Sticking Your Dick in Crazy

I have many a man friend back home and 90% of them, at one point have stuck their dick in crazy. My job is to handle the fallout.

Tend to the wounded.

Sometimes they do it a few times before they realize yes, the stove is hot and you will get burned and all the hot sex in the world isn’t worth their sanity. Then they do it a few more times.

I get it to a degree. I myself, was once crazy. Mistaking possessiveness and jealousy for love. Being a sneaky little twat was my whole wheelhouse, it’s all I knew. Got over it after high school, then back slid like a motherfucker years later when I was married. All my old CSI training and nagging and manipulating came back harder and better.

Mind you he was cheating and lying about it the whole time, but I chose to stay even though I knew what was happening beyond all doubt, that’s on me.

Drama can be addicting when you don’t know better, there’s the adrenaline rush from fight or flight. Jealousy can feel like love if you don’t know what love is.

I didn’t know love back then. Now I do, and I wouldn’t trade its calm acceptance for anything.

I will never again be with someone who makes me that fucking crazy.

I am not that girl anymore. I kept a few pieces though, she’s now my inner bitch and on occasion she is absolutely necessary, she’s well trained in the art of war now. Especially when it comes to him, I am protective, not possessive.

I am something to behold when I am angry.

I was using my powers for evil. I see that now.

These days I reside in the lovely balance between do no harm and take no shit.

I am not saying I am sane, how could I be, I am here.

Since I got here my guard was way down and I got sucked into some crazy shit without even realizing it.

People pretending to be someone or something they are not and I was too sad to notice.

Holding on hope is exhausting.

I actually feel kinda bad for these girls who think drama is a hobby. Like no sis. Read a book, knit something, figure yourself out. It’s pretty smooth sailing on this side of things. Try it, you might like it.

I got  hit with a hurricane of batshit insane.

The weather and the women here are fucked the fuck up.

I came back to this island for a few reasons. 75% the boy, plus the ocean, the money, a fresh start and I must say, I love how most of the men out here behave.

There is something about the way the women raise their sons on this island.

I hear stories from a lot of men about how close they are with their mamas and it warms my heart. These mamas are ferociously protective and take absolutely no shit.

The result is these grown men with manners and chivalry bred in the bone.

The girls here though…

What in the actual fuck.

It’s an island full of fucking harpies. Except I don’t want to insult harpies.

They have teeth and claws and I swear the boys pay all their bills so they have nothing to do all day but sharpen them and stick them where they don’t belong, into the hearts of these good men.

Do y’all not know what love is?

Love is not stealing paycheques and passwords. Its actually giving a fuck about your man beyond what he can do for you.

Love is calm and supportive and being a safe place. Not batshit choo choo crazy train.

The motto out here seems to be a perverted version of stand by your man. It’s a fucking abomination.

Stand by him unless he’s out of town and then suck as many dicks as you can or until you find one with more money.

I can’t swing my purse on George Street without hitting 5 guys his missus has fucked, and it’s not a big purse. And he still stays with her.

I don’t get it.

I find it both flattering and frightening the sheer number of men who meet me and feel compelled to tell me how calm I make them feel, how easy it is to be around me, how soothing I am. This is a good thing considering my chosen vocation, but it breaks my heart.

The world is a cold, hard place, everyone knows this. Life is pain.

The person you choose to walk this earth with should be sanctuary.

A warm safe place