Man Candy Monday ...

Been quite a while since I did one of these, a gratuitous beefcake post, but is is dreary and depressing outside.  I need a silly grin.  Besides that, I just discovered this actor (thank you, Criminal Minds!).  I need to rent Apaloosa this weekend :o)

Folks, I give you Timothy V Murphy, aka Ian Doyle from Criminal Minds, or Vince from Apaloosa, or ... you get the idea.

There's just something about those eyes ...  I saw him described somewhere as an older, grittier version of Viggo Mortensen, with a touch of Ed Harris.  Whatever it is ... it works :o)

Sunday Confessional

I would like to take today to clear up a little misconception that a number of people have about the relationship between Sebastian and I.  Then I am going to muse a little about why I hesitate to correct people when they make this assumption, why I feel slightly embarrassed.

When I go visit Sebastian, I sleep in the guest room.

That's right, we are not having sex.

People who know me well might need smelling salts right now, since I do admit that I have a "healthy appetite", and in previous relationships I have been fairly quick to jump into bed.  I am not saying that's why they failed, but I do think it may have affected my judgement, and definitely taken the "getting to know each other" phase down a different path.  I also have some things from my past that makes sex give a cretain flavour to my overall behaviour in a relationship.

For Sebastian's part, he admits he was "a bit of a tramp" when he was younger, and his marriage was, well ... odd right from the word go.  He didn't exactly go into it with his eyes wide open. He may have been distracted by other things.

We had a lot of time to talk, to get to know each other's personalities, learn how each other think, and share our hopes, dreams, issues, and morals while he was in the sandbox.  Despite the distance and logistical challenges, we actually managed to have many really, really great conversations. 

Since he has been home, we have spent a decent amount of time physically in each other's company, and text regularly through out the day, every day, including when I get up, coffee breaks, lunch, after work, and good night texts.  Heck, the boy even texted me the other day to tell me he was going to be a bit late getting home from work.  (We live 500 km apart.  What, did he expect me to keep supper warm??)

I admit there are times when the sexual tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife.  I cetainly occasionally let my mind wander to the "what if" stage.

For us, for both of us, this is the right way to proceed for now.  To be valued as a person, to really get to know a man I am not sleeping with, and have them like me anyway, is quite a new thing for me. To feel so solid in the fact that his love for me is based on who I am, not what he "gets from me" in a physical sense, has taken some getting used to. I think it is, to a degree at least, the same for him.


Sex will be the right thing to do at some point.  S has already said he won't "make the mistake again of marrying someone he hasn't lived with", and for both of us sex is an important part of a relationship.  A part, however, that neither of us is ready for at this point, mentally and emotionally.  Although I honestly think I have less baggage on this point than he does.

I don't think it makes us any less committed to each other.  I don't think it makes our relationship any less real, any less loving, or any less important to either one of us.

But it does, often, embarass me to admit it; because, I think in society's eyes, sex makes a relationship "real", gives it legitimacy.  I feel like I will be judged, that we will be judged, based on our choice.  I know I shouldn't care about that, but sometimes is is just easier to let people jump to their conculsions, and not correct them.

Interestingly, I have shared this little detail with a few other people before now, and two other military wives I shared it with both said that their early relationships with thier husbands followed the same path.  I don't know if this is another commonality to folks that wear the uniform*, or just a comonality in the people who seem to be ebcoming part of my social circle at this turn in my life.

*trust me, I know there are a lot of "tramps", male and female, in uniform as well

I have no doubts about what we have, and I know I shouldn't let the fear of other's judgements make me uncomfortable about the choice we have made. For the record, S is not embarassed at all, and will be quite blunt if asked.      Maybe this is my "practice run" at becoming more comfortable with being proud of our choice, as opposed to embarrassed. 


And please, those of you who throw the occasional innuendo into your comments, don't stop - they make me laugh, they don't make me uncomfortable.  I just wanted to be completely honest today on this topic.

About my booty...

I carry a bit of extra weight.  I like food, I admit it.

Unfortunately, none of the extra weight is on my butt.

Although well endowed up top, genetics and years of martial arts have left me with flat, boyish hips and a flat butt.  The booty issue has been reinforced a few times lately.

I mentioned earlier the shopping trip to Old Navy, and the lack of booty lifting that occurred when I tried on their much touted booty-lifting jeans.  And TW's crack that they needed at least a base to work with, I couldn't expect miracles.

I bar tended last night.  I also desperately need to do laundry.  Instead of my usual black jeans, I ended up bar tending in a pair of black dress pants.

The bar tender I replaced stayed for a drink or 2, and to listen to the Karaoke.  She kept telling me to hike up my pants at the back - they were slipping down, ruining the line of the waist band, and making my butt baggy looking.  Sigh.  She actually said my butt was flat.

A couple of folks (ladies) sitting at the bar picked up on it, and all I heard for the rest of the night was the fact that I have "no ass".  One of the ladies (who I had never met before, and had a laugh like Fran Dreschler, bless her soul) told me I was "Pretty enough to get away with it, but (you) really have no ass".  The man with them wisely kept his mouth closed, and just drank his rye & ginger.

No not only is this a problem because it makes my pants fit funny, and cause me discomfort when I sit on hard surfaces, but it is a negative to me when I belly dance as well.  I have posted before about the need for some voluptua on a dancer.  Especially with "hard" moves, when you come to a hard stop on a hip lock for example, you need some jiggle at the end of the move, to make the embelishments on your costume dance.  You also get a much nicer look from rounded hips, and a rounder bum.

So I was back in the gym today.  Tring to create some booty.  Baby needs some back.  I see a lot of squats in my future ....

Wish me luck on my quest.

Letter to my Wolf

I have been having a rough couple of days.  Between the Wolf being on HTLA without me, and a few other things ... I am having a hard time staying positive.  A lot of people, including some of the Wolf's family, are telling me to stay strong, that he needs me to be his rock, his safe place; he needs me to prove that I am not the other women in his life, that he can trust me to be here ... but how long can you go without positive feedback and encouragement?  They say to wait until the end of summer when he returns ... but by the time he does come home, who will I be?  Will I have lost myself?  How much longer can I stay like this, grasping at crumbs he may drop me, followed by weeks of pushing me away?

~~~

That was not the introduction I intended to write, but it is what poured out, and I am going to leave it there ...

I wrote the letter below to the Wolf just now.  I haven't mailed it yet, and am not sure if I will ...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am not sending this to you to provoke a reaction, to make you feel bad, or to elicit any sort or promise or response. While I hope you actually read it, I know I have no control over that. I am sending it because I felt I needed to say these things, to be true to myself.



A year ago was in (the states) with you, and finished falling in love with you. The next step in a relationship that had been building its foundation for over 20 years. We had a great week, I thought. We were good together. We talked about the future, made plans. You even made me go into a jewelry store with you to tell you what I liked and what I didn’t. A year ago we were excited about the future, the possibilities, and exploring them together.


Five months ago you dropped a bomb on me. We had talked the night before about the things we were going to do while I was out (at your base) with you. You started the conversation on Monday night by telling me you had leave to burn up, that you could spend the whole week with me. Then, within 5 minutes, you were telling me you didn’t want me to come out and see you before you left. You said not only you didn’t love me, you never had. You said that when you talked about a future with me you must have been drunk.


I almost let that destroy me. I spent a lot of time in a very bad place, mentally. But with time, a lot of work, support of good people, and a lot of reflection, I think I am back to a place where I will be OK, no matter what happens.

Through it all, I have continued to love you like I have loved no one else in my life.

A lot has happened in the past year, and as I write this you are (on HTLA) , hopefully having a wonderful time, and also maybe finding some peace, and a chance to think about your life, and what you want from it.

I will continue to love you with all my heart. I may get hurt, but I will be true to who I am. I have spent too long in my life living up to the expectations of others, doing what other people want me to do. This is who I am, and I will honour it.

I kept saying to you that I needed to know I occur to you. I see know that the gifts you bought me, the things I so ungraciously always accepted, meant that I did occur to you. I am sorry for how I always reacted to the gifts.

You say you are zen and you live in the moment, but you push me away because of “what ifs” far off in the future. You say you live in the moment and don’t borrow trouble or worry about things that “might” happen, and then you shut me out to avoid “potential drama”, and me “waking up 2 or 3 years from now and realizing I’ve wasted all this time”.   You say I am different from the other women in your life, yet still punish me for things they have done to you.

You told me you didn’t do the “typical” pre-deployment pull away that the literature warns about, but you emotionally discarded me before you left. And that’s what hurts the most. I can accept that you are physically far away from me, that you have limited access to communication. But the distance you have created between us mentally and emotionally is what has hurt me so much, what nags at the corners of my brain when I can’t sleep.

You will understand if I am confused sometimes by your words, and choose to look at your actions instead. And you actions tell me that you did love me, that you do care for me, and that there is still hope.

The thinking, the meditating, and the work I have done since you “dropped your bomb” on me the end of September have all led me to the same conclusion – we have a strong foundation, and I believe we can work through what has happened and build “us” up again. I honestly do.

I was seriously messed up by what happened at the end of September, but it forced me to take a step back and take a good long hard look at myself and my own actions. Part of that good hard look involved professional therapy. I freely admit I have some issues of my own, but I am working on them, and I don’t believe that they are insurmountable.

You told me in October that this was not about another woman; that it was about things you needed to work through for yourself. You didn’t, and haven’t, made me any promises about anything in the future, but you haven’t ruled out the possibility either, and neither have I. We did agree that if we found ourselves attracted to anyone we would let each other know. I just want to let you know that I am still committed to you; I honestly cannot see myself with anyone else. I felt with you something I had never felt before with anyone else I had been involved with. I honestly cannot imagine myself with anyone else. And it wouldn’t be fair to anyone else to only give them a small part of my heart, when it really still belongs to you – I would be living a lie.

I am still open to, and quite honestly hoping for, reconciliation, and a chance to try to re-build a relationship with you that goes beyond friendship.

I am still wearing the ring you gave me.


I worry about you. As I told you, I cannot turn off my concern for you simply because you tell me you don’t have feelings for me. I don’t worry so much about your physical safety, but I am concerned about … the peacefulness of your soul, your heart. I don’t know how to put in into words well.

I miss you. I miss you in the physical sense, but I was prepared to deal with that, and knew I would be OK. I miss you emotionally, and mentally; knowing you are there for me, the security of knowing that you care for me. Knowing that you had my back. I miss the reality of “us”, the security it gave me, the peace and the happiness it brought me. There are times I feel it still, I KNOW it is still there …

The door stays open.

Needs ....

Don't worry, Coffey, this isn't a post about sex. I know those traumatize you. ;-)

For Lent this year, I am giving up (or trying to give up) buying anything I don't NEED. I do give up something for Lent every year, more as an exercise in self control, to prove to myself that I can, than a religious sacrifice. (Although I am nominally Catholic).

Unfortunately, I am struggling more than usual with the definition of NEED. The Wolf says I think too hard. I am also finding it harder than I remember to not give in to WANTS.

Do I NEED to be buying things to send to the Wolf in his care packages? I am rationalizing this one in that I gave stuff up, he didn't. So I am not buying things for myself, I am letting this one slide.

TW talked me into going to Old Navy with her yesterday. They have all their jeans on sale for $19.99. Her argument was that I can't run around naked in Canada in February, and I really do *need* new jeans. Fortunately for my conscious, even the "booty lifting" jeans did nothing for my booty - seems they need at least a base to work with. So gotta head to the gym and create a booty ...

TW and I also went out for lunch. Her argument being I NEED to eat. I had given her eldest child a ride back to the city she currently lives in, and it was lunch time. But did I NEED Moxie's mosaic dip with tortilla chips, and a smoked bacon and cheddar omlette?

I NEED groceries. But do I need treats? Nacho Chips? Chocolate? Do I NEED ice cream to watch the Canada - US Men's Hockey Game tonight? Do we NEED rum & coke to go with the game?

It is easier to make decisions on things like the amazing Buddha wall hanging I saw yesterday. I can't get it out of my head. I really, really want it. But I don't NEED it. So if it is still there after Easter, all good, and if not - its not.

I NEED to put gas in my truck to do my job (and I do NEED my job). But should I be limiting pleasure trips, so I am only using gas for NEEDs?

I guess this is good, because at least I am thinking about everything I do, not running on auto pilot, and making conscious choices about my actions.

Now if I could only do something about that marvelous Catholic guilt ...

Thinking long and hard ....

Something happened last night that is causing me to take a long, hard look at everything in my life, and try to find some balance.

I was running all day with various things, life is back in full swing after the holidays.  I had a light lunch.  I knew I had a night meeting in another town to go to, and I planned on stopping and grabbing some supper.

(Interesting side note: I have also managed to misplace my daytimer over the holidays, which is causing me to panic a bit, since *everything* is in there - I know I have something important to do next Wednesday, but I can't for the life of me remember what it is ...)

On my way in to grab supper, an oncoming driver rounded the corner, and part way through his turn he let his wheel straighten out - putting him on a path directly for the driver's door of my vehicle. I don't know if he was reaching for a CD, eating while driving -- I have no idea.  All I know is that I had my vehicle mostly on the boulevard to avoid him; at the last second he "came to" and jerked his vehicle violently back into his own lane.  But he was mere inches from hitting me.  I pulled into a parking spot and got control of myself, before continuing on.

So, was it coming close to a serious accident that has caused me to ponder my life?  Nope.  All that made me think, consciously, is that I really need to tidy my living room in case someone else needs to go into my house and find me stuff.  Keep reading.

Regaining my composure had cut into my dining time, so I grabbed a take-out sushi box from the grocery store, and ate it in the meeting.  After the meeting, the president of the club, who is also a good friend, asked me about the Wolf and how he was handling the recent casualties (not well - more about that later).

I drove home after the meeting and noticed, as I parked, that the legion was still open; which meant my good friend TW was bar tending.  I could use a friendly face so I went over.

Seventy five minutes later I had 9 oz of Jack Daniels in me.

Twenty minutes after that the JD, the sushi, and everything else was *ahem* out of me again.

Now there are a few things that those of you who don't know me in real life should know.  I rarely drink, and even more rarely do I drink to excess.  I haven't been drunk in public since college, and even then over 3 years I was only drunk in public 3 times.  On average I get drunk once a year, on our annual cottage trip, surrounded by people I trust completely.  And I NEVER drink when I am upset, only when I am happy.  I have NEVER thrown up from drinking before; nor have I ever blacked out.  (I do, unfortunately, remember all of last night)


So what the hell happened last night???  This was so very, very out of character for me.  What has me so out of balance that I would react like this?  Why did I think Dr Daniels was the appropriate therapist?

I have no answers for these questions, but it is telling me that I need to look at my life, and how I am dealing with things.  I'll keep you posted.

Creepies (Fear Friday)

One of my bloggy friends does a "fear Friday", on the theory that confession is good for the soul.  I think everyone, or almost everyone, has things they are irrationally afraid of.  For me, it is spiders.  I have a complete phobia of them.

So of course, the Wolf keeps offering to send me home one of these: 

That would be a Camel Spider.  Their Scientific name translates to "Those Who Flee From The Sun".  I suggested garlic and a wooden stake.  Sgt Chimo reports that the preferred method is a flame thrower.

I made a face book comment about Camel Spiders, and another friend pointed out to me this lovely creature: Camel Crickets ( aka Spider Crickets, Sand Treaders).

Now I am normally fond of insects and arthropods, with the general exception of spiders, ticks, and centipedes (although I don't mind harvest men (daddy-long-legs) and I think millipedes rock).  But there are some thing in the world that just creep me out.