Sometimes Your Gut Knows Best

So I guess I can't go the whole blog without talking about the actual wedding. I had proposed to him years before Marriage Equality was enacted, and it was a year after the supreme court made that ruling we got married.

His engagement ring was Tungsten, black with a khaki lining on it. Cheesy as it was, it was engraved with "Kickstart this Weasel's Heart." a Motley Crue reference if you didn't know. No matter who I marry, or who I propose to, I always want something engraved on it, a small inside note that only the couple knows. I dunno, it's cheesy but I like that sentiment.

Since Hipnos didn't have any money, I ended up buying my own ring. He chose it as he said he needed to, but I helped nudge him I guess by getting really psyched for this steam punk lookin' ass ring. It's broken now, the wires that made it pretty much snapped apart. Hipnos took it with him when he left. Said it would be a "reminder" of what we lost. Which means I kept his. It's in a box somewhere.

So the actual wedding day. Well first we had to file with the courts. Wait like 3 weeks and then go the court and get it finalized. We didn't have a ceremony. No guests. Nobody showed.

My mom wouldn't show as she is a "woman of god" and she could not stand that I was getting married.

And since Hipnos wanted the certificate ASAP he didn't give me a lot of time to invite people. So it was empty.

We were still happy I like to think. Me. Him. The Judge. It only took ten minutes to get the "ceremony" part out of teh way.

When we finished, i took him to dinner. This place called Big Humpherey's. I local place in Pearland, TX. Italian food, really good stuff.

Hipnos ordered a burger as was usual with any restaurant we went to (Burger, chicken nuggets, etc.).

We ate, he was happy but it was a quiet dinner. I worked that morning and was fairly tired. It didn't feel like a special day for me. It was supposed to be, but everything we did for it made it feel less and less.

I tried to focus on my love for him, and even that was difficult.

I remember not wanting to go through with it, but he was so adamant about it that I just put one foot in front of the other.

It made things a tad easier since he got on my health insurance plan a year after.

But still, if I had to go through a wedding with him again, I don't think I'd do it. When something is supposed to feel just right, and your gut feels nothing, that's the first sign to stop.

We posted on facebook about it, got a few congratulations. We didn't have sex, Hipnos was again not in the mood for it. So I worked. Until it was time to sleep.

I post nudes online (NSFW PHOTOS INCLUDED)

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When Hipnos Strikes First

Alright, so it's been awhile. Guess it's time to get back to it.

Hipnos was a lot of things. Though it's hard for me to find the good in him, there was some. He had his own way of showing that he loved you. He reminded me a bit of Michael Scott from The Office. You know the one. Childish. Kind of a sense of humor, but not always the best.

Narcissistic.

When something went horribly wrong due to Michael's decision, he was always quick to blame someone else. He put off tough decisions on other people so he could not feel the pain of disappointing someone. Of being the bad guy. He wanted everyone to see him as the best, as the funniest, as the be all end all person. Like Hipnos.

I would say things. I would make up words cause I thought it was kind of funny. Or even use words wrong, because why not? I'm a poet, you're supposed to use words the way you want to use them. For instance: "Semicolons are just butt plugs with tails."

Immediate response: You're stupid.

And that was our dynamic for years. He would always say he didn't mean it. And honestly I believed it, even though it was probably bullshit.

At first I shrugged it off. I didn't think he meant it at first but it just cuts into you after so many years. Still, he would find ways to make it all okay.

One of the things he loathed was me staying out late at night. Now, his definition of late was any time after 10:00pm. I don't go out and and party, but I do work late and I do go to poetry readings or author events where it might go past 10:00pm. He made little comments. Comments like "I'm here all alone."

"You've got all these friends, what do I have?"
"How come I can't go our with my friends?"
"How come you never take me to any of these readings?"

I never said he couldn't go out with his friends, but what means did he have to do so? He didn't have a car. Or a license. Or many friends to my knowledge. The internet was his friend.

Yet he chose not to have a job. Not to take care of himself. Not to leave the house.

Something I always struggled with was where did my responsibility lie as a lover, as a partner, and as a friend to him. I still can't tell you, honestly. Guess that says a lot.

The next bit was a major fight for us as a couple.

I was late coming home hone night. I was at a poetry reading at the Friendswood Public Library. I was one of the readers for a friend's book release. It went late. When it was over I was invited to go eat at Chili's. So fuck it. I said why not?

This irritated Hipnos. Til I said I'd grab him food. You can't go to get food and not get him anything. Rule #1 in our relationship. I learned that quick too.

He sent me a few text messages that night. The same questions just over and over. Long novel length texts. Telling me I'm embarrassed by him. I'm probably better off without him, etc. etc.

So I turned my phone off.

Rule #2: don't be unreachable. Learned that quick.

The moment I got home, I set his food on his desk and give him a hug. He took it and threw the food in the trash. He started yelling. Saying he had to wait for hours to eat. How dare I make him wait so long. How could I not answer the phone?

I can't remember what I said, but it pushed him over the line. the dog was hiding under the bed. Before I knew it, he started hitting himself. Punching his face. Each impact like a drum beat in our room. Calling himself stupid. Idiot. everything in between. The chair was rustling violently beneath him. I remember those goddamn squeaks.

I couldn't say anything.

I didn't know what to do.

I got up, tried to grab his hands, restrain him. Keep himself from hurting himself. But he took my hands and shoved me into the bookshelves and continued. So I took a tumble. I just soothed the dog until he calmed down after that.

I would stay with him for three more years after this.

The Oddly Good Times pt. 1

Art by Bocian

So the past few posts begs the question. Were there every any good times between Hipnos and I? I mean, I loved the guy there had to have been some good times, right?

And there were. I mean, when he wasn't raging or needing me like a parent, he did have a sweet side to him. Though looking back it's rather difficult to believe I suppose.

The hardest thing with Hipnos was when he wanted to love you, it was always his terms. You could never do it on your own terms or discuss it. It was always his terms. One of my largest complaints when I was with him was that I needed love and when I expressed that it would sometimes be a hassle for him. "You can't pause an online video game."

But we had our moments, I guess.

Hipnos loved medieval stuff. Dragons, fantasy, knights, swords the fucking works. So when he first moved in, I thought RenFest would be a good idea. Renaissance festivals are always filled with something decent (and for me it was the food, at least when I was kid it was the food).

RenFest is a massive shopping exhibit. Yea there's some shows you can go to, but most are there to shop. Money was tight, so we did what we could. I remember when we entered the sun was just overhead. It was already hot. Even in Fall the 90 degree weather does not leave the gulf.

I remember we walked around so much. There was this fox fursuiter there who had this really stunning suit. Centaurs everywhere, and the dudes from that movie 300 (I guess time travel was a thing??).

We caught a couple of shows. They were mostly cheesy but we got a good laugh out of them. Dead Bob I think was one of the shows. We stopped to listen to this one band. Hipnos said he recognized the song. It was from a band called Garmarna.

One year for his birthday, I got him all their CDs cause I knew he loved them. They were a folk band I didn't understand. They did mostly Swedish folk music. he would listen to this band for hours. I'm not sure if he ever listened to the CDs I got him as Youtube was his main music source.

This band wasn't Garmarna, but they were doing a song from the band. That was probably the one thing he would remember the most from that day.

We found this chapel area in the fair. People actually got married there. It was so romantic. So, we took a picture together. We didn't take many. Hipnos hated photos, but I was lucky to get this one.

Looking back he isn't smiling. I can't help but read a lot into that.

I like to think this is one of our happier moments. A moment that felt like, yea, after all the shit we created, we might could make it work.

The next post or so, I'll search for more good times. But there are some other tough posts coming up. I wish I could tell this all in chronological order, but the brain doesn't sync up that way unfortunately. So, bear with me.

I'm legit the luckiest weasel around.

7 posts in. And not one of them has a happy fuckin' moment. Now, that's not to say Hipnos and I didn't have good moments together. We did. You'll get to see them over the next post or so. For this one though, I want to move away from the Hipnos narrative.

Today is the first day I feel like I can breathe. My last couple posts were centered around my mental health and Hipnos, and that's because I've been in a mild fit of depression these past few days. It's becoming easier to recognize it when it arrives.

Since today is actually a good day, I'd like to move away from the chaos that was Hipnos and I. I'd like to talk about my ideal partner, something I had no clue how to describe when I was first dating.

Over time, I've come to develop some idea at least. There are things that I've dealt with in the past that I probably wouldn't deal with now.

A lot of my own connections to Hipnos originated in Codependence. If you haven't read the book Codependent No More by by Melody Beattie, I suggest grabbing it. It'll give you a fairly in depth look at Codpendent relationships, and it helped me get out of mine.

I felt good being needed, even if I desised being needed all the time. I felt good taking care of him, even if it wore me down cause I was doing it all hours of the day. I came to feel important in a twisted/toxic way.

Over time, I got tired. A lot. it felt like my natural state was exhaustion. I was giving a lot in my relationship to Hipnos, but I was not receiving. I didn't feel loved. I felt more like a parent than a husband. But who else could take care of Hipnos? Spoiler: it wasn't necessarily my responsibility.

And that was hard to learn.

My second therapist, We'll call him MF cause he was definitely a motherfucker at times, asked me what I wanted in a partner and I couldn't answer that.

The question has been rather prominent in my head these past couple years. the more I thought about it, the less it was what I had.

Everyone has their fantasy partner. That one person they've seen either on screen or in a book. That one character they would marry and fuck for the rest of their lives. I mean, there's a lot of fictional characters I'd be down to fuck in a hot minute (looking at you Splinter from Ninja Turtles. Don't judge me).

but for like a lifelong actual partner, I gotta go with Jim from the Office. Again don't judge me. Hear me out. First of all The Office is legit one of the funniest shows, and Jim is a rather romantic character. The Teapot for instance. In an episode he gets Pam a teapot, but fills it with little items like his high school photo cause she always cracks up when she looks at it. or a mustard packet that was important to them both. He essentially packed all these little moments for her and he continues to do it throughout the series. He's dorky, can make you laugh, and isn't afraid of tagging you along in being a partner in crime to whatever adventure he's planned.

So how does that translate to my dating life?

When it comes to actually being in a relationship, there's just a few things that I've wanted or needed with a partner. I'm not saying Hipnos didn't do these things (sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't), but I am saying I really desired these and I don't feel they were met or met often for me to notice when I was with Hipnos.

1.  Humor. Inside jokes, teasing, playfulness. I like to be able to have fun with my partner and know they're not gonna shut it down as childish. When I put googly eyes on my dick, I'd at least hope it's entertaining. 
2.  Sex. I need a sexual connection to my partner. We don't have to have all the same kinks, but shared interests are definitely a plus. 
3.  Romantic connection. I don't need a fancy dinner, but sometimes I do need to hear that I'm loved or that we matter together. Small gestures, or little things that only we would know. Yea. that's nice. It makes me feel like I'm wanted rather than needed. Because of my relationship with Hipnos, I sometimes associate need with that Codependence. Feeling wanted, or desired, is something that's become rather prominent for me. 
4.  Adventurous. I want someone who can push my boundaries. Someone who can curb that anxiety I have and give me some experiences that I never thought I'd have. 
5.  Communication. This is basic, but it's so important. From discussing kinks to seeing what the fuck's gonna be for dinner. Communicating that you love each other, all of it. just all of it. #requirement
6.  My Anxiety. I'd really like to be with someone who didnt' down play my anxiety. Yes, sometimes it can get a bit much, but at least listen to me first. If it's bullshit then we can go from there. 
7.  Partnership. Someone who has your fuckin back would be nice. Let's be honest, living in a one sided relationship was hella tough. Doing everything got exhausting. 
8.  Collaboration. I'd like to be able to toss ideas around, back and forth. Maybe we work on projects together, or just talk about some fun ideas. But some artistic collaboration would amazing. 
9.  Honesty. Self-explanatory.
10. Cuddling, physical contact. I didn't get much of this when I was with Hipnos. So moving onward, this needs to be a thing. Cuddling, hugging, holding hands, kissing in public, the fuckin works. no discussions.

Those are the five main items I look for, and I think they're fairly common. There's just not a whole lot of guys who are like that.

Am I looking at the moment? Fuck no. See, I got lucky. Really. fucking. lucky.

Over a year ago, I got together with someone. That story will be told soon as it's a crazy one. he runs a blog of his own, you should totally check it out. Goes by the name Espresso or ES.

Y'all. I can't tell you how perfect Es really is. He hits all the markers. 100%

He's been there in so many ways for me, made me feel legit special. Everyone says this is a normal relationship, but I've never known normal, so this is extraordinary. And I love it. I love him. A fucking fuckton. I couldn't be happier.

He's my babe, my future spouse, my girl in the sheets, and the best person you'll ever meet. See us below. Love you babe, love you a fuckton. <3

Es always has his tongue out for pictures. It's cute x3

Solitude. Part 2.

I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel

I focus on the pain

The only thing that's real

The needle tears a hole

The old familiar sting

Try to kill it all away

But I remember everything

--"hurt" Nine Inch Nails

I didn't know how to start this post. Or even, what I wanted to write for this post. Day 2 of depression is hard. Finding ways of being distracted is harder. As cliche as it sounds, the song "Hurt" by Nine Inch Nails has been my void filler for decades. It hits the right spots when you need it to. Sure, it's depressing as all fuck, but sometimes you need it on the hardest days.

Hipnos always said I needed to listen to happier music. Get some Beatles in my life (when I was more a Stones dude. Fight me). He said the reason I was so depressed was because all the music I listened to was depressing. That I only connected to it out of convenience since it was part of my every day life.

Now, I'm not saying all my music was bright/happy. But I knew my catalog well. Point is, I knew that wasn't the problem. Still isn't the problem.

When it came to my own mental health, I knew Hipnos wasn't going to be there. I also knew the risk I'd run by seeking help without him knowing. The thing with Hipnos was that he was very narcissistic. One wrong move or one wrong thing said and it would be the world against him. He twisted things to make him the victim. It was exhausting.

So I made the jump. Without him knowing. I was fortunate that he wasn't trying to glare at my calendar. I mean, when I was out he would always ask me where I was, sometimes I'd tell him, other times it would just be the store. When I was seeing my therapist, I was at "the store."

I don't believe in hiding anything from my partner. With Hipnos, I told him mostly everything until I became the second mother to him. Then, I needed space. When I went to iHop for peace, I told him I was at "the store." Or even just poetry events.

It was a convenient lie. A lie I hated doing at first, but grew into the more he wondered where I was going. And since I lived in a household where we constantly needed things like chicken nuggets, sodas, soap, etc. etc. It was easy to just say it.

So I lied. And started with my first therapist. Starting therapy was rough. It was hard for me to even open up. I started with the surface issues. My crumbling house, shit job, the feeling of everything staying stagnant. I didn't approach my relationship at first, until she noticed the way I talked about him.

She said there was a sadness in my voice when I mentioned his name. Some emotions are too hard to keep down. So we talked about Hipnos. We talked about me having to take care of him, and the rest of the family needing me. We talked about the lack of me having space or even time for myself.

Looking back, I believe she was hinting at Codependence. But she didn't outright say it, and I'm terrible at reading between the lines on a good day.

We worked out some things to do just so I could get space from everything. They worked for awhile, but there was still something lingering and I couldn't escape it.

Our sessions didn't last more than 5 months. On our last visit, she read me a Dr. Seuss book, and that was it. It would be another year before I sought out therapy again.

I don't believe she was a bad therapist. A lot of it has to do with my inability to open up. I was afraid of how it would change the dynamics of my relationship. I still loved Hipnos and my first instinct was to protect that relationship however I could.

The second therapist despised Hipnos' lack of work. I was slowly starting to hate it myself, but I was also comfortable in the chaos we created between each other. I was comfortable taking care of him.

I was codependent, though by this time didn't know it and didn't even know what it meant. A part of me felt good by just being needed, even if it went across my own boundaries. It wasn't something I was ready to give up yet.

Isn't that what the marriage narrative is? You don't give up? Or Til Death Do Us Part?

I started to push Hipnos into finding work at first, but remained complacent when that didn't happen.

I still hated my job, but I kept it, knowing if I just up and left it would be detrimental. My job at the time was a weight. Some days I would go in at 5 in the morning, and not come home til 8 or 9 at night. There was just so much to do.

During these years, between being overworked, underpaid, and then coming home to take care of practically an adult child, the suicidal urges made their home in me. I self-harmed in the morning, burned myself a few times with my vape box. It was like a cigarette burn without the cigarette.

I made maybe three attempts within the past four years. Called the suicide hotline for one attempt.

I had been in a bad spot for what seemed like ages. So many ages.

Hipnos didn't come to find out I was seeing a new therapist until the second or third visit with my second one.

We argued, we talked, he read some of the pieces I'd written on it, cried. he said he'd do better. A phrase that became something he would throw out often yet rarely follow through on.

I don't hate Hipnos for these particular dark areas of my life. My mental health is mine to own. I don't know if it had been any different if I was more open on it. But I do feel I should have been.

Today is a tough day. Depression day 2. And I'm feelin' it this morning as I write this. The song by Nine Inch Nails is hitting all the right spots in my brain, though not on repeat, it'll come back around on my playlist.

It's 9:00am where I'm at. The coffee is doing nothing for how sluggish I am, but it's not really the coffee's fault. Let's see what the rest of the day has for me.

Solitude

My depression is a heavy void. An empty pit latched to my chest, making everything sluggish. It's like watching the sky dissipate into, well, nothing. A slow, numbing, nothing.

Today it has decided to call my body home. Always uninvited, always unwanted, yet so overpowering in the end.

I can't tell you how long I've dealt with it, but it's a long history.

Hipnos didn't understand the moments I went into the void. He only knew that made me less available to take care of him. His disinterest in my mental health caused me to step back; to stay quiet.

Why bother talking about something going on inside when your partner isn't able to help you or care enough?

When he asked me how I was, it was always "i'm fine."
Are you sure? "yes."

In 2016, I sought out therapy. This was months before we got married. It got to a point where I had nothing else. I was afraid of opening up to this person. The thought of starting therapy is a rather intimidating one if you've never gone through it at first. But I took that plunge.

It got to a point where I would just imagine myself dying on the drive to work. Each day was different at first, then the same thought followed. It was always a gun, always the head. I could hear the shot so vividly. Always at the same stoplight.

I sought help. I was exhausted with just living most of the time. Tired of going into work, tired of getting yelled at the moment i got home, tired of feeling as if my only reason for living was to take care of this screaming video game playing baby. Because who else would? (#codependence)

I had been seeing this therapist for roughly 4 months. I don't remember how he found out. But when he did, he was upset. He hated that I had to go to a therapist instead of talk to him about my problems. He hated that he could not fix me. He hated that I could not "trust" him to talk about what's going on inside.

Those feelings of hatred got worse when he learned I wrote it all out through poetry. Suddenly, my own mental health became the trigger for his own spiral. He began to say things:

"I can't believe I'm not good enough to help you."
"Why couldn't you just tell me?"
"Am I so useless to you?"
"How can I even be a partner to you?"
"I'm thinking you're with me out of convenience and not love. Who could love me?"

I remember he cried a lot.

And all I could do was feel terrible because I was now the villain who made him feel unwanted. Who made him feel as if he was worthless.

Throughout this time, he would try to touch me. Try to cuddlle. Try to show me I felt loved, yet I couldn't accept it. It was all awkward for me because there was the underlying intention of him ensuring himself that he can be the good partner.

A part of was happy he at least made an attempt. But with Hipnos, the worrying over anything outside of his gaming addiction and online role plays, was miniscule. The trying slowly stopped.

Hipnos: a brief sexual discussion

So for this post, I'd like to elaborate more on what sex was like with Hipnos. I've mentioned it briefly in the past couple of posts, but I feel it's best to talk about it in some more detail. There was so much going on in our relationship that it's hard to focus on every single aspect.

When we first started talking, Hipnos would tell me all his fantasies. He wanted to be the perfect sub bottom. He wanted to take on the role of pleasing a dominant man, pleasing a man who would take control in the bedroom. Manhandle him, require him to dress him up in outfits, and act out kinks on him. He said he loved dressing up in feminine clothes. Panties, stockings, maid outfits. He loved latex and latex gloves. He loved being spanked/whipped, pushed to do oral, and bondage. In text he was as kinky as they come (lol come. Yes I'm that childish, get over it).

In practice, it was vastly different. As I mentioned a couple posts back, our first few times having sex, I bottomed a lot for. He would later say that he wished I had topped more and that I wasn't so thick so he could take it easier.

When I bottomed for him, I mentioned it wasn't as pleasurable for me as I had imagined it would be. Again, all I had to compare with at the time were the various toys I had reviewed prior to our encounters.

Hipnos' penis was rather curved. When I blew him, it curved upward, hitting the top of my mouth, hitting my gag reflex easily. He always wanted me to deepthroat him, and that was kind of difficult at times. The curve reminded me of an alien limb protruding from his body. When he became erect, it would ease upward like a tentacle reaching out for something to grab onto, yet fall short.

When he fucked me, again, he had issues finding where my hole was at.  The usual position when I bottomed was doggy. It was easy, and it's what he preferred. But fuck was it difficult being on all fours and him jabbing my taint with his dick. There would be times I would stop him and say "nope, not even close to being in." To which he would get flustered and yell "fuck" and try to find again.

One time, while we had sex, he said my hips were too high. He pushed my back, moved my legs, had me lie down, anything to get the perfect position for him to fuck me. When he couldn't, he said I was impossible. That I just couldn't do what he needed and we wouldn't finish that night. That sucked for me. I definitely didn't want him to go unfulfilled in sex, even though my own fulfillments were lacking for a good bit of our relationship. I wanted to at least be able to satisfy hi, and though he said countless times I did, I never felt that way. That night was definitely a hit to the ego.

Anal became less of a thing as our relationship moved on. He hated how he couldn't provide. Our sex life slowly moved from experimenting to, well, nothing.

When he first moved in, we had sex fairly frequently, but then there would be periods of months at a time where we wouldn't have sex. I would ask, I would touch him sensually, but it would always get put off until tomorrow. Most of the time, tomorrow rarely, if ever, came.

When we did have sex, it was a lot of oral. We did rimming, he mostly rimmed me. I always made sure to wash (I saw the Red Foxx special, I know). I never want a partner to have to go through spreadiny my ass wide and being disgusted. Rimming is a fun experience, when all the parts are in place for it to happen. If your ass smells like you just took a shit, then rimming ain't gonna happen that night (I mean, unless you're into that #nojudgment).

I almost rimmed him once. I wrote a poem about it too. I'll post it below.

he asked me to eat his ass

i was all too willing
to oblige

spreading his cheeks wide
as if opening a bag
of groceries

my thumbs play with his hole
he lets out a quiet moan
only audible to the choir
of silence in this room

i draw his ass closer
my tongue ready
to plunge

but the moment
i get inches away
it hits me

rotten
like a bad
caesar salad
left out
in texas heat

boy

do you not know
the basics of washing
your ass?

you can't
present
a feast
that's
rotten

what do you tell
your guests
when they are
not able
to cure
their desire

i pushed him off
said i felt sick

a small piece
of toilet paper
lies on my belly

i fling it away
grabbed my clothes
and didn't call

the next day

Hipnos and Hygeine weren't necessarily on the same page. There would be days he would go without bathing. Some days I would have to remind him to get a fucking shower. I'm into musk play as much as the next kinky person, but fuck christ be civil about it. Don't go an entire week without fucking bathing (#notmad) Like the poem says, when i spread him open, it poured out of him, and I couldn't do it.

Sometimes, when I went to blow him, his musk would be way too strong, and I wouldn't be able to perform. Again, bathing issues and issues with changing his underwear for days. He would wear the same pair for 3 maybe 4 days. Let's be honest. You gotta change that shit.

I would remember the taste of onions. Just uncooked, raw fuckin' onions, whenever I blew him. Rarely a pleasant taste. Sometimes I would power through, other times I couldn't. 

The bathing got better with time, but it was a fuckton of work and "mothering" to get him to do it. Again, blaming the house for his lack of taking care of himself (see prior post).

Outside of rimming, he blew me. a lot. I him, and gave him handjobs. When he blew me, he would only last for a few seconds (let's say 30 sec. tops). He would say that I was too thick for his jaw. That after a point, he couldn't do it much longer. He complained a lot about me being too big.

Now let's be real. I'm not tryna brag. My cock is fairly average. Average length, average thickness. If you want pictures, check out my adult twitter account: @systmaticwzl I never took his complaints as an ego booster, though I'm sure most guys would.

For the most part, our sex life was me finishing off myself. He would sometimes swallow, but a lot of it I would have to shoot my load on the floor. He would rarely let me shoot it on him, and god fucking help it if you get it in his hair or face. He would scream wildly about me getting it there.

He hated his body getting messy.

I wore gloves nearly every time we had sex. Rarely would we do it without them. They were a kink of his. Nitrile or latex gloves. It always felt distant for me. As if I wasn't allowed to actually touch him. I had to have a layer to get that intimate with him at all. I felt like I was never able to connect with him sexually. He created this barrier between us, let me cross it only a few times, but kept it up for most of our relationship.

The one kink that surprised me, out of our whole relationship, was watersports.  He wanted to drink form the tap so to speak. I've always had an interest in it, so I was rather happy to oblige. And so we did it, I stuck my cock into his mouth and just started urinating. to my surprise, he liked it. He said it was salty like chicken flavored ramen. I didn't quite know how to take that, but I just let it. he liked it, I liked it, why the fuck not. It was the only kink he was eager for outside of gloves. Simply because he liked the taste. He didn't like the taste of cum, and he really didn't like the taste of my cock (he has avidly told me of other dudes who's cock tastes better). 

Hipnos was a sexual experience, I don't think I'd want to relive. Like everything, he kept me distant. And slowly, I grew to get used to it. 

When You Are Engulfed in Exhaustion

I write poetry. Poetry is a way for me to process, to cope, to understand everything that comes at me in life. All my lovers have a poem written for them. Love is as much of life as everything else, sometimes more.

I wrote Hipnos several poems like the one shown in the image above. It was my cheesy way of expressing love, still is. I did this for a good bit of our relationship, and over time Hipnos stopped reading. I slowly got used to the lack of support on something that is so huge in my life. As the posts move on, I'll share how the poems change. The one written above, was written right as he moved in with me.

I picked him up at a McDonald's in Alabama. His mom had brought him as he didn't have a car. I wasn't allowed to pick him up at his house, though I wasn't sure why. We had lunch at McDonalds, his mom seemed nice, and she had been throughout the duration of our relationship. I drove 10 hours to pick him up, and drove 10 hours to get home. Our home. A home that would slowly turn into maddening pandemonium.

I remember he blew me on the road. My first time getting road head. When he settled in, he looked around my home, the dogs barking, the floors unfinished. My family welcomed him in. My mom was still living with us at the time. He looked around and said "it's poor but it's home."

I didn't know what to think about that at the time. It started off a ton of anxieties about the state of my home. It wasn't much. Still isn't much, but it's all I have. My home is unfinished. No A/C, everything is rigged, messy, and we get roaches from time to time. But it's home.

It's not a place I bring a lot of people to. It's not a place I want people to see anymore. When my current boyfriend came to Houston, I gave him a fuckton of warnings. Completely worried about what he'd think on how I lived. And that started because of one statement from Hipnos.

I shrugged it off. He unpacked and immediately started gaming. I had a copy of Super Smash Brothers and he played that for hours. I think we went to bed together, something that would become rare for us. At first, i was the one who wanted to stay up late, he early. We had a lot of talks about it. It slowly progressed to syncing bed times.

It took forever for him to start applying for jobs. I pushed him every so often, gave him websites like Indeed and Snagajob. Yet he never got anything. He didn't have a phone at the time so we used mine, but he never got a call back for the jobs he did apply for.

There was one argument we got into. I got tired of taking care of things. I had just gotten a new car because my dad was taking my current one away through the divorce. I needed something, so I locked myself into a long, high priced bill. I was working two jobs at the time, barely making anything, and I was going to school full time. He sat at home, gaming. He screamed about how he wanted to work. He needed to work to feel good about himself. He then blamed my home, our home, for his inability to do anything. All his motivation gone just by the walls of his new home. We never resolved it.

I hate not resolving arguments. Sometimes you can't do it that day, but I've always believed you don't go to sleep pissed off. I went to bed livid that night.

Most nights, when I got home, I was the one who had to cook for him. he had the worst diet. I call it the kid food diet. chicken nuggets, Kraft mac and cheese, waffles, Campbell's chicken soup, and McDonald's. We ate a lot of McDonald's. At the end of the day I had to make all this stuff for him cause he wouldn't do it himself. I tried making the items more microwave friendly so he could do it, but there'd be days I'd get home and ask if he had eaten and I'd hear "I forgot to eat." or "yea, cereal this morning." His gaming addiction really took off.

This became my norm for several years of my life. Several years. I became complacent to it. All my resentment went away, and I juts left it at "this is how it is now. This is my life."

Sex became nonexistant between us. I would ask him, a lot. Maybe too much at times, and he got so annoyed with it. Said he wasn't my "personal slut." That he shouldn't have to have sex with me for ust to be happy. And I get it, I'm not entitled to sex. That's understandable. But I do see sex as an important part of a relationship, and if we were no longer sexually compatible, we needed to talk.

He said he was tired of sex. That he could live without it. All you need is to jack off and you're fine.

When we did have sex, I had to wear gloves. It was a kink of his, but sometimes I would have liked to have touched him without the gloves. That rarely, if ever, happened. Most of the time, he looked bored.

He never wanted anal, as I indicated in my past posts. He said I was too big. Too thick. His ass could not handle it. When he blew me, it would only be for like thirty seconds, then he'd make me finish myself off my jacking off.

He said I complained too much about not having sex. That it made him feel terrible, as if he were a terrible partner. I was a child, whining about the lack of intimacy in our relationship. I learned to quiet down after time. I came to be afraid of asking my partner for sex or bringing up the lack of sex, thinking I was bringing in some toxicity in our relationship. And I didn't want to be toxic.

I had gotten used to taking care of things, becoming co-dependent. It slowly felt nice to be needed, even though it was taking an exhaustive toll on me and my mental state. I slowly fell into deep depressive episodes. Small things like paying bills late, not being able to go out and eat, not being able to clean all the time, set me off easily. I felt pathetic. He felt pathetic that he didn't help, still blaming the house for not being able to get motivated to do anything. He said, "everything here is ugly. Why bother doing anything?"

So I worked harder. Slept less. Still. It felt like it didn't matter.

In 2014, I got my car repossessed. I was three months behind. It was a Sunday morning. They came at 7am. I remember hearing the tires screech as they dragged the car off the driveway. I didn't know what to do; how to respond. I just knew shit hit the fan.

I remember he was so pissed. So pissed. He told me, if i had ever lost anything major like my car again that he would leave me. That I should have been better at paying our bills. How dare I let this happen.

I wanted to tell him that if he just helped, things would be easier. But I knew the answer. How could I ask that of him when he has been trying to do better?

I let that rule my life for several years.

I wrote poetry for Hipnos. Over time he stopped reading. Or maybe he didn't read at all. I've stopped wondering about it.

 I turned to poetry to cope. What else did I have? Below is what the poetry slowly turned into.

The First Sign of Rage

The early years with Hipnos are a bit of a blur. We met another time in person, around Valentine's day, but I don't remember much of that trip. I remember getting him a video game as gift. A Final Fantasy game. For his birthday I got him a copy of his favorite, Secret of Mana, original SNES. I knew the games he loved and for the most part knew what to buy him when it came to gifts at least. But aside from that, it wasn't so eventful.

I remember the hotel gave me such a fuckin' hastle. I booked a room with a hot tub. Figured it would sexy and romantic. I got wine because what doesn't scream romantic when it comes to wine right? Spoiler, the wine was terrible. But the hotel didn't have any rooms like that available, even though I reserved it weeks in advance. Part of me thinks it was because I was Latinx that they didn't give me the room. Alabama isn't known for treating people of color with anything more than disdain. The person checking me in treated me like I was a hassle; as if I was the cause of all her problems.

But they gave me some room in that fuckin' place. I got a basic room at first. Standard one bed. that kind of thing, but I was paying for a suite. I had to call corporate to get it sorted out and they finally gave me a suite room at least. No hot tub, but at least something better than what was given.

We spent most of our time in the hotel room. There wasn't much to do in his town. Monroeville, AL is really small. The kind of town that only has a Walmart and you can't do much in a Walmart. He played video games on the Xbox 360 I gave him for Xmas. I wondered if he knew I was there at times.

We fucked a few times, but anal was still uncomfortable for him. And he didn't want to top, so we did a lot of oral, and some bdsm play. We used candles, restraints, he even dressed up in a skirt and some panties I got from Victoria's Secret. We took pictures, but I've since deleted them after our final split.

By this time, he had dropped out of college. He hadn't gotten a job yet. He was miserable. I was thinking the trip would help, not sure if it did.

I remember leaving this trip with more uncertainty than that previous one. But I stuck with it, again chucking it up to my own anxiety.

After our second meet, we started to fight a bit more. I remember one argument. He was hysterical. Yelling/screaming because his mom was pressuring him and he hadn't found work yet. He said he was going to kill himself and he'd do it by drinking bleach.

I was in the middle of filling out a job application when I got the message. I worried. Didn't know what to do. I was stuck in Texas, he in Alabama, what do you do in that situation where you're helpless? I texted, then slowly stopped when I wasn't getting a response. Damn near in tears.

Then he messaged me. There were a plethora of apologies. He said he sprayed his mouth with bleach but didn't do much more. It was the first time I had experienced him hurting himself. It was at that point I told him we needed a break. I used his lack of finding a job and his unpredictability as my decision.

I'm not sure how he took it. He was silent for the most part. But after a few weeks he asked me if we could get back together. Apologizing. Promising it wouldn't happen again. Pleading. Yet slowly it all turned into outbursts. He would respond with "it's not fair to make me wait while you sort your shit out." It was constant.

He had this uncanny hold on me, even though we were so far apart, the badgering started to weigh me down. Weighed me down hard until I said I'd give it another go.

He was a first for a lot of things for me. I started to question on whether or not I was actually a decent boyfriend. If I was capable of any kind of relationship because I couldn't handle his emotions as sporadic and volatile as they could be. At the time, I couldn't see the toxicity that was lingering around him.

So I gave it another go. By this point we had been with each other for about a year now. Things started off fine. We role played online, talked sex, I continued to irritate him as that's what I do. We had a few phone conversations, but he was always bad at keeping them. He communicated better through Skype or Yahoo instant messenger (so old, right??).

We fought a few times, then he messaged saying he was worried. His dad threw a table at him. I don't believe he was lying about that, but at that moment I wish I had thought it out. All I could think of was protecting him, so I offered for him to move in. I knew his family was abusive, I knew I could help him with finding work in Texas, and I knew we could at least be happy being together.

So he moved in.

Hipnos: The Beginning

Life moves at you fast. I know, everybody fuckin' says it. But it does.

After my adventures with J, I flew back to Texas. The warm weather of Houston was calling me back, and it's hard to deny a home you've known for all of your life. Texas is all I've ever known, but a taste of another state wasn't half bad.

I had been talking with this other guy at the time. We hadn't approached the topic of anything romantic before. We were friends, though I remember him doing a lot of talking when we first met online. He talked a lot about Final Fantasy, something I still don't know. I mean literally, you could ask me what the games were about and I would probably say "fuck if I know." I'm not much of a gamer, and anything JRPG related was way over my head.

But fuck christ did he lecture. He kept saying I would enjoy it if I only tried it. Spoiler: I never did. I was the person he went to when he was figuring pieces of himself out. When he came out as gay to his family, I was the one who talked him through it. I mean, I wasn't an expert, still ain't an expert. I was still coming to terms with my sexuality at the time. I couldn't even tell you what I wanted or needed out of a relationship. Nevertheless, I talked to him as he sorted his shit out. His family didn't have any issues when he came out, and I remember him being relieved.

It was maybe a couple months after my trip with J he started to flirt with me. He was going to college at some private college at the time. He was nice, quiet/shy, somewhat playful, and fun to irritate. See, when I get into a relationship with someone, I will irritate the fuck out of them. For the purposes of this blog, I'll call him Hipnos.

If you're unfamiliar, that's the god of sleep. I can't think of a better way to describe him in our relationship. I mean there's a lot of things I could call him, but Hipnos is the better term, and I think you'll understand why as the story progresses.

Hipnos and I officially got together a couple months after my time with J. To this day he will call himself a "rebound." It's a term I will forever hate. I don't care how long it takes for anyone to move into another relationship. Whether it's a day or a year, you work on your time. The term rebound is a societal stigma, saying "you're only with me cause you couldn't be with the one you actually wanted. I'm the second best."

Beau Taplin wrote it best. I'll paraphrase as I'm not too keen on putting the whole poem here (everything I do is connected to poetry, you'll learn that as well). He said, you'll find someone, now, later, doesn't matter. You'll find someone who will "start a fire that cannot die." The problem is, they may not be the one you spend your life with. And that is a crushing truth. J did start a fire, even though we didn't click much, there was a domino effect of expectations that I placed on him. And it took time for that to heal.

Still, I don't consider Hipnos a rebound.

I met him in person, for the first time in the fall of the same year. Had to be around 2010, maybe 2011. I remember taking a cab from the Mobile, AL airport to his school. Picking him up. He wanted to go back to my hotel. I couldn't stay in his dorm with him, so I booked a La Quinta. We kissed. We cuddled. It was a lot of firsts. I hadn't really been with a guy before; definitely hadn't had sex with a guy before. There was a couple of on again off again things but they were sporadic and lasted for a month or so. Such is the dating scene, right? This was all before Tinder, so take that as you will.

We had sex. It was a first for either of us. I remember it not being as magical. Not disappointing, but not this amazing wave of euphoria either. It was also one of the few times Hipnos let me top him. I mean, he blew me for most of our relationship, but anal was not something he was wanting in a sexual relationship. At least that's what I perceived.

For the duration of that trip, I bottomed. When he fucked me, I remember it not being pleasurable. He had some issues in finding my hole. He also farted a few times during sex, which was rather hilarious. Maybe embarrassing, but let's be honest. Sex isn't always hot in the moment. Sometimes you fart.

For the most part, I chucked my discomfort with bottoming with inexperience. It was definitely not like any of the toys I used. Before meeting Hipnos in person, I reviewed sex toys, various vibrators, dildos, lube, etc. There's a lot of amazing toys. At the time, I only had my toy experience to compare.

Our first date was at a Ruby Tuesday. Again, 21, you don't really know what good food is when you're 21.

We ate at Dennys a lot out of convenience, and his school.

I remember enjoying my time, but when it came down to feeling euphoric, I don't think I reached that feeling. I chucked all this up to just nervousness on both parts.

When it was time for me to head home, I dropped him off at his dorm. Helped him bring his things to his room as he stayed at my hotel room for the week.

I waited outside of the dorm for my cab. Hipnos didn't wait with me, plugging into his computer as I left his room. And I was off shortly after.

I think about that moment of the trip often. That immediate distance when it was over. Me alone on the sidewalk in the mild Alabama heat. Though at the time, I didn't think much on it. It says a lot to me now.

Take Me As I Am

Take me as I am. Not as you expect. We often have expectations in other people, not always intentional, but we do. It’s disheartening when the other doesn’t meet the expectations we placed on them. Yet they aren’t responsible for the roles we force them into. 

So I’m writing this to you, the reader, to take me as I am. Without expectations. 

If we’re just meeting for the first time, my name is Weasel. Don’t ask me how I got my name or what my real name is. It ain’t your business til I tell you. 

I got a bit of a story to tell. A long, sometimes weird, story. Like all stories, they get fucked, and they get there fast. And honestly there’s some fucking here and there too, so be prepared for sexual content. I ain’t a fuckin’ prude (though I know a few who are). I guess the polite term would be sexually conservative, but who the fuck the cares. 

I vape. I’m in and out of depressive episodes. And I can be a pain in the ass (literally to some people), so bear with me. 

I was in an emotionally abusive relationship. I’d like to think it didn’t start that way, but that’s what this journey is all about. That’s what any journey is about, ain’t it? Discovery. The Good. The Bad. The downright fucked. It lasted seven, maybe eight years and ended a few months ago. When you’re in something as extensive as that, it ain’t easy to let it go. 

We aren’t always wired to let go. That’s why you gotta learn it. Loosening attachments to anything comes with practice. 

Currently, I’m with a new partner. Been with him for over a year now, and he’s the best boyfriend I’ve had. I often wonder how I got so lucky. 

But before I talk about these past several years, I gotta start at the beginning. I gotta start with J. J was sort of my first romantic interest. We never officially hit off as boyfriends, but we were interested in seeing where it’d lead to. As short lived as J was, he was fairly memorable, and hard to let go. 



Through poetry I’ve written about several of my encounters with him. Poetry is how I cope. It’s a way to process; a way to think and get the gunk out of your skull. I wrote about him, a lot. Made a book, making a point to utilize all my books of poetry as new chapters in my life, even the smaller chapbooks being a section of it. 

I don’t have a picture of us together, though I wouldn’t want to plaster his face here. Not after so many years. But this is how our story starts. 

I met J online through a website called FurAffinity. He had just started posting art and it wasn’t half bad. He did a piece of my character, and we started talking from there. 

J. was a sweet guy. We flirted a few times and I asked if he wanted to meet up? I was down to fly somewhere new, being in Texas for so many years you start to want to see a new scene. He lived up in Michigan. We agreed and decided to see what would happen. 

The town he was in was rather small. One of those “everything closes on Sunday” type towns. And everything did fucking close on Sunday. We did a fuckton of walking. It was march, and snow was still on the ground and I was like “why the fuck is there still snow in March.” Being from Texas, snow really isn’t a thing. 

I remember a couple of dates at a few chain restaurants. When you’re 21 you don’t really know what a date is. Let’s be real. My first date with J was at a Chinese restaurant, some chain buffet with ok food. 

When I think back on it. It’s mostly a blur. I see him clearly, I see the dim lighting, and I see the snow through the window. But the rest, the food, the atmosphere, even our conversation was a blur. 

I remember he took me to a house party, another fur from FA was hosting and it mostly filled with people who were awkward around each other. There was this one lady, fuck, she had to have been high. She was so obsessed with this song by the Scissor Sisters, something about wanting to dance to a song about not dancing. It was a catchy song, but fuck, she was really into it. I remember it weirded J out. I don’t think he was into anything drug related, even as something as harmless as weed. 

The next day we walked to a coffee shop. There wasn’t a lobby or anything so we had to hang out in the drive thru and grab out drinks. It was cute, we huddled together cause it was cold. It was the first bit of affection we had shared with each other. We stayed huddled together for a good bit of the day, through horror movies and cheap food. 

The trip came to an end shortly after. I remember not having any sexual chemistry with J. We hit it off well as friends, and made a damn good first attempt at starting a relationship. But that path wasn’t for us.