Four – Take It All

an unshaven Mal



“Hey, what are you trying to say?
I told you that I’m not gonna back away
Because this time there’s a price to pay…”

Take It All – Pop Evil

Five – My Medicine

A Table with a mix of sleeping pills, allergy medications and alcohol

“Somebody mixed my medicine
I don’t know what I’m on
Somebody mixed my medicine
Now baby its all gone
Somebody mixed my medicine
Somebody’s in my head again
And somebody mixed my medicine again, again”

My Medicine – The Pretty Reckless


Before 5 years ago i took about 4 tylenol a year. And an all natural ethically vegan friendly multivitamin.

When I started traveling internationally regularly half a sleeping pill was added the first few nights when there was a time change of more than 6 hours. Not great but not the worst thing. Then occasional other use to shut down and sleep would be referred to as “going into to void”. I have an addictive personality. It is the very reason I avoided recreational drugs (coffee doesn’t count).

The only other time was when she was next to me. I couldn’t sleep with her there. After her suicide on her own script for those very same pills fear of them set in. Prior it never once occurred how dangerous they could be.

A few months later when life became totally frantic I added 2 benadryl for allergies at night, Sleep was sweet. As my demons chased me, an unrelenting pace, sadness, loneliness, and ambition danced it would grow to 4.

I would feel myself floating for a few seconds before sleep. It was probably a “high”. Eventually fear faded and it became 2 allergy pills and a sleeping pill, other nights tylenol, On a Friday i tried a new pill to keep me asleep “a Stay a Sleep er all” It was magic. until it wasn’t and would linger in my system and i was literally off my fucking rocker with manic swings from high enegery to the in ability to stay awake for the next 36 hours. It took 5 or six times to realize the issue.

The demons after sleep were winning. Things and thoughts became dark in the blink of an eye. The remaining ones were flushed.

As the song says i had mixed my medicine. not once considering the potential to OD. You will literally just “wake up dead”, My daughter freaked at the cocktail. The wife mentioned the risk was real. in 9 months i had gone from terrified of pills to mixing them to find nothingness in sleep. No dreams, no memories, no waking.

So I stopped before i was the one taking a dirt nap.

Two Welcome to the Family

Skull Photo Meancing white skull outline swimming in a sea of black

“And in a way it seems there’s no one to call

When our thoughts are so numb

And our feelings unsure

We all have emptiness inside, we all have answers to find

But you can’t win this fight”

“Welcome to the Family” Avenged Sevenfold

One -All American Nightmare

All American Nightmare Photo Set Of Mal in a Black on Black Suit

Mal Seated in a White Chair shielding his fave frm the camera with his hand“Dressed head to toe black on black,

Three bunnies in the back of my Cadillac.

With me its gonna be a good story to tell;

Cash, grass, and ass on the highway to hell.

Be careful what you wish for when you dream”

All American Nightmare – Hinder

Malflic Dressed in a Black Suit, Black Shirt, BlACK STRIPED TIES AND bLACK LAPEL PINBlack Wing Tips, Black Trousers and Black Socks

“If you Wanna Run away I’ll give you a ride

Got a One Way Ticket to your Darker Side”

A Demon in Recline - Mal Laying Casually in a chir despite his formal Black on Black Suite Attire




Mrs Fever’s September Song Challenge at Temperature’s Rising 

Live After Death

Open doorway with light shining into the darkness of the room for a post about writing

I saw the food for thought prompt “why blogging” and thought well folks what the fuck! Even though I have been silent here I have still been writing. Writing was a part of life long before the blog, before the word blog was invented, trees were sacrificed in great numbers for words no one would or should ever read. Writing continued in an unrelenting cadence even while in self imposed exile in Journals, diaries, divisive political speeches for right wing nut jobs in public office (kidding) and other half baked insane diatribes. The truth is this space keeps calling to me.

If you knew me, really really knew me there is no difference between the pseudonym and the man I am.

The Show (or Sin) Must Go On

Perhaps Maiden said it best with their live album title in the mid 80’s.  It’s been a year and while I have lived a few moments here and there (over tea, on a London Street corner, contemplating the mosh pit at Slayer) until recently not much has changed in terms of having a life. In fact with one exception I have become more isolated both personally and professionally in every sense of the word. For a variety of reasons I have decided to recreate this space as an outlet, as a place to explore thoughts, and to share. 

As for the past, it is what it is. The future though is whatever I make it. Something that I no longer plan to do on anyone else’s terms. Long gone is the man tucked into the corner of posh places with an array of people who are all hanging on and want something. Gone for now and maybe forever the words of the past.  Instead I am here, alive after death both the obvious ones. Friends, lovers, relationships, what have you. Folks it has been a death filled year on many fronts and one of them is the person I was who patiently waited for everyone else. 

What follows will be different from before. More visual in nature. You determine what the story is. Long before disappearing the truth of my world had ceased to be written here. I lost my muse, my voice. and thought that the words were destroying the things and people i cared most about. It changed what I wrote, how it was written.

No longer though will others lenses influence what is said, written, or shown.

Maybe you could say I was “born again”. After all who says the religious types are the only one who can use that term?

Yes through the divine miracle of sex and coffee and a wanton woman. I have seen the error of my ways and been reborn an unrepentant hedonist in his tailored suits, crisp shirts, and lace up shoes.

Sing it with me children AaaaaaHHHHH fucking her in the ass on a Sunday morning men.

So look for me in a hot dark room

See me in your wildest fantasies and worst nightmares

And with that it’s time to live a little

I may not be the devil but have no doubt I am evil, I am wicked and I am as I once was and always will be…I am Malflic.

See you in Hell ( and hugs)




Hey I Love You

A Shakespearean Ending…

“Hey, I Love You!!”There it was on my phone when it came out of airplane mode early on a Saturday. By the time those words were read she was already gone forever. At that time I didn’t know it.


They were not words we had ever exchanged. Despite everything we discussed and a daily communication cadence that was vigorous and consistent it was not a topic that ever came up. Implied  perhaps but never said.

i read it again, waited for the punchline, the set up, or another text stuck in the void of a telco network to come through as a retraction.


The last drops of coffee came out of the machine with a gasp. I replayed the words in my head. The truth is i was shocked, happy, confused, and instantly worried. It was out of character.  My reply back “Happy Saturday! Love you too” then detailing my weekend schedule including how and when i could be reached.

Because “You suck as a texting partner” were M’s words to me  again and again every few weeks when life or necessity spun me in another direction and delayed replies to her.

Of course she would never see my words.

It was a very natural thing to say. In fact I loved her very much. Beyond that there was a feeling of great deal of responsibility to and in so many ways for her.  

Anyone who is close to me i just assume knows that i love them in some way and by default care about the others in their lives in some form or fashion. I choose to not have many close friends, am maniacal about who does and doesn’t really get to know enough to be close. It is a defense mechanism borne out of my childhood.

Our relationship was not as most would expect.  it was not torrid and overtly sexual. In fact there was very very little of that. Although the normal stuff never got written about. i was one quarter part lover four million two hundred and twelve thousand parts vanilla friend/advisor/insurance agent (not literally) and consultant ( a little too literally at times).


We shared the mundane simplicity of our everyday lives with each other usually from afar for a few years.  It was not a thing that was natural for her but something i needed when we first got together. it came from me being desperately lonely on a personl level and needing a very human connection.  Eventually it became a tenet of our friendship.

Sunrise pictures sent to me from her deck. Pictures of my shitty hotel coffee. Her work related things and heart breaks. I’d make a passing reference to what ever contract or spread sheet I was staring at. A picture of her looking like she had enough and the kids happy as could be in line at an amusement park. From me? A pic of the endless parade of morons at an airport of course.


Then there were the dirty pics. Or more accurately the pictures of literal piles of dirt, sod, root bulbs or whatever landscaping project was in mid flight.  

She would constantly brag about her other partner. I knew he truly loved and cared for her in a way I never could. I’d smile quietly as M went on and on about him.

She would send me pictures of his creations, handiwork, and countless other projects. It was sweet. She never told him about it of course.  On the rare occasion she would grouse about something i’d remind her “Remember he really really loves you.”


There can be a beauty in sharing someone even if the relationship with that third person isn’t as everyone paints it as ideal in the poly world.  We each fit into our boxes and knew about the other. Yet never interacted. I would later come to learn he was as supportive of me as I was of him.

That is both truly beautiful and totally heartbreaking. I was pushing her towards him and he would push her towards me. Both acting out of what we thought best and would make her happy.

That was my main job really. Being there helping her find things and people that made her happy. Reminding her she had value and a lot of people who loved her for who she was when she couldn’t or wouldn’t see it. Ulitmately though i failed terribly. 


In the Land of Mushrooms

I was still in the dark. Over the next 72 hours would feel every emotion i have ever had. From the unexpected joy of reading those words. To concern when no reply came that day. Her Twitter fell silent.


By late Sunday i was angry with her.  Absolutely pissed in fact. Standing at a concert she would have loved. Sent a few notes her way beforehand. Nothing came back.

No reply.

She was of course dead but i didn’t know yet. I began to shut down and withdraw. Fuck it became a refrain in my mind.

When people go silent for a bit its one thing. Life happens, plans change, internet doesn work etc.

When they disappear into nothingness for days (without warning) and that was not normal it means its over. Replaying all those times in my head that had happened.

The one time before she had done this had been particularly hard. It followed another true heartbreak too closely. Although we moved past it there is a mark that if you look closely still remains. Becuase of that I never let her  (or anyone) nearly as close again.

Gaurding myself, emotions, and my thoughts.  In those hours it seemed that well fuck here we go. Brilliant at business but stupid in everything else.


Then the thinking went from there to she was going to show up unannounced on my doorstep Which would have been fine after the initial dust up and schedule fubars.


To I had “hit my expiration date” in usefulness in her life “and she just fucking left and not bothered to say so”.  To say anger and rage were not the predominant emotion for 36 hours would be a lie. i was bitter and scorned with her. That dissolved quickly.  

Late Monday afternoon i would send

“Hey not trying to intrude. You’ve been quiet. Just let me know you’re OK”

Anger had faded and fear had set in. Something was wrong. Intuition. Somewhere in my dark fucked up mind I knew that as early as Saturday at 7am something bad had happened. How wrong was a different matter.


My own fears were fed by the memories of watching what another i cared deeply went through when she lost her partner.

Walking through my town the next morning those images of watching a vibrant brilliant woman brea and teeter on the edge started to haunt me in new ways. Would the world around me crash if what i had begun to fear was true.

Resigning myself to the fact no matter what the case i may never know anything was the hardest part.

Less than 24 hours later I would find out the truth. I had never spoken to Mr. Texas and the first time i did he would tell me the woman we shared and both loved was dead.


What he did was hard for him. In fact “I never wanted to hear your voice and never expected to talk to you” was literally said.

 However his reaching out and informing me was a kindness he chose to do for my benefit.

It is something that i will always be truly grateful for.


She’s Gone – The Simple Beauty in a time of Loss

In case it’s not clear the subtext here is this is the “happy” part of the story. In the coming days Mr. Texas, her other partners, and i would be in touch. Supporting each other.


Mr. Texas had the hard part. He shared her everyday life, knew her kids, had integrated his own children into the household. My concern quickly became her children, him, and his kids.


It was a strangely familiar problem for me. A death and me at a distance. I had missed the memorials of two local friends that had passed. it was a mistake that would not be made again.

Instead his kindness toward me continued. We still check in on each other. Sometimes talking for an hour or more.  I consider him a friend.


Mr. Texas is shining example of what good people in this life can be like. Far beyond that how wonderful and selfless people can be in the darkest of days. And all in all he is doing amazing. It would make her so happy to see.


The Blonde was wonderful as were my own kids. I am not a person who cries much. A few tears every decade. I had to choke back my own emotions as the others i share my life with were told about what happened. Never expecting to outlive anyone i was involved with. 

i am sure i hurt Alice along the way. It was never my intent but i had to shut down, to keep moving. Of course i love her, Raven and their family. View their kids as my own and share their hopes and dreams. It was not a time or place for a discussion for me.  I was simply not equipped, still processing and a million other things. In many ways i still am processingbit all.  I was lucky and turned where it was safe for me to do so.

As for my kids. Diva asked questions, About her, her kids, Texas and a million other things. Lil let’s me talk and still reminds me its ok to miss people.


If you need help get help.

Mental health in this country has just now become a slight conversation in mainstream conversations.  It needs to be at thenfore front.

National Suicide Prevention Hotline

or Call (888) 932-0017



Or call 1 800 994 9662

The morning of July 4th I found myself debating even during a workout with 142bpm heart rate when was too soon to start talking to a therapist about what had happened. How I was feeling.  And about how i should be feeling?


On the 5th i would call someone already paid to deal with me and my bull shit ask those questions. Along with how do you find a therapist who would get it.

By lunch time i had hit an operational mode. All that mattered was getting the website back from the hackers and putting up the memorial post.  Less than 40 hours in to knowing and would end up doing some gymnastics to get things online again. Then came the obsession with how to tell others what had happened. While controlling the narrative.  

I loved her and didn’t want anyone to think any less of her.

My own kids struggle with depression and anxiety. Therapy and other treatments have helped them greatly in so many ways. It’s not easy. It is a process but it can help.


My concern for them grew both short and long term as i came to grips with M’s death.

Personally I did what I always do, bury myself in work. If there is not a moment alone there is no time to think. I am told that it is self medicating. Some people take drugs, others drink, and a million other things.  Work, coffee, and yoga with a side of cycling are my methods.


Work of course is in the lead by a thousand miles. It hasn’t made me work less however recognizing it for what it is does help. Those moments can’t last forever. Eventually there is a lull and sadness creeps in when it is least expected.

Do I Have a Soul?

Everyone mourns differently. I did literally ask myself the question “Do I really not have a soul?”


Not one in the religious sense. Still a devout atheist thank you very much. There is no meeting up for the great gang bang in the sky changes of heart. Yet I asked myself the question in earnest one day. “Do I really not have a soul?”


Did I not care for her like i thought? Maybe i don’t really love anyone like I think I do. Maybe I’m broken, really truly broken? Maybe I am a sociopath and not just a confident human being? Marching on life was like a Pantera album“Far Beyond Driven”. No rest, no tempo breaks just choreographed speed and fury.

Afterall i wasn’t despondent. Depressed or hopeless. A few weeks after looked through my journals. I had written about being sad on occasion.  A few lines here or there about how i had failed. How M might still be here if i had paid more attention. Noticed something. Made more time, communicated more clearly.

Everyone mourns and moves on in their own way, at their own pace. Life marches on, dreams and goals and endless checklists fuel mine. Sadness creeps in for a moment here and there. Then again in the quiet moments is always has. Hence an over subscribed life.

During a Manson/Zombie concert. In an ironic twist of fate the Siren texted me out of the blue which helped without her knowing it. I set up some time and just had dinner with her. Which was fun for me even if i wasn’t flirty. Something to work on. I’m not flirty with anyone of late.

The moments…alone in a hotel room where i planned to cook for M the first time. So off to mexican with staff I went to Mexican. Unlimited Tacos for the win. It is hard to be sad when good tacos are in the mix.

For the record if you do get a therapist and they suggest you start journaling. Asking them how many years they would like to start with along with offering them an archive of your blog   might wig out even the most stoic professional a bit. Or so i’ve heard.

As for me Therapy wasn’t a fit.  Its there if something changes.  Instead lacing up my wingtips and went back to the comfort of business advisors, exec coaches, accountants, and lawyers. They are my safe space. 


Poseur, Fraud, and Self Guilt

Earlier this year I had told her we were done.  Nothing changed, not feelings of responsibility for her, not the cadence, nothing changed except for the type of things she asked me to go to.  Well kind of.

Instead of sending me links to 4 kink things everyday and saying “You should go to this with me” it was a kink thing every 4 days and 12 other ideas like “here’s a yoga retreat we could do on top of a mountian with hindu gods”. Or one Costa Rica…details. Daily.

It should have been seen as more than wanting attention. Or the running joke on  what my travel schedule had become. “Yes i have. ticket ro DC so odds are i’ll end up in Miami.” I dismissed those taunts rathee than seeing them as her way to tell me she needed a human connection. 

The Sunday before the end she would say she was envious of my life, my relationships with others (Kids, co workers, etc)  in what was our longest phone conversation ever.

To me the answer was easy it was what I focused on and chosen to build.  A free spirit i am not.


Along with other travel ideas then came the cycling based requests. “If you ride from PA to DC i am coming with you”. 

And then finally the always popular chorus of “you have done nothing to add stamps to my passport take me the moon, Iceland, Peru, London.”  The list went on, half in jest and half in seriousness. All of which was fine. And all of which I regret not taking the time to do.

Beyond travel M wanted and asked for things I could not or would not provide (for anyone).

A normal schedule, predictable travel, the phone to ring less,  work to be unimportant for more than a few hours. Normal things.  But nothing about my life is normal. It doesn’t make it right, but it is what it is.

So I encouraged her to find someone who could offer those things.  Rightly or wrongly i am very much my work. Then a father, then everything else. 

When the necessity of writing the announcement became my responsibility not being prepared be a mourning partner mixed with a nebulous status felt perilous.  Her others partners were wonderful, kind, and supportive as was the blogging community. It was sweet and helped.

A Hard Week in the Bay

I was headed to the Bay area in mid July. there were three reasons to be there. My current job, a future opportunity, and I had agreed to spend some time with M. Of course only two of the three things occurred.

It was the first time i had to discuss her death outside of chosen family and community members. It was one of my business inner circle. He had met her and asked how she was simply expecting she would “happen to be around”.

It was hard, again unprepared. I ended the conversation by showing my two favorite pictures of her; one kinky (by the average persons standards a leg tie) and the other plain vanilla.

Meetings went well. i had booked a day off to sort through life, ride a rental bike, and spend some focused time with her, and figure (work) things out a bit.

Instead I cancled the day off. Worked at a frantic pace for 20 hours straight, piled meetings on top of meetings.

When asked “what’s wrong” at an intense moment during a document review responded with “I’m just sad”.

Rather than addressing the problem at hand. My team said nothing and kept going.


So did I.


In those days there was not a moment’s sleep without pills. it was the first time in forever i needed them.

I slept on the plane home with out chemical help and am back to not needing them much. Tylenol for aches and pains as i get old are another matter.

The Purge

I began cleaning out my home office the following week. 15 years of notebooks, binders and records. The die had been cast. The change all but certian. It was a matter of choosing between opportunities. As part of that looking at my walls and asked if i were to get hit by a bus would this space tell my story. The answer a resounding NO!

Now its a designers nightmare decorated like a cluttered art gallery with pictures of people, places, concerts, and memories that are important to me.

They are who i love, who I intend to remember fondly.  Those not to make the same mistakes with and spend more time in the company of.

No longer caring if others asked about someone whose role in my life that was not obvious.

Chiding the Blonde i needed more pictures of her. That she needs to travel with me more, make time for us.

Maybe it will work, probably it won’t. So I’ll live “my own damn life on my own terms” as i had told her back in June.  If nothing else i have learned life is really too short to wait.


The End of an Era the Beginning of a New Adventure


Direct and to the point this will be my last post published here for the foreseeable future. Perhaps ever.

It is a goodbye and thank you for those who read, comment and interact with me.

Raven and Alice have launched their own space and will do amazing things there.  I love being part of this community but have to step away.

The day this post comes out is timed with me leaving another world and friends I have been part of  for 25 years.

The new opportunity worked out and I signed my contract as one would expect; under odd circumstances. In a hospital ER; minor injury nothing to worry about.

I have begun putting my life in boxes and will be headed to California. Haunting the bay area several weeks a month. And of course wandering around the world.

It is something that will be all consuming and take my complete attention. It is the very thing i began pursuing at 18 as a foolish dream with a half assed statement. Then spent 3 decades working towards. The opportunity of a lifetime and a dream come true. Tinged of course with a little sadness, nothing is ever truly like it seems.

There are no plans for new partners. Just more time for the ones I have left. Casual encounters hold no appeal. Instead you will find me tucked into corners with business associates, old friends, and those loves already in my life.

For now the house in the Midwest will be retained. Longer term i suspect it will become an asset that is rented out but will no longer have any of my things. The Blonde will choose where she bases herself based on the kids movements and  (maybe) mine.

I’ll be choosing my new residences. One within a 30 minute bike ride from the office. A yoga studio with in a few minutes stroll from my front door. The mountains a short drive, as is the ocean.

The other place is still to be settled on. Most likely in the South West (with far more favorable tax situations than Ca. Taxation is theft). Maybe Vegas, maybe Phoenix. Hell could be anywhere it doesn’t snow.

If you’d like you can still find me through twitter (fairly quick responses) or Fet (slow as fuck as i never log in unless there is a message).

If you are near where i am heading happy to get know you better. Friends are always welcome to visit.  I will be hosting (vanilla) parties again. Life is like the cliche says; “is too short” One never knows what the next moment holds but undoubtedly it will be more fun with a glass of bubbly and good food.

So i’ll leave you with the same words M left me with.

Hey, I love you!


Announcement – The Loss Of M

Santa Monica Pier Nov 10th 2016

It is with great sadness and a truly heavy heart that I’m sharing with you that M of Cammies on the Floor is no longer with us. She passed away tragically and all too young early last week.  I am not able to share the details and will never be in a place to do so. Please honor her memory and that boundary out of respect for her, her family, and her loved ones.

For those of you that read and interacted with M you saw a glimpse of the woman she was. Uncensored, unabashed, and filled with love and passion for so many things the world had to offer. And of course infinitely complicated.  In her true fashion it was merely just tease of the amazing person she was beyond that.  She was committed to her communities of choice including other writers, Kink, and Polyamory.  She lived every moment with passion and energy like so few others.

The parts you most likely never saw in her online work was her softer side. Her vulnerabilities beyond romantic entanglements. Her tireless love for all people and animals. The pain of her loss of A a few years earlier. She had a innocence and tenderness that was masked with quit wit.

M worked endlessly to help those she cared for as part of her profession handling each challenge with drive, determination, and courage while facing the sadness, heartbreak, and neglect she tried to alleviate. Every day striving to make other’s lives better with little concern for the toll it took on her. All done with a commitment and dedication that no doubt left so many she knew with a little better life.

M was a highly educated woman with multiple advanced degrees all obtained in order to aide those she served in her life’s chosen work.

During lighter times she would debate the value of owning books vs. simply reading them and then passing them along. Other topics often included her perceived indifference to fashion, the beauty of the mountains, her love of lush green spaces. Other passions were limitless and ranged from intellectual to creative to athletic.

For those of you who were not lucky enough to have seen her face M had the most beautiful brown eyes. Eyes that would twinkle in a special way when she was being coy, playful, or mischievous. Often accompanied by a wonderful grin that included her biting down on one side of her lower lip.

As for the practical matter of her website she always planned posts months and at times years into the future. We will have to wait and see what if anything is shared there as time passes.

She lives on through her children, family; both chosen and biological, without question her beloved Mr. Texas and of course me.

The picture used in this post is one from the happiest day  I ever spent with her.  A warm November day along the ocean. A small piece of joy to remember her by in a time that is anything but joyful.

With sadness and all my love,


  • Mal

What Are My Limits

What Are My Limits?

Prelude – originally i had planned to write this post in the usual humorous take on me being an aloof fool.  Which by all means is absolutely true. But felt it only fair to elbaorate more on some things due a few recent changes and exchanges. Along with questions from friends and partners.
“What are my limits she asked”  the truth is i didn’t know the answer.  Traditional limits; meaning mine in recent years had already been exceeded, boundaries that had just months before been removed. It was almost like being young and awkward again. Unsure of what I would do, and when and where really wasn’t given much thought.    Her only fault was being so very tempting and sexy in the right place and at the right time.  Ok so no fault at all.
 Besides I  was a fully consenting sober party who was more than willing.  In fact it has been a wonderful thing and reminded me of what i had missed for so long and in a variety of places.  In that way it was the perfect storm in terms of my headspace/place in life in general and a wondeful person who turns me on and that i connected with at exactly the right time.  Timing as they say is everything.
Normally you see there’s been a pretty firm set of limits in my world. Prudish by (most) lifestyle standards in recent years. Literally everything had become an item by item pre negoation with external parties before even considering doing anything at all with someone. Alice and in time the Siren were standing exceptions.  There was even a direct request that had a named individual for me “to not sleep” (which later got elaborated on) with and things that had been unilaterally redefined as sexual contact in and outside of a scene (impact play and bondage-ironically things pretty much limited a scene were fluidly fine and not fine with in minutes at times). Ironically the “don’t sleep with” ask was long before that was even a serious consideration as a possibility with the named party. That was a first, a little stunning but something I abided by.
However fairly recently and prior to us ( the Sexy Little Temtress and me) beginning to see each other in many ways I had reclaimed things back to where they once were in the past over the previous months. It has not been a popular decision with some parties i am involved with (or married to).  In fairness was not so much a negotiation but a declaration. Much like the previously changed allowances were. In other places it has been recieved with fan fare but sadly no large parades or civic celebrations (yet). Mayne one day soon because I would love a sexual liberation parade in my honor.
I simply said the agreement had traditionally been no PIV with out agreement.  It was not no A ,B, and C and 32 other nuanced subsets as its become in the past several years. I have abided by. Those are not working (for me) and have caused regrets in other places because of it. “I am going back to no PIV ” followed by a slightly more delicately worded Take it or leave it.
Personally I was betting the under. And (almost) fully prepared for things to go that way.  Instead it worked almost perfectly with me ultimately yeilding on a few other points (testing, contact, what level of detail would be shared to avoid (minimze) jealousy issues, and finally if the proverbial she visits she can’t sleep in “our” bed). It has caused stress and discord but for the most part is working (for me and venture to say us both) quite well now.
 You see had this tale followed the typical path of events this is the part in most stories where I would become a bumbling fool. Struggling to slip out of his jeans, trying to at some point remove his socks without falling over in front of a very sexy already naked woman. Worring that his adonis like body of old had reached an all too average middle age type build. Sadly this time the tale despite those things being the case keeps a more serious overtone.
Earlier one evening we (The Sexy Little Temptress) were having a conversation about how every partner you have there is a different connection and dynamic with.
 Some things may be the same but the feelings, attractions, activities, and to some point the limits are different.  Unique to those individuals and their arrangements. Ironically its parts of that very conversation that apply to this piece and for others benefit why i’m writing it this way.
These next lines in many ways are a dangerous set of words. My relationship with the Blonde for all these years has been deeply influenced by the ones i had prior to her. Yes dinosaurs still walked the earth.
Many of the things that are good are so beacuse of mistakes or situations prior that i had learned from or decided to change/ not repeat.  Have no fear I’ve made a lot of new ones. And TCB’s skin still crawls and the mention of “her” predecessor.
In more current events for the most part the Blonde  chooses not to or doesn’t share my kinks (at all in recent years). It is a challenge and i’d spent those years walking a line that didn’t necessarily work for either of us (fully). My kinks despited occasional lapses in faith are integral to who I am. They may not define me but are part of the person i am. Put that on a hallmark card…”i’m kinky deal with it or get the fuck out!”
So some back ground. Today I am not a jealous or possevive man (when it comes to my partners. In my professional life I am ruthlessly territorial. God damned capatlists) becuase it was that very behaviour that led to the demise of previous relationships, sunsequemt ones, and so many around me.
And on the topic of relationships ending I was never bright enough to articulate it but Kendra Holiday of The Beautiful Kind once wrote something to the effect of “That rather than mourn what we’ve lost we should celebrate what we had with that person.”  They are words thought about all too often in the past few months.
More recently the Sexy Little Temptress has been the beneficiary of regrets I have from things I failed to do elsewhere. Of places where I had chosen to be (overly) reserved with others for both internal (my own limits at the time)  and external (their relationship status and partners). Reasons based on both timing and circumstance not atrraction, desire, or feelings.. All valid, all legitimate.  In a crude amercainism now I’ve taken my foot off the brake and gunned it. If there is a curve ahead and sooner or later there will be i’ll take it on two wheels or die in a firetly crash and burn scenario.  At least it was at a speed i loved. So now i’m living more as myself than recent history has allowed. The new me is a lot more like the old me but with fewer proverbial  fucks given.
At least for me it doesn’t make any of what is shared with others less honest, true, important, or unique to us.  But lost is lost and past is past. Learning from those experiences as painful and heart wrenching as they were (and at times still are) has helped.  It has forced me to confront my own needs, wants, and desires in a direct and often brutal way. In some cases redefine the needs and wants.
In those heated moments when she asked “What are my limits?” For the first time in a long time I didn’t truly know the answer.
Reaponding to her ineloquently with one hard limit. Everything else was on the table for discussion.  It was newly reclaimed ground and involes a wondefful new partner.
Because sometimes enough is enough, because you don’t want to wake up alone in the middle of the night regretting having turned your head one too many times and settling for kiss on the cheek. Of not reaching out and making contact when you had the chance. Of day dreaming about a weekend with someone that would never happen. Of wanting to wake up next to them and have coffee only to no do so but instead wake up alone another 200 times.
So i look back at the past and choose to view it as a beautiful thing that has led me to here. To some maybe I was a mistake, if so i’m sorry but choose to look ahead with optimism, hope and promise that everything on all fronts will become that happiliy ever after that complicated lives never seem to get.
A few final words. I have always done my best to be honsest here about what I write. While at the same time attempting to be sensitive to others and never intentionally hurtful. That of course hasn’t always worked. This post walks down that line  of being potenially hurtful to people I do care about dearly, love, and adore. The line is closer than is comfortable in many ways.  As is often said “I am a lot of things, many of them not very nice” but in truth really do try to never to hurt anyone’s feelings on purpose. I hope to not have done that here. Things are what they are.
Now if you’ll excuse me i have an orgasm based theme and a bucket list in need of a few more ticked boxes. There it is full disclosure on what has “changed”.  Keep your wives and girlfriends away from me as you see fit.