Ropemance: Rope Journaling 10-20
For the first time, my life is boring. In the best possible way. Devoid of drama, contained and oh so very pleasant.
My life used to be frantic. There was always a tragedy, or a mistake I needed to find my way out of, or some new worst night/day/job/date ever! I thought that's just how life was and other people were better at juggling and processing life than I was. But slowly over the last year I’ve divorced myself from all that and discovered how simple life can be if you let it.
Shitty roommates left. I let myself heal from my past relationship mistakes and learned from them. I published my book. I stopped talking to people who only made me sad or feel empty. I stopped fucking around so I could really see and enjoy the man in front of me. And finally I got a new job complete with no manspainers or sexual harassers.
In this new life I've built, things are simple and logical. I make good decisions, I smile a lot, my brain is healing from PTSD and abuse, and I finally feel hope. Like I walk down the street and think about the future instead of dreading it. Instead of cursing how much longer I’d have to put up with this life I was given in the karmic lottery I’m excited to see what happens next.
And my life now, though quiet, is full of sex, genuine intimacy, and rope. Oh so much rope. I didn’t think I'd ever find someone as into tossing rope around and nerdily learning or practicing things as me. Sure I’d had a lot of casual rope encounters and a couple long term rope friendships. But never a ropey lover to call my own.
My memoir ends with me admitting I still haven’t found my ropemance even after all those shenanigans contained within the pages of the book. The epilogue was the hardest part to write. Because why would you want to buy a book about rope from from a lady who doesn’t even have her rope life together? She only plays with rope once a month? What a shitty rope expert!
Then I was hanging out with some literary friends who were giving me a hard time for rarely coming out of my happy little nest anymore. Teasing me for having an endless smile and answering, “how have you been?” With “Awesome!” And meaning it.
After blushing I shot back, joking, "I’ve never gotten to have a sweet man friend before. Let me enjoy it. He likes rope I like rope. Why do I ever need to leave the house?”
My friend, the person who helped me find that epilogue within my book and edit the crap out of my manuscript, her face lit up, “So you wrote Rope Slut and promptly stopped promoting yourself to go celebrate by getting tied up? You found your ropemance!”
“Oh crap, you’re right!” I said dreamily
It’s a funny thing to find yourself living the epilogue to your own written epilogue. It’s nice here. I’ve found peace amidst the mind blowing orgasms, nights of watching dumb TV and cooing at every dog we see on the street. It’s nothing like I pictured it. Nothing and everything I was looking for all at once. I like it here, I think I'll stay around a good long while.