There is one more thing about Alan that I would like to say before I put this topic away and that is at least he had the balls to apologise publicly. I have very little respect for people that won't take back public accusations when they know they are wrong. I have little respect for people that want to sneak behind their lies to say to you they are sorry while their lies still stand tall. How could anyone ever expect to gain respect that way?

If you admit that you are wrong, do it in the same forum in which you made the mistake, or your apology means nothing at all.

That was a lesson Mac taught me years ago along with the fact that admitting you were wrong does not weaken who you are. It makes you stronger. It takes courage to stand in front of people and tell them that you made a mistake, but they will think better of you for it. I also learnt from Mac to take responsibility, or as I read it somewhere recently 'don't ruin an apology with an excuse.' How often do people say 'I am sorry but...'? I know I am guilty of it sometimes too. As I have grown older, (I am 27 now!) I have become more aware of trying to dip out of being responsible for things I have done. If I have made a mistake, if I have hurt someone, if I have stuffed it up, I admit to what I have done and apologise for it. That's all that needs to be said. Life is not a court of law where you can argue extenuating circumstance and people should not be judges and condemn. If they do then it's time to find a new group of people to be around.

Mac and I spent the weekend being quietly together. It wasn't an overtly sexual time, more just sensual and I spent a lot of time on my knees. I had some things going on with my family that I had allowed to get to me while Mac was away and by the time He got home it was sorted out with the help of a friend, but Mac wanted to hear about it anyway. He listened and concurred with the conclusion that we reached. If He had thought different, I would have let Him lead. He has always taken me in the right direction. I give Him my trust. He also needed to know what had been wrong with me, even though I told Him I had that back under control. He wanted to be sure of what it was and that it was gone and He couldn't do that unless I told Him what was going on inside of me. I did and He understood and we moved on.

Sometimes I am like a frightened child seeking His approval before I can take a step. I know sometimes it frustrates Him no end but He assures me that even when it does, He loves all of me and not just selected parts. He loves me because of who I am, not in spite of it.

So when the little girl appears silently by His side, head bowed, small and frightened, wanting Him to take care of me, He loves that girl as much as He loves the part of me that is the wicked slut in His bed. I don't have to hide anything I think and feel from Him and that means He doesn't have to try and read my mind. It makes for a peaceful home around here.

I probably haven't said anything that I haven't said before. It's just that it is where Mac and I are at right now. We seemed to have gotten a little disconnected for a little while and this is all about us connecting again. Other than the panties being in my purse (and I still cant believe He told you that) and the sex when we got home, we had a very quiet weekend.

Oh and I had a word to Him about Him saying the panties were in my purse and the conversation went like this:

Sarah: I can't believe You told them I took my panties off and put them in my purse. What will they think of me now?
Mac (shaking His head and chuckling): You tell them that you come when I spit my semen into your mouth and you are worried about what they will think of you because you took off your panties?
Sarah: (trying very hard not to laugh)But I took my panties off at my parent's. What kind of girl does that make me?
Mac (shrugging): My kind of girl I guess.

I had to grin. There wasn't much I could say to that. I still blush that He told you about it though. I am not sure why.

I guess that's just the good girl part of me.