It's been five days since I cried.  That may be a record!  Five days without a tear shed over him, over the loss.  On Sunday, I saw him and we talked and for the first time I really knew that everything was going to be okay.  I was going to be okay.  I am going to be okay.

I saw him Saturday and I cried.  We were just hanging out at SXSW with Mommy B, listening to music, commenting on the harmonies and the quality of the picking, drinking Shiner Light Blonde, and shopping in that way that we always did.  "Hey, what do you think of this?"  He bought a few things and I ended up with a t-shirt and nightie.  It was good, but it was harrowing.

By the end of three hours, I was done in.  I had had two Shiners and a hot dog.  It was sunny, no water, and had eaten nothing prior to seeing him.  All the emotion got tied up in knots and I cried.  I had to leave.  It was abrupt and the last thing he said was "I love you, baby."  "I love you too, that's why this is so hard."

I think he moved on, made the emotional and psychological shift to friends, much more easily than I did.  The kinesthetic pull was there, we held hands, hugged, kissed, talked, danced, and I tied his shoe laces, well that was Sunday.

The difference between Saturday's emotion and Sunday's appreciation actually took place Saturday night.  I played with someone else.  A dear friend took me to the depths of despair in a long, extremely intense scene.  There was pain, so much pain and so many tears shed, and I needed every strike, every hit, every thrust, every cut, every weal and every bruise.  My ass is still marked, the welts haven't healed, the bruises are deep enough to last weeks.  It feels wonderful!  And it showed me that I can move on, that I can experience pain and pleasure without being in service or enslaved, and probably most importantly, I can do all of these things with new people.

Once we went to a gang bang party, mainly because it was the host's birthday party and we were good friends with him.  I didn't participate.  SJ had a death grip on my wrist the entire evening.  I loved it.  Never before had he displayed any sense of ownership towards me, no sense of mine, until that night.  That night, I knew I was his.

As we drove home that evening, we chatted back and forth, sharing our thoughts, and he told me he couldn't see me ever doing that, ever taking part in a gang-bang.  The exception would be if he told me to do it.  I nodded, said "Yes, Sir.", but in the back of my mind, I wondered.  Was I the type of person who could have sex with so many strangers and not be battered emotionally as well as physically?

I decided to test that question.  This weekend, I'm going to a gang-bang party and one of my goals is to see if I can do this.  It's a big deal to have sex with anyone else let alone let 20 guys have their way with me.  I plan on being blindfolded so I cannot see who is doing what to me, who is fucking me, who is fucking my mouth, my pussy, my ass.  Just to become cunt all over and float in that space of being used, over and over again.

It may be too much for me, but I'm willing to give it a try.  I am willing myself to do this, once again, to prove to myself that I can do this, that I can have sex again, that I can be with someone besides SJ.  It may be rash, but I need to take this next step.

I also have a date Sunday night, to watch sports, eat wings and drink beer in Pluckers.  The last time I was in Pluckers was with SJ and he triggered a massive orgasm as we sat at the bar.  I don't know if that will happen Sunday, but it will be cool to hang with a friend, a very sexy friend, (who I just discovered is uncut and HUNG!) and get to know one another better.

So I have much to look forward to, much to be hopeful for, and much to be thankful for.  I think most importantly, crossing these milestones puts distance between what was and what will be.  Each step forward is not just a step away but also a step in the right direction.

Warm thoughts ~ KM Kern