Home Sweet Home

So the trip was good. We had a couple of glorious kid-free hours, so we spent some quality time together fucking shopping and then we fucked went to this great Mexican restaurant and had Coronitas and chimichangas. I drank four of the Coronitas myself, slammed them actually, which is a whole lotta alcohol for me. I’m usually good for one, maybe two drinks. But Master said drink so I drank.

I think he was hoping to get me sloshed so he could take advantage of me. *nods*

After dinner we rushed back to our hotel where we had wild and amazing drunk sex visited with some friends that we never get to see, and of course they stayed and stayed and stayed and I crashed out at the ridiculously late hour of 3AM 9-freaking-30. Because I. Am a twat. And I can’t handle my liquor. And instead of fucking during our glorious kid-free hours, I fell asleep.

The End.

Boo.

The next day we took babygirl to the zoo for her first zoo experience. And she hated it. Because it was stupid hot and humid and she has zero interest in animals and even less interest in being trapped in her stroller. The highlights of her day (read: the only times she wasn’t crying) were the popsicle I shared with her and the water that I poured into the tray of the stroller that she splashed all over herself.

The last time we took a trip back to our hometown, it only stirred up how homesick I was for the convenience and hustle and bustle of the big town. The restaurants, the stores, the traffic, the noise, the smell of the paper mill. I wanted it all back and I hated leaving it to come home.

This time, the traffic made me nervous, the noise irritated me, and the lights and stores and restaurants were overwhelming. I came away this time homesick for here. For the deer that trot through the yard at dusk, the clear skies with sparkling stars, the smell of fresh pine and earth. The simplicity.

It was good to get home.

Monday we took the fishing boat out on the lake and that was fun. I really like when I have his undivided attention and he can’t escape me. I mean, unless he was gonna bail and swim to shore, I had him trapped. So we just talked and fished and talked and fished and it was a good time.

We hardly ever run out of things to talk about. When I was with my ex, we never talked. We had nothing in common, no shared interest and worse, no interest in sharing the others interests. In fact, we actively prevented the other from participating, and resented any intrusion.

So, this easy friendship and sharing that I have with Master, even after 6 years, is something I cherish. I think I needed the requirement of transparency that came with M/s to learn how to share. To understand how vital it is to maintaining a relationship. It’s still not always easy for me, I tend to either dismiss myself as interesting to him or I bottle it up to avoid making waves…. but I’m so much better now than I used to be.

It’s funny, really, so many people want to point out how M/s or at least our particular style of M/s is unhealthy and yet I am undoubtedly at my personal healthiest. Ever.

Mentally anyway.

Physically…. erm…. not so much. But that’s another entry. :P

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