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Matthew Hussey, Mansplainer or Romance Guru

July 18, 2017

I have 92 minutes left on the dryer and this has been on a loop in my head all day so …
let’s see if we can get this done shall we?

I am pro Matthew Hussey.

But after posting a few videos of his to my page and my profile I am realizing not everyone is.

So be it.

 

 

To be fair, this was posted by one of the strongest women I know. Who also has no interest in a relationship. So really, these aren’t the droids you’re looking for.

And there’s that word again…Should.

Ya, a lot of us should be able to do a lot of things. And yet, here we are. Lost and confused as a whole.

Some things that are blatantly obvious to some of us are not as obvious to others. Experience or ego gets in the way.

I picture myself like her when I get older. She is single, ferociously independent and happy as is. I don’t expect to find one person to live happily ever after with. I am 43 now, I am happy, I have my dog, my life, my words, my son and my friends. I am fulfilled. And yet, I do keep trying with men. I like them and I love sex.

The second coming comment reminds of this “so he can make you cum that doesn’t make him Jesus” Tori Amos

Which lends itself to “little girls shouldn’t treat little boys they happen to meet like little gods” Voice of the Beehive.

And yet, we do. I do anyways. I give control of my happiness and self-esteem over to men who can’t even handle their own shit much less me at my best or worst. Or I used to. I am getting better. A lot of that comes with finding joy in being alone. But that is another post for another day.

Another opinion on Mr. Hussey Media usually placates to the lowest common denominator. Agreed, woman need to take more control, but personal accountability isn’t something our government/society encourages. I’ve never met him, he might have his heart in the right place, but his biceps and hair…..? Anyone that tries to explain a formula for finding love has to be digging for gold. There isn’t one.

Valid points. There is no formula for something that is as varied as our hearts and life experiences.

And yes, this is a different time for women. It’s so hard to find a balance when any show of strength gets you labelled a bitch and any show of open sexuality gets you called a whore.

But if you listen to him, he talks to women like people.

It’s not the biceps or the hair, nor the accent, which by the way has been scientifically proven to put us both at ease and under the assumption the bearer of an English accent is intellectually superior and trustworthy. Weird right? England had a long standing tradition of invading other countries and fucking shit up…but maybe that’s why it’s both familiar and authoritative.

Nearly naked girls sell products, British accents sell ideas.

The world has pretty much figured this out as a whole and I cannot see it changing anytime soon. I personally like to fall asleep to David Attenborough’s snake charming grandfather timber, so there is that then.

I cannot remember the first Matthew Hussey video I saw. I think it was the one about unrequited love being worship.

Thunderpunch to the heart chakra. Here I was thinking it was romantic and pure and a testament to my piousness and devotion. Nope, nuh-uh. We shouldn’t worship people. Relationships are partnerships and when they are one-sided, it’s just sad and a waste of perfectly good effort and emotion.

I felt liberated.

I have since added this to my life practices when assessing romantic situations and writing about them. I mean I was kinda there, but the way he said it, made it click home, hard.

And therein lies the secret of his success and why I find him both refreshing and useful.

When he speaks, to me, things click.

I don’t equate this with mansplaining. Mansplaining to me is a ‘not all men’, ‘but what about men’, ‘this goes for guys too’, and the worst offenders the men who speak overtop of women and just say exactly what the woman just said and all the other men in the room all suddenly agree.

Matthew Hussey doesn’t do that.

And yes, sometimes he is Captain Obvious. But so is Dr. Phil and errrbody eats his condescending circus shit up with a spoon. To me Dr. Phil isn’t any kind of therapist, he’s just more logical than most people.

The reason for both their success?

No, not Oprah…

It is because logic becomes gospel. It’s rare.

The most commonly asked question I hear from women with man problems is “Well, what did he mean?”

To which I invariably answer, “Well what were the words he used? He meant those words in that order.”

It’s a good rule of thumb.

This isn’t always true exactly. Fuckboys speak their own language, which Matthew Hussey and I both have covered extensively, his stuff gets more hits but it’s not a competition.

Women, as a general rule, are emotional and complicated thinkers. Men as a general rule are more logical and simpler creatures. Unless it comes to building cars because heaven forfuckingbid they put them together so you only need 3 tools to fix them, nope, 27 different screwdrivers, torque wrenches, regular wrenches imperial measurements, metric measurements all on the same damned car. The fuck guys, it’s almost like you don’t want us to fix our own vehicles.

Where was I? Oh ya. Emotion versus logic and simple versus complex.

Now. When dealing with human beings in general we all carry the narcissistic trait of using our own base of emotion and experience to assess any situation. It is unfair to say its narcissistic actually. All we have is our own viewpoint and reality really. But where the problem arises is when women expect men (or vice versa) to process information, events, tasks etc. the way SHE would.

Ain’t gonna happen. Again, generalization. Some men have more empathy, have been raised by women/around women and can thereby ‘get it’ a little better than others. Same scenario with women. But for the intents and purpose of this article I am speaking of the average cisgender, sexually mature male and female human. Factory default settings I guess.

I know plenty of women and men that are terrified of the opposite sex. To the point where they will have a crush and go months without saying a word or approaching this person.

Personally? I’m not like that. If I want you, you’ll know. But, stepping outside of my own viewpoint, I can see the use for people like Matthew Hussey and other life/relationship coaches. I’ve been to therapy, I needed and adultier adult with a fresh perspective. To me, that is what Matthew Hussey does, just gives a fresh perspective to those who NEED it.

Don’t need it? Don’t watch him.

I don’t care for wine so I don’t drink it, leave it for the wine drinkers to enjoy. I don’t complain about it, I don’t question the existence of wine. I simply don’t imbibe.

I said earlier I don’t remember the first Matthew Hussey video I saw, I think it was the unrequited love is bullshit, but again, I can’t be sure.

I do know the last one I saw and I’ll post the links at the end.

Thunderpunch to the heart chakra.

He equated being in love, and losing that person, to quitting an addiction.

Fuck, yes. That is exactly what it is.

And me with my graveyard of zombified ex-lovers who just love love to randomly pop into my inboxes. I can testify it IS a rush, it IS a fix.

Hello, my name is Sarah and I am an addict.

Those messages send an opioid rush through my system, feels like sunshine to be remembered. And since I loathe unanswered messages, and I want to get high, I always message back. Usually within minutes.

He went on to talk about how healing and potentially getting that person back being the same process. If a man feels he has nothing to lose he will keep putting in the bare minimum to keep you around, after all, you are his fix too.

I have moments of awakening. At least 2 in the last few months have been because of Matthew Hussey. For that I am grateful.

I can dole out good, sound, responsible relationship advice to everyone on the planet, I’m really good at it. I rarely follow it. So I am one of those people who needs to hear what that man has to say, because for whatever reason…I actually listen.

We need more love in the world. Less fear, second guessing, less confusion and heartache.

I am behind anyone who tries to make it so.

To me he is just another logical light in the chaotic dark.

 

http://www.howtogettheguy.com

 

https://www.facebook.com/pg/CoachMatthewHussey/videos/?ref=page_internal

 

 

 

 

lost boys

Hearts and Moons

June 25, 2017

 

One of the more liberating things I have ever heard in my entire lifetime is that I am allowed to feel more than one thing at once.

I think I had the same sense of relief way back when I realized that bisexual was a thing I could be and was.

Still am to a degree. I admire and celebrate my girls girly bits a lil more than is normal I suppose but Manda Bear has got the butteriest-butter skin, Panda and Shae have got the booties like pow pow pow…and honestly, I think every stripper after a time learns to appreciate the female form in a way most women don’t. Naked is our normal.

I haven’t slept with a woman in years. Sisterwife kinda beat that want out of me. But hey, moving forward.

Where was I?

Oh ya. More than one thing at once.

Story of my life.

Double edged epiphanies. For the first forever of this blog I always started out “So two things happened”…because that is just how it is. I don’t tend to catch on the first time so I get two earth shaking signs from above, or below, depending.

I gotta try things more than once, reread books, rewatch movies because I might have missed something.

I am Jacob Two Two, forever repeating myself because I feel/felt unheard.

My newest noticeable MO/ blog phenomenon is writing an article, hitting publish and realizing I have WAY more to say and then writing part two.

To be totally honest all my articles have sucked donkey balls the last little while. Why not suck twice as hard in twice as many words…

I admit it. Massive drop in quantity and quality.

I used to have this schedule. Tuesday Thursday Sunday. Write for 3 hours or so, sometimes 16, sometimes the piece would just fall out pretty perfect in under an hour. But lately, I am of two minds about everything. My schedule has gone to shit. I need some structure and discipline dammit. I need to decide what I want to say before I say it. But alas, this is going to be yet another bit of free flow drivel.

I write better in the mornings and I have been sleeping til noon. Not okay.

I need to be a little bit easier on myself. I realize now, when speaking of newer boys or situations, I did not yet have all the facts, or their true nature hadn’t revealed itself or shit just changed as it always does.

Fuck, I used to write nicely about ex hubby. Can’t now really except to say he still continues to be a better father figure to my kid than my kid’s actual dad. So there’s that then.

It’s been a year and a day since Panda and I made our first pilgrimage to the beach and found me exactly what I had asked for the night before.  A nice and easy summer fling.

And for a time it actually was.

Just like for a time everything else was good.

Until it wasn’t.

I posted to Facebook a year ago today  “I do so love it when they open their mouths and by speaking become exponentially hotter.”
I read that and grinned. T’was the truth. Just because he is gone doesn’t make it less true.

I was never overly smitten with him. He was just a band-aid. Did his job quite nicely. I found out 6 months later that he had been engaged the whole time, but if I put on his giant size 13 work boots and walk a mile…I wouldn’t have said no to me either. Who wouldn’t want dinner and a good fuck after a 16 hour work day a million miles from home.

I don’t hate him.

 

 

 

I don’t hate much of anything. Never have. Pineapple on pizza, but I will pick them off and not make a fuss over it, it is pizza after all.

I have been accused of reading too much into things, thinking too much so I suppose that is a sort of fussing and possibly over analyzing. But that is kinda who I am as a person.

I can be happy for them moving on and forward and still be sad that they left me behind.

I end up alone with gaping holes in the landscape of my life, the spaces they used to fill. It’s a matter of time really. Suddenly I have more of it and less of him.

My heart looks like the moon. Craters everywhere from being smashed into. Hard to walk around sometimes. Everyone leaves a hole I gotta navigate around. And sometimes I fall back in.

men

Goose and Gander

April 14, 2017

I sat upon the balcony yesterday, early evening watching the sky change colors.

Sitting, smoking, waiting.

Just enjoying the warm and the quiet, well almost quiet. Indie playlist on Spotify coming through the screen door. Squirrels arguing over pinecones, woodpecker knocking his face against a tree, grackles cackling and kids playing at the playground.

Couldn’t tell you exactly what I was thinking about, possibly nothing, but unlikely. I am always contemplating something. It’s just my way.

I adulted ultra-super-mega hard all day and needed a brief moment of respite so I took it.

Something caught my eye and I looked up from my phone. A blue jay, glancing over his wing at me, caught my eye and stared at me, as if to say ‘focus girl’. So I focused. I thought I knew what his particular winged portent meant. And I did. “Speak your mind”.
This is the omen blue jays bring. Speak up speak out clear your throat and just say it.

A few hours later I did.

And it was unpleasant.

In the moment I believed I was right.

Adamantly so.

Blue jay shoulda told me to pick my battles. This was nothing but a small skirmish, not a war.

But I suited up and to war I went.

Much ado about nothing but I didn’t see it that way. I was blinded by prior events.

I hate having tantrums, my stomach ties itself into knots, my eyes sting and my throat burns.

But a tantrum I had. Missed the foot stomping part. Sat on the top step and begged instead. Equally as gross.

I lost the fight, if you could even call it that.

I didn’t get my way.

Revelations chapter one.

Why should I?

He said very plainly “You’re and introvert and I’m an extrovert, I want to go out.”

In the din of my internal struggle against panic and worry, I didn’t hear him right away.

I was left alone to gather my thoughts. I get left a lot. It struck a chord in me and not a good one, like a guitar out of tune with a reverb pedal. But eventually the noise faded and my thoughts became clear.

Alone.

Alone I like.

I’ve been craving it, stealing moments when I can. Being late for things just so I can spend a few more minutes with myself. Getting up at 6 am so I can sit on the very same balcony where the blue jay paid me a visit and just have some solitude before I head back into the world.

Herein lay the epiphany that presented itself rather gently as I laid in the bed, my body held comfortably by the divot we’ve made.

I like being alone.

He doesn’t.

What is good for the goose isn’t always what is good for the gander.

And that’s okay.

I sent a text saying “I was wrong” and promptly and peacefully fell asleep.

He made good on his promise and came home on time. No harm, no foul.

Kissing me and tucking himself into me and the aforementioned divot.

I’ve never been one to mind being woken up, especially that way. I rarely have trouble falling asleep or getting back to it.

All of my no’s from earlier were been replaced with ‘okay baby’.

My natural state of being.

I smiled in my half sleep.

There was no conflict other than what existed in me.

He walked away exactly long enough for me to figure things out on my own and then did something entirely foreign to me.

He came back.

And I let it go.

lost boys

Erasing My Fault Lines

April 11, 2017

Um, all of them Rob
ALL. OF. THEM.

GEMINI (May 21-June 20):
Now is an excellent time to FREE YOUR MEMORIES. What comes to mind when I suggest that? Here are my thoughts on the subject. To FREE YOUR MEMORIES, you could change the way you talk and feel about your past. Re-examine your assumptions about your old stories, and dream up fresh interpretations to explain how and why they happened. Here’s another way to FREE YOUR MEMORIES: If you’re holding on to an insult someone hurled at you once upon a time, let it go. In fact, declare a general amnesty for everyone who ever did you wrong. By the way, the coming weeks will also be a favorable phase to FREE YOURSELF OF MEMORIES that hold you back. Are there any tales you tell yourself about the past that undermine your dreams about the future? Stop telling yourself those tales.

https://www.facebook.com/Rob-Brezsnys-Free-Will-Astrology-133041234078/

 

 

But that is what I do. Isn’t it? Post-game analysis, see where I went wrong…

I was wrong…right?

Rob says stop, so stop I must.

This is the end, my only friend the end. The Doors

I haven’t been that emotionally down in a long time.

How about ‘every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end’ (Semi Sonic)

That works.

I never write about endings on here, or very rarely I guess.
Sometimes it’s because…’and then he never called me again and I have no idea why’ doesn’t really make for a gripping story.
Sometimes it’s because things just faded into a friendship, or with the ones wherein I had the revelation that I was 7 of 9 and not ‘his girl’ like they had promised.

Why would I want to archive that? I pick up the pieces and move on, sometimes slowly… then all at once.

I’ve been left and I have been hurt and I refuse to visit pain on others.

I am rarely the one to leave. End of story.

In the interest of clean breaks and tidy endings…

On a long enough timeline the truth always comes out. Still waiting on a couple but I know they’ll come.

My first foray into dating ended after 3 months of happy when I asked if we could be boyfriend/girlfriend, him saying he ‘wasn’t ready for a relationship’ and me waking from a midsummer night’s dream with a very loud voice echoing in my ear stating “her name is Kayla and she has cotton candy hair.”

It was actually K___ and her hair has been baby blue, baby pink and lilac respectively in the months and years that have passed since then.

18 months later, when she was mean to him, I consoled him. Not like that, just said nice things.

The next one fell into a deep chasm of depression and had to move away atop a mountain.
No great mystery there.
He is as happy on his side of the country as I am on mine.

There was a patented Fuckboi in there, again nothing to be solved, he just was what he was. Well, is what he is. He still pops into my inboxes from time to time. I say hello and deliberately leave it up to him to plan something, knowing he won’t. He never calls back until the amnesia wears off again and he wonders what I am doing or runs out of other girls to fuck. He has abandonment issues the reasons for and the likes of which I have never seen so I refuse to be cruel. Ain’t waiting around neither.

Thai Fighter was engaged the whole time.

Black 19 was incarcerated, again.

The mystery of Lumberjack may well remain unsolved. He blocked me from everything ever and it’s not like I ever saw him. The only thing I was good at was living without him, so that’s a freebie.

Gelfling…well that is a whole other tale along the riverbank. I met his new girl recently and everything suddenly made sense, twice actually, once for him and once for another. A two-fer if you will. A perfect balance of me being too much and them feeling not enough. Can’t be helped I supposed. I refuse to shed my muchyness and they have yet to grow up. The hazards of young un’s I suppose. No great loss in retrospect. Like setting down the Holy Grail and deciding on a sippy cup instead. Better call not-Becky with the red hair.

There is a footnote here.

I am hard to explain to people. I am older and strange. By vocation I am a writer of truths and porn, plus the stripper thing. I am not not-Becky, red headed or otherwise.

To be with me, to claim me in public you have to be pretty brave. You have to give fewer fucks than most about what other people think.

Am I worth it?

I think so.

Nevertheless she persisted.

I cook, I clean, I fuck and I love. I clean up nice and can carry a conversation.

I don’t bitch, steal or lie.

I am already way ahead of most.

I know this now.

Took me a while.

I was mired down in the idea that I had to take some responsibility. But it isn’t mine. I did my part. I showed up and I cared. I contributed to their happiness and well-being. I asked for very little in return.

I’ve long held the belief that I as the common denominator must be part of the problem, even if it was so basic as ‘I felt bad about myself and thereby made bad decisions’. At least I made a god damned decision.

That scene in Good Will Hunting at the end. Robin Williams looks through Matt Damon’s file, sees the abuse and says “It’s not your fault” until Matt Damon breaks down and sobs from his core.

It’s not my fault, these things that have been done to me. It’s truly not on me that they left. I did what I was supposed to, I came all the way forward and stayed.

It’s not my fault at all.

men

Mountains, Monsters and Men

April 6, 2017

I wanted to write something.

I had it in my head and it was a good idea but…

I am on day one of flipping my schedule from days back to nights and I was up, bleary eyed at 6 this morning.

Logical me wanted to go back to bed.

Smitten kitten me wanted 5 more minutes with Mister.

I saw a thing once or a million times, in movies or on TV where the man cups his hand around the back of a girls neck, with his fingers lightly tangled in her hair and he pulls her ever so gently towards him and kisses her forehead.

Ya, that happened this morning.

I floated home.

Felt as good as it looked and seemed to me it would.

It’s funny, after everything…there are still new things that haven’t happened yet.

It’s the little things.

Always the little things for me.

Big romantic gestures make me squirm. Flowers, although lovely, end up dying. Gifts are just things, words are just words but a kiss on the forehead can feel like the whole world, when the whole world is still dark and he climbs back in bed for one more minute with me.

He pulls choice phrases and words from old posts on here.

One of them claimed that I had ‘copious amounts of sex’.

I thought I did.

Seemed like a lot at the time…but anything compared to nothing is something.

He is something else.

Copious has found new meaning.

Many things have found new meaning.

I wrote once that the only trouble with making something out of nothing is when the nothing starts to show through.

I had a whole lotta nothin’.

I used to make mountains out of molehills and monsters out of men.

“I only date beasts” I said.
“Tell the wolves I am home” I cried.
“Fairy tales and parables about monsters” I wrote.

But what kind of creatures aren’t brave enough to stick around?

Beasts, wolves and monsters don’t run. Well they do, when a hero shows up with a magic sword. And that is exactly what happened here.

These boys I made out to be something they weren’t, weren’t nothing per say…but they weren’t what I made them out to be.

Little did I know that eventually even the heaviest gilding fades, the nothing would show through.

Me and Jon Snow, still don’t know nothing.

Except now I have an inkling.

It was like when Buffalo Bill has Catherin Martell down the well, she’s snagged Precious in the fucking basket and says “I think she broke her leg on the way down…I think she’s in a lot of pain mister.” And he yells back “you don’t know what pain is.”

I used to know exactly what pain was. I also knew a hit could feel like a kiss when the body is starved for attention. (Unknown)

I used to starve.

I was Catherine Martell, living on scraps, down in a hole, in a madman’s basement just trying to find a way out. Rubbing the lotion on my skin when told to do so. Attempting to communicate and negotiate with varying someone’s who mocked my pain and dehumanized me to justify what they were doing.

Now I am out.

Been out for a while now.

But like most prisoners, I kept reoffending so I could go back to the “comfort” of what I knew. Yep, you guessed it…nothing. Or very little at least. Another word for a hole in a crazy man’s basement is oubliette, somewhere you put things you want to forget.

And there I sat, remembering them.

I suppose it makes sense, all I had for company was memories. Little moments and snippets of happiness stitched into a quilt to keep me warm.

Now the quilt is threadbare, slowly becoming the nothing it was made from. Pretty soon just my own indestructible, red thread will be all that’s left. As it should be.

It was a security blanket and I don’t need it anymore. I have a good man to keep me warm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

regular lust

Hey Jealousy

April 5, 2017

“The green fairy that lives in the absinthe wants your soul.” Bram Stoker’s Dracula

There is another green fairy who tries to eat your soul and succeeds sometimes, she is a scary monster and not a nice sprite at all.

Hey

jeal·ous·y ˈjeləsē/

noun

  1. the state or feeling of being jealous.

“a sharp pang of jealousy”

synonyms: envy, covetousness;

resentment, resentfulness, bitterness, spite;

informal the green-eyed monster

“he was consumed with jealousy”

suspicion, suspiciousness, distrust, mistrust, insecurity, anxiety;

possessiveness, overprotectiveness

“the jealousy of his long-suffering wife”

 

I don’t mean envy. Enviousness, to me, is something completely different.

God said Thou shall not covet.
So I don’t.
I’m happy with what I have where I am and I know that if that changes, I have to change.
I can and do love many things but I don’t need to beg, borrow or steal them from anyone else.

Jealousy is a totally different creature.

I stopped being jealous years ago.

It was one of those times where the Universe swooped in and said “oh you think you are jealous now? Lemme give you something to be jealous about.”

And she did, and it was bad, then it was over, Amen.

I hated that feeling of butterflies in my stomach turned to sharp poisoned things trying to beat their way out. Knowing another woman had been in my house, my bed, my life and wanting something that was never mine to begin with.

Had I stopped coveting what was not mine, I would have saved myself a lot of time, trouble and heartache. I know that now.

I read something once about ‘good men can’t be stolen’. This is true. If he loves you he’ll stay.

Addendum, the best revenge on a woman that stole your man is to let her have him.

Not big on revenge either. Time sorts everything out, some people like to call that karma…it’s really just time spiralling in and out, changing perspectives and a little cosmic comeuppance every now and again.

I love my life now, couldn’t have any of this without all of that.

Cruz has been reading the blog. Uh oh Spaghettios.
When we met he said he wasn’t big on reading and I sighed a big sigh of relief. That didn’t last long. One thing I asked for repeatedly when I was trying to figure out what I wanted in a man/partner/relationship was ‘someone who wants to know all of me’. And that is what he is doing. Trying to learn me, figure me out and it should be bliss, but sometimes it ain’t.

I write fondly of my exes.

Hurts my heart knowing it troubles his.

I have to say nice things, I don’t want to remember the bad bits, although they are in here too. The crying jags, the nights without sleeping trying to deal with this loss or that one. There were so many I can barely keep track and I lived through it and wrote it all down.

Once it’s down on paper I can let it go.

This is my catharsis.

I know, beyond all doubt, I don’t want to go back there.

I asked him over and over to check the dates. But honestly, I don’t think that helps.

I know if he sat down and reiterated and regaled me with tales of his exes the way I write I’d die a little inside with every syllable, every bit of praise he doted on them.

I’m being a little melodramatic, but it stings. Like putting your tongue on a 9 volt battery, you know it’s gonna hurt and yet we do it anyways.

Part of me wants to know, because I want to know him. Not just the shiny fun bits, all of it. He is honest and forthcoming in a way that occasionally knocks the wind out of me. His lack of filter matches mine and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Do not ask the price I pay, I must live with my quiet rage, tame the ghosts in my head that run wild and wish me dead.” Mumford and Sons

More melodrama. Hurts less than a paper cut really, I know he is mine. I trust him implicitly.

I know what I went through and I know how I feel. I pretty things up in here by throwing flowers on graves. Doesn’t make them any less dead to me.

I was looking for something I didn’t think existed. But in my tenacious as fuck way, I kept trying.

She thrusts her fists against the posts and still insists she sees the ghosts.

I do see my ghosts, and occasionally, when we go out, I see his too.

We talk openly about where we have been, what went right/what went wrong. At some point without discussing it, we decided on full disclosure and I wouldn’t change it.

I said to him the other day “I wish you would read the posts about what I wanted”. The posts wherein I made detailed lists of what I was looking for, hoping that if I wrote it all down the universe would listen.

And she did.

Past is gone but something might be found to takes its place (Gin Blossoms)

I wouldn’t trade him for any combination of them.

Now is blessed, the rest remembered. Jim Morrison

Uncategorized

Dark and Light

April 2, 2017

“Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people.”— Carl Jung

This is true.

Knowing your own darkness also makes it easier to see your light.

I am not one to waste or kill time, or to wish it away it’s much too precious a thing…but as I sit on the precipice of a double, in the cold, damp rain…I wish Sunday would hurry up and get here. (this was also true, on Thursday)

It’s Sunday, we finally made it.

I’ve been awake for 1 hour and 13 minutes.

When I woke up at 8:12am it felt like the whole town I live in was still asleep.

I took my cue from the birds and stayed awake, they are so happy today, as am I.

It’s a glorious day, the sun is shining, I shall not squander this.
I was thinking it hadn’t been this warm since February, but my version of ‘not squandering’ meant I sat on my porch, coffee in hand and scrolled relentlessly through Facebook and Instagram for about an hour and 12 minutes and Facebook told me it was 18 degrees 10 days ago.

I remember that day.

I could’ve gone back to bed. I wanted to. I worked last night and had vowed to not get overly drunk, and well… I kinda sobered up by the time I came home. Still had the shakes and a foggy head as a war raged between what my body wanted to do and what my brain said was best.

My brain won. Body has decided this is okay.

Summer is coming. In fits and starts, but it’s coming.

I sat outside of my day job last week as it snowed and rained simultaneously, with that cold, damp feeling that had set into my bones and I wondered if I would ever be warm again. I could not bring to mind what the parking lot looked like in the summer, in the sunshine even though I tried.

Today is better. Yesterday I wanted to shut the gray curtains against the grey skies because I was tired of looking at it, so when the sun snuck through my window this morning and landed on my face it felt like a kiss from a long lost lover.

I love that my window faces east.

I’m wondering if I would have such an appreciation for the brief yet glorious summer I experience as a Canadian girl.

Maybe if I had lived somewhere more equatorial as a kid I wouldn’t. But I just lived through my 42nd Canadian winter, I am good now. I have enough muscle memory stored of days the air hurt my face, the never ending search for the answer to the age old question ‘how many hoodies is too many hoodies?’ slush in boots etc.

The last 3 years I’ve gotten to escape to Florida with its perpetual sunshine and the ocean for 3 of the worst weeks here. I know this is a blessing and I try not to squander that either.

I think that might be the secret of life. ‘Enjoy when you can, and endure when you must.’ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe —

We all know how enduring I am, and ever since I learned to find the joy in the little things it has been abundant.

Especially lately.

I think when you see miracles in everyday things, the universe wants to show you more.

God just wants to be loved (The Color Purple)

Part of being loved is being seen and appreciated, in all your glory or all your mess. Someone looking at you when you are down without judgement, knowing this too shall pass and the sun will come back out eventually.

I fall down and falter, but I also rise and shine.

Cruz and were talking in the car the other day, he said something about never being in a relationship with anyone that doesn’t treat you like your best friends do.

Well, ain’t that the truth.

They love me, sometimes it’s tough love but it’s always unconditional.

This is new to me.

Now I wonder, would I have such and appreciation for the way things are now if I hadn’t lived through the winters of my discontent?

Unlikely.

I’m grateful for every grey minute of my past, makes this sunshine feel so much warmer and brighter by comparison.

 

 

 

regular lust

Hard to Swallow

March 31, 2017

I have come to realize my sin is pride. It was not I who drove the wolves away, it was God.
(Mother Abigail, The Stand by Stephen King)

Massive paraphrasing but you get the idea.

We all partake in the seven deadlies, my favorite being lust, least favorite being a tossup between gluttony and envy. Although with anything but food, I do indulge in some things to excess, especially lusty things.
Envy ain’t my thing. I have attained a state of being that is truly happy when others are happy. I make my own green pastures and lie down in them, I shall not want.

I did allow myself to be proud, or maybe I was rejoicing in the pride someone else felt about me a little too much.

And it was definitely not I who kept the wolves at bay, I know this now.
It was god…and I swung the door wide open and let them come a runnin’ back in.

Maybe not wolves…hyenas maybe? Wolves I have been known to love and howl with. These are something else. Carrion eaters mayhap.

I stopped taking scissors to the parts of me that others don’t like.
I am what I am.
Take it or leave it.

Sidenote: I am also not an asshole and can glean when a few of those things need trimming or amending especially when making the transition from single to taken.

What I’ve found myself doing instead is wiggling. Trying to shimmy and squish myself into spaces made for me by others. See how well that worked out for James Franco in 127 Hours, he had to cut off his arm for being somewhere he didn’t fit.

Second verse same as the first.

Sleeping limbs from hands being tied.

Pins and needles.

Those are traditionally used for sewing things together. So why am I feeling torn apart.

Well you see Dear Reader, I forgot how bad I am on paper.

So bad, all ink stains and scribbles. Parables and prose and porn, lots and lots of porn.

This is why the men who leave me find cardboard cut-out versions of me that cook hamburger helper and can’t fuck right.
It’s easier than trying to explain me.

But what happens when someone stays, appreciates the little things, takes my tantrums in stride, sits with me after a stage show and says he’s proud of me and scours the blog so he can learn me better. Even with all of the sharp bits and risks of paper cuts…

Suddenly and by proxy, I am kinda proud of me too.

It’s funny, I always wondered what I looked like through the eyes of others.

Some think I am awful, dangerous even. I know this, its fine.

The ones who know me know I am clumsy and kind.

He thinks I am beautiful.

I think I am all of those things. I wear different faces in different places…but with him I get to take my masks off and just feel at home.

I have strived to be this loving accepting creature. Creative and unafraid. Naked and okay with it in a society where we are told to cover up, calm down, fit in and bleat like the rest of the sheep.

They say the things we despise in others are the things we despise about ourselves and it’s true. But I think it can go the other way too, when we find ourselves reflected in others.

He looks at me and I can see the good things about myself.

I am not wrong, I am just rare, and so is he.

Uncategorized

Love Just Is

March 28, 2017

Love is patient, love is kind.

Oh yes, it is those things.

It is also, ‘put on your seat belt’, ‘did you get enough to eat?’ and reassuring someone after a nightmare even though you really wanna dye your hair…among a multitude and myriad of other things.

“It’s all based off of love. And love isn’t ‘do this for me and I’m going to do this for you’, that’s not what love is. Love is just I’m going to do this for you because I’m going to do this for you.”

YouTube rabbithole I was tumbling down took a weird turn and landed on the Biebs.

Before I realized it was him, I was in full agreeance, after I realized it was him, I am in full agreeance.

It’s true.

I think that love and or fondness for another human being makes little tasks and treats for said person into a pleasurable experience. Mind you I have always been the girl who enjoyed giving gifts at Christmas more than receiving them. Releases some kind of happy chemical in my brain when I see someone else’s joy.

I have written articles before such as Love as a Verb and Love as a Noun. Love is action and a state of being in my humble yet loving opinion.

Case and point, having beers with the boys last night.

One said “I always wished she would have come over and girlied up the place but she never did.”

Which lead into me saying ‘well you weren’t doing what she wanted to do (which was consider letting her move in) so she didn’t do it.’

I choked on the words a bit, but they are paramount truth.

Too many people running around only giving love conditionally.

To me that is withholding, and an abomination against the Lord.

And not at all indicative of love.

But it is so much the norm that that particular behavior is immediately recognizable and easily identified.

Doesn’t make it any less one-sided and shitty.

I post love memes all day every day, and without fail or exception there is a rabble rabble from the crowd…

“But he doesn’t do _____ for me, why should I be nice to him?”

Because you love him maybe? Or claim to?

“You keep using that word (love) and I don’t think it means what you think it means.” Princess Bride.

We are ever evolving creatures that change and learn as we go, or the ones I want to hang out with are. Why sequester yourself in a relationship with someone who stifles that? Puts limitations and expectations on you to be something they have created in their own mind as ideal. I don’t get it.

My favorite thing? Sitting back and letting people be themselves. Watching their eyes light up when they get excited about something they love. Feeling safe to be myself is so incredibly important to me that I try to carry around that idea of sanctuary with me wherever I go.

There are billions of people on the planet, find one that fits as is.

That is exactly what love is to me “I love you as is, just because.” Drunk, sleepy, cranky, happy, strange, dirty, clean…all of those things are faces of you and I like yer face.

I love you because I just do.

regular lust

I Only Date Beasts

March 21, 2017

Bittersweet and strange
Finding you can change
Learning you were wrong
Tale as old as time
Beauty and the Beast

He fucked me 6 times yesterday and still thought I was hot enough to mention it at 6am, on our way to MacDonald’s drive thru on his way to drop me off on his way to work.

He called me beautiful and he is a beast.

Been looking for one of those for a long time and up until now they have been weighed, measured and I was left wanting.

Not anymore.

I thought I had one once, upon a time not that long ago, but he was all talk and no time for me.

So I left.

Why does it always have to be ‘I have you or I hate you.’???

Weren’t we just friends? Didn’t we trust each other a few weeks ago? We talked every day. Now I have to walk around this hole in my life. It’s just a puddle not a crater. I’ll live.

I was just one girl out of several on his roster.

I never understood the phenomenon of “You aren’t behaving the way I expect you too so I shall name thee whore, cast you out and never talk to you again.”

But honey…

I am a whore and damned proud of it. He was proud of me once. Showed me off to his friends with pics, but I never met them. Apparently I was the hottest of the girlfriends.

I didn’t win anything.

One would think that if a guy has a hot girlfriend said friends would hound him to do something about it. But what do I know?

His business partner managed to drive to Milton nightly, in the dead of winter to bang some random flavor of the month chick, repeatedly and raw.
I lived a lot closer and I got ignored so hard that I questioned my own existence.

When I said I couldn’t wait anymore Lumberjack said ‘You knew what you were getting into. I’m over it. You wasted my time.’

Wait…what?

You plucked a nympho out of thin air, basically winning the lottery and fucked me…4 times in 9 months? With 2 blowies and a finger bang thrown in, for what?

To be blocked on everything?

His last one left him because they never went out. So I never asked to go out.

I didn’t ask for much.

I tried to be understanding. I waited and waited and waited.

“She didn’t understand I work so much so I can have this house, she can come over any time.”
But I wasn’t allowed in that very same house after he moved upstairs.

It was over then and I hung on for 5 more months.

He stopped trying as soon as I put out.

That’s the norm.

Or it was…

Ever just the same
Ever a surprise

From trashed to treasured.

My ex-husband called me a turboslut after he read the blog. Said he was ashamed he’d ever known me and touched me. You and me both buddy. I shudder and long for the day that my skin cells have regenerated enough times that they never knew you existed. Not long now.

We waited 3 months to sleep together and I went to prison for 7 years for honoring that probationary period.

Besides, I kinda am all those names I’ve been called.

I am not ashamed of it anymore.

Thought I had found someone who thought it was great too, but he never showed up to claim his prize.

Fuck him.

Over it.

Something wonderful happened the other day.

Something wonderful has been happening for 3 weeks now.

I told y’all I slept with a young Scorpio on the first date.

We went to see Get Out and we decided we weren’t done hanging out yet.

I was so fucking frustrated and he is so fucking hot I caved, maybe 20 minutes after I said I wasn’t gonna.

It was worth it.

I had joked that we wouldn’t last long enough to see Beauty and the Beast.
One of the previews we agreed on seeing whilst sitting in the theater. It wasn’t a joke. I figured he’d bail sooner than later. Why wouldn’t I?

They all do.

I fucked him, put my clothes on and he drove me home, all the while me thinking “that was really good, too bad I’ll never see him again.”

I even said it out loud before I shut the car door.

He came over the next night.

Not the one after that because I was working, but the next night.

Probably 15/20 days we’ve seen each other, at least for a few hours.

On the 14th day he asked me to be his girlfriend, even though he thought I’d say no. He wanted it enough that he took a chance. Of course I said yes.

When it’s been more than 24 hours since we’ve fucked he gets these lusty eyes. Or when he looks at me really. We’ve joked about fucking in bar bathrooms, it’s really only a matter of time.

I told him what ex hubby said, the turboslut thing.

He did something I wasn’t expecting, he took back the nickname and made it into a good thing.

He makes a lot of things into good things.

He said last night while we were lying in bed, pretty much out of nowhere, “I don’t know why these guys all left you.”

Honestly babe, I don’t know why they left either, but I am glad they did.

Beauty and her beast? He surprised me with tickets on Saturday. Walked nostalgically back through our first date. (You shushed me here)

The Adventures of Turboslut and her Fuck Monster.

My kind of fairy tale.

 

 

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