Like I've said, I have no expectations nor do I have any idea what 2014 will bring. (Do any of us, ever?) I've been planning a few trips here and there. At the end of January the plan is to go visit one of my cruise buddies out in Ohio. [I was supposed to technically be on my way home from there now , but due to the snowstorm that just blasted the midwest and northeast, I thought it best to stay put.] My brother and sister in law have suggested that instead of going to Ocean City, NJ for the Mid Winter Classic, we all pitch in and rent a house in the Poconos for a weekend. [I'm down with that.] Of course I can't forget to mention the big one - my brother and I will be flying down to New Orleans in March for 311 Day 2 014! There's also lots of planning still to be done for my friend's wedding in June, which I have agreed to be a bridesmaid in. I've sucked up my distaste for Ocean City, MD (where they want to have the bachelorette party,) and am working on squeezing into my positive pants about the whole thing. [It's hard to be excited about planning wedding showers and bachelorette parties and trying on bridesmaid dresses when your own future has been put into serious question.] So between all of that, and my work, I should be pretty busy for a while.
I still don't know what direction my relationship with Philip is going to take. I went to his house the other night, after almost a month and a half of not having seen him. Nothing was actually resolved, of course. I'm still as confused as ever.
Ideally? He'd get over himself and out of his own head and just set down the baggage he's clinging so desperately to. He'd realize that it's not a good idea to let me slip through his fingers because of his stubbornness. He'd get over his commitment issues and hand over his heart, because he already knows that I'd cherish it. But that's wishful thinking, right?
We spent New Years together and it was an emotional rollercoaster for me. It was wonderful being with him, it was wonderful seeing all of the friends I have made over the course of our relationship. But it was hard having someone pull me aside every five minutes and tell me how much they love me. Every time, I wanted to respond, "Thank you, I just wish he felt the same way," but all I could do was let the fact that he and I are no longer together settle in even more.
It's fucking hard.
Showing posts with label commitment-phobia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label commitment-phobia. Show all posts
When Paradise Becomes Dark
Yesterday morning I did two things I shouldn't have. I sat and listened to Lana Del Rey and then went through a big bag of my things that had come from my now former boyfriend's apartment. I had been avoiding both of those things specifically because Lana Del Rey's music was our thing - no one would understand and we don't care - and the bag contained items meant for no one but him, aside from a random assortment of clothes and toiletries I kept there.
I sobbed my eyes out on my bedroom floor for the millionth time as Lana's voice floated from the speakers, setting my guts on fire because my boyfriend, the man I loved, has ripped out my heart, torn it apart, and dropped it at my feet. It's still lying there and it's starting to rot. I'm tired of looking at it but I don't have the energy to pick it up and put it back where it belongs. No one wants it anyway, not even me.
I need answers.
Like how I could start to believe that our relationship was it, how it was the last one I ever wanted to be in when he wasn't feeling the same way.
Like how someone can shut their emotions down and wall up their heart, and even after two years of building trust and a bond with me that no one on the outside could have broken, still not let me in. How he told me I was perfect, I was the most amazing girlfriend, I was beautiful and just enough crazy for him, that I've done nothing wrong at all, and in the same breath tell me that right he can't give me what I need right now, so he had to let me go.
I don't fucking understand.
I'm 30 years old. I've grown exponentially over the last five years or so. I can confidently say that at this point I know what I want out of a relationship and I know what I need. Someone can tell me what they think I need, but they don't know. What I need is something I have lost, and it is him. What I need is everything he gave me - happiness and laughter, silly inside jokes, safety and comfort, mind-blowing, name-forgetting orgasms, a sense of peace, loads of self-confidence. I need it back, because without all of that, without him, I am empty. Completely empty.
He says not being able to love me right now is killing him. Well it fucking better, because I am already dead. Our relationship had been nothing but a natural progression, so I wasn't worried about him taking his time. I was happy to give it to him. But he realized he was being unfair to me and....and it just sucks. I have no control over this.
He says time and space is what he needs and I am giving that to him, as much as it is killing me. It's killing me to wonder where he is and what he's doing, to wonder if he has found solace in someone else's arms, not knowing what's going to happen to us. Every day is a struggle.
Before I left his house the night he ended our relationship, as I stood at the top of the stairs with tears running down my cheeks, I said the three little words that carry the weight of the world, because I knew if I didn't, I'd regret it.
"Whether you want to hear this or not, whether you can accept it or not, I love you. I never dreamed I'd be saying it under these circumstances, but I have to, and you have to hear it. I love you."
And then his tears started.
I thought I knew what heartbreak was. I thought I knew how bad it hurt. I had no fucking idea.
I sobbed my eyes out on my bedroom floor for the millionth time as Lana's voice floated from the speakers, setting my guts on fire because my boyfriend, the man I loved, has ripped out my heart, torn it apart, and dropped it at my feet. It's still lying there and it's starting to rot. I'm tired of looking at it but I don't have the energy to pick it up and put it back where it belongs. No one wants it anyway, not even me.
I need answers.
Like how I could start to believe that our relationship was it, how it was the last one I ever wanted to be in when he wasn't feeling the same way.
Like how someone can shut their emotions down and wall up their heart, and even after two years of building trust and a bond with me that no one on the outside could have broken, still not let me in. How he told me I was perfect, I was the most amazing girlfriend, I was beautiful and just enough crazy for him, that I've done nothing wrong at all, and in the same breath tell me that right he can't give me what I need right now, so he had to let me go.
I don't fucking understand.
I'm 30 years old. I've grown exponentially over the last five years or so. I can confidently say that at this point I know what I want out of a relationship and I know what I need. Someone can tell me what they think I need, but they don't know. What I need is something I have lost, and it is him. What I need is everything he gave me - happiness and laughter, silly inside jokes, safety and comfort, mind-blowing, name-forgetting orgasms, a sense of peace, loads of self-confidence. I need it back, because without all of that, without him, I am empty. Completely empty.
He says not being able to love me right now is killing him. Well it fucking better, because I am already dead. Our relationship had been nothing but a natural progression, so I wasn't worried about him taking his time. I was happy to give it to him. But he realized he was being unfair to me and....and it just sucks. I have no control over this.
He says time and space is what he needs and I am giving that to him, as much as it is killing me. It's killing me to wonder where he is and what he's doing, to wonder if he has found solace in someone else's arms, not knowing what's going to happen to us. Every day is a struggle.
Before I left his house the night he ended our relationship, as I stood at the top of the stairs with tears running down my cheeks, I said the three little words that carry the weight of the world, because I knew if I didn't, I'd regret it.
"Whether you want to hear this or not, whether you can accept it or not, I love you. I never dreamed I'd be saying it under these circumstances, but I have to, and you have to hear it. I love you."
And then his tears started.
I thought I knew what heartbreak was. I thought I knew how bad it hurt. I had no fucking idea.
When Friends With Benefits Gets Starts To Get Real
Recently the dynamic of one of the relationships I'm in has changed drastically. I link the word "relationship" to Webster's definition to clarify that I'm not talking about a specific kind. I am "in" a relationship with someone, but I'm also in relationships with everyone that is close to me. We all are.
Relationships are funny. Sometimes they're a walk in the park on a warm spring day, other times they're like trying to shovel 3 feet of snow out of one's driveway. That goes for all types - familial, friendships, boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife, lovers. Why this is so difficult for me is the fact that the relationship I'm referring to does not fit into any of those categories. For simplicity's sake, I'll say it's a (very) sexual, close friendship. Oxymoron, right?
For the most part this guy and I are cruising along doing our thing. But I'm starting to get a little restless and I don't know how to address it, towards myself mostly. This relationship is not following the natural order of things and it's kind of throwing me for a loop. And I don't need to hear shit about how "it doesn't need follow any kind of order, it shouldn't follow any kind of order, rise, rebel and resist!" I don't need my love life to be some complicated, over-worked, over-analyzed drama that I have to strive to keep unconventional. Right now I'm beginning to want something secure, steady and stable. Don't judge me.
There's nothing really wrong with our relationship, except for the fact that I don't know where it's heading, I don't even know where it will be tomorrow morning. I know I should be discussing this with him and trust me, we discuss it plenty.
The most recent discussion happened when I informed him that if he chooses to sleep with other people, I don't need to find the aftermath, i.e. used condom & empty wrapper from (I'm guessing) two nights prior, sitting on top of the bathroom trashcan when I go to throw away my tissues after blowing my nose first thing in the morning.
I had always kept the fact that I'm sure he's sleeping with other women, even post-my top drawer of his dresser takeover, in the back of my head, but I was fine with it being there, not hearing about it, not seeing it, basically maintaining the ignorance is bliss mentality. I was good with that. But here's where it gets weird - I would never throw something like in his face, whether unintentionally or not. I don't leave empty condom wrappers laying around for him to stumble upon. I don't divulge sexual escapades. I rarely even talk about my past, because we all know that your lover doesn't want to hear about some other guy that's been in your bed, even if you're trashing them.
Having the realization that he is sleeping with someone, or maybe even someones, violently pushed to the front of my mind was not a pleasant experience. It was downright brutal, and my emotional response surprised me. It hurt me more than I thought it would. I cried. A lot. I got angry. Very angry. It brought back ugly, self-deprecating feelings of just being a girl that someone knows they can call if they want to get laid.
I feel very foolish and stupid. I feel like I've been led on. To be honest, I feel downright betrayed, regardless of the fact that we have not claimed exclusivity, due to how much time we spend together and how we spend it. Now I feel as though people look at me when I'm with him and think to themselves, "Oh, that poor girl. She has no idea. Look how clueless she is." Because for some reason I assume that everyone knows our business. For all I know, I could have, at one time or another, been in the presence of this other girl while she snickered about their little secret on the inside. (I know it happens; I've been that other girl.) His behavior towards me when we're around other people dictates that we're together and I just go along with it because I really don't have a reason not to. I'm often referred to as his girlfriend and he doesn't bother to correct it. We're asked how long we've been together and he says "Since early summer or so." So of course I'm going to be a little upset when he basically announces to me, unabashedly, Hey guess what, you're not the only girl I'm fucking. I know he cares for me. I know he values what we have together. He tells me all the time. But sorry baby, actions speak louder than words.
Now, I've been no angel. For most of our "relationship," he has not been the only guy I've been sleeping with. As I've addressed in previous posts, I've pretty much pushed other guys to the wayside, unintentionally or not, which leads me to think that he's worthy of my fidelity. But if he's not going to give me that much, I have no reason to feel obligated to either.
He and I have discussed this ad nauseum. At this point I am, for the most part, over it. But it's still in the back of my head. When I go over to his place I can't help but think, Hmmm, who was here last night? The other night he had plans with a (girl)friend he hadn't seen in a very long time. Was I losing my mind? Yup. So when I saw him the next night, he was telling me about his evening and I asked him point blank if he fucked her. He looked as if I had slapped him. Well, what do you expect? I had a whole speech prepared if he were to say yes. His answer was no. Do I believe him? Mostly yes, a tiny part of me - no. But it's out of my control now.
The whole thing raises a lot of questions, not to mention there's a lot to the story I'm not sharing because it's too much for one post. What would you do, based on what I have disclosed, in this situation?
Relationships are funny. Sometimes they're a walk in the park on a warm spring day, other times they're like trying to shovel 3 feet of snow out of one's driveway. That goes for all types - familial, friendships, boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife, lovers. Why this is so difficult for me is the fact that the relationship I'm referring to does not fit into any of those categories. For simplicity's sake, I'll say it's a (very) sexual, close friendship. Oxymoron, right?
For the most part this guy and I are cruising along doing our thing. But I'm starting to get a little restless and I don't know how to address it, towards myself mostly. This relationship is not following the natural order of things and it's kind of throwing me for a loop. And I don't need to hear shit about how "it doesn't need follow any kind of order, it shouldn't follow any kind of order, rise, rebel and resist!" I don't need my love life to be some complicated, over-worked, over-analyzed drama that I have to strive to keep unconventional. Right now I'm beginning to want something secure, steady and stable. Don't judge me.
There's nothing really wrong with our relationship, except for the fact that I don't know where it's heading, I don't even know where it will be tomorrow morning. I know I should be discussing this with him and trust me, we discuss it plenty.
The most recent discussion happened when I informed him that if he chooses to sleep with other people, I don't need to find the aftermath, i.e. used condom & empty wrapper from (I'm guessing) two nights prior, sitting on top of the bathroom trashcan when I go to throw away my tissues after blowing my nose first thing in the morning.
I had always kept the fact that I'm sure he's sleeping with other women, even post-my top drawer of his dresser takeover, in the back of my head, but I was fine with it being there, not hearing about it, not seeing it, basically maintaining the ignorance is bliss mentality. I was good with that. But here's where it gets weird - I would never throw something like in his face, whether unintentionally or not. I don't leave empty condom wrappers laying around for him to stumble upon. I don't divulge sexual escapades. I rarely even talk about my past, because we all know that your lover doesn't want to hear about some other guy that's been in your bed, even if you're trashing them.
Having the realization that he is sleeping with someone, or maybe even someones, violently pushed to the front of my mind was not a pleasant experience. It was downright brutal, and my emotional response surprised me. It hurt me more than I thought it would. I cried. A lot. I got angry. Very angry. It brought back ugly, self-deprecating feelings of just being a girl that someone knows they can call if they want to get laid.
I feel very foolish and stupid. I feel like I've been led on. To be honest, I feel downright betrayed, regardless of the fact that we have not claimed exclusivity, due to how much time we spend together and how we spend it. Now I feel as though people look at me when I'm with him and think to themselves, "Oh, that poor girl. She has no idea. Look how clueless she is." Because for some reason I assume that everyone knows our business. For all I know, I could have, at one time or another, been in the presence of this other girl while she snickered about their little secret on the inside. (I know it happens; I've been that other girl.) His behavior towards me when we're around other people dictates that we're together and I just go along with it because I really don't have a reason not to. I'm often referred to as his girlfriend and he doesn't bother to correct it. We're asked how long we've been together and he says "Since early summer or so." So of course I'm going to be a little upset when he basically announces to me, unabashedly, Hey guess what, you're not the only girl I'm fucking. I know he cares for me. I know he values what we have together. He tells me all the time. But sorry baby, actions speak louder than words.
Now, I've been no angel. For most of our "relationship," he has not been the only guy I've been sleeping with. As I've addressed in previous posts, I've pretty much pushed other guys to the wayside, unintentionally or not, which leads me to think that he's worthy of my fidelity. But if he's not going to give me that much, I have no reason to feel obligated to either.
He and I have discussed this ad nauseum. At this point I am, for the most part, over it. But it's still in the back of my head. When I go over to his place I can't help but think, Hmmm, who was here last night? The other night he had plans with a (girl)friend he hadn't seen in a very long time. Was I losing my mind? Yup. So when I saw him the next night, he was telling me about his evening and I asked him point blank if he fucked her. He looked as if I had slapped him. Well, what do you expect? I had a whole speech prepared if he were to say yes. His answer was no. Do I believe him? Mostly yes, a tiny part of me - no. But it's out of my control now.
The whole thing raises a lot of questions, not to mention there's a lot to the story I'm not sharing because it's too much for one post. What would you do, based on what I have disclosed, in this situation?
The Tale of the Dark-Haired Goldilocks
Okay so while driving home from the bar last night, something dawned on me.
If you know anything about me, you might have picked up on the fact that I have been (technically) single for almost five years. Damn, has it been that long? So I am accustomed to just doing my own thing. If I'm in the mood for some dirty, no-strings-attached fun, it's at my fingertips. If I'm in the mood for some strange, that's not usually hard to find either. But lately, I haven't been bothered to partake in any of that, and I know why.
There's someone on my mind. Someone I'd rather be with than my Drugstore Cowboy - you know, the one with the bedroom eyes, or my heavy metal lover - the one who blasted into my life out of nowhere around Memorial Day last summer.
Part of me is okay with this, part of me is terrified.
When I think about it, it's very similar to the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Except I'm a brunette and we're not talking about beds and porridge, we're talking about relationships.
The Drugstore Cowboy is 25 - too soft around the edges, immature, pretentious, seemingly intimidated by women, only ever calls after midnight and I was usually responsible for getting myself off. Hey honey, the same two positions have gotten quite boring.
The Heavy Metal Lover is 44 - a little too rough around the edges, with a been-there-done-that kind of attitude, not interested in relationships because he's run the gauntlet already, and while the sex was always fun and hot, he never really took the time to find out what blew my mind.
But one who is on my mind is 34 and he knows when to be soft and when to be rough, his sense of humor is a good mix of sarcastic and genuine, we share common ground on lots of things, and he takes the time to figure out what gets me off. More like makes it his mission. We compliment each other, in and out of the bedroom. He texts me in the morning with a "Have a good day!" and a kiss. We do things together. I spend the night at his house so often that I have a toothbrush in the medicine cabinet and pajamas in his drawer. I've met all of his friends and his entire family. He gave me a Cuisinart food processor for Christmas. There's a jar of Splenda next to his coffeemaker for me. He constantly tells me how beautiful I am, he can't keep his hands off me, and the feeling is mutual. He's out of town this weekend and asked if he would be seeing me tomorrow night when he gets back. He's the one whose porridge is just the right temperature and the bed that is perfect for sleeping in.
If you know anything about me, you might have picked up on the fact that I have been (technically) single for almost five years. Damn, has it been that long? So I am accustomed to just doing my own thing. If I'm in the mood for some dirty, no-strings-attached fun, it's at my fingertips. If I'm in the mood for some strange, that's not usually hard to find either. But lately, I haven't been bothered to partake in any of that, and I know why.
There's someone on my mind. Someone I'd rather be with than my Drugstore Cowboy - you know, the one with the bedroom eyes, or my heavy metal lover - the one who blasted into my life out of nowhere around Memorial Day last summer.
Part of me is okay with this, part of me is terrified.
When I think about it, it's very similar to the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Except I'm a brunette and we're not talking about beds and porridge, we're talking about relationships.
The Drugstore Cowboy is 25 - too soft around the edges, immature, pretentious, seemingly intimidated by women, only ever calls after midnight and I was usually responsible for getting myself off. Hey honey, the same two positions have gotten quite boring.
The Heavy Metal Lover is 44 - a little too rough around the edges, with a been-there-done-that kind of attitude, not interested in relationships because he's run the gauntlet already, and while the sex was always fun and hot, he never really took the time to find out what blew my mind.
But one who is on my mind is 34 and he knows when to be soft and when to be rough, his sense of humor is a good mix of sarcastic and genuine, we share common ground on lots of things, and he takes the time to figure out what gets me off. More like makes it his mission. We compliment each other, in and out of the bedroom. He texts me in the morning with a "Have a good day!" and a kiss. We do things together. I spend the night at his house so often that I have a toothbrush in the medicine cabinet and pajamas in his drawer. I've met all of his friends and his entire family. He gave me a Cuisinart food processor for Christmas. There's a jar of Splenda next to his coffeemaker for me. He constantly tells me how beautiful I am, he can't keep his hands off me, and the feeling is mutual. He's out of town this weekend and asked if he would be seeing me tomorrow night when he gets back. He's the one whose porridge is just the right temperature and the bed that is perfect for sleeping in.
Friends With Benefits: A Love Story, Continued
So my little story has seemingly turned into a saga. Not much has changed over the last month or so, aside from the fact that we're talking a little more openly about relationships, specifically ours, hypothetically what it would be like if we became exclusive. What bewilders me about it all is that I have not, for one second, over analyzed anything about it. I haven't driven myself crazy going over every little detail of our relationship like I've done with past ones, and it still continues to be...easy. I hope it will stay that way.
One important detail of our relationship is that we live about a half an hour away from each other. It may not seem like much, it's an easy drive and I love the little town he lives in, but it can be an obstacle at times. My job entails my driving several miles a week, so the fact that we're spending more time together could prove to be a strain on me mostly, because I usually go to him. So far it hasn't been a problem.
I went up there to be with the other night, because he told me he wanted me there. He's going through a rough time and yesterday he signed away his house. The one he bought with his ex. He told me last week that it was happening and that he would really appreciate it if I came up and spent that particular night with him. At the time, my schedule had me working in Douglassville the next day, so staying with him would have benefited in two ways - I would have been there for him and cut a half an hour off of my drive to work.
My schedule was changed at the last minute and I was put on a job down in Dover. Instead of telling him that I couldn't stay because it would have added a half an hour to my drive to work, I went up there. I knew he needed me. And he was incredibly appreciative. I knew how much it meant to him to have me there.
As we were curled up on the couch, he started talking. About us. I'm having a hard time remembering exactly what he said, because he was stumbling over his words.
"I knew exactly what I wanted to say earlier, and it made absolute sense when I went over it in my head, but now I can't figure out how the hell to say it."
I just sat and listened, being patient in the hopes that he'd come out and spill it. What I ended up with was something along the lines of -
"You came up here to be with me tonight because I needed you to, and you're not my girlfriend. That, to me, means more than it would have if you were my girlfriend. That's something I don't want to lose if we were to be together, all the bullshit I'm going through that's preventing me from being emotionally available aside. If you were my girlfriend, you'd be here, no question."
I turned this over in my head, trying to make some sense of it.
"You're saying it'd be a given that I'd be here, there, wherever, at all times because I'd be obligated to."
"Yes...no...kind of? I think I'm confusing myself."
I've never had this kind of relationship before, where we talk about this stuff, not even to resolve anything, and then gone to sleep in his arms the very same night with no awkwardness between us.
(Did I mention how good the sex is?)
It's not even like I have the constant nagging feeling that this could end at any moment, because, oddly enough, I don't. He doesn't do anything that aggravates the shit out of me, that hurts me, that tears me down or emotionally damages me. He never has.
So what am I feeling right now?
I honestly don't fucking know. And I'm okay with that.
One important detail of our relationship is that we live about a half an hour away from each other. It may not seem like much, it's an easy drive and I love the little town he lives in, but it can be an obstacle at times. My job entails my driving several miles a week, so the fact that we're spending more time together could prove to be a strain on me mostly, because I usually go to him. So far it hasn't been a problem.
I went up there to be with the other night, because he told me he wanted me there. He's going through a rough time and yesterday he signed away his house. The one he bought with his ex. He told me last week that it was happening and that he would really appreciate it if I came up and spent that particular night with him. At the time, my schedule had me working in Douglassville the next day, so staying with him would have benefited in two ways - I would have been there for him and cut a half an hour off of my drive to work.
My schedule was changed at the last minute and I was put on a job down in Dover. Instead of telling him that I couldn't stay because it would have added a half an hour to my drive to work, I went up there. I knew he needed me. And he was incredibly appreciative. I knew how much it meant to him to have me there.
As we were curled up on the couch, he started talking. About us. I'm having a hard time remembering exactly what he said, because he was stumbling over his words.
"I knew exactly what I wanted to say earlier, and it made absolute sense when I went over it in my head, but now I can't figure out how the hell to say it."
I just sat and listened, being patient in the hopes that he'd come out and spill it. What I ended up with was something along the lines of -
"You came up here to be with me tonight because I needed you to, and you're not my girlfriend. That, to me, means more than it would have if you were my girlfriend. That's something I don't want to lose if we were to be together, all the bullshit I'm going through that's preventing me from being emotionally available aside. If you were my girlfriend, you'd be here, no question."
I turned this over in my head, trying to make some sense of it.
"You're saying it'd be a given that I'd be here, there, wherever, at all times because I'd be obligated to."
"Yes...no...kind of? I think I'm confusing myself."
I've never had this kind of relationship before, where we talk about this stuff, not even to resolve anything, and then gone to sleep in his arms the very same night with no awkwardness between us.
(Did I mention how good the sex is?)
It's not even like I have the constant nagging feeling that this could end at any moment, because, oddly enough, I don't. He doesn't do anything that aggravates the shit out of me, that hurts me, that tears me down or emotionally damages me. He never has.
So what am I feeling right now?
I honestly don't fucking know. And I'm okay with that.
Emotional Unavailability Is Bullshit
I don't get it and I never will, I know that much. My life has become significantly less complicated since I've whittled down the number of lovers I have at any given time to a very, very small one. But that's not to say the ones I keep close don't throw me into a spin every once in a while. I've been played the "emotionally unavailable" card 4 times in the past year, and I just don't get it. I'm actually starting to think it's a cop out. It's easier than saying, I like you, but not enough to pursue something more significant with you.
The first time I was handed this line, I accepted it without too much hesitation, although I was somewhat devastated upon hearing it. Okay, you've got a lot of shit floating around in your head, I understand where you're coming from. I really can't blame you, thanks for your honesty.
The second time it came from the infamous Buzzard. Yeah, yeah, fuck you and your "issues." You figured it would just be easier to tell me that you were unable to give me what I needed out of a relationship as opposed to flat-out saying, "I don't want a girlfriend, I just want to fuck bitches." Because honestly honey, everybody knows at this point that that's all you care about. You don't have "issues," you're just a sleazy old man now that eventually no woman is going to want. Especially once your prick falls off.
The third time I got the line, I hadn't expected to feel the way I was starting to about the other person involved. We started out as casual lovers, and things escalated as we started spending more time together. I liked how he made me feel, how much fun we had together, and his happy-go-lucky approach to life. He was very attentive to my needs, respectful and honest with me. So I laid it out on the table for him, prepared for whatever he handed back to me. And of course, it was the same spiel. Okay, I understand work is kicking your ass and owning a business can stress you out to the max. Yes, it sucks that the last relationship you were in ended badly, but so did mine. It hasn't stopped me from being receptive when something better comes my way. But if you claim you like being with me, we can't deny how mind-blowing the sex is and that we both feel at ease with each other, yet you can't make room for me in your life, then there's nothing I can do about it. Thanks for your honesty. Time for me to move on.
The fourth time I heard this line, I was actually a little surprised. It came up in casual conversation, not in terms of, "This is what I want and this is what I think it should be," when referring to a relationship. I may feel as though I've been a little misled, but I'm not hurt, nor have I ever been hurt by this person. I looked straight at him and replied, "If I made myself emotionally unavailable, if I put up a wall and refused to ever let anyone in at all, I'd miss out on so much. Yes, it's risky, but my life has been enriched by the relationships I've had." I personally think you need to move on because you deserve better. I don't like the way she hurt you and I don't think you have any valid reasons for wanting her back other than the fact that you grew accustomed to her being around. I don't expect you to move right on to me, you need to do it for yourself. Whether or not I fit into your future is a moot point.
Maybe I feel this way because when my last full-blown, intent-to-marry, relationship ended, I was the one who dealt it the final blow. I made the decision to end it, I dropped the bomb and literally ran the other way. I cut off all communication, I didn't want anything from him, I left all kinds of shit at his house, which was returned to me one way or another through mutual friends without ever having to see each other face to face. I knew it was the only way.
These people who keep going back to the scene of the crime make me sick. No wonder you're miserable. No wonder you're cynical. No wonder you come to believe you are "emotionally unavailable." If my ex was able to rebuild the shambles I left his life in, then you can too. If I was able to walk away from Buzzard, then you can walk away from the person who poisons your very soul.
Fuck this being emotionally unavailable. I'm here to love everyone who crosses my path at different times, or all at the same time, what's it matter? These four specific experiences have only made me stronger and more aware of what it is I want out of life and out of love. To break it down,
The first time I was handed this line, I accepted it without too much hesitation, although I was somewhat devastated upon hearing it. Okay, you've got a lot of shit floating around in your head, I understand where you're coming from. I really can't blame you, thanks for your honesty.
The second time it came from the infamous Buzzard. Yeah, yeah, fuck you and your "issues." You figured it would just be easier to tell me that you were unable to give me what I needed out of a relationship as opposed to flat-out saying, "I don't want a girlfriend, I just want to fuck bitches." Because honestly honey, everybody knows at this point that that's all you care about. You don't have "issues," you're just a sleazy old man now that eventually no woman is going to want. Especially once your prick falls off.
The third time I got the line, I hadn't expected to feel the way I was starting to about the other person involved. We started out as casual lovers, and things escalated as we started spending more time together. I liked how he made me feel, how much fun we had together, and his happy-go-lucky approach to life. He was very attentive to my needs, respectful and honest with me. So I laid it out on the table for him, prepared for whatever he handed back to me. And of course, it was the same spiel. Okay, I understand work is kicking your ass and owning a business can stress you out to the max. Yes, it sucks that the last relationship you were in ended badly, but so did mine. It hasn't stopped me from being receptive when something better comes my way. But if you claim you like being with me, we can't deny how mind-blowing the sex is and that we both feel at ease with each other, yet you can't make room for me in your life, then there's nothing I can do about it. Thanks for your honesty. Time for me to move on.
The fourth time I heard this line, I was actually a little surprised. It came up in casual conversation, not in terms of, "This is what I want and this is what I think it should be," when referring to a relationship. I may feel as though I've been a little misled, but I'm not hurt, nor have I ever been hurt by this person. I looked straight at him and replied, "If I made myself emotionally unavailable, if I put up a wall and refused to ever let anyone in at all, I'd miss out on so much. Yes, it's risky, but my life has been enriched by the relationships I've had." I personally think you need to move on because you deserve better. I don't like the way she hurt you and I don't think you have any valid reasons for wanting her back other than the fact that you grew accustomed to her being around. I don't expect you to move right on to me, you need to do it for yourself. Whether or not I fit into your future is a moot point.
Maybe I feel this way because when my last full-blown, intent-to-marry, relationship ended, I was the one who dealt it the final blow. I made the decision to end it, I dropped the bomb and literally ran the other way. I cut off all communication, I didn't want anything from him, I left all kinds of shit at his house, which was returned to me one way or another through mutual friends without ever having to see each other face to face. I knew it was the only way.
These people who keep going back to the scene of the crime make me sick. No wonder you're miserable. No wonder you're cynical. No wonder you come to believe you are "emotionally unavailable." If my ex was able to rebuild the shambles I left his life in, then you can too. If I was able to walk away from Buzzard, then you can walk away from the person who poisons your very soul.
Fuck this being emotionally unavailable. I'm here to love everyone who crosses my path at different times, or all at the same time, what's it matter? These four specific experiences have only made me stronger and more aware of what it is I want out of life and out of love. To break it down,
- If I had put my guard up after I left my ex, I would have never started down the path of self discovery.
- If I hadn't gone through every bit of emotional trauma caused by Buzzard, I wouldn't be nearly as strong as I am today. I still wouldn't know that I deserve to be treated with respect, and telling Buzzard to fuck off was how I learned it.
- I know now that it's not the end of the world if a partner doesn't feel the same way I do. I've learned acceptance, and also that I can't control another human being's emotions. If they don't want the same things, then it's time to move on.
- It's all about balance. When my fourth experience with the E-U card came, I pretty much blew it off. I was only able to do so because the relationship I have with this person is something of an anomaly. We are equal parts friends and lovers, cut and dry. There's no using or being used because we both genuinely care about each other and have for a long time.
That's Funny, I Thought It Would Take More Bleach Than That
It's hard to clean up your act when at times it seems that the world is teeming with potential lovers. For a while there I made it my goal to turn all of the those potentials into actuals and was always surprised (sometimes amused as well,) by how easy it was. But I'm a little older now, I'm a little more mature, and I finally have a clearer idea as to what I want out of a relationship. Getting to this point wasn't easy, but I have no regrets. Everything I have done in the past I did fully aware of any repercussions that could result from my actions.
So the mess I had made of my love life is starting to sparkle, shiny and new, after taking a few gallons of bleach and a wire bristle scrub brush to it. The decision to do that didn't come from my want for something real, I made it as a result of discovering, "Hey girl, you need to respect yourself a little more. You can't live your life waking up in a different bed every morning or kicking a different man out of your's every night."
Do I miss those nights of sleazy, rock & roll debauchery fueled by alcohol and hormones? Sometimes. A lot actually. But the nice thing is knowing I can still have them without putting my mind, heart and body at risk.
Reaching for that bucket of bleach was not easy. I hesitated several times. And just because I finally did it doesn't mean that I'm a reformed bad girl in any way. I'm a bad girl at heart and always will be. It's just finding someone who enjoys being bad right along with me. Part of me thinks I found that in my Parkesburg Boy...
So the mess I had made of my love life is starting to sparkle, shiny and new, after taking a few gallons of bleach and a wire bristle scrub brush to it. The decision to do that didn't come from my want for something real, I made it as a result of discovering, "Hey girl, you need to respect yourself a little more. You can't live your life waking up in a different bed every morning or kicking a different man out of your's every night."
Do I miss those nights of sleazy, rock & roll debauchery fueled by alcohol and hormones? Sometimes. A lot actually. But the nice thing is knowing I can still have them without putting my mind, heart and body at risk.
Reaching for that bucket of bleach was not easy. I hesitated several times. And just because I finally did it doesn't mean that I'm a reformed bad girl in any way. I'm a bad girl at heart and always will be. It's just finding someone who enjoys being bad right along with me. Part of me thinks I found that in my Parkesburg Boy...
I Wanna See It!
This post is about cock. Yes. That incredible, pleasure-and-pain-inducing, body part that has the power to make me scream and the power to destroy my mind. You've been forewarned. Cock, and that wonderful place called 'The Land Of Fuck.'
You know what they say about tits? The same goes for cock. Once you've seen one...you want to see the rest of them.
I used to beat myself up over my promiscuity. I had my reasons - it was pretty bad there for a while. But I haven't jumped into bed with a complete stranger (my Drugstore Cowboy doesn't count, even though after a year we still don't know shit about each other,) in a while. As fun as the take-down-and-capture can be, I like to stick with my rotation.
The only real problem I have with the cock is the power it sometimes manages to exercise over me. My sexual mentality is so much more male than female, (for lack of a better description; I hate to dumb it down by contrasting the males and the females.)
"What is my best option tonight?"
"Okay, -this one- is telling me he wants it later, but if that falls through, who can I have lined up?"
"Why isn't -that one- answering his fucking phone?"
"Sure, if I get woken up by -this one- I will crawl the fuck out of bed and be on his doorstep within a half an hour."
"Just because you succeeded in making my brains ooze out through my ears when I orgasmed doesn't mean I want to cuddle, baby."
I want it, I need it, I love it. And I become a real bitch if I don't get it.
You know what they say about tits? The same goes for cock. Once you've seen one...you want to see the rest of them.
I used to beat myself up over my promiscuity. I had my reasons - it was pretty bad there for a while. But I haven't jumped into bed with a complete stranger (my Drugstore Cowboy doesn't count, even though after a year we still don't know shit about each other,) in a while. As fun as the take-down-and-capture can be, I like to stick with my rotation.
The only real problem I have with the cock is the power it sometimes manages to exercise over me. My sexual mentality is so much more male than female, (for lack of a better description; I hate to dumb it down by contrasting the males and the females.)
"What is my best option tonight?"
"Okay, -this one- is telling me he wants it later, but if that falls through, who can I have lined up?"
"Why isn't -that one- answering his fucking phone?"
"Sure, if I get woken up by -this one- I will crawl the fuck out of bed and be on his doorstep within a half an hour."
"Just because you succeeded in making my brains ooze out through my ears when I orgasmed doesn't mean I want to cuddle, baby."
I want it, I need it, I love it. And I become a real bitch if I don't get it.
If They Didn't Like Chubby Girls, I Wouldn't Be Such A Slut
So I've never been one of those "skinny girls."
In November of 2007, I got my bridesmaid's dress for my brother's wedding, which was taking place in March of 2008. When I tried it on, it just fit. But I didn't think to myself, Oh my God! I have to lose 74209732 lbs before the wedding!
My job that I started in November of 2007 as well required lots of walking. So I'd be lapping seven floors of Christiana Hospital several times during one shift. Great, I was exercising. And I joined the gym there, so I'd work out before or after my shifts. But my "taking lunch" consisting of getting into my car and driving across the street to smoke as many cigarettes as I could in a half an hour.
Right after Christmas, my relationship started on a downhill slide. I was getting very restless and unhappy. I wanted a ring on my finger and a baby in my belly, but I was starting to think that I didn't want it all to be with the Ex. So my anxiousness and unhappiness manifested itself by way of me losing my appetite. Completely. And everything that was missing in my current relationship, I was looking for in other places.
I really wasn't making a conscious effort to lose weight. I was still healthy, even with the extra weight and the fact that I smoke up to a pack and a half of Camels a day. My blood pressure was on point, my cholesterol and all the other vitals were fantastic, and my immune system was something to be envious of. (Everything still is, BTW.) But my clothes started getting baggier and I had to tighten my belt a notch...then two...then three.
By the time I put the bridesmaid's dress on for the actual wedding it fit me much better - I could breathe and not have to worry about the zipper ripping loose in the middle of the ceremony.
I ended my relationship with the Ex two weeks after my brother's wedding. There was nuclear fallout. Stalking, cops being called, tears, fights, drama drama drama. I had started sleeping with Buzzard, and by then my diet consisted of diet Pepsi, a cookie every once in a while, and alcohol. Lots of alcohol. My form of exercise? Sex. Because with Buzzard, I think I burned more calories than if I had run 5 or even 10 Ks. My personal life was in shambles and the weight kept coming off. I look back at that time now and am not proud of what I see.
When I finally got most of my shit together, I managed to maintain, which is better than nothing. I'm still not considered thin, in fact, I think I'm ranked among the "morbidly obese," even though I don't jiggle when I walk and can kick your ass if you pissed me off enough. I am solid, sturdy, strong, and pretty well-proportioned for a girl my height. But now I feel another avalanche coming on, I'm tightening my belt again, and it's being fueled by cheese & crackers and Jagerbombs.
But I've never really battled with my weight either. When I was in my early twenties though, I was a fucking porker. And of course I'm going to blame it on my Ex. Not because I figured, Hey, I've got a man, he's not going anywhere, fuck it, but because at that time in my life I ate when I was stressed out, I was on birth control, and he was a big guy who could and did eat anything he wanted. Lots of it. So when I was sitting across from him at the dinner table, my subconscious was matching him bite for bite.Thick
Curvy
Solid
Voluptuous
In November of 2007, I got my bridesmaid's dress for my brother's wedding, which was taking place in March of 2008. When I tried it on, it just fit. But I didn't think to myself, Oh my God! I have to lose 74209732 lbs before the wedding!
My job that I started in November of 2007 as well required lots of walking. So I'd be lapping seven floors of Christiana Hospital several times during one shift. Great, I was exercising. And I joined the gym there, so I'd work out before or after my shifts. But my "taking lunch" consisting of getting into my car and driving across the street to smoke as many cigarettes as I could in a half an hour.
Right after Christmas, my relationship started on a downhill slide. I was getting very restless and unhappy. I wanted a ring on my finger and a baby in my belly, but I was starting to think that I didn't want it all to be with the Ex. So my anxiousness and unhappiness manifested itself by way of me losing my appetite. Completely. And everything that was missing in my current relationship, I was looking for in other places.
I really wasn't making a conscious effort to lose weight. I was still healthy, even with the extra weight and the fact that I smoke up to a pack and a half of Camels a day. My blood pressure was on point, my cholesterol and all the other vitals were fantastic, and my immune system was something to be envious of. (Everything still is, BTW.) But my clothes started getting baggier and I had to tighten my belt a notch...then two...then three.
By the time I put the bridesmaid's dress on for the actual wedding it fit me much better - I could breathe and not have to worry about the zipper ripping loose in the middle of the ceremony.
I ended my relationship with the Ex two weeks after my brother's wedding. There was nuclear fallout. Stalking, cops being called, tears, fights, drama drama drama. I had started sleeping with Buzzard, and by then my diet consisted of diet Pepsi, a cookie every once in a while, and alcohol. Lots of alcohol. My form of exercise? Sex. Because with Buzzard, I think I burned more calories than if I had run 5 or even 10 Ks. My personal life was in shambles and the weight kept coming off. I look back at that time now and am not proud of what I see.
When I finally got most of my shit together, I managed to maintain, which is better than nothing. I'm still not considered thin, in fact, I think I'm ranked among the "morbidly obese," even though I don't jiggle when I walk and can kick your ass if you pissed me off enough. I am solid, sturdy, strong, and pretty well-proportioned for a girl my height. But now I feel another avalanche coming on, I'm tightening my belt again, and it's being fueled by cheese & crackers and Jagerbombs.
The Hardest Part Of This Will Be Saying No
The thing that sucks about the fact that my relationship with Buzzard will never be wholly restored is that I can't just call him up at 9:30 in the morning and ask him to bring me a pack of smokes. Or call him up and tell him that I haven't eaten in two days so that he'll take me to get some food.
He's got ulterior motives, and I knew this hadn't changed the second I looked at my phone the other night and saw that he was texting me.
Because, you see, I made the mistake of texting him on the way home from Baltimore the other night while I was still a shit-faced trainwreck. (Thank God Chrissy was driving.)
Him: You texted me the other night do you remember?
Me: Yea I found it the next day.
Him: What's up you ok
Me: I'm fine it was just a moment of weakness and lapse of judgement on my behalf.
(I was 4 Jagerbombs and 4 Bud Lights in at that point, remember.)
Him: Laps [sic] of judgement lol so professional.
Him: What are you doing
Me: Laying in bed.
Him: I'm lying on the couch playing with my cock
Him: R u asleep
Me: No sorry I'm on the other line with Tyler
(I was really talking to my friend, and I named him specifically because I can push Buzzard's buttons just by casually mentioning other males that I interact with, and Buzzard doesn't need to know that my friendship with Tyler is purely platonic.)
Him: Who's Tyler
(Exactly.)
Me: One of my friends
Him: U should cum suck my cock
Me: Really
Me: I want to hot tub
Him: It's not clean right now
Me: :(
Him: Sorry my cock could use you
Me: Where's [your girlfriend]?
Him: Home
Me: Why do you want me to suck your cock
Him: Cause you suck it so good
Me: Mhm
Him: I'm watching porn and rock hard
Me: What else is new
Him: Lol
Him: Do u still like eating cum?
(Seriously? I can't believe you're bringing this kind of shit up, you asshole. But what do I do? I play along, like an asshole.)
Me: You could say that
Him: Well if you hurry you can eat mine
(Ew.)
Me: I just rolled out of bed
It goes back and forth like this for a while, as I keep delaying it, hoping he'll just finish jerking off and stop asking me to come over. Because seriously, I was not going to get out of my pajamas just to go over there and suck his dick. I managed to throw it in his face, that I thought he might actually want to hang out as friends since we haven't seen each other in almost five months, and I received a real-time picture of his dick in response.
I attempted to clear some shit up though -
Me: I'd rather just hang out than suck your cock.
Him: Thats cool too, has to be between us
(??)
Him: Be a good little slut and drink me and go home
Me: (after seething for a good ten minutes) Good to know you still think so highly of me
Him: Of course I do, goes both ways right
(Yeah except if I actually did want to use you for sex, you wouldn't be able to get your dick hard because your emotion towards me is still frighteningly strong.)
Him: I don't think I can wait much longer
Me: I'm not sucking dick unless I get something in return and I still smell like strippers
(I did, I was at a strip club the night before getting wasted and throwing dollar bills at questionable dancers. Good times.)
Him: Lol. What do you want
Me: I dunno
Him: How about one day this week I do some really nasty shit to you, want to?
Me: (after more hesitation and deliberation) Sure what the hell.
He's breaking me down and he doesn't even know it. Or, he does and he doesn't give a shit. I don't know what the fuck I want, a friendship, a fuck-ship, or nothing at all. I spent five months realizing I could breathe again because he was no longer a part of my life. But I am the type of girl who will disregard everything I've told myself and plunge headfirst into a sea of regret.
He's got ulterior motives, and I knew this hadn't changed the second I looked at my phone the other night and saw that he was texting me.
Because, you see, I made the mistake of texting him on the way home from Baltimore the other night while I was still a shit-faced trainwreck. (Thank God Chrissy was driving.)
I hate you because I'm hearing songs that make me think about you and I'm drunk as fuck [sic].Oops. His first response, that came at 4:00 Sunday morning, was "You want my cock [sic]." Ugh. NO. That's not what I meant. But when I discovered on Saturday that I had made the awful mistake of drunk texting him, I knew that was how he was going to take it. I figured it best to just let it be. But he wasn't having that. So we spent all day Sunday afternoon going back and forth:
Him: You texted me the other night do you remember?
Me: Yea I found it the next day.
Him: What's up you ok
Me: I'm fine it was just a moment of weakness and lapse of judgement on my behalf.
(I was 4 Jagerbombs and 4 Bud Lights in at that point, remember.)
Him: Laps [sic] of judgement lol so professional.
Him: What are you doing
Me: Laying in bed.
Him: I'm lying on the couch playing with my cock
Him: R u asleep
Me: No sorry I'm on the other line with Tyler
(I was really talking to my friend, and I named him specifically because I can push Buzzard's buttons just by casually mentioning other males that I interact with, and Buzzard doesn't need to know that my friendship with Tyler is purely platonic.)
Him: Who's Tyler
(Exactly.)
Me: One of my friends
Him: U should cum suck my cock
Me: Really
Me: I want to hot tub
Him: It's not clean right now
Me: :(
Him: Sorry my cock could use you
Me: Where's [your girlfriend]?
Him: Home
Me: Why do you want me to suck your cock
Him: Cause you suck it so good
Me: Mhm
Him: I'm watching porn and rock hard
Me: What else is new
Him: Lol
Him: Do u still like eating cum?
(Seriously? I can't believe you're bringing this kind of shit up, you asshole. But what do I do? I play along, like an asshole.)
Me: You could say that
Him: Well if you hurry you can eat mine
(Ew.)
Me: I just rolled out of bed
It goes back and forth like this for a while, as I keep delaying it, hoping he'll just finish jerking off and stop asking me to come over. Because seriously, I was not going to get out of my pajamas just to go over there and suck his dick. I managed to throw it in his face, that I thought he might actually want to hang out as friends since we haven't seen each other in almost five months, and I received a real-time picture of his dick in response.
I attempted to clear some shit up though -
Me: I'd rather just hang out than suck your cock.
Him: Thats cool too, has to be between us
(??)
Him: Be a good little slut and drink me and go home
Me: (after seething for a good ten minutes) Good to know you still think so highly of me
Him: Of course I do, goes both ways right
(Yeah except if I actually did want to use you for sex, you wouldn't be able to get your dick hard because your emotion towards me is still frighteningly strong.)
Him: I don't think I can wait much longer
Me: I'm not sucking dick unless I get something in return and I still smell like strippers
(I did, I was at a strip club the night before getting wasted and throwing dollar bills at questionable dancers. Good times.)
Him: Lol. What do you want
Me: I dunno
Him: How about one day this week I do some really nasty shit to you, want to?
Me: (after more hesitation and deliberation) Sure what the hell.
He's breaking me down and he doesn't even know it. Or, he does and he doesn't give a shit. I don't know what the fuck I want, a friendship, a fuck-ship, or nothing at all. I spent five months realizing I could breathe again because he was no longer a part of my life. But I am the type of girl who will disregard everything I've told myself and plunge headfirst into a sea of regret.
Nice To Meet You, Please Call Me Deranged
I've come to realize that I've been conditioned to think that all men are whores. Nothing but big, fucking sluts. I don't know why or how this happened, but I cannot help it. I do not like that I think this way, because I always end up refusing to give any man the benefit of the doubt.
It's not necessarily in a bad way, though. Because I'm a whore. A big, fucking slut. Is that why I expect my lovers to be the same? When my drugstore cowboy tells me that he hasn't had sex since the last time we hooked up, do I believe him? I don't really know. (Actually I do kind of believe him because he's relatively shy; the only reason we ever made contact in the first place was because as soon as he walked into my bar I went right up to him and worked my charm as best and as hard as I could. That was about a year ago, and we're still going at it, so I think I did a pretty good job.) The other day P told me the last time he had sex was with me. That was almost two months ago. And he has a girlfriend.
When these boys of mine tell me this stuff I keep my mouth shut. In my head I'm thinking, Really? -This one- fucked my brains out last night. Or -this one- and I fucked for like, four hours the other day. But all I do is say, "No way," giggling, and proceed to do what I do best, and that is go down.
I assume this is the reason I'm single. I'm not complaining though. My last attempt at a relationship failed miserably, bringing me to the conclusion that right now, at this point in my life, every member of the opposite sex, with the exception of my two best guy friends, are only good for what's hanging between their legs. Or, better yet, how good they can make me feel between mine.
Am I wrong? Am I deranged for having this line of thinking? Really, please tell me, does this make me a heartless bitch that uses and abuses men just to get her rocks off?
It's not necessarily in a bad way, though. Because I'm a whore. A big, fucking slut. Is that why I expect my lovers to be the same? When my drugstore cowboy tells me that he hasn't had sex since the last time we hooked up, do I believe him? I don't really know. (Actually I do kind of believe him because he's relatively shy; the only reason we ever made contact in the first place was because as soon as he walked into my bar I went right up to him and worked my charm as best and as hard as I could. That was about a year ago, and we're still going at it, so I think I did a pretty good job.) The other day P told me the last time he had sex was with me. That was almost two months ago. And he has a girlfriend.
When these boys of mine tell me this stuff I keep my mouth shut. In my head I'm thinking, Really? -This one- fucked my brains out last night. Or -this one- and I fucked for like, four hours the other day. But all I do is say, "No way," giggling, and proceed to do what I do best, and that is go down.
I assume this is the reason I'm single. I'm not complaining though. My last attempt at a relationship failed miserably, bringing me to the conclusion that right now, at this point in my life, every member of the opposite sex, with the exception of my two best guy friends, are only good for what's hanging between their legs. Or, better yet, how good they can make me feel between mine.
Am I wrong? Am I deranged for having this line of thinking? Really, please tell me, does this make me a heartless bitch that uses and abuses men just to get her rocks off?
Shape Up or Ship Out
It never ceases to amaze me that as we get to know someone, they shed those onion layers one by one and all of the sudden it's time for the break-up talk, aka, "It's not me baby, it's you."
I liked this guy. He was a decent one. Really fucking attractive. And good in the sack. But I abruptly learned that just because you need to be schooling the masses on the tricks and techniques of oral sex, doesn't mean we should get married and start popping out babies.
I laid out the Good, the Bad, and most of the Ugly on our first date. He returned the favor enough to satisfy me and lead me to decide to go home with him. (Yeah so? I'm a big girl and I can make my own decisions.) As we started spending more time together, (especially after I decided, Okay, you're my boyfriend now and you can call me your girlfriend,) all the things he seemed to be? Like, aggressive, motivated, willing to take on the world one battle at a time? Nowhere to be found.
I was very disappointed. I had friends tell me that if I really wanted to settle down with someone who A) doesn't have a rap sheet, and B) isn't married, then I should just accept his passive nature. "He's a nice guy and he sexes you good right?"
Not good enough for me.
If I'm going to be someone's girl, he better be head over fucking heels crazy about me and prove it, not be worried he's going to scare me off. I don't care how nice you are, grow some fucking balls and 1) Stand up and defend yourself when you've been wronged by someone, (especially your fucking employer!) and 2) Fight with me! I'm stubborn, I'm obnoxious, and I will swear the sky is purple so you better prepared to tell me I'm wrong, no matter how many punches I may throw.
Bottom line is, he didn't step up to the plate and keep me in check. If you act like you don't care what I do, where I go, who I go out with, then it seems to me you simply don't care about ME.
My personality is dominant and I am the shot-caller in my everyday life. Sometimes I want to hand over the reigns and just be pretty on his arm.
Oh yeah, and after I told him I didn't want to sever ties with him totally, I still wanted to keep in touch because things could change so don't be a drama queen and delete me from your Facebook friends, what did I discover this morning? The bastard de-friended me. Fuck you, fuck you very much. Grow the fuck up.
I liked this guy. He was a decent one. Really fucking attractive. And good in the sack. But I abruptly learned that just because you need to be schooling the masses on the tricks and techniques of oral sex, doesn't mean we should get married and start popping out babies.
I laid out the Good, the Bad, and most of the Ugly on our first date. He returned the favor enough to satisfy me and lead me to decide to go home with him. (Yeah so? I'm a big girl and I can make my own decisions.) As we started spending more time together, (especially after I decided, Okay, you're my boyfriend now and you can call me your girlfriend,) all the things he seemed to be? Like, aggressive, motivated, willing to take on the world one battle at a time? Nowhere to be found.
I was very disappointed. I had friends tell me that if I really wanted to settle down with someone who A) doesn't have a rap sheet, and B) isn't married, then I should just accept his passive nature. "He's a nice guy and he sexes you good right?"
Not good enough for me.
If I'm going to be someone's girl, he better be head over fucking heels crazy about me and prove it, not be worried he's going to scare me off. I don't care how nice you are, grow some fucking balls and 1) Stand up and defend yourself when you've been wronged by someone, (especially your fucking employer!) and 2) Fight with me! I'm stubborn, I'm obnoxious, and I will swear the sky is purple so you better prepared to tell me I'm wrong, no matter how many punches I may throw.
Bottom line is, he didn't step up to the plate and keep me in check. If you act like you don't care what I do, where I go, who I go out with, then it seems to me you simply don't care about ME.
My personality is dominant and I am the shot-caller in my everyday life. Sometimes I want to hand over the reigns and just be pretty on his arm.
Oh yeah, and after I told him I didn't want to sever ties with him totally, I still wanted to keep in touch because things could change so don't be a drama queen and delete me from your Facebook friends, what did I discover this morning? The bastard de-friended me. Fuck you, fuck you very much. Grow the fuck up.
Indecisive
I can't make up my fucking mind. I get so lonely, yet the thought of committing myself wholly to someone scares the fuck out of me. I mull it over in my head to the point where I get sick of it - does my male counterpart even exist? What the hell do I even want?One side of my brain wants to remain alone. Because when I'm alone, I have the freedom to do as I please. But isn't that selfish? Well, the other side of my brain wants that someone to wake up next to in the morning. That someone to be absolutely insane with. To say fuck it, jump in the car with and head for the West Coast. The other side of my brain wants there to actually be a man somewhere out there whose child I would bear. In my mind, this child would be a perfect combination of two perfect insanities.
But I'm fooling myself. Yes, I love those mornings when I wake up and HB is lying next to me. But the bottom line is that he is no fucking good for me, even though when I'm in his arms I feel like everything will be okay.
He has yet to verbalize his wanting for me to be his girl. I explained to him that until he does so, he has no right to judge me. (He really doesn't have the right to even when and if I say yes.) So did I fuck up something that is potentially good, a new rollercoaster ride of love, emotions, sex, laughter and tears, because the other night some guy shoved his tongue in my mouth before I knew what was happening and HB saw it? Did I fuck up because I was drunk, it was Mardi Gras, and everything that happened was all in good fun? I don't fucking know the answer to these questions.
What scares me that when faced the potential of a new relationship, I freak out. A new relationship means giving up Buzzard. And I know in my heart it will take a hell of a man for me to do that. Is HB worth it? He tells me he's fucked up. Welcome to the club, baby, you think I'm not fucked up too? We can just be fucked up together, might make life a little more bearable.
I guess I can just dwell on it until I hear the words come out of his mouth. I can give him his space. Let him decide what he wants. I did tell him that if he wants me to back off then he better tell me. He told me it wasn't like that. But I'm not going to push the issue, even though I want so bad to get into his head and find out what it is that makes him tick. Even though I want to lay next to him and get lost in his baby blue eyes.
One day at a time, right?
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