Yet I Still Love Him...

How the fuck am I supposed to resign myself to a life filled with boring partners?  I mean, let's face it - chances are a lot higher now than they've ever been that I'm not going to find someone who I feel like I could spend forever with.  He left me, remember?
So now what?  Settle for men who strive to be complicated when really their only problem is that they choose to not open their mouths and speak their mind because they are afraid of what others may think?  Settle for normalcy and complacency in this Godforsaken PC world?  Fuck that.  Give me blood, guts and chocolate cake.  I'm not going to settle.  I'd rather resign myself to a life of solitude than settle for something that doesn't get my blood pumping faster through my veins.
So what do I have to look forward to?  Reverting back to an endless stream of lovers that do not stimulate my mind, much less my body?  Men who figuratively - and sometimes literally just - "lay there?"  Because no one knows what the fuck they want anymore.  We put so much emphasis on this fact that it destroys us and the ones who love us.
It doesn't have to be this fucking hard.
The thought of returning to the world of an interesting mind yet a boring lover, or a boring mind yet an interesting lover?  Makes me want to puke.  I had the best of both worlds, I had paradise in my hands and then watched him reduce it to nothing but ashes.

As of yesterday, he and I have plans to see each other on Monday.  I don't know what's going to come of it, but from what I can tell, he's planning on us going to a mutual friend's New Year's Eve party together.  I could also be wrong about that.  Whatever the case, I'm bracing myself for the worst.

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?

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.

Friends With Benefits - A Love Story

I've got a very close friend who's been around for about four years now and we've been spending a lot more time together over the past several months.  It started out strictly as a use-and-be-used kind of arrangement, but it's no longer like that.   We have what one could easily call the perfect Friends With Benefits relationship.  Not only do we have mind-bowing sex, we care about each other and we do things together.  We go out to eat, to clubs and bars, we do weekends at the beach, we talk at least once a day, watch movies or TV together, he'll come swimming if he has the day off.  We feel safe emotionally with each other.  Most FWB relationships I've had dwindled solely to "benefits," minus a friendship.  This guy and I have a pretty good - excellent in fact - idea of how our chemistry works, physically and emotionally.  We've been sleeping together for so long that almost nothing is off-limits.
One of the extra benefits of our relationship is that we can be completely open and honest with each other without fear of judgement or hurtful criticism.  I know he still has hang ups about his ex, and he knows just about the entire Buzzard saga.
I stay at his house now whenever I have work in the area.  He bought me a box of Splenda for my coffee and a glass jar to keep it in, I now have a toothbrush and washcloth there and his dog is accustomed to me being around.  I also stay over at least one night during the weekend and we go out or stay in and watch a movie.  Did I mention how good the sex is?  There's something about it that just...works.  I know what drives him crazy and he knows just what buttons to push to send me over the edge.
We're in a relationship but we're not.  I've decided to not over analyze anything, because there's no need to. If I need to know something I can always ask him, and sometimes I don't even have to do that.
The other night I received this text -
"Hey I just wanted to tell you that I really do like when you stay over with me.  It may be a little selfish of me, but when you're here you take away some of the loneliness that I feel.  I'm sorry I'm so...detached.  I am trying to get through it though.  Thank you :) Xoxo"
So I responded -
"You don't have to apologize to me, I know you're trying to get through it so that's why I'm not on your ass about it.  I feel the same way about the loneliness too, so don't think you're being selfish.  It's fun when we play house."
Him -
"I just want you to feel comfortable when you're here.  Thank you.  I like that you're able to sit and do your thing while I do mine.  It's a simple thing I know but it's still pretty cool."
Me -
"I do, believe me.  That day you told me that when I'm around you feel like you can relax, it made me feel good.  That's something I want people I care about to always feel when they're with me."
The talk then shifted to my work schedule for the upcoming week and of course, sex.  But seriously, how awesome is it that we have this kind of relationship?  Have you ever been lucky enough to have something like this?  Do you know anyone who does?
Whether or not I'm a part of his distant future and/or he's a part of mine is a moot point.  Same with whether or not he starts seeing someone or I do.  We don't worry about it.  We've been through all of that before and still came out unscathed.
Really, it's a beautiful thing.  I'm thinking about asking him to collaborate with me on a future post - How To Achieve an Easy, Uncomplicated, No-Strings-Attached Relationship (And No One Gets Hurt.)  Or something like that.  So keep an eye out for it, because if you come to a point in your life where you decide you have had enough drama and just want to enjoy the company of someone who doesn't give you any bullshit, but gives you incredible orgasms, then it might be worth reading.

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,

• 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.

I've said before that I wear my heart on my sleeve and am pretty sure it will be the death of me one day, but I no longer believe that.  I believe that this personality trait of mine only makes me more true to myself and those around me.  Love it or leave it, it's your call.  But know that if you decide to take off, I'm not following you.

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...

Insanity and the Task of Keeping Myself Occupied - And On A Negative One - From February 2012

     Like I said in my previous post, I tend to spend more time doing things that aren't necessarily healthy in regards to my mental well-being.  So while the list may be short, these activities can be utterly and devastatingly self-destructive.

 Destructive

• Booze
  -I've become concerned with just how much alcohol I've been consuming lately.  But does that make me sit back and consider slowing it down?  No.  Because when I drink it slows down the thoughts running through my head.  Usually.  Sometimes it just makes it all worse, but most of the time it's the former, not the latter.  
• Drugs
  -Luckily, I've never had a problem with this one.  There's a voice inside my head that constantly reminds me that if I start, I will never stop.  I guess that can be considered a benefit of being aware that I have an addictive personality.  Unfortunately others are not so lucky.
• Sex
  -This is probably the worst one for me personally.  I use sex as a means to escape, as a means of self-justification, as a way to prove that someone does want me.  I may not jump in bed with strangers on a regular basis (I used to,) but it's still a big part of my life.  I'm going to safely assume that the endorphin released in my brain during the act of sex does squash my feelings of depression and desolation for a short period of time.  (Ex. - this past week I was at Buzzard's Tuesday night.  Wednesday night Drugstore Cowboy decided to reappear in my life and I ended up at his house.  Thursday night I got a phone call from another previous lover and he came over.  Friday night Drugstore Cowboy called me again and was in my bed within an hour.  So that feeling of being wanted?  Yeah, it's nice.  And I didn't have one depressive episode all week.) 
• Engaging in unhealthy relationships
  -This is another big one for me.  When one feels like their self-worth is in the shitter, they'll take whatever attention and affection they can get.  My weakness is the one I call Buzzard.  I love that asshole with all my heart, and I know he loves me the same, but our relationship is incredibly volatile and damaging at times.  So why don't I just leave?  Because I'm not strong enough.

January was a very hard month for me, with work being slow, I had too much time on my hands, most of it spent in my room, alone, at a bar with a drink in front of me, in the bathtub with a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other.  I'm trying to pick up the pieces of my life and make decisions based on whether or not they will affect me in a positive or negative way, but it's not easy, and anyone who is afflicted by depression can tell you that.

So for now, it's one fucking day at a time.

Two Years Later... (From June 26, 2012)

My depression got worse before it finally got better.
I've lost touch with the D/s world and am okay with that.
Still a rock & roll junkie.
Still a bit trashy, but I've learned there's a time and place for it.
  Like heavy metal music festivals.
Still a broke bitch but my finances are now in much better shape, so instead of broke let's call it "frugal."
I'm not over Buzzard yet, I wasn't when I wrote it two years ago, but I have moved on and will not let myself look back.  I can't ever let him back into my life this time around.  Ever.  
I've lost even more weight.
And there's more gray hair throughout this mane of mine.
I no longer need contacts or glasses to see.
Cultivated more new friendships and let go of ones that faded away without remorse, animosity, or regret.
Still have the same job, going on year seven.
My nephew has taken to calling me Na-Na.
The car is paid off.
I have health insurance.
Nine tattoos instead of eight.
The revolving door my bed used to be is no longer in service.
  Aka - I'm learning to respect and love myself.
Still in tune with my sexuality but I yearn for something with substance.
I've been to Las Vegas for 3-11 Day and had the time of my life.
My mother and I are as close as ever.
Same goes for my brother and I.
I am fatherless now; mine has gone on to Heaven.
Attempting to grasp the fact that life is about the right-here-right-now, not the what-ifs, would-ofs, or should-ofs, or even the what-wills of the future.  It's about right now.

Gimme Some Sugar, Baby, Part V

While my emotions were still in a constant state of panic and uproar the year I broke up with my first love, I experienced the second one night stand that would change my world forever.  I was 24.  It was the beginning of a long, arduous journey of a torrid love affair, full of treachery, infidelity, sex and more sex, (yes, I'll admit it, some of the best sex I've ever had,) heartbreak, mind-fuckery and self-discovery.  If I had known that the first night I spent with this man would have shaped the woman I was to become three years later, would I still have done it?  At this moment, the answer is simply, "I don't know."

He taught me more than I'd like to admit, about specific kinds of sex, about life, about the importance of honesty, about myself.  He opened me up to entirely new worlds that I would not have discovered if it weren't for him, or I would have explored on my own and ended up hurt in more ways than I want to even think about.

To this day I am still attached to him, but on much less complicated terms.  It's not easy to cast him into the sea of forgotten lovers when we know each other's minds and bodies all too well.  When we know what makes each other tick.  When we know what to do to make each other come and just how to do it.  Right now I don't think I could even if I wanted to.

So we continue along as friends with benefits, sneaking around like we're in high school because of the drama that he seems to attract so well.  At the moment, he's the only guy I have on speed-dial, and I'd rather be sleeping with him than going out and looking for quick fixes that won't mean anything the next morning.

Gimme Some Sugar, Baby, Part IV

My senior year of high school, and most of my first year of college, consisted of those meaningless one night stands.  Sex was still new to me, but I learned early how to separate my heart from my cunt.  The first one night stand that knocked me down for the count ended up being the first man I ever loved.  We flirted and teased each other all throughout my senior year, the anticipation had built up immensely and we finally slept together for the first time the night before I moved away to college.  I had just turned 18.

I was torn up over him for two years.  Two years that were sprinkled with random meetings between us where we would hang out and we would fuck.  I did my best to get involved with and/or sleep with other men just to forget about him.  It took two years for him to realize how much he truly did care for me and we began building a life together the summer I graduated college.  What had started out as physical attraction turned into an emotional connection and the sex got better before it got worse.  We loved and learned about each others' bodies, he was the first guy I was comfortable enough with to let my guard down completely, and he was the first one to ever give me an orgasm.

The relationship lasted five years, which, in your early twenties, is equal to a lifetime.  Unfortunately, towards the end of the fifth year, the ship started sinking, and I bailed.

To be continued...

Gimme Some Sugar, Baby, Part III

A one night stand has done everything from completely derail me off of the straight and narrow path I was already on to simply having been another ordinary event on any other ordinary day, like a handshake or hug from an old acquaintance whose path crosses mine in the grocery store.  I've had my share of both types of encounters.

There have been those whose only purpose were means to an end, a few hours of pleasure with an otherwise complete stranger.  There was the unspoken agreement that phone numbers need not be exchanged, each party fulfilled their purpose and both were free to go their separate ways.  No damage done, cut and dry, no lifelong scarring need be inflicted.  I may not remember names or faces, but I will always remember those little hiccups, albeit pleasurable and fun (usually,) ones I've participated in on my journey through life.

Then there have been those that turned into more, that have changed and shaped me into the woman I am now.  Ones that knocked me on my ass and kept me going back for more.

To be continued...

Gimme Some Sugar, Baby, Part II

"One night stands can be nothing more than a few hours of pleasure, or they can be the beginning of something much more important, and it's impossible to tell until it's too late...
[That is] the real danger of a one night stand.  Not that it will lead to nothing, but that it will lead to everything.  In this way, casual sex is excruciatingly hazardous.  Those who are not ready to have their lives changed should probably abstain."


To be continued...

Gimme Some Sugar, Baby, Part I

Currently reading.  My favorite essay so far is called "Sex With A Stranger," written by Susan Cheever.

"If you are looking for love, sexual intimacy can be a shortcut.  It is among the fastest ways to get to know another person.  During sex, we literally and figuratively expose ourselves.  We show physical parts that are usually kept covered; we display our private likes and dislikes.  In its moments of unconscious response to physical pleasure, the body reveals a great deal of information:  a need to dominate, a difficulty following suggestions, an inability to express desires.  If we have trouble letting go or if we are painfully uncomfortable with how we look, it often shows up in the two-person drama of the sex act."


This little essay has inspired me to write about my experiences with one night stands.  Stay tuned.

"Just Keep Your Pants On"

So one of my boys put it into some sort of perspective for me the day my dirty laundry was aired to my Mama.


Me:  So after our conversation at the diner yesterday I now realize how much of a trainwreck I am.
Him:  Why baby??
Me:  Cuz you're right...I got my issues and my craziness and if I keep on going this way it's only gonna get worse.
Me:  -That one- got his official welcoming to the band last night.
Him:  Awwwwww
Him:  Listen this -anonymous- shit taught me NOT to second guess myself. You KNOW you. No one else does.
Me:  That's the problem. I USED to know myself. It's hard to believe but I used to have my shit together!
Him:  Well my darling, it's NEVER too late to make ANY changes you want or need.
Me:  Easier said than done. While it's all fun and games in the moment at the end of the day it kind of sucks.
Him:  -sad face-
Me:  Don't you feel that way sometimes?
Him:  Yea....I do.
Him:  A lot actually.
Me:  I wanna be a lil rockstar all the time and drink and fuck and party but it seems I can't do that and have any self respect at the same time.
Me:  Does that make sense?
Him:  Yes, it does, just STOP the whore-y stuff. Hang out with us and JUST be our drinking rock 'n roll friend. :)
Me:  Ha! I thought that was part of my charm! lol jk
Him:  No! We LOVE YOU! For YOU! You're one of US! Forever baby, forever!
Me:  Do you know how sweet that is?  It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside haha.
Him:  I'm NOT kidding, I'm DEAD serious.  You ARE -his band's name here- JUST like us.  Seriously!
Him:  You're NOT a fan, you ARE a part of our organization.
Me:  I'm not kidding either!  I LOVE being a part of the band!  Why else would I trudge my ass all over the tristate area when you guys play?
Him:  :)  You found a HOME baby :)
Me:  I did.  :)

The real test will be just being the drinking rock 'n roll friend.  Stayed tuned...

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.

Driving Home From Port Richmond On No Sleep Is NOT A Good Idea

The other night one of my boys and I were talking, and I pointed out his love of crazy bitches. More specifically, the love most guys have for those psychopathic, unstable women that will turn around and slash your tires out of the blue. 

"I may be slightly crazy, but I am not about to throw a brick through your front window."  (I said this specifically because I was referring to a story we both knew well.)
Unless you give me a valid reason to make sure your big, pretty truck somehow how manages to wind up at the bottom of the Christiana River.  Whatever.  That only happened once. 
He looked at me with wide eyes and replied, "You and I are the same!  We are huge sluts and that means we automatically have huge issues!"  He made a big, sweeping gesture with his arms to emphasize the word huge.  At least, I'm pretty sure he did.  I was a couple of drinks in at this point.

It's a concept I will never understand.  Granted, I used to be much worse off than I am now.  But I've realized that wasting crazy energy on men is simply not worth my time.  I'd rather utilize that energy and put it into writing, partying, or any kind of physical labor that leaves my muscles sore and gives me reason to be proud of myself.  Because truthfully, no one out there is worth my mental stability.
So why do the boys always go crawling back to the tire-slashing bitches?  I really want to understand this.

One guy I dated started seeing this psychopathic, fucked up, raging bitch of a...woman, who I believe was an alcoholic and I'm pretty sure she was some form of junkie, right after I severed all ties with him.  (Yeah yeah, we eventually started "seeing" each other again...)  Apparently she had him arrested on more than one occasion for terroristic threatening.  I remember pissing this guy off quite a few times, but terroristic threatening?  Nah.  Did I hate his guts and want to hurt him after he scorned me?  Sure.  But to fucking call the cops and deal with going to court and all of that bullshit?  No thanks.
"Why do you put up with her?"
"She's good in the sack."
"So you'd risk having your cock fall off (because she was, let's face it, skanky,) and going to jail just to keep sleeping with her?"
No response.

Another guy I was involved with had a psycho, alcoholic girlfriend who would get trashed in public and make an ass of herself and he was the poor sap who had to deal with her.  She was the brick-throwing bitch.  One time she wrecked the entire front end of his truck.  Another time, we were stripping down to get busy and I noticed claw marks across his chest. 
"Dude, really?"
He gives me this stupid, sheepish look.
"Yeah she came at me the other day.  I know, I know, but it's kind of...hot."
Oh sure, destruction of personal property and physical harm to one's significant other is hot.  But I must say here that the claw marks I left on his back after a particularly intense round of fucking were so much hotter. 

Am I the only one that sees something wrong with this picture?  I don't want to go off the deep end, (even though I'm pretty much there already,) just to keep some guy around.  Sometimes I feel like throwing up my hands and saying, "You want crazy?  I'll give you fucking crazy."
Even though I will keep you on your toes and there will never be a dull moment when you're with me.  You know, minus involving the police and making your life a living hell.

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.)

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.

Don't Piss Off the Wrong One

I'm living two separate lives over here.  Dr.  Jekyll and Mr.  Fucking Hyde.  How long am I going to be able to keep up this facade?  I go from one personality, The Angel, to the other, The Devil, in the blink of an eye.

To break it down, we have -

The Angel

• Typically hangs around during the week
• A school portrait photographer that works with the kiddies and gushes all over them when they are absolutely precious
• An aunt that adores her nephew and plays with him, sings to him, and smothers him with kisses whenever he's in her arms
• Wholesome and nice
• Tee-shirt and jeans or sweats, minimal makeup and jewelry, hair pulled up 90% of the time
• Frugal with her money and balances her checkbook to the penny
• In bed by 10 or 11
• Generally unrecognizable to those who are more acquainted with The Devil

The Devil

• Comes out to play at night, usually on the weekends
• A trashy, brass, and generally slutty rock & roll groupie
• Will sleep with the guitar player, or the bass player, or the drummer, or all three at the same time
• Loud and obnoxious with a drink always in her hand
• Dressed to kill, in stilettos 24/7
• Makeup and hair done to a T, loaded down with jewelry that usually gets lost or left on someone's nightstand
• Did someone say shots?  Can be found stuffing money down the bartender's pants or throwing dollar bills at the ladies
• Stumbles in the front door around 5 am
• Generally unrecognizable to those who are more acquainted with The Angel

This past Saturday night I engaged in absolute debauchery with a few band members after the show.  (Gimme some credit though, I've known these guys and have been partying with them for a while now.)  Then I stopped off at another one's house for some more even later night action.  The other night one of the regulars at the bar did a double take after asking me my name for the 100th time because I was wearing yoga pants, a hoodie, my glasses, very little makeup, and my everyday jewelry.  *shrug* It happens.

I Know A Drugstore Cowboy, So Afraid Of Getting Bored...

Well, I don't really know if he's actually afraid of getting bored, but that's a line from a great 311 song.  This guy works at the drugstore down the street from my house, so I gave him an appropiate nickname.  I can't get this fucker out of my mind, and it's driving me crazy.

He's 23.  Sure at first I was like, 23?  And still working part time at Walgreen's?  That's what we all did in high school and maybe while we were in college, (seriously, tons of people my age did that, including myself, my brother, my best friend, a few other friends, and even some people I work with now,) but I learned he's got his Associate's in biology and is now working on his bachelor's at U of D.  Brownie points.

He is fucking gorgeous.  And he has no idea.  He's painfully shy but when the clothes come off he's a total rockstar.  I don't quite think he'd make a suitable partner for me, because he is so damn quiet sometimes.  In most cases quiet = passive, and we all know how much of a disaster that can turn into with me, but he does have jerk-potential, and of course that turns me on.  Plus our babies would be relentlessly beautiful.

I cannot get enough.  

FUCK, he makes my head spin.  Every time I walk into that damn store and see him I am reduced to a puddle of mush and I get a crazy tingling sensation in my belly.  I hate that he's got that kind of power over me, but it's okay because he doesn't know.  I have to play it cool and try not to trip over my own feet and make sure I wipe the drool from my chin before he sees me, and this is just at his place of employment.  I really don't know how I manage to keep my composure when I'm standing naked in front of him in his bedroom.

It's as simple as that.  I cannot get enough.  When I'm ridiculously horny, he's the only one I fantasize about.  We've been fucking around for about a year, and I still can't get over how beautiful he is, and the fact that I have actually managed to get him into bed.  It never, ever, occurs to me that someone as attractive as him would even give me a second look.  But he did. (Well, he had no choice because the night he walked into my bar I made a beeline for him, I introduced myself while running my hand through his shoulder-length hair, and charmed the pants right off of him.  Literally.)

I can't say I'd be surprised that I'm on his mind alot, too.  The booty calls at 3 or 4 in the morning a couple times a week give me that impression.  Usually I'm passed the fuck out, but that's okay, right?  If I jump at his beck and call then he'd get too used to it.  And we all know this girl doesn't want that.

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?