All the way down. Fast.

unseen footage of my lover Mr.Big taking me all the way down in an elevator

The strangest, most disturbing thing in my week of anxiety attacks were the flashes.
It was how a movie would show that someone is overworked:
Images, totally unrelated, flashed before my eyes. Like a slide show on acid.
I never had those.
I was familiar with anxiety, or with hearing music or a beep in your ears if you’ve been listening to your ipod too much. Or attended a concert.
Familiar with the rollercoaster going on in your stomach after visiting a theme park. Or even with the imaginary rollercoaster after drinking too much.
I was familiar with the residue of the day, going on and on, hammering your senses. But I had never re-experienced a day I never had. With images I never saw before, popping up with stroboscopic speed the moment you closed your eyes.
And I didn’t like it.
But of course I accepted it.
Like I accepted all signs of my whole being kicking into panic mode, after changing my yoga business from group classes to privates. It was a process, it was all just change. And I took pride in knowing I was not running away from this.
I had also made my peace with my sex life being practically non-existent, simply because my lover was basically non-existent. He was probably still very much present in the lives of his loved ones but I had no way of telling.
Aside from a nice platonic date, we had two weeks ago (and on which he didn’t offer any other explanation than the usual “busy” one), I didn’t know what was going on in his life.
Although rebuilding my business, and him being barely present in my life, were two separate reasons I was living a life without pleasure, I did suspect my business or new life may even cost me the last opportunity I had seeing my lover.
Because for the last year or so, Mr.Big had barely ever offered to see me at nighttime. He usually suggested something within hours, and on weekdays.
Something I would soon not be able to accommodate.
The perk of teaching privates versus groups was that I would shift to, well; actually making money!
Lol.
But also to working regular hours.
And I still had two nights of group classes as well.
Putting my entire workload on weekdays and nights, with the exception of two  nights off, meant that I could really take time off on weekends.
But the weekends would not be good for my lover Mr.Big.
First of all because he had never invited me over on weekends. With a few exceptions, which were all in our first year.
And secondly, if he would want to see me then, it would probably be last minute and I would already have other plans.
Getting my new business on the road could be seen as exciting, or a necessity; as an opportunity or as a SURE THING this was gonna build me an empire.
But the first thing I really saw was how my new business was the death verdict for our affair.
The thing that would kill it.
Yet, it was still a no-brainer. The new company would happen, regardless.
Because there wasn’t an available choice that could prevent this.
The only career that would allow me to keep the same level of availability, was if I would make money as a writer, working from home. A career that was one I didn’t even aspire… not really! I mean I love writing (see me go!) but to write for money is an entire different ball game. I would never want to literally write FOR money – meaning under contract. Because it would mean I had to write something somebody else wanted to sell.
And not what I want to create.
So that’s not an option.
Then the second option is to start living from selling my diaries and erotica. I still might push that more. One day… I don’t know. But before I sell so many books that it makes me a full income is both an incredible leap, and it’s something that I could also work next to having a “real” job.
As a side hustle.
Becoming a successful writer will always remain an option, regardless of how my life looks.
With writing out of the way, as the only “career” choice that would sustain my current super available, flexible status, I don’t have to think about what it means to me that my new business might finish off my relationship.
A new normal job would have done the same thing.
And yet, if we’re meant to be we’re meant to be. It can only be the death of it, if there is not enough left to keep it going in the first place. So also from that perspective there is nothing that can be prevented. Nor counted upon.
But still, I didn’t look forward to actually having to say “No”, if he asked me out on a last minute date.
I was afraid it would look like I was punishing him or something. Playing games. Not that there’s anything wrong with declining all dates that are not booked at least 24 hours in advance. That is actually a great rule.
Just not one I live by!
🙂
Anyway, with that bleak future hanging over us, or at least the threat of a new stage in our relationship which we may or may not be able to make it work, I was enjoying my last week as Ms. Available.
Even my two weekends, the last one and the current one, had remained open to the very last minute. As if I wanted to fully suck up the freedom and endless possibilities that had been My Life for years at this point.
There was only one day, one out of nine, that was completely full. Double booked even. First I would teach, then have lunch with my students, clean the yoga studio, attend an opening, and finally a dinner party at night.
Ultimately I chose to cancel on the opening.
My anxiety attacks had climaxed that night and I didn’t have any sleep.
I needed to get to bed for a nap, so that I would be able to attend the dinner.
And it was on this morning that I got a message.
From my lover.
To meet.
At noon.
And it contained the best date proposal in for as long as I can remember. With a cute joke, and a loving reference to something we had said we had wanted to do together.
And I was like.
FUCK.
BIG FUCK.
JESUS CHRIST HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLE FUCK.
And I knew that I had been right. That we had entered the new stage in our relationship where I would no longer be able to accommodate his last minute invitations. No matter how tempting they were, and no matter how much I wanted to say yes.
That this new life of mine was going to ask me to give it all up for my work. My social life (I barely saw friends at this stage). My sex life. My freedom.
Maybe I would even have to work the weekends I had so carefully blocked out.
I had no idea how much would be asked of me to make my business work, but I knew for certain, with that text coming in at the one day where I couldn’t make it, that it was required of me to be willing to give it all up.
To go all in.
To lose, and to give, and to invest, and to see the ground being swept from underneath me. With everything I valued on it.
I slept like a baby that night.
There were no more stroboscopic slide shows. No more heart pains. No more trembling and no more fears.
But there was the feeling of falling, of letting go. Of sex. Of surrendering. Of being taken brutally, by my lover. Of completely giving in to our most deviant sexual fantasies. Or maybe I should say to “my” most deviant sexual fantasies.
It was like a porn movie, with me in it.
And him.
Bringing me all, ALL the way down.

To be continued..

Want to know how if my life really is, or isn’t, going to be as sexless as I feared?
So do I!
LOL
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An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

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Mango                                 €15
coming of age novelle

22 erotische verhalen   € 15
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