2000-04-25 21:34:00
So I've been reading the entries of other diaryists my age. As I expected, the men are sexist pig bastards and the women are alone and lonely. I'm trying to get a sense of ground rules. Do I put first names? Do I identify my occupation, my employer, my hometown? I've got things pretty well covered up, and the likelihood of anyone I know linking me with this diary is remote. So first names are OK. Occupation, probably. After that, it gets dicey. Hometown and employer could provide the link. But I'm doing this because I'm an exhibitionist. And I'm doing it to help myself. Even at middle age, there's much I can learn, and I still hope to find happiness, love and orgasms. This online diary will map my journey. And I guess I'll get the mydearydiary.com e-mail address, in case anyone feels moved to write to me. Mostly, though I want to get a grip on my feelings. I've been pretty screwed up lately, with the job, my asshole boss and my unrequited lust for a co-worker fogging my already demented brain. My lost diary started because of the feelings I had for my co-worker. I feel those urges starting to abate, but I'm still fantasizing about him and still spending way too much time e-mailing and talking to him. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I still hold a faint hope that he will be overcome with lust and we'll have hot, sweaty sex. Of course, the object of my lust popped his head into my cubicle just as I was writing the above line. So maybe first names isn't such a good idea.
2000-04-26 20:58:00
Had a busy day at work for the first time in weeks. Helped several users with their laptops and helped update the Bloomberg terminals. It was good to be active for a change. Bad news: my chair broke. Back pain looms. But it's quiet now. And I'm closer to death than ever. The signs are there; I might not make it to my birthday or the end of the year. But I'm not upset enough to do anything about it, like exercise, or go back to the doctor for medication. Two years ago I was panicked at the thought of dying; now I'm resigned. I simply don't want to make the lifestyle changes necessary to live longer. Anyway, back to the idiotic and mundane. I'm still lusting after my co-worker. We're friends, really good friends, but he wants us to stay platonic. I think it's because he doesn't find me attractive. If I weighed 150 pounds less, we'd have been fucking like bunnies since December. Too bad. I want to get laid, and I think I'd be a terrific girlfriend for this man. We'd be really good together in many ways, because we're good together already. It's nice that I have the slightest hope of a man finding me attractive. Until recently, I would just fantasize, often about men I only had a passing friendship with. Now I'm in full lust over someone I spend a lot of time with. We've shared, we've laughed, we've been honest. He's about my best friend these days. And I should be grateful for that. Friendship is something that has been missing in my life for some time, since Sharon pulled back after she got married several years ago. I would call her about twice a year; she never called me, and although she was always glad to hear from me and we'd talk for hours, I've started to feel that after nearly 35 years, that friendship has run out of steam. And I truly miss having a close female friend. The object of my lust, and my other good work friend, Karl, are fun, but I need the interaction and closeness and sharing that can only occur between two women. How I've longed to discuss my lusting with another woman. Karl is the only person on this earth who knows about my feelings for this man, and while he's had some interesting insights, he's not a woman. We're talking two different languages. I remember one of the best times of my life was when Mary, Gail and I were all here at the office. What a fabulous thing that was, to have two close friends, whom I had known before I got the job here, sharing my work life and personal life. We were always at one another's homes, and were intricately bound in one another's lives. That lasted less than two years, and I haven't had the same friendships since. So now I spend far to much time alone, not even going to the gym or walking anymore. I find great comfort in my cats and my beautiful home, and I wouldn't necessarily describe myself as lonely. I remember the pain of loneliness that tormented me after my divorce and my breakup with Bill. I was out of my mind from being alone and I felt I had no friends. That wasn't true, and I know now that I confused loneliness with severe depression. So I say I'm not lonely and not depressed. But in fact I have the classic symptoms: weight gain, lack of energy, sleeplessness, failure to find pleasure in things I once enjoyed, such as professional baseball, live theater and music. Getting laid wouldn't make any of these bad feelings go away. If anything, being in a physically intimate relationship would intensify my fears and insecurities. And I'd have another person's fears and insecurities to worry about as well. But damn, I still want a few screaming orgasms.
2000-04-27 19:28:00
Such a dreary, rainy day. It was all I could do to get out of bed to come to work. I can't believe it's this late in April and I'm still using the electric blanket. No sense of death today. Good. Work does have strange effects on me. I'll still restoring my home computer setup to its former glory, as well as configuring the new machine. Intel will be rolling out a completely wireless home networking system. Gottahaveit. Intel also has now a 10Mbps USB home networking system. I feel the need for speed! I might get that rather than be another beta tester for a new product. I was going to upgrade one of my AnyPoint units to USB anyway, so I might as well get the speedy model. Of course, add this to the computer, ZIP drive, Webcam, CD-RW and I've put about $2,000 on my AMEX blue card. What the hell. I want toys! It's not as if I don't have enough money saved toward retirement and for emergencies. It's not as if I'm not putting 15 percent of my gross pay away in my 401(k). I doubt few people in this newsroom have that kind of savings rate. I'm listening to yet another recording of "Jesus Christ Superstar." I never get tired of hearing "Heaven on Their Minds." John L. and I discussed spirituality this afternoon. He has said in the past that I'm among the most spiritual people he knows. Hell of a thing to say to an atheist. But I allowed as how I'm willing to accept other people's experiences with God as valid. John believes, as do I, that any chance of my embracing spirituality was beaten out of me in 12 years of Catholic school. Well, duh! But I also think my natural cynicism would have led me to the same state I'm in. I just can't get my mind around the idea of supreme beings. Nor can I see any evidence of an afterlife. Crap. Link between Harris and SII is down and the (l)users expect me to do something just because I'm a systems editor. The poopster is en route to Florida, and Annd knows nothing. tech support has been summoned. And dinner is late and I couldn't even order what I wanted. What a fine whine this entry is.
2000-04-28 18:53:00
At last, it's Friday. The house stinks because the cat litter seems to have lost its odor absorbing properties. Gotta buy more, and Dove bars, after work. I hope to bolt in 90 minutes. Was kept moderately busy. Users are nagging me for special keyboards and mouses. The poopster doesn't want them to have special devices. I gotta talk with the nurse, she's never been sympathetic to the cause of the working wounded. But I'll forge ahead, because I exist only to serve. The uncertainty at work still torments me. The newsroom starts moving to the second floor next weekend. I shall be in the last group to move. I'll be stuck on the fifth floor with the other dregs, alone in the creepy, vacant space. Still, it's just for four weeks. I'm looking forward to playing with my toys this weekend, assuming I can drag myself out of bed in daylight. I've starting looking for templates to revamp my Web site. I've set a deadline of August, the three-year anniversary of my first posting, to get the new and improved site up. Must do my first online bill paying this weekend. Direct deposit finally kicked in for my online bank. Still having erotic fantasies about my co-worker. I'm afraid to write his name, because if he ever stumbled upon this, he'd know himself immediately. Even without naming him, he could probably discern himself from the clues and my writing style. He fuels most of my masturbation fantasies. I imagine frolicking in his chest hair, and us sharing long, slow, deep kisses. I imagine us naked together, flesh to flesh, our hands all over one another. I imagine how his mouth and tongue would feel on my nipples, my neck, my pussy. I imagine how he would taste as I devoured his throbbing penis. I imagine how he sounds and looks when he comes. Alas, I shall probably never know. I am jealous of the other women who have been lucky enough to get some from this man. I am sad that he finds me so unattractive that he won't do me. I am furious that I was cursed with this fat, ugly body. You can't always get what you want. And if this is the biggest disappointment I suffer in the rest of my life, I'll be a very lucky woman. But damn, can't a girl get a little action? Even a fat, ugly, middle-aged girl?
2000-04-29 04:38:00
Well, fuck. I just spent about 10 minutes writing, hit the wrong key, and now it's gone. Gotta remember to CTRL A and CTRL C every few sentences. I was writing about my sick relationship with W2. It's sick on my side. He is either completely oblivious to my sexual feelings or is simply ignoring them. I saw through AIM that Wayne is online, has been online for more than an hour, but hasn't responded to the e-mail I sent him around midnight. My spying on him through IM creeps me out. I can't believe I've stooped this low. On Sunday, W2 is meeting a woman in D.C. who is a friend of his sister's. We joked about him hitting on her. But he seems eager for this date. This brings up the fear that I will be dumped. Ironic, because W2 and I are not dating and we're not lovers, although I desperately want to get it on with him. I spend a great deal of thought and fantasy on him, not to mention tbe IM spying. We talk at work every day, we exchange e-mail regularly, we get together at one another's homes, we order in pizza, we go out for dinner. W2 has done minor repairs in my house. I set up his computer. He gave me the key to his apartment and I used his computer and copied some of his CDs while he was on away on vacation. It would seem to the casual observer that we're dating. But we're not. W2 goes out of his way not to initiate any physical contact with me, although he doesn't shrink from any that I initiate. Not that I'm talking heavy petting; I mean, W2 never pats me on the back, or gives me a playful punch to the shoulder or even kisses me goodbye on the cheek. So I give him gifts, like Godiva chocolates, and continue to spend way too much time with him and thinking about him, all in the hope that his feelings for me will turn from friendship to lust. Ain't gonna happen, though, because I'm too fat and ugly. I haven't been honest with him about my feelings. I fear that if I am it will ruin our friendship, and for now, I'm willing to take this over nothing. And I'm not so certain that being honest about my feelings is in his best interest or mine. Just checked IM again andhe's signed off. So I gotta check my e-mail to see if he responded to my e-mail of around midnight. How sick is that? You'd think I was 15 instead of 47.
2000-04-30 03:50:00
W2 is online right now, has been for more than two hours. Except for a group forward of a stupid Web site, he's not responded to the very long e-mail I sent him early Saturday. I get upset when he doesn't e-mail me every day. That's pretty sick. In it I talked about an idea that's been gaining acceptance in my overworked brain. I have more than six weeks of vacation accumulated. What if I took that all at once in September and October? I could use the stock option money to go to Hawaii as I had planned to do this spring and/or I could take in a few shows in New York. This would give me a good chunk of time off without having to dip into my savings. It's also a short enough time that management would have a hard time saying no, even if John L. gets the promotion he's seeking and I'm the only one left in news systems. Six weeks off! Six weeks away from hell. Six weeks to exercise every day, read, write, go to movies, get enough sleep. It's sounding better and better all the time. I spent most of today lounging around. I downloaded and installed quite a lot of software on the new machine, which took forever because it's still on dialup. Got two calls from work. Damn (l)users can't leave me alone even on the weekend. I've been putting off paying my bills, but I gotta do it today. I'm eager yet nervous to tackle online bill-paying for the first time. And there's W2. He'll be heading to D.C. in 12 hours to meet a woman friend of his sister's. My nightmare is that they'll immediately be smitten with one another and he'll spend all his time off and e-mail and chat time with her. Then I'd be completely alone. I would never have believed this was possible. I'm not even dating this man and I will probably end up getting hurt. Only I could pull that stunt off! I have all the disadvantages of dating with none of the advantages. Pretty sick that I've managed to do this to myself. Gotta call to see a shrink on Monday. This can't continue. I've hit a new low in self-abuse. My other hope is that W2 will make good on his constant threats to quit and I won't have to see him every day. I think that would get him out of my system. That's part of where this idea of taking a leave first came up. I want to get away from work, natch, but W2 is one of the things that makes work so stressful. Damn, I'm one sick puppy. Letting a man affect me this way, and I'm not even getting laid for my trouble! I still think about telling him how I feel and "breaking up" with him, in the sense of no more e-mail, chats and "dates." That would give me a false sense of control, but nothing else good would come of it. I still feel the way I feel and I need to find out why I hate myself so much that I've allowed myself to be wrapped up in this nonexistent relationship. I had a similar crush on John L. when we first started working together. I knew nothing would come of it because he's married. But while in the throes of the crush, I did things at work just because I wanted to please him. I'm past that crush, and except for a few lurid fantasies, I believe the whole episode was harmless. This thing with W2, however, is perverse. He told me in December that he only saw us as being friends. He made his feelings clear then, and his actions (save a few notable exceptions) have upheld his platonic-only feelings. But I continue to flirt with him, make myself available to him, and do things for him that a normal woman would only do for a lover. In my darkest hours, I think W2 is fully aware of how I feel and is just using me because he enjoys the attention and other benefits. But deep down, I don't think he's capable of being such a prick. I guess he really thinks it's perfectly normal for a woman to give him candy, call him, spend lots of time with him, give him carefully thought out gifts, flatter him and feign interest in his stories no matter how many times she's heard them before, and smile like a idiot whenever he's around and not have any sexual or romantic feelings. If he does believe that, he's a true dolt. No man is that naive about women. Because of this, also in my darkest hours of low self-esteem, I realize that W2 simply doesn't see me as a sexual being, so none of that stuff occurs to him. That hurts me the most. I'd rather than he was knowingly use me than find me so repulsive that he can't see making love to me. But it's the most likely scenario. I'm such a hideous freak that no man, let alone someone as nice as W2, would want me.
2000-04-30 13:53:00
It's a beautiful Sunday. I need to get outside. But I've been doing some thinking and I wanted to get it written down while the feelings are still fresh. I got a very proper, all business e-mail from W2 dated at 1 p.m. today I also got the nightly Harris update from Jay, which was dated just before 10 a.m. today. It seems unlikely that Jay would be sending work e-mails at 10 a.m. on Sunday, so I'm guessing that both might have been delayed in the Internet ether for several hours. If not, the fact that W2 is up and conscious at 1 p.m. indicates he is making a Herculean effort to meet this woman in D.C. My fears are intensifying that W2 will be smitten by this woman, and vice versa, and I'll be left out alone in the cold. But I wanted to write this because I'm finally ready to admit it to myself: I'm in love with W2. I think about him all the time, I do things that I hope will please him, I early await e-mails and his visits to the RISH, and I cherish the time we spend together. How sick is that? I'm just a pal, a buddy to him. He walks around in a t-shirt and sweatpants and barefoot when I'm at his place, he thinks nothing about showering while I'm there, and barely makes an effort to clean his apartment. I'm about as sexual to him as Karl is. And I decided that if W2 does quit, I'll tell him the truth and stop spending time with him. But it's looking like W2 will be making the first move, if this date with his sister's friend works out today. I think W2 is hoping it will. Of course, I'm letting my sick imagination get the best of me. I'm not even sure where this woman lives; it certainly isn't around here if she's spending the week in a hotel in D.C. And she's grieving the death of her long-time boyfriend. She might be too wounded for anything to happen. But it doesn't matter. I'm spending way to much time obsessing over this. I've got to deal with the fact that I've allowed myself to fall in love with a man who doesn't love me. I feel truly pathetic and wonder if other people know and are snickering at me or pitying me behind my back. I'm reminded of a woman at work in Dallas, who was madly in love with a man who had no interest whatsoever in her and in fact was secretly dating another woman whom he eventually married. Everyone knew about the woman's feelings for this man, and knew they were unrequited, and tsk tsked about her behind her back. Is that what I've been reduced to? Man, I really hate myself now. I need help. First thing Monday, gotta call the HMO and get an appointment with a therapist. On an unrelated note, I see that apparently some other people have been reading my diary. Kinky. I don't see how anyone could find this childish whining remotely interesting. But I did get an e-mail address in case anyone is moved to communicate with me. Jane_Skye_So@mydeardiary.com Let the flames begin!
2000-04-30 23:32:00
Whew! Just finished my first session of online bill paying. In opening my mail, I discovered to my horror that I had not paid my car insurance. I think it's still in force until Thursday. But I was so certain that I had paid it that I didn't even look at the termination notice I received, thinking it was the second half of the bill. So I made a frantic call to my agent, but only got voice mail. I left a message and I hope to hear from him first thing in the morning. I'll drive my check over to his office on my way to work. Damn! This shows how stress from work is affecting my life. Of course, I've been procrastinating something fierce. I don't open my mail for days at a time. I only pay bills every other week. I guess the latter is OK, but I've gotta open the mail every day. I would have caught this a lot sooner. After putting it off for weeks, online bill paying proved to be relatively painless. I had to enter every bill, every account number, every address, but once that's done, I won't have to do it again. I still had to write a few checks, such as for magazine subscriptions. But I intend to pay all my monthly bills online. Less check writing will save my hands and postage. Man, I love the Internet! Waiting anxiously for W2 to log on. Part of me truly hopes he has a good time and this is the beginning of a wonderful relationship for him. Part of me wants him to come back unchanged. I don't want to lose our sick relationship. Bummer. No matter what happens, I'll be miserable. If he finds a girlfriend, I'll be brokenhearted. If he doesn't, I continue to torture myself in this twisted friendship until he quits and we don't have to see each other every day. Regardless of what happens, I've got to get my shit together. I need to meet with a shrink, not only because I'm nuts, but because my Prosac scrip is running out. I've got to start exercising. I need to buy clothes for the summer. Even if my work life sucks, I can do so much better outside that hell hole. I have a beautiful home, state-of-the-art computer equipment, and enough money to indulge in my toys. If I didn't waste so much time obsessing about W2, I'd actually have a pretty nice life. I don't know why I'm letting my deranged fantasies about him spoil things.
2000-05-02 12:20:00
What a day at work. I started out two hours early training some of the users to access their work e-mail on the road. Then John L. tells me I have to create a database for the department secretaries to keep track of overtime. I don't know nothing about no stinking database! Then the e-mail administrators send me gibberish to explain the failures of Friday night. I came home early and fell asleep in my chair. People are starting to freak because the move to the second floor starts this weekend. Too many users don't understand that we're not purging the old system for months. And I'm still trying to procure ergonomic devices for the hurting users. W2 sent me brief e-mail about his day in d.c. He talked about walking too much on a beautiful day. Nothing about the woman he was with. I was unable to discern any evidence that any sparks flew. I feel stupid about my obsessings. While W2 and John and I were talking in the cube, I fantasized about doing W2. Frankly, I wouldn't mind doing John and W2 at the same time. But that's just disgusting. I watched W2 while he was talking. I imagined, as I frequently do, him naked in my bed. I'm caressing his hairy pot belly, kissing my way down his sternum, pausing to stick my tongue into his navel. My hands and tongue make a leisurely trip to his crotch. I'd nuzzle his pubic hair with my nose, and my fingers would lightly trace his balls. I'd spend considerable time licking and sucking his rock-hard dick. My mouth would lavish the kind of attention on his cock that I usually reserve for Dove ice cream bars. W2 would gasp, and pull me up to his mouth for a deep kiss. "I won't last much longer if you keep doing that," he'll whisper to me. I'll smile, then straddle him, quickly taking his cock deep inside me. His eyes will roll and he'll moan, struggling to keep control. I'll lean over him so my huge breasts dangle over his face. He'll take one in both hands, and bring my taut nipple to his mouth. W2 will slowly tantalize my exquisitely sensitive nipple with his tongue, gentling licking and running his tongue around the nub. I'll arch my back, trying to press more of my flesh into his mouth as I spasm around his throbbing dick. W2 will fall back on the pillow, his hips thrusting faster and faster as he pounds up into me. He's close to the edge, and I lift myself up so I can watch his face when he climaxes. Finally, W2, eyes squeezed shut, opens his mouth in a low moan as he comes. I grin as I watch him explode from the pleasure I've given him. But I digress. jane_skye_so@mydeardiary.com
2000-05-02 19:15:00
Things went to hell in a handbasket at work. I'm forced to act as interpreter between user and database administrator. It'd be easier if the two just talked to one another, but that would make too much sense. I talked a user in Jerusalem through a four-hour download of IE 4.01 with 40-bit encryption. Main site Internet access went down. Users freaked. One got on my last good nerve and I yelled at him. D.C. user bites my head off. I bite back. Roving user complains because remote e-mail access doesn't have all the features of the on-site client. She finds it too much trouble to type in Yeah, it'd be nice if I could install all programs, databases and T1 lines on a Cd-ROM so that every user could have access to everything everywhere on any computer, but that ain't gonna happen. Deal with it. Louisville user is concerned because his laptop's fan runs all the time while on ac power and the unit is unusually hot. He not only finds this annoying, but believes that the unit is in imminent danger of bursting into flames. (I am not making this up.) Wants me to send him another power supply. I refused. In the middle of this chaos, user wants me to walk him through renaming his searches. I told him I had more important things to do. Good thing i'm off on Wednesday. one more pompous, drop-everything-cuz-i'm-more-important-t
2000-05-03 05:13:00 So it's nearly dawn. W2 has been online for more than three hours. I was a major bitch on wheels at work, although most of the (l)users had it coming. Network, servers, Internet access all crashed. And the college-age son of one of the editors was in a hideous accident and is in a coma. Mercifully, I have today off. Gonna get my hair done (that'll eat up five or six hours, but I have a backlog of magazines to read). Downloaded SETI@home for the dialup computer. Might as well put the free Wed access to good use. Perhaps today I will install MS Office, the scanner, the ZIP drive, the Visor and the CD-RW, and get the Webcam to save video. And maybe W2 will make a booty call to me in a few minutes and we'll climax simultaneously doing 69 as the sun rises. W2 liked the Web sites I directed him to. He's continuing to struggle mightily with the new computer system and insensitive, clueless bosses. He keeps threatening to quit. The stock option money might be coming as early as next month. I fear he'll bolt then. The stress of the impending office move is getting to me, and I won't be moving for five more weeks. The vibes at the office are posirively brittle, with people snapping all over the place. I feel like Tweek in "South Park," all twitchy and jumpy. Man, what a hellhole. I seem to have a few visitors to this diary. Welcome. Let me know what you think. Esepcially let me know if you can identify me, my friends, family or co-workers from these entries. I don't want to get sued.jane_skye_so@mydeardiary.com 2000-05-03 16:49:00 Only have a few minutes. Just back from four hours of torture to get my hair done. I'd still rather have someone pulling on my hair for hours than be in the office. Anyway, my hair looks fabulous. W2 sent me an electronic greeting card in response to the electronic greeting card I sent him apologizing for being such a bitch at work on Tuesday. Ain't that sweet. Better he should drive over after work and make both of us forget our employment woes with some loud, furniture-breaking sex.Jane_Skye_So@mydeardiary.com 2000-05-04 12:07:00 Just back from seeing "MacBeth." I was in the front row, so close some of the actors spit on me. Several of the actors were chewing up the scenery, while the actor who played Malcolm was so laid back I thought he was stoned. I also saw a performance by a troupe called Shakespeare's Scum, which did a 20-minute parody of "MacBeth." They were hilarious! I rode the elevator down to leave the theater with three couples: one straight white couple, one straight black couple and one lesbian white couple. Each couple was holding hands and giving one another goo-goo eyes. They were all normal looking people, which confirms my belief that love and sex are only for the attractive and normal, not hideous freaks like me. Back to my fantasy life: I wrote a few pages back about a fantasy in which W2 and I climax simultaneously while doing 69 as the sun rises. I was, of course, being sarcastic. But also, I'm not a big fan of 69. (Surely there is another term for it.) I love giving oral sex, and I love receiving oral sex. I enjoy each activity so much that I want to give my full attention to it. With 69, I can't fully enjoy either one. I can't multi-task in bed. Same with coming together. I want to watch and feel my man's orgasm. Can't do that if I'm coming myself. For me (and most grown-ups) half the fun of sex is giving pleasure to my partner. Hearing his moans, feeling his muscles tighten, watching his body writhe, seeing the expression on his face -- that's as much of a turn-on as being kissed and caressed. But hey, I'm so horny I can't afford to be choosy. Sixty-nine? Bring it on! It was such a relief not to have to go to work today. But I'm sure hell has been on hold and will descend upon me full blast on Thursday.Jane_Skye_So@mydeardiary.com |
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