Posts Tagged ‘fucking

25
Sep
09

so good!

Wow. The last 24 hours have been… pretty spectacular. Home-coming is always great because it’s just an eye-opening reminder of how amazing I think M is. I’m sure anything I say will be written off as silly girl-emotions, but I’ve never been so consistently in awe of my partner as I am M.

Of course, something I haven’t written about was M’s proclivity of talking non-stop for hours after he returns from somewhere. This time, hilariously, he told me to tell him to stop, since his mother had just spent 5 days talking at him, non-stop. He went on about how annoying this habit was, and that he understands that he does the same. I told him that it’s part of the home-coming process, and that I love his non-stop chatter and ranting. And even his caveat didn’t stop the rapid-fire commentary on his week in the home province.

We stayed at the Fairmont, in their “gold level” accommodations, as with a military discount it didn’t make sense to take a standard king room. There were all kinds of swanky amenities that went along with it, but after the fucking that occurred, we weren’t inclined to put our clothes back on to partake in the cocktails-til-11pm, for example.
Fortunately, we DID partake in the stellar “Deluxe Continental” breakfast offered to Gold guests. Holy crap was it amazing – scrambled eggs with cheese and scallions, fresh delicious croissants, teensy ketchup bottles, cut up fruit, yogurt, tomatoes and cucumber with bocconcini and basil… the list goes on.
Checkout was noon, but after slowly getting ready, watching some clips on YouTube, and calling valet (!!!!)  to take our stuff to the car, we were out of the room just after 11am.

We wandered around downtown for an hour or so waiting for our appointment with the photographer. After some directional issues, we met up on a street corner in our preferred neighbourhood.  We discussed a little bit of what we were looking for. We’d said “nothing romantic”, but I guess we really meant nothing forced, or cheesy. We found a great doorway to a warehouse and used that for the first few shots, and then things just started to flow a little better from there. Apparently kissing was M’s favourite shot to take, because in almost every pose he kissed me. The photographer apparently noted M’s habit of brushing the hair off my face, and tried to use that in a few shots. We got some great pics at the riverfront, some against a wall of graffiti, in front of a parkade, on a construction site… she really took my comment that we are an “urban-style” couple seriously.
It was a lot of fun, and only took about 2 hours for the full shoot.

Afterwards, we were famished and roasting in the strange heat of late-September. We got the car out of valet, and drove to the italian restaurant across the river. We split some garlic/cheese bread and I had gnocchi with zucchini and goat cheese, and M had a meat lasagna. We had our usual entertainment of trashy people punching each other out on the street corner, and the fire trucks blasting out of the station across the road. Not to mention “the guy in the jacket” who was stoned off his face trying to get in the out door of the patio we were sitting on. Hah. The Capital is so trashy.

Afterwards we went to the Mall, where M spent $150 on books. I got another Post Secret book, and two novels. If anyone wants to send ME a care package, I’ll take your used books. My plan is to hibernate in alternate realities for the next 6 months, whilst sitting on a stationary bike or walking on a treadmill. Fuck the winter!!

Ahem. So after some major frustrations and minor shopping, and when the sun was low enough in the sky as to not blind us, we headed home.
We’ve been geeking out on our respective laptops since. And it’s quickly coming up on bed time.

h&v

23
Sep
09

we’ll see

I’m feeling better. A little less reluctant. A little more confident. Though my eating is out of control still, which may be masking the bulk of my anxiety.

I can’t wait until I can stop tagging my entries with ‘deployment’. How sad is it that he hasn’t even left yet.

So M flies into the Capital tomorrow around dinner time. I’m banking on Harvey’s for dinner. Then crash out in the hotel, watch some TV, have some sexin’, sleep.

I’ve arranged with a photographer to meet us in the Capital. I asked M earlier about pictures of us and he said we’d do it ourselves. I told him the other day that would require a tripod, a remote and photo editing software. This photographer is from the base, will meet us in the Capital, and will give us a CD of fully edited pictures which we can print as big or as many as we want. So, hello Christmas Presents for the family. Haha. I’m excited, since it means we’ll have good pictures of us instead of M always making his eyes cross in pictures taken by friends, or me. Goof.

We’ll head back to base some time on Friday. Saturday and maybe even Sunday he has to go into work to finish up paperwork, or something, and then Monday he hops the bus to the Capital again to fly…

I wonder how long it will take him to contact me.

Feeling a little better about him going over. Feeling a little better about me ‘being left behind’. Hah. Not that I’d want to go where he’s going.

Oh, and work sucks. Since we won the contract, it seems each and every one of us is going to get fucked when the new contract  is implemented sometime around December 1st. I asked M last night via text if I could quit, work at Home Depot and part time at Tim Horton’s. Haha. He said, “do what you’ve gotta do”. When I mentioned money, he said, “stick it out. This time next year you can be studying to become an electrician.”
We’ll see…

Tonight, cross-fit, cleaning, dyeing my hair, and a walk with J5.

h&v

17
Sep
09

ill equipped

M left this morning for his whirlwind tour of “home”. I hope it goes better for him than he anticipates.

Last night included some serious sexin’. We’ve had the conversation a few times now that we don’t “make love”, we fuck. We like it hard and fast. But in those rare moments of a long or unknown farewell, we get about as close to making love as we ever would. We call it ‘the slow fuck’.

Last night’s slow fuck was near perfection. Well, they all are, really. M is not an intuitively emotional sort of person, pretty serious things have to happen before he shows his feelings outwardly. But when we’re slow fucking, I know exactly how he feels about me.

On a sort of side note. I know he’s getting emotional about the parting as well. He’s been kissing my head. That in itself is a hint, but the frequency is something entirely more telling.

I don’t have much else. I’m working this Saturday in lieu of getting next Friday off. I’m picking up M in the Capital, and then we’re going to spend the night and have some sexin’ and enjoy the city some before heading back to the base to spend the rest of the weekend trying not to burst into tears.

Oh, we also found out from a friend whose husband is deploying with M, that the chalk is leaving at 6pm. I was really looking forward to a morning farewell, then sitting watching my favourite movies (Bridget Jones’ Diary, Stranger than Fiction, and Love Actually were on the list), in my pajamas, and eating breakfast foods for each meal.

Nothing like an emotional enema.

I’m really starting to feel ill equipped for this. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.

h&v




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