Since a little bit of pain is always a good thing in my book, it's always a surprise when that invisible line is crossed and tears ensue. The line isn't about what has and hasn't been negotiated; it's the line between good pain, and unplanned accidental 'I'm-so-sorry-are-you-okay?' pain.
It's happened two nights in a row now, and I sort of feel like a bonafide sex veteran; I've got the battle scars to prove that our sex life can get a little rough, and I'll probably discover a pinch of PTSD the next time RS attempts to gently caress my face.
The first night graced me with a sore eye after RS skimmed me rather roughly, nearly gouging my eye out - the thought of which probably hurts more than the actual skimming - and a stiff neck after being thrown down and having my neck slammed against the headboard. We were entirely unaware of how close we were to it and how far away we were from the nice soft pillows - a mistake we won't make again any time soon. Naturally, I claimed paralysis and stuck to it despite RS' attempts to prove that I was not, in actuality, paralyzed.
Which it turns out, he was right about - but you can never be too careful with neck injuries you know, it's serious business.
Last night's battle scar wasn't technically achieved while having sex, but since I'm pretty sure it was RS' intention and end goal all along, it counts in my book.
Without any sort of warning whatsoever, RS leapt up from his seemingly-sleeping state and punched me square in the face. At first I thought he had broken my nose or something equally as ridiculous, but it was soon apparent that my lip had taken the majority of the impact and my nose was quite fine after all.
Swollen and sore, RS dutifully got me some ice to take the swelling down despite my protests, because icing a swollen lip is incredibly unsexy, and I thought sex might still be in the forecast. (Hint: it wasn't.)
He apologized the entire time, claiming that he had meant to tackle me, but missed my arms and hit me in the face instead. Suure, no one's believing that for a second. I'm sticking to my version of events, wherein he was still angry about a conversation we had been having previously, and he just didn't want to admit to domestic battery.
See, there was this joke when we first started dating, that went sort of like this:
MY SISTER: RS, what happened to your laptop?
RS: *moving one closed fist into the palm of his other*
It broke.
MY SISTER: Boston, what happened to your face?
*moving one closed fist into the palm of her other*
It broke.
Laughter ensues and we all make light of the severity of domestic abuse. All fun and games, right? Yep, there will be more fun and games when I get to make that joke to my sister today and make it so that RS never hears the end of "that time, you know, when you 'accidentally' punched me in the face?".
It's happened two nights in a row now, and I sort of feel like a bonafide sex veteran; I've got the battle scars to prove that our sex life can get a little rough, and I'll probably discover a pinch of PTSD the next time RS attempts to gently caress my face.
The first night graced me with a sore eye after RS skimmed me rather roughly, nearly gouging my eye out - the thought of which probably hurts more than the actual skimming - and a stiff neck after being thrown down and having my neck slammed against the headboard. We were entirely unaware of how close we were to it and how far away we were from the nice soft pillows - a mistake we won't make again any time soon. Naturally, I claimed paralysis and stuck to it despite RS' attempts to prove that I was not, in actuality, paralyzed.
Which it turns out, he was right about - but you can never be too careful with neck injuries you know, it's serious business.
Last night's battle scar wasn't technically achieved while having sex, but since I'm pretty sure it was RS' intention and end goal all along, it counts in my book.
Without any sort of warning whatsoever, RS leapt up from his seemingly-sleeping state and punched me square in the face. At first I thought he had broken my nose or something equally as ridiculous, but it was soon apparent that my lip had taken the majority of the impact and my nose was quite fine after all.
Swollen and sore, RS dutifully got me some ice to take the swelling down despite my protests, because icing a swollen lip is incredibly unsexy, and I thought sex might still be in the forecast. (Hint: it wasn't.)
He apologized the entire time, claiming that he had meant to tackle me, but missed my arms and hit me in the face instead. Suure, no one's believing that for a second. I'm sticking to my version of events, wherein he was still angry about a conversation we had been having previously, and he just didn't want to admit to domestic battery.
See, there was this joke when we first started dating, that went sort of like this:
MY SISTER: RS, what happened to your laptop?
RS: *moving one closed fist into the palm of his other*
It broke.
MY SISTER: Boston, what happened to your face?
*moving one closed fist into the palm of her other*
It broke.
Laughter ensues and we all make light of the severity of domestic abuse. All fun and games, right? Yep, there will be more fun and games when I get to make that joke to my sister today and make it so that RS never hears the end of "that time, you know, when you 'accidentally' punched me in the face?".
FAITHFULLY YOURS,
Disclaimer: I don't actually believe that RS purposely punched me in the face. Accidents happen, but only to me, which is actually kind of questionable perhaps. Also, we in no way endorse domestic abuse or battery, and in no way believe it is acceptable to make light of such situations.
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