6/25/2023

So I had a very sexual dream about a woman I know but haven't met. ⚡C⚡, as I shall refer to her, lives in northern New Jersey and loves having her feet worshipped and played with.
Last year there were a few near-misses on us hooking up in that manner but one time there wasn't any real communication about when to come up. Especially since I have to drive ninety miles into the boonies. By my estimation we both messed up on that encounter. The second time I fucked up due to a moral crisis and fear because it was so evident ⚡C⚡ was married and only engaging in her kink because she had her husband's permission and strict rules about the activity. I figured I'd just get bored after a while if I didn't have the opportunity to see her massive, primitive goddess tits or eat her out. She teased me a little bit via InstaGram and SnapChat but that seems to have tapered off. In late May I had a resurgence after browsing her photos on a specific social media site and decided "fuck it, just do it". I was forward and she said to just message her to schedule a time and date but her dance card is full during the month of June. Honestly I need human touch and contact by any means. I'm starved for intimacy.
Any intimacy.
Just I think hiring a prostitute is a huge mistake. A mistake that transcends mere frugality but not a moral mistake.
Worse she's attending TESTFest, a huge kink convention in Piscataway, New Jersey, and will probably get her kinky needs fulfilled for quite some time. So I'm not really hanging my hat on playing around with her anytime soon.

Anyway in the dream we did manage to meet up at her place. It was very rural, considering the black bears in her yard, but she had a comfortable space. There wasn't much in the way of action in the dream but ⚡C⚡ and I found ourselves chatting more in a vanilla context. I guess it conveys my demisexuality, the quality or characteristic of being sexually attracted only to people with whom one has a close emotional relationship, and not on the basis of first impressions, physical characteristics, etc., before any real action occurs. The rest of the dream involved a squirrel on the branch of a tree, trying to survive in the wake of the end of the world as we knew it, and avoiding an encounter with her husband. Not that I did anything, but rather having him involved in any way even if he's giving his consent for her to consent to specific sexual or parasexual activities.

A shame considering I genuinely believe ⚡C⚡ is beautiful even if she doesn't meet society's standard of beauty.

In a similar vein I attended a writing workshop at the cat rescue on Friday night.
Friday was a very long day for me since my job doing invoicing is tedious, repetitive, and eats up nine hours of a day. Nine hours because there's an unpaid hour for lunch. I guess it's because the company's owner reckons if we're servicing retail locations then we need to have the same availability as retail locations in case a toilet gets clogged or water diverters need to be hung.

When I arrived at the rescue I sat on the bench in the back awaiting 6:30 to roll around. Wound up having to come inside to use the bathroom and was greeted by a woman volunteer I met back on the 11th. Sure I'd like to get to know her but her volunteering schedule seems to be haphazard and, coupled with my social anxiety, I don't know if I'd be able to make an impression. I also struggle with the 'twins', they're not really twins but 'Catholic' twins since they were born so close together, and I don't know how to make either of their acquaintances correctly since I don't want to be let down by failing or turned down then completely making my volunteering at the rescue even more awkward.

Back outside after my odious business, Leah texts me and mentions how she's attending the workshop. Awkward. But everything went well, for what it's worth. I messed up the unstructured first writing exercise and the woman leading the group admitted that could happen then apologized. The second exercise I wrote a short story about Odin who is a black cat hanging out at the rescue and it was a hit.

One of the women who attended was named Rachel but wanted to be called Liz. She was very small and thin and I was curious about her, yet Leah was there. Ever since the separation I want to keep my private life entirely private from Leah because I don't want to her about her private life. I feel sharing anything will open a door that I don't want opened.

a letter to chimera

At the cat rescue writing workshop the final exercise was to write a letter to one of the cats. Unfortunately we had only 5 minutes left and the woman leading the group encouraged people to email our letters to her. I just finished writing my letter to Chimera, yet another black cat cooling his heels at the rescue.

Dear Chimera,

To me you are a paragon of what it means to be a genuine cat. In one moment you are sweet, desirous of attention, rubbing yourself appreciatively against human hands. Within the blink of an eye, you turn spicy and begin scratching those same humans or biting their hands because you've had enough.

You have the personality of a cat, knowing to be polite after being given treats and remembering who was generous to you, then becoming aloof as you hide yourself away in one of the many hideyholes around the cat room.

Just want to admit to you that I am fond of you simply because you are a black cat. Years ago I shared my life with a black cat, a Bombay. Yet he was no mere cat but a familiar. A piece of my soul made manifest outside of this body, full of all the good and sweet things I know I have to give but feel are unappreciated by other people. I'm not going to say it's because people are rude or self-centered, nor am I going to blame myself for being socially awkward with an inability to effectively convey 'me' to others. This cat was named Dorp and he truly was my familiar. We were inseparable until he suddenly passed away in July of 2017.

He was barely seven years old.

Almost as old as noble Odin.

A piece of my heart died that day in July. In Dungeons & Dragons it's written in the rules that a magic user who has lost a familiar must roll vs. death or die himself. Or suffer some tremendous malady in addition to profound mourning for the wee, beloved beast. Sometimes I wish I had failed that roll and joined him.

But there are other black cats in the world who need love and attention and protection. Without me, what would be their lot in life?

For my fondness for you, I will say that when you are truly affectionate and desirous of affection I feel blessed and appreciated which makes my heart grown four sizes. Coupled with you being a black cat and with a no-nonsense personality just makes me want to try harder, make you understand this human is harmless to you and will move mountains if only you asked.

Maybe some day I will find a piece that will fill the broken part of my heart which still aches to this day. Even if it requires several smaller pieces. It may not be you, handsome Chimera, but I know you are a fit for someone else's broken heart and lend them renewed hope.

See you on Sunday morning,

Chris (the bearded guy)

nota bene

I need to choose a color to code my writing, much in the way I use various shades of purple for dream categories or yellow for gaming, blue for stuff not written by me, red for holidays (get it, red letter days?), bold white for headlines, and black text on a pumpkin-colored background for Hallowe'en. Maybe I'll use orange for my writing.

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