Tiddie Pics and a Gentle Fuck You

Sleep does not come easy to the newly sober.

Still in that bad habit of having a couple whiskeys before I leave work.

Thankfully, less that before. But before was a whole lot. Soooooo…

Baby steps.

I didn’t work last night so I was not led into temptation.

My kryptonite booze and boys.

Trying to trade whiskey for water. Succeeding somewhat.

But the boy thing is proving to be a cakewalk.

Those that once turned my head are just turning my stomach.

I severed a thread last night.
I had to.
I think it was the 3rd of 4th racial slur that caused my vagina to permanently and audibly slam shut.
I’m better than being some toddler’s neglected toy and I’m most definitely not free porn.

Speaking of free porn.

Like I said, I couldn’t sleep last night. So I started scrolling though old (private) photo albums on Facebook looking for tiddie pics to send to jail bae.

I have an album called “holding area”. Basically a dumping ground for everything that was in my phone from when my actual real and single life started in Milton and continuing through the first year in Hamilton. Not everything, just everything I deemed important for that 2/3 year period.

It was interesting to see the progression of how much better I have gotten at taking selfies. Revisit old rooms and moments.

I found great comfort in the realization that the things that I once deemed paramount and archive worthy, didn’t really matter to me anymore. Means I am evolving and more importantly, if something is hurting me now, there exists a future where it doesn’t bother me one bit. I will get there. It’s science.

Found some tiddies. And some fond memories. Held a silent vigil for some of the cute outfits I have loved and lost. Mourned the moving on of a few foster dogs. Remembered why I loved the Giant so. That boy had a way with words as well as his hands and other things.

Then this ancient text popped up.

“YOU MUST NOT READ FROM THE BOOK!!!” (every smart dude in any horror movie ever with an ancient mummy or curse or whatever)

Normally I would tear up. Shark week is here. But instead of my usual tears, there came a slightly angry smirk. The one that denotes everyone should clear the area immediately. But it was just me, in my comfy bed, face lit up with the light from my cellphone screen and an epiphany.
I had one very loud, clear thought.

I am a really fucking good girlfriend.

Followed by

I am fucking hilarious.

Followed by

Dear every dude I’ve tried to date or did date until you disappointed the fuck outta me til I couldn’t take it any more and I STILL stuck around and kept trying way after I should have stopped…

Y’all are dumb.

Usually I am all love and light and forgiveness and holding space and handing out advice and get out of jail free cards sprinkled liberally like never ending confetti.

“She broke down and let me in.”

But not last night at 4am.

I ain’t even mad.

There is no vengeance here. Just clarity.

No pompousness. Just facts.

All y’all who left me or pushed me away are dumber than a bag of hammers. I was right in front of you the whole time. Dumbass.

Y’all got to live with that.

This dude included.

He still messages me from time to time. Not lately. They all do.

We made our peace. He copped to being an asshole. I think he is trying with the one he has. Good for them.

Made my peace with all but 4. The things they did were illegal and unforgivable. I still have scars.

“Never going back again.”

Brian and I were having a chat in the jeep the other day, about some old plan I had to accommodate an ex, once upon a time. “I was going to go stay with Tina 2 Chains so I could work and visit while he was away.”

He said

“You have singlehandedly changed my idea of what a relationship could be. The amount of effort you put in when you care about someone…I have never experienced that before.”

He isn’t sure if this makes him sad or optimistic or both.

Probably both.

Raise the bar and put in some effort.

I feel the same way.

I was more in awe of the idea that I have a friend as good as Tina 2 Chains who would support me in my foolishness. That was the big deal to me. Not what I was willing to do, but what she was willing to do for me. I suppose this road goes two ways. I would walk to New Brunswick and carry her back if she asked me. I love her.

I have a framed quote next to me that simply states “Do you love?” I ripped it out of a Stephen King book. Salem’s Lot I think. I have carried it with me since I was a teenager.

And the answer is a resounding yes. Yes I do.

The love I have wasted on those who could give a fuck about me is all. Can you imagine if I end up getting some of that love back? It is going to be glorious.

“You don’t know what it means to win.”

Love is never wasted. Love is infinite and it’s not like I am going to run out.

Just got slapped in the face with a huge amount of disappointment lately and I am reassessing.

I love and I reassess, it’s what I do.

To me, the thing I said I would do for the ex, didn’t seem like a big deal really. I mean I guess it is. Moving everything, again, to be closer to someone who can’t move. It was pointless and fruitless. I still don’t regret it. I am happy here and now.

I was raised by women who deeply loved their men and showed it daily. One nurturing action at a time.

And I, myself, am a really good woman. Not just because of how I was raised but because I have loved and been loved badly and I have made a decision to never do that again. I am where vicious circles and cycles go to die.

I hunted online for a quote I remembered reading once. Couldn’t find it. So I shall paraphrase.

“I am a good woman” I screamed. Not at anyone in particular, just to remind myself.

And that is what happened at 4am. Reading this old text to an ex.

And I realized what I am capable of, by remembering the things I have done.

I will sit in the rain and hand you (the correct) tools while you fix your brakes, just so we can hang out.

You want to have sex 6 or 9 times in the middle of the night while I am on my period on my new, white Egyptian cotton sheets? Okay baby. I can always get new sheets. Time spent and memories are way more important than things. Same goes for the dress that got ripped because we couldn’t get me out of it fast enough and the couch I squirted prolifically upon. It’s just a couch.

You want Chinese food at 5am? That I can’t do…but I will make you a sammich and rub your back til you fall back asleep.

Sex and sammiches.

Love and understanding.

Need me to come get you at 3am because it’s time to rest? I’m putting my pants on right now. Sure I’ll pick up weed on my way. Get in the car baby, I already moved the seat alllll the way back.

Alternately. I have other things to do if you need/want to be alone or do other things.

I am good being alone.

I have my own friends if you want to go be with yours. Have fun babe.
I am equally good amongst the friends. There is no question who I belong to if I belong to you.
I am good with the mamas and the baby mamas too. I don’t compete with other women. I respect their space in your life. They were here before me.

I have things to keep me occupied if you want to watch sports, like making sammiches and blowing you at halftime.

There’s a lot of sex and sammiches happening here.

I don’t nag. Perfectly capable of doing 99% of everything by myself.

I hate fighting.

I hate shopping and would rather do it quickly and alone. Unless its 3am and we are picking up stuff for sammiches at the 24 hour grocery store. That’s fun.

I am comfortable in my body. I don’t worry about how I look or sound during sex which means I am ALL in, all the time. If I am having an orgasm, you’re gonna know about it. If I haven’t had an orgasm you’re gonna know about it as I change positions to make sure I do. I got this.

I could be meeting the queen of England on hair washing day and still be ready in under an hour. I won’t make you wait for much of anything.

I look equally cute in sweat pants and sun dresses. I own a plethora of both. You can dress up or dress down, if I am attracted to you, I just am.

I make my own money. I don’t want yours. I will help with your hustle and I have my own. You can buy me a coffee and I will hold it as precious as the Hope diamond.

I can cook (beyond sammiches) or we can go out. I don’t care. I won’t eat your fries and I always know what I want to eat, it’s usually tacos. You can always have some of my fries.

______________________________________________________________________________

So endeth my resume I guess. I don’t really need one. I am what I am. Like it or leave.

I was scared after being single for so long. What would I do with an actual boyfriend?

Then came the second part of the epiphany.
Just keep being me.

Love him.
Rub him.
Fuck him.
Feed him.
Support him.
Give him space.
Let him be himself and just enjoy all of that.

I got this.

(Bold + quotations = Fleetwood Mac, Never Going Back Again)