Crossing the Rubicon

I have stepped across the divide, swum defiantly & purposefully to the other side. I have crossed the Rubicon - I am 40. Although it feels odd seeing it in black and white, mentally I'm fine with it. I celebrated with the offspring. Tonight, we're off to eat and drink with friends before ending up in a club to dance like diseased monkeys. Ah, one of the many advantages of having been a teenage mother that the reactionary rag, the Daily Mail, forgets to mention!

I said goodbye to my thirties in style. D booked into a country house hotel and to continue the incapacitated animal similes, we fucked like crazed ferrets for hours. Then we went for a stroll round the grounds, laughingly considering patches of long grass for privacy and daring, had a drink, had a meal, and did it all over again.

The last month has been an extended dry patch. Holidays interfered with our usual arrangements, which was tortuous. I'd forgotton how randy I get in the sunshine and there was nothing I could do but lie semi-naked on the sunlounger and fantasize. So a proper reunion was highly anticipated. I'd had the chance to warn / titilate him with tales of my near all-over tan, hard fought through sessions of topless car-washing, gardening, pool-cleaning and shed painting. 

I was starting to get anxious that the tan would fade before it had the chance to be shown off, but I was able to parade; naked, laughing, brown and blushing for my lover. I told him that I hadn't been able to sleep the night before through anticipation, but I'd solved the problem by fantasising that he was licking champagne from my breasts. So he obliged for real. 

Its soooo pleasurable to touch, feel, stroke, rub my cheek against his stomach, feel his cock in my cunt, his teeth on my nipples. To touch someone, to be touched. To fuck and be fucked. The end of my thirties was spectacular. Can my forties live up to it?

Six Month Check-up

Looking back over the blog, I thought it might be worth doing a mid-year review to follow up from my New Year's Eve post. But its all so damn good! What a difference 6 months has made. From feeling trapped, defeated and negative, I'm now feeling positive, vibrant and alive. Ok, I'm not a grinning sunbeam every moment of every day, but then, would you want to hang out with someone who was? Or ring the local funny-farm and advise them to bring their biggest net?

So here we go - Midsummer Joy

Emotional
Living in my own space and skin, occasionally lonely but pretty content. Having an affair with that married man, but as long as it stays within its boundaries, all is good. I know where I stand and as long as I know when my next shag is coming, I'm fine. Involved enough to be edgy when I don't know where he is when I was expecting to see him at work and he's elsewhere. Involved enough to not particularly be interested in actually sleeping with anyone else, but not so hung-up that I spend my weekends & evenings pining. Yup, could be a LOT worse.

Professional
Brilliant! The shake-up in my personal life has left me feeling so much more positive and in control of my life and this has been reflected at work. My boss and I are getting on better. I bounce around like I'm walking on air, and I get noticed. I've been approached by the director of another function to transfer to his area to bring my unique blend of skills with me. Just need to negotiate a payrise now.

Family
One darling is living at home, and we're having such fun. Its so relaxed, we never row. She cooks, I shop, its no hassle. She says I'm the best flatmate she's ever had. Well, if you will hang out with born-again Christians, don't expect to be asked out down the pub too often. The other one is too far away for my liking, but she's doing what she wants and is pushing her way through life in the direction she wants to go. I can't help worrying, but then that's my job as a mummy. She's great. 

Hobbies
Bugger the gym - not been near it this year. But I go out walking most Sunday mornings with some friends. Much more civilised. And I've joined a trio to play classical music, and am investigating joining a folk group for general laughs.

The future
Well perhaps that Ayn Rand was on to something. I have indeed turfed K out, sprog minor has moved in and its even better than I dared hope. My indian summer of whoring about is available to me if and when I want to explore that option. Talking of which, went out last night and bumped into Cider Man, (he of my February shinannigans) who was very keen to give me his number. Meanwhile, although I can't afford Australia, I shall be visiting my sister in SA later this year. So no longer stuck. I have options. I have control. I have a big smile. I have a hangover.

Wants and Needs

The secret to contentment is to understand the difference between Wants and Needs, apparently. A number of books have been written on the subject, not least Affluenza, by Oliver James which warns of the difference from a material perspective. But how does this play with emotions - which do we need, and which do we merely want? Is the question even valid? Personal fulfillment suggests that we each have a "right" to all the positive emotions, and shelves of self-help books suggest that we can insulate ourselves from the bad with the right "positive mental attitude".

But where are the boundaries? Is it right to pursue your emotional wants, to elevate them to needs, regardless of the pain it causes others, or ultimately yourself? Or are they the same thing? My heart was wrenched reading this blog-post. I'm sure there are those that would condemn S for willingly involving herself with a married man - regardless of the heartache she could inflict on the wife and on herself. But how can the hardest heart not weep for her? To fall in love with someone unavailable is one thing, but to want to be with the man you love, comfort and nuture him, bear his children to fulfill your biological destiny is much closer to a need - sex and procreation are as much a basic human motivation as hunger & thirst. To have found the love of your life, only to be told he would rather live a half-life with a woman who does not satisfy him is surely the ultimate slap in the face. Worse - surely it is taking the very core of you and shredding it, trampling the pieces into the mud?

I suppose I am feeling wistful after reading this article. Am I alone in reading this article on an American married couple that decided to have sex every day for 101 days and be astonished that the response from her friends was so negative? I crave some sex, some affection, some tenderness, touch, trust, intimacy, to "sink in, trusting, to their pillowy ephemeral depths and to whisper, in the dark, to the comfort of flesh" as Z so beautifully puts it. Such a fundamental need, such a seemingly unachievable ambition, a want - the pursuit of which eliminates any chance of contentment.