~ When Love First Encountered Us ~

You are away
But my Love keeps flowing
In Your silence
My desire keeps growing

Have I lost my Love
Soul forever?
Or only for the time
It takes

To postpone what
Should flourish?
Should I fear?
Should I cry?

Shall I ignore
The inner promptings?
Within is a sensible
Self that knows

With trust of
One thousand lifetimes!
I am Yours

Then, Now, Later
But Now would be
A refreshing drink

Of water from the
Universe where Love
First encountered Us
Assigning the burden

We carry now
Too heavy for even
Two Hearts who Love
This much


Cougarlicious ~

What are You up to,
My sleek little Cougar
Slinking around
Watching me?

I see You with Your Eyes
On me, licking Your teeth
Are You hungry for me?
Do you intend to devour me?

Would You like to play?
To romp in the sun
Or laugh at the wind
As We intertwine?

Or will You hide again
In Your forest,
Valley, mountain
Or cave?

I catch Your scent
As easily as You catch mine
I know You are there
Will You come?

Ah, I will stay still as
You decide on Your own
To pounce!
Or not…

My warm, ferocious Cougar,
I am neither prey nor
I am simply here for You ~

A Hiatus from Love Indulgences

Have you ever heard the riddle, “If you have a red dog and a white dog, which one will grow?”

The answer, of course, is, “The one you feed.”


Well, you see, I created this blog not to lead you on, friendly followers, but only as my own processing space as I tried to release Her, but ended up telling Her about it, then using it to profess my persistent affections for Her, then used it to grieve Her, full circle.


And, as fond of you all as I have become–your writing, your comments and compassion, your good hearts and minds–I have to admit to myself that I post here still desiring response from Her. And as long as I have that underlying motive, I am feeding my desire for Her in all, which makes it quite difficult for me to be present with my “real” life, where I am a woman you know less about than what I reveal here. It also pulls on Her feelings, which is quite insensitive on my part.

I am sad to go, really. I’ve not written so many poems since I was that awkward tall girl in high school, so many years ago. This has been delightful… Loving Her is delightful…

<Ahem.>But, alas, if you knew 1) how much I truly miss Her (and you may have a sense of it, if you have been reading anything that has been posted here at all, but for a couple of poems on spiders and minivans), and 2) how posting here only challenges me to elicit some small response from Her, then you would understand why I must back away for a while. It is too painful, and too tempting, all at once. And November is simultaneously too close and too far away. (Sorry…only She will understand that last sentence.)

So, thank you for all of your support. Keep doing what you love. Feel free to browse around this blog. There are pages and pages of love, and my writing is not too bad most days. In fact, there is one story I had the best time writing which I will reblog shortly, to give it one last hurrah. It is one of my favorites, and forgive me for saying that I am rather proud of its silliness-with-a-point, even thought the point is no longer valid (and wasn’t fully valid when I wrote it–but it was still fun).

So, farewell, my unintentional blogger family! All the best to you. It is time for me to write less, release more.

And to You, Amada Minha, I will love you deeply every day, for always ~


Things She Said

She said to me,
Not demanding,
Only reflecting,
“I deserve to be cherished.”

Ah, Beloved Soul,
Do You know that You are?

She said to me,
Not accusing,
Only observing,
“You have me on a pedestal.”

Yes, Divine Woman,
On the pedestal of my heart!

She said to me,
Hungry, reaching,
Soul expanding,
“I love life, you know?”

Known from the start, Adventurer Butterfly!
And I will let You live it ~

Confessions of a More In than Out Bisexual Woman

I have read several blog posts recently about bisexuality, its stigmas, questions about it, the lack of understanding, and so forth. As a bisexual woman, I felt it was my civic duty to share with you my experience to give you one perspective of millions, I’m sure. Everyone has their own story about their sexuality, relationships, romance, etc. This is only mine.

I only accepted my sexuality after I met Her (my special friend outside of my marriage, for all of you just joining the conversation). We met online, then in person, but only established our “more than friends” relationship online later. There was no doubt I was falling in love with her, and very attracted to her. I had visited her, only as a friend, when she was here visiting family. We spent a weekend together, and I could feel something between us, but I thought it was because she was such a great person and we resonated in so many areas. It was only after she left for her own country that I noticed how much I wanted to talk with her constantly, and I was always thinking about her. I didn’t think it would go anywhere, except more friendship. She hadn’t even told me yet that she was lesbian. Then one day, she did. She could feel what was happening between us and wanted to talk about it. I denied anything at first, reminding her that I’m married, etc. She would have nothing to do with my denials, but that’s how strong the energy was getting between us. So I finally admitted it. I’m not sure what either of us were thinking at the time, we just knew what we were feeling. The next time she came to town, we had the most beautiful time together.

So that was the consummation of accepting that I am bisexual, but I have through the years been attracted to women, not always ones who were available to me. Being bisexual is a bit stranger than being straight or gay…Since I could blend in to the hetero mainstream, I didn’t think much about what I felt, except that those thoughts were probably not okay. No one talked about bisexuality when I was a kid, you know? I always would stand up against people talking bad about being gay, probably because of my own private feelings, but never applied that “right to exist” to myself.

I was mostly attracted to guys in high school and college; or, at least, those were the feelings I acted upon. The others I just tried to brush off. When I was 10 years old, there was a nurse at the Girl Scout Camp I attended. Her camp name was Birch and I had the biggest crush on her. She was the nurse and made announcements every morning. She had a sweet smile. My hands would sweat, and stomach flip every time I saw her. I shared in an early post that I wasn’t smart enough to hurt myself so I’d have to go see her. I’d probably be too shy anyway. When I was in college, I realize now I had a fan girl crush on Amy Ray of the Indigo Girls. I still do, actually. God, that woman is the perfect picture of hotness to me–my “type”–a little on the masculine side, but with definite femininity that shows through. I had a severe crush on my best-friend-who-is-also-lesbian, and we talked about my attraction to her when it was going on. I’m not her type, fortunately, so we just became close friends. I was married then, too. I’m not sure how I brushed that one off. I think I justified that I was misinterpreting the fun we had together, and how easy it was to talk with her.

I have always felt more compatible as friends with lesbian woman than with straight women. I’m a mom in the suburbs but can’t relate to other suburban moms. They are far too girly-girl for my taste. My experience has simply been that lesbian women are more interesting.

Even though I have only been with men before Her, my fantasy life has always been about women, with the rare exception. I read somewhere years ago that in advertising, women see women and put themselves in their place, understanding how she would feel; while men don’t. That is why there are more photos of women in ads in women’s magazines, and photos of women outnumbering men in men’s magazines. Women relate to women; men relate to how a woman makes them feel. Anyway, I brushed off my fantasies to that…but still kept them going! Nearly every time I have made love with my husband, I use my own fantasies to help me be with him. I saw an interview with Lady Gaga a few years ago, where she was answering the question, “What does your song “Poker Face” really mean?” She shared that it was because when she had sex with her boyfriend, she was thinking about women. Whoa! I’m not the only one??? That was the first time I ever felt that maybe something wasn’t wrong with me, that I was not repressed sexually, after all, and my fantasies weren’t a sign of some kind of mental illness or other sickness.  

I took a class in college on LGBTQ issues as an elective, thinking that, since I was such a goddamn accepting person, that it would be an easy class for me. I learned more for life in that class than any others. As well as myself, even if I didn’t admit it at that time. My instructor was lesbian and dating someone who identified as female-to-male (f2m). She disclosed a few of her own challenges with the process her partner was going through. When they got together, he hadn’t decided to become male yet. She fell in love with a woman, she shared with us, and isn’t attracted to men, so she was having a hard time accepting his process as far as their relationship went. She broke up with him by the time the semester was over.

Also during that class, we had a heated discussion about bisexuality and monogamy. Is it possible for someone who is bisexual to be satisfied with committing to one side of their attraction possibilities? In my self-righteous younger days, I argued yes, of course! It is about commitment, love, respect. I mean, if my husband wanted to have sex with someone with bigger boobs than me just because that is what also turns him on, no thank you! There is no difference!

Well, now that I am not a woman/woman virgin anymore, I can tell you that it is very different. Being intimate with Her was vastly different than being with a man. Part of my difficulties that I have oozed all over this blog the last five months is because I love being with her as a woman. I miss that a lot. I miss her in all, but that’s not what this post is about. I miss the softness of a woman, inside and out. I am having to let that go because of my decision to remain with my family. Yes, I love my husband, sex is good, he is a good person. But my fantasies about women continue.

My best-friend-who-is-also-lesbian said to me after hearing about my affair (and after offering me a toaster saying “Welcome to the club”), “You can’t unknow what you know.” And that is so true. If I had never been with Her, I wouldn’t know what I was missing. I could have continued to deny my thoughts and feelings as just “stupid fantasies”, and “if I was really faced with having sex with a woman I would probably not truly be interested.” But those days are gone.

That said, I still believe in monogamy, as many of you do. My affair wasn’t only about sex. If it was, I’d have no problem finding some local woman to have sex with whenever the urge arose. And, as I recently wrote to a new friend I found here, “It is still more a matter of love, acceptance and happiness with life that is important, and to achieve that, we all have to make choices, you know? And when we choose one thing, we close the door to something else. That’s life. And, sometimes our choices get made for us. That’s life, too. This is cliché now, but it really isn’t what happens to us in life that makes or breaks us, but what we do with those experiences.”

Thanks for reading. Thanks for your interest in one small story out of many billion that are out there.

I’ll Move Forward after My Coffee

Coffee in one hand. Phone in the other. Reading emails at breakfast. Yep, all the signs of heading back to work.

We had family game night last night, since the kids and I were too tired to put our clothes away yet. I felt like I was crawling out of my skin when waiting for others’ turns, wanting to obsessively check my email to see if She had responded in some way.

Nothing. Of course.

My husband and I didn’t even make love last night, even after not seeing each other for over two weeks. That is the luxury and the curse of being married for over two decades. It was fine with me. I would have just been fantasizing about Her the whole time, and that wouldn’t have been good to him, to Her or for me. We talked instead about how to protect our children from my dysfunctional relatives at the next my-side family reunion next year. My husband comes from a very small family, both nuclear and extended. I come from an average sized nuclear family with a huge extended family, barely half of whom I would ever want my children to meet. We have gone out of our way to miss family functions over the years. For my kids, I don’t mind looking like an asshole when it comes to their safety.

While making my coffee this morning, I thought about maybe sending Her flowers again. It was amazing the first time…A bouquet of roses arriving at Her office with a card in a foreign language that only She could read. It made 5,000 miles not seem so far, at least for a few days.

This time, the card could simply say, “I’m sorry for the pain I have caused You. You are too lovely to hurt.” And perhaps a more colorful bouquet instead of roses.

But why? So that She forgives me and sends me an email and We start talking again which will compound our feelings for Each Other and then I will have to say all over again, “Sorry, I can’t do this; but even though I love you with every cell in my body, heart and soul, the division and guilt are too much for me to handle day by day”?

No. Better that She feels that She can never forgive me. It would be easier on both of Us. There are people I greatly admire for whom leaving a marriage for their same-sex true love (not that sex is ever a factor in true love—not ever), but that is not in my cards this lifetime. I tried. I’m not sure I shared on this blog just exactly how close I came to leaving my family for Her.  

But I don’t feel like getting into that today. Today is about putting down reckless wishful thinking and moving ahead, an act that will allow Her to be free, too.

Vive la France! …Except, I Don’t Live There…

Ok, a break from the dram-o-rama poetry for today.

So here I am today, with my kids, hanging out because spouse is working. Well, actually, the kids aren’t even hanging out with me…they are doing their own thing in other rooms. It is our first beautiful day in a long time, so later I will take photos of the buds on the trees. She is busy, and We are confused–Ok, I’ll speak for myself–I am confused.

Maybe “unreasonable” is a better word for what I am  (and nicer than others that could be used to describe me).

I have securely duct-taped my inner, raging feminist and prude (can both be true simultaneously?) and am now dreaming of 17th Century France, where men and women would be securely married and have their true loves down the street, visiting regularly.

Really, it was a good set-up, if you think about it. Everyone was taken care of, every survival need met, every social stigma silenced, every booty call answered.

No one had to choose between their family and their lover, who was also often their Very Best Friend. Children’s lives weren’t disturbed by even the most cordial divorces. Spouses did not tire of each other’s antics, since all they had to do was get along, play their part, and keep their end of the bargain. 

Searching for an image for this post, I came across several articles on why having a mistress is good for a marriage. All the reasons previously listed here were part of the defense reasoning. Interestingly, all of these articles discussed men (French men, to be exact) having mistresses, not women having mistresses, or whatever the male counterpart to mistress is called. [Please leave it in the comments if you know…I’m curious. Lover?]

This is where the duct tape came loose on my feminist side. And what about women having lovers? [I’ll go with this until you give me a better alternative.]  Perhaps there was a double standard, and that was a reason for the lack of lovers for wives. But think about it…17th century daily hardships, woman married to self-important man, taking care of God knows how many children…plus a lover/one more individual demanding something of her? Yeah, I’m sure it happened, but probably not quite as much as we’d like to believe. 

Jump to modern day: I came across an article from PschCentral about polyamory, which is the hip word for “open relationship”. The article was about a couple for whom this seemed to be working. Both partners were bisexual (one male, one female), and they each had lovers come and go, sometimes living with them. As long as the other partner approved of the new mate, everything was good. 

And here is where the duct tape slips off my prudish side. No thanks! [Shudders.] If I wanted that, I would have made different decisions long ago. For me, love is for someone I am in love with, which–with the exception of a few years in college–is more of a long term situation. I never married thinking, “This is great, and someday I will find someone else who will help make this set-up ideal.”

I didn’t realize I was bisexual when I was first married, either. [See this previous post for more on that topic.] It never crossed my mind that I would be walking away from a side of me that would come to call 20 years later. 18.5, to be exact.

That brings me back to today. Here I am. There She is. If I started this blog today, I would rewrite each post I have posted here, from the beginning. Missing Her. Loving Her. Wanting Her. Lovely Her. Impossible Us.

My fantasy is that 17th Century France life, where She and I could walk hand-in-hand, disguised as Very Best Friends, able to write love letters to each other without a single eyebrow raised towards Us, able to go off in nature and have Our way with each other, walking home completely satisfied and ready for the next move in Our individual lives. The Kids Are Alright [Have you seen that movie? You should.], no boats are rocked, and love remains in the air.

Then I snap out of it and realize that I am here, with family. She is there, without me–perfectly fine, but without me. Ah, damn. I guess I will go take some photos, even though it makes me think of Her ~Image.