Farting, Fucking & Frivolity
Heeeeeey, folks! I’m back! I’ve been away for a little while with some blog-related drama (WordPress deleted me and then brought me back to life), but I have so much to tell you. I have BUCKETLOADS of stuff to tell you.
One Ball and I … we finally said the L-Word to each other. Yes, peeps, we are in love! It was Sunday the 13th of January, after five months of dating, just a casual afternoon of me doing some work stuff and him texting me from his military base, and it just popped up. Well, ish. We used red love heart emojis in place of the REAL L-Word because neither of us wanted to actually say it the first time via text message, but those big red love hearts are there. We’ve sent them to each other. And there is absolutely no confusion over what they mean.
He’s been on leave for the last week or so (while I’ve been blog-silent), following a vasectomy. I’ve turned into a proper little doting girlfriend, taking care of him when I’m not at work, and totally restraining from sexual activity. Boners for him are quite uncomfortable at the moment, so we’re having to do everything in our power not to make them happen.
But he cuddled me all night, took me to work in the morning and then picked me up again in the evening, and even held me close one night after I woke in a sweat from a particularly bad nightmare. I get them a lot sometimes, usually at the most inconvenient of times, but we’ll talk about those another day. I want to talk about One Ball some more for just now.
I’m head over heels in love. Completely and utterly besotted with him. Even without the sex and with all of the lazing around at home while he recovers from his operation, it’s been perfect. I was on my period and not even that was enough to come between us. He handled my mood swings like an absolute champ. I even farted for the first time in front of him. By accident, admittedly, but it still happened. We even decided to change our relationship status on Facebook, from single to in-a-relationship. You guys, it’s happened. I’m moving on. No, wait, I’ve MOVED on. Not just from Big Love but also from My Mr. Grey and The Lapdog and every other guy that’s been taking up too much space in my head lately. One Ball and I had discussed changing our statuses a few times, but I was mostly worried about the reaction I’d get from My Mr. Grey. For some reason, I’d been super nervous about telling him. But if he’d wanted me – *really* wanted me – he wouldn’t have made it so difficult for us to make it real, would he? I put it in front of him, on a silver platter. All he had to do was grab it and said yes. He couldn’t do that … so I moved on. I know it’s the right thing to do. I just don’t know why I feel so fucking guilty about it.
But it’s all out there in the open now. Everyone can see it. It’s done n’ dusted.
Bestie wasn’t happy about it, of course. He’s made his views about my new relationship very clear. He thinks we’re moving too fast, jumping in with reckless abandon, blah blah blah. I see his side of things. I do. One Ball has lied and fucked things up a few times. But Bestie has no idea how I feel about One Ball, or how One Ball feels about me. Or how far we’ve come since those lies and upsets.
And then there’s some bad news …
Of course there is. Because the course of my love life could never just run fucking smoothly.
*breathe in, breathe out*
One Ball might need to go to The War Zone and we might get a definite answer this week and if it’s going to be happening then it’ll happen really fucking soon. There, I said it. The first thing he did when he found out about it was call me – and that’s a really great thing. It’s good to be a part of his decision-making, but it leaves me in such a shitty place. This isn’t my first military relationship. I was married to a guy in the army. I went to The War Zone myself. Never in a million years would I let the situation get in the way of how I feel for him … but this is exactly why I swore to myself that I’d never date a military person again. I cried myself to sleep the night I found out about it, and I’m not even really sure why.
But if he leaves, he’ll be going for a whole six months. We haven’t even been together for that amount of time yet, and when he comes back, we’ll be celebrating our one-year anniversary. but will it really be like our one-year anniversary? All we’ll have had is stolen phone calls when the communication blackout isn’t on, plus the occasion bluey sent back and forth. Have we actually been together for long enough to survive that? If he does end up going, our relationship is about to turn really serious, really quickly … and is that what I really want right now?
