Coach has been gallivanting all week, and I’ve been left to my own devices at the gym.  I hit it hard, partly to prove to myself that I’m capable of carrying on with my workout routine without him, and partly to compensate for my voracious appetite the past few days.  (I’m stuffing my face as I type.)
UPS Guy was conspicuously quiet after last week’s embarrassing lingerie episode.  Something about a Midsummer Night’s Dream party and Hugh Hefner and PlayBoy Bunnies and my more-revealing-than-usual workout top… I was mortified and tried unsuccessfully to joke it off.  Better to let it go. 
I am struggling this week. 
I’m deathly afraid of losing myself in a relationship again.  I’ve tried all kinds of connections since my divorce – one-night-stands, friends with benefits, and loving relationships with men who want to marry me and some with men who don’t.  
Usually, I like the idea of being single.  I like having options and meeting new, interesting people, should they happen to show up out of the blue.  I like being free and uncommitted.  But… my enthusiasm wanes because my heart is very much off the market right now, which is binding me up and holding me hostage in the most pleasurable and frustrating way.  
Yes, I am bound to him.  Part of me wants to struggle and break loose to maintain my independence, and the other part loves being tied up so tightly and just wants to be fucked fifty shades of grey. 
“Bound to You,”  ~ Christina Aguilera 

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