Rightfully so.
I don’t know how to truly let go. Not even talking submission—although, yeah, that, too—but also how to release my old pain and mistrust to make room for something new with them.
I did that once before, and look where it got me?
A broken heart after losing the love of my life, who fell hard for the evil motherfucker I’ve twisted myself into knots trying to keep alive for the past two-plus years, all while I had to bury her and console her children.
And console the motherfucker.
Yes, he’s a handsome and, at times, adorable motherfucker, but he’s still an evil motherfucker.
Doesn’t mean I don’t love the motherfucker.
Hey, Ellen used to call him that, too. She’s the one who came up with the nickname, although she used to call him that with a smile and a sassy, bratty tone in her voice that he loved. It always lit a spark in his eyes when she did, I could see it.
Anyway, Declan helped keep the motherfucker alive. George told me that, after he returned from his Hell, he rarely slept more than a couple of hours at a time. Never a full night.
Until Declan and him got together.
Declan was likely well on his way to a tragic, lonely death when I met him. He began to blossom with me, flourishing over the years, but he really didn’t begin to shine until I let George play with him.
George has recovered so much of his old self ever since the night I introduced him into the relationship I have with Declan and basically handed the boy over to him.
Now, I can see hints ofmyold George twinkling from within the hard, scorched shell of the man he’s become. The sadist within him has been unleashed, free to play once more, and Declan revels in his attention.
Together, they are something completely different and better than they each were separately. It’s breathtaking to watch in action. Pure and raw and primal and visceral.
Healing. For both of them.
I wish I could join them.
Ireallywish I could.
But trust doesn’t come easy. I’ve spent a lot of my nights trapped in my own lonely Hell.
Especially since it was Ellen who I trusted, and who first quieted the noises inmybrain.
And it was George who stole her from me.
* * * *
As I lie here this morning between the two goobers, I stare at the ceiling and debate trying to crawl out via the end of bed. I spend a couple of minutes pondering whether or not I think I can accomplish it without waking either of them.
It’s only 4:37 a.m., which is later than I sleep on the average Wednesday.
Except I promised them if George made a damn good showing in his primary election last night that we could take the day off today, and that they could sleep late.
Considering George was running unopposed in an open primary, and it looks like a goodly chunk of Democrat voters defected and voted for him, I’m liking his chances for the general election in November.
But a lot of shit can change between last night’s August primary and the November general.
Like he could make a stupid gaffe, or some other unforced error.
Such as getting caught on camera canoodling with Declan. Or his chief of staff could get arrested for murder.
Oh, wait. That’sme.
Let’s just hope I don’t makethatmistake. I’d hate to cost him the election.
