“You deserve more than to be alone,” he said…not realizing that his presence made her lonelier than being single and sexless. Yes, the passionate nights full of deep kisses, slow strokes and tender caresses made her feel good. And she would never complain about the hair pulling, leg trembling and endless orgasms…but after all that was over, it just felt like she was alone…in a dark and dank empty room.
This is no relationship, she often thought. This isn’t satisfying or fulfilling. And then they would share a moment, always intimate, often sexual but sometimes not…and that moment would make her brown cheeks blush red and give her hope once again. Maybe there’s a chance. Maybe I won’t feel pathetic and alone this time.
So they’re back on the tracks for another ride. In her defense, when the ride is good, it’s amazing. No hyperbole. The good times are everything she’s ever imagined. But when it’s bad, it’s…lonely, unfulfilling and plain sad. If the good times were just a little longer, she’s positive she could handle the bad ones. But the inconsistency makes her head spin…it’s exhausting, and she just wants some steadiness…a little reliability…to be regular. Is there a fiber pill for this relationship? I mean, if fiber keeps my bowels regular, certainly it can keep this shit regular? She laughs. Silly idea…but she really is looking for a solution.
At the end of the day, being alone isn’t what frightens her. But settling for being lonely with him in her bed terrifies her.