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I suppose it’s all out now.

I came back.

To the fucky island full of fuckbois.

“I thought you hated it there”, she said.

I did, sometimes. But also, I don’t.

Nowhere is perfect, perfection doesn’t exist.

The men here are maddening, but I didn’t come back for them. I came back for me, and a bar I love and a job I really wanted that was custom made for me. I came back with my eyes wide open this time. I know exactly what I am getting into and I know I cannot predict the future, I won’t even try.

A lot of my current friends came along at a point in my life where I really only aired clean laundry on Facebook, once in a blue moon if I was falling apart, I would say so. I figured if I forced myself to seem positive, positivity would follow.

And for the most part, it worked. Then I came here and Stompy happened, that started the avalanche of suck and I had no idea what I was getting into and I couldn’t get my feet under me for more than five minutes.

Each snowflake in an avalanche pleads not guilty. Stanislaw J. Lec

But I am okay now.

I didn’t know what I was getting into and I truly believed it was going to be a cake walk with boy snuggles and it wasn’t.

No idea why I thought that. Roses have thorns and honey comes with a sting.

Like I said, I was doing everything wrong. So I got a do-over and I am doing it right now. Or at least better.

No more girl’s house. I have a pretty dove grey room upstairs to sleep in and a giant room downstairs to live in. No more hiding out in bed all damned day. I live in a real house like a real girl. I still have all the keys and responsibility of the other house. I popped by yesterday to ascertain how things were going there. Smoothish. First management meeting on Tuesday. I have all the passwords and a lot of responsibility.

I did a lot this week all things considered. I have a long way to go. At least I have coffee now. The first few hours of the first day were a bit rough. 7 days in the car during my 18 days away. I did not want to drive, but drive I did. Groceries, gas, and my last stop at Tim Hortons for a long while.

I made it to St. Apollonaire Quebec on the second day driving away from here. Picked my stopping point by sheer luck that there was an exit with coffee, food, gas and lodging all in a little roundabout 2 seconds off the highway.

I had a colossal melt down as I got in line for the ferry the night prior. A big black pickup truck pulled in behind me and I realized in that moment I was stuck leaving and I couldn’t turn around. A nice Newfie in the SUV ahead of me had a mini bar in the back (of course he did) and poured me a triple Jack Daniels so I could pull it together enough to change into my pajamas and I managed to sleep sitting half up in a chair.

I felt better the next day and the thought that kept me from melting down again was ‘I can always go back’. I walked around with matches and gasoline it seemed but I burned no bridges. So the same way I left in Novemeber, sad but determined to get back, was the way I left in August. No firm plan, but the firm plan I had hadn’t exactly worked out. I had places to land on the mainland and all the time in the world to figure it out. Had planned a trip to BC, had places to go and people to see. I got this.

Day 2. On the road for 12 hours on 6 hours sleep.

8:30 rolled around and I realized I need off the highway, I was dazed totally lost in my thoughts. 800 km on the same stretch of road. I really thought there would be more rest stops, but once I get driving I have a hard time pulling off the road. Highway hypnosis is real kids.

So I pulled off at my magical everything in one place exit and walked into a McDonalds. Phone in hand. 9 missed calls, what the fuck? Mark and Tina 3 Chains, text messages galore. “Call Mark right now” she said. “Call me right now” he said. Trying to order a burger in French, that didn’t go well, balancing my tray trying to get ketchup thinking, “I was only gone a day, did the bar burn down?”

I called Mark, he asked how soon I could get back, and that the job I wanted was mine.

I emailed my boss with terms, he agreed and added a few bonuses.

So ya, here I am.

I have bartending shifts. I am officially in charge of all things strippery. I am a literal Madame. Always wanted to do that, and now I am.

I have no idea what is going to happen. I moved into Dirty Uncle Brian’s house sight unseen and I like it here. Alice my darling puppers is with me. Mark got happy and exclaimed “she brought her dog, she’s never leaving!” I never say never, but I am here for a good long while.

All my stuff will be on a truck in a few days and before it gets here I have a lot of work to do. It feels good to say that. No more agony in atrophy. I have 3 winter coats and all my clothes coming. And yes, it’s cold here but I love dressing for fall and spring, and have landed on the island of fucky weather. My furniture and all of my things that make me happy and home.

I don’t know what the future holds, but in this moment I am happy and optimistic.

He had just braided his fingers into my hair and said he was happy I didn’t have extensions.

I smiled, “What kind of girls are you fucking honey?” He didn’t answer.

“You have never seen me shiny or strippery.”

“Nah, I like you like this.”

“I just got out of the water, I look like a sea witch.”

“Nah, this is you. Beautiful.”

Every once in a long while I am handed a sincere compliment with no agenda. I hold onto them like diamonds.
I’m the first to admit I am insecure. He sugar coated it and called me humble, but we will get back to that in a minute.

“She’s just margarine. Fake, plain, toxic in large doses, only so much eyeshadow and Snapchat a girl can take really. And I know he was engaged. So that’s that then.”

We both chuckled and he took me upstairs. I kept waiting for the guilt to kick in but it didn’t. He came out of the shower and laid down next to me. Kept telling me how strong my hands are as I kneaded this muscle or that one.

It didn’t start out that way, I don’t usually double dip with ex’s friends, and I haven’t slept with someone one of my girlfriends liked since I was in my 20’s. Except Moonface but I saw him first. PIC wanted him and instead of taking one for the team, I took one for me. She got over it.

And I took one again for me, this man, with his honey coated tongue and fingers made of molten steel pulling me apart and putting me back together. Saying all the sweet things first with his mouth, then his hands, then all in.

Right before he remarked that he loved we could just lay together mostly naked, and there was no pressure for sex.

“About that” I said. “I was waiting on you.”

He grinned a Cheshire cat grin and

Flip

Switch.

I do love that flip.

Switch. From tender to intense. From gentle to bestial.  From reverent to wanting.

I was not disappointed.

“Do you trust me?”

In that moment I realized I did.

FUUUUUUUUCK, there is nothing sexier than a tanned, buff, naked man standing beside the bed while my legs quake, asking that question. Except what happened after.

…

I started writing this, scrapped it and started again. I was on a self-imposed gag order about where I was going and what I was doing but I realized by the time I got to sit at my laptop everyone would know. So here I am. Committing memories to the archives. The thing about driving for days is you have a lot of time to think/remember. I have driven 10,000 kilometers over 7 days in the last 18 days. Not including city trips and the quarry.

I wouldn’t have it any other way. My shoulders hurt, I never want to eat at Tim Horton’s again, and I already need another oil change, my 3^rd this August. But I am calm and I am Zen and I am happy.

They say living well is the best revenge. I say no revenge is the best revenge.

The opposite of love is indifference (so pay attention now, I’m standing on your porch screaming out, and I won’t leave until you come downstairs) The Lumineers, Stubborn Love.

Ignore that last part in parenthesis, I refuse to stalk. Maybe I shoulda, but I won’t. Not my thing. Clear invitation or I ain’t coming. Preferably 2 or 3, see above. I am insecure.

I just really like that song and for once I would like someone to stand on my porch and scream my name. It’s been a long hot minute since anyone threw pebbles at my window. It was romantic though if memory serves.

Almost threw pebbles at the aforementioned ‘his’ roommate’s window during a heatwave a couple years back. I said so, jokingly once and he replied, “You could just call you know, you never call or text.” I didn’t. See above where I am insecure and need 1-3 invites to go anywhere.

Where was I going with this?
…
Oh ya. It was weird that I messaged him at all. Hadn’t seen or heard from either of them in a while.

“Are you at home? I feel like swimming.”

“I am, let’s go.”

(later)

“Do you trust me?”

I nodded.

“Put your arms around my neck.”

I can’t remember if I had done this before or if I just watch way too much porn, but DAMN.

He hooked his arms under my knees and lifted me up like I was light as a feather; he was stiff as a board.

OH
MY
GOD

GOODGODDAMN

So where does the revenge come in?

It really doesn’t.

To fully understand we must cross reference with events that occurred in June 2018. A friend, that I am no longer friends with, let’s call her Becel, and I wandered down to the beach for a swim and a tan and came back with an invite to dinner by 2 beautiful men.

The one I liked, liked me and became my summer fling. The other two, not so much.

Mine, I found out later, was engaged to a girl back home, far far away. So I left it and him alone.

My friend in question? That friendship has dissolved in a vat of sulfuric acid, ripped dresses and unpaid bills.

Now usually I carry a lot of gilt for a non-Catholic.

I get more sad than angry. Carry the hurt instead of lashing out and hurting others. And in the grand scheme of things I didn’t hurt anyone. Just got a porn sex, multiple orgasms with a back rub and some good pillow talk karmic reward.

It takes a lot for me to be done with someone, and the two in question…done.

They don’t exist. For a second I felt bad. Like ghosts haunting a perfectly good moment.

And I don’t feel bad about it
It’s exactly what you get
Stop interrupting my grinding*

He didn’t feel bad either.

“I wasn’t really that into her. I always had a bit of a crush on you to be honest.”

I like honest.

“She had way too much attitude for someone so average you know?”

Oh I know.

“I prefer my women beautiful and humble.”

(forehead kiss)

Thanks baby.

“She said if I didn’t message her back I was dead to her.” he laughed.

“You don’t feel dead, nice and warm actually.” He pulled me closer.

I can see clearly looking back that I have a habit of picking the wrong friend when it comes to dating, and life in general.

Flip

Switch.

(*Beyonce)

Once upon a time farm hubby decided we were gonna wait 3 months before we had sex. Like date proper, really get to know each other and see if we actually liked each other.

Okay.

We did, or close, like maybe 2 months and 3 weeks. Good call, by the time we got around to it I was pretty smitten. I mean I stayed for 7 years, mostly, through quite a bit of heinous fuckery most foul. Longest relationship I’ve ever had to date. I would draw a correlation and I still might, but…

We all know what happened there. And truth be told that was a 7 year itchy dry spell. Sex was not a huge part of the relationship, and for me it needs to be. It’s one of my love languages, touch, and it’s a biggun’. It wasn’t one of his, so 3 months of waiting was torture for me and a cakewalk for him.

I’m not generally a waiter. I see someone shiny and vibey and this guttural voice sounds in my head “I want that one.” I think the grunting voice belongs to my vagina and head and heart know better than to argue so they follow along.

Also I have been a practising cougar for a while now. I know better than to try and “date” anyone in their 20’s.
And that 28-32 year old window is a dangerzone where they want kids and wives and no thanks. So ya. Logic and circumstance and my choices dictated everything be casual. And it was, and it was pretty good, amen.

Cruz and I banged on the first date and I woulda put money on never seeing him again, but he kept showing up with flowers and food. He was 25. It didn’t make sense, but it was good for a bit. So there goes that theory.

I kinda fucked up with Young Un the First and wanted a title 4 months in. That was 5 years ago and I had no idea what I was doing. Lesson learned and not to be repeated. He treated me more like a proper girlfriend than most of them, might’ve continued if I hadn’t gotten greedy. I get it now.

I have also been pretty allergic to the idea of being in a traditional relationship. I still have wars in my head about it. There were a couple that seemed viable.

3 in the last 5 years.

One I jumped into bed with pretty quick, like 3 weeks and a handful of dates and it was over pretty quick. No fault on either of our parts, circumstances dictated he had to go away. But maybe…nah, I know what went wrong there.

(Biker Body Pillow reminded me it took me almost a year to get over that one and I almost went back.)

One courted and wooed me for over 2 months intermittently, and in retrospect I shoulda held my ground a bit longer but, he was delicious. King of the Fuckboys come to find out, but delicious. Fuckboys usually are the yummiest of all the snacks. He was my 3^rd round of lightning sex. It’s rare but it happens. It isn’t mystic, I’ve had mystic/cosmic….but he was definitley electric.

And the Last One. I mentioned that he messaged the minute I sat my road weary, traumatized ass on the couch after the 3 day drive back from Newfoundland. I swear he knows things, slightly psychic and the thread is still there. I feel the pull every now and again. He pursued me for a year, like a full calendar year before I agreed to meet him. I flat out refused to fuck him on our first date even though he drove a 10 hour round trip to hang out with me for 6 hours.

Two weeks later he did the drive again and after much discussion about waiting longer, we both had some vodka and caved. Lightning sex round 2. He likes to remind me it was September 22^nd, he remembers everything and yet… He likes to remind me of the fact that he remembers everything too. He was gone by October 6^th, I haven’t forgotten that part.

I don’t think he bailed because we slept together. But maybe… it’s a thing that happens.

But there is proof to the contrary in Giant, who I fucked on the second date, and he was still in my life 2 and a half years later.

Big Spoon also politely and insistently asked me out for a full year. I refused because
1. I’d briefly dated a co-worker of his and
2. because I ended up getting a job where he worked
3. he was really young and
4. a myriad of reasons.
We waited awhile and he is still good to me to this day.

And he was the only one from home who remembered when I was coming back and checked on me. He asked me out proper when I got home. I’m not going, I don’t have time, but it was nice to be asked. It is the one year anniversary of our first date. Facebook memories showed me. But again, young and not viable. He likes to remind me I have spoiled him forever with how I do things. Nah babe, just set the bar higher, I was never his girl.

I am wondering if I will ever be anyone’s girl. I’m wondering if I care.

I am tired of waiting for them to smarten up and realize what they have lost. Time to earn it instead, harder to drop something you had to work for I suppose.

They all love me after I leave and for that I have to be gone and it seems rather counterproductive and really unfair to me.

I have made some decisions and a new rule.

60 days. Be consistent, hang out with me, text and check in and then maybe we will see about the sex part.

I am busy, I have shit to do and I am tired of one night stands.

Next time my princess parts yell out that they ‘want that one’, Ima remind her, good things come to those who wait.

“I knew you weren’t coming back. That boy coulda drop dead at your feet and you woulda have curled up next to his corpse.”

Mark said that. Mark knows pretty much everything ever. And I have to admit this to be the absolute truth.

I am gone.

I’m also not supposed to mention Him, but I have once, in passing, when I was listing off all the things I had to go through, get through, and live through out there. Whoops. His ex did stalk the fuck outta me. These things happened, no point in denying them. Kinda proud of surviving really.

And ya, a fucking lot of it sucked, hard, bad and overwhelmingly. I felt like I was in a boxing match, just hit after hit, but I wasn’t punch drunk…I was actually drunk.

A lot of good happened too.

I saw whales and dolphins.

Funny story actually. My second time whale watching we came back to harbor and there were 4 boys out on seadoos, I felt a little twinge of “I wanna be doing that.” Instead of having to rush home to get to work after having this amazing day. I dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. I didn’t think much of it really, until later that night, when I found out by fluke (give me one pun) that the boy was on one of said seadoos, and it became a metaphor for how things were. I’m over here doing one thing, he’s over there doing another… close but never quite right.

So be it.

I am gone.

I went to the quarry with Mandy today. Had the sunroof open. Coffee, smokes, open road and the music cranked. I haven’t been swimming this year. No wonder I was mega-super-ultra-depressed, surround by water and I never went in past my knees. I fucking live to swim, I was at the quarry 3 days a week last year. Closest I came was walking into Middle Cove with my dress pulled up as far as I could, I wasn’t wearing panties or I woulda tore my clothes off and dived right in. Again, so close.

Speaking of…

As we were driving, I started telling Mandy the story of Mister, and it started a little something like this.

I had a broken car. Mister found me a mechanic, picked me up, took me to get a birthday cake for Lucifer Luu (a girl I worked with) and got me home. Pretty knight in ‘shining’ armor if you ask me.

He then fetched me the next day with coffee and we went for a drive to get the part I needed. He drove this big fuck off diesel pick up that made that amazing rumbling noise that gets me a lil wet, not gonna lie. It was one of the first nice days we had on the rock, I was in a t-shirt and jeans, sipping coffee (he remembered how I take mine, bless him) smoking a Marlboro, country music playing, driving with the windows down and I laughed.

He asked what was funny and I replied “Nothing at all, I am just perfectly happy in this moment.”

And I really was.

“Cute man/boy, big pick up, back roads and country music, good company, good coffee and in this exact moment everything is just fine.”

He smiled so big his eyes crinkled up at the corners.

He thought that was really cool. He thought every fucking thing I did was so fucking cool. Not only did he tell me with sparkles in his eyes and sheer reverence in his voice, he took photos. Wrangling his big dogs and getting them to heel and listen. Walking barefoot everywhere. The way I fuck, the way I look, the way I touch and talk.

I do love when I can be IN those moments.

She said “it’s so cool you can do that.” So we spent the rest of the day doing exactly that, enjoying the moment. Floating, jumping, sunbathing, chatting, making fun of the white kids down the way trying to rap and getting serenaded by so many cicadas.

She asked me to finish the story of Mister on the drive home and I sucked my teeth and chuckled in a cynical way that made her go “Uh oh.”

Ya, uh oh.

I don’t want to go through it yet one more time. I already said it once today. And ya Brandon, I cried.
Every time I scroll through my phone looking for this or that I am reminded of what he said and did…and worse, how I felt. I thought…ha, how many times have I ‘thought’ something that turned out to be bullshit. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I had to go back to that island because there was a man/boy there who thought I was made out of magic. I remember sighing this deep sigh of fucking relief and thinking, “okay, there it is.”

There it wasn’t.

The kicker is, I am made out of magic. I forgot and he reminded me, and I haven’t forgotten since.

So he did serve a purpose, all of it did. All the things I ought not to do. Waiting is on the list, I think it is the list.

Giant said he was sooooooo looking forward to me coming home and stopped messaging me 6 weeks before I got here.
I messaged him a happy birthday and he invited me over.
I am not going over there.
The Last One must have some kind of homing beacon, he messaged my first night home. At least he has some sense of self awareness and said “I know I wasn’t very good to you and you deserved so much more.” No apology, but that’ll do Donkey, that’ll do.
And no we aren’t having lunch.
Hulk wanted me to fly to BC and see him, but something came up, something important to me and I have to see it through.

Not a boy this time, a job. Something I really want.

I had a lot of isolated joyful moments out on that island. Sometimes alone or with the girls. Sometimes at work, the night Smiley and friends came by and treated me like a princess. The night I found the biker with anxiety and we hid in the corner until it was time to leave. The other time I babysat one of the seadoo boys because we were both overwhelmed with the masses out on George Street for the festival. Midnight drive with the Nope. Stolen kisses here and there. Miracle Mondays where me and Tina 2 (now 3) Chains made over a grand. Girls chilling in my clean bedroom, finding time to write, feeding my coworkers and listening to the silence because they loved what I fed them too much to talk.

There IS magic in the little things, and me.

Thanks Mister.

I started today like I start most days. Hit the ‘memories’ option upon ye olde Facebook and go meme hunting for stuff to post on my page. I tend to stop rolling back around 2010 or so, there are no memes beyond that point, and a lot of me blowing sunshine or bitching about farm life.
Fuck I tried to make that look so much prettier than it was, until I didn’t. I was a vicious little cunt at certain points and all of it makes me cringe.

I hate to admit, but I have backslid to some semblance of that girl in the last 6 months. I saw it and I couldn’t necessarily stop it.

But now I have people bashing the place I used to live and I see what I did there.

It was exactly like the moment when I went back to farm hubby one more time and my friend Anna threw up her hands and disowned me forever.
I had never told her one good thing about him. She didn’t understand, how could she?

Scrolling through my memories this very morning, I was given the information that in about a week it will be the 7th anniversary of when I was forcibly liberated from the farm…for the last time.
There was beard ripping and camera smashing and I never went back inside the house after my things were out.
I did end up at the end of the driveway once, holding ex hubby while he sobbed realizing what (he thought) he lost.
I will always be that girl who forgives and kinda basks in the moment they realize what I am, even if it is beyond too late.
I think I did the same thing with Nfld as I did at the farm. Only posted the bad things.
There was a lot of Good.
I had the money to leave that island months ago, and I stayed because I wanted to.
I didn’t get what I wanted exactly. But I wanted the wrong things.
There was honey.

My horoscope a few weeks ago said “Make do with bread and butter until god gives you honey.”

I can’t shake the idea that I was starving myself, waiting for honey. And it did come. But my whole mindset out there was wrong,

I wasn’t there for me you see.

This is going to come out messy. I am rusty. Probably wrote what, like 6 articles in 6 months? Not like me at all. And now my hands are aching to type and I have no time because I have to put my life back together out of boxes and memories.

I have a whole hour because I couldn’t read the time properly on my phone with my blurry morning eyes and thought it was 8. It was 6.

Maybe I am still on that other time zone. My computer is, haven’t changed it. Tiny time warps in my tiny room.

I have an hour.

What do I write about?

I Can’t Believe it’s Not Butter?

198 days

The Long Drive Home

The Last One for the Last Time

Fuck, I don’t even know. So much has happened in a relatively short period of time. I scroll back through my photos and it is the most bizarre thing. So many definitive chapters. This is when he was here, or that one, or those girls were visiting, or Sexy Giraffe was around. There were whales.

I did have an epiphany yesterday sitting in a parking lot in the Hammer, waiting for a song to finish so I could go get my girls a “big bottle of something red and cab savvy” at the lick bo. I was at my worst in Newfoundland, and they all loved me anyways. I have never been so forgiven for all my shortcomings in my life.

My buddy Andrew, who is part of the reason I ended up on that rock in the first place, said

“That’s what I miss the most about St. John’s. Absolutely zero next-day drinker’s remorse, because no matter how bad I got I was NEVER even close to the most fucked up person in the room.
Well, that and how everyone gets bored and fucks everyone else”

I was the worst one in the room a few times, not gonna lie. But I was still forgiven. For sleeping in a pile of blankets when I ought to have been working. When rivers of tears ran down my face like a dam just broke and there was no way to stop them. “How bad do I look right now?” Tina 3 Chains would always tell me the truth. “You came downstairs without a stitch of make up on.”

Its things like that, the evolution of Tina from one chain to 3. The fact that she trusted me with her mother’s ring even though I was a hot mess often.

The evolution of me from hiding in room 1 from Stompy nursing a bruised tailbone and a broken heart. Moving up to 4, having responsibilities and all the keys, and still a busted heart. The comings and goings of girls I just met and loved, girl I knew and didn’t care for, this one leaving that one coming back. It was like summer camp, I just stayed.

There was the realization that my son was grown and didn’t need me anymore do for the first time in over half my life I only had me to look after and I had NO idea how to do that.

There was the Creep chapter. Followed by the Nope…then a good break and Mister showed up. Then the Viking for a minute. With the exception of Nope whose dog I never met, I realized I was more enamoured with the puppers than the men themselves. Almost true.

The realization that I am a horrible hustler and all I did was sit at the bar and wait for something to happen and poured whisky on everything.

There was the moment when I had driven 9 hours to the west side of the island and gotten queued up for the ferry and a big black pick up pulled in behind me and I couldn’t help but keen and wail and the nice Newfie in the SUV ahead of me gave me a Tim Hortons cup with a healthy swig of Jack Daniels so I could calm down enough to go get my pajamas on and wait for the boat to take me away.

There was 2 more days of driving where I saw clearly everything I did wrong and realized, I burned no bridges out there, they are fireproof, almost. That I was loved unconditionally and yes, there was honey.

Okay squirrels, time to rally.

I’ve been exploring old playlists from when I lived in Milton. Mentioned it to kiddo and he said simply “send them”.

It remains our happiest of places.

I was the most content I’ve ever been there in the summertime. Hummingbirds, laying naked on the porch to dry off after all showers. Collecting rainwater to wash my hair. I started this blog there. Had lovely lovers. Had more than enough room for wayward souls to stay until it was time to go again, and I remained. Queen of the castle, on land that was never mine, but that was okay. All the space and half the responsibilities.

I became single and in being alone, found myself again. Stopped compromising the bits of joy I found for anyone or anything. Realized life is just a string of wonderful moments sprinkled liberally throughout the daily routine of living.

Winters were tough but I felt so fucking accomplished surviving each one. I endured, and began to love prolonged bouts of solitude. I learned to quiet my mind. I realized no one was coming to rescue me and that is okay too.

So where the fuck did I put that girl?

She is welcome back any fucking time now.

I miss her strength and purpose.

I regressed too far.

I told my first lie since 2011, and it was a thundercunt move, a really big bad.

As an intro to a 1300 word apology I listed off what I had endured since I got here, 5 months ago.
Not as an excuse, but an introduction to my headspace.

I have not been myself since I got here. Every day I question why I came at all. I don’t feel like I have anywhere to return to and occasionally I am gifted small joys in the form of boys or a good night or a visit from friends, but most of the time I am feeling really dark, beaten down and frustrated.

I have been/worked through a bruised tailbone, a miscarriage, and evil death 6 week cold and now a broken toe (day 42).

I have been through Hurricane Stompy, Crazy and Manipulation. (Girls I work with)

And the boy I came here for loves to pop into the bar and not talk to me after filling my head with sunshine about getting a place together, meeting his mom etc. all while his ex-girlfriend stalks and harasses me in no semblance of pattern that I can figure out.

I survived the Mega Creeper, the Nope and now Mister loving me, then leaving me, then rubbing my nose in it.

I have boys from home calling me home and then disappearing too.

I have been drinking an excessive amount and I am scaring myself. My behavior has been abhorrent. I keep fucking everything up. I can’t find my feet and I keep stumbling. And I don’t know what to do.

Seeing it all laid out like that scared the shit out of me.

It’s all drudgery, peppered with putting out fires and being let down over and over.

There are bits of joy, but they leave me as quickly as they came. I miss my girls. I miss my Zen, my mojo and my majicks.

We are heading out of Cancer and into Leo. I would rather being roaring than crying. It’s time.

We are smack dab in the middle of eclipse season and for people like me, it means the truth is coming, I can see behind all the things.

The Lion’s Gate is about to open and I am so pleased.

I have a trunk in my room filled with the belongings of girls who are all set to return soon.

I keep getting my hopes up thinking, okay maybe this is why I came here. Whatever the ‘this’ of the moment seems to be.
A big bad one in particular that I do not wish to speak of right now. I am scared of how angry I am.

Once upon a time I was super-mega ultra-angry at a boy for being a fuckwit and hurting me and I let out a righteous shriek of mad into the ether. He called me 5 minutes later to tell me someone had just smashed the window on his truck…500 km away in Montreal.
So since then I have tried to keep my fury contained.
It’s really fucking hard today.

I am the thing they held sacred, and dropped*.

And I am not holding myself sacred. I know this.

Today I wished for clarity. Give me a shove towards what is best for me, and make it a good push, I am so damned stubborn.

(*Audioslave)

Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme, Sarah is crying on the green couch over a boy again.

I know that’s not how it goes. But I did wake up at 9 yesterday morning (still drunk) and my eyes were swollen from bawling. I blacked out and woke up, not in my bed, but in Sexy Giraffe’s room, where I was supposed to be, but with no idea how I got there.

We had a pact not to drink but the H.A showed up and ya, whiskey whiskey whiskey.

They were throwing me money to sit and drink with them, I ended up leaving early. My last clear memory sitting on the stoop with my friend Adam wiping tears from my cheeks telling me I am too beautiful to be crying over a boy.

And yet, here we are.

I wasn’t going to write about him. I was going to keep him to myself and just enjoy.
But then…he bailed and it hurt.

My psychic witch girl from North Carolina sent me a Taylor Swift video that night.

I know she knows all and sees all but every once in a while she hits me with some truth and I get shook.

I was scrolling through messages trying to put the night back together and saw it.

You see me in hindsight
Tangled up with you all night
Burn it down
Some day when you leave me
I bet these memories follow you around

Oh Tay Tay, how did you become my spirit guide? I’d rather be Miley, come in like a wrecking ball and end up in Malibu.

You would explain the current, as I just smile
Hoping I just stay the same and nothing will change
And it’ll be us, just for a while

I will never understand why boys and men get so fucking excited about me and then run.

You are going to regret this, ask the others.

Talk to the Hulk and the Giant. Ask the Last One.

Listen to the ones from high school who still beg for a second chance.

On a long enough timeline they all come back.

There is a line from the movie Lost Boys I quote often when this kind of thing happens, and the irony is not lost…puns intentional…”they pulled a mind fuck on us and talked.”

He rescued me when my car broke down. He played tour guide and host to my dear friend Valkyrie. We hiked to the Grebe’s Nest on Bell Island and he had an epic hangover, but pushed through. He bought her a lobster. Took me to the Keg and introduced me to his friends. We took it slow and easy.

Said he loved how it felt when I touched him. Called me his porn star in the morning after fetching me coffee, letting me drink it and then fucking me one more time before he took me home.
Then he bailed.

He looked me dead in the face and said he really liked me.
Asked if I had a passport.
Said he wanted to keep me.
Called me magic with reverence in his voice.
Had my number saved in his phone as “The Good Witch.”
Took pics of my footprints on the beach and me walking his doggos.

Now this … nothingness.

He didn’t have to say any of that, I knew what it was.

Dirty pillow talk.

The extra fucky part is that I knew what he was when I found him and I let him grow on me. He did step up. He did follow through, until I fucked him.

THAT WASN’T SEX. THAT WAS WORSHIP.

So, ya, this is hurting way more than it should.
Been down this road so many times they named it after me.

He had plans to leave this place. I wasn’t going to get in the way. I don’t want to be here anymore either.

As close as we can figure, he caught feelings too, at an inconvenient time. But the timing is never perfect. Or he is a fuckboi of epic proportions. Probably a little from column A, and a little from column B. I told him he was Peter Pan.

He was a want and not a need. I suppose that is terrifying unto itself.

I’ll live.

Yet another conversation with Less Drunk Josh.

Me: Was that your woman on stage last night?

LDJ: Pffft, no. I don’t want a girlfriend, its sun dress season.

Brilliant point LDJ.

We had a civilian on stage and she got pretty close to being naked, someone tried to blame Josh, probably because he wasn’t there. Lot of that going on lately.

It is sun dress season and Gemini season and there has been a steady stream of drunken birthday parties rolling through the club. Including my own. That was a good day. All my pretty boys popped in to say hello, hug me and buy me a whiskey. Extra Drunk Josh stayed up an extra day partying just to come see me which was both sweet and awful. I worry about that one.

Wait, back up, it is supposed to be sun dress season but summer has come very late to this little island in the middle of the ocean. It is cold, wet and rainy today, the rest of the week looks better but…I have seen clouds rolling down the hill and up the street, like literal fallen clouds, and snow one minute sunshine the next. Driven from one side of town to the other and experienced a 10 degree temperature difference. I told you this place is fucky.

It is not like home. I grew up on Lake Huron.

I could look at the lake, sunrises and sunsets, read the clouds and tell you what time it was and what the weather was going to be like for the next few days. I used to love sitting on the beach and watching the storms come in. I am one who dances in the summer rain.

I grew up in a cottage town and deliberately stayed single in the summer months. Semi single anyways. Some cute boy from away, no strings… just bonfires, ice cream, skinny dipping and a boat load of sex on the beach or wherever we ended up, sometimes on a boat.

2 years ago, on this very day of our lord June the nineteenth, I was single as fuck and I posted to Facebook
“I want a summer fling or 3.”
Because I did.
The next day Panda and I wandered down to Burlington for our very first beach day. The sun was blazing and the water frigid, but it was bliss. I swam anyways.
We were just getting ready to pack up and leave and 2 beautiful boys put down a blanket and cooler 10 feet away and started chatting us up.
They invited us over for a barbecue and the one I wanted, wanted me back.
Panda wasn’t so lucky, hers was a true blue fuckboi who acted like those of his tribe.
Mine turned out to be consistent, which I am realizing is so very rare.
And for the next 7 weeks I had lots of sex, dinners and late night swims with a beautiful huge tattooed British ginger Scorpio MMA fighter.
He disappeared when the Lion’s Gate opened. But Damn that was fun while it lasted.

Hey universe…
Again?
Also, can you please turn up the heat a bit, all I have here are dresses, dresses and more dresses and I REALLY want to wear them.

I tend to get restless in the summer months if I am locked into a relationship. Loyal yet twitchy. Last summer I was in a monogamous relationship and it was actually great, until it wasn’t. He didn’t make it past the Lion’s Gate either.

I saw this the other day upon the Facebook.

I giggled a bit.

Situationships. Yep. Exactly this, yes please.

No confusion here, for me anyways. Freedom, free will and comfort. These are my favorites, real feelings and no labels or drama. Just be with me and be happy. Have as much sex as possible, occasional adventures and no stress. Then when we’re done, we’re done. No hard feelings.

So what if I am regressing to high school summer days back home?

Those were the good days, and some seriously sex-filled amazing nights.

When you broke down I didn’t leave ya
I was by your side
So where are you now that I need you?

I have a soft spot for the Biebs. Takes me back to a few summers ago, driving with Ishtra, windows down and happy going nowhere, everywhere, just enjoying being together, this song on repeat.

I have spent the bulk of this morning working on work emails, making schedules, confirming dates and times. I have been given as much responsibility as any stripper ever has been. It’s weird and I kinda like it. 27/29 strippers are on board.

Things got fucky, what else is new?

I’m having anxiety about things falling back into old patterns while I am away. Leaving a mess for me to clean up when I return.

I have 7 weeks left here and nothing went as I had hoped and planned it would.

Things just kept getting weirder and weirder.

Soon it will be time to fly from yet another nest I have made for myself and I am not sure if I want to go.

I am needed here, useful, and as Keri puts it “you look after us girls, we are lucky to have you. And these boys here gravitate to you, they really love you, I have never seen anything like it.”

About 20 minutes after she said it, Very Drunk Josh came into the bar, after a 10 day absence. Didn’t say a word, just picked me up into one of those full body hugs that took my feet up off the floor, and he didn’t let go for a full minute.

We will never be more than friends, but it made me realize how badly I needed some good touch.

Lead us not into temptation. Drunk Josh is not tempting.

But there is temptation. That grass over there is pretty fucking green.

I also spent last night happy as fuck because, for once, things were going smoothly at work and I had something to do with it.

Well, smooth till they got bumpy.

Lil speed bump. No big thing.

My sweet Baboo (sorry Scottie, I can’t think of another nickname) came in, said hi and then told me he was here to see another girl.
Yay sweet Baboo, oh wait…her? Fuck, you best not be seen talking to me then.

She is one of the 2/27 who are not on board with me scheduling/existing in general.

I backed all the way off. Sent him a snap urging caution and distance, stayed away for the night, then I gathered my girls and went home.

We snapped until 4am, me trying to convince him it was okay, I understood, it was my choice to exit stage left and the last thing he said was it wasn’t worth having her if it meant losing me as a friend.

My heart melted a bit, not gonna lie.

I am usually his wingman and the only way I could’ve helped him was to stay away.

This has happened before.

My ability to see and act for the greater good is troublesome, but it’s in my marrow.

I gave you the key when the door wasn’t open
Just admit it

Someone very important to me, from my past, is recently single.

I think I might be the only one of his friends who knows this.

I am both honored and terrified.

I said to him today, “I never asked about what was going on with us because
a) I knew the answer
and
b) if you didn’t say it, I could pretend it wasn’t over.”

See yesterday’s post about Facebook memories and me having a history of being a silly lovesick girl.

My idea of romance and relationships hasn’t progressed past high school I suppose.

I kinda like it this way. Mind you, it is the only way I’ve ever known. Familiarity breeds comfort where there would otherwise be none. And I am not feeling overly comfortable just now.

I know the trauma that occurred way back when that continues to dictate my behavior. And I haven’t the slightest clue what to do about.

I loved someone who was incapable of loving me back. And when he did come to love me he never showed it, not till years later, from a galaxy far, far away. And I took this as love and romantic. It really wasn’t.

He who caused the trauma in high school is also recently single and everybody knows and he demanded that I come out and give it a shot.

It’s not that I can’t. I just won’t.

A few years ago I would have. But, we aren’t in the same place in our lives any more. I have raised my children. I want adventure time and copious amounts of sex and movies and snuggles and bonfires. I don’t even know how to be a girlfriend anymore, I can be faithful and cook for you but the title isn’t important like it used to be. I just want to be happy.

As for the other one. I once survived being his rebound and that is what terrifies me. I can’t live through that again.

I mean I can, but do I want to.

On a long enough timeline, they always come back.

Every

Single

One,

Without fail.

Which begs the question Justin Bieber asks “Where are you now that I need you?”

I can guarantee I was on my knees when nobody else was prayin’, oh lord.

I spend a lot of time on my knees.

Humbled.

Penitent.

Sacrifice.

Greater good.

I have friends here that don’t leave me even when they should.

I have purpose.

Geographically I am in the future, as far as time zones go. If I go west I will be traveling into the past both literally and emotionally.

The events of the last few days have made me feel like maybe I should stick around longer.

I guess it’s going to come down to who needs me the most.

(all italics from Where are You Now, Justin Bieber, Skrillex and Jack U)

The wind is howling and I think I saw snowflakes. I wish I could go back to sleep, but the siren song of coffee was too strong. Just like the wind. If I was a bad witch I would be scared right around now. But as it stands I am just awake and hoping that these are the winds of change a blowin”. Things aren’t bad, but they could be better.

I feel like something good is coming. Bring it.

Once up a time in the land of Facebook some idiot employee had the lovely idea to generate Facebook memories.

What a lovely way to start my day, scrolling through my own stupidity and seeing pictures of that cat that got eaten by an owl. I am so sorry Lila Moo Spagooter, but you loved being outside, I couldn’t bear keeping you in.

Lost 2 cats to that owl that year, then I moved.

Seeing how happy I was in Milton, old videos of me and Panda having belly laughs in the change room at work…those things I like.

I love watching myself evolve year after year especially after my emancipation from the idea that I could only find my identity through the reflection of whatever man I was with.

I see Nina Nine Times and other pets and people I have loved and still do.

Cute outfits that I regret donating when I had to downsize.

But there is an ugly side to that coin.

Hindsight is not only 20/20, it’s a fucking bitch.

I was always pretending I was so happy about the overwhelming amount of busy bullshit work I was constantly doing at the farm. I swear to see pictures of me from back then, I look ten years older than I do now. Tired from getting ground down and keeping up appearances. Living a lie.

Now, I am unapologetically me. Except when I fuck everything up, then I apologize and I mean it.

I am sorry things got so fucked up.

I wear my happiness like well applied make up, I swear.

The memories of summer months are a little easier to swallow I am a sunshine fueled water baby so my happiness is prevalent and it shows. But there are a few exceptions.

Twice in 2 years the Poet surfaced briefly, during Gemini season.

I am beyond disgusted with my fangirlyness. Just ew.

I truly feel like some days I am watching the story of a stranger who used my hands to type this drivel about the ultimate ghost.

Like a horror movie where the white girl does the dumbest shit, and probably dies at the end, badly, and the whole time you’re thinking “Nah, sis, just no. Do not go into that haunted fucking house.”

She did die. I let her.

Whatever version of me that was, nope nuh uh. I do not acknowledge her stupidity and blindness. Thankfully it was fleeting, but I got so caught up in his web of lies. Apex predator I suppose, with a devil’s grin and a poet’s mouth. Too bad they were just masking a master fuckboy in disguise.

I survived, and now i nothing him. No love, no hate, just nothing.

Which brings me to the present. What revelations am I going to have after this year has passed? What kind of memories am I leaving for myself on my pilgrimage to this island of misfit toys, fuck boys, epic liars and time wasters?

What truths are going to reveal themselves and cause me to chuckle at the girl who was once again a puddle on the floor a week ago? I would like to state for the record, as I slid down the locker and landed on my ass, unable to hold myself up or the tears in I was instantaneously surrounded by a bunch of sweet strippers trying to help, and lord bless ‘em, they helped.

I did pull myself together in record time.

Maybe that is the lesson, I will always be the girl who falls fast, but I am learning to bounce back faster.

I’m after being let down more than I am used to on this trip. And that was a fucking lot.

These boys with honey on their lips and sparks in their eyes coming at me like moths to a flame, just to wander off and never to be heard from again.

For the record if you don’t talk to me for a few days after being all I excited about the fact that I exist and am paying attention to you…I already know where this is going. Nowhere.

Your loss really, I give spectacular attention.

I’m starting to find it comical, after all I am the girl who introduced herself to the Nope’s friends as the flavour of the month, and I was not even close to being wrong. A lunar month to the day.

“We need some stability around here.” The Color Purple

Nah, I’m fine, fuckboy fuckery has turned into a hobby, like a bad reality tv show I watch from a distance. This trip has become a social experiment conducted from behind these really high walls I had to build to be here.

Wonder how long this one is gonna last?

I don’t actually give a fuck anymore, not that I ever did, that isn’t why I am here.

My last fuck has blown away with the wind.