's worn. (Did I mention that she's been to every prom and every semi-formal and spring dance since she started high school 4 years ago, and has had to have a new dress for all but maybe 2 of them which she decided to borrow from a friend?) And yes, the dress is beautiful on her. I wanted her to have it.

But I had a budget. And she had some cash. So, I agree to hand over my cash and even a little more if she can get a commitment from her dad to cover the remainder. She assures me he will commit. But when she talks to him on her cell, he says sorry, I just don't have the money.

So who's the bad guy? Me, of course!

We leave the mall and go to my mom's where Maria proceeds to sit on the couch with her coat on, not saying a word. I'm thinking, she's acting like a 2 yr old. I thought we'd covered this whole situation before we left the house and here we are, she's trying to manipulate me into buying her that dress. And of course, now I'm pissed.

But I continue to chat with my mother who I see only once or twice a month. Everytime Mom leaves the room, Maria asks can we go now? And I say no. Well, a lovely visit that turned out to be.

Eventually we leave, and it's a long, quiet ride home. Maria won't talk to me. I know it's not really about the money. What she's angry about runs so much deeper than that--something we've talked about so many times but cannot solve because she is not ready to let go of her anger. But money is the easy excuse.

I am driving along feeling mad, sad, disappointed, cheated, exhausted and fearful this cycle will never end. I truly feel for her, what it must be like to be denied a beautiful dress, and to feel like she has no control over getting it. But her behavior is inexcusable. I want to tell her I WILL NOT BUY YOUR LOVE. I will not be treated like this. You're only nice when you want something from me. That's not how I raised you. And I am angry at you for playing this game.

There was no thank you when I dropped her off at her boyfriend's house. I went home and I cried.

Friday, February 6, 2009

$1,000,000 (or more)

Isn't it fun to think about what you'd do if you came into a ton of money all of a sudden? Last week, when I was feeling a bit depressed, I picked up a piece of paper and made a list of all the people I'd like to bless with "my new fortune".

My ailing boss was the first to come to mind, I thought I'd throw him $50,000 so he wouldn't have to worry about making mortgage payments while he's going through his chemo treatments, unable to work. I would hope there'd be some extra that he could send his son and grandson who live across the country. They've only been able to visit him once since the onset of his illness because they are struggling financially. I'd like my boss to be able to see the 2-yr. old grandson he so adores, to bring him pleasure while he's recovering.

CJ would also get $50,000. He used to be a teacher, and that's what he truly wants to return to. For the last few years he's been installing floors for his brother's business. Due to reasons beyond CJ's control, there is little work anymore and he's scraping. I'd like to ease the load for him so he can go back to school to regain his teacher's certification.

Believe it or not, I'd give my ex $50,000 too. Although he did a lot of things I did not like, he did a lot of things right too. And one of them was being a provider. So I think I'd honor him with a monetary gift. Also it may show him once and for all I'm not nickel and diming him and that I'm not the evil person he thinks I am. Or maybe it would be really funny if I gave him one nickel and one dime.

My girlfriend (former co-worker that I carpooled with daily until she got laid off) was also on my list. She plays the lottery religiously and always said she'd take care of me if she won a million. So I'd give her $50,000. I hope she wouldn't be disappointed.

Let's see...my daughters get a bigger chunk of my windfall. Maria would get an immediate $5,000 for clothes (should hold her over for a month) and a brand new (modest) car. I'd deposit $100,000 in a bank account for her, not to be touched for a time period. I don't believe in handing over loads of money to my children. I wouldn't want to rob them of the opportunity to learn how to earn it themselves, and the satisfaction and confidence to control one's own future that working brings.

Christie would get some cash up front too, but she doesn't really like shopping much. Too young to drive, so I'd throw $125,000 in a bank account for her.

My mom and sister would each get $50,000. I want my mom to be able to take that trip to the Amalfi Coast that she's been wanting for the last decade. My sister needs to get out of her marriage and needs some cash flow to go full force into her new business. How fun it is to ease peoples' lives. I LOVE THIS!!!!

Rob, my lover and best friend...I'd give him $100,000 as a token, but he really doesn't need much to live on. And since I plan to be with him on a permanent basis, we should share in my riches, my riches are his riches.

Let's see, is there any left? I'd like to have a pocket full of $100 bills to hand out randomly when the desire strikes me. I do like to shop, but seldom take the time to do so. Plus I'm pretty frugal and can talk myself out of a purchase without much effort. However, I think I'd shed that habit and indulge in a few trifles--clothes, shoes, entertainment, a sportscar, an everyday car, a few trips a year, a weekly massage and manicure/pedicure, new furniture, maybe even a new house.

But you know what? Thinking about the material things I could have for myself is not nearly as uplifting as imagining the reactions of everyone else I share my money with. I can see them, one by one, as I hand over the check, and they are so excited, so thankful, so relieved. I feel good.

What a great exercise that was.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

my friend CJ


I knew CJ from high school. We weren't close by any means, we were more like acquaintances. He (said he) always liked me and I thought he was a really nice guy, just not my type. Besides I was always in a relationship. After high school I didn't see him until our 20-yr high school reunion, at which time we made small talk and he walked me safely to my car. That was that.

Last year at this time he sent me a hello message through classmates.com. I was only listed there because I was hoping to find my best friend from childhood (a fruitless task, she's still awol). Anyway, CJ writes me and I wrote back. Long story short, he's still a nice guy. We've gotten together to hang out about once a month for the past year.

He has been separated for over 2 years. His wife lost interest in him and started another relationship. He has 2 daughters, 18 and 20, who are the center of his life. He has not even dated since his split. I'm not sure why. He had asked me if I was in a relationship and was disappointed when I said yes. However, we agreed to be buddies.

We've had some good times going to concerts, hiking, going out to eat, watching football games. I cook dinner for him sometimes and he really appreciates that. I'm just trying to remind him that life is good, since he's somewhat bitter about his marriage ending. I like talking to him about his family, his feelings towards them, and about his mother who died suddenly when he was only 18. I feel like I'm the only adult he can have a decent conversation with. I'm trying to keep him open and expressive. Maybe I want to help him heal.

What I really like about CJ is his joy of fatherhood and the importance he places on family. I must say that I really admire those qualities in a man. Yesterday he wrote me an email. Here's an excerpt that really touched me:
Yes I am enjoying my daughters' company. It is a good thing for my Soul, can not imagine my life without them.
That is just cool. CJ is a good man. I really wish he could find a partner. But perhaps it's not his time. I like being his friend and reminding him that he is worthy of having everything he desires in life.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

outta my gourd

I'm having one of those days where there are so many things I could and should be doing, but I don't feel like doing any of them. I'm bored. It feels dangerous.

Today's the first day in the last 6 that I actually feel good. I hadn't been sick for like 2 years until this past week when I got a massive headcold. Now that I'm out of that mess, I'm into another--BOREDOM.
Not much is holding my interest today even though it's finally warmer out, snow is melting and the sun's shining, and I'm feeling good again for God's sake! The kids are at their dad's and I'm listening to good tunes all by myself. No one to bug me or need anything from me. A wide open day and I don't know what the hell to do with it.

Two hours later: I've vacuumed the house, scraped ice off my driveway, fantasized about sex (while doing those things), looked through the cupboards, started a load of laundry and finally I realized what my problem is. In this last week I've forgotten who I am.

I've had very little chance to do something that makes me feel good about myself. No great work accomplishments (I could barely function), no profound moments as mother (that was also a struggle being sick), and no sex. Rob seemed a little scared of catching what I had, so he stayed away. Not that I was in the mood for sex anyway...and he called me a couple times a day asking if I needed anything, he brought me flowers on Friday night and visited (cautiously) for a couple hours. He was very sweet.

But when I finally spent some time with him yesterday afternoon, I felt like there was something standing between us. He was distracted, or he was treating me different. He didn't flirt with me, holy shit, that was it!!! Now that's something I've never seen from him. From the day I met him, he was a flirt. And yesterday he was not. I felt slighted. But we went some places together and by the time he dropped me off back at home I felt okay.

Last night I went to his house and we watched a movie till 10 or so, then went to bed. We got physical, and sex was very satisfying in a physical way, but I longed for the closeness of our hearts that we usually have prior to getting physical. I'm missing the intimacy. That's always been the magic ingredient that makes our sex so deeply moving and explosive.

This morning was better. We had our typical Sunday morning lying in bed touching, feeling each other's warmth, finding private spots to caress, lingering until we decide it's time to get out of bed while it's still light out. Then we chat over coffee, in separate chairs in his livingroom so that we actually talk instead of screw.
And it was there, from across the room, that he 'sparkled' at me, his beautiful blue eyes. He had been saying something about how he should move his new tv to the other wall and blah blah blah (?) whatever, I was undressing him, feeling his hot skin, smelling it, letting his love envelop me as I happily succumb to the moment..... Then he looks at me, smiles, and says Hey you, where'd you go?!, meanwhile knowing damn well where I went.

I just haven't had enough of him after that dry spell. I'm going back for more tonight. Superbowl or not. I'm going to lift his shirt and brush my face across his stomach, feel that smoothness and let my lips follow that soft fur trail leading downward. That warm smell I can't resist. Run my hands up his shirt across his softly sculpted chest, noticing whether his nipples are hard or not, finding my way around to his back and pulling myself tightly against him. I'll bury my face in his neck, take a couple gentle bites while I grind against him and then plant soft kisses all the way to his mouth. I want a long soft kiss. I want his total involvement. Throw me down on the couch, pin me down and have his way with me. Put his whole being into me.

That's not asking for much, right?