Call of Booty

High de ho.

Holy shit, yet another long minute since I have been here.

I miss this. I do. I feel like I am doing myself a disservice, how am I supposed to remember if I don’t write things down?

The trek up the hill after a massive blizzard, 200 feet of 2 foot drifts to crash on a couch in a deserted empty house in the woods. Worth it though. Mostly.
The cock blocking staff party well after I had given up.
The continuation of giving up. Letting go and letting God. Not despair, just a shrugging of shoulders. It is what it is.
The worst idea I have ever had, which is what this is going to end up being about.

It took me forever to log into my account. 5 reset passwords and a forgotten username.

I miss my laptop, prior to the shittiest Windows update ever, the great crash of October 2018. She now has dementia. Takes forever to do things, has forgotten and forsaken me. In an added note of hilarity, I decided, while waiting to log in yet again, to put pen to paper. Threw out 5 pens. I don’t love the one that worked, heavy and clunky with no smoothness to it. But it worked. Everything is a metaphor. And god might be trying to tell me something.

I am, at my best, a bad listener. I ask for signs, the misinterpret them on purpose to suit myself. And look where that got me. 3000 km from home on some drunken promises that were forgotten by morning. But not by me.

So here I am.

I do what I can with what I have where I is.

A year ago today I announced my intention to move here after sitting on the idea for 6 weeks.

I rarely keep quiet that long, but if I check the dates, probably been that long since I wrote something here. Still, not like me at all. I think I am changing again. I would like to keep the writing, and the page. These are good things. My optimism can return any time now. Libido too.
My patience is waning. My innate desire and compulsion to contribute to the happiness of others can fuck right off.

I have to leave for work in 2 hours, totally forgot about that as I was attempting to get in here. I fell asleep in my clothes, it’s hair washing day. Had 2 girls cancel and Brian is sick. I have no choice at this point. Better to save my days off, I think something good is coming.

I have hit this level somewhere past hand shy though. It scares me a bit.

Let down after let down after let down.

I took to covering his mouth when he’d promise tomorrow, or anything at all really. Didn’t change anything. But my superstitions are hard to let go of. They are bred in my bones.

I heard and old Russian proverb. Pray to God, but row to shore.

Praying isn’t enough, heaven knows I tried.

When I went back to Ontario I decided to appease the gods. No use praying for sex and turning it down when it presents itself, I shall not squander the gifts I have been given. I saw the Giant. And it was good, amen.

I thought it had started a trend. I had an amazing date/week with a wonderful man, who sadly lives 19 hours away. I miss him. Funny story. When we finally got around to having sex (half a dozen times) every time he would leave the room, I could hear my pussy whispering “come back now please”. She’s still doing it, just more of a shout now.

I waited for another to come back from away, but it didn’t go well. Too bad, he was lovely too.

And then…

Oh and then…

I was talking to Biker Body Pillow last night (we both had Christmas booty calls that didn’t follow through and were both irritated at best)
I wrote a brief point form list of all the reasons my bc was a bad idea,
He’s rude
Inconsistent
We bicker when we’re fucking
Probably slept with half the strippers on the island
and a whole lot more I cannot go into
Blah blah blah
then stated, “but, vagina likes him”.

BBP in his glorious wisdom and blessing/curse of always telling the truth said

“Dude you sure it’s your vag that likes him and not your constant need for self destruction?”

To which I replied “No, I am not even remotely sure, in fact I think that’s it.”

Last night was the 4th attempt at said booty call. 1 outta 4 is not great odds. 25%. If I only did 25% of my work, or only showed up for one shift in 4, I’d be fired.

So that’s it then.

Time to realize some people ain’t worth my time at all.

And maybe quash that need for self destruction.