Dodging Bullets in Wonderland (and that thing I saw on Pornhub)

I watched an episode of Cheaters a thousand years ago.

Narrator: She watched A LOT of episodes of Cheaters back in the day.

Ya, ya, I did. Back in the day when I found really basic shit entertaining. Like Maury and Jerry. But anyways, this one episode featured a really cute little young, alt couple. She had green hair, I remember, they were both skinny and had collections of bad tattoos and worked minimum wage jobs, probably left home young, smoked a lot of pot and drank a lot of coffee while smoking unfiltered cigarettes listening to indie music. They’d have been typical hipsters had it been now, but this was then.

Long story fairly short, boy thought girl was cheating. Survey and surveillance said yes indeed she was. And when the grand finale confrontation happened she was tied to a canopy bed, surrounded by a bunch of kids in hard hats and reflective vests and not much else, with a dildo barely blurred on the bed. Boy ran and covered her up, untied her while the cameras rolled on and the conversation went something like this…

Girl: What was I supposed to say? “I want you to dress up like a construction worker and fuck me in the ass?”

Boy: Well, ya.

She cried tears of relief, they hugged and I swear to god, I think they made it.

That’s the problem with being relatively single and just dating casually. Never get a chance to build up that trust or get bored enough to experiment much. 3rd date is a little too early to say ‘hey, do this fairly kinky thing to me, I saw it on Pornhub and I wanna try it.’

I really do want to try that thing. Can’t get past the 3rd date.

None of this is neither here nor there. Once again it’s been over a week since I wrote anything. There was a super full wolf blood moon eclipse yesterday and shit got weird. Nothing to do with the moon, shit is always weird here. Especially on Thursdays apparently.

It was a weird week in general, things happened that I can’t speak about but my hopes were less than zero, so that was fine. Just tryna get through another wintery week of doom.
Cue ‘some dude walks into the bar’, asks for me by name, I recognize him, ya we met before, said we might go out, never happened.
Surprise!

What would have been weird is if we actually did go out, but alas.
I think I might be dead and all I see are ghosts. Some prettier than others.

Also neither here nor there, except when the Thursday dude bought way too many rounds for all the girls at the bar at 7:30 which caused Havoc and Mayhem, then pulled me aside in the middle of me being sober and trying to keep everything from exploding

(Narrator: She did NOT keep everything from exploding)

and said “I know that blog post was about me.”

Wait, what?

“What manner of man is this?” (Bram Stoker’s Dracula)

Like seriously? We met once and got drunk. Not blog worthy, until this next level narcissistic shit.

Nope, nuh uh. Not you. Hadn’t thought about you in a really long time, like 5 to 10 minutes after you left last time. And then the fat man to that little boy of a bomb, “(Stalker) Sarah and I were talking about it.”

Wait…what?

I laughed.

Then he got a handful of messages from her (which I was shown) and from some girlfriend he failed to mention (you left your phone open on the bar) and I wandered off. Dodging bullets like Neo in the Matrix after following the white rabbit into Wonderland. Stupid rabbit. Tricks and kids.

How is this still a thing? sis, STAHHHHHHHP.

Said blog post could have been about anyone. He never did mention which exact post it was. Probably one about Dear John (most likely, something about here and away), or maybe the Lovely One.
Could have even been the Last One, he still messages from time to time, or He Who Shall Not Be Named, not The Boy, I don’t write about THAT anymore…there is another that is just my not so little secret.

THAT is done.

Much to the chagrin of a few overly romantic folks who really wanted THAT to work out. And there was a time that I did too. But reality kicked in and his ex is still stalking me and according to him I have 30 boyfriends, which actually equals 2 dick appointments, of which he is neither, who are aware that there are others.

(find the others)

I need to find the others. Or I need to shut up and wait. Who knows what I need. According to Google a search for “Sarah Needs” comes up a blog post I wrote called exactly that, or in the quick search
1. Love
and
2. Batteries,
in that order.
Sounds about right.

Other Sarah needs a hobby or a job with the FBI. Adopt some cats and knit them sweaters, just keep my name out of your fucking mouth child.

What I need is someone I can trust and on this tiny island of gossip and craziness, that doesn’t happen much. I did let my guard all the way down with the Lovely One and did a quadruple shot of whiskey before we left the bar, which culminated in me telling him he was ‘so pretty’ a hundred times if once (he really is pretty, his mom said so too.) Normally righteously wasted me wants to go home and curl up in a ball, but I curled up next to him instead, and it was good amen.

I wandered into the last couple weeks with this feeling of “something is gonna give”. So I sat back and waited. Lo and behold it was me. I stopped doing some of the self destructive shit I did, traded it in for even more destructive self destructive shit. And there was a great kaboom and it was good.

I am feeling more optimistic than I have in a long time. Change is coming, I think sometime in March or April. But in the meantime, I am having belly laughs and grinning like a Cheshire cat instead of bitching and crying like Alice. I might yet get to try that thing I saw on Pornhub.

And I don’t have to dodge bullets.