Archive for January, 2011

Piece of Ass

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am definitely not a prude.  If someone was to call me a “piece of ass” I’d take it as a compliment, because your average 20-40 year old guy probably uses the term more often than not, and not in a derogatory way – its just merely a way of them saying that  the woman who has caught their eye – is sexy.   But there is a time and a place for everything, and there is also a way of saying it that can turn a simple phrase into something vulgar and disgusting.

EmCee has a way of offending me with his comments.  Deep down in my heart, I know that’s just the way he is – as my dear (deceased) grandmother would say, “He’s crude, rude and uncouth.”  (Mind, you she never met EmCee, but I know that famous phrase of hers would have been uttered if she met him).

So EmCee is a little rough around the edges sometimes.  I know he doesn’t always mean what he says.  I know he’s not the roses and romance type.  I knew this when I married him.

But after nearly 10 years of being together, you would think he would know me well enough to know what to say to get laid.

Tuesday night (Jan 18, 2011) I was watching TV, one of my favorite shows, The Good Wife.  After it was over EmCee starts flipping through the DVR and puts on the Playboy show Foursome.  I sit idly by, on the couch, watching not for the sex, but gawking at the stupidity of the episode’s cast.  After that show finished, EmCee pulls out a bag full of porn videos (that he picked up from his friend) and proceeds to put one in.

I start to doze off on the couch, after all it’s nearly 1 am and I was tired from working all day (and subsequently doing the household chores, dinner, homework and such).  But God forbid, I tell EmCee I am tired and want to go to sleep, he pouts like a 2 year old.

At 1:30 am as I am napping (I wouldn’t call it sleep), I get woken up, “Let me see that ass of yours.”

Excuse me?  The mere words disgust me.  Now, I understand every couple has 3 stages of sex – fucking (when you just have to have your partner for a quick romp), sex (when you just want sex and you love your partner) and making love (you know the soft sweet, kiss you all night, caress you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear).   Mind you, EmCee has only 1 version of sex in his repertoire – and that’s fucking.

Usually, our sex session will consist of: EmCee expecting a blow job – a blow job is his idea of foreplay and he gives nothing in return to arouse me or get me interested.  After he gets a little head, he then expects to fuck and everytime he tries to have anal sex with me (which at this point, I flat out refuse to give into).  Once he’s done fucking me and is ready to “bust a nut” (as he so eloquently calls it) he pulls out, cums on some body part and then walks out to clean himself up.

While I am left in the bed, unfulfilled, unsatisfied and left holding the vibrator to please myself.  That’s just a saying, not that I’m using a vibrator while he fucks me (I’m usually just praying that he finishes up quickly), but the point is, if I want to orgasm, at this point, I need to use a vibrator because EmCee is done “working”.  He will then lay on the bed, smoke a cigarette and watch TV ignoring me.

So then what’s the point of me having sex with him?  Give me one good reason why, I should have sex with him, when sex is a one way street?

And I’ve told him, time and time again, if you want to get me interested, why don’t you initiate sex, you know, touch me, talk to me, kiss me, go down on me (oral sex), do something … just don’t expect me to give you a blow job and get in the mood without even warming me up!  His response usually is, well I kiss you and you pull away, I try to touch you and you don’t like it, I’ve tried to give you oral sex and you don’t like it.

Yes, EmCee that’s because your level of enthusiasm for doing any of those things is rated at a -10 (negative).  You don’t put any effort into it.  I think you rather eat a bowl of spaghetti than touch me or try to arouse me.

So when EmCee tells me, “Let me see that ass of yours.” It’s no wonder why I am unresponsive.  Whenever we have sex it’s not pleasurable for me.  It’s boring, routine and quite frankly, I feel that I am just being used.  That’s not love.  Maybe in his head that’s love, but it’s not for me, not anymore.  I refuse to be used as a “Piece of Ass.”

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Don’t Fear The Reaper

The door was open and the wind appeared
The candles blew and then disappeared
The curtains flew then he appeared
Saying don’t be afraid

– Don’t Fear The Reaper, Blue Oyster Cult

There’s something you should know.  Since I was a child, I feared death and loved life.  I often questioned if life was so great, so enjoyable, why did it have to end?  The process of death & dying I never took lightly – often the mere thought would send me spiraling into tears.  But that all changed last year when I met someone who I now consider a very dear friend of mine, M. 

I met M via the internet through casual conversation on twitter actually, about historical churches.  Our conversations which would go on for weeks via email would touch on spiritual topics, religions, history and metaphysical topics.  We spoke about our different upbringings (M lives in Europe) our current life’s work and so on.  But what we really bonded on was a spiritual connection.

When I visited Europe last year (with about 40 of my closest girlfriends from around the world, its a yearly pilgrimage we take) M also visited me.  During our email conversations, M would often say that he would not touch on the topic of Death with me because he knew how emotional it could be.  We would discuss it if we ever met in person.

When I met M, we took a walk around the city visiting various churches together, exploring the architecture and talking about the history and the religion which the building was affiliated.  After dinner one evening, I blurted out, “I don’t want to die!” and the floodgates opened.  M listened intently to everything I said and responded so gently to my outburst – I need not worry about dying.  M explained situations he had personally gone through, and explained that there is indeed existence after death, it is just not an existence neither you nor I have experienced during our mortal lives.

I had never before spoken to an individual who had words so comforting or words that I believed so deeply.   For the first time in my life, I found comfort, hope and faith.  M has always been, and will continue to be a spiritual rock for me.  M’s visited my home and stayed with EmCee, myself and Little G – and has been in my life for about 2 years now.  I’m an only child and M is about as close to a brother as I can get in this point in my life.

When I was visiting this year (last week) I got the awful news from my childhood best friend that her mother died.  Her mom was the inspiration for my business (I am in the same industry she was in) and I was deeply saddened by her passing.  It was like my own mother died.   My heart bled for my best friend, my heart bled for her family.

When I heard the news, I spoke to M.  And again (almost to the same day last year) we had a second conversation about death and dying.  But because our friendship had grown so much from the prior year, the conversation was much deeper and more insightful.  It comforted me and gave me hope.

Due to the time difference, I called EmCee as soon as it was daybreak in Jamaica to tell him of the news.  I told him the wake was on Monday (the day I was flying home) and Tuesday and the funeral mass was Wednesday morning.

“Well, you don’t have to go to the wake or the funeral do you?” EmCee barked over the phone as if her Mom’s passing was an inconvenience to him.

“Of course I do, EmCee.  That’s like my own Mom.  She’s my best friend.  How could I not go?” I responded.

“Well, she does realize you live an hour away in (another state)?” EmCee replied, almost annoyed that I was considering 3 days of constant travel.

“She’s not asking me to go, I am telling you that I am going.”  I had to put my foot down.  This is a man who has no regard for religion, the church or death.  “I have to pay my respects.  This is like family to me.”  But then again, I was speaking to a man who just had his cousin’s mom die and didn’t even go to the wake – add no regard for family to the list too.

Needless to say, I did make it to both days of the wake, but due to the time (and my son’s school schedule) I wasn’t able to make it to the funeral mass.  But I am glad that I was able to be with her and the family during this time.

Death, no it’s never been easy to me.  But standing there in the funeral home I was surprisingly calm.  I knew she went onto the next life – whether you call that heaven or reincarnation (or whatever you will) she is existing again.  I pray her journey be a happy one in the comfort of the angels.

EmCee and I had prior conversations to this regarding death, and he doesn’t believe in Heaven or Hell.  He doesn’t believe in anything.  He believes that once we die – we die – the end.  There is nothing more after our last breath.  During that conversation I had with him, it was then I realized, that when I die – I want to be holding the hand of someone who will give me courage and hope – by saying to me, “I will see you in Heaven, I will see you in the next life.”  I don’t want to be holding the hand of someone on my death bed who is saying, “Well, goodbye.  I hope you had a nice life because this is it.”

Because this isn’t it.  It’s not over.  This isn’t the end.  Those who believe shall be saved, those who believe will pass on to the next existence.  Those who believe, know … don’t fear the reaper.

Perhaps a bit morbid of a topic to blog upon, but this is just another way EmCee and I are totally incompatible – we are just on two different pages.  And its not just death, its the spiritual and religious aspect.  I have always been fascinated with religions and have a strong belief in a higher being (call him God, call him what you will) and EmCee has not.  When I was younger, I played into the whole notion that people of different religious backgrounds could overcome their differences – but now that I am older and closer to God, I realize that I need to have a partner who believes in a higher being just as much as I do – and who believes that they will see me in Heaven again – after this life is over.

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Again & Again – It’s Never Enough

Oh you hear
Me crying behind your back again
And you hear
My heart beat slowin’ down again

And i feel
Despair kissing our lips again
And i feel
Despair holding our hearts again

– Again, HIM

Although I have been quiet on here lately, it doesn’t mean the issues have faded or disappeared.  On the contrary, they have just manifested over and over again.  It’s never enough.  No matter how much I give, no matter how much I try it’s never enough.

Nothing is ever enough for him.  We give and give, and he takes and takes.  He will continue to take until there is no more.  And even after I am depleted, he will want more.

Every New Year’s we take vacations separately.  I visit my friends in Europe, he visits his friends in Jamaica.  And yes, we just got back from a family vacation in October.  And another family vacation just before that in July.

At first, his plane was canceled due to the heavy snows we had here in the northeast, but was rescheduled for 2 days later.  My plane however, was not canceled, which caused him to spin into a frenzy that I was getting away before him.  As if I had the upper hand, the advantage in his game of tit for tat.  Not that he said anything to me directly, but I could hear the panic in his voice, see the insanity in his eyes as he called the airline on Christmas Day pleading to change his flight to that evening so he could escape before the snows.  How he sat for nearly 24 hours in front of the computer trying to figure out a way to escape before me.

Unfortunately, his prayers were left unanswered, and he was forced to take vacation 2 days later than anticipated. Oh my poor husband, his vacation was cut down to 6 days instead of 8.  (Mind you, my vacation was only 6 days to begin with).

While I was overseas, Little G was with him.  I was called nearly every day and tortured – getting scolded for going away on my annual vacation and leaving him “alone” to deal with our son.  (Oh the horror! Can you imagine?!?) He told me that his vacation was horrible because he had no time for himself.  And I couldn’t imagine what it was like to deal with our son for 24/7 (Hmm, actually I do, who do you think takes care of him the majority of the time anyway?).

I was reminded that if I was there, things would be so much easier, because EmCee would have time for himself.  Please, he was in Jamaica with one of the richest families there who have a nanny watch our son and their own children when EmCee visits.  I feel so sorry that he was in warm temperatures at a 5 star all inclusive resort with a nanny…. *scarcasm*

When I touched down in America a few days ago, my (childhood) best friend’s mom had died (I have known her since I’m 5) and I had to drive straight to the funeral home for the wake directly from the airport.  After the wake, I ate a late dinner with her and her husband before driving another 60 miles home (by myself) only to drop off my luggage and drive another 20 miles at midnight to the airport to pick up EmCee and Little G.  By the time I picked them up, it was over 24 hours since I had slept last because of the European – American time zone differences.  I was practically seeing the horizon close before my eyes, but I had to drive them home.

And I was immediately bombarded with complaints.

  • he had no time for himself
  • he hardly slept all week
  • Little G gave him a hard time
  • all his vacation was spent catering to Little G
  • While I was in Europe, he was in Jamaica
  • He needed to book another vacation ASAP for the family, because this wasn’t a vacation for him
  • He needed to book a week vacation for himself too, by himself, because he needed a rest
  • why did I have to go to the wake again tomorrow and the funeral on wednesday
  • and it goes on and on…

Now, I never told him to go to Jamaica in the first place.  I’ve often asked him to join me in my vacation to Europe but I get told that my friends are “stupid”, “childish”, “immature”, the places I visit are “too cold”, “uninteresting” and “boring”.  Because European culture and history is so boring compared to parking his fat ass on a beach all week.  Pardon me that I asked you to move your fat, lazy ass and WALK around cities visiting UNESCO historical and religious sites.  (Oh the horror!)

So as I am unpacking the suitcases, doing laundry and putting away the clothing … I got really aggravated and angry.  He has SO many clothes that I can’t even get his tee shirts into his drawers.  It is a shame that there are poor people in this world who have nothing and he just continues to buy and buy … we have too much stuff.  We take too many vacations.  We toss out too much wasted food.  Its all waste.  I started to cry (thankfully, I was alone) because he can not distinguish between wants and needs.  I cry for those less fortunate than us, who are suffering through the bitterness of winter while I am stuffed to the brims in excess.  It disturbs me to no end.  My lifestyle is destroying my karma.

It may be never enough for him, but I have had enough.  I have a goal, a date in my mind – to change my destiny.  Wish me luck.  More tomorrow.

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