My girl entered a contest to be on the cover of a tattoo magazine. She’s gorgeous. I met her years ago, during the Drogo chapter of my life. I was chillin’ with him and she was getting her picture taken. He’s a multi tasker. We had already fucked, swam, eaten, fucked one more time and I was lounging before round 3.
I am always scared of meeting new women. Especially beautiful ones. In under 20 minutes we were bonding over post baby bellies and remedies. Drogo walked into the room as I had my index finger hooked in the waistband of her outfit and was looking down her panties and we were having a good giggle. Sadly, he did not have his camera in hand. Would have been one of those perfect candid shots. But alas, it is just burned into my memory instead.
I have a few of those. Picture perfect memories of which there is no proof outside my mind that they ever happened. My kneeling in front of a rather Rubenesque stripper named Christienne, with two pairs of pliers, putting her clit ring back in. the morning after the night before as I stared in wonder out of the window in the empty mansion, naked except for some thigh highs, warm and happy and overwhelmed.
I have no idea where I was going with this.
Started it a week ago probably.
I am not myself anymore.
I couldn’t tell you when I stopped writing, I mean I could look on here and trace back the decline in my words. The weeks that went by and I said nothing instead of posting 3 articles every 7 days.
America is terrifying and kinda on fire. I am house mom stripper on a weird little rock in the Atlantic. People have come and gone. And come back, and come back one more time, and just a few more times for good measure. I have hired some of the worst strippers/human beings on the planet. One refused to leave my house for 8 days and screamed obscenities and cursed my name for the duration of her overstay. I kept drinking and quitting in longer and shorter intervals. Its been 40 days with a birthday slip up, for the record. I met someone I care about deeply and it’s been a challenge.
It isn’t like I didn’t have shit to say.
Laptop was in a coma, but normally I would have gone running to the geek squad and had it fixed within 24 hours.
Maybe being here, living at the girl’s house for 6 months, separated from my dog and 90% of my stuff n things, and friends and family had something to do with it. The great delete of a year ago March or April. Wherein I took down things I had written, never done that before, and it kinda coincides.
Could be the 6 months of heavy drinking. The 18 days home after said six months wherein I only had to time to do a few things and come running back here. For this.
I don’t know if I like this.
I mean I can list all the things I don’t like. But who has the time.
My magic seems broken here. I have even tried doing things completely opposite to the mainland, but I can’t seem to get my power back. Just now and again in small doses. Blood majicks and the phone hasn’t rung yet.
Ha, Momo’s old trick worked.
She said “if you ever forget what you are doing, go pee, it will come back to you.” Just peed. Got it.
The tattooed girl on the cover of the magazine. Some dude decided to mansplain to her how these contests work blah blah scam blah blah blah. Spent more time telling her why she was stupid than it took for me to vote, twice, and share the link to my page so other people could vote.
I remember now
NAYSAYERS GONNA SAY NAY.
So I have 2 roommates. One is the epitome of health. She is at the gym for the 9th time this week (not exaggerating).
I was/am battling my own addictions and issues. She tough loved me and like I said, 40 days booze free with one fuck up. Also found a non douchey vape and have had less than a pack of cigarettes in a week after a pack a day habit for almost 30 years. I have a Thanos sippy cup at work now instead of a whiskey sippy cup. 40 ounces of water a go and I try to get through 3 per shift. I am hydrated. Can’t sleep for shit now, but I am fucking hydrated.
During a tough love session at the beginning of all this, wherein I laid on the grass in the park with a killer hangover and she ran 5km in circles around me, we came back to the house mid discussion on how my life was falling apart and roommate number 2 chimed in. Viciously. Like way too much. Like I sequestered myself in my room for 2 or 3 days, only leaving to shower eat and work.
I bawled for about 6 hours straight. The weight of everything I have been carrying, crushing me, almost to panic attack mode whre I couldn’t breathe.
And then it hit me.
Don’t take critisism from someone you wouldn’t take advice from.
He is Miss Havasham, married the prettiest girl on the island and it didn’t work out so now he is mad about it and tortures himself and others.
Strip club DJ’s in the 90’s were kings of the world. Strippers too. Now we are barely scraping by. I accept this and have alternate plans. He doesn’t. He just went down the road to the other strip club.
Naysayers gonna say nay.
I remember sitting in his Jeep one night mentioning what I would have done for someone else who was supposed to go to prison and roomie 2 saying no one had ever done anything lke that for him.
And yet, not once but twice roomie number 2 went at me so personally and rude I ended up in tears. We were supposed to be friends. And ya, I nagged him about all of his bad habits, including the ones that culminated in his termination, but I did it out of love, not schadenfreude. I also made sure he ate real food and changed his sheets. I understand misery loves company, and it takes way less effort to wallow in your own shit than to actually do something. But come on.
My PIC who happens to be a mutual friend even said to him “Sarah is incredibly forgiving and we have been through a lot. You should try talking to her, make some effort.”
But there is no effort. Just dirty dishes in the sink and a flippant comment about how this is ‘on me.’
It ain’t.
He is hell bent that my relationship is in my head and won’t work and I am just wasting my time.
But it’s mine to waste.
And what about that thing where no one ever showed him that kind of effort. Why deny another man that?
because…
2 kinds of people in the world. I had to go through this so you should too. and I had to go through this and I will do everything I can to keep you from it because I know it sucks.
Love not shown is love wasted ~ Michael Xavier.
I have that tattooed on my ribs for fuck sakes.
And the other times I tried dating on this island ended as badly as anything has ever ended. So what is wrong with being celibate for 140 days and saving myself from those horrors for someone I believe is worth it?
And what if it does work out?
What about that.
What if it doesn’t work?
What if it does Work?
Is there any way to know which is the greater challenge?
If I knew, I’d tell you.
its going to go the way it is supposed to go.