Tonight, when I got home, we had a house guest, a close friend we had not seen in some time. We all sat, the entire house and our guests, around our Dining Room table, chatting and drinking, enjoying each others’ company. We told stories. We commiserated. We had a great time.
This is what we all wanted from our home. This was just one of the moments we aspired to have when we moved into this house at the beginning of July.
With our home solid, our relationships to each other constantly cultivated and strengthened, I am reminded that life is not easy. Choices are often hard. My path has not always been clear. But, with one decision, I have found myself steeped in affection and love.
We are a kinky family. Not all of our members live in this house, but many can call it a home. We welcome our brethren, either with get-togethers, or just an invite to come over for dinner. We support each other, give affection, hug and kiss, and always encourage the best in one another.
This is what I lacked in my previous kinky life. I so steeped myself in trying to make an unhealthy situation work that I didn’t realize my life could be so much better.
My life could be full of love. I could find people that spoke openly about their feelings, processed their emotions, and encouraged me to do the same. I’ve found friends who own their shit, all the good with the bad, and push me to do the same.
I know I’m tipsy, but this is how I feel. Even with the turmoil that was our summer, I am so happy I have found this home.
All last year, I was by myself. It had its benefits, but I like this year more. I like having people to come home to, friends to chat with, close ones to care about and who care for me.
I have a kinky home, and it’s kind of awesome.
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