I wish this was the hot post you (and, honestly, I) might have been hoping for.
Between work, family, and the trials of growing older, a lot has happened for myself and H as a couple, and as individuals.
We helped one another through loss -- a job, a pet, a family friend -- and we’ve grown both stronger and weaker for it. We’ve also celebrated success -- a promotion, a friend’s wedding, a new place -- and those things made us stronger and weaker as well.
There’s a lot of happiness out there, and in us. And a lot of sadness, too.
Over the past few years, we’ve learned a lot about ourselves. I faced the most crushing stress at work I’ve ever had, and I’ve learned to manage stress and my perspective more as a result. But it strained our relationship.
H and I moved into a new place and filled it with love, and I held her close when she lost one love, and then another. And again as we found the differences in how we wanted to live out the rest of our lives. And that strained our relationship even more.
And during the hot moments, the times where we played with fire and felt the desire and the danger and the euphoria of playing out our deepest fantasies in our heads and hearts... with one another, alone, in our new home... we found that we had drifted, slowly, in ways we should have known but hadn’t expected.
We loved each other very much. We still do. But people grow, and grow apart.
We stopped writing, we were busy with life. And maybe that’s why we didn’t see it coming.
Writing has a way of clearing up what’s in your head and heart. You put things out onto a page and you can’t deny them anymore: they’re there, they’re real, you’ve named them and now you have to deal with them.
Writing helped us figure out what turned us on the most. It helped us figure out where the limits were, and how to keep pushing them. Slowly. Oh-so-pleasurably slowly. Deeper, darker, until it all came out.
It was good. At times, amazing. At times, beyond words and beyond belief. I still treasure the memories. I still hold on dearly to the love she’s given me. It hurts that, at times, I took it for granted. And it hurts that, at times, she did too. But no relationship is perfect. We hurt because we love.
H and I played out a lot of fantasies together. We played with a lot of things over the past year, but didn’t invite anyone into our bedroom as we have before. We were busy, we were growing older, we had more important decisions to make. And we were tired.
H and I are still living together. We’re friends.
But we’ll only be friends. We won’t be living here together forever.
She wants a simpler life. She’s fond of small towns, of animals, of the fresh ocean air. She wants to surf, and climb, and fight. She wants strength and roughness in a man, someone who doesn’t care about details or schedules or keeping things clean, someone who has seen it all and cares about family and adventure above all else.
I would say all I want is her, and in some moments it’s true. And it hurts.
But I want her to be happy. I want her to have what she needs. Her excitement is my excitement, and her fulfillment makes my heart full.
We were never perfect. We argued over responsibilities, and perspectives, and many things. There were things we couldn’t compromise on. There were things we couldn’t give to one another. The way we arranged our relationship played a part in that -- we could be flexible, we could both get our fill from those experiences, and it worked for a while. But time changes things.
We’re older now, wiser. We know enough to know we wouldn’t last.
We helped each other through a lot, and we still care about each other very much. But we’re different. We no longer share the same dreams.
She’s single, she’s started dating again, and no longer wants cuckolding to be part of her relationship. She’s grown much more in the direction of a Dom/sub relationship, and is seeking that out. Her ex is no longer in the picture. She wants someone new. Someone she can spend a lifetime discovering. Just the two of them.
I’m a little lost, and heartbroken. We tried to make things work, but broke up a while ago, and I’m still getting over it. She’s here to help, but no longer wants anything physical or romantic. Like any loss, it hurts. It hurts a lot. I’m trying to be strong, and I do know I’ll be okay. We don’t own this place, and we’ll both move out eventually. We’ll have new things to look forward to.
I’ll always cherish the memories -- all the things we’ve felt and learned and lost along the way.
I loved her. And she loved me.
