My week had a rocky start and just culminated into the craziness that it became. I felt like I was no longer living life, but it was living me, and screwing me, and beating me down, and not at all in a hot and sexy way.
By Thursday I was spinning out of control.
I got my first chance at de-stressing Thursday night. I was picking a fight with my husband, obsessing about a party we were throwing this weekend, yelling about having to clean the house, and complaining that I was tired.
He turned to me and said, "You have two options. You can come out and have a beer and wings with me and chill the fuck out. We can worry about cleaning tomorrow. Or you can stay home and pout and clean alone, but I am going out either way."
I am no dummy, I didn't want to clean anyway, so no way was I doing it alone!
We ate, we drank, we were merry. And I slept that night, so nice. I woke up refreshed.
And then Friday just tore me back down again.
I was teetering on the edge of lunacy. I could feel the tears threatening, welling up behind my eyes.
There are not enough hours in the day. I am not getting enough done in these hours. I am not feeling balanced, I am not feeling together. I am pedaling faster and getting nowhere.
Work has me in a panic. But then I come home to my husband, my rock, my love, my biggest supporter. And I snap at him and get grouchy and mope. He wants to take me out, we should go meet some friends. We should unwind! We should have some anal sex later.
Well, why the hell not? But I am feeling unprepared for this. We have been so busy lately our sexual encounters have been less of the planned, drawn out affairs they used to be and have become more of the 'wham bam, thank you ma'am' encounter.
Needless to say, not much anal action going on. So it's probably a good idea to put the butt plug in before dinner.
Yes, I said, probably a good idea. Turns out it wasn't. As we had to wait for a table, and then everyone was having a good time talking and catching up. We did not get home until three hours later, I was past the point of sexed up and hot. Now I was cranky, more irritable and more than a little uncomfortable.
Did I feel like having anal sex after all that? No. Did I feel like having any kind of sex? No. Did I feel like pouting, being angry at the world, curling up into a ball and crying, and ignoring my ever- loving and understanding husband? Yes, yes I did.
I sort of lost my shit and let some of the crazy out.
I took a shower and we were getting ready for bed and my husband wants to know am I okay now? So how do I answer? I cry.
The man was at a loss. He had tried all week to make things okay. He listened and tried to understand and tried to help where he could. He tried distraction, he tried plying me with my favorite foods, he tried mini celebrations for my newly released book. And where had it gotten us?
He pulls me into our bedroom, I'm still wrapped in my towel, still wet from the shower, and he says "I don't really want to do this, but I don't know what else to do."
And then my husband, the man who doesn't "get" the whole spanking thing. Who thinks spanking is only about sex. Who has been very open minded, but doesn't get where I am coming from. Who has been trying to understand, but really wasn't connecting the dots-
Pulls me across his lap and spanks me. Hard. And long. Until I am kicking my feet up and gasping. Past the point I feel like he has spanked me before. And I feel something inside me unwind. And I feel something open up just a little.
I don't think I really get it. It just is. And I am glad he doesn't want me to explain because it is unexplainable.
He wants to know then, as I am standing in front of him naked with my ass on fire. Am I okay now? Did that help?
Yes. Yes it did.
We had some sleepy, relaxed sex after that. The house got cleaned. The party happened. We had a great weekend.
I am still feeling 'right', and I am just so thankful for that.