Entry Six: It’s Not a Hoop, It’s a Ride

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What it is I worry.



I worry that he won’t believe in my dreams. ๐Ÿ˜”๐Ÿ˜”๐Ÿ˜”๐Ÿ˜” Won’t think they’re plausible. Feasible. Whatever…๐Ÿ˜‘๐Ÿ˜’

Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ is all about the financial precision. Those “hoops” he jumps through are the metaphorical hoops of businessmen. The people who actually get shit done, everything is in talk of numbers. ๐Ÿค”๐Ÿค”๐Ÿค”๐Ÿค‘๐Ÿค‘ The small magic of the world I believe in, what makes me kooky ๐ŸŒš๐ŸŒž๐Ÿ”ฎ๐Ÿบ I don’t believe Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ finds rationality in it. What use is that trait to him? I told him today that I am all those things that he isn’t.

I feel that all qualities he hasn’t, he doesn’t mind because they aren’t crucial or necessary in a game of life. That’s not the tools that make you win. โŒ›๏ธโŒ›๏ธ๐Ÿ†๐Ÿ†
That’s my take on it.

That’s what I think he means by “jumping through the hoops of life.” He’s cutthroat. To the point. I am not that way. If I have a point to get across, most times yes, I’m to the point. โ˜๐Ÿผ๏ธโ˜๐ŸผBut on a larger scale, my approach on life doesn’t have that soldierly structure like his. He’s a man. And he’s good at being one. ๐Ÿ™Œ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ™Œ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘Œ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘Œ๐Ÿผ

He has a tendency to lecture. To give authoritative instruction, whether intended for wisdom or advice. He’s bossy. I suppose I am as well, but I doubt I’ve ever made him feel like he should question his whole life approach, and maybe he should. I feel as if he would think my life is a silly amateur facade that’s sure to not make any real such uprising. ๐Ÿ˜”๐Ÿ˜” I don’t want to be insecure, and I know that’s a lie because I know I’ll make it. I may not know how to exactly answer your questions on my dreams or plan on life, but I haven’t done anything but become better. Do better. I am not organized like he is, my thought processes aren’t as fine tuned as his are on money and that road to success.

Don’t get me wrong I have a plan, things I will see accomplished, but I suppose I’m not comfortable enough to share those with him, to brainstorm. ๐Ÿค”๐Ÿค” suppose I feel judged. Whether he is or isn’t,  those eyes are constantly measuring ๐Ÿ“๐Ÿ“๐Ÿ“I don’t want to one day be scolded, like so often his friends. ๐Ÿ˜ก๐Ÿ˜ก๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘โ˜๐Ÿผ๏ธโ˜๐Ÿผbut like do I need to be????? No. I’m Rina P. ๐Ÿ‘Š๐Ÿผ

I only worry… I worry he’s not going to like me in the long run.๐Ÿ˜”๐Ÿ˜”๐Ÿ˜” Those artsy “fun and games” aren’t what successful sensible people do. That I’m too kooky. ๐Ÿ˜•๐Ÿ˜• I am a goofy woman, destined to be a goofy OLD woman. ๐Ÿ‘ต๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ต๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ต๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ต๐Ÿฝ๐Ÿ‘ต๐Ÿฝ I won’t ever be different. Does he want that in his life? The woman who can reasonably see the magic in everything? The imagination that spurs the accumulation of wands, books, and art? I told him that his family must have a soft spot for artists, ๐ŸŽจ๐ŸŽญ๐ŸŽป๐ŸŽฌ  he will be the second one I know for sure has a desire for one…. He must like me. I know he does…. I’ve seen that too in his eyes. ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ˜ Curious it was for ๐Ÿ—Tom๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ to ask if I was happy with him.

Maybe I think too much. I want to be happy. I want to be the light in someone’s life. I want to be that woman who is the escape to his numbers, hustle & bustle.โŒš๏ธ๐Ÿ“ฑ๐Ÿ“ž๐Ÿ“ž๐Ÿ“žโ›ฝ๏ธโ›ฝ๏ธ๐Ÿ’ฒ I want to be his exotic life. ๐ŸŒท๐ŸŒท His love life. โค๏ธโค๏ธ His exciting life. His absolutely amazing life. โ›ฑ๐Ÿ—ฝ๐Ÿ•Œ I want to be part of the magic in it. ๐Ÿ”ฎ๐Ÿ”ฎ๐Ÿ”ฎ๐Ÿ”ฎ๐Ÿ”ฎโ˜๏ธโ˜๏ธ I want him in MY life. ๐Ÿ˜Œ๐Ÿ˜Œ๐Ÿ˜Š๐Ÿ˜Š๐Ÿ˜Š๐Ÿ˜š๐Ÿ˜š๐Ÿ˜š

I want to show him the benefits to being only yourself. Empowered by your spirit. ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿป๐ŸฆBecause life is about that. Its about the beauty this world has to offer us. ๐ŸŒŽ๐ŸŒ๐ŸŒIt’s about the love you can share with someone as a partnership that’s nothing more than a solid devoted team. ๐Ÿ‘‹๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘‹๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ‘ฅ๐Ÿ‘ฅ I want to take some pages from his book ๐Ÿ“•and him from mine ๐Ÿ““ I want him to know that to me life isn’t a hoop, it’s a ride.

๐ŸŽข๐ŸŽข๐Ÿš€๐Ÿš€It’s a vision. We could have a wild and beautiful life if that’s what we decided, we could do some damage. โ›ต๏ธโ›ต๏ธ๐Ÿžโ›บ๏ธ๐ŸŒƒ๐ŸŽ†โ›ฐ๐Ÿ—ป๐ŸŒ‹๐ŸŒŒ ๐Ÿ„๐Ÿผ๐ŸŽฃ๐ŸŽฟ๐ŸŽฟ๐ŸŽช๐ŸŽท๐ŸŽณ๐ŸŽฐ๐ŸŽŸ I would give my all to my partner. I would take the advice he gave me as constructive. ๐Ÿ› ๐Ÿ› ๐Ÿ”ฉ๐Ÿ”ฉ I would make myself a better person by learning from him. I want him to take me under his wing as my Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ. He does make me feel safe. ๐Ÿ›กโš” No one will hurt his girl, in any way if he can help it. ๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜Š I want us to have the same goal as a team. Believe in me baby because I no doubt believe in you. Now that I think about it, I’m just worried… I am afraid.

Yes… He makes me happy.

I am happy with you ๐Ÿ—Big๐ŸŒตBear๐ŸŒŸ.

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Entry Five: I Could Do That

diary

I was sitting in a red round faux leather bound chair mesmerized by the lights of the penny, fruit, and classic slot machines whirring around the smoke filled room. The pink, white, and yellow blurred my vision as I spun on the chairs’ silver metal base; my ears bombarded with bells and dings beckoning patrons to put in a $1. For some reason I was here at the Indian casino near Newkirk, Oklahoma, every money voucher I print with less and less cash. I took a swig of my red punch I got from the table near the back of the casino. I felt my teeth indenting the Styrofoam while I peered over the top at my Pink Panther themed loyalty slot machine.

The idea was the longer I played the more chances I had at winning. No question as to why it’s called a “loyalty” slot; I had been hypnotized by the tall lean panther, repeatedly walking back and forth for damn near 20 minutes trying to line up the bombs, Q’s, and J’s. I peered over my cup again and scanned the room like a lifeguard. The panther took the occasional pause to prop his pink leg on the edge of the screen, seeming impatient like myself. The loud noise put me on edge, high alert. Who did I come here with? I asked myself, now aware that I haven’t been to Native Lights Casino in at least eight years.

The reason for that is I am an admittedly terrible gambler, my reasoning for avoiding casinos. Betting on chance is my least favorite thing to do. It felt empty and eerie to be there; I breathed in the second hand smoke and shifted uncomfortably. Why haven’t I left yet? I realized now that there must be a reason I was there. I sipped the red punch again, chilled by the high fructose corn syrup coating my molars. My scene continued on an endless loop when suddenly I saw it.

He came around the corner adjusting his familiar silver belt buckle with his family’s crest. His button nose sat pretty on top of his grin, his grey polo tucked into his jeans. The lights reflected off his cheek as he strode to accompany me. Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ sat to my right smiling though when I looked up from my cup to greet his eyes, my scene disappeared. The cup and casino were gone.

***

The morning sun flooded into the bedroom onto the cold granite floor. His tacky camouflage bed sheets underneath our cheeks, our noses almost touching. The chilled breeze from the fan made me appreciate the warmth of his skin on mine. Awoken by the light, we paused to look at one another silently.

Imagine how he feels looking in my eyes the way he does…

Hmm… it will always seem to be a mystery. Those thoughts that don’t merit a possibility of breaking the surface yet. Those things I feel… I only have half the nerve to even write them down. Those things that I feel for ๐Ÿ—Big๐ŸŒตBear๐ŸŒŸfrighten me to say the least. I have obviously always been 100% wrong with men, (hence why I’m single now), so I think I should take this with a grain of salt.

But…. Man. Mannn oh man. I wonder. Ya know? What’s he thinking behind those eyes of his? The way he looks at me sometimes. So deeply. As if he could see so far into your soul you panic and dash to break your gaze, but you’re afraid of the consequences! So you maintain face, forcing yourself to remain emotionless. And you stare back, because he would know everything if you didn’t. Just like that! โ˜

Everything. He wins. ๐ŸŽ–๐Ÿ…๐Ÿ†

And how irrational is that?

I find myself wanting to give over to the other side of me. A woman who craves nothing but the chemistry we seem to be bursting with, but how long will that last? There’s always a point in time. That point where my creativity becomes an annoyance, my stupid jokes are ignored. My ex told me once I wasn’t even worth coming home to. That cuts deep, maybe I don’t see the light. I know it’s there, but I’ve never been a gambling woman. To take a chance with this guy signifies a vulnerability, but he makes it so easy… So easy to want him. I’m betting all my money on five pink panthers in a row like it’s the right thing to do.

I am sure he wonders the same thing. What is she thinking? I know he is captivated by me. My dark eyes have no bottom, that’s what my gaze means. He could have all of me, anything of me; my mind, body, and soul. I trust him to take it. I feel that safety, the willingness to give myself to him. I don’t even think twice about it!!๐Ÿ’ฅ Boom ๐Ÿ’ฅ Just go!! It’s a raging desire I feel sometimes when he looks at me… Those few seconds that stretch into forever…. What do you call that?

I could be here forever I think. I could wake up by this hairy chest everyday. I could let these hazel green eyes know my deepest secrets. I could believe every word he ever spoke, knowing he wouldn’t lead me astray. I could follow him. A soul I knew better than to let slip by, I want to hold onto it. Save me! I plead. Take me from this life. Let us live this life together, let us not be alone anymore. 

 

Entry Three: A Word for It

diary

These past two days of dancing has worn me out. My knees ache so badly. 

Imagine your knee is a thin glass bowl suspended in the air. Place a dense rock softly but heavily in the bowl. The weight of the rock would crack across that thin glass. That is how my knees feel, a soft pressure that slowly creeps on. My knees ache under the pressure of my body, and so I went and soaked. ๐Ÿ›

I ran a bath and tossed in four handfuls of Epsom salt; one, two, three, and four. The salt beaded and caressed over my hands, tempting me to toss more than I needed. The water filled and filled, menthol steaming into the air. The heat billowed to fog the mirror and windows and Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ came in and quietly took off his clothes.

“I’m only going to put my feet in,” he said smiling as he stepped in. I washed my body onto his legs, calm and collected, his idea was fine with me. My breasts bobbed in the water, gliding as he turned off the faucet, then he looked at me to smile.

 “I’m getting in with you.” He grinned, happy to change his mind. I loved the idea and was ecstatic to see that soon I would live a fantasy. ๐Ÿ™Œ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ™Œ๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ™Œ๐Ÿผ Let me tell you about the music, oh the music makes the story.  I turned on the 50+ mix of songs by Alina Baraz.

The water rippled as he sank into the deep tub, our exhaustion and angst was soothed by the warmth of the water. He sat to my left, his arm around my shoulder and comfortably I closed my eyes. The tempo was so slow, como a heartbeat, and I relaxed into his brace and breathed with the music. Every muscle of my body lettingh go, releasing my bones from their grip and I drifted to a state of sleep. He slowly ran his fingers on my breasts, stomach, and thighs, keeping me anchored between torpor and bliss.

As the songs followed one another his touch awoke my desire. I rolled on top of him to move my hips in circles with the music. Slowly and gracefully I flowed through the water to the sweetness of the words in her song:

๐ŸŽถ All that you are

is all that I need

Your eyes are like the smoke

you linger on me๐ŸŽถ

I looked at his submerged skin and the floating hair on his chest. I rocked my hips and felt him aroused as I slowly danced before letting him inside. The way he looked at me…. Wow… What an expression.

I have always compared him to characters and personalities I’ve categorized from people I’ve met or seen in movies. He is so different to me, foreign really, I suppose I need to relate him to something I know to understand how he ticks. I long to trust who he is and his thoughts, responses and spirit. ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿพ

The more time that accumulates, the better this is, a trust, a soft bed that gradually becomes softer and softer as we sink in. Now, we’re enveloped, I’m in his bear arms as he caresses and touches his lips upon my skin.๐Ÿ‘„๐Ÿ‘„๐Ÿ‘„ This is where time stretched for miles… ๐Ÿ•š๐Ÿ•ฆ๐Ÿ•›๐ŸŒ“๐ŸŒ’๐ŸŒ‘๐ŸŒš๐ŸŒš๐ŸŒš๐ŸŒš

I waited to be disappointed by the playlist, something surely alas would ruin our utopia! But nothing did… One song after another, I was neither rushed nor disappointed but desired for more. He continually longed to feel himself inside of me and the rhythm aided us while we passionately made love. Our deepest secrets spilled over the edges, no longer contained. He told me how he desired to come inside me making me tighten lustfully as an animal. Our thoughts twisted and morphed by our intimacy, behold we are simple creatures.

I remember finding myself gaping in pleasure. My thoughts floating through my mind like a drifting cloud. The wet strands of my curls dripped and dangled in my face as I caught myself lured by passion to confess how I loved him, but insecurity stayed me silent. 

His muscles flexed while his face remained ever so focused. His amber eyes piercing into me. I waited for the moment where our sight is broken and we would laugh, but he didn’t smile, nor did he frown.

He pushed in the water, the buoyancy floating him up to render me speechless. And it continued… and so I cannot think of what else to say except that my feelings for Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ are irrevocable.

Entry Two: Someone Equal

diary

His black truck slowly rocked and bucked as we drove over the Mars red dirt of the ranch. Ten miles an hour we rolled on and I gaped out the window at the 22,000 acre vacation spot of our weekend. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸsmile, I smiled back.

Silently I faced away and looked out the window, the breeze light as it passed through, the orange sun nestled heavily, rising into the sky. A barbed-wire gate came into view, the brakes of the Dodge groaned to a halt. I hopped out to open it.

Cattle stared at me 20 foot away, dumb, no expression on their fuzzy winter faces as I dragged open the stick lattice fence, digging a little trench through the dirt. Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ passed through, his arm dangling out his window.

What ya’ll looking at, I say rhetorically, the cattle don’t answer, I hop back into the truck. He drove to the edge of what looked like a steep cliff. Once parked, Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ pulled two corn bags from the bed of the truck and slung them over each of his shoulders, then walked to the edge of ravine, he looked back at me.

“Be careful,” he said, and over the edge he went.

I stood there frozen for a second and when his hat disappeared I quickly ran to look over the drop. A steep path was worn into the dirt to lead a way down, a V-shape groove lacking any sure footing. Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ was quick and made it halfway down the slope before I hurriedly followed, the momentum of the trek downward speeding my steps, my footfalls warning him of my approach and he ran faster. This was a race, so I ran.

The finish line was green metal deer feeders 200 foot away, short cow-paneling enclosed a 400 square foot space, he hopped the panels. He huffed with the two feed bags over his shoulders and we laughed. 

“They call me the fastest man in boots.” He says. I tell him, I bet they do.

Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ climbed a metal ladder along the side of a feeder to pour the corn, telling me an inaudible story. I stare up at him, his T-shirt floating away from his body, I look up his shirt at the hair on his stomach, the corn banging loudly making it hard to hear.

I listened to the last kernels in the bag as it emptied and he stepped down, tossing it to the ground, the crinkling bag fell like a feather. We look at each other.

“Now this feeder here is clogged or somethin’.” He gestured to a structure aside us. “We gotta take all the grain out and unclog it, then refill it. Can you put that bucket underneath?” He pointed at a black 30 gallon bucket near the panels. I went and grabbed it, then positioned it under the feeder as he climbed the ladder and opened the hatch to spill out the corn. The process didn’t really work, corn sprayed out from the opening shooting in every direction it seemed but straight down. I moved out of the way, corn flying like bullets. It emptied and emptied, the hard kernels rattling like bells as it pockmarked the ground around the bucket. Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ climbed down to watch the show, frowning at the percentage of corn that actually went into the bucket.

When emptied the silence of the ranch resumed with a hum. A huge pile of corn surrounded the black bucket, golden slanting corn hills crested from the sides. I bent down and cleared a spot for my knees and began to scoop big handfuls into the half-full bucket.

“You don’t have to do that baby,” Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ says, “It will get eaten regardless.”

Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ laughs and kneels down beside me into the corn and puts his hands under my arms around my waist. He pulled me to him and kissed me, rolling onto his back, the corn cascaded under him from the sides, it cracked and popped until I laid atop of him atop our golden bed and I kiss him back.

“I oughta have my way with you right here in this corn,” he said quietly smiling, kissing me again and again. All I did was smirk and kiss him back.

Entry One: Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ

diary

I am not sure what prompts me to say anything at all…

Big๐Ÿ—Bear๐ŸŒต๐ŸŒŸ is a man that coincidentally fell into my life. As clichรฉ as the West, he was a tumbleweed rolling in. I remember the first time I laid eyes on him, sitting down among a group of three friends, all except for him about the same height, one with a wounded and bandaged hand. They ordered from a waitress and conversed amongst themselves excitedly and wheeled and scooted in the dingy suede chairs until they deemed themselves comfortable. He wore a cowboy hat making him easy to spot, and I quickly assessed him as the most good-looking of the group. His hat was cream, cattleman style, the texture fuzzy as if it were soft to the touch. Underneath his hat was a boyish grin with a smile from the dreams of a dentist. He wore an expensive, light-colored, pressed shirt, a baby blue patterning revealed its lavish. His long legs steeped higher than the average person as he sat, one large leather boot resting upon his knee.

When I approached him his smile revealed almost every tooth in his mouth and I gladly took a seat. He was most extremely polite, a surprise and relief to find colloquial conversation. Many men who strolled in pre-aware they were handsome spoke to us with a stingy entitlement, so I took to his hospitality and wit and enjoyed my first meeting with a young Texas cowboy. The conversation that unfolded would undoubtedly curve the path of my audacious life, and imprint upon both of us in measures we neither could have expected.