“Stay alive” Bob Marley

With less than a week away, I cancelled my New Year’s trip to Jamaica. It sounded adventurous, to climb the blue mountain peak alone at night on New Year’s Eve and watch the sunrise on New Year’s Day but the fact was I wasn’t going to be able to do it within budget. No Backpacking/hiking trip should cost over $1k but after 6 weeks planning, it became clear to me that no foreigner, particular a lone American woman, would truly be welcome to live like a local. The cost of living may be inexpensive there but I would always get the American Price. A 50 Cent bus ride would cost me $20. Free beaches would charge me a fee. I hate the idea of haggling for everything I eat and Everywhere I Go. So much so that I was no longer looking forward to this trip. So I took a friend’s advice, took a hit on the plane ticket, and will spend another New Year’s Day with toes in the sand with good people rather than alone on a Mountaintop. I still look forward to hiking the Canadian Rockies for my birthday amd I may be squeezing in a few dance trips in between. So Merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, Happy New Year, to all of you. And Bill, my dance partner and precious friend, no New Year’s Eve swing dancing for me this year. Not without you here.

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“Whiskey and wine, night after night, you haunt me” ~Sir Sly

(Rated R- for sexual content and adult language)

I awoke with the taste of him between my teeth. My lips resting against the bare skin of his back. Breathing him in, his warmth. Was it really only three months ago? I ache for him more than I ever thought possible. I beg for strength, for release, for G-d to bring us back together: If it could be then let it be! I beg and pray and they are one and the same.

He communicates in spurts. I was a normal functioning human being last week because I heard from him daily. Several times a day. So often that it was almost like having a real conversation. He said he was helping his son with a report on ISIS. I said “I refer to that organization as the Prom Queen: So popular this year and everyone wants a piece of their ass.” He told his son, who thought it was the funniest thing ever. I said “I’ll give him $10 to put it in his report”. He came back “Make it $20 and he will say it in front of the class”.

Later when his son went to bed, we continued to ‘chat’ while he drank whiskey out of a coffee mug. He admittedly had been drinking every night since he got back home from overseas. Still, we don’t talk about her although I hint and jab. When he told me his son broke up with a “moody, manipulative bitch” of a girlfriend and got himself a sweet, cute, normal girl, I said “You could take a lesson from your son.” No comment. Our ‘conversation’ turned erotic. I was never much for ‘sexting’ or cyber sex until him. I fantasize about him constantly and like to give him the details. It’s no exaggeration when I say I can go from zero to orgasm in less than a minute thinking of him. I tell him to think of me on my knees, his hands in my hair while I worship him with my mouth. I tell him to think of how wet and hot I am as he’s deep inside me and I ride him hard. Later as he’s cleaning himself up, I think: How sad is this? That this man is masturbating to me alone in his living room while his wife is..where? Sleeping upstairs? Where the hell is she? Does he get rid of her somehow while he’s got the kids around? I said “Things must be okay between you and the wife since the kids are staying with you at the house this weekend rather than a hotel.” No comment.

Later, I get him worked up again and when he explodes, I tell him “Good boy…” He laughs “Now should I get my ass to the kitchen and do the dishes?” I said “No, baby, your job is to fuck me from behind while I do the dishes”. I like to remind him that I am truly domestic and old fashioned, like a sex crazed June Cleaver meets a Kat Von D-looking Rachel Ray. He jokes “Wait, so I don’t have to do all the cleaning, cooking, grocery shopping, laundry…and I still get sex? What movie is this??” I replied quickly and firmly “It’s called ‘Fourth Times a Charm’”. I like to remind him of all the ways I am not like her or anyone else he has ever met before.

I am considered a ‘switch’ in certain circles but the truth is, no one has ever truly dominated me. Until him. He is an Alpha-male through and through and we compliment and satisfy each other perfectly, not only sexually but it creates a balanced relationship overall. We could be great together. We could be exactly what each other needs, not just wants. For the first time in my life, I have met my match. And he’s not available.
And I don’t know if he ever will be. I don’t know how he feels about me. I always tell him. But I don’t ask. I figure, when he’s ready…

But that was last Sunday. That’s what I get for feeling good for a moment. A few days goes by and I’m not only living out of a suitcase all week for work but I have a string of nightmares about him. I finally send a desperate message “Please just tell me you are okay”. He responded with “Im here, Im okay. I have just been extremely preoccupied these last few days. I’m so sorry. I’ll try to fill you in soon. In the meantime, get some sleep, no more nightmares!”

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Another few days has gone by since then. The nightmares have ceased for the moment but my mood has plummeted. It’s Halloween night –my favorite holiday—and I’m alone in a hotel room, wondering what he’s doing, who he’s with. Is he dressed up with his wife at some costume party? What is he ‘preoccupied’ with to the extent that he cant ‘talk to text’ into his phone and tell me what is going on? Was his wife out of town and now she’s not and he doesn’t have the privacy he did last week? Shit, then go sit on the toilet in the bathroom and write me then!

I’m worried. I’m anxious. I’m jealous. I’m lonely. And depressed.

Months ago, I applied for a few jobs on a whim that I figured I didn’t hae a shot in hell at. Ive been musing for years about needing a ‘do over’, about having been in one place too long, worn out my welcome with my old friends…but I’m not making an effort to leave. I apply for jobs I know I wont get. Then I got a phone call. Then they flew me out to one of my favorite spots—Savannah—to interview. They flew me in, got me a nice rental car, put me up in a suite and encouraged me to hang out all weekend and get the feel of the place. I have another commitment this weekend that prevents me from doing that but I AM impressed at the treatment. Ive never had a company court me before. My experience over the years is I am like a mortgage, passed off from one company to the next and rolling with the punches to the gut of pay cuts and a parade of shitty bosses. This job would mean stability. It would mean a pay cut, at least initially, but it would also mean swift promotion potential. The cost of living here is comparable to where I already live too. So what’s the hold up? I’m scared.

There are other things I must also consider for my own mental health, like the dancing and dating scene. The dance scene doesn’t seem to have as much to offer as I first thought, considering this is a town that is the home of an enormous fine arts university. And I did a little surfing on the dating sites and while the pool of single men is significantly smaller here, I remind myself that being in a large pond hasn’t done shit for me in the last decade. It’s about ratio of men to women. It hasn’t been in my favor and it only gets tougher as I get older. So I sent a message to 3 or 4 Savannah-based fellahs, introducing myself, saying that I was in the area and contemplating a move here and wanted to know if they might be interested in meeting for a drink or at least giving me some ideas of where to go to experience it like a Native; ie: get me off touristy River Street. None replied. I know that is a small sampling and I probably shouldn’t read TOO much into it but I didn’t take it as a good sign.

My interview went well this morning and I’m absolutely certain that theyw ill offer me the job so afterwards, I spent the rest of the day and night, driving and walking around, trying to figure out if I could live here. Being 10 minutes away from a beautiful beach at home, I made it a point to drive out to Tybee Ilsand here. But a beach is not a beach. The shore was limited and unimpressive. The sand coarse and gray rather than soft and white. The water deep, tumultuous and threatening, unlike the peaceful lapping at my beach. Such are the differences between the Atlantic and the Gulf. Then I drove back into downtown Savannah but found that the charm and awe I always felt on previous trips to this beautiful old city were lost in my loneliness. If I moved here, I would be leaving my entire support system. My family and a handful of friends who I (hope I) can rely on to rescue me from myself if things get ‘that bad’. Then I found out about the travel this job would require. A few weeks each month traveling to Boston, Texas, England, Hong Kong…part of me still longs to travel but that is quite a LOT of travel. Doesn’t leave time to cultivate relationships. And then I wouldn’t have anyone to watch my pets while I was away. If this job were local to where I live now, I have family who can care for my beloved Zoo but if I took this job here, I couldn’t bring them with me. So then I would be TRULY alone: no friends, no family, and no cuddly adoring critters to remind me daily that I am loved and needed. Oh but you’ll make new friends, you say. Not necessarily. Savannah is full of tourists and college kids. My potential future co-workers were all married with children. Moving here, I would be alone, alone, alone…Not a single soul, unless you count the one haunting wherever I’d live.