Here is a link: https://alittlebitofeverything.life
Come with me if you want to…
Here is a link: https://alittlebitofeverything.life
Come with me if you want to…
I love good song lyrics. In some instances, a musician’s lyrics have spoken the words I needed to hear or echoed my sadness in a way that made me not feel alone…it’s poetry…but more powerful because not only do the words have meaning and feeling, but the music has feeling too. It’s a beautiful thing. The music makes the poetry more powerful than I am ever capable of creating with my feeble stringing together of words on paper. But then again, I am the weirdo who will have a song or an album on repeat sometimes until the people around me want to run screaming into the street – LOL. (Joni Mitchell’s “Blue” album was one…)
I had never heard of a band named Dawes until yesterday. I have no idea why…classified as “Indie” (and I listen to that genre – among others). Their song “A Little Bit of Everything” is brilliant. Simple and deep.
It starts out with a man ready to jump of the Golden Gate bridge and “join that demographic”. When asked what the problem is, the response is:
‘Oh, it’s a little bit of everything,
It’s the mountains,
It’s the fog,
It’s the news at six o’clock,
It’s the death of my first dog,
It’s the angels up above me,
It’s the song that they don’t sing,
It’s a little bit of everything.
Then the next part of the song is an old man in a buffet line thinking about his life and all the little bits of everything it comprised…disappointment and loss… and now today in this buffet, when the server asks, “Have you figured out yet, what it is you want?” He will have a little bit of everything…but he’s smiling – so we know he “gets it” now and will savor every little thing.
I want a little bit of everything,
The biscuits and the beans,
Whatever helps me to forget about
The things that brought me to my knees,
So pile on those mashed potatoes,
And an extra chicken wing,
I’m having a little bit of everything.
Then the song moves to a couple getting ready to be married and the woman is all wrapped up in the details. He says “Baby, can I make an observation? You don’t seem to be having any fun at all.” “She said, You just worry about your groomsmen and your shirt-size, And rest assured that this is making me feel good, I think that love is so much easier than you realize, If you can give yourself to someone, then you should.”
‘Cause it’s a little bit of everything,
The way you joke, the way you ache,
It is waking up before you,
So I can watch you as you wake.
So in the day in late September,
It’s not some stupid little ring,
I’m giving a little bit of everything.
Next the song wraps up with these words:
Oh, it’s a little bit of everything,
It’s the matador and the bull,
It’s the suggested daily dosage,
It is the red moon when it’s full.
All these psychics and these doctors,
They’re all right and they’re all wrong,
It’s like trying to make out every word,
When they should simply hum along,
It’s not some message written in the dark,
Or some truth that no one’s seen,
It’s a little bit of everything.
The matador and the bull – both sides of a situation or opposing paradigms. All the things you are supposed to do in life – the “daily dosage”. Beauty. Shades of grey – there is no black and white to life. Over-analyzing everything instead of enjoying the moment and humming along. There is no one thing that makes everything. No one thing that fixes everything. No one thing that makes our life turn out they way we thought we wanted or not. No one thing that makes everything okay.
Life is a little bit of everything. It’s supposed to be. Sometimes you look up only to realize years have gone by and nothing it seems was really accomplished – just a lot of little bits of everything. If you are sad, it isn’t just one thing. Happy isn’t just one thing…Life is comprised of all these moments…moments and decisions followed by more moments and decisions…there is a beauty in that. If we pause to savor the moment while it’s there, we live a deeper, more yummy life. “Love is so much easier than you realize”…savor it…do it…feel it…give it…be it. We all seem to look for the “one” thing – the one answer – the one reason – there is no “one”. It truly is a little bit of everything.
It’s fucking beautiful…so simple, yet so profound. That will be the name of my new blog. A Little Bit of Everything.
Here is a link: https://alittlebitofeverything.life
The last few days every time I pull a tarot card, the meaning has the word serendipity or synchronicity or both in the words for the meaning of the card. Coincidentally I even recently re-watched the movie Serendipity because my TV suggested it for me. Okay Universe…I’m listening…what are you trying to say?
The definition of serendipity is “the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way”. The definition of synchronicity is “the coincidental occurrence of events and especially psychic events. It is as if our inner world and the world around us find ways to communicate through coincidence.”
So… maybe people think these things are special or magical. They happen to me all the time. They have for so long I take them for granted. That is just part of the daily magic of being alive. If I take a wrong turn or miss my freeway exit, I don’t stress…I always assume it’s because I am meant to see something pretty or avoid an accident not meant for me. But I’m weird like that. If I am clear in what I want, the Universe delivers it…it just shows up. (If I am all in my head and “balled up about it”, it is delayed – my own fault) So maybe the point is to quit taking it for granted and spend more time acknowledging it and saying “Thank you” for it? Maybe.
You are probably thinking “Gee, she sure has a lot of time for writing lately. Doesn’t she have a job or something?” Yeah, I do. I still have two jobs, but without the third job or dating sites sucking the life out of me, I have time for more reading and writing…and cooking…and yoga. And, when I “relax” the Universe takes care of me. I know that sounds dumb, but it does…things fall into place…obstacles disappear… money shows up.
I still feel the pull to change my blog name and blogging persona. I really am no longer The Undomesticated Bitch…sharing Adventures of an Undomesticated Bitch on the Daily Bitch pages. I just haven’t found the new one. Most likely It will involve making a whole new blogging space…with a link for those of you who want to continue with me on this messy journey of mine. I have rolled so many things through my mind name wise…I actually may have it…just now accidentally (or serendipitously and synchronistically) from a friend… more to come after I sit with it.
There was something else that crossed my mind in the shower this morning I was going to share…but now it’s gone – LOL (Replaced by thoughts of fast food 🤣)
I have a stubborn streak. Obstinate actually. It pops up sometimes when I least expect it. I’m not sure why it’s here today, but welcome to my world.
There was a day when I was a small child when there was a 4-hour stand-off…I had to stay in a chair until I told my step-father “Thank you”. I would not. My attitude was “I will not say thank you for something I am not thankful for just because you are a bully and demanding it. I don’t care…I will stay here all day, all night…forever. I don’t care anymore. You can yell, threaten, verbally poke at me, or punish me all you want to…kill me if you choose to…I’m already in this deep – I will not let you win this”. Finally, my mom told him I said it. He said, “Say it again so I can hear it”. I remember thinking “shit…mom’s going to be in trouble now if he knows she lied for me”, so I said it. Of course, the asshole said, “What? I couldn’t hear you, say it louder.” My mouth said, “Thank you” but my mind said, “Fuck you”. I even remember thinking I might stay in the chair all day and night as another way of saying “Fuck you – you bully”.
Take-away here – someone who is being obstinate may not stop for their own well-being or safety, but they will for someone else’s.
I am a “happy-go-lucky” kind of person in my heart…I don’t “dig in my heels” often. But that’s where I feel today.
Once on transferring to a new school, I was put into an AP Honors Algebra class. I had not taken the prerequisite of pre-algebra but they waived it due to my results on placement testing and IQ. The first day of class I came into a room of much older kids and the worksheets being handed out looked bizarre. The equations may have well been Greek or some other foreign language. My brain was saying “What the fuck is this?? What do we use it for??” (Cut me some slack – the internet had not yet been invented.) Fine…I will wrap my brain around this…whatever it is…but it wasn’t clicking. Finally, toward the end of class, I could no longer contain my question. I raised my hand to be called on and then asked “Why do we need to know this? Like what will we use it for in our daily life?” (I am always up for learning something that can be used but I need context) The teacher indicated some adults use it in their profession. That did not seem good enough to me…and it took her a long time to come up with it too…so she doesn’t know why she teaches it or why we need it. So, I decided “Fuck you – not going to waste time learning it.” I started skipping that class and did other things of interest instead…read in the library or got high with other people skipping other things. One day the guidance counselor came and found me…not sure how long it took but long enough that not going to the class was a regular routine. Mr. Patterson brought me to his office where another man was waiting also. He said they wanted to talk to me about honors algebra. Did I know I couldn’t stay in honors classes if I didn’t go…what was the problem he wanted to know because based on testing I should be excelling. I explained I didn’t care if I was in “honors” classes – that meant nothing to me. I didn’t understand how algebra had anything to do with life or how it was useful in any way and neither did Mrs. Anderson, so why should I go? Mr. Patterson stared at me with a deer-in-headlights look so I looked over at the other guy and he was beaming…literally beaming and smiling. He said “My name is Mr. Bradley and I also teach honors algebra. We are going to move you to my class, and I hope you will come. Algebraic equations are puzzles. Yes, some jobs require it, and you may or may not ever choose to have one of those, but it teaches you something else. It teaches you how to break down something complex into smaller, more manageable pieces under a set of rules, so you can solve the larger puzzle or problem. It teaches you critical thinking that can be used in other ways with other issues – that’s why I teach it.” Needless to say, Mr. Bradley won my respect with that answer, and I not only showed up for class – but early and with smiles. I reveled in algebra… give me harder puzzles please…this is fun. I got it… and straight As. Even tutored others in the class. He called my parents at some point during the school year. He was not calling because I was in trouble for something which often was the case for other calls from school, but to tell them what a joy I was to have as a student and how smart and wonderful I was. (He was a great teacher and very decent human)
Take away here – sometimes people need a “why”. The why will motivate them to stop resisting and release their position on something.
This obstinance also crops up if things feel unfair or if someone tells me I’m not capable of something. In business once, a man told me I didn’t have what it takes to be successful doing a certain thing…didn’t have the connections and social network because I’m a woman (he made a lot of deals on the golf course, and I do not golf). He indicated I would be a great assistant for someone. My mouth said “Oh yeah, I get it. You’re probably right.” My mind said “Fuck you. Just watch me. I will not only do it, but I will beat you by a mile”. (I did… boy did I)
Take away – sometimes stubbornness can fuel the fire to attain something to a big degree. Maybe it’s what can win revolutions or create massive social change?
So why am I so ornery and obstinate today? Fuck you – wouldn’t you like to know. Fuck me – I don’t know. I just “am”. Not every day can be sunshine and namaste. Sometimes I’m ornery…it’s Tale of Two Cities and whiplash…aren’t you sick of reading about it? I’m fucking sick of talking about it. It’s the ABCs of me baby…get over it or fuck off. (Microsoft Word just warned me my “language may be offensive to others”. Fuck off Word)
I do need sex… maybe that’s the reason for my mood. It’s the only thing I feel at this moment is really irking me. I don’t need a nine-course gourmet sex feast…junk-food sex would be fine (you know – fast, easy, lacking real substance but momentarily satisfying touch with another human being) …maybe play rolodex roulette and find some is the answer. Or is it a band-aid? Obstinateness feels similar to anger…which is higher on the emotional stick toward happy than sad. Sadness is anger turned inward. At least I’m not turning it inward.
Okay…going for fast-food. You’re thinking… food or sex? Fuck you – maybe one – maybe both. My friend Kevin is going to read this post and say “I told you no sex was not a realistic thing for you and it’s not sustainable.” Fuck you too Kevin.
Did you know when someone dies the paramedics, firefighters and police officers all leave and just leave the person there with you for the coroner’s office or the funeral home to pick up? Ambulances only transport the living. No one prepares you for that. All the things that you are supposed to do after that are supposed to magically fall into place and “happen”. They don’t.
I didn’t know what to do with Robert once I brought his ashes home from the funeral home. He has resided in my bedroom ever since…moved 3 times with me in 4 ½ years. I grieved the loss of him almost as many years as we were in relationship…that part really shocks me. I guess our standard measurement of “time” is not an appropriate measurement when it comes to how deeply a person affected you. I figured I would “know” what to do with him when the time was right. I had contemplated spreading his ashes some place he had wanted to go but had not yet been. I contemplated spreading them where he was born in Calgary, or where he spent formative years along the Columbia River…or in Malibu one of his favorite places…or where we had last traveled together that he loved very much…nothing “felt” just right.
I woke up this morning “knowing”. (No wonder I wake up exhausted so often…I work through a lot of shit while I am sleeping!) I now know where he belongs, and I feel so light and happy. I am truly done grieving. I am ready to close the chapter.
I see it has been ready to close for a little while already. His pet names for me no longer feel like they trigger anything. I can release all those messages I had saved where he told me what I meant to him and how deep his love for me was. I will share one here before I hit delete just in case I ever need to hear it one more time it will be safely tucked in here (yes, there is a small child within me that has a little fear sometimes – LOL) …
May 15th, 2017
He sent me this the month before he died. I remember saying that day “Geez – good morning to you too”. (I could have done better with my response – LOL) Words have power.
I am ready to move forward without the weight of the grief and I feel inspired about what that looks and feels like.
I am so very thankful for all that relationship taught me and the growth it gave me. Without it, I would not have been ready for and able to fully appreciate the things that come next.
I have already begun the arrangements…sent emails, had conversations…the wheels are in motion. So much accomplished and it’s only 9am on a Sunday.
This will be my last goodbye.
Time spent with my adult children nourishes my soul…I adore them. When you get all of us together it almost always results in hours of laughter. Thursday night I laughed so much my face hurt and my stomach was sure it had done 100 sit-ups. Thank goodness the place we went had outdoor seating – I’m not sure they could have handled our level of joy indoors.
One time all of us decided to go to yoga together at a new workout place that had just opened near our house. Just riding in the car together to get there had us cracking each other up, laughing and giggling so much that we burst through the door with too much exuberance causing disapproving looks from the serious folks already lined up on their mats warming up to the background of the seemingly obligatory “spa sounds music”. (Seriously folks – let’s do yoga to “real” music…stuff that moves your soul while you move your body…or silence…or an Indian raga…no “elevator music for the soul” shit). We picked our spots and laid out our mats with giggles, a few real laughs complete with one of us snorting because well, that can happen with a real laugh…which of course will make us laugh and giggle more…clearly we were going to be a disruption…the instructor (I want to call her “Lake Barbie” – we lived near a lake and she looked like a barbie with no boobs…oh yeah, that would be called really skinny) was not pleased. We looked at each other while feeling the quite strong disapproval of everyone in the room and decided we better separate a little and intersperse ourselves around, so we weren’t all next to each other. I said to the room “Sorry…we come in joy. We’ll try to bring it down to peace level.” With one of my girls shooting me a look like “Mom – nobody likes a smart-ass”.
We got down to the serious business of this yoga class. My mind wandered…I love yoga. There are so many different kinds of yoga. So many different kinds of instructors all who approach things different ways. Lake Barbie had clearly been taught one way. Oh well, she’s young…she will figure it out and evolve and flex over time…shit – now she wants to do some balancing type poses with arms and legs going out in different directions that she had clearly spent a lot of time mastering…when I first started yoga, around the age of 6, I too was made of “Gumby” type stretchy stuff – not so much as an older version of myself….oops I have an inner ear thing now too making balance not always my friend…I tipped over.
Not just tipped over and caught myself, but tipped over and into a line of exercise bikes that would later be spread around the room for a cycle session. I hit that first bike and like dominoes they all went over…oh my gosh the cacophony of noise! Which immediately made me and my daughters laugh hysterically…and made one overly serious older man who had previously shown his disgust of our joyousness get up and flat out leave…”namaste to you too sir” I thought…Lake Barbie indicated “those with less experience balancing should always choose to be near a wall”, which caused us to burst out in laughter again because I have been doing this shit since before she was born…Once we made it through the rest of the class and went back to the car between rounds of laughter we decided yoga together was probably not a good idea. One of the girls said she could never go back there, she was mortified…which made me laugh again.
Yoga is not just “moves” it’s a connection with the divine…sometimes that connection can be “in joy”.
Lots of random thoughts are rolling through my mind this morning. Please excuse my “Kerouac-ing”… I woke up this morning in the middle of swirls and waves of icky emotion and energy, so I need to figure it out. I am quite sure it won’t make sense to anyone else, so if you stopped by for funny dating encounters – today is not the day…just carry on with your other blog reading.
I cleared my room before I went to sleep because I had been mentally processing some things (or trying to). I thought I slept well, but I am not rejuvenated. I don’t remember any dreams and I woke up exactly positioned the way I fell asleep 7 hours earlier…my fitness tracker didn’t register any sleep – it says it had an error.
My energy feels jittery. Un-centered. Majorly disturbed. My mind feels the same way. Before I meditate, I need to understand this more…roll around in it…I see my client was messaging me all night – I can’t even open those yet. I have boundary problems. I understand why…combination of being an empath and having been not allowed to have them as a child. It’s fucked up. The easiest way for me to cope is to shut everyone and everything out…disconnect from myself to deal with the world and then disconnect with the world to deal with myself. That is more of a coping strategy than a healthy way of dealing with things.
There are times when I again try to balance and have boundaries without complete disconnect from anything. This is what I have been doing the last week or so. So, what is the problem? The thing that comes to mind when I be still for a moment and ask the question is… that space when I was a child where I so desperately wanted to feel loved, safe and secure. In my world “love” as a child did not feel like what I feel it “is”. What it is for me and feels like it should be… right here right now… is a calm all encompassing energetic light where you know every aspect of yourself is acceptable, desirable, and beautiful. Like the love I feel for my children…unconditional, all encompassing, mixture of respect for their soul, adoration of their essence and expression of their souls and unwavering “support”. It is an energy. A very beautiful energy.
When I was a child “love” was conditional. It came – it went – it wasn’t actually “love” it was manipulation of me through withholding of attention and acceptance. (I should note here – my mom was not guilty of this withholding and manipulation, but was trying also to feel loved herself, so had no time or knowledge of how to give it to me). Because of this, on occasion I show up in the world very energetically “needy” for “love”. And my childhood was most definitely was not “safe and secure”. I spent a lot of time while raising my children pausing to “parent myself also” so I could feel I was coming from a place of pure unconditional love and giving it freely to those around me and just “be” there steadily for them while they figured out their own true essences. I was very intentional and mindful about it. I have struggled to give it to myself – this pure unconditional love – but there are times I accomplish it…sometimes for fairly long periods of time. I think though the act of disconnecting from myself to deal with the world disrupts the flow of pure unconditional love to myself. Why would it be disconnected right now? I have spent the last week or so in intensive self-care…Yoga, meditation, energy cleansing, making appropriate energetic boundaries, thoughtfully pondering healthy choices and conscious intentions.…
My higher self says… as I ask… it’s because I have focused too much on something and there is a wanting and withholding feeling from that situation that has triggered these childhood neediness and abandonment feelings. Ouch. I just want to relax into a committed secure loving place “all in”…not have to compartmentalize. The right person and situation will not make me “want” or effort…it will flow naturally. I have to release any hope for this situation. I have to be thankful for what I have learned, because it was important. And move forward alone. In a love bubble by myself… It makes me sad, because I want to share it. The sadness will leave eventually…there isn’t much room for it in a love bubble. This “withholding” feeling is painful and causes me to disconnect from my own self and self-love, because it was a habit deeply ingrained from childhood to protect myself. I just want to frolic in joy, bliss and playfulness instead of “wantingness” and fear of abandonment…hamster wheel brain again…I had this level of intimacy before…I want it back. Every tiny glimpse of it makes my entire being crave it. I feel emotional pain. I really hate feelings….I understand they are necessary…the “nav” system of life…I have to let go of the desire I have.
[***Update: I realize I need to release old patterns and ways of thinking to move forward. Now that I’ve been able to pinpoint it, I can intentionally release it. The past does not equal the future if you quit dragging it around with you. I have to consciously choose a new response to an old trigger. I will focus on things to be thankful and grateful for and release the rest.*** ]
Okay…I guess I do feel somewhat better just sorting that out. Likely I will update these thoughts later in the day after my meditation and yoga because I don’t feel done analyzing it yet.
Another thought…I need to change the name of my blog and “who” I call myself in the blogging world. I am no longer the “Undomesticated Bitch”. I have changed. The “undomesticated” part was my wanting to be wild and free again and the “bitch” part was to take away the power of the men in my world who were calling me one…particularly in business. There has been a shift. I am softer and different…maybe even more fragile in some respects…or more acknowledging of the fragility and less fight or flight about it on some level? I don’t know what the name will evolve to yet but I feel the need for that change.
And another thought…for the last 8-10 days I have had days of waves of intense vibration and energy in my sacral chakra. This has been a recurring thing in the last 10 years or so (not every day – just blocks of time for days, weeks, months). I wish I understood it. The other day someone intentionally shared some energy with me…I was already feeling some…then “boom” powerful waves not only in the sacral chakra, but also heart and throat extending all the way through the crown chakra and down through my feet simultaneously…I had to immediately grab the counter for support so it didn’t knock me over and then sit down on the kitchen floor – for an instant before I sat down, I “saw” energetic hands on each side of my hips (where my fibro pain usually centers) running some energy in that area at one point. Does my friend know Reiki and never told me? Or was that someone else who popped in because my shields were down at that moment and I wasn’t in blocking mode? Anyway, my first instinct was to block everything (momentary panic because intense energy is usually a very bad thing) but instead, I relaxed into it and rode the delicious waves. It came and went the next couple of hours (very distracting when you are driving) but it put me in a really good feeling place energetically. People’s pets at the houses I go to for signings always like me, but on that day they were all curling up at my feet and falling asleep…each owner said their pets had never done that before…it happened four different places.
I used to try to numb myself from some of the energy I could sense with chemicals. Weed, nicotine, caffeine, sugar, for a brief block of time alcohol…not that it really helped – I was just making myself “cloudy”. Over the years I stopped doing that (I don’t want to be that person). I have a coffee in the morning – but not all day. Sometimes sugar is okay. I don’t smoke weed anymore (and actually became allergic to it), rarely drink anything alcoholic and gave up nicotine (which was really hard). When I was in NOLA, swept up in the energy of the place one night…dancing, drinking, tossing beads and singing on a balcony…being free in the moment…someone offered me weed. I said “no thanks, but I smell a clove cigarette and it really seems good to me at this moment…can I have one of those?”. Magically I was not given just one, but a whole pack of cloves to keep. It had been a million years since I had a clove…so yummy. I was instantly hooked on nicotine again (why had I not remembered that was in there? all I had thought of was the taste and smell of clove and I was swept up in the joy of dancing and singing). So I am working with that. Gently weaning myself back off. If I had smoked just the one, maybe I would have been okay…but I had a whole pack to intersperse through the rest of my stay. This is a demon I know how to fight but it doesn’t make it easier…and I’m so disappointed in myself for letting it happen. I have an addictive personality – I am aware – which is why I keep myself reigned in.
I have to deal with this client…the one who has so much bad energetic stuff going on. Today I will try to use my energy to intuit what house I should suggest she buy and to manifest the right opportunity for her challenging situation. That is my intention.
Yeah – I know…I’m all over the place this morning and can’t seem to settle in to meditate. All of this is supposed to be happening…I just need to surrender to it.
Another thought… Words have power. And energy. They have the most constructive power – the ability to change someone’s life at times – when spoken out loud. It’s important to use your words to convey to people you encounter in your life, work and basically everywhere your understanding, appreciation, acceptance, and love of them. You may think they “know” these things and they don’t need to be said. That’s not true. Today is my youngest daughter’s birthday. I will take a moment to intentionally give her the words she needs to hear she may not even know she needs to hear. [***Update: this made her very happy. She feels loved, supported and valued 🥳.]
After meditation, I pulled a couple cards to see what the Universe would like to tell me today. I got Temperance and the three of Pentacles. My understanding from those cards is; First card: Don’t do drastic right now. No “all or nothing” choices. Slow down the desire for excess in any one area right now. Clearing energy of extremes allows for more flow. Blending energies, appreciating moderation, creating harmony, masculine and feminine balance, fluidity of time, meditation, accept the perpetual motion of life, neutrality, restraint, patience and purpose. For the second card: Step into the vibration of conscious collaboration. Relationships are the base of your well-being and co-creating for the good of the whole is powerful magic. There is no limit to what you can manifest together. Align goals and create peaceful unions. Welcome people into your heart and open doors of possibility that didn’t exist before. When life paths are entwined, strive to create harmonic states as you weave your way out of one another’s days. Cooperation, sharing, listening, co-creation, teamwork, unique essences blending energies to create something totally new. I’m going to have to sit with that…let it sink in a bit before I untangle it more…or show some “patience and restraint” and just let it be…
All is well…I’m messy 🤷♀️ at least I’m ”real”.
A friend messaged me asking why I don’t ever share about the “energetic empath thing” – this is the first they’ve heard. The reason I don’t talk about it here regularly is because it didn’t feel important. That sounds silly seeing it typed out – but really, it isn’t…it’s like the fact I have hazel eyes. Irrelevant. It’s like breathing…I don’t announce that either – here I am…breathing in and out again – LOL.
Another person said something yesterday along the lines of that I do take the weight of the world and I’m an “amazing” empath and the energy work you do helps us all. This confused me a little. I have not heard the “weight of the world” thing since I was a child…my parents used to say that all the time. (Do I still do it? Is it really that obvious? Or is that just something you say?) My next thought was, how do you know I’m “amazing”? Most likely I am very mediocre. And what I do clearing houses is equivalent to picking up garbage you see when you are walking on the beach so we all have a cleaner place to live…it’s nothing really. Don’t we all have a responsibility to do little unselfish things to make something better?
Everything is comprised of energy, and we all feel it to varying degrees whether we are conscious of it or not. Being extra sensitive to energy is just like having hazel eyes – you didn’t ask for it, you can’t change it…it just IS. When I was a child, my parents noticed things…weird little quirky things…about my behavior because of it. Like they found me holding an injured bird, staring intently at it. When they asked me what I was doing with it, I told them I was giving the bird all my love inside so it wouldn’t be hurting anymore (Yeah, I was a weird kid). They also noticed that when my mom had an alcoholic beverage, I got tipsy. That really got them intrigued…they started trying to test it all the time and experimented with it. It amused them. (It did not feel amusing to me). I was a “worrier” and was always concerned with everyone being “okay”. Grandparents, parents, all adults used to say, “Why does she carry the weight of the world on her shoulders?”. (Which actually put bad visuals in my head…world on top of me sort of thing). My stepdad often said I was too sensitive, and I needed to “toughen up” (I did toughen up…and that was not really the right choice… but ensured I survived childhood I guess). I couldn’t let people sit on my bed or wear my clothes – it changed the energy. I would borrow other people’s clothes so I could hang out in their energy if I was having a rough time at home (but of course didn’t have a clue how to really verbalize that, so never explained). There you go…now I have “shared”. Happy? LOL
I’m pretty sure my mom was an empath too. And so was Robert (fiancé that died). I was so angry with him for not coming to hang out with me energetically after he died. I needed more time with him. There was just one day when I felt like I had a whole-body energetic hug…or maybe that was my imagination. All I ever got was his voice in my head saying “That would only make it harder” even though I promised I wouldn’t let it…my mom came to hang out after she passed. Not for a long time…but enough. We had promised each other whoever died first would come back and tell the other the answers to all the questions we had – like is reincarnation really a thing? When we visited, of course it was no longer – at that exact moment -important to know everything and we laughed about that and let all that stuff go. The only thing I needed to know was that she was okay and not “stuck” somewhere due to being murdered.
You know I don’t actually miss Robert the person as much anymore…that’s really a good thing. I just miss the deep soul connection/partnership thing. I actually know a lot of people. But only a few really know “me”. Even the ones I’ve known for over 30 years only know the small slice I show them…isn’t it weird how few people ever scratch beyond the surface of things? The circle of people I regularly spend time with is so small…I could probably fit all of them in my powder room at the same time. But then again, I guess that has been my choice.
After much rest, some positive energy teleported my way from a friend, and a three hour sound bath and meditation, all my fibro symptoms have receded and I am back to normal 😁.
Well – I’m off to the dentist to have some work done. If you think of it, please send me love and light. Going to the dentist to have work done is my most horrible thing…I would rather have a child natural childbirth…survive a car accident….confront a burglar….time in the dental chair gives me a level of fear and anxiety that can take days to get over! (But I’m being brave anyway…)
The internal storm is over (for the moment). I can open up my little turtle shell and make my blog public again. Who knew I was a turtle? I thought my spirit animal was a dolphin. I don’t write for “the public”. I write for myself. It’s the way I sort and process…especially emotions. I do believe however that everyone struggles with some of the same stuff to a degree. If I share my journey and thoughts, maybe…just maybe… it can make someone else somewhere feel like they are not alone if they struggle with the same things. It will take a little while to restore everything, but I am okay, and everything is fine…I can come back out of the shell.
Scanning my 247 new emails this morning, I caught “You’re a match!”. My heart stopped for a second…WTF? I am not on any dating sites anymore! Upon closer inspection, it was a “match” for a new credit card…Geez – don’t need any of those either…
Today I am craving physical touch so incredibly badly. It’s been more than a month since I’ve had sex and it’s been on my mind for more than 24 hours in a big way (mostly due to one harmless little word). I know, you’re thinking go pleasure yourself – problem solved. I did – it isn’t. I guess it human nature to need the touch of other humans. We certainly need it as infants and children – there is that whole “failing to thrive” thing. Well, I “fail to thrive” as an adult without it too. I do know if ignore it long enough it will eventually go away, and I will be back to my sexless self again. I should go outside and bust my ass working in the yard. Let the physical work wear me out and sweat the demons out…but I can’t. The fibro flareup won’t allow that today. Besides, we are back to cold and damp Seattle weather…picture sweaty drowned rat look…not my best…and I do have that attractive single neighbor…I caught him looking at my ass when I was on a ladder trimming hedges…it was a little awkward, but we have moved past it. Weirdly enough he left me a bottle of wine one day after that…was that a message I should invite him over to drink it? I never know what things mean unless someone tells me…socially I feel very obtuse.
I could text the ex-Buddhist monk…he is an interesting situation. We agreed we would have sex just once, but then we did get together again…he wrote an entire book that was a cross between an autopsy of the relationship that failed and forever broke his heart and a love letter to the woman who broke it…it’s available for free digitally on Amazon. Imagine a love that deep…but he is also an INTJ – so I do know he had to write it just to process it. Still, it touched my heart. I still have a copy on my phone, although I have not read it again. Sex is one of the few ways I can completely get out of my own head…just focusing on sensation…a girl does need a break from constant thinking! I am 99% sure he would be down…I just heard that Marion Hill song in my head “Down”… are you down? Are you down? Are you d.d.d.down? LOL! He does understand my need to be physical because we are both wired that way…we will see.
I could also text the drug smuggling operation ex-con guy. I am pretty sure he would not ask for or want any explanation…I could say “Sex?” and the answer would be “Yes”. The last thing in the world I need though is for 4 ½ weeks guy to drive by and see my car since they live in the same neighborhood. He would be the type to come banging on the door demanding to know why I was stalking him by fucking a neighbor. Yes, that’s the way the crazy thinks.
There is also that guy who keeps texting me every few days even though I don’t respond…but he is an unknown. I’m not really in the mood for the unknown. I would text my fuck buddy – but he has certainly done enough for me this week – enough is enough, besides he needs more notice.
Maybe I should just get on the exercise bike…no, my body won’t cooperate. Maybe the answer is pancakes. I’ve been such a mess I’m pretty sure I haven’t eaten more than 1000 calories a day all week…this is where I come back around to missing my guy that died. He used to “love rub” me to sleep every night and make sure I ate…Fuck. I don’t have a “lizard brain”. I have a “hamster on a wheel” brain…always coming back around to him and the life we had. I used to live in a multi-million-dollar home and drive a Bentley Flying Spur. Now I live in a rental house and drive a Prius. Life changes. We adapt…or so we should…sometimes I do for a minute.
I am going to try and leave my phone alone…no texting for sex…I will do laundry, change the sheets, re-watch a good movie…be good. I tried to “be good” yesterday and read, but next thing you know I’m reading erotica all day (thanks to Naughty Nora and all the blogs she follows!). I think pancakes really might help…
The last few weeks have been interesting. That’s my way of saying it’s been a shit show…
I don’t think I have ever shared it here, but I have fibromyalgia. I have learned to keep it under control. If I eat right, listen to my body and rest when needed, meditate, do yoga, keep the stress levels down…it is pretty well controlled now. So well controlled I haven’t had any serious flareups actually for years. I even forget I have it sometimes until it flares up and knocks me on my ass – which is what happened this week. It makes me unable to sleep, yet I’m exhausted and my body hurts…my joints hurt, especially my hips, and there is a gnawing pain on the inside of my bones (I know how bizarre that sounds and every doctor I have ever described that to has looked at me like I am absolutely insane). It is triggered by stress.
I also don’t think I have shared here that I am an energetic empath. I can walk into a house and tell you if the people that lived there were happy or not… among other things. In my real estate career, I have mostly worked for institutions selling their foreclosed homes. I prefer to work for banks or government organizations because they don’t deal in emotion. You do your job and do it well and everything is good. Of course, there is emotional energy left in the houses, but I have learned how to deal with that. I energetically protect myself before going in. (Don’t roll your eyes and think I’m a whacko…everything on the planet is comprised of energy and it affects everything else – we can debate it another day). I also feel I have a responsibility to clear the house of negative stuff before it gets new people. Before I started doing that, you would be amazed how history would repeat itself. A divorce house would have another divorce, etc. One house I experienced what it felt like to be an elderly person with dementia – I would feel dizzy and confused…that one was extra hard to clear – as was one of the suicide houses I had.
The past few months I have been working with a client who needs to sell her house and buy another house. Not only has my bank business gone dead thanks to COVID, but I actually sold her parents the house she lives in 25 years ago, so I am both honored and obligated to assist. The problem is both her parents died there, she is a drug addict with an adult aged brother who is a complete shut-in and has never had a job, she is unemployed, they have never really lived anywhere else – so moving is traumatic, she has an infant and a boyfriend who is absolutely worthless as far as helping her with anything…and the house is packed full of stuff. The dad died in the yard while mowing the grass when the kids were teens, and the mom died recently of cancer. There is so much emotion with all of that…and it has taken a toll on me. One of the things about working with real people instead of an institution is they text you at night, on the weekends, 7 days a week…you don’t get a break from their drama or needs. I will absolutely see this through. I am mid-way through, but oh my gosh… it is exhausting. I also have a couple of other clients right now that are people and not institutions.
My second business involves being sent by an escrow company to people’s homes to help them sign their loan documents on home purchases or refinances. This job can involve weird hours and you get paid per signing – so you never know really over the course of a month, how much you will make. I started this business March of 2020 because I knew I would need extra income with the lockdown happening and of course moratoriums on evictions and foreclosures were going to dramatically affect my business and my ability to meet my obligations.
I recently thought it sounded like a good idea to take a third job. I decided to become a casino dealer. That would enable me to work in the middle of the night, weekends and holidays – and I thought it might actually be fun helping other people have fun. There is much more to being a casino dealer than you would think…so much to learn!! Not only did I forget I had fibro, but I also forgot about being an empath. Casinos are very loud and noisy, and jam packed with emotion (mostly desperate emotion). As a dealer, you have to yell out things to the floor supervisor and pit – “Suited match $350 out $25 up!”, “Black in play!”, “Cash change $500, 5 black out!”. I do not even like to raise my voice, much less “yell”. I hate to admit it…I am too old for three jobs. And the casino environment is too much for me energetically.
We also got COVID in the house a couple weeks ago. My daughter’s partner Julia got it from a client at the waxing salon during a lip wax. I was so afraid my daughter would come down with it…she has an immune disease, and the virus could for sure kill her. We were all immunized, but Julia caught it anyway. It was an extra stressful couple of weeks with Julia in isolation in one room and everyone masking inside the house and me disinfecting common surfaces constantly and getting tested multiple times. I can confidently say now that particular storm has passed. Julia has recovered, and my daughter and I did not get it.
Also, I really did quit all the dating sites. I announced – to no one in particular – the Universe will have to send me the right person another way. I am not built for the way people interact on dating sites. Someone who read my blog asked to communicate via email, so I did. We shared very personal stories, connected very quickly and for a moment I thought “Wow – the Universe listened and managed to send me someone without a dating site!” I gave him my real cell phone number…if you google it, you know who I am, where I work, my home address…everything. Then he disappeared without a trace. That really freaked me out. I had even joked with him about not wanting to become a cautionary tale for next season’s Lifetime movie channel. Disappeared – with him now having the ability to know exactly who I am and where I am and knowing everything about me because I share here openly all my “stuff”. And I don’t really know that he is who he said he is…I probably never shared this here before either, but my mom was murdered when she was 49. People are not always who they seem to be. It can be a very scary world out there. So… there is that stress.
Combining the stress of the three jobs, the stress of the sickness in the house, the drain of dealing with real people energetically, all the stress the dating sites and dating has put on me…I had a physical and emotional meltdown. It started with not being able to sleep even though I was exhausted. So, in the middle of the night one night, I texted Tom (usually referred to as my fuck buddy, my daddy dom, or my hotel boy). I texted “awake?”. He was not. A couple hours later he texted back that he had just gotten up and was getting ready for work and was sorry he hadn’t been awake when I texted. I didn’t respond…I hadn’t yet realized what my problem was (fibro and empathetic crap) and in the light of day couldn’t tell him the barrage of stuff I was feeling. In the middle of the night, we have had some really meaningful exchanges that were very comforting. There is something about baring your soul in the dark on a sleepless night that is safer than in the harsher morning light. Besides, he had work to do…I had work to do…
Later at the end of the day between appointments I had an hour I needed to kill before my last appointment. With traffic it didn’t make sense to go home, so I parked in a parking lot and thought I might play Scrabble on my phone or something and kill the time. I felt guilty for not responding to Tom’s morning response to me, so I texted him back that I was glad my text didn’t wake him up – it was just an existential crisis – no biggie! With and upside-down emoji to lighten it up. He immediately texted back, “Fuck! (wide eyed emoji) Talk to me” “Call me” and then he promptly called me before I could say “no worries, I’m fine”. I wasn’t fine. I burst into tears and told him I wasn’t okay working three jobs, and I don’t know why I’m crying, and do you think everything is random or things happen for a reason? And I don’t want to cry to you, and I have nothing really to say…all while sobbing. Fuck – what a basket case, right? He said, “I wish I was there to wrap my arms around you”, “Where are you?” I explained I was in a parking lot waiting for 6pm to meet with people and their interpreter for a signing, no I wasn’t driving. He said “I’m just going to be with you here in your feelings. Cry, talk…whatever you need to do…I’m just here with you. Imagine my arms around you, holding you.” You have no idea how comforting and supportive that felt, while at the same time a little embarrassing. I told him I didn’t want to just sit there crying and saying nothing – wasting his time because I couldn’t explain why I was such a mess. He reassured me that it was okay…just be…there is nowhere else he wanted or needed to be and he was just going to sit with me in my sadness. We talked a little between my sobs. I told him how tired I was and about COVID in the house and how three jobs might be too many and how I miss life with a real partner and how I feel like nobody seems to see the value in me and what I might bring to a relationship – I feel discounted and discarded. He reassured me that everyone is having extra stress right now and everything will be okay…a lot of empaths are talking about how much loneliness and sadness people are experiencing right now. (Which later – like a light bulb – reminded me I am an empath, and I am absorbing my client’s energy and the casino energy – duh!) I pulled myself together and he got me laughing a bit before I had to go to my appointment, and I jokingly promised not to burst into tears in front of the Chinese people and their interpreter. He had me feeling better. He checked on me after the appointment too.
That night, still not sleeping – but feeling emotionally better remembering why I was so overwhelmed – the fibro pain set in. I spent the next few days mostly in bed. I would get up, pull on some clothes, do a signing, come back home, strip down and get back in bed. I’m still doing that…Trying to rest and get things back under control. I did sleep 5 hours last night, so I’m doing better. The pain is starting to subside some parts of the day. I am getting better. Tom and I have also talked a little more and that has been really good. He has told me not to question if I am thin enough, pretty enough, smart enough – I am enough and I am a wonderful woman in every sense and I should ignore any fucker who makes me feel otherwise. He has reassured me (even though I didn’t ask for it) that he will always be around for me…” friends forever”. We have talked about dating site stress, how people are “Goldilocks-ing” … only giving each person 30 second to impress them that they are the right fit and there are 7 more amazing sounding people lined up to talk to and how it’s hard to maneuver the social world right now. (When the word “Goldilocks-ing” catches on and everyone starts using it, I know where it originated). I also asked him what special ingredient I am missing that would ever make him see me as more than a “friend”. He honestly didn’t know…and I am actually okay with that. The last week he has been my rock and my soft place to land at the same time and I appreciate him more than ever. Right now, I feel very content in his brand of friendship. I’m still free to experience other people, other relationships…but he is there…not going anywhere. That is comforting. We are all works in progress.
I’m going to spend the weekend taking bubble baths, meditating, doing yoga and napping.
Recap of the month…
In no particular order…
I met a man who seemed somewhat promising. We were able to have great conversation. Turns out he is a cross-dresser. I really tried to be open minded about this…I was working on it. I did some reading, asked some questions…I do not think I can really be sexually attracted to a man that likes to dress in women’s clothing. Does that make me a bad human? As it worked out, he has some trouble getting and maintaining an erection and he thinks I’m too fat (ouch!). Not a match after all – that was several weeks wasted.
Reconnected with my fuckbuddy for a playdate…Thank you Universe for that. I really do like him. It’s sad he doesn’t see more for “us”. There is no “us”. He has “a lot going on”. I’ve never even been to his house…he always gets a hotel (No, he is not married). Hotel sex is fun in its own way…
There was a man that reached out who is much older than I would normally consider…wanted me to marry him and move to his ranch…umm “No thank you”, we don’t even know each other… Maybe we should have a date first? He wanted to” chase me around the barn” and even decided which room in his ranch would be my office (I think that’s the 3rd or 4th marriage semi-proposal in the last 30 days?).
I also connected for an evening with a guy who asked more questions about the 4 ½ weeks guy than about me (weird right?). This guy had talked to that guy about real estate – they live in the same neighborhood and that’s how this guy and I had initially exchanged numbers – over a potential real estate deal. He invited me over for a steak BBQ. He was very handsome and fit and had a truly gorgeous, well-proportioned, big, thick, cock (not a premediated “sex” date…just worked out that way…I am a “go with the flow” person). It turns out he spent 20 years in prison for running a drug smuggling operation in the 90’s – it was all very sordid and involved a cartel and woman he was dating who tried to get his sentence reduced by being a wired informant. He didn’t tell me – but I googled and discovered. I knew this before the steak dinner… I had wondered if he would tell me. I wonder now if he is planning some sort of scam on 4 1/2 weeks guy to get his house and plane? I might be flypaper for freaks.
Also had dinner with a man that was the tiniest man I have ever met. Seriously. His pictures looked “normal” but his entire frame and stature was really tiny. Nice guy…well, he did ghost me after the dinner, so maybe not that nice…although I now have a new favorite place to get amazing tacos. He asked me if I knew my dating profile was “intimidating”. Yeah, that’s me…LOL. One guy reached out the other day about my profile and said,” I might have just fallen in love. I think you’re something else. When can we have our first date? You are right up my alley. Sign me up!” Since his profile basically said nothing, I responded with something to the effect of “Tell me more about yourself”. That scared him away. I am completely fierce!
I’ve said it before… no more dating sites for me. No more dates. Maybe just one more time with the fuckbuddy, so I can end on a somewhat (at least sexually) positive note…then spend the rest of forever alone…sexless…working out so I don’t ever be perceived as “too fat”. Society has set all of us women up for failure with a fucked up culture of body image. Maybe no – to the one more time with FB, it always makes me want more of him and wonder why he doesn’t want more…he isn’t seeing anyone else…what secret ingredient am I missing that he wants/needs?
I have been riding a stationary recumbent bike doing 6-12 miles a day (binge watched all of the seasons of Californication doing that). Yesterday, I rented a Lime (that is an electric assist bicycle you can rent and ride around various parts of Seattle). I did lots of miles yesterday (15) and now have the worst pain in my nether regions from the seat! I wonder if that passes with time (like when you ride horses often) or if I need padded pants to continue riding a regularly positioned bike. And what is that?? Bruising? Why do I not remember that from riding bikes in my childhood?
I had a headache for 48 hours and then a toothache…got tested for COVID again (negative), the testing is now much more civilized by the way. But as a positive, when I called my dentist’s office in tears to ask for an emergency visit, I did schedule a cleaning and check-up. I get to leave the house at an un-godly early hour on Wednesday to be there.
I had a horrible nightmare last night. It involved someone’s male, computerized voice coming through my Alexa, the lights not working and an abduction of a woman from my garage (where the door was open and the lights were on) and he said he would be back for me…I don’t often have dreams that wake me up in fear. Not sure what to make of it. I actually don’t usually feel fear…I lived through some truly terrifying real things in my real life so it takes a lot to give me fear now. Then the TV turned itself on early this morning very loud, downstairs in the family room (no it was not paused and no one was awake and up) – I have no idea what that was about either…maybe the ghost of my fiancé turned it on to scare away the bad guy whose voice I dreamed came through my Alexa hours earlier? It’s going to take all day to shake the weirdness of all that.
Happy Monday…the beginning of the rest of my alone and sexless life.
When it was first suggested to me someone’s kink was to be “Daddy” to a “Little Girl”, honestly – my first response in my mind was “Eewwwe”, “No Thank you – I am a full-grown woman”. I had to ask a million questions…because well… that’s who I am. I had learned of this preference/kink after some amazing sex with this person…seriously he could make me orgasm by just massaging my butt or ever so gently running his fingers around on my back and sides in circles – it’s like all the nerve endings in my entire body are alive and wired for his touch – it’s crazy!
Daddy issues…Some of us legitimately have them. I know I do…abandonment, abuse – it’s not pretty. I had to ask him, “Does this mean you fantasize about having sex with a child? Or someone not age-appropriate? Does it mean you want to have sex with your niece? – The answer was “No” “It’s just the situation in my mind when I am having sex/play time”.
Upon asking a truly annoying number of questions, and then following up with my own research, I found this style of “Dom” is just that…another form of dominance and play. The sex was so good with him, I decided to play along. I figured, since I called my own fathers “Father or Step-Father or “Dad” – never “Daddy” (we didn’t ever have that kind of soft child-parent relationship), that I could call this man “Daddy” during sex and not feel like I was engaging in an incestuous relationship. Jokes about rationalization aside (I just heard Jeff Goldblum’s voice in my head “Rationalizations – we all need them. You can’t get through the day without at least one good juicy one”), I am glad I did. Although my initial hesitation and research period may have hurt his feelings – which I would never want to do – I always want to be respectful of another person’s kink…it is so deeply personal. It was a wise decision to play with it and has felt actually healing in some ways.
Engaging in this type of D/s play is so kind and loving – when you have a kind and loving “Daddy”. It took me to places I didn’t know I needed. I know some people carry it to an extreme that I for sure would not be comfortable with – but to allow him to be completely in charge, to just do as he asked, relinquish any control or concerns and just be in the moment…feeling sensation… while cherished and cared for, felt so good. Soft, kind, loving, supportive…it felt almost as if I had been given some protection and care I needed on a deep level that I didn’t even know I needed. I actually cried after orgasm with this man on two occasions – and I am not a crier – and have never ever cried during or after sex with anyone else! I told him I did not understand what it was about and that I was not sad or anything. He just wrapped me up in his big arms and said “It’s okay baby girl. You just had some stuff pent up that needed to be released. You’re okay.” This type of domination feels more “protective” and “loving” than other shades of domination and the submission is slightly different also. The words “Baby girl”, “Sweetheart” and “Punkin’ ” create a different feeling for me now – whereas before, they would have made me bristle…I don’t have to be “strong”. I can feel like I am allowing someone “to take care of me”.
As with any good Dom, he can be completely in tune with your body and knows what you need even when you don’t…it’s an art…” I am the instrument and he is the musician” is the best way to sum it up.
(Silently wishing a “Happy Birthday” to my Daddy Dom…)
Random thoughts rolling around in my head today…
A million years ago (or when I was in my 20’s – your choice), I thought when you find the person to spend your life with everything would somehow magically work out. Obviously, that was an child-like assumption. As I got older, I saw there are so many facets to each person, it is really very challenging to have one person to meet all your needs…mentally, emotionally, physically, sexually. Maybe that’s why some cultures are accepting of a married person having a lover on the side?
During and after my divorce, I actually filled the various needs each with different people. This was working fairly well for me, although I lacked a sense of “home” – one person who was your emotional, mental, physical, sexual “safety net”. Ultimately, I had to rely on myself… we all do to some degree I suppose. Then I stumbled across someone who was able to meet most of my needs most of the time. That was surprising and wonderful… and I didn’t need other people to fill the roles. After he died, I realize he left me with renewed hope of that “wholeness” being more attainable. Who knows if it would have been sustainable for an entire lifetime? I do know he would have tried his best and I would have also.
Is the concept of marriage outdated if you aren’t creating children? I’d like to think not. A good marriage is a good partnership where the people publicly and privately support one another in all aspects of life. We are built that way. Wired for interdependence. So now I’m back to how is one person supposed to meet all the facets of who you are and what you need? Either you are lucky and someone intuitively knows, senses, and sees what you need and is not only willing – but eager – to give it to you, or you spend time feeling frustrated, not understood and trying to teach someone what you need.
I could have a person for intellectual conversation, another for sharing emotional stuff, another for companionship and camaraderie, another for hot kinky sex that lasts for hours…and rely on myself for financial stability. But honestly after having the whole package (or 90% of it), it’s really hard to look down the barrel of a remaining life without it. Having different people for different things just feels more hollow now. So… that leaves trying to teach someone to be what you need. Just the thought of that sentence is exhausting. They also have to be wanting to learn and you have to learn what they need too. And of course, the thing you can’t even teach is to have someone who is “thirsty” to be with you…they can’t get enough of you just being you…which makes you not be able to get enough of them…maybe that is not repeatable? Maybe that chunk will forever be missing?
I haven’t even checked the dating site lately or responded to notifications of messages, but strangely I am bumping into a lot of opportunities and invitations to engage with others anyway. But rather than my usual “seize the day” attitude, I’m pausing…weighing out the pros and cons…evaluating the potential for that being my forever “home” – now mind you most likely these opportunities and invitations are not yet considering the possibility of being one another’s “forever home”, they are just playing the game of filling needs and living for the moment. Then there is the guy I keep “playing house with” in my mind… I want to rearrange his furniture and clean everything and imagine myself a part of it…but it’s not my space to do that in. Am I maturing and evolving? Or just making myself crazy?
Why is everything so complicated? I have had quite a few “forever” invitations in the past few years, but I seem to be holding out…I don’t just want to “be married”. I want passion, love, lust, security, safety…I want it all. I feel like age-appropriate men aren’t willing to give it all. Or maybe they don’t have it all to give? I have to break down walls, spend time teaching, and try to inspire passion? All while trying not be shamed for my sex drive or kinky appetite they may or may not understand – sex is truly important to me. I wish I were younger. I would be so much better at it now.
Maybe the whole “one person” paradigm truly is outdated? Maybe our society is in the middle of an evolution? Maybe I’m too much in my head and I need to just go have hot, kinky sex for an afternoon and forget about the bigger picture? (There you are dirty girl…I’ve missed you)
Why are dungeons called dungeons? That sounds so…dank, dark, dirty and unhappy. I hereby vote to change the name of dungeons that do not have a moat, drawbridge and dragon, to “playrooms”. That sounds happier to me.
Why do men who want to be dominated seem to be drawn to me lately? As a woman business owner, it is not uncommon to have the appearance of being “in charge” and being comfortable in that role. Strong women it seems, however, often prefer to be submissive sexually. Guys should know this and not look to us to be the dominant. It is most likely the soft, mild-mannered, mousy seeming women who would like to take charge sexually. Or maybe all the personality stereotypes have nothing to do with anything and my observations are merely coincidental!
Lately, I meet a guy and pretty quickly I can tell he wants me to dominate him…heavy sigh. My attitude is someone has to take the lead…either lead or move the fuck over and I will. I get very tired of trying to teach or train a lover to dominate me. So lately, I’m trying to embrace it…maybe the Universe wants me to domme for a while. Maybe there is something to be gained. Maybe I have been the submissive in relationships for too long. I do feel that since I know how a sub thinks and experiences things, maybe that gives me insight into good domination. You may call me Mistress Undomesticated Bitch – LOL (Or Mistress UB for short). Actually, as much as I want to say “just shut the fuck up” lately, maybe this is a good fit – I shall invest in some gags. Understand though, dominating is tiring…you have to think many moves ahead and it means a significant amount of time on your feet in heels.
On a recent trip to NOLA, I was introduced to the concept of “cuddle parties”. New Orleans is so gritty it doesn’t seem like a cuddle party place – LOL. Apparently, they are not new and exist everywhere. I have no interest in cuddles. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a soft, squishy kind of girl who “cuddles”. Get yourself a teddy bear and move along….as far as the gritty atmosphere of NOLA, I appreciate it’s dark, sexy undertones and it is fun to dress sexy and wear a mask – which is completely 100% acceptable there! My next stop on my summer travel tour will be Vegas. Predictable sexiness there…mostly polished up, in your face, glamorized, sexy. After Vegas, in August, will be Alaska. Not sure what kind of sexiness is up there, but most likely involves plaid of some kind – LOL. I will keep you posted.
It has been a couple weeks since I blogged an update. Nebulizer breathing treatments, first dates, a wedding and a funeral sums it up if you are in a hurry.
I am sincerely hoping for some allergy relief sometime before the next frost. Maybe I should move…would they be better in another state or country? I’m still up in the air with work and on a break from my volunteer work. I am literally trying to put my oxygen mask on first right now.
I have had a handful or so of first dates in the last couple weeks…It is so disappointing to have good conversations on-line and on the phone, then meet the person and have no chemistry face to face. It seems like things are all lined up and good…you have things in common, you’re laughing, sharing stories…then blah face to face…nothing…and they look 10-15 years older than they did in their pictures. Can I have the guy you used to be please?
I am pretty sure Mercury is in retrograde again…so maybe that’s why the dates lately are extra bad. Twice in the last month someone I kissed has orgasmed in their pants…WTF?! The first one, I was embarrassed for him…a little flattered…but two?! No…there has to be an issue with some guys my age. Maybe it’s been so long since they had physical interaction, they are like teenaged boys just losing their shit with the least little bit of attention. Maybe they need to spend more time with their hand before going out into the dating world again? I just can’t. I have no words. Remember me? I like sex for hours. This isn’t going to work.
Then there was one guy who bit my lip during a kiss…I mean bit my lip hard and wouldn’t let go…I was saying “ouch, ouch, Owwweeee!” This guy just kept biting harder – pulling my lip away from my face and drawing blood. It was swollen for days. I made a joke about my safe word – but holy shit this guy was weird. Upon further discussion, he has a permanent bag attached to his side due to Chron’s Disease and I swear was probably at least 10 years older than he said he was. Then he ghosted me (not that I wanted more interaction). Maybe the bite was somehow his way of expressing frustration? Why are you out on a date if you can’t behave?
Then there was the guy who prayed quietly to himself before we ate…Oy Vey. There are guys who have their lives all orchestrated and laid out just the way they want them waiting to insert the woman they want…It’s weird – the furniture choices, tending to their flowers, everything “just so” – don’t want any changes…just want to insert woman here in their little world. Others seem to have no life…live with a relative, nothing of their own really…I guess just waiting to be picked and inserted into a woman’s perfectly choreographed little world. Whatever happened to each person having a life and then wanting to combine them into something even better and more interesting? My life is not well choreographed. It’s messy and ever changing. And I have this feeling that at any moment I might just pick up and leave and go somewhere totally random and start over again… so who knows where I will even be next year. People my age are weird. And not weird in a good way.
I just got back from a road trip to the other side of the state for a wedding. It would be so fun to be in my 20’s again with the knowledge and wisdom I have now…I kept all my cynicism, advice and wisdom to myself all weekend. I interacted with ex in-laws. I was nice when others weren’t. Just for fun, I checked my Tinder while I was there to see if the puddle of age-appropriate men was any better there…more of the same, just in a different location. I also scoped the wedding looking for age-appropriate single men. Didn’t find any. I figure the Universe will throw the right person in my path at some point, so I have an obligation to be on the lookout!
I am headed to a funeral next. It’s in San Francisco. My brother’s wife…it’s sad. I uniquely know how he feels and the journey he is beginning through grief. I suspect he will traverse it a lot more gracefully than I did. Is it wrong to scope a funeral for a potential date/future partner? Grief is something that never really goes away. You just learn to live with it differently. I still miss Robert. Especially when I have had to deal with unpleasant people – he always had my back, or when I’m driving hundreds of miles – we did that together so many times and had so much fun doing it, or when I remember how it feels to be completely loved and adored by someone and miss it so much… anyway I didn’t think my first post covid flight would be to a funeral.
I wonder if its possible to overdose on Zyrtec…my allergies are just so damn bad. I just googled that – yes – you can, so don’t. Fuck. I had upped my dose to two and was also throwing in a Claritin for good measure. I would say the solution would be bolt the doors – don’t go out until the cottonwood is gone, but when I went to the kitchen to get my coffee this morning, I found cottonwood floating on the hardwood floor under the kitchen table and also on the edge of my favorite cup. Its in the house now from people and dogs going in and out. I chose a bad time to let the housekeeper go.
I’ve been having weird dreams. (Probably from the allergy meds?) My dreams have always been a place where I could resolve some issues on my mind, explore new ideas and how they might play out, and sometimes have been the source of inspiration. This morning I was dreaming about roles we play in our lives. We all take on a “role” at various times. For instance, as “wife” or “mother”.
My earliest “role” I can remember was at about age four. I took on the role of my mother’s protector. She had divorced my bio dad a couple years earlier, met who would become my stepdad, was deep into the whole “hippie thing” and somehow, I realized she was not the adult in charge, so I had to be. She had me when she was 19, so she was still kind of a child in many ways. I realized I failed in that role when I was 7 and she was rushed to the hospital after attempting suicide. That morning I took on a new role, my baby brother’s caretaker. It would maybe be easier to protect him since he didn’t have access to drugs and stay up past my bedtime.
Over the course of my life, I have had many roles. Daughter, mother, sister, grand-daughter, wife, fiancé, salesperson, mentor, business coach, volunteer, divorcee, widow… I’m feeling momentarily lost. I don’t have a “role” that I am embracing at this precise moment in time. I am still a “mother”, but my children are adults. Real adults, with careers, houses, cars, etc. and they take their own advice and dish some out to me… I’m not actively “mothering”. I’m not a grandmother. I am no one’s wife or fiancé. I am not even anyone’s “girlfriend” technically. I no longer have my government contract for my business…so I am no longer a “HUD LLB”. Which has been my identity in my business world the last decade plus. I’m taking a momentary break from my volunteer duties to put my own oxygen mask on first (although I was asked to go to Baton Rouge yesterday and almost went) – so at this moment “volunteer” is not an active role for me. I have no role. I am nobody, nowhere, doing nothing.
I guess this is an opportunity to define my next role. I just don’t know what it is. I can’t retire – I have no retirement…I was going to fix that in the next five years with my government contract that I no longer have… Who am I? Aren’t I way too fucking old to still be asking that question?
Also I recently heard somewhere (some podcast – no clue which one) that you have to “make room” for the person you want in your life – you know to be sharing your life with…. you need to be clear on what you want their role to be and what yours is. If you are completely self-sufficient and do all things in your life for yourself, there is no room for anyone to add to or bring things to the table other than companionship. Companionship you can have with a dog. This idea of making space…from having space in the closet for their clothes to having a role for them to fill is interesting to me. I have never – almost never – had a clearly defined desired role for my partner. When I wanted to get married and have children, I wanted a partner who could impregnate me (Very low bar…). Just prior to meeting the person who would become my fiancé I wanted a physical protector. He filled that role (My ex had become a stalker – bad story for another day). Other than that, I have never had clearly defined roles I asked to be filled…I always felt responsible for doing everything.
So, if I play pretend for a moment…imagining I can place my order for whatever I want…maybe it looks something like this: I would like the role of permanent partner to someone who could take care of me. (Fuck that would be a nice change). I could be free to do yoga, write, explore the world without worry. He could provide financial stability, explore the world with me, protect me, appreciate me…. we could just adore each other. In other words, I guess I still want the Disney princess storyline all little girls are subliminally promised. Which makes me hear my stepdad’s words in my brain “Prince charming is not coming. He does not exist. No one is charging in on a white stallion to rescue you.” He also didn’t allow me to believe in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. He didn’t believe in “lying to children” but instead felt they should have the cold, hard, truth.
The women’s movement did some positive things. But it also caused some harm that needs correcting. We, as women, need to know we can do anything and everything. It needs to be acceptable for us to take on whatever roles we want to (And also okay for men to take on the roles that make them happy). It is okay for us to be alone and independent. BUT it is also okay for us to be interdependent with someone else. We don’t have to do everything, out partner can have a role also. Everything will never be equal or 50/50 all the time. Some days are 60/40 or even 80/20 – but it all balances out if both parties are contributing and really care. Human beings need other humans. Personally, I am
tired exhausted – by trying to be a Superwoman. I would like for someone to go ahead and be my provider and protector now. I feel guilty even typing those words…it has been so ingrained in me that I must be self sufficient and cannot rely on a man. I’ve been providing for myself since before I left my parent’s home and protecting myself – or trying to – my entire life…Fuck it…I’m going to keep practicing the words until I don’t feel guilty anymore. I want a man to adore me, love me, appreciate me, and also provide for me and protect me. It seems a man might like having a role that makes him feel good and important too? I can’t promise to make room in the closet for him…but a good provider can get us a bedroom with two walk-in closets.
It seems like because of the shifting of paradigms that men are afraid to even try to be filling traditional roles. They feel it is wrong to be dominant in any way, be the provider or protector – they have been trained now to step aside and let a woman take care of herself…open her own doors, fight her own battles and buy her own things. It has become more of a competition in relationship…who can earn more, take on more tasks, get more external societal validation…. on the dating sites you see men write things like “emotionally mature, financially secure – expect same in partner. Let’s travel together.” Meaning we are going Dutch. If you can’t afford to go, I will find a partner (i.e. independent financially secure woman) who can. Sorry…I was busy supporting men, putting kids through college, taking care of poor grandparents…I didn’t know how to do all that and still have a savings…no one taught me that.
So who am I? A woman in her mid 50’s…who has done a lot of things but has not done enough…and has no idea where she is going or how she is going to get there…
I have the worst allergies. If I live on the water (ocean) they are a million times better – something about the wind blowing across the water? Or less trees because of the space the water takes up? I don’t live on the water anymore. I have big trees across the back of the house. They have been bad for a while now, but this week extra bad because of the cottonwood blowing around and piling up like snow. That, in particular, just kills me. I can’t breathe. I’m probably over medicating just to survive at this moment…so about to share too much. The weeds we are about to go off into are literal and figurative.
I am not having a very good week really. I can’t breathe, there was the whole Brucifer debacle…which upon reflection just communicating with him had a level of negativity I don’t generally have around me, and I found out my government contract for work was not renewed through the company I have been working with for the last 11 years. I have to find out who did get the contract (haven’t been able to yet) and somehow become a vendor for them…that has me stressed.
So yesterday, I’m minding my business…trying to breathe and deal with “stuff” and I ended up in conversation with a guy. He sort of caught me at the right moment – you know… between trying to breathe and trying not to cry because life is sucking at this moment…he was so positive – fresh air (further magnifying how toxic B had been). He invited me to lunch. I thought wtf…okay…lunch is harmless enough with Mr. Positivity. I could use a bright spot in the week.
Lunch with Mr. positivity revealed he is a Navy Seal who teaches tactical stuff. We had a pleasant chat and he invited me over. I thought okay…I can change my mind when I get there if I choose…so far this meeting has been pleasant and oh so positive. I’m just soaking up the positive energy…I need it. He lives deep, deep in the woods…he is in process of building. It’s very…what’s the word I’m looking for…rustic (not quite the right one, but it will do). He has an RV converted to kitchen and eating area, another structure for living and sleeping, multiple other structures housing building supplies and various other things, there is a pond, bird feeders he made… he has built closets and furniture…showed me “composting toilets” – wow. This is way more rustic than I would at my age tolerate. I’m contemplating saying goodbye now because this is just too pioneer for me. I spent part of my childhood in the Appalachian Mountains…I have already embraced my inner pioneer. She now prefers the Four Seasons. But I’m here…and he is kissing me, and it is very, very nice… I decide, yes, this is an acceptable way to spend my afternoon. This is actually a very gorgeous man, in excellent shape, who just oozes positive energy. Surprise… he has the biggest cock I have ever seen. Seriously.
Consider me a penis connoisseur of sorts…I would like to think because I write, I research…I pay attention. I observe and question…after all – inquiring minds want to know. Just like each woman’s body is different, unique and beautiful in its own way – each penis is different, unique and beautiful in its own way. Some are thin, some thick – most somewhere in the middle. Some long, some short, some have a curve this way or that – some do not…some have very pronounced heads others may be accompanied by very large balls or small ones or somewhere in between…Brucifer had a Prince Albert piercing – which I had never seen before…so obviously I had to ask a lot of questions about that! I especially appreciate a well-balanced, symmetrical penis with good girth – length is less important to me. I appreciate a man who is clean shaven in the nether regions also.
Mr. Positivity is clean shaven (very nicely I might add – no stubble), very smooth and well-balanced, straight, hard and humongous. That is another thing about penis observation…hardness. Men 43-63 have varying degrees of hardness. Some require constant coaxing to become hard and/or stay hard even though their owner’s mind is all in. Some achieve “firmness”, others a degree of actual “hardness” beyond “firm”. This massive one is hard…more than firm…but he has also told me he eats very clean and takes vitamins and supplements – so maybe penis health is very much tied to general health. Actually, I am quite sure it is…too much alcohol consumption on the regular leads to “whiskey dick” …too much fast-food lead to unhealthy fats, poor circulation, and less hard penises. (Side thought…. should the plural of penis be peni? Or penises?) This penis is very, very healthy (maybe I should embrace composting toilets and put this man in charge of my health for a while? I bet he could get rid of my menopausal middle and get me to be toned and fit…). He even acted like he wasn’t really aware it was abnormally large…he is a Navy Seal – you mean to tell me guys in the military don’t compare dicks?! I am quite sure they must!
So now we all think we would like a big penis to play with but let me tell you honestly there are a few issues. I would need practice to get good at handling one this size…it wont all fit in your mouth and throat (sorry to be so graphic) so you have to modify your entire blow job style. Next issue is – you know from reading my blog – I love good hard slow fucking…you cannot do that with a penis this big…it’s too long – there is no where for it to go except what feels like into your other organs…which is not fun. So, once again modifications are required. Luckily, a man who owns something this large for more than 50 years knows how to do this. It was a beautiful penis. A masterpiece.
And he was very nicely quiet. Don’t get me wrong, I like sex noises…moans…well-chosen words – sex talk or talking “dirty” can enhance the experience. Especially if you are “in relationship” and know what appeals to each other. I appreciated Mr. Positivity’s silence…especially after Brucifer’s talk while fooling around – his talking dirty involved name calling, which for me – is not sexy. I have no desire to be a “little bitch” or “hot cunt”. The first time he said it I offended him because I laughed. I had to explain it caught me off guard… no judgement – whatever makes you happy. One thing that is difficult is when someone you’re with says “talk dirty to me” and you don’t know them well enough to know what the right things to say are…plus it’s making me work and use my brain when I am trying to ignore my brain and just observe the world through my skin. The right words, well-chosen, can absolutely enhance the experience…you just have to know the other person’s mind and be on a similar mindset page.
Surprisingly enough I heard from ex-Buddhist Monk again last night…he had good sex talk. He would like to see me again. That was a very nice penis and awesome sex…plus he told me “I don’t mean to be crass, but I have to say you are a great fuck”… which my self-esteem actually really needed at that moment in time.
I probably won’t ever see this “positive penis” again (does it seem like I am objectifying men?)…the owner is nice…but the woods made my allergies worse, the drive home was long, I don’t wish to be a “pioneer woman” … may I please have spa treatment and a nice Grand Cru?
In all honesty, I lasted about 2 days without the dating apps. I went back to them and also added Tinder…interaction on these dating sites is like some kind of crack for masochistic single people. I hate it and don’t want to be there, but can’t seem to stay the fuck away!
Friday night, I got a text from Brucifer…remember, he was given two chances already and ghosted me again for no reason. The text says “Can’t get you off my mind…”
I’m thinking no fucking way – it’s been a month…this guy does not deserve the time of day from me. But I’m curious, I really want to know what his issue is. So I respond with “Why did you disappear? I don’t understand you…are you married or something? On medication?”
He says “No…I’m not married or on medication. I’m just a little gun shy…had some bad experiences with the last couple of women I’ve fallen for. One turned out to be very controlling and the other turned out to have borderline personality disorder and was on the spectrum. I’m incredibly attracted to you and quite frankly that makes me nervous, which is odd for me…”
I responded with “Each time we connect, I am intensely attracted to you as well. Then each time your behavior is erratic and unpredictable. It seems unwise of me to keep engaging.”
We went back and forth about this, I said I needed to think about it and that I had extended trust to him and he keeps disappearing or abandoning me – and I have abandonment issues. I also inquired about if he had considered therapy about this issue. He indicated he understood, and it was his fault and he tried to leave me alone, but the Universe won’t let him – I keep “popping up” (he saw me on Tinder). He indicated he “doesn’t trust his ability to pick healthy women” but can’t deny a connection with me.
The next couple days we began rebuilding some trust – became Facebook friends – I wanted to see his posts and where he stands on stuff and how he interacts as part of rebuilding trust. He followed me on Instagram, so I requested to follow him back – which he approved. I found his “super like” on Tinder and “liked him back” so we could be connected. He had unmatched me on Match – so we had no connection there anymore…still don’t. I was thinking it’s insane of me to give him another chance, but he seems so sincere. Side note – he was out of town on a motorcycle trip. We communicated Saturday, Sunday…Monday he got very quiet, and I was thinking “here we go again…”, Then I went a little on tilt and texted quite a long text about if he has gone dark on me again I have no words and the only reason I am even available is because my partner fucking died…etc. After some time, I was reassured he just had a long ride that day had not had time for texting and would have a long one the next – so limited communication…he got back home Tuesday night.
We spent 4 days texting a lot, exchanging pictures, having phone sex…meanwhile we had also made plans for Thursday – I would not schedule any work and we could spend time together. My brain was being dominated by this interaction because the chemistry is so strong. I didn’t focus well on my previously scheduled dates and even cancelled one because I just was having momentary obsession with this interaction. Wednesday (today), he was texting Good morning and that he wished I were there with him. When one of my appointments cancelled, I indicated I would be available for a long lunch if he wanted to get coffee. He said “yes” so, we met at the same coffee place we originally met at – I had 2 to 2 ½ hours free…we met.
The chemistry was just as intense as before. Crazy, I n t e n s e sexual chemistry. We went to his house just a few blocks away and fooled around in his living room until I had to go…long lunch with no food. We seem to be so perfectly matched sexually…we did not have intercourse (he said “not this time”) but we did practically everything else and it was great…perfectly matched…very compatible, actually ahh…mazing.
There were just a couple of red flags I noticed that might interfere with having a permanent, long term relationship…I had planned to mull these over, watch them… and if nothing else just engage in a fabulous sexual relationship until the chemistry fizzled or we decided to go other directions. Let’s face it – really good sex…well there is nothing wrong with that!
Red flags – Like who the fuck doesn’t like even one Beatles song?! I sense a disrespect for women in general although he did speak well of his mother…two times we met for coffee and not once did he offer to order or buy it…did not even try to feed me either time (feeding me is a love language – LOL) and this coffee place has really good food…a random announcement of “hating hippies” and he coincidentally called me one the other day…general negativity and seems very quick to anger. Maybe it’s just a “stance” and not his real position? Maybe just being awkward until we get to know each other better?
I finished my workday and finally got home around 8:30pm (worked long to make up for taking tomorrow off), texted him “Hi”. No response. I got on my Tinder account to see what was going on there…who I need to reply to, etc. and notice he is gone. Unmatched again. Jumped on Instagram – he has revoked my follow. He is still following me, but I no longer have permission to follow him. Jump over to Facebook, he has been posting in the hour following my text…he is awake and online, just not responding to me. So…I decided to just call him – let’s just talk this through I’m thinking…I don’t want to wonder what is going on – do I need to make other plans for my day off? No answer…bumped to voicemail. I have been ghosted by him again!
I do not get it.
Men my age are fucked in the head…broken.
He absofuckinglutely will not get another chance. A second chance was generous, a third chance was insane…a fourth one would require me to seek professional help. You, my dear readers, must hold me accountable…If I see him again make me go to therapy! Meanwhile, I have the day off tomorrow and now nothing to do – LOL
**Update** Text at 5:30am “The chemistry is undeniable. I won’t go into all the reasons why, but we are not a good match. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” —–This is actually progress for this man…he has learned how to at least say goodbye. I go to respond…I was going to let him know that saying something shows growth and improvement and also that I was going to block him so he would not be able to change his mind later and try and talk me into connecting again. But…I was not given the privilege of a final response – I had been blocked. (As if I were the one who kept initiating contact!!??) Being blocked is a bit frustrating. Not because I wanted to ever talk to him again – he clearly needs some sort of help of some kind – but because you can’t say what you want to say or respond to what has just been said to you…it’s like someone slamming and locking a door in your face. I am aware it is my own fault – it was insane to give him another chance – but an additional observation none the less.**
Mid-month update… One week in my world can be equivalent to a month or more in someone else’s. I’m intense. It is my nature and seems to increase with age. I’m done apologizing for it. People can jump in and flow with it – or not. There does seem to be a general lack of kindness, empathy, and compassion out there right now and I don’t want to tolerate lack of that stuff…that’s the stuff that makes us “human”.
Mark # 129? (who the fuck knows – there are a million people named Mark and a lot of them I feel have crossed my path lately) … from here on out he shall be referred to as “Media Mark”. I thought I found an interesting island in a sea of mediocrity. I was wrong. By the way Mark, if someone says, “Good Night” or “Good Morning”, the customary response is to wish them the same – not “heart” it. And my dog…the one I told you I was up all night with and spent the day at the vet with, she is still alive. And yeah…I’m doing okay. Also, for the next person… you should up your “fucking” game – you are rusty. You are deep…but also very self-absorbed…the latter is not sexy. Best of luck to you.
Poly Paul…move on already. I only move forward. And not with you. If you keep sending me poetry, I’m going to lose my shit. What part of I’m not touchy feely when not in relationship do you not get? Best of luck to you also.
NSA FB – we officially said goodbye. Best of luck to you – appreciated the excellent sex. I hope you find your Gross Point Debi.
Cutting loose all the non-alpha, passive men I have been waiting for to step up and show me something inspiring. I am not inspired. Nor can I help you be what I am looking for.
So, let’s see…where does that leave me? Oh yeah…alone. That’s okay. I know how to be alone.
I don’t have enough time left on this planet for indifference or mediocrity.
I must live in all out passionate authenticity…wherever that takes me. For now, I have once again removed myself from all dating apps…people are fucking crazy. And exhausting. And as I said before, the guys my age are broken from past life shit making them have too many rules and fears. Maybe it’s Seattle. Maybe I should take a trip…go somewhere else to meet someone and fall in love. Ireland? Greece?
I openly embrace who people “are” and try to understand them “where they are” – without trying to make them someone they aren’t. I look for the “real” them and am ready to love them. So many people hide. They hide even from themselves sometimes who they are…who they want to be…who they can be. I get tired of trying to scale those walls. I can’t cope with bullshit. I want someone who is genuinely excited to be around me…in all my imperfect messiness. Someone who truly sees me, gets me, and loves who I am.
I may not write here for a while. This is the space I share about dating, sex and relationships…I may be headed another direction for a while. I will most likely channel my writing energy into another book or at least to another blog spot where I don’t focus on dating and sex.
Being authentic involves releasing our fear of not being liked. It’s about making our own decisions and thinking our own thoughts. It’s about being who we truly are – without fear or concern about how others perceive us. It’s about not tolerating bullshit. (I will walk away and stay away now.) It’s about radical candor – expressing myself frankly, fully and passionately…and expecting the same from others. Interacting deeply, being open and not afraid to expose my own weaknesses. Adopting a certain level of IDGAF-ness. No matter how much I expect others to be on board with my way of thinking,
many most will not be able to really embrace it or care to implement it themselves. That is actually okay. I continue raising the standards for myself and my life and I’m learning better how to frame the ask of those around me. Are they willing to risk not being liked by the majority to be true to themselves and the few who love who they truly are at their core? I only want to have authentic interactions. The folks who want to stay superficial have lots of other folks they can stay that way with…just not me.
I am continually amazed (not sure why I haven’t gotten over the shock yet) at how some people behave. I have open and honest conversations… I will openly talk about sex but that does not mean I will have sex with you. Is this difficult for the male mind to comprehend?
I recently went on a first date (Groundhog’s Day still happening over here) where the subject of sex came up and the man was surprised I said “No thank you, I do not want to have sex on an inflatable mattress in a construction site (WTF?!)” and I indicated that if I were inclined to have sex with him, that particular scenario is not how I would be happy fucking for hours – that would be more of a “we are already in a relationship and need a quickie sort of situation”. The “fucking for hours” threw him for a loop. He thought I was kidding. I said I was not – great sex for me usually involves hours of mutual happiness. Then he proceeded to say in a joking way “Every guy thinks he wants a nymphomaniac until they get one and have to fuck for 6 hours – is this why your ex-husband and fiancé are both dead? You fucked them to death?” This guy’s chances of a second date were already at zero, but now were a for sure… no fucking way! This guy was attempting to call me a derogatory name, slut shame me and bring up death of my past loves all in the same sentence on a first date?! – that is not nice. Plus, I wasn’t about to have sex with him anyway because I found him to be a judgmental, bigoted misogynist – the only reason I hadn’t left yet was because I was busy laughing (he was funny for most of the date) and upholding my civic responsibility to try and gently educate him through our interaction so he might be better informed and less obnoxious for the next woman to share Thai with him. Buh-bye.
Another first date was pretty darn nice…Mr. Anonymous (he asked to remain anonymous if I mentioned him in the blog), was a decent guy and we had a decent time. He did express concerns about my FB. I guess I should get better about explaining that…but I think we are done so maybe I don’t have to…unless I get another one. But just to reiterate for anyone who may have missed it – a fuck buddy is a place holder of sorts who allows you to get your physical needs met by just one person while you are finding the person you really want to be fucking.
G1 turned out to have a few issues. He has potential to be great down the road, but I am not looking for “potential”.
G2 would like a submissive slave. Not me…sorry. No thanks.
Paul #4 would like me to move into his house…what?? We haven’t been on a date yet and you want me to pack my bags?? Uh, no…crazy. Not looking for a sugar daddy (if taco daddies were a thing, we might have something to discuss…just kidding – although I love a good authentic taco).
Fall in love with a man that deserves your heart…if you can’t find him, then a man who pulls your hair and smacks your ass is a good plan B.”Says my friend Tami
I’m keeping myself busy with work… also with the non-profit humanitarian organization and I’m prepping to be a presenter at a leadership summit later in the month. I have placed my order with the Universe…in short summary – a man as deep and expansive as the ocean, that I can love and adore, who will love and adore me back, to be best friends with, and with whom we can support each other in being the best, most happy version of ourselves and have awesome sex all the time. He will arrive…may already be right in front of me…
“When someone shows you who they are…believe them the first time.” Maya Angelou
I have always been one to give a second chance. You know – just in case they didn’t mean it or had a bad day. There was a time I used to give many chances – just thinking my tolerance and loving spirit would turn things around. I have grown past that… years ago. I still am always tempted to give someone one second chance though…I would want one if I fucked up. All I have to say is – thank you for showing me so quickly who you really are and not waiting until I was knee deep into things.
I know I’ve really been off my game and “not myself” trying to do the whole “dating thing” lately. I’ve been whiney, insecure, negative and not a lot of fun the last few weeks. Even though you have seen me not “looking very pretty lately”, I do know my worth. I know I deserve to be appreciated for all I bring to the table. I have no problem walking away if someone doesn’t value me. I will not settle for “less than”. Maybe (no promises), but maybe I am starting to get my footing a little bit now.
“All that we are is the result of what we have thought. The mind is everything. What we think, we become.” ~Buddha
There is a pattern in my life of extremes.
I’m not sure if it continues because it was that way when I was a child or if it is just the nature of my existence in this lifetime. I look at so many people who don’t live extremes and haven’t lived extremes…they are just rolling around in the spectrum of what would be considered “normal” “average”…the middle in middle class.
For example; when I was in first grade I was going to peace marches, love ins, rolling joints, having adult conversations with adults, sometimes stepping over junkies to get to the bathroom, observing threesomes and moresomes, walking myself to school, encouraged to question all rules and form my own hypothesis, candles and incense all day long, background music at all times ranging from Santana to Dylan to Indian ragas, making my own “meals”, entertaining and caring for myself – that is a pretty “extreme” existence for a 6 year old.
I went from that space, with no adult supervision – to a 3,500 mile road trip when I was 7, to our eventual destination in the Appalachian mountains of Tennessee on a “farm” with no running water and a share cropper shack – with constant microscopic parental supervision. In a different part of the country, suddenly, all the circumstances and rules were different. No more junkies coming by to hang out and get high, but instead “God fearing neighbors” stopping by to talk about crops, soil, livestock, with continuous reference to hell and sparing the rod spoiling the child. New extremes…waking at 5 every morning and feeding all the animals in freezing cold temperatures before getting ready to go to school. Stripping tobacco and working in fields all day in the summer. Homemade clothes. Grand Ole Opry music. Canning. Meals prepared by a parent. No questions allowed – just do as you are told.
Those are two extremely different lives.
The extreme lives continued throughout my childhood…every time we moved it was new version of an extreme. We moved 18 times in 11 years. Which is most likely one reason I declared my independence at age 16 – we were at that time living in a suburb of Boston in a very stately home on acreage with an in-ground pool and a tennis court…a pretty posh existence where there were elaborate corporate parties, and I discovered my love of Chateau Lafite Rothschild and Chopin piano concertos. But I also had a lot of “breakage” from past “lives within the current lifetime” that needed some attention and nurturing, a lot of family dysfunction and I had this idea that I should have accomplished “more” already. I declared that independence…quit school, started my 3rd business and moved into a studio apartment with a shared bathroom down the hall in a grittier Boston suburb.
Extremes have just been my pattern. Even as an adult…For a while I was a “stay at home” mom catering to my husband’s every whim – making three meals a day, scrubbing every waking moment, making my existence and sole purpose to serve my husband and babies. I have also been a cold and detached businesswoman, hiring others to do household tasks, making my existence and sole purpose to make shit tons of money. I’ve lived in a torn-up house (husband started a remodel with no real plan, knowledge or money to complete) with dirt for a yard. I have also lived in an 8,000 sq ft. mansion with a pool and a view of the ocean. No wonder I am such a contradiction…the best of times – the worst of times, walking, talking, “Tale of Two Cities” contradiction. Another coincidence – we moved so often, every high school I attended (all 4 of them) they were reading “A Tale of Two Cities”. I would call it a foreshadowing, but it had already been going on my whole life.
Living extremes has given me appreciation of certain things…first class travel and comfort for one. I have been in row boats and on yachts. I have driven the worst piece of shit cars – I once had a car where the trunk filled up every time it rained and for days after the rain, whenever I turned a corner, water would spill out from the wheel well. I’ve also had Porsches (I love the way they corner) …I had an H3 that I loved as well as a Maserati Ghibli…and a Bentley Flying Spur. The Maserati was a really sexy piece of machinery…and the Bentley well, it was just divine power and quiet luxury (most people did not even know what it was which was just fine with me).
I remember trying to fake living in the middle. Fake having a mediocre life instead of experiencing extremes. As a kid, I tried to pretend I lived a Leave it to Beaver or Brady Bunch life. After making my own lunch and packing it in my lunch box, I used to pretend my mom made it and I didn’t know what was in there. When my kids were in elementary school, for a while I tried to be “normal” – joined the PTA, planned play dates, and tried to have bake sale conversations…then my mom was murdered the day before a field trip. I went anyway but kind of lost my shit and overshared with the other moms…. cover blown. Not “normal”. Fuck y’all I’m moving to a better school district and going to be more “myself”.
I would like to think I gave my kids a stable childhood. But really…how could I? I guess it was “more stable” than mine – less moving – less extremes for them…maybe. Maybe not. They did have a mom still living extremes and a bipolar father, so he had his own “extreme thing” going on. At least I gave them things I never had – they all graduated from college and have been to Europe and they all grew up in just one state.
Anyway, all this reflection on extremes and patterns has me applying it to my current dating experiences. How can a woman who has lived a bunch of lives within this one life settle for a partner who is not complex? A “normal” man…a “mediocre” man will not cut it. Living extremes creates a level of depth, appreciation, and complexity that is not found living “normally” I think. That is why so many men bore me. One conversation and we have reached the deep end of the pool with nowhere else to go. I need a man as deep as the ocean – LOL. That’s why there has to be so much fucking sifting…I am looking for a match that is harder to find! Even with sex… I have experienced “time out” with no sex and also have experienced tons of sex and too many orgasms an hour to count. No wonder the ex-Buddhist Monk and I had such perfect sex – we both understood the extremes. Maybe that is why I lean toward kink – closer to extremes.
Will history define me as a human extremophile? Did I choose to experience a life of extremes for optimal spiritual growth? Or was it just a fluke?
A completely unnecessary documenting of the evolution of my blog:
I got to thinking this morning about the history of my blogging and the name I have chosen – “Undomesticated Bitch” and thought I’d share.
I used to keep a journal. It was a way to vent, analyze, and perhaps document time. It was a way to say what was on my mind without bothering anyone else about it.
Then, a million years ago (or about 15 – you choose), my kids found MySpace. I joined to keep an eye on them – yes, I was one of “those” parents. On MySpace, I discovered blogs. So of course, I started one. At first, I was “The Domesticated Goddess”. I shared recipes (LOL) and tips for effectively managing a household and children and running a business all at the same time. If you wanted to know how to make the perfect corned beef while conducting a meeting at the same time, or how to fold a fitted sheet so your linen closet was perfection…I was the resource.
Then one day it changed. I started sharing the nitty gritty real details of what it was like to be me. My frustrations with TGIM (the guy I married), challenges of being a woman running a business in a male-dominated industry…shit got “real”. It evolved into “The Domesticated Bitch”. More and more in business I found men saying I was a bitch – I’ve never been a mean person…just assertive and honest. I figured if I claimed the word “bitch” it would take the power of the word away from those who wanted to use it against me. If I was a “bitch” (cuz I am fucking sweet as pie!) then that must be the word for strong woman who makes more money than you.
I wrote every day – hence the “Daily Bitch” of the “Domesticated Bitch”. I shared observations, struggles, frustrations, and the occasional too good not to share recipe. I developed a “following”. The readers felt I enhanced their experience in some small way of this thing we call “life” or who knows, maybe it was just their daily dose of harsh and honest reality because lets’ face it – a woman raising children and trying to juggle life and a business has a few things to say when she is unfiltered (and I can occasionally be funny). I talked about marriage, business, sex… After my writing had gotten “real” for a couple years and my followers grew, my kids got freaked out. They told me “people read what you write mom! Do you have to be so…so…YOU?!”
When the kids were in high school, the oldest came to me and said “Mom – seriously, this blogging thing of yours has to stop. Our friends read it, our teachers are even reading it. Please for the love of God – you have to stop.” This as I recall was prompted by something I wrote about disappointing it can be when one person doesn’t meet all your needs on every level and why isn’t open marriage a viable option…So I printed out all of my blog (I guess in case I ever needed to refer back to anything or because so many hours and days had gone into it…) and hit delete. Goodbye 15,936 followers. Goodbye daily observations and thoughts. You’re welcome my children.
A couple years later, I ran away from home (If I had continued my blog everyone would have seen it coming). I waited as long as I could…2 were in college, the baby was in her last year of high school – I was trying to wait until she was in college. But January 17th 2010 (forever now called Freedom Day) at 2am it all came to a head and I packed a brown grocery sack with the few clean clothes I could find in the laundry room and oh so quietly/scared shitless/last ditch try to save myself sort of way – drove away. I called my dad on my way down the road to report what I had done in case I turned up dead. I wanted someone on the planet to know that if I was found dead to thoroughly investigate the controlling, unstable (aka bat shit crazy) bi-polar husband who was obsessed with all the forensic murder shows and watched the same ones over and over. Seriously.
During the subsequent 2 year divorce, I started a new blog secretly. I dubbed it “Adventures of an Undomesticated Bitch”. It chronicled the ugliness of divorce and the re-finding of the “undomesticated” (wild, untamed) side of me I once knew as a girl…The me that used to climb trees and go sailing into the lake off a rope…used to love the “free falling” wild and reckless feeling…I was becoming “free” again and for sure a kind of reckless. I shared the rediscovering of the woman hiding in the “mom sweats” and her trying to define what life should look like as a full-grown woman without a husband. That blog was eventually deleted as well. If the kids had found it…well, let’s just say our relationship would be forever changed. This sharing was keeping me sane. It was unfiltered, and definitely not sugar coated. It was all the stuff I couldn’t/wasn’t allowed to say.
I’ve hidden pieces of me in various blogs ever since. I’m just now getting the courage to say “fuck it” and start pulling all the pieces of me back together into one place. And yes, I am an “Undomesticated Bitch”. My kids are adults now. If they find this blog, well then they will just have to deal with the fact their momma is a “real” and honest person and deal with it. She has thoughts, feelings and yes, she has sex.