The Muse

**Note: This is a prologue to part 5 of my Strong Heart series of posts... if you haven’t read those.. some of my references may be lost to you.**

Before I begin this next part I should explain a bit about my feelings  and how it relates to some of my own personal kinks.

Way back when I was in sixth grade, I had a very close friend who introduced me to Dungeons and Dragons.  I could be anything... Do anything... My imagination soared. 

This close friend became my life-long Dungeon Master, if you will ... Or "DM" as the lingo goes.  He surrounded me with magic and faeries, and elves.... He created this little universe where I could satisfy my every whim.... And because he was secretly in love with me...He made a race of playable creatures...just for me...and called the race "Muse"; thus Storm the Muse was born. (I don't want to get too into detail about Storm...as she is the main character of a novel I'm working on.)

I probably didn't appreciate the sentiment then, nearly as much as I do now, but we would play for hours and hours....I'd stay on the phone late at night and allow him to weave his stories around my little Muse.... We would role-play. Innocent role-playing eventually turned into erotic role-playing.

Back when I was married to my first husband, and AOL was just a baby, TSR (the company that owned the rights to Dungeons and Dragons), had a free-form role-playing chat room in AOL.  You could go in and make a text based character and play.  I thought that this was the most amazing thing EVER! I signed right up! 

I soon discovered that many of the members on the site were there to do more than just play Dungeons and Dragons... They were there to make personal connections.  This is actually the site where I met "Liver-Man"; and thus began my deep love of erotic role-playing. 

The site and the company, went through many changes over the years.  Life took me away for spells but I always found myself coming back.  Probably searching to fill a void in my mundane world.  The company eventually relinquished association to what the site is now but some of the original members (like myself) still gather.

As it stands today, it is a place of hedonism and debauchery... Sex....Sex sex and more sex....and I absolutely love it!  Role -playing and sex.  The possibilities are limitless. 
I think In the back of my mind and heart I had been constantly searching for what I had with my former lover.  That's what kept me coming back. 

I eventually met someone new. 

Now I have to sidebar for a moment and explain,  I have a severely damaged "man-picker"; so sayeth my divorce lawyer.  My rose-tinted glasses tend to betray me.... Frequently.  I attract strays...alcoholics...jobless - do nothings...Probably in my quest to avoid finding someone cruel. 

Now that the sidebar is out. This new man seemed so sweet and protective and intelligent...and he truly is...but... He loves his booze.  He is also totally vanilla.  He won't even role-play with me.  I am not entirely sure what his purpose was for being on that site but after he got together with me, I can hardly even convince him to play just regular Dungeons and Dragons, let alone the kinky shit I enjoy.  The ironic thing was that we met by erotic role-playing a scene where I was two characters; I played two women (a werewolf, and a drunken sheep herder).  He said I "rocked his world" and had to know my name.  That was the one and only time we ever role-played. (It just sounds worse every time I read this over)!

I forced myself to overlook all that because I felt that I was somehow cursed and I needed to accept my fate.  That crazy love I felt with Mr. Liver was all in my head.  It was some sort of coping mechanism my brain created to help me deal with my abusive situation.  I'm still not entirely convinced of its genuineness.  How could something that fantastical ...be real? It just wasn't meant for me.  I had already learned many ways of being happy on my own.  I was content enough that as long as my chosen mate wasn't throwing punches (verbally or otherwise), I would be fine. 

He had been caring for his mother and she passed away.  His stepfather kicked him out rather suddenly and he didn't have anywhere to go.  I had only been seeing him for a few months at the time but I felt the urge to take him in.  Sigh

Three years later, I had suffered many drunken episodes of jack-assery.  He is not a mean drunk...he's just a freaking idiot.  He broke his own nose one night.  And for the love of God....He would never stop pestering me about little shit.  One cannot have a rational discussion with a drunk man who can't even complete a coherent sentence...yet he would persist in trying.  I'd have to leave the house.  He would drink for days. At least until there was nothing left to drink and no money to buy more. 

He had a job for a hot little second.  I think he's better off with his "house spouse" status because he would spend all his money on booze...go to work drunk...drink on breaks...Just writing this all out makes me wonder how in the nine have I lasted so long with this?

I started putting my foot down more.  I refused to allow the booze in the house or around me.  He would just go out to the shed... Or drink in the house when I wasn't home.  He really isn't an honest person  (although I haven't been honest with him, either. Kinda toxic).  

I understand that he suffers from anxiety, insomnia...probably a number of comorbid conditions but his choice of self medication really turned him into an episode of Jackass.  I found myself saying things like, "Please don't shave the dog when you're drunk." or, "Do you really think that fifth was a good idea before you start the plumbing project?" And my personal favorite, "The riding lawn mower should not be operated when you can't even get out of bed without falling."  And he wouldn't listen. ...

Why stay?  I just never had the heart to throw him out.  I care about his well being and I felt  and still feel like he is better off this way. I'm cursed and not meant for greater things...right?  Actually it has a lot to do with the difference between joy and happiness.  (More on that later).

I'm telling you all this so that you may have an idea of where I was in my mind and spirit when I met my most recent Dom and heartbreak number 2.

————————————

Coming Very Soon!

————————————-

I just realized... I probably shouldn’t write at 3AM and the finish when I’m off shift.  I just get loopy and disjointed.

I need to touch a few annoyances and I will pop it back up ... fresh and new... Maybe even shiny!  Ooooooh... I could add sparkles! Naw j/k

For your viewing pleasure:

Because I am a queen of overthinking... I just decided that this first heartbreak was actually a joint operation conducted by both my ex husband AND my former liver (tee hee).   This is why it was so very profound.  It took many years to heal.  

I never fell helplessly in love with anyone until a year ago. (*whispers* That’s 20 freakin years!!!)

Anyway... I have loved guys ... got married again (and divorced again!).  I had my two year open relationship with a switch ... whom I still adore to this day.  I also was involved with a narcissistic dom (it's lower case on purpose!) for 3 years ... I have a “Shit Pie” story I will post at a later time involving him.  None of these romances ever amounted to the depth of passion and emotion I had for liver-man (Screw you, autocorrect!!).

So now, I find myself healing... the best I can.  I almost feel silly because it was entirely online.  I don’t even know if I’ve wrapped my head around this one enough to talk about it with any kind of aplomb at the moment but... it just brought up all this old stuff that I’ve already shared.... So maybe when my mind is not racing .. I’ll share this as a separate issue... seeing as how my initial point has already been made.

Thank you for taking the time to read.

(I will eventually meander to my original point I had intended...about the broken hearts and being strong; not hard...yada yada yada.... promise!)

My husband did me a kindness that day.  I found closure and that was what I really needed.  

I didn’t have to accept all of the hell he put me through, but I could forgive him. I could remove all emotion attached to the situation because he was dangerous having that power.  I started to become cold.  I was almost afraid to show any compassion at all to him.  I knew the moment I would open the door... even just a tiny crack... he would exploit my emotions and try to manipulate me.  

He chased away what was in my heart and somehow felt he was entitled to whatever was left inside of it; picking up the shards like he was going to put it back together.  Everything will be just as it was ... never mind that second rate glue he was trying to use.

All I had to do was forgive him and move on.  Having the strength to gently take those shards from his hands and say, “Those are my responsibility. You go be the best person you can be and don’t worry about these shards. They are mine. Good luck.” ... That took some work but I made it.

Clarity... and moments like those... healed my heart. Eventually. 

I never fully got over that former lover (my autocorrect keeps wanting to type “liver” and it’s making me chuckle—-read it that way!)

I’m wondering if I should even proceed to the next broken heart story ... I guess I should because the point I was making was that even though your heart breaks, you can harm yourself far more by hardening it.  Let it be strong and flexible ... like a gymnast.  Any muscle can give under a loving touch... Stone will shatter beyond repair, if the blow is hard enough.  After my recent loss of my Dom,  I felt my heart hardening.  

This man, this lover... He was such a bard.  Probably still is, wherever he may be.  His tongue was like silk.  I’m not talking about his capabilities in oral satisfaction; I’m talking about his ability to seduce me with his words.  He had such an amazing mind. And the way he kissed me... I’ve never been kissed like that by anyone before... or since.  When I write erotica, it is his kiss that I use as my “go to” model for kisses.  

Anyway! Before I get swept away and distracted by thoughts... I fell helplessly in love.  I surrendered all to him and it was ... I really haven’t an adequate vocabulary to describe how amazing it was.

Time passed and I built up the courage to leave my abusive marriage.  My husband managed to contact my lover and everything went South from there.

My husband must have manipulated him into believing all kinds of horrible things. The alternative explanation is what hurts the most and is probably the realistic truth.  My husband tried to manipulate him, yes.  The truth of it was that he just didn’t think it was worth sticking around for.

In my mind at the time, that translated into “I wasn’t worth it.”  It still hurts just writing that out.  Naturally, I was devastated and this is where my heart shattered into a million little pieces. I was not very graceful about it. I lost my dignity.  You could say I went a little bat-shit crazy.  I am not proud of my psychosis during that time, but I’ve moved on.  

Our last night together, it had been some time since I had seen him.  Just having him hold me for a moment, my knees nearly collapsed beneath me.  I couldn’t speak, think, eat... the whole night.  I don’t know if he was a Dom but he was definitely dominant.  I wasn’t really involved in the lifestyle at this point and had no idea what a sub was but I knew I needed him to take over; to have control.  

He gave me some of his boxers to change into because initially we were just going to watch movies together.  I undressed in front of him (per his suggestion)... and the boxers did not stay on very long.  He would have honored my limit... but he also knew what I really wanted.  To submit, to him, and to my desire... which were one in the same. Over and over... all night.

He left in the morning and I didn’t hear from him...For weeks.

When I finally did... it was a message... an email that said for me to never talk to him again.  No reason given really... just that was it.  

I later discovered all the communication between my husband and him and even read the emails back and forth.  I really can’t decide if it made things better or worse.  It made me want to vomit.  At least I had closure.

———-to be continued.... again——-

(I really don’t know how long this story will be!  Thanks for reading though!)

My heart has been broken on two occasions.  I’m almost disappointed it hasn’t been more.  The experience was transformative. Both times.  I almost don’t want to talk about the first experience but I suppose I don’t really mind.  No one will beat me up as much as I’ve already been beat up about it by myself and otherwise.  I own my imperfections and hug each of them.  

I was married very young to a very controlling, yet vanilla guy; type “A” personality (I’m not even sure what that means anymore, it’s become such a label).  He always used to say, “I’m not a pessimist, I’m a realist.” Completely opposite of myself in almost every way. I’m a dreamer, an artist, a romantic... but a little more practical than he ever imagined... Well maybe not in my early 20’s.  I was very prone to following my heart.  I threw caution to the wind at every opportunity!

I think he was jealous.  Actually he was overly jealous about a lot.  He would get angry when other men would admire me.  Instead of directing the anger toward those guys that were staring, he would turn his anger toward me because I was doing absolutely nothing to deter the attention.  I “dressed too slutty” like I wanted it.  I wasn’t “acting like a married woman”.  

I soon became a detestable whore in his eyes.  He would belittle me around his friends, around my friends, and around his family.  Now I understand there are some who may enjoy a little humiliation but this man was malicious.  I felt worthless.  My feelings meant nothing to him.  You might think that this is where my heart broke but if it did... I didn’t notice.  

I learned to loathe this man.  I just wanted to get away from him but he held me emotionally hostage with our children we had together.  I dealt with my depression in probably the worst possible ways I could by seeking comfort from another man.  

Maybe in the back of my mind I somehow thought this guy was going to don shining armor, climb atop a magnificent steed and carry me away to a better place.  Nothing could have been further from the truth.  Maybe not literally!  Now... figuratively.... 20 years later and my face flushes and my heart races just as I’m writing this... thinking of why he figuratively carried me to “a better place”.  

——to be continued——-

I just wanted to share this because it is a poem that moves me so much. It speaks to me on so many levels.

—————————————————

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Oh, to be the ground upon which He walks

I hear each blade sigh with every noble step

Oh, to be the air that moves through His sensual chest

Dancing between those lips in elated flight

Oh, to be the light that kisses His sultry skin

How the sun drinks of Him for its brightness and heat

Oh, to be the pool in which He bathes

As the water would become holier, thus.