More Complicated than Lust for my Husband

Last Friday morning was orgasmic to the extreme. I’ve never felt the lustful feeling for anyone the way I yearned for my husband to be inside me. By the look in his eyes and the sensation he gave me when he squeezed my erect nipples, I knew that he was lusting over me, too. I love the feeling of spontaneous sex (the only thing I will ever do spontaneous). Making love is awesome, but lustful, toe curling, hip thrusting, hair pulling sex is an explosion of fun too!! I love when he grabbed my hips and pushed them towards his. I never knew that spooning sex can be so fucking arousing. He couldn’t resist my tightness and I couldn’t hold back from his hardness. It was a Friday morning to remember and one I will never forget

Is it weird that the TV was on during the Pope speech in the Capital? Nah!

On a serious note, my sex drive is on overtime. I cannot stop thinking about having sex with him. I want to fuck his brains out every single day. When he tells me he loves me or how beautiful I am, all I want is to get primal on him. I want to jump on him and rip his clothes off. He knows it, but tries to play it off as a joke. I don’t know if this is my biological clock ticking and making me this way, but whatever it is, it is driving me up the wall. All I do is think about it. I think about it so much that I get a bit moist. I have to do my deed on a daily basis, sometimes more than once a day. The more  sex we have, the more I want it. I think I may be tiring him out right about now.

Oh, the complications of a woman and her hormones. At least I lust over my husband. I’m just glad I am married. If I weren’t, I would probably be in BIG trouble or own a blow-up doll with a 50-shades-of-grey type room.

-complicatedlove239 (nympho-style)

More Complicated than Religion Itself

Well, it’s been a while since I’ve posted. I mean, not a long long time, but still, it’s been a bit. I’m sorry for that, work’s been a bit crazy and all I do is come home to relax, not write. Well, I’m back people and here to tell you all the drama caught up in the mist. I might be posting a bunch this week, as I have a lot to say.

I was raised a Catholic, says my grandmother, but I never step foot in a Catholic church since I was baptized as an infant. We never prayed at the dinner table or before bed. Sundays consisted of relaxing, watching TV and playing ball outside. My upbringing did not involve religion, just morals and values. Some of these morals and values I follow, because they are pretty basic, but others are downright horrible and I will never follow.

My husband had a totally different upbringing. Church on Sundays, pray at the dinner table, before bed, the communion, and don’t get me started about our wedding issues. Needless to say, we have our differences in opinions, but he is pro-choice and for marriage equality. He definitely did not learn that in church or from his home (his father is much like my grandparents).

I went to church for a few weeks. My grandmother was all about the religious front. She wanted everyone to THINK we were with the Lord in our home. I was about 11 or 12 years old and she wanted me to go to Sunday school. Sitting there, among these teens that could recite the bible as if they wrote it, was weird, but the worst part were the teachers. They were beyond radical. Maybe because I wasn’t raised like my husband was, I find this weird and he finds it normal. Either way, I feel like these kids were completely brainwashed by the crap these teachers were feeding them about sex before marriage and shit. The reason why we stopped going: my grandmother, mother, brother and myself were at the Sunday mass and the pastor started talking smack about a woman’s place in the house. I was already in a bad mood with the previous bull shit mass he had spoken at and this was the last straw. I got up and just lost it. I told a pastor off in the middle of a Sunday mass. My grandmother just pinched me and I just kept going. As I stormed off, the room fell silent and deadly. My family stormed off quick and in a hurry. My mother applauded me, but my grandmother was not so forgiving. I got hit with a belt, but I knew I was right, because my grandmother wore the pants in our household, as well. She was just embarrassed. My mother told her that she should have known better than to take a feminist to a church full of sexist pigs, and she was right.

So, why this blog about our spiritual upbringing?

Well, I needed to discuss religion with my husband, in reference to raising our child (if or when we have one). Well, let’s just say it got heated. I have always believed that your body and mind should be your own interpretation of the bible and the Lord, and not have to rely on some idiot to interpret a book written 3500 years ago. What is right? What is wrong? Do you believe in faith? Is God real? These are all questions I ask myself over and over again. I believe that religion should be about asking a million questions and I believe it should be taught at home. Go once a week to a mass for open discussion, but children should be taught their parents’ beliefs at home. This whole Sunday school isn’t a thing I want my children to be apart of. But, of course, he does. I don’t like the Catholic Church, but he was raised Catholic and he is not changing his religion for anyone, he says. My whole thing is that I was not raised religious and I don’t know much about it to be able to really understand the true meaning of faith, but I want my child to be able to think for himself and make his own decision (or she).

So, I came up with a solution. We start going to Catholic church once or twice a month until I feel that the child is in understanding of what’s going on, maybe 9 or 10 years old. At that time, he or she can choose to go to Sunday school if they feel so strongly about it.

I do believe in something, but I also believe in making your own destiny and not counting on someone/something to do it for you. Free will and all!

And, I lied, I did go to two Catholic Churches with my husband and I felt soooooo uncomfortable in those places. It was too formal, with the big bishop hats, male dresses, alter boys and the singing in tongues. The scariest parts about a Catholic church: shaking strangers’ hands and drinking the wine out of the same cup 40 other people drank out of….because it’s Jesus blood!!! Holy Cow!!!!!! How about use a straw or disposible shot glasses….I can’t do it….I don’t know where that woman’s mouth has been!! LoL….I was definitely NOT raised religious! I was most definitely raised AMERICAN! Germophobe!

What do you guys think? What’s you take on all this? If you have children, what did you and your spouse end up deciding?


More Complicated than a Stranger’s Wedding


It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything and I apologize for that. Work has been pretty busy and this last month, my husband got a promotion at work and he has home in the afternoons. We’ve been keeping……..busy, I guess. hehe. Okay, enough about that and let’s get on with my complicated noggin…

This was written a few Saturdays ago when my husband and I went to a wedding where he was a groomsmen….i knew not a soul. This was written at the reception, listening to one of the best DJs known in our area, spinning some oldies in my ears!

I hate weddings. It reminds me of a time when we were so happy, in love and naive about life.

I’m not a very social person, so as  I sit here, alone, with no company….because my husband is in the party…I realize that this is what my life consists of….awkward socialization. UGH. It’s like he doesn’t understand. I don’t like going to my own family’s parties, but here I sit in a stranger’s wedding. Random people coming up to me asking how everything is or if I like the food. I don’t like talking to people I don’t know or care about, especially when most of them are drunk at this point. I try to be social but I end up just sitting alone in a table typing this. I wish I was somewhere else. My mask has come off and i just want to tell these bitches next to me to stfu and get over themselves. The bride’s sister is a total bitch, who can care less about her family. Nasty attitude. These other two twits next to me are drunk, slurring their words and making up excuses for their pathetic sense of self.

What is it about weddings that makes everyones’ claws come out? Why does family have to be so fucked up? UGH!


To tell you the truth, the bride and groom were gorgeous and happy. But their family was seriously in their worse behavior. It was like the couple was the only sane ones in the room.

Weddings are a lot like funerals. Family always talk shit about the guest(s) of honor. It’s quite disgusting.

More Complicated than MY Past

I have a past. Everyone does.

Sob stories aren’t my thing. I hear them everyday from the people I work with, making excuses for their present behaviors. Your past may have helped you be the person you are today, but it does not excuse you from hurting others and making bad choices.

But this is not about what I teach people at work, this post is about MY past. A past that has been covered up by layers of rage, anger, and hate. I can sit here and talk about my daddy issues, but everyone’s got issues with their parents. I can sit here and talk about my social anxiety or even my lack of empathy, but in reality, it wouldn’t matter, because I hate sob stories, including my own.

I can come up with a million excuses why I am the way I am and blame all my trust issues on my father. Or the fact that I don’t have any friends because of a brutal murder that occurred on my street between two of my good friends when I was a teenager. Really, I could. But it all boils down to one thing, taking control  of yourself and understanding that your past should not have a say on your present or future.

This year has taught me a lot. It has confirmed my view on trust…it must be earned. I will never just give anyone my trust, they will have to work hard to earn it and I expect the same back.

My past has deep dark secrets that have never been revealed to anyone…not even my husband. They are things that I bury away in the back of my mind and never think about. This is the only way I can keep sane and keep on going with life as the ambitious and bitchy self that I am.

What does my past define? Hurt…but I do NOT let it get in my way of my present and future.

It does not define me, it does not define my choices, it just defines who I WAS, once.


More Complicated than Knowing Yourself


Anyone that knows me, knows that I am a very confident woman. Even if I am overweight, I am still really confident about myself. I’m happy with who I am, all my decisions and who I have become.

I am not one to wear make-up, do my hair, or wear a dress,  but somehow, I still manage to be noticable. Maybe it’s my loud mouth or my fiesty attitude, but whatever it is, it fuels me to speak my mind and tell people where to stick it.

People never know how I am going to react to a situation, because I can be unpredictable. Does that make me less approachable, possibly. I like it like that.

Bottomline, I have never given a crap about what others say about me and I am not starting today. This is why I love myself. I know myself and I know what this brain is capable of. I think that’s what scares people about me.

All these vulnerable posts I have written are just thoughts I have with the situation I am in, however, these post do not define me. These posts aren’t even a fraction of who I am. I may be complicated in so many levels, but that’s the reason that I love who I am. Because of all the experiences that I’ve been through that have made me this way. Because of those things, I know I am worthy to love myself. I am who I am and what you see (read in your case) is what you get.

No sugar-coating bull shit. Just my thoughts wrapped with a bow.


More Complicated than the Images in My Head

The images in my head will not go away. I can go days without thinking about the betrayal, but then, all of a sudden, it comes back like a whiplash! I’m one to move on and set the past in the past, but for some reason, this part of my past I cannot bury as deeply as I bury other harmful memories. I catch myself thinking about the way his lips must have touched hers, oh so very lightly. How it must have made her feel…missed and never forgotten. I guess it’s an image that will forever burn my mind, as a constant reminder of what I put him through the last decade. Reminding me not to take him for granted.

I know they are not speaking anymore and she was never really a threat to begin with, but every time he does not pick up his phone or when he hangs out with his best friend, I think of the image and hope he is not with her.

So far, it’s been great between us and he is being WAAAY more open with his feelings, but I can’t just forget about this. I tried all my tactics to dump it out of my long-term, but the roots have grabbed hold and turned into roots of steel. A permanent part of my conscious. We had a little bickering the other day and I wanted so bad to throw it in his face, but I know what those words would have done. Those words would have broken him down and we would be where we were in the beginning of the year….distant, sad and at the edge of the D-word. I cannot….I WILL NOT allow myself to become that person of evil intent. I am better than that.

It’s sad that I have led this relationship so close in the dumps because of my backlashes and my defense mechanism. Because of that, another woman in his past came in at our weakest and said the right words, at the right time to get his affection back. But in the end, I am his ultimate love and he has always put me ahead of everyone else, including himself and I will try my hardest to do the same for him.

Loving yourself is one of the most important relationships to have. If you can’t love yourself, there is noway you can love someone else. But, I think I love myself harder than I did anyone else and protected myself from any little threat. This caused me to hurt a lot of people I love and it is now when I am trying to alter my perception about that part of me.


More Complicated than a Rant

This quote is mighty true. Please do not judge me by my relatives. They are the total opposite of me.

My in-laws are cool, but my husband’s aunt and cousins are terrible. I mean, they are truly evil people and intentionally cause harm to people they do not like, people in their way and/or people that stand-up to them. I would be all three, naturally. When I say harm, I mean, they lie, steal and cheat to try to get you….physically, mentally, at your job or family. This is what they do. That’s why I had to use the word evil and not “mean.”

I don’t know what it is about me that attracts haters (sounds corny I know, but what else would you call them)? Is it my ambitious mentality, always reaching higher, my bluntness, my attitude, my loner type personality, etc.? Is it all of the above?

I work hard to get what I want at work, home, school, family, etc. That’s the way I am and the way I will continue to be.

Sometimes, I don’t have to say anything at all and people just start talking trash or try to take my rightfully earned crown.

For example, at work, there’s one specific person in which constantly talks crap about me or tries too hard to be my friend, not knowing, that in the end, I can call their bluff from here! Of course, I must pretend I give three shits, just to keep the peace and to keep rising above this person’s selfishness and arrogance. If they only knew how I really felt about them, they would probably go home and cry to their mother. Work is the only place I am this way, because I get paid to do a job and don’t want to lose it over my bluntness. But, I know this person deserves to hear what I have to say, because she too has hurt many people (lie, steal and cheat).

Karma has a way to really satisfy my appetite for righteousness. His aunt and cousins are not at the peak of awesome, anymore. Everyone around has seen their true colors and they are struggling immensely. And, my co-worker, is not a co-worker anymore, but a subordinate and is struggling with her health.

I don’t wish bad on anyone, I only wish for justice to those that they have harmed.

I know I am not perfect and, if you have read my post, I am also learning to grow as an individual. But, every once in a while, it is nice to see justice being served.


More Complicated than the Battle in Me

The Battle I Face

Hang in there, I say.

Things are looking up.

Change is good, but is it?

It is against human nature.

The battle within continues.

I trust my decision, right? 

Not sure if it’s the right one.

The rage inside boils up,

Overflowing the surface.

What do I do?

Let impulse overcome or think?

If I explode, it will not end well.

If I don’t do anything, I will explode anyways.

Oh my, hurry up and decide.

Think me….THINK!

What can a possible solution be?

The battle has to stop!

Breathe and use your words;

Your words of wisdom.

Just use your inside voice while you’re at it.


Don’t lie either, you are bad at that!

Speak your feelings where it can be understood.

Listen to understand, not to just respond.

Come on me, you are capable of this.


I think I found it….my composure.



More Complicated than Reactive vs. Proactive


And so I will start with something I learned recently. Today, I am certified to teach 7 Habits of Highly Effective People on the Inside (meaning in jails and prisons). I had to present in front of other people and received a standing ovation for my visual representation of Habit #1: BE PROACTIVE! I, of course, was nervous as hell to present, but happy with the kudos I got.

Let’s relate this to the ways of love, shall we.

I can be a proactive individual in my career, but a reactive person in love. I react to a stimulus right away, without thinking about the possible outcomes (or caring, for that matter).

This class has taught me sooooo much and I highly recommend it to anyone who has not been honored with this knowledge. I have learned so much about myself, that I catch myself actually thinking about solutions using the habits.

Love is a many splendid thing, but sometimes we react to situations without thinking or caring about the other person. I feel like there has been another world of understanding that has opened its doors for me to explore.


Lets see how this goes.


More Complicated than Change


And today is a good day to start life with a little change.

Change is the hardest thing anyone can do in their life. Going from being who you have been for decades and looking at yourself in another pair of lens, is the one decision that can either lead you in the right direction or lead you in a downward spiral. But you have to remember that the past is already done and over with….no need to dwell on something that cannot be changed. It’s good to think of the future and what it holds, but unfortunately, that too is something that cannot be obtainable unless you live in the present. If you live based only on your future, you forget to live now. In addition, tomorrow is never promised. You might not wake up from your slumber.

So, why am I blogging about change….AGAIN?! Because it is a hot topic nowadays and why not keep reminding my readers that the chronicles of my life are very much everchanging.

This evening there was a baby soft-shell turtle on our front step. It made me realize that the choice this turtle made is a deadly one, but also symbolic. I’m not religious or anything, but it makes me wonder if it wasn’t a sign. I mean, our complex has hundreds of apartments, why did the turtle choose our front step? My husband and I took the turtle near the lake to help him out a bit.

But why was he at OUR front step? Is it a sign to start new in our lives? Does it mean good things are coming? Maybe it means nothing at all.

Either way, it made me realize that the choices I make effect my future…like the turtle. I guess he chose the right door.

I want to be able to identify myself as a person who can conquer the paradigm of change and help others discover those paradigms. I really feel strong about change and how it can impact our lives.

In the past few months, I’ve learned so much about my husband and the dynamics of our relationship. We are always growing as individuals. We must accept the growth and grow along with eachother or not accept the growth and move on somewhere else.

I like the change I see in my husband. He lost 130 lbs. and is a lot more confident. He is aware of his voice and is not afraid to use it anymore. He listens to understand, instead of listening to respond.

Change is one hell of a trip….just gotta ride that train to get the good out of it.