Jealousy [insert lyric]

So driving to work today two songs came up on the ole iTunes, first was The Killers Mr Brightside, another a little later was El Tango de Roxanne.

Besides being from my effed up eclectic music taste, both of those songs are about one thing: jealousy.

So what a perfect fucking time to discuss exactly that, I don’t have my laptop, so it’s time for you, second string writing goals (which is what this anonablog is, sorry, you’re not third though?)

So, a skeptical observer might find fault with “open” relationships in the sense that, well, how can you be married to or with someone for a long time and NOT get jealous when they started wanting or even liking someone else?

Yeah, I’ve got news for you, you DO get jealous. These are not magic people who lack this emotion. But what they do lack is possessiveness, and the “open” quality, that your SO isn’t sneaking around or lying at all, that you’re both giving each other space to explore certain feelings in a healthy way, really goes a long way. There’s no waking up during the night to find them gone and wondering what lie they’ll feed you this time about there they went.

That being said, that annoying bitch from his college/volunteering that I wrote a whole blog about once, I will never like her. But this doesn’t mean my husband isn’t totally free to fuck her (on his end, she clearly likes playing head games, and not the fun ones, teehee sex joke). I mean I was perfectly civil when she was over but like….I don’t like her….

My husband didn’t like R. All they had in common was the alcoholism. And even with that, with my husband it didn’t consume his identity. Well, it was, but only for a time.

BUT even though he didn’t like him, and it made him jealous that I was so into him, my husband still gave me this space.

AND a weird phenomenon that happens with “open” situations, you’re jealous BOTH ways. For example, that one Saturday where I thought things were definitely going to happen with N, my husband was jealous of both of us.

He was jealous of me because he wished someone he went to school with wanted to fuck him. It’s a fun situation. Or it would’ve been.

He was jealous of N because like, idk, there’s something magical about getting ready for the first time you think you’re going to fuck someone (I can’t be alone in this) and my husband saw me getting ready, specifically when I was sitting on my couch completely ready but without pants on because I was putting lotion of my legs. My husband was watching me from across the room, as I lotioned from ankle to thigh in undies I normally don’t trot out, and I could tell just from the way he was looking at me.

Which I SUPPOSE a different sort of person would have felt bad, and I mean I in no way wanted to hurt him in the slightest, but at the same time I feel like a neglected toy sometimes, like oh, you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the need to have this thing you have ZERO interest in most of the time just because you see someone else has it/wants it. Well gee that makes me feel fucking special. Also whenever we swang he would always have to fuck me like right after the other guy. I didn’t mind per say but I felt like a tree he needed to piss on.

So. In case you were wondering, being open/swingers/poly does involve jealousy, but in the spirit of being open, we’re open about that feeling too, and you work through it like any other. I guess our big thing is being honest about feelings.

Like I want to fuck this person from grad school. Or I want to fuck this chick from political volunteering. I feel that’s better than those thoughts happening without acknowledgement. But I could also be super fucked. Both?

Well this was fun. Stay warm.

~Cassie

He’s got to be out there somewhere

Do you ever stop to think about how many times you’ve actually had good sex in your life?

Because I did.

It’s not the best record.

I guess I was thinking about it because lately, my husband and I are back into this pattern where we never have sex. It’s just the usual we’re never both in the mood and awake at the same time. His libido is the same, he just jerks off instead. Which worries me. Because one time, that’s how it started, and we all know how it ended. But that isn’t what this is about.

This is about me considering my sexual history, and how any of it was barely even worth it.

Don’t worry, I’m not wasting time on this, I’ve written 10,000 words this weekend. CF is up to 170,000. Yeah. Woo. It’s also almost done. So that’s exciting.

But anyway.

So sex with my first boyfriend Nick was good. That was about the only good thing about that relationship. He was such a jackass. We dated four months.

Then the second guy, Chris, as hot as this guy was, it just wasn’t possible to have good sex with a guy with that small of a dick. It was maybe three times with him max.

Then third was Dan, another like “official” boyfriend. He wasn’t terrible, but like, lazy and selfish kind of sums that guy up in every way, sexually included. We dated eight months.

Fourth was Doug (as you all know him) – that was good sex. Like at one point we had sex standing. A guy that’s strong enough to do that with me is rare enough. I’ve never had anyone else even attempt it. But it was so like messed up in other ways, like I was obviously REALLY into this guy and we had sex a few time, and it was usually really good, but then he was all “I’m not over my ex” with me. His ex from high school. But anyway.

Fifth was Matt. That was once. He was hot enough but the sex was subpar. I was pretty drunk too. Again, once with this guy.

Sixth was my husband, and like, that’s always been all right. It’s never been bad, and he’s more generous than a lot of guys I’ve been with, but again, it’s just not…eh…idk…..it’s just lacking in some way

Seventh was R. I think we know well enough about all that.

Eighth was the first guy from the couple we “swang” with, the ones we went bowling with. We had sex for all of like three minutes. It really sucked. I barely want to count this guy.
Ninth, again, I don’t really count this one, because we never had vaginal sex. He’s actually the only person who’s dick I sucked who I didn’t also fuck.

Huh, what does that say about a person where if she does anything with someone, she does it all? Except anal. I’m not doing that. As much as I write about it, because I have so many fucking gay characters, it’s from watching porn, not personal experience. But anyway.

So yeah, like 8 guys, maybe nine. I don’t know why I thought it was ten. Maybe some day soon…

That’s why I subjected this blog as I did.

Since it didn’t work with R. For reasons of his raging alcoholism. And I was spending too much time with him. I know better now. I’m hugely confident I would do better with that sort of situation now, with someone else. This is not me being into R and wanting him specifically back. I don’t miss him. I miss what we had. We spent so much time together. BUT, at the same time, while the sex was good, he was really selfish and inattentive at the same time. He felt no need to make sure you were taken care of, this I can assure you. But again, I did have sex with this guy like…a ton.

So it didn’t work with R, though it might have. And then there was that brief foray into possibly getting down with N. But alas that didn’t happen either.

So now. I wonder.

He’s got to be out there somewhere. There’s GOT to be some guy who wants this role in my life, who is someone I can have what I want with, who’s smart enough to talk to. It’s not such a tall order. It really isn’t. The guy could have his own life, like be single or not, have a wife or a girlfriend or whatever, it’s not really my business. I am not interested in changing my situation. This is about the…something else, that I’ve felt the need for, for a long, long time.

It’s painful the last good sex I had was R, and even then he was so unideal in other sexual ways it’s hard to even long for him. And with Doug, it’s like, how could he be so stupid not to be into me? And with Nick, he just sucked so much as a person.

So I don’t even want the guys who were good in bed, for various reasons.

So there’s got to be a guy out there. There really does. But I can tell you I’m 30, I’m sick of waiting for him.

When I imagine him, he’s a younger, taller version of Professor I. He lives by himself in a boho apartment. He wears turtlenecks and blazers. He can talk to me, and he wants me, and he wants to do both, and I know that when he looks at me.

It’s not so much to ask.

I’m certain of it.

So I guess until then I’ll be writing CF and relatively content with my husband.

So that’s fine, I guess. Things are like, fine, and stuff.

~Cassie

What the goddamn fucking shit is going on with this past week, am I on some sort of reality TV show right now?

Just absorb the message of that email:

I’ve gotten three reviews from this exact boss before. This is first time she’s ever requested we do so on a Saturday…and for the specific reason that she wants to do it when no one else is there…..BUT WHY.

I guess if I walk in on Saturday and someone from HR is with her I’ll know. She said it’ll take “approximately thirty minutes.” I’m literally filled with questions and confusion and dread. OMFG it’s been the week for those feelings, hasn’t it???

Like, I would love to say I’m not upset and angry about shit. But I am. I wish I wasn’t. If there was something I could magically fucking do to stop consistently thinking about the same shit, I would do it. I mean I tried rage stigmata, but my hands aren’t strong enough not like they were when I was a kid. At least now I just have to hold it together at work. My husband is good, VERY good, about emotional support. That and his unique status as the first/only guy to ever EVER appreciate me for the awesome person I am are why I’m still with him AND married to him AND took his last name. Again, these things did not occur magically, they are possibly my hardest “earned things that aren’t things” as I like to call them. Like my friendship with my best friend, which most people don’t have with someone from the 8th grade. Or the fact that my ENTIRE life people have been telling me I’m a strong/talented/good writer. Or that my husband tells me all the time that I’ll always have a husband who loves me.

Oh my fucking god, like WHAT IS THIS WEEK? Do you realize how normal and happy and excited I felt last Thursday compared to today?

You know what I found TRULY unfair? How misery doesn’t burn calories. I mean, it should, right? You can say the whole lost-my-appetite-due-to-sadness and yes that does happen to me all the time but I’m still an alcoholic who truly prefers beer. Jesus I haven’t worked out in like a week. But it’s cool because I haven’t been able to afford pole classes in a month. It’s $75 for 4, and it’s $ I just haven’t had. Which is so fucking embarrassing and pathetic. I’m thirty, I’ve been working since I was 16, I worked full time through a bachelors and a masters….and I’ve been living paycheck to paycheck the entire time. My husband is a barista. Yeah. I work REALLY hard at not comparing myself to others…which is good….because I really often think about how no one else I know rents anymore or drives the car they had when they were 19. But whatever. I’d trade actual, genuine friendships/FWB over that other shit. But spoiler I don’t get that either. I see my best friend roughly three times a year, on a good year.

Why doesn’t crying burn calories? It goddamn should. All it does is make my under-eye area super puffy, then the next day it’s a little more wrinkled than it was. How DEEPLY unfair is it that crying causes eye wrinkles???? Like…clearly I already HAVE problems please no more.

Speaking of, I read something that said donating blood burns a shit ton of calories and prevents cancer.

Do you think that last one is true, or is it like Red Cross propaganda? The calories makes sense because like…they steal a pint of your blood and all.

The game plan.

I am on my first tall can.

I have one more.

Before he goes to spar, I’m going to ask my husband to get my the shit for my favorite mixed drink. Prepare yourselves, because I’m about to reveal how trash I really am. It’s rum (a cheap one, because we’re broke AF like always on Thursdays, so probably Castillo…yeah….Castillo.) and wild cherry pepsi on ice. Don’t tell me that isn’t perfect and amazing. But it’s probably just as calorie-laden as beer.

BUT the drunk from booze is different than beer drunk. Personally, I HATE wine drunk. I know, revoke my vagina right now. Like most people I don’t like who I become on tequila, I don’t like any of the “brown” liquors (despite LOVING the phrase “stuff it down with brown,” I just pretend it pertains to beer…although I only like light beers like pilsners or heffeweizens or kolsch. OMFG I love Kolsch beer. Okay I sound like one of the pretension douches. Get this straight, 90% of the time I drink Coors Light from the can. I don’t even pour it in a glass because then I have to wash that glass.

So I’m going to get very, very drunk tonight. I work at 6am tomorrow, and it’s going to be a day spent ENTIRELY thinking about how my boss is making me drive to work an EIGHTH time this week to give me my review when no one else is around. There’s literally no chance it’s for a GOOD reason. W used to do this to me. He’d have to break away from a lecture/screaming session because the POS needs to chill out all the time (by “chill out” I mean sit and watch TV and drink coffee and chew tobacco and get high on pain meds/booze) THEN when he’s done chilling out…if he doesn’t feel the need to nap (thank god W never had a job to get in the way of his lifestyle) it was right back to it. I’d be in my room, or watching TV in a room separate from the room HE watched TV in…and there he’d come, charging in, all angry (even moreso this time because you know, heightened level of fucked up-ed-ness) just to bring it up all over again, and just keep saying the same shit over and over. That’s part of his I’m-going-to-wear-you-down-mentally play. W never stopped being a shitbag cop. No one knows this more than his family. With my mom, he’d come charging into the room where she was attempting to dissociate and say, “AND ANOTHER THING,” that’s how he always started it. Like…keep that fight going…don’t let bad feelings die…bring up mistakes someone made 5 years ago when you’re mad at them for something completely unrelated….just you know, the mean (WOW that was a mistype but a spooky one…) the MANY things he did on a constant basis that I grew up thinking were normal. I was the only one smart enough to get away out of the four of us. I guess W’s way out is a little dark, but you know what the fucker chose his lot in life when he ruined my childhood and my brother’s sanity.

This is why, more than ANYTHING else, I’ve so far controlled my urges to contact N again. Because I’m seriously obsessed by the idea.

Not over sex.

Please.

Do I LOOK desperate? Look at my ass in this dress. You could crack walnuts with that thing.

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BUT, like….I fucking NEED beta readers. And who else do I know who’s smart besides my very busy best friend? My husband is already my very first reader.

Is this me lying to myself?

IDK. I don’t think so?

I don’t mean to be mean but like….it’s not like the guy is SO good-looking I can’t be around him without it getting weird for my hypersexual self. Like the MEGA fine director who sits by me who says good morning to me on certain mornings. I literally cannot look at him and talk to him at the same time without turning SO red. We had a guy in sales, one who I had to work with because I remove sold units when the buyers come get them, and EVERY time he came over and talked to me, I could feel my face turning red as the conversation went on. Omg he was so cute. I added him on Linked In and he never accepted. He left the company kind of bitterly, but he bothered to come over and say good-bye to me when he said he was probably going to be leaving because he asked for more money and if he didn’t get it he was leaving. SO tragic the day Donnie left. I said his name. It’s common enough I guess. So, I don’t have all that going on with N. Plus I’m great at looking terrible when I want to. It’s a skill if you’re trying not to get creeped on. Not saying N was creepy with me…in fact the opposite…if taunting someone with sex (twice!) is the opposite of being a creeper.

So. I could potentially see asking him to read CF (nickname clusterfuck).

But then part of my brain is like What are you doing? Do you WANT to have to kick yourself later? Why do you love that SO Cassie, mmm? Do you know? Why are you intent on pursuing the men who behave as if you couldn’t possibly matter that much to them?

I always know.

I’d say that’s the deepest loss in all of this.

God I CANNOT stop obsessing over this.

It’s just like when I was like….8-12 years younger than I am now.
Well that’s probably not the best sign.

SIGH.

Well, I think I’m going to finish this night out by writing maybe another page – because side note I want to try and write every day in November – then I’m going to drink heavily and play Friday the 13th online, which is a dope game, if you’re so inclined to gaming.

‘Til next time

The soon to be unemployed

~Cassie

30th birthday/420 weekend recap

The title says it all. It was great seeing my best friend for longer than three hours between her driving from her place on her way to her mother’s. She got here around 12pm on Thursday. But then she was gone from like 1-4, so I’ll count from then on. We went to a grocery store to stock up on the random things i needed to make Mai Thais (then, in total this weekend, we made one mai thai, I made her one at the end of the night with almost no rum in it…because we’re old now…anyway) and this fun alcoholic coffee drink I like making. Then when my husband got home from work on Thursday around 7 we went to a brewery by me that was disappointing. But then we came home and ordered astoundingly good pizza from a specialty award-winning one-location-only pizza place by me. So that saved it. Then we went to bed after a few more drinks.

Then Friday on my actual birthday we got up somewhat early, after my husband had left for work, she and I went to a breakfast place I’ve always wanted to try, but it’s always so busy I never try to get in on the weekends. That’s the first picture. What’s hilarious, what I didn’t notice happening at the restaurant but my bestie did, was that there was a couple sitting near us, and the girl got jealous/mad because either the guy said something about us/one of us being hot, or she caught him staring at us, because she said really loudly, in a voice meant for us to hear it (I didn’t hear it because we’d just gotten our food and I was like…devouring that…) she said “Oh that girl? Right over there by that waiter with the tattoos? Oh, she’s too gothy for ME.” Idk which one of us she meant, my bestie has dark hair, but I have a bunch of rando ear piercings.

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See, I told you we were real cute. We always have been! Anyway….I LOVE how, even a little hungover and unshowered, we’re still making this rudeass person in the breakfast place petty as hell. Mwaahaha bone structure.

Then part of Friday was spent running the boring errand of getting my paycheck from work and taking it to the bank, because LORD forbid we have direct deposit…..Anyway.

Then we went back to my place for a few hours. BFF got some cardio in, because God forbid she not do that for one day. Then she and I got ready. Then around 4pm we hit up a book store I’ve always been meaning to look into, but never got around to going to because they close at freaking 5pm. It was a disappointing book store, to say the least.
Then we went back to my place to wait for my husband. He gets home from work around 7pm. Then, we finally got to the Mexican place I wanted to hit up for dinner around 9. Then we’re there until almost 11pm.
I’d wanted to get all done up and hit up a gay club, like I told you guys, but then I was REALLY tired by the time we got home from the restaurant, I was like I don’t want to go pay cover just to buy expensive drinks and want to come home the whole time. So we only took only more pic:

 

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Then Saturday morning she left to go with her aunt to visit her mother in our hometown. Then I did NOTHING on Saturday. Like I did our laundry. And I SAT on Tinder. That’s right, I started a Tinder again, this time under my alter ego, Cassie. That’s right. AND, I managed to nail down a situation that i think will work out.
I won’t say the guy’s name because I don’t want to be rude about confidentiality, but he lives near enough and is the same age as me, and is very interested in being the bisexual interloper we need for a MMF threesome. I mean, that’s what I really want out of life, and my husband is also very into the idea. And he likes the guy I found. BUT, the guy said he can’t meet up until the weekend after next, sigh, so we’ll see if things hold up that long. Sometimes it’s easy to forget about Tinder convos am I right?

I’m a little embarrassed I had SO much extra time off, and I didn’t write any more than normal…but oh well. I had a good time doing nothing, swiping left, slowly wooing this one cute guy for my husband and myself….It was a good time. He sent a dick pic and that’s a good situation, so that’s awesome.

So, the last thing I did this weekend was get done up to do some photos. As you know I have an at home pole, well enjoy below, one is me on my pole, I’m not rich enough to have the video support plan…sorry y-all. Then there’s another one of me because I did my hair AND make up and wore a fancy new pole outfit.

Then the last picture is me having a mai thai by myself, in comfy clothes, as i know my bestie suffers at her mother’s house in our hometown. I feel for people who still speak to their parents. That sounds real tough.

Anyway, I had a good 30th birthday and long weekend off from work, I really do appreciate that I had my best friend and husband with me for it, as I have for so many now. I cherish them both and my relationships with them. I’m sure my 30s will be great considering how fucking bad my 20s were by comparison, right?

Hope everyone had a good weekend. My birthday gifts were my pole, and like 12 edibles, and a new bubbler that makes me feel like a wizard when I use it.

Peace

 

~Cassie

 

Slow, jagged remorse

I’ve been feeling guilt, deep insidious guilt, for as long as I can remember. I recall as a young child I would feel terrible if I left an opportunity to spend time with my mom to be with friends. And, believe me or don’t, I felt truly and deeply guilty every time I left my house to spend the night at R’s. It didn’t stop me from going, though. My feelings have never been enough to stop my actions, which typically follow whatever my dominant train of thought is at that moment. Sometimes I worry I’m impulsive, other times I’m disgusted at how boring I am. I do love routine and order and habit and pattern, but it has to be unity and variety, not just unity, that’s for psychos.

My husband asked me recently, if I felt so bad doing what I did, why did I do it? It’s not an easy answer. Someone who didn’t learn how to act the opposite of how they felt at a young age isn’t going to comprehend it.

But, at the same time, my husband was more than pleased to use my comfortability with degradation and depravity when he wanted to swing. Which it wasn’t so much swinging as foursomes where the guys didn’t interact but whatever. I mean I wasn’t into it emotionally, at all (which for me is the ultimate high, and I’ve tried most highs) so it would never appeal to me on a meaningful level. I was still more than happy to get fucked up and do it though. But so many times I’m unsure why I feel the way I feel, so why shouldn’t I be unsure about my actions too? Especially when it’s something that’s momentarily gratifying.

But it’s Sunday, I must be off to cook dinner. But these few ideas dawned on me this weekend. And the more that time goes on, the harder all the guilt, the remorse, is to swallow.

Sidenote – I started a Twitter – follow me if that’s your thing  – @CassieAnonablog

~Cassie

I’d prefer not to

I think we all know what that’s from. Today marks one week since I caught my husband cheating. 

It’s difficult because choosing to be miserable isn’t healthy, yet neither is acting like everything is fine when so certainly it is not. 

Last night he told me I can face time him whenever I want, to prove where he is, and he wouldn’t find it controlling because he knows he has to earn my trust back. 

But of course, I’d prefer not to. I’d prefer not to have to. Besides, the one time he snuck out and fucked a stranger I was asleep for the night….so…..how can that stop him?

I know no one is completely one thing or another (i.e. If a spouse cheats there might be blame on both sides, but not always I guess), but my nature is to assign blame to myself. I wonder what would’ve happened  if I woke up that night and saw that he was gone. 

Maybe it was when in 2015 we decided to try having sex with other people. Or when I had a really long lasting tryst with a guy from grad school that was more or less a boyfriend in addition to my husband for almost a year, but I’m drawn to lost alcoholics so I got sick of his addict behavior (who else got to know addict behavior really well as a kid?) after awhile. I now have him blocked on everything because he would occasionally try to contact me and I was like…oh wait I thought you never paid me back the two times I bailed your DUI having ass out of jail but you bought yourself a PS4 and that when I said I didn’t want to hang out one weekend you said you needed to ghost me. Oh no. You do not speak to me with disrespect. I was literally the one good thing in this guy’s life (and even that was fucked because he was just my side chick) and he’s like oh I better knock her down a few pegs. Like ohhhhh no, no no no no, no.

Or maybe it was because like three months after I broke it off with grad school side chick (this was June 2016 if you’re keeping track) three times in the same month (November) my husband and I had a foursome. They all kind of sucked. If a guy is used to having condomless sex with his girlfriend,  he isn’t going to perform well when he’s drunk and stoned and trying to have condom sex with a stranger. With the second couple I did way more stuff with the girl. 

But that was last November, and we got burnt out on it. But I guess that level of depravity is something my husband still needs. I never liked it. It was fun in its own way, I didn’t feel like I was coerced into going along with things, but like eghhhhh I’d rather not, I’d prefer not to.

But my husband, he much prefers, I now gather. It’s probably what led to my intense anguish over the past week. 

But, I don’t know, I’ve always been an onward and upward sort, and like I said truth be told I’d rather not be 30 and divorced. And I was made quite unhappy by my lack of communication with my husband this and week. And I don’t have anyone else in my life who even comes remotely close to meaning as much to me. I mean I love my mom and best friend too, but I can’t make my mom leave her toxic, abusive marriage, and my best friend has her own life to live, my husband is supposed to be here with me. Which he is. Most of the time. 

I’d prefer not to have to deal with all of this, but that’s always the case no? So, since I’m here.
~Cassie