"Fuckyou"

Yep…that’s exactly what she said. SugarAnne did. And it’s only because things are going very well in our relationship. Where our home used to be in “keep them at the door” condition, although not immaculate (there is no need for that), it is well beyond “would you like to come in for a sec” for unexpected visitors. We’re getting along famously. Our lovemaking is off the charts in both passion and frequency. We are genuinely enjoying our lives together - immensely. We’re enjoying the “if we’d only known this before” feeling that bubbles up every now and then. And we’re enjoying the feelings of reminiscence that sweep over us as we live the “good ole days” right here in the present. We are indeed flourishing in "this thing we do".

And that’s exactly why she said, “Fuckyou” to me. ME! If it wasn’t 4:30 in the morning in Condo Heaven, I would’ve doubled her over, broken out the “Weapon of Ass Destruction” and… Let’s just say it would’ve sounded like:

“Fuck ME?!! THWACK! No…FuckYou! THWACK!”
“Fuck ME?!! THWACK! No…FuckYou! THWACK!” again and again.


Things are going so well that we’re getting down to some truly serious stuff; quality of life stuff; life-saving stuff: Cigarettes – and nicotine withdrawal. I wonder if anyone out there has had any success with this issue through "ttwd"?

As we head into the New Year I have been instituting “guidelines” that are designed to help SugarAnne to progressively quit smoking. I haven’t seen her sucking on a cigarette in probably 6 years. She doesn’t smoke in the house and she doesn’t smoke when I’m around. She steps outside onto the beach to smoke. I admit this is a challenge that I was at first reluctant to undertake. Because smoking is such a tough habit to break and I felt my Domdentity had not yet developed sufficiently to undertake and stick to the task. She doesn’t do a lot of it – a half a pack on her worst days - but she’s been doing it since she was a teen - well beyond 25 years. While she’s free to lose her battles during the day while I’m away at work, at night, by rule, she’s down to one cigarette between 5:00 and 10:00 p.m. and none thereafter. The nicotine fits are driving her absolutely batty! She generally sleeps harder than times in 1929. But recently she was wide awake at 4:30 in the morning and the throes of nicotine withdrawal had her spinning like rotisserie chicken.

“You’re not going outside SugarAnne”. I shake my head sternly.
“Why not?” The unfolding of regulation panties indicates the beginning phase of her planned escape.
“Not until daybreak at least”, the hint of a serious consequences in my tone.
That’s when she said it: “Fuckyou”. It wasn’t like, “Fuck" (space) "you", I’m gonna do this anyway”. She was already re-folding the panties. It was a crisp hard "F": “Fuckyou” with a soft voice. Like when your kid gives you that classic line “Ihateyou!” and it all runs together. Like I said, if it wasn’t 4:30 in the morning in Condo Heaven…

I may have to walk on a few eggshells here and there. That kind of sensitivity is necessary under the circumstances. I understand it's difficult to quit. I quit a few years back. I had her take a nicotine lozenge and held her close until she fell asleep. But I feel the issue is better dealt with now, or later on we will be dealing with lung cancer; coronary heart disease; chronic obstructive pulmonary disease; cancer of the mouth, throat, larynx, esophagus, stomach, kidney, bladder, pancreas, liver or an early death.

We’re enjoying life entirely too much for me to just allow that to happen. So you might hear about this endeavor here and there. You also, if you listen closely, might hear the sound of eggshells being smashed underfoot:

“Fuck ME?!! THWACK! No…FuckYou! THWACK!” again and again.