Woe is me!

Am I unhappy or do I just like being a damsel in distress? I'm not sure and I'm not sure if I want to know. Without the drama, the bipolar (to blame what I can't blame on the drugs), the "I'm such a mess" what do I really have? A good friend and I once talked about our depression and how it is such a part of our life that he likened it to a nice warm blanket. Another friend recently quit V and said he was sick of being addicted, to which I replied "I'm not ready to give up addiction just yet- some days it's all I have". My first serious boyfriend once noticed that I am very fond of looking at the past and thinking about how great things were back then- but never living in the moment. I went on to learn that in dime store psychology we call this roseyintrospection- as in looking at the past with rose coloured glasses on. When my shrink and I decided to come up with positive affirmations one of them was "stop and smell the roses" which I honestly rarely do. I do have a bank of warm, fuzzy memories that I go to sometimes, if you take a left at the door labeled "Courtney's erotic material" and zig zag down the hall you will find it across from the closet containing my saddest memories. I opened up the sad ones once for a shoot with Johnny Flamethrower in which we wanted to do something tearful and sexy. However, it quickly turned to blubbering and wailing and he had to stop shooting to comfort me. We did publish a post tear pic called "after the tears" but it wasn't the sexy, Natalie Portman in Closer that I had hoped for. I like all of my memories but I would love to lock out some of those forever. I had one pop in my head that is sad but because my sis in such a great place it doesn't crush me like some of the others.

My oldest neice was 2 and a half and my youngest was a few weeks old. I was leaving the doc after my first pre-surgery physical (this was pre implant so I was still an A cup. that's an awful memory in itself!). I called her on my way into work and she casually mentioned that she was getting a divorce. It hit me worse than any failed relationship of my own ever has and ever will. I sobbed like a baby while my sister had to tell me through her own tears not to come over crying bc Sophia would see us crying and be upset and confused. (Sophia- 2.5) She was so strong and I was so sick over the whole thing. How could this happen? Our parents are still together and I always thought she would have her own fairy tale. Then I felt guilt. Why didn't I pick up on this? Is this karma for all of the things I've done?

I called in sick to work that day and arrived at her place kind of shocked and dazed as she was. The rest of the day is pretty fuzzy aside from the two of us trying to figure out what to do. I had tapped out most or all of my bank account helping her in the past and was about to drop my last 5k on tits. Our dad was starting radiation so we didn't want to freak him out. She couldn't get child support without a divorce without a divorce lawyer without a retainer. We pulled into the local coin and gold (which we thought as a step up from a pawn shop) and I waited with the kids while she went in to find out how much they would give her for her ring so that she could pay rent. I'm pretty sure it was about 800 bucks but I'm not sure if she sold it that very same day and I've never really talked to her about it since.

Now I know why the caged bird sings...

Sorry, I know that isn't original but I always thought she was a genius for that. Anyway- that popped into my head the other night when I was having a very lusty session with S (age 26). I thought "now I know why women become cougars!" because after having sex with ages 37, 28, 30, (sun, tues, wed,) the sex with S was surprisingly refreshing despite his young age. He and I have gone back and forth so many times and one of my main complaints about him is his lack of sexual creativity. I know he has hangups (and a giant JESUS tat on his back) but I had given up on him and ended our affair for the umpteenth time in the past year and a half. Thursday was different though. I showed up with a full tummy, a buzz and immediately undressed and requested a towel so I could shower. We started kissing (which I really don't like to do, especially with him bc he is a smoker) and I found myself getting pretty turned on. Something was different. HE was different. He would gently tug at my hair or squeeze my ribcage (which is actually one of my fave features bc of its prominence) and with his perfect 6'5" frame he was finally living up to his potential.

After my shower, I asked him to come to bed (it was midnight and I work at 8 and knew I still had to go home in the morning) and we were once again pawing at each other as if it were new. I kissed his tummy and admired his perfect muscle definition (yes- the man V), he gave my tits the usual attention but coupled with the type of hard sucking and nibbling of my nipples that turns me to mush. He is not a guy that really likes getting his cock sucked (HANGUPS) but he relaxed a bit and let me go to work for a bit which in turn got me all the more aroused. When we were both ready for actual intercourse, he went to pull me on top but instead I assumed the doggy position and in he slid. I had also forgotten how nice and thick he is and as though he read my mind, he held onto my hips and gradually increased the speed and force of his thrusts until I came. He always pauses to kiss me after I cum, then we start back up and this time he was pulling out new tricks; switching positions and keeping things very erotic and dirtier than usual. Because he holds back, when he let a few moans escape I was done for and came again. Things are blurry after that- I know he eventually came and all that good stuff but I really just wanted to relive that tryst again.

Ouchy

My feet are killing me- or shall I say "my dogs are barking"? A day out in the racy field of copier sales (or lack thereof) in my sensible 4" Jessica Simpson pumps has left me with the gait of a 96 year old woman and lower back pains which always make taking more V justifiable.

Came home to an eager Giovanni, who cleaned his plate for the first time in ages. It was fucking 9 lives special edition or some bullshit that my mom gave me in case of emergency. (Emergency being that I am behind on every bill but Gio musn't go a day without dry and wet food) Turns out that he prefers it to his Fancy Feast- what a lowlife!!!

Last night- started crying while out to dinner with David. I held it back and asked to change the subject when he asked about my job (money is not fun to discuss with someone who makes 4x in a month than what I've made in the last year) but this resulted in being called Debbie Downer by him. I see his point; no one else's problems are that fun to hear about so after I got stoned with him, clogged his toilet (heavy dinner, oops), overflowed his toilet, plunged his toilet, cleaned the bathroom floor, washed the bathroom rugs and took a long hot shower, I made it all better with a bit of fellatio followed by my riding him and tiny o for me but what sounded like a decent O! for him. Then we did the after-fuck shuffle, which I have mastered as to avoid post coitus semen spillage. I go onto my back and take him with me then QUICKLY get mopped up or off of any porous fabric.

K- that's all for now, gotta get in a quick workout and buy snacks for date with Colleen.

3.24.09

Today, not sooo exciting. Spent the night at J's which was nice, though. Lots of "I love yous" and he held my body next to mine which was very comforting. A few times I even thought I might still be alive. I arrived late last night and was on my usual v cocktail, of which I am taking more and more of just to numb the pain. Seeing him was nice but the novelty and excitement wore off as it always does. We had violent sex, then loving, violent sex and I have bruises on my hips where he squeezed so tight while he thrusted deeply into me. My fave part of being a woman is being able to be completely defiled and left whimpering in a soggy mess of my own cum.

Sunday...

Wow. Blogging will be an interesting way for me to write in a much freer form than my journal.

Today- I awoke near 2 with a sore nose from all of the "allergies". Then, I rummaged around for food- in the form of 2 pop tarts.

more to come.