(Oh God, don't read today.)
It's my problem and so I had to drop it. And now I'm confused because he picked it up again. And no one is going to understand very much of this entry. It isn't for you. It's for me.
Down to the earth I fell
With dripping wings
Heavy things won't fly
And the sky might catch on fire
And burn the axis of the world
That's why I prefer a sunless sky
To the glittering and stinging in my eyes
Last night Jacob checked the kids, made sure everyone was asleep and then locked down the house and then he locked us in our room with the bottle of Stoli. I know how it sounds but it's not what it sounds like. It's a safe place to blow off steam, and to get a true barometer with no facades on my part. A personal one, just for Jacob.
Three things:
1-I have no tolerance anymore. Two shots and I was typing badly and had to stop working, even though I only sat down for a moment to dicker with a new idea. Two more shots upstairs and the world was my best friend. I'll give you anything.
2-When I'm drinking, I have no inhibitions (see #1). If you have wronged me you'll hear about it. If I have concerns, you'll hear about it. If I have needs, oh, man, you'll hear about it.
3-Alcohol no longer dulls my emotions, pain or any other ones. That was the one he's been waiting for. And he got it.
It's been a while since I wrote about our sex life. Don't cringe, okay, it's been one of the most difficult aspects of our relationship. We've run the gamut of therapy, experimentation, hell, humiliated each other and become so disillusioned we had resigned ourselves to one way only (his) and nothing more and god forbid Bridget asks for anything that's forbidden lest the spell be broken and he walks away from me.
I gave up under duress. Some things he would acquiesce to, but the majority of it has gone and it's never coming back and I'm forced to just let it go and it hasn't been easy. I meant to share it, I did. The continuation of Jacob's efforts that began that weekend he drank too much. An odyssey begun in earnest. He tried and we failed.
And last night was a test for Bridget. A test to see if when I was three sheets into the atmosphere would I rebel and fall back on my old habits, my brutal little demands that he can't stand for?
I'm not so sure anymore if Bridget's demons are stronger than Jacob's angels. He may have extended my faith to the point where I never thought it would stretch so far and I have succeeded in slightly corrupting him. Over the years I developed my own fetishes. Being held down, being restrained. My submissiveness. It has a charm all it's own. Jacob was more than reluctant to go there, but at the same time always thoroughly intrigued by it. He's a wildly adventurous, enthusiastic adrenaline junkie every place but one. Or he was anyway. He isn't quite so wild and I'm glad, honestly. I just wish my head would fall in line.
We've had arguments at four in the morning in which I have backed him right up off the bed and out the door with my tiny, desperate requests of him, we've had professional help, we've tried everything. I'm freaky, I have an abundance of energy for crazy vaguely violent sex. I instigated it in the first place with Cole as a way to turn something that was violent into something that was okay, something I could live with. I turned it and then surprised myself by liking it and I won't apologize for saying that because it's me.
Sort of like how a piece of chocolate cake is really really yummy but then ice it and it's heaven. Okay, now throw some very sweet sprinkles on the top and it's the most decadent treat you have ever had. That's me. I want the sprinkles when Jacob thought the icing was perfect. Don't misunderstand me, he's insane, incredibly gifted, patient, energetic and a lot more creative than I ever expected. Just not as sick and depraved as I want him to be consistently.
He's still worried I'm going to get hurt somehow. He's worried he's going to turn into Cole and wreck everything. The fragility with which I exist in his head knows no bounds, and so he reiterated how much safer I'll be if he's in full control of our experiences, based on our striking size differences (his 6'4" to my 5'0"). Better slow than sorry, he said, hating every moment of it, if only for a moment. My twisted brain heard full control, stopped listening after that and smiled very wide.
Trust me, just trust me, princess.
Last night I went with it. I didn't do anything he wasn't comfortable with and I didn't ask him to do anything I know he won't. And as soon as I let go of the past he stopped being so goddamned perfect and let loose on me.
I passed the test.
He said the hell with it and held me down and stopped being so gentle and then when we were finished he kissed me again, checking me all over for injuries.
And then Jacob smiled and drank his first shot and said,
You belong to me.
Because it's not perfect until it's ruined. Kind of like Bridget. He passed the test right there and then.
And then my head exploded.
