From my other journal, dated July 20, 2002

It was going so incredibly well until Thursday. Larry and I have been reeling since then.

Larry called his psychiatrist, whom he's known for ten years, and left a message explaining the basics about the situation and asked him to call me. Dr. G did call me back, and shocked me by agreeing with what we wanted to do. I tend to second guess myself constantly, but he said it was definitely the right thing to do. He also told me he thought that the age of two is a bit young to be making this type of diagnosis, but he knows another pyshciatrist who specializes in working with children, whom he'll speak to for us on Monday. Larry is supposed to call him Tuesday and see if the other doctor can take Trent's case. It was reassuring for me to hear him say also that he knows children who have not spoken until the ages of three and four, but were in no way disabled, just a bit behind. Once speech starts it generally progresses really well, though.

We were supposed to take advantage of the fact that we had a babysitter and go out tonight but neither one of us wanted to. We are both so tired and emotionally fucked right now. It was still a nice evening though. We hung out here and had souvlaki with my mom and enjoyed each other's company.

My borther still hasn't said anything about my niece's christening, but nowadays I tend to think he's busy instead of ditching me. He's been feeling gross, his wife has been sick and he works all of the time. He told my mom he thought he had invited us and that he definitely wants to. Actually, that's good enough for me. Just to know he'd like for us to be there, even if he's too overworked to actually tell us that himself.

Dammit, he's made me like him again.

:: singing ::

You made me looooooooooooooooooooooooooove yoooooouuuu

I didn't wanna do it

I didn't wanna do it

Okay, enough of that shit.

Besides, I always wanna do it, just not with Patrick.

Ahem...

Speaking of that, it's going quite well. I bought some new bras and undies on Wednesday and modeled one of them for Larry, who was on me (literally), the minute the babies were asleep. It was indescribably wonderful. I always did love that part of our relationship, especially when I'm not on antidepressants and can actually anjoy it. The meds kind of mess it up. You get close to orgasm, then nothing. Your body acts like you've had one, but you didn't actually feel the oh so pleasant muscle contractions that go along with a mind-blowing, throw your legs behind your head orgasm.

Now that I'm off the meds, I can.

I love monogamy. I love having a one-boy one-girl relationship, having that devotion and sense of being loved and appreciated. Polygamy is over rated, I'm sure. Who the hell wants to have sex with someone who doesn't care whether you live or die?

I want romance.

Touching, holding, relaxing and being unhurried. Lots of long slow kisses and gentle attention.

Not that there aren't occasions when I want to be thrown down and fucked wildly, there are (and I certainly have no trouble communicating that). But mostly I just crave the gentle approach. I have to love the man too. I can't sleep with someone I don't love.

Yes, I'm aware how old fashioned and probably very boring that sounds to most people but that's always been...me.

I want the faerie tale, I suppose.

What girl doesn't?

** Funny footnote **

I keep putting Baby Monitor down as my current music. If I keep that up someone's bound to ask if that's a real band.

I'm surprised that no one has wondered what 12 tales is yet.