Effort = Reward

Not hurt, just irritated. Just did what I said he was gonna do. Heaven forbid I ever get to be wrong.

I sat in my tiny little strip club by the sea on Saturday night, cards in hand, watching Tina laughing and winning. Whiskey in my sippy cup but still sober and being stubborn about it. My Josh and Stacey home from forever away and life was good for minute or two.
Three girls who had previously been angry with me over varying things were suddenly making small talk and being nice again, and I was happy.
Peace is good, I like peace.

I actually stated out loud “I think this is the first time since I have been here where no one is mad at me.”

It was time for a change.

The only constant is change. Even when it feels like you are doing the same thing over and over, there are subtle differences if you look close enough.

Especially when you feel the change as it’s happening and have to wait for the truth to catch up.

Woke up this morning, had my coffee and my smoke on the couch, looked out the window like I have every other morning and lo, upon the bare branches of yesterday, there were green buds. The leaves are coming.

I struggled my first month here. The weather was shit the money was shit and I felt like shit.

Second month got better.

Now I am a good way through the third. And I feel like that, tenacious green where there was only grey before. Blooming in spite of myself. Predicting the future. You know, the usual.

Once upon a time I met my first real fuckboi. Named him Wolfling, he growled a lot and looked like Logan/Wolverine, but the youngling version. He was my first bag of frozen peas experience in many, many, many moons and I found myself craving him in spite of myself.

That was 4 years ago. He saw me last year at a bar, right around now if memory serves and immediately blew up my phone with the howl of the fuckboi. You are so beautiful, wyd, wanna come over and hang out, do you remember where I live.

Of course I remember and no I am not coming over.

He was the one who forgot everything, what I look like and what my mouth do. Seeing me triggered his memories of how sweet I can be.
It happens often.

Shouldn’t have forgotten in the first place.

I remember everything and I delete nothing. Scrolling back after those  texts I saw the pattern. Clusters of messages and “good morning/good night beautiful” texts that became increasingly spaced out. Every few days, begat every few weeks, to every few months then nothing for a year.

He broke a few dates and I let him.

Don’t let them.

WHAT WE TOLERATE IS WHAT WE RECEIVE.

Wolfling was a gateway douchebag. I know that now.

There have been others.

They all bring lessons.

I am learning.

Effort versus reward.

When the effort stops and becomes excuses, is when I leave.

Row, row, row your boat the fuck away from me.

Predicting the future doesn’t take the sting out of it, just gives me a few extra days to process what’s happening.

I called it when I called myself flavor of the month.

It’s been a calendar month. I realized that when I was counting my days off, the one fucking day I get a week and the dangling carrot that was no longer there.

Tiny crushes and bullets dodged. He has now fully earned his nickname and I have yet to be proven wrong.

I’m not broken, the situation is.

3 years ago I left future me a message upon the Facebook…

“Tom Waits and Elsa are performing a rather interesting mash up of Hold On and Let it Go in my head.”

Followed by “If something seems to good to be true, it’s Satan in a Sunday hat.”

Ima be Elsa.

Not today Satan, not today.