Can I Borrow Your Neuralyzer??

Friday night I was supposed to go out with BD…

BD, a lothario from my recent past.  If I believed in a god, I would tell you that god had blessed him immensely, we always have a good time, we have HOT sex and I genuinely like him.  Over the period of time that we’ve seen each other, he said he didn’t think he was ready for a “relationship”, which I interpreted as meaning that he just didn’t want to be in a relationship with ME.  Which didn’t surprise me, because, who does want to be with me??

Right? Only my cat and I really question her judgment.  She obviously makes bad decisions or she wouldn’t have ended up out on the streets in the first place.

But now…. BD tells me that I am the only girl he talks to and the he really wants to have a “relationship” with me.  That statement has progressed from “I want to try to give you what you need” to “I want a relationship with you”.

Friday night, however, didn’t happen.  He has a new job and has been working ridiculous hours and didn’t get off until late.  He still wanted to get together, but I offered a raincheck.  We decided we would have lunch on Sunday.

I ended up in the ER Sunday morning.

F M L.

He has continually checked on me…  I really want to see him.  But, not just for the sex that I sooooooooo badly need.  I want to kiss his dimples.  Is that fucked up? That is NOT me.  Maybe I had a stroke and I just don’t know it yet.

So that scares me… when I get scared, I end up running for the hills, screaming like a banshee, pulling my hair out and generally avoiding eye liner… all things bad for me and ridiculously unseductive.

I’m trying to be brave and I AM going to see him.

Someone that I love and respect madly told me that if I don’t at least try, he will be pissed at me… so, MG, I will try… I promise.

So, Friday night, I just hung around in my pjs, watched a few episodes of “The Dead Files” and felt kinda crappy, which came to an unexpected head Sunday morning.

Anyway, I get a text message from my EX sister-in-law that I’ve only spoken to a handful of times over the last 4 years.

I don’t dislike her, she and I always got along pretty well… but, with divorce and distance, those relationships fall to the wayside.  It’s ok.

The messages started out innocuously “Hey, how are you.”

Then progressed to “I wanted to talk to you about relationships”.

SAY WHAT?

I replied with “I’m not sure I’m the best person to discuss relationships with, you were witness to what a spectacular disaster my marriage was.”

But, just like every other person that wants to tell me things about their life that I don’t want to know, she is undeterred.

Her marriage is miserable, he ignores her, and she tries to think of excuses not to go home…

I suggest talking, counseling, trying to reconnect, etc…

Then she drops the mutherfucking atom bomb.

“There’s something else.”

“Okay.”

“I’m having an affair.”

Well slap my ass and call me Fanny… why in the holy hell would she feel compelled to tell me that?  That is the LAST thing that I wanted to know.

I AM THE GIRL THAT WAS CHEATED ON IN MY MARRIAGE.

I hate to judge people, I REALLY do and I try so goddamn hard not to… but sonofabitch!

THEN, she tells me who she’s fucking around with.  Thank the universe I don’t know him.

Did she want me to tell her that I think it’s ok?  I will not.  If you’re done with someone, grow some balls and end it… don’t be a fucking coward and sneak around like some common tramp.

I said that it is up to us to find our own happiness, but we shouldn’t destroy others in the process.  And in what reality am I the voice of reason??  I’m the screw-up, I’m the mess, I’m the fucking disaster on wheels….

AND… once you know something you can’t UN-know it.

Sonofa…

Now, fever, please vanquish ASAP!!

Mirror, Mirror…

“You are extremely sexy- it’s your superpower – use it for good.”

This from a man that I had a fling with about a year ago, a sexy older man… who was going through a divorce… we were so not in the same place.  But, it was ok; it was really what we both needed at the time, neither of us had any delusions that it was more than it was.

He reached out to me after reading some of my stuff…

Wouldn’t it be nice to see yourself through the eyes of someone else??  Obviously, not someone that hates you or thinks that you’re a fuckweasel, but someone who thinks good things about you.

I’d like to look in the mirror and not see ugly and lame… I’d love to see the funny, artsy chick that some people think I am… I’d love to see sexy or, just for a minute, beautiful.

Who are the people that can see themselves for what they truly are?  Do these people even exist (that aren’t raging narcissists)?

I tried for a while, to enumerate some things that I didn’t think were bad about myself, tell myself every morning that I’m good enough, that I’m worthy…

It was an exercise in futility.

I’m thinking about getting hypnotized…  it’s worth a shot, right?????

I fear that if I used sexiness as a superpower, I’d just destroy cities and shit… I mean, how could I resist???

Not A Keeper

Not a keeper.

That’s who I am.

I should really be used to it by now.

I’m not.

Want a girl to have a good time with? Want a girl who can hold her own at the bar? Want a girl that isn’t afraid to do something totally crazy?  Want a girl to have a few weeks of crazy sex with??

I’m the girl for all of that.

Want a girl to be your girlfriend?  Want a girl to take home and meet your mother?

I’m apparently not the girl for that.

I hope you’ll forgive me for all of the whining I’m doing here… I do have friends, believe it or not.

But, I’m a suicide survivor, and they get all freaked when they think I’m down.  I don’t want to freak them out.

I need to vent.

“You’re not picking the right guys” is what I hear.   How in the fuck do you know who is the right guy?  Where in the fuck is he hiding?  Is it just not in the cards for me?

I hate all of these feelings of inadequacy… not pretty enough, not skinny enough, not smart enough, not funny enough, not successful enough… where does it end?  When will I ever feel good enough?

I don’t see it happening any time soon….

But, hey, I’m not lying in the bathtub with a blade to my wrists, so I’m not doing too bad.

Un-Fuck Me, Universe

Some days are hard… fucking hard.

Today has been one of those days for me.  Sometimes the weight of my loneliness hits me squarely in the gut… deflating me like a balloon, 3 days after the birthday party.

I drove around for a little while with the camera, only got about 4 photos I liked, then the rain forced me to go home, and I slept the afternoon away.

I went radio silent, no texting, no emailing…  is that healthy? Unlikely…  Do I know what is healthy? Unlikely.

Sometimes the darkness swallows me, I’ve learned that fighting it is futile… I’ll wallow a while, I suppose… what else do I have to do?

I wish that I had a normal, chemically-un-fucked brain.

Sigh.

 

Come to me, Precious

I’m still waiting for the black fog to lift… I am still, however, going through the motions of my life… all day today, the only thought in my mind is that I can go straight to bed after work.  I do not feel compelled to slash my wrists, so it could definitely be worse.

I’m not really a slug, honestly I’m not.  I did go to Yellow Springs with God yesterday and we photographed the sunflowers and had a good time, I’m not sure I feel quite as creative as usual… but I’m out there.

I have a couple of potential dates on the horizon, but I refuse to get my hopes up, I’m just not doing it.

Today I am thinking about pet names.  I call people “darlin'”, lots of people, just not people that are fuckweasels.  It’s the southern belle that resides deep within me I guess… I don’t mind pet names, I’d actually kind of like one if I was in a relationship.  I will admit sometimes I’ll call someone darlin’ when I’ve forgotten their name, but I have short term memory issues, so it’s totally okay.

I once got a barrage of messages on POF from this man who owned a funeral home.  Now don’t get me wrong, I have no issues with that profession.  Actually, if I could afford to go back to school, I’d study mortuary science.  I know that I could do it, I’ve performed post-mortem care on many patients in my career, and surprisingly, I’m good with people.

But, I digress…

Funeral Home Guy (FHG) looked like he owned a funeral home.  But, again, I don’t have a type and that would not have bothered me.

What DID bother me, was that in EVERY email that he sent me he addressed me as “Precious”.  Yep, you heard that right.  All I could think of was the little dog in Silence of the Lambs… then my mind went to “it rubs the lotion on the skin, or else it gets the hose again”.  That’s when FHG creeped me the fuck out.

The emails didn’t stop, and neither did my imagination.  I’m okay with being submissive, but I’m not sure I’d be ok with being submissive in a coffin, and would he pack me in ice before we fornicated???

He also had younger children, who I imagined had lazy eyes, limps and an excessive number of fingers… and possibly licked the dead bodies after they were embalmed.

FHG eventually gave up.

I wonder if he ever met anyone?  Probably, and I’m still alone…

Here’s what I do to occupy myself on the weekends:  http://reflectionsuponmyreality2.wordpress.com/2013/09/23/the-porny-house/.

 

 

 

Existential Crisis…CHECK!

How am I dealing with my recent existential crisis you might ask…

 

Well, last night I colored my hair… DARK. 

I told a friend that I want to feel like someone different, like someone less awkward and less maladjusted.  We shall see how this works out; everyone knows that hair makes the woman right?

 

And… I’ve accepted two dates, that I may not back out on.  One with an Irish guy (I have a little weakness for them) and another with a lead singer in a band… and there is still BD.

 

Maybe I’ll make a giant check-list… I am a lover of lists although I’ve never implemented one in my dating life… which is pretty odd if I do say so myself.

 

That will be my next endeavor, Check List to Date Trip.

Any suggestions???

 

Have Some Self Respect Woman…

Ok, I decided I am NOT having drinks with the ex.. that would only go one of two ways, neither of which would be good.

But, I did reactivate my OkCupid profile… I need some attention.  I’ve gotten about 10 messages in 2 hours.  Who knows if I’ll ever meet any of them, but I am not completely ruling it out.

I’ll probably start freaking out by tomorrow and deactivate my account again, but maybe not, I should suck it up until I meet THE ONE… right?? hahaha, yea right…

Maybe something will work out… the guy that wants to “try” and give me what I need, he just started a new job but suggested we go out this weekend… he will be known as BD from here on out.

I’m not ruling out BD, he’s adorable and we had some chemistry and he never did anything that made me think he’s a total fuckweasel.

Maybe OKC will bring Mr.Right to my email box, and maybe I won’t be too pessimistic to realize that it’s him…

It could totally happen, right?

If nothing else, maybe I’ll get some interesting stories.  I have decided that if things don’t turn around this week, I’m going to say yes to every date I’m asked on for the next month.  That should not be a total fucking disaster at all.

I Do Not Have Stockholm Syndrome

I love beer.

Beer loves me.

It is good to be loved… but I need some love that isn’t cold and wet.

Sigh.

I lived the fuck out of Beerfest Friday night.  I drank a ridiculous amount of really yummy craft beer.  I hung out with a guy named Scott as we roamed around trying beers, sampling each other’s beers… I met every Irish person there, I’m pretty sure (was wearing my Ireland jacket)… I think a guy with a handlebar mustache kissed me… I chatted with a homeless guy for a while, about peace and, of course, beer… I danced… I took photos… I poured beer… and I have no memories of going back to my friend’s place, none, not a single fleeting memory.

I went to my family thingy on Saturday, the 2 hour drive with a ridiculous hangover, was totally awesome… but I enjoyed it.  Everyone told me how good I looked, who gets tired of hearing that?  Very little was said about my dating life, or lack thereof.

Sunday I laid around most of the day, mostly feeling sorry for myself.  I know, pathetic.  I did make soup, delicious veggie soup and tasty NOT SWEET cornbread… how have I not been claimed by now?!?! I cook for fuck’s sake and I’m kind of a freak (in a great way)!!

I woke this morning, at the ass-crack of dawn, after 2 back-to-back dreams where I was being held hostage… and not in an I-have-Stockholm-syndrome-and-I-love-it kinda way.  I woke up sweating, my heart racing and I was trembling.

My head is a scary place right now.

I need to take some sort of a step, I HAVE to.

An ex wants me to go out for drinks tonight and another guy I used to see who was relationship-phobic told me that he wants to try to give me what I need relationship-wise.  The whole “try” thing makes me nervous.  I mean, I know that’s all any of us can do is “try”, but when someone puts the emphasis on “try” is that basically saying “it probably won’t work out, but at least I can say I ‘tried’?”

Am I over-thinking this?

Oh, and my friend that worked Beerfest with me told me that he loved me… which he does EVERY SINGLE TIME we are out drinking.  I always act like it didn’t happen… early Saturday morning (I crashed at his place, no boom-boom) he said he really liked having me there and said he wasn’t drunk…

Weird.

I should just focus on finishing my novel and the photography… but I’m so fucking lonely…

 

Please Pass the Bottle…

Well, it’s Wednesday, and I’m still feeling fucking crazy.

Thank you Universe for booze… what would I do without you?  I lack the dedication necessary for a drug habit and I have a little OC that would make heating something in a spoon and injecting a complete impossibility.  I, interestingly, had a 70yo patient recently that has a crack habit… how does that even happen? Maybe my Grandma could use a little crack, she’s kinda mean and doesn’t like me… however, that’s a story for another day.

I went out for drinks with a friend that I used to date and a friend of his…  I did not like her at all.  She was pompous.  We took her up to our favorite bar, a bourbon bar.  She was so fucking annoying that I wanted to slap the shit out of G for introducing her to such an awesome place, she didn’t deserve it.  Then she showed the bartender a (I didn’t see it) semi-nude friend of hers from Nashville that she’s totally bringing there next weekend.

WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT?

I love this bartender and I’ve known him for a while, he’s a good guy… he was clearly uncomfortable at her weirdness.  Crawdad joined us before I resorted to slamming her head onto the bar and we slipped outside to smoke… guess who followed going on about how awesome the bar was, blah blah blah…

Yea, I know, I’ve been coming here since it opened, they know me by name, they know my favorite bourbon… this is MY BAR.  GO HOME.  Oh yea… and SHUT THE FUCK UP.

I apologized to Aaron when I cashed out…he shook his head “It’s ok”.

Now, I may have still had some anger seething below my calm and cool surface last night… maybe it was hurt feelings… maybe it was just my crazy trying to come out, I don’t know… but if it weren’t for good bourbon the night would have been a total wash.

I told Crawdad that I was done, out, finished, stick a fork in me…

“Done with what?” he asked “Men, dating?”

“Yes” I said “All of it, everything, I can’t take anymore.”

“So what about women?”

“No, Crawdad, that’s not on the table.”  He looked a little disappointed.

I’m rambling… the crazy is strong in this one today my friends…

But, hey, my hair is growing!!! Take that chemo!!!

I’m Having a Moment

Do you ever just wanna chuck it all and jump on the fucking crazy train?? Let every cray-cray overly obsessive thought just come tumbling out like the levee done broke??

Today… I want to do that.

Don’t send me mixed signals mutherfucker, don’t be passive-aggressive (or just passive), grow some balls…

I want to quit over-thinking EVERYTHING, I want to jump in without holding my nose, I want to be hedonistic, I want to fly my freak flag…

I’m having a moment…

I’m a little crazy, in a totally charming kind of way, but I struggle with it, thanks to the batshit crazy women that have come before me, my charcrazy can be a sign of more crazy to come from the average available male.

But who am I being fair to?  Myself? Negative.  Mr.AverageAvailableMale? Negative.

Am I over-thinking this?

Oh fuck yea I am…

How can I over-think everything and still make bad decisions?