It’s been a long time since I rock’n’rolled

I’m up to my eyeballs in technical writing and hearing the plasticky sound of my thumb hitting the spacebar once more might send me mad, but I felt like checking in and thinking about things other than executive summaries and customers’ hot buttons (no, not those kinds). It feels like bumping into a long-lost friend and there’s so much to catch up on but words are trapped by awkward silence while trying to compress life into a few conversation points. At least I can write a few paragraphs and log off until inspiration hits again, unlike real life where phone numbers are exchanged and promises of keeping in touch are made but never seen to eventuate.

So, the Country Boy story continues. We hit the old roadblock of one of us wanting a bit more and one of us being content with a bit less so we wandered apart again. In the weeks afterwards, I spent about 10 minutes on the online meeting site over Christmas and decided to give up the life for a while and concentrate on other things (retrenchment in a shrinking job market has to be one of the most effective ways of killing a person’s sex drive). And the frustration of theoretically having lots of time on my hands to misbehave but spending most of that time fretting about my future wasn’t good for anyone around me. I’m also hitting that stage of life where maturing has evolved into ageing; it’s like someone has put detergent on the slide into menopause and I’m careening down the slippery ramp a bit faster than I want to acknowledge.

But even with that cocktail of self imposed and forced drama and stagnation, the Country Boy returned and helped me decide that a bit of something great was better than a lot of nothing at all. We reunited at the park in a state of heady anticipation while summer’s sun refused to grant us the darkness we needed to sort things out. I think I ended up facing the passenger seat of the car with him behind me, but perhaps I was on my back and he was skimming the sunroof from on top, who knows. He also did a few home visits to help with some work on the house related to his trade and hung around afterwards for ‘payment’ of the kind where he wouldn’t accept money. We joyfully bartered physical acts in exchange for holes drilled in the wall and joinery components in little bags … Oh, that twenty-cent bracket must be worth riding you against the bed head until you explode, surely?

Then the work finished and he disappeared. Neither of us has ever disappeared without communication and I wondered if he’d changed his mind or something personal had come up. I sent a couple of text messages but never heard back so I let him go again and got on with less interesting priorities. A couple of months passed and one night The Drummer brought in a crumpled scrap of paper that was addressed to me. The Country Boy had lost his phone and didn’t know how to get in touch so he left a note on the door step. It worked when re-establishing contact with his mates and he thought it might work for me as well. Unconventional but effective. I sent him a message and we sorted ourselves out yet again — the sorting out in the back of a delivery van was particularly productive and I’ll have to tell that story another time.

On the work front, I have been picking up some contracts as well as setting up my own business. The lumps of money and positive feedback from contracting have been good but now I’m enjoying the opposite problem of earlier in the year in being too busy and feeling rundown. My goal is to manage more of the work and do less myself and I am spending frenzied bursts of time on freelancer web sites imagining the promise of virtual help. It’s kind of like online dating though where many profiles are full of falsities and contradictions that make me close the screen and walk away. But, like with online dating, I’m sure the answer will come when I’m about to give up.

Talk soon.


The tables have turned

The Drummer received a message on a meeting site where he has an inactive account. A local woman who wasn’t responsive towards his profile last year had a change of heart and got in touch with him.

You know when someone has gone out for a quick introduction and hasn’t returned hours later that something enjoyable might be happening? Yep, he got lucky.

He backed up with another visit to see her the same weekend; I was supportive and delighted that he’d met someone but felt slightly apprehensive that so much was happening in a short time. Was she a psycho hose beast? Clingy? Or just plain content and wanting seconds?

She is about 10 years younger than him, recovering from a painful relationship break-up and looking to sample the delights she finds in the online world. She seems to be in a mindset similar to mine of a few years ago where new experiences were to be had for the having, regardless if they turn out positively or more as lessons in life. She has another man or two on the go which has tempered my reservations that she might be a psycho hose beast.

I laughed wildly when he returned after the second meeting and said it took a long time driving around to find somewhere private in the great outdoors. Like in the last post, shit, I understand the frustration of public spaces being used by the public for their intended purposes rather than smut. She has a house nearby but it wasn’t available so they needed to furtively scratch about for an alternate venue.

A few days later I was at work when she visited The Drummer at home. My first thought wasn’t about someone entering my territory but rather if the house was clean and did he remember to leave a towel out in case she wanted to shower? I guess that means I’m comfortable with our new arrangement to use the house even if it isn’t to my direct advantage just yet.

Everything’s changed but nothing’s happening

I haven’t written for some time because I haven’t been active or looking for activity. Things have changed on the home front though.

One night I was at home, doing something relaxing like reading a book, and The Drummer said he had something serious to discuss with me. I couldn’t tell from his body language if serious meant a jocular discussion about a lack of chocolate in the house or a truly serious issue. I turned my attention to him and hoped we were running low on chocolate.

He said he’d been reading some old posts on my blog and wasn’t aware I’d once invited Mr OMG into our house. I experienced a moment of wonder that two people could have an important conversation after which one has no memory while the other has down-to-the-sentence recollection. I explained that I once had his blessing to invite Mr OMG, however, he wasn’t comfortable with the arrangement afterwards and I returned to my nocturnal life in car parks. Shit, I don’t dodge sporting teams and others looking for mischief at the park because it’s invigorating and good for addressing my lack of patience.

We talked further and he said he was fine if I invited someone over. I’m glad for the additional – and comfortable – venue but I had to laugh that I now have all the facilities I need when I am at the tail end of my adventurous period.

The unexpected conclusion to this post is that he utilised our (reciprocal) offer first.

Hello, I’m still here.

I haven’t had much to say and there’s only so many ways to describe car sex without becoming repetitive. There hasn’t been much sex anyway as I was sick and now the Country Boy is ill; with luck there will be some action in the week once I’m over another illness, and my period and whatever else gets out of the way.

I’m not settling into my new job as quickly as I had anticipated (this is my third job since starting the blog so I really need to stick with this one). My manager won’t spend time to get me up to speed while the culture is to spend as many hours in the office as possible. I’m spending too much time bored as fuck and not enough being productive, which is the reverse of what I’m about when people give me money in exchange for my daytime hours. The upside is that I’m waiting for my overseas training schedule so there could be some travel to the northern hemisphere in the next few months.

The Drummer almost met a woman but she became flaky before the meeting stage and didn’t contact him until the morning of a proposed meeting. But, in a late-breaking update, they have arranged to meet for a drink tomorrow so I hope they get along well.

The Drummer and I have been making some attempts to be more physical with each other and I’ve been reminded how well he knows me orally in the most spectacular way. On one occasion I laid around in bed for a while before getting in the shower and saw a concerning amount of flaking skin on my breasts. It took a few moments of worrying about allergies or a disease to remember he had come on my breasts and I’d left the fluid to dry. Next time I’ll shower quickly and save myself some unnecessary shrieking.

Apart from that, NZ has been in touch but he has been sick as well. His last text also asked about not using a condom if we meet and I really don’t know what to say to that. I appreciate his trust, but I’d rather keep myself clean (mentally, so I don’t have to think about where I’ve been). I’m still in touch with Jekyll but we haven’t met yet as our schedules haven’t matched. I think we’ll say hello in the next fortnight and see what happens from there.

I’ll be back when something happens.


I’ve been living my sexual life quietly in the period I’ve been absent from the blog – if memory (depressingly) serves me correctly, I haven’t had sex this year.

The Drummer’s libido has been increasing and he’s discussed that he’s here and available when I’m ready again. While we aren’t physical with each other at the moment, we’re close in other ways and I’m confident we’ll sort out an accommodating medium in our sex drives and interests at some stage. It’s hard to admit defeat at times that we just aren’t a match sexually, much as we try until he’s anxious about me not enjoying myself, and I feel guilty that I reach the point of discomfort and sometimes pain before stopping things if his orgasm is elusive. The oddity of our situation is that we’re struggling to find others to misbehave with when we could be having sex with each other, however, the lure of new experiences and desire to experiment with others can never be underestimated. And he’s just not into being cuffed and spanked and those little urges pop into my mind on a regular basis :-).

I met someone and here is my confession that I have turned away an attractive, bisexual man in an open relationship. Maybe I should be spanking some sanity into myself. He lives near the city and beyond my geographical boundaries but we got on well and met within a week of first making contact. He is the stereotypical tall, skinny, spectacle-wearing computer programmer type who doesn’t go for whatever demographic I fit in (rapidly-ageing, slightly alternative crazy cat lady) but we liked each other and spent an afternoon having lunch and wandering the local beach. We both had attacks of shyness at the end but kissed goodbye a few times before parting and promising to catch up in the near future.

Fast-forward six weeks and we still haven’t caught up. He had plans, he got sick, I got my period, he — I don’t know as I can’t remember, I think he left my last invitation unanswered for a couple of days so I made other plans. I ended up saying it was easier to give up before we start and he sounded disappointed but accepting. I’m not one for back-tracking and I’m also not one for being able to keep irregular liaisons going so I’m going to reluctantly leave him be.

I met someone else the other night who was a leftover from my last campaign. I sent him away for crimes against grammar* and for telling tales that he’s had fewer than a handful of sexual partners (he’s in his early thirties and I was in the jaded final days of being online so everything I read seemed to be gold-coated bullshit).

He kept returning, like a cute puppy that keeps jumping up your leg for attention when you’re telling it go away but really smiling on the inside. While his written expression hasn’t improved, I ended up agreeing to meet him as I picked up a few hints of guilelessness and honesty that piqued my curiosity. He’s lovely, he’s more articulate in person than anticipated, he’s as honest and unsullied as he said and, oh, he’s just re-uniting with his girlfriend but doesn’t think it will work out so he is in a fragile emotional state and not sure what he wants.

I don’t think he’s acting out of malice in meeting women (his on-again girlfriend didn’t receive the marriage proposal she set a deadline on, and publicly and promptly took up with his mate for six months) but I don’t think he’s going to be stable enough to corrupt, as much as I’d like to. He’s never had sex in a car and I doubt he’s ever had a tongue in his arse – is there anyone more qualified than me to give him some new experiences? I think not. And what if he’s never been spanked? However, if I can get myself back on topic, I believe he should sort out his personal situation before seeking new adventures and not the other way around.

We parted amiably and he has since thanked me for the chat. Appreciation isn’t an orgasm but it felt good in its own way.

* I rest my case:

A man’s perspective

The Drummer placed a profile on the sleazy free web site about six weeks ago as he was interested in meeting a casual someone. I didn’t think much of it until an interesting moment at home when my profile popped up as a match for his, however, I managed to refrain from singing the old song about pina coladas and getting caught in the rain.

On occasion he’s called me to his computer to look at a profile or attempt to decipher the subtexts in some women’s messages. I hadn’t trawled any women’s profiles for ideas when I wrote my own so reading others’ self-portrayals has been fascinating. A fair proportion have done the rounds like me and become jaded as their final paragraphs are “don’t” lists of not wanting to be played, not being treated as late-night semen receptacles, not wanting nude photos prior to meeting, not engaging in anal sex on the first meeting – we’ve all encountered the same situations judging from the knowing smile on my face when I read some of their complaints. I removed most of those ‘rules’ from my profile to see if the idiots would be less subtle and more easily identified, but perhaps my tactic was wrong and I needed to spell things out bluntly.

The Drummer received some defensive feedback for writing in his profile that he wanted to see women making more of an effort to contact men. Others contacted him solely to hurl abuse his way as they assumed he was lying about his open relationship status (I don’t understand this behaviour; if you don’t like what someone writes, why not leave them be instead of going to the effort of contacting and abusing them?). I watched one discussion unfold and was shocked at a woman’s tirade because he was already in a relationship. I was tempted to invite her to call me as a reference check but The Drummer sensibly shut down the conversation.

The Drummer was in contact with one woman and they had exchanged e-mails for some time but hadn’t progressed towards meeting. It was hard to tell him that she was either not ready or was never intending to meet when he had given her his phone number and she hadn’t reciprocated. She was still appearing online but had made no effort to chat again so her interest had waned or perhaps she was an attention seeker. Personally, I saw a picture of her bare breasts on a large monitor and would be intimidated at the prospect of climbing among those mountains.

He has suspended his account to try another site but one final woman’s comments have resonated in my mind. She said he would have to make more of an effort to win her over; quite rightly he gave up and walked away. My inner feminist screamed that one of the trade-offs of equality is that we can’t sit in ivory towers waiting for gallant lads to take all the risks and sweep us off our feet (and especially so for casual encounters).

I know my own tough times when I’ve looked for someone but it’s been eye-opening to witness that the grass isn’t necessarily green on either side of the fence.

Not a lot to report

The problem with posting in close to real-time is there’s no backlog of material to fill the gaps when nothing’s happening.

And nothing’s happening. The Country Boy just postponed our third meeting plan in a row and I’m feeling a tad frustrated. He has been ill and working seven days a week so I’ve been Ms Understanding and Patient for a fortnight, but it’s a not a long-term part I’d like to play because the forced smile is starting to freeze on my face. My period is also due in the next few days and the window of opportunity will be closing until next week (I’m trying to be patient).

There have been some stirrings of sexual activity on the home front. The Drummer came to me a couple of weeks ago with a hard cock in hand, saying I should take my medicine. Some smutty lines and roleplays make perfect sense if each person is attuned and in the mood, but I was sitting on the couch reading a book and not contemplating men with hard cocks in their hands. I felt lazy just turning my head, opening my mouth and rubbing his perineum area but the fantasy in his head involved me taking my medicine, and a mouthful I took. I pondered the surreal moment, chugged down some water, smiled and returned to my book.

Last weekend something similar happened when he was at the dining table but I moved at the last moment so his semen spurted from my shoulder down to my mid-thigh. Rather than attempt to clean the mess on my gym gear, I elected to change clothes before heading out the door. He said to make it known when I was in the mood for reciprocation, but I’m dog tired by early evening at the moment and my libido is spending more time in the shallows than at its peak. I know that sounds inconsistent to my comments about being frustrated in being able to see the Country Boy, but in the situation with him there’s also the anticipation and risk and break-from-routine novelty that I miss and crave.

Mr OMG has been back in touch and he might have a week of home-alone time later in the month. I’ve nominated myself to help take care of him so I’ll see if he comes good on some of the words he sent that left nothing to the imagination.

Has anyone ever received a mis-fired sexual text message? I received one from Young Lion recently, telling me the voice recording I’d left him was giving him an erection while he was on the train. Heh? I wrote back and said that perhaps his message wasn’t intended for me (we haven’t communicated for months). He back-pedalled instantly and said it was me he was referring to, which wasn’t correct as I haven’t made a voice recording for anyone, ever. I had a laugh about probably killing his public transport-worthy erection with my insistence that he didn’t need to bullshit.

I have to be careful at the moment as ArmyDude and the Country Boy have the same first name. The former is receiving advice on a professional issue and the latter is the recipient of unadulterated smut — a lapse in attention could result in an awkward situation; sending policy guidance to the Country Boy would be an explainable mistake but sending unadulterated smut to ArmyDude could open a whole can of worms. Don’t drink and text and don’t be sleepy and text.

This week’s cameo role is played by Mr OMG, with a guest appearance by The Drummer

Mr OMG and I have fallen into a strange but comforting routine over the last six months. He storms in from wherever he’s been, I respond with cautious joy, he occasionally sends pictures, I occasionally reciprocate and he suggests a meeting driven by the state of the hard-on in his pants. I confirm and he either disappears without notice or remembers to postpone, but it doesn’t hurt as I knew it was going to happen. We lay low for a few weeks and start the cycle again.

I have accumulated quite a collection of pictures and the resilience of mind that we may never see each other except for chance sightings at the local shops. He did offer to exit my life but we have developed a tolerable pattern of behaviour and an amiable companionship of sorts. If I weren’t so awful at being friends with exes, I’d almost call it friendship.

Last weekend we exchanged a few messages in the morning and by late afternoon his libido was rampaging. He offered to meet at the foreshore in the early evening and this time I suspected he was prepared to follow through. I was sitting at home with unwashed hair, no make-up and wearing an old tracksuit and needed to make a decision quickly. I gained the Drummer’s blessing to dash out for an hour or so and responded to Mr OMG that I’d have a shower and hit the road.

Between putting the phone down and heading to the bathroom, The Drummer intercepted me with his cock in his hand and the comment that he wanted a bit of what Mr OMG was going to have. I stopped, and was caught in a never-never land of indecision and guilt. The Drummer and I have had limited sexual contact over the last 12 months and he consents to my other life so who am I to rush out without paying attention to his wants? Then again, his lust was probably only sparked by the knowledge I was heading out to meet someone else and he has all the other time in the world to be physical with me. But I haven’t approached him for a long time though and should be welcoming of his advance regardless of its timing, but I’d made a commitment to Mr OMG.

Fuck. You can read all the self-help books and blogs in the world about non-monogomous relationships but there are some crossroads that don’t come with roadmaps.

The Drummer pulled my pants down and pushed my upper half over the bed. Decision made on my behalf. His cock was becoming harder but my body wasn’t ready and I experienced jabbing pains until my body adapted to penetration. After more thrusting he felt good inside me but the clock in the back of my mind was ticking that I had about 10 minutes until I’d be late for the agreed time with Mr OMG. The Drummer is on medication that can delay orgasm and I suspected with the short lead-in that I’d possibly be leaving him dry.


The Drummer removed my pants, flipped me around on my back and got on board. We kissed and I wrapped my arms around my back and the mis-fire of our last attempt at sex a few weeks ago was fading from memory. However, his thrusting started falling into the mechanical monotone that signals he’s a long way off coming and I broke the pattern and said I should have a shower and go.

The Drummer was understanding and said that at the start he was into it but not fully into it, if I knew what he meant. I didn’t. Maybe he was acting on the first impulse that hadn’t fully developed into serious intent; he can come in a reasonable time if he’s had a longer build-up and this was a spur of the moment action.

I showered quickly and made myself even later by waiting in the wrong car park for Mr OMG. We worked out the geographical confusion and he pulled up alongside me and got out of his car. Darkness had almost fallen and it was difficult to see him in detail after a year’s absence. We hugged and our smiles matched in breadth and he was skinnier than the last time I had my arms around him.

And I’m going to have to continue this another time as I’m away from the computer for a few days. I’ll be back.


Sorry, I’m continuing this deviation from my sexual diary again, but I need to tidy some loose ends before returning to the good stuff.


I mentioned at Christmas that my mother was ill. All is good now and she seems healthier than prior to her illness.

I haven’t mentioned The Drummer of late, firstly because there’s been no sexual activity with him for a long time, and because I am caught in a bind about how much to write. I need to express something as my partner is part of the whole story and enables me the freedom to live this part of my life, but on the other hand he’s entitled to his privacy and I find it hard to gauge how much to tell.

We have been working through some bigger-picture issues regarding our relationship and are coming from different perspectives: he’s simpler and more open in his desire to stay together for the longer term, but I look at the last couple of years and have wondered many times if the now is still what I want in the future because we aren’t moving positively from a stagnant situation. Also, I need to seek help with how to manage living with his mental illness more effectively. I don’t know if I help or hinder his (lack of) progress and I believe a greater understanding of my role will assist. It breaks me on too many days to see him a shell of who he was. I’ve sourced a counsellor and am going to start seeing her to help gain a wiser perspective because I’m too close to the eye of the storm to see what’s outside its fury.

Things are looking positive for the job mentioned in the last post and I hope to have something finalised in the next fortnight. There will be a lot of responsibility and high targets, but the company has the discipline and processes needed to succeed, so it will be up to me to achieve with them. I hope the offer comes off as I’m excited firstly about the challenge, and secondly about the freedom to effectively be running my own business within the business. A side-benefit will be more flexibility than I currently have to pursue my sex life, so things are looking up in a big way after a couple of months of eking slivers of personal time.

The Country Boy

We are back on track although my suit of emotional armour is a little thicker than previously. The irony of being more detached is that something’s occurred that currently impacts on his family and work, and he should have less time for me, but is making a greater effort to meet. Perhaps we’ll both be freer at the same time in the future and we can enjoy some relatively peaceful time together. His house will also be available for a while in a month or so; I can’t maximise use of a hotel room at present so the thought of being in a house and on a bed is enticing beyond words, and even exceeds the discomfort of knowing I’ll be entering someone else’s territory. I greatly enjoy the outdoor activities we engage in, but I’m reaching a stage where more variety and less risk would be good (having said that, we were more brazen than usual last night and I’ll have to write that story up).


Young Lion has been back in touch. He works not far from my temp gig and has suggested we fuck in a booth at a peep show … I don’t even know if that can be done as I’ve never been in a peep show booth. I must admit to some curiosity to the point I walked past the club one lunchtime, but it was at the end of a lane and some seedy-looking people were congregated at the entrance, so I chose not to explore it alone.

NZ and I have had some phone contact. His wife had a baby so he’s been on daddy duty. His sex drive seems quite high according to some of his messages, however, I’m squeamish because I’d feel I’m taking him away from something more important. He has a genuinely open relationship so any time away is sanctioned, but I find it funny that I’m the one with skewed perceptions and not being able to look past them.

I almost posted this without mention of Mr OMG but he texted yesterday to apologise for his behaviour and said he’d leave me alone. I decided that saying goodbye was his way of saying he didn’t really want to end contact, so I said I’d miss him and would like contact in whatever capacity it forms. He replied soon after so I was on the money with my perception, but I still have no idea of my true intention. My motive seems pure at the moment that I like him even though it’s unlike we’ll meet face-to-face again. Or, I am an idiot.

Future of the blog

Having been deprived of time and energy to spend on the things I enjoy has made me appreciate this quiet space even more. There were some moments I thought of walking away and just getting on with living the life rather than talking about it, but I’m not ready to do that yet.

I’ve been thinking about my sexual objectives for the year (it’s a damn long ride on public transport and I need to think about something), but they haven’t really changed from the things I didn’t achieve last year, such as another threesome. I have decided I’d like to find another girl to make some of the Country Boy’s fantasies come true and I’ll devote some time to that in a few months when I have time. I’d like to explore fisting more but I think the Country Boy’s hands are too thick and broad to fit me, but I’ll never know unless we try. That, too, will have to wait until things calm down as I’ll need a lot of relaxing warm-up time to make the attempt.

I intend to try some different ideas like adding photos more often, but that’s dependent on the usual issues of taking snaps that no one else sees and that can’t be linked to anyone. You should have seen me learn very quickly how to kill off geo-tag data on photos — hello, techno-gadget designers, I *don’t* want the world to know what I’m doing where.

I’m also thinking of how I can open this space up, perhaps to questions and answers (I’m too lazy to open and maintain a Formspring account, and I’ve convinced myself I won’t be asked any questions anyway). Felinus had an intriguing idea about a sex blogger-created site where questions or topics could be posted and discussed or readers’ stories contributed and told — like an open-table forum. I think it has huge potential but I’m good at starting and not finishing things so I’m not sure if I’m the right person to kick it off.

To end, I’ll probably have sex no more than 50 times for the rest of the year according to the rolling average of my posts, so I’m going to make the most of every opportunity.


The Drummer has changed his mind about having others in the house. I called him at work (this was a couple of weeks ago now) to discuss that Mr OMG was possibly free to catch up with me one night and to double check the newly-agreed arrangement still stood. He said everything was fine and told me to have a good time.

About an hour later he called back to say he had changed his mind and didn’t feel comfortable. I was caught by surprise and backed down immediately; our agreement regarding the open side of our relationship is that we only proceed with things with the agreement of both — anything causing discomfort or angst in one stops immediately with a reasonable explanation.

As things turned out on the night, Mr OMG was going to be too late to meet and has since wandered off again, but I was furious with myself upon reflection that I hadn’t pushed my partner for the ‘reasonable explanation’ about his change of heart. While some of my behaviour tends towards the unconventional side, I’m cautious and sensible and would never compromise our personal safety or security or any of the other things he was concerned about.

We had another talk the next day when he had settled and I had cooled and I raised my side that his reasons weren’t reasonable or rational, however, I’d back down for the moment as I wasn’t going to force him to accept people in our house. In having said that, it wasn’t fair on me to have to try to guess the real and underlying issue such as jealousy or marking territory. We talked in circles for a while and ended up nowhere closer so I’ve let it go for now.

From an overall viewpoint, The Drummer’s ongoing mental health issues are no closer to resolution with medication or therapy; he has deteriorated and the last 12 months has seemed wasted in many ways. We worked out today that he’s been diagnosed and medicated for four years now. I feel resentful at times that my own battles have to sit neglected while a lot of our energy is devoted towards managing his daily navigations and, when disagreements like the current one arise, I need to pick my times and arguments with painstaking thought about the potential ramifications. The last time I went to a psych appointment with him I felt like I was holding a ball of bitterness in my throat that I wanted to spit at the therapist that I had moments of being tired of his problems being the star player while there was little energy or time left to devote to mine. I then loathed myself inside for being petty and selfish and I ended up quieting the inner shrew and speaking as the supportive partner; I’ve lived with enough cycles of depression to know I’ll get through them and The Drummer’s problems are deeper and broader and we don’t know where the end is, so he wins.

Part of me thought quietly that perhaps him granting some time home with another would be part of the sweetener to help keep me functioning while we work through our ongoing rough patch, but sexual boundaries and mental health aren’t suitable bounty for negotiations and trade. We’ll have to come to agreement another day when he is being rational and I am feeling less selfish.