You know what I think in my very humble opinion is the singular problem with being single? People who aren’t single.
Truth.
I spent most of my younger years trying to explain to people who either weren’t single or were single and trying very hard not to be single as soon as possible why I am in no hurry to be coupled up. Today, I just ain’t that into explaining myself to people. Either you get me or you don’t. *shrug* Love me or leave me. I’ll still respect you regardless.
I want a great relationship with a good man but I have never been in a rush. I take my time getting to know each man who enters my life. Everyone, including me, is fantastic when you are first getting to know them but bay…be, 6 months down the road (if that long) you start wondering what drug this nutcase slipped you that you hooked up with them in the first place. Were you wrong about them all along? Have aliens kidnapped them and dropped off an alien clone to replace them?
No, what happened is the newness of the relationship wore off and a reality set in.
Ok, I can do reality but damn some of the reality that people think I should put up with ain’t the type of reality that me, myself, and Project Bytch are interested in putting up with. I mean, I am no cake walk myself.
Exhibit A: I am not a morning person.
But no one outside of my immediate family knows that. I have never lived with a man so not even any of the men I have dated know that. Don’t ask how I have accomplished this, maybe I am just a great actress. *shrug* Now should we spend the weekend together, ok, we are waking up when we feel like. But during the work week? When that evil azz alarm clock goes off? Don’t touch me, don’t talk to me, don’t look at me, hell don’t even breathe in my direction. Ok?
It’s not hormonal. I just don’t like waking up before the sun.
I can’t imagine putting a poor man through that now. I can be an evil bytch first thing in the morning Monday thru Friday. I am so bad that my mother once asked a guy who came to pick me up “What do you want with my evil daughter?” RIP Moms and sorry about suffering my evil azz every morning!
A man marrying me not knowing this and not being able to tell me “Babe, quit your job. I got this.” would have to wonder what the hell happened to the sweet, generous, caring woman he met before the wedding.
She’s still here. She just doesn’t show up until after 10 am weekdays and she’s here all weekend. Unless someone loses their mind and asks me to take them to the airport for an early flight on the weekend. Then you can all kiss her happy azz goodbye. *chuckle* It is what it is. I don’t apologize for it cuz it ain’t me. It’s totally a biological thing. That and the fact that if previous lives existed then in my past life I was a pampered spoiled Egyptian princess.
That’s not my only quirk but I think that is the worst. Though, if a man knows my Achilles heel he can get around this quirk. HINT: Waking up in the middle of an orgasm can change my whole attitude. Truth.
I will bounce into work so dang happy that I literally have pissed people off at how chipper I am. *chuckle* And will hum Hate on Me by Jill Scott just to add fuel to the fire.
Yeah, I know I’m a stinker. Not my fault I seek out my bliss every chance I get. And sometimes I find it.
So I am not at all positive that the advice my friends give me regarding men is all that…altruistic.
I remember once we were discussing the age old question of penis size. I stated quite honestly that I have never had sex with a guy whose penis I considered small. One of my good girlfriends wished I’d meet one and the others laughed. I don’t see what is supposed to be funny about that. Especially, as bitter as they all were about it. *shrug* I can’t see wishing ill like that on a friend.
Said girlfriends seem to condone the following: Having a crackhead in my life is supposed to be acceptable. Also, having a guy with multiple baby mommas is supposed to be acceptable, too. And if he doesn’t have a job, I’m supposed to roll with that, also. If he gives you a STD, that’s ok, too. And if his sexual orientation is questionable that’s supposed to be acceptable, also. My only concern, judging from my girlfriends attitudes, should be whether he’s good in bed. *blink blink*
True Story:
My girl had a family member she wanted me to meet. He had just gotten out of jail and was already working hard as a mechanic. He was trying to get his life together and needed a good woman by his side. She said.
Ok, everyone makes mistakes and he seemed like he had learned from his.
I asked him why he had been in jail. Need your full name and date of birth and charges. Took my azz right down to the courthouse to look up his criminal record to verify ish. What? No, I don’t take ish like that just at ANYONE’S word. I don’t have kids but I have a lot of kids around me and people trust me with their kids. I want to make sure I don’t pick up a known sexual predator.
His turned out to be a theft charge from his employer. He lived, he learned, he did his time and now it was time to move on.
Ok, we speak on the phone a bit and then he disappears. Ok, brother was fine! Came out the cut (prison) all fine and thick and WHEW! *fanning myself remembering*. I have always taken my time and just cuz he was family of a friend of mine didn’t change jack. So I could imagine some other woman had fallen into bed with him a whole lot quicker than me. To each their own.
So about six weeks later I stop by my friend’s house. I walk in and this skinny dude with his front uppers missing is like, “Hey woman! Where you been?”
I am thinking fast on my feet and talking to him while I am trying to figure out who he is and how he knows me, because he called me by name and I had no clue who he was. Then I noticed that his voice sounded familiar. So I just concentrated on that. He hugged me and went out the room. As he did, it dawned on me who he was. My girl’s fam who she was trying to hook me up with.
Hold the effing phone!
As soon as he leaves the room I make a beeline for her.
I am whispering “Girl! Is that D?”
She nods sadly. “I know. I was so hoping he would stay off that stuff with a good woman by his side.”
Ummmm…didn’t she think that was something she should have told me? Then the whole story comes out. He was using when he stole from his employer to feed his habit.
Yeah, he had a girl alright and her name is Crack.
Don’t judge me either for dating an ex-con. Nobody is perfect. We all make mistakes. I actually know a couple success stories of guys who come out of prison and change their lives. Just a few though. And years later, my girl’s fam is not one of them. Crack is still his best girl.
I got way to many stories like that. *side eye left, side eye right* Hmm, I may need to cut some more "friends" from the herd.
I just know that as long as someone isn’t trying to convince me that I should be bending over backwards to get a man then I am content. Heck, sometimes I am downright happy. Especially when I listen to all these coupled up, tripled up, and quadrupled up women complaining about the man or men in their lives. Truth: I have a girlfriend who has 3 boyfriends. They all know about each other and all three are trying to be the last man standing. And all three of them get on her nerves most of the time. *chuckle*
One man will do me nicely, thank you very much. I tried dating three men at once one time. I couldn’t keep their names straight for nothing in the world. Then people wanted to give me advice about that! Sheesh! How about I date one man at a time and hope I find a man someday that will add to my happiness? If not, how about y’all just let my content and sometimes happy single azz be me?
*totally unconcerned shrug* You know I am going to be me on general principal, anyway.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Time on The Block
So I took that walk down to The Block last week and the only unpleasant thing I saw was an old hooker/stripper who convinced me that after a certain age it doesn't matter how medical science enhances you, you can still be too old to be a hooker/stripper.
That was until I saw a scraggly looking guy trying to pick her up. Ew *shudder* Bless they hearts, some men will have sex with anything with a pulse. That is not a bad thing...I think...*shudder* Let me not think too much about that. Almost got a mental picture of them two doing it. *gag*
He was wearing a grey felt bowler hat, grey pinstripe suit, and grey wingtip shoes. I had to duck in a store to catch my breath! Cuz I didn't wanna get pimp slapped for laughing in his face.
Then it would have been me on news at 11 cuz the Project Bytch in me would not have been contained. I know that someone in my family is gonna be the third one of us to make the local news, but I am not trying to have it be me.
That falls into another goal of mine, stay off the Jerry Springer show. *chuckle*
Anyway, walking around on the block reminded me of the job interview I had down there once. No, I did not know I was headed to the The Block for the interview.
Let me explain. The Block, Baltimore's red light district is one city block of tiddy bars/strip clubs and peep shows. That's it. Just one city block. The rest of it is respectable businesses, a hospital and even homes. It is located on Baltimore Street. Nope, I ain't joking. The police station is located in the following block from The Block. *smh* I have no idea whose bright idea it was but there it sits to this very day. It was there before I was born and it may be there after I am dust. There was talk of moving it but then, hey, where would the military go when they roll into town.
No, I ain't joking...I have seent it with my own two little brown eyes. And I was totally shocked when I was younger. But people paid them no mind like it was the most natural thing and after a time so did I.
Anyways, I was looking for a part time evening gig and saw an ad in the paper for a cashier in a book store with a phone number and an address. I never paid any attention to what block numbers The Block resided in and I am so glad I didn't. Otherwise I would have missed out on one of the most entertaining job interviews ever.
I called. Spoke to the manager and made an appointment to come in for an interview. He sounded professional on the phone and responded to me in a professional manner. Not at all what my little narrow mind would have suspected a manager/proprietor of one of The Block's establishments to sound like. If you had ever seen some of the hawkers and patrons on The Block you would totally understand why I would not have expected an air of professionalism from this guy.
So I dress in my interview best navy suit, stockings and medium pumps and unknowingly head on down to The Block.
I get down to Baltimore Street via the metro/subway. Depending on what generation you belong to you'll either call it the subway, its first name. Or the metro, after the city tried to get sophisticated. smh
I walk down the street looking at the street numbers on the building. Hey, I am in the 200 Block when I get off the subway. Cool...so I think.
I walked past many legitimate looking businesses but still no book store. I walk all the way down to the beginning of The Block. I stop at the intersection and look around confused, wondering if I had missed the bookstore.
Then I look in my purse to check the address again. Then I look at the numbers on the buildings on The Block. Sure enough, the peep show/sex emporium facing me across the street is 401 Baltimore Street. I get a sinking feeling as I look opposite 401 and see 400 Baltimore Street is indeed a book store. An adult XXX bookstore/peep show.
I am quite sure my jaw dropped. The manager hadn't said a thing about it being an adult book store, let alone a peep show!
I stood there for a while wondering what to do. This was pre-cell phone mind you. I was raised a very proper southern belle. It would have been rude to just blow off the interview without a phone call and polite excuse. smh
So, I womaned up as best I could. I waited for the traffic lights to change. No jay walking to get to this interview.
I stood before the door in dread. What would I find in there? Who would I find in there? Were there peep shows going on in the front of the store and books in the middle? What had I done to deserve this humiliation?
Then I suddenly realized I was standing on The Block in broad daylight and someone I know might see me standing in front of the peep show/book store.
That got me moving! I forged in without a backward glance!
I walked in and found that at the front of the store it was pretty much like any other book store, except for the naked people on the book/magazine covers, lewd book marks, XXX videos, and sex toys. Other than that, it was pretty much like any other book store you go into. *snicker*
I quickly scanned the store looking for a manager or sales person so I could get this interview over and get out of there quickly. Directly to my right was a counter that had to be raised about 4 feet off the floor. I looked up at the white chick behind the counter and told her I was there for an interview.
She yells toward the back of the store for the manager. I look in the direction she is yelling. There in the back of the store is a curtained off area, green, faded, and old. A 30ish dark haired white guy comes out slowly and walks over to me. Looking around at the few patrons there in the daylight hours he couldn't help but guess the smartly dressed black chick was his applicant.
I looked at the curtains again and then around the store hoping to see a door that led to his office. I wasn't going back behind that curtain no matter how rude it seemed.
The manager had other ideas that had nothing, thank goodness, to do with the curtain. He introduced himself very professionally and shook my hand. You know I didn't want to touch his hand but again, well raised polite southern belle. Besides, I could wash my hands at McDs afterwards.
He motions me to follow him down a side aisle to my relief. I follow, looking around nervously all the time. The few men in the store refused to look at me and the girl behind the counter just looked bored.
Then about halfway down the dildo and vibrator aisle he just stopped. He faced me and started with the interview questions. They were normal at first, did I have a day job, what experience did I have cashiering, what time could I come in. Simple.
Then they turned personal: Where did I live, did I have a car, where would I park, who do I live with, do I have a boyfriend. Strange questions and I answered every one he asked without telling him it wasn't his business.
You know why? Cuz every voice in my head including the Project Bytch was screaming with laughter. Remember I said we stopped in the dildo/vibrator aisle. Well, directly over the manager's shoulder was a dildo shaped like the president current for that year. President William Jefferson Clinton!
He's asking me questions and I am answering with I imagine a blank stare. Cuz in my head were all kinds of questions. Like does Bill know? Does Bill endorse this? Does Hilary know? Does Hil have one? Did Bill use one on Monica? Do they get a cut of the profits?
Oh the questions! And the questions were threatening me with the giggles at any moment.
The interview ended and I left. I don't remember what I did beyond finding someplace to sit down and laugh afterwards. I imagine people probably looked at me strangely but that day I put propriety aside and laughed and laughed and laughed.
I didn't take the job and not because I thought it beneath me. I suddenly saw that this might actually be fun and it would definitely give me some giggles. The problem was the manager. He wanted me to take off a couple days from my day job to work days so he could watch me. Watch me do what? That coupled with the personal questions he asked put me off the job.
I got the feeling they wanted me to do more than just bag purchases and take people's money. Every few months or so I would see the ad back in the paper for the exact same address and phone number and laugh quietly to myself.
That was until I saw a scraggly looking guy trying to pick her up. Ew *shudder* Bless they hearts, some men will have sex with anything with a pulse. That is not a bad thing...I think...*shudder* Let me not think too much about that. Almost got a mental picture of them two doing it. *gag*
That means neither me nor my girls can be tricking forever. I got a great bookkeeper and financial advisor. I should be able to retire by 50 from tricking and just be the Head Trick in Charge (HTIC). So I continued kicking the idea around.
So Monday, I took another walk down The Block and I seent...a monochrome pimp. *TweetyBird voice* Yes I did! I did! I did taw a monochrome pimp!
*chuckling*He was wearing a grey felt bowler hat, grey pinstripe suit, and grey wingtip shoes. I had to duck in a store to catch my breath! Cuz I didn't wanna get pimp slapped for laughing in his face.
Then it would have been me on news at 11 cuz the Project Bytch in me would not have been contained. I know that someone in my family is gonna be the third one of us to make the local news, but I am not trying to have it be me.
That falls into another goal of mine, stay off the Jerry Springer show. *chuckle*
Anyway, walking around on the block reminded me of the job interview I had down there once. No, I did not know I was headed to the The Block for the interview.
Let me explain. The Block, Baltimore's red light district is one city block of tiddy bars/strip clubs and peep shows. That's it. Just one city block. The rest of it is respectable businesses, a hospital and even homes. It is located on Baltimore Street. Nope, I ain't joking. The police station is located in the following block from The Block. *smh* I have no idea whose bright idea it was but there it sits to this very day. It was there before I was born and it may be there after I am dust. There was talk of moving it but then, hey, where would the military go when they roll into town.
No, I ain't joking...I have seent it with my own two little brown eyes. And I was totally shocked when I was younger. But people paid them no mind like it was the most natural thing and after a time so did I.
Anyways, I was looking for a part time evening gig and saw an ad in the paper for a cashier in a book store with a phone number and an address. I never paid any attention to what block numbers The Block resided in and I am so glad I didn't. Otherwise I would have missed out on one of the most entertaining job interviews ever.
I called. Spoke to the manager and made an appointment to come in for an interview. He sounded professional on the phone and responded to me in a professional manner. Not at all what my little narrow mind would have suspected a manager/proprietor of one of The Block's establishments to sound like. If you had ever seen some of the hawkers and patrons on The Block you would totally understand why I would not have expected an air of professionalism from this guy.
So I dress in my interview best navy suit, stockings and medium pumps and unknowingly head on down to The Block.
I get down to Baltimore Street via the metro/subway. Depending on what generation you belong to you'll either call it the subway, its first name. Or the metro, after the city tried to get sophisticated. smh
I walk down the street looking at the street numbers on the building. Hey, I am in the 200 Block when I get off the subway. Cool...so I think.
I walked past many legitimate looking businesses but still no book store. I walk all the way down to the beginning of The Block. I stop at the intersection and look around confused, wondering if I had missed the bookstore.
Then I look in my purse to check the address again. Then I look at the numbers on the buildings on The Block. Sure enough, the peep show/sex emporium facing me across the street is 401 Baltimore Street. I get a sinking feeling as I look opposite 401 and see 400 Baltimore Street is indeed a book store. An adult XXX bookstore/peep show.
I am quite sure my jaw dropped. The manager hadn't said a thing about it being an adult book store, let alone a peep show!
I stood there for a while wondering what to do. This was pre-cell phone mind you. I was raised a very proper southern belle. It would have been rude to just blow off the interview without a phone call and polite excuse. smh
So, I womaned up as best I could. I waited for the traffic lights to change. No jay walking to get to this interview.
I stood before the door in dread. What would I find in there? Who would I find in there? Were there peep shows going on in the front of the store and books in the middle? What had I done to deserve this humiliation?
Then I suddenly realized I was standing on The Block in broad daylight and someone I know might see me standing in front of the peep show/book store.
That got me moving! I forged in without a backward glance!
I walked in and found that at the front of the store it was pretty much like any other book store, except for the naked people on the book/magazine covers, lewd book marks, XXX videos, and sex toys. Other than that, it was pretty much like any other book store you go into. *snicker*
I quickly scanned the store looking for a manager or sales person so I could get this interview over and get out of there quickly. Directly to my right was a counter that had to be raised about 4 feet off the floor. I looked up at the white chick behind the counter and told her I was there for an interview.
She yells toward the back of the store for the manager. I look in the direction she is yelling. There in the back of the store is a curtained off area, green, faded, and old. A 30ish dark haired white guy comes out slowly and walks over to me. Looking around at the few patrons there in the daylight hours he couldn't help but guess the smartly dressed black chick was his applicant.
I looked at the curtains again and then around the store hoping to see a door that led to his office. I wasn't going back behind that curtain no matter how rude it seemed.
The manager had other ideas that had nothing, thank goodness, to do with the curtain. He introduced himself very professionally and shook my hand. You know I didn't want to touch his hand but again, well raised polite southern belle. Besides, I could wash my hands at McDs afterwards.
He motions me to follow him down a side aisle to my relief. I follow, looking around nervously all the time. The few men in the store refused to look at me and the girl behind the counter just looked bored.
Then about halfway down the dildo and vibrator aisle he just stopped. He faced me and started with the interview questions. They were normal at first, did I have a day job, what experience did I have cashiering, what time could I come in. Simple.
Then they turned personal: Where did I live, did I have a car, where would I park, who do I live with, do I have a boyfriend. Strange questions and I answered every one he asked without telling him it wasn't his business.
You know why? Cuz every voice in my head including the Project Bytch was screaming with laughter. Remember I said we stopped in the dildo/vibrator aisle. Well, directly over the manager's shoulder was a dildo shaped like the president current for that year. President William Jefferson Clinton!
He's asking me questions and I am answering with I imagine a blank stare. Cuz in my head were all kinds of questions. Like does Bill know? Does Bill endorse this? Does Hilary know? Does Hil have one? Did Bill use one on Monica? Do they get a cut of the profits?
Oh the questions! And the questions were threatening me with the giggles at any moment.
The interview ended and I left. I don't remember what I did beyond finding someplace to sit down and laugh afterwards. I imagine people probably looked at me strangely but that day I put propriety aside and laughed and laughed and laughed.
I didn't take the job and not because I thought it beneath me. I suddenly saw that this might actually be fun and it would definitely give me some giggles. The problem was the manager. He wanted me to take off a couple days from my day job to work days so he could watch me. Watch me do what? That coupled with the personal questions he asked put me off the job.
I got the feeling they wanted me to do more than just bag purchases and take people's money. Every few months or so I would see the ad back in the paper for the exact same address and phone number and laugh quietly to myself.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
I am having one of those days...
I am having one of those days when moving to Vegas to open a legal and very exclusive bordello looks like such a good idea. I have discussed it with enough friends down through the years that I have a bookkeeper, IT personnel, and of course women to satisfy in various skin colors. We can cover most fetishes.
I even have a name for the place...but I'll keep it to myself just in case I actually DO decide to head west, somewhat young woman, head west.
Maybe I'll take a walk down The Block (Bmore's red light district) at lunch to try and convince myself that ho'ing ain't the way to go...
I even have a name for the place...but I'll keep it to myself just in case I actually DO decide to head west, somewhat young woman, head west.
Maybe I'll take a walk down The Block (Bmore's red light district) at lunch to try and convince myself that ho'ing ain't the way to go...
Sunday, November 1, 2009
The Pathological Liar (TPL)
Why do I have this person in my life?
Quite simply becuz he makes me laugh. We are platonic friends and he makes me laugh. I have been told to kick him to the curb by my true friends. I thought about it but you know what? I know when my phone rings and I look down at caller ID and see his number I am about to laugh long and hard.
For that alone he has earned a place in my life and he is welcome to stay as long as he doesn’t turn toxic. And he can be.
Let me explain about TPL.
He is a person who believes that his life should be better than anyone else’s life. I have not guessed or surmised this with my superior (heh) intellect. He told me this himself. It took me a number of years to figure out that he will lie to make sure his life is better. I am just not sure if he believes the lie or not. *shrug*
True story: when gas prices first started to come down out of the stratosphere we were discussing the decline. I remarked that I had gassed up for $2.75/gal. He quipped in quick that gas on his side of town is $2.50/gal. I gave him a mean side eye and changed the subject. I watch the news and all the channels were once announcing where you could find the cheapest gas in town at that time it was $2.69/gal. It’s not good enough that he is getting something better. It has to be EXTRAORDINARILY better than whatever anyone else has. *smh and lqtms*
These lies get him through his day to day life, I guess, and I don’t have any need to call him on it. However, it has caused quite a number of people to fall away from him.
Our first lunch bunch back when I met him 10+ years ago was a multicultural group of 12+ of every skin color in the human rainbow. We would sit around that conference table and have a ball…until… *smh and frowning*
One day he told a blatant lie and tried to get me to back him in said lie, which I wouldn’t. But TPL has this knack of making people believe him. He gave everyone at the table a wise eye and said “Believe her if you want but I am telling you what I know.”
They all believed him. I shook my head and laughed cuz I didn’t see it as a personal attack. That was him flexing his power. Well the lie came to light as it usually does. Now this is how much he is liked until his lies are exposed, people tried to get mad at me.
I am one of the most easy going people you will ever meet until you try to pin a lie on me. Uh-uh! EPIC FAIL! I flipped and let the Project Bytch loose for a minute and reminded everyone pissed that I had told them that he was lying and that they, EACH AND EVERYONE OF THEM CHOSE to believe him over me without trying to investigate the truth on their own.
Everyone got quiet cuz I am usually the quiet one and I had just laid down the truth on them and it couldn’t be denied.
Our lunch bunch dwindled down to a threesome almost immediately. People did not like his lies. And I understand that. You are having fun and you go home to friends and family and regale them with stories of TPL only to find out that they are either half truths or all lies.
I take TPL for the here and now. I don’t go spreading the stories he tells me around…unless they are just that darn funny. Then I always preface them with “According to TPL”. Then it’s up to the listener whether to believe or discount the story. But it is always a good laugh. It’s a rarity cuz you never know how much is truth and how much is pure fiction.
His toxic side is just this: He will systematically destroy any relationship you have in your life if you let him.
Yes, I speak from experience. But luckily for me the relationship he destroyed is not one that I needed to keep anyway. I keep him away from the ones I want to keep.
As I said, our lunch bunch dwindled down to three. Me, TPL, and The Fabulous One (TFO). Me and TFO had struck up a friendship before even meeting TPL. Then TPL joined our twosome and those were, for a while, some of the most fun times I had ever had.
I love my girlz (my true friends) but they are a handful of crying, happy, sad, angry, terrified, mixed up, messed up, fabulous, loving, caring, crazy azzed heifers. All that emotion they bring me is tiresome sometimes. With me, TPL, and TFO it was all fun and giggles in the beginning.
I was the ever faithful sidekick to those two stars *chuckle* It was kinda like high school except now I was a sidekick instead of marching to my own beat.
TFO and I were pretty tight before we met TPL. We watched him and learned. TFO was so good at picking out his lies and taught me how to catch on to them.
Long story short (maybe I'll go into it on another post) even though we were armed with the knowledge of how he destroys other people's interpersonal relationships we still could not stop the ultimate break up and destruction of our own friendship.
TPL is just that good. He should work for the CIA or somebody. If only they could harness his talent for good.
It took me a while to write this one. Then I was talking to My Obsession this weekend and I suddenly knew what I wanted to say. What I need to explain about TPL is why I accept him for who he is.
See, 19 years ago his little sister was murdered by her boyfriend. At the time, his mother was battling cancer. The murder and then the refusal of the murderer to tell them where he hid her body broke his mother’s spirit. His mother gave up her battle with Cancer. Then a little more than a year later his father followed his wife to the grave.
So in the space of two years he lost his little sister, mother and father. He lost his sister horribly. He had to sit through a trial where the witness described dismembering his little sister.
*blinking tears* I know he is at the cemetery for his parents birthdays and anniversary leaving flowers. He goes alone. He says they are not good times for him but he feels he has to go. I know his birthday is the day his sister was murdered and that’s what he remembers every year.
I don’t know how I would come through that. That’s why I let a lot of stuff slide with him. I can’t fault him for it because we are all just human beings trying to do the best we can with the tools at our disposal. There aren’t too many guides out there so a lot is relying on yourself.
Yeah, he’s bitter sometimes. When I was first getting to know him, he hurt my feelings a few times. But guess what? I grew a thicker skin because of knowing him. It is not quite as easy for people to get under my skin as it was in my younger years.
About 7 years ago, I emailed him “Good morning!” as is usual for me. He came back with “What the fuk is so good about it?”
Ok, we talk like that to each other sometimes. So I laughed and emailed him back all the things he should be happy about. TPL came back with a reply that was full of so much venom that if words could kill I wouldn‘t be alive to write this. I can’t remember what was in it because I only read it once. I hit delete and empty. Shook my head and went about my day.
I was sick of his crap and I wasn’t about to take it. I had drama going on in my own life at the time and I had no clue why he dumped on me. We didn’t speak for 3 months.
Then one day he calls me up and says “Hey! What’s the shade?” That means, why haven’t I called. My reply was a noncommittal “What’s the shade with you?” And he told me.
See the day we stopped speaking was the day he ran into the man who helped his sister’s boyfriend dismember her. He was out of jail now and he thought it was just a fine and dandy idea to walk up to TPL and say “Hey man! How you doing?” Just like they were still the friends who had grown up together and he hadn’t cut TPL's sister up in pieces like she was meat.
He went through a lot during this period. He wanted to kill this man. And I don’t blame him. Had I known that I would have come back with something totally different than the sweet email I sent. He was hurting and most human beings lash out when they are hurting.
That was 7 years ago. We’ve both grown a lot in that time. We’ve matured, gotten smarter, and somewhat wiser and we know more of each other’s story so we are a lot more understanding of each other.
When his sister’s boyfriend/murderer got out of jail, the road was a little smoother. He was still in a foul mood but at least I knew why and I could deflect better.
Last month the BPD contacted him about the remains of a young woman’s body that they had reconstructed and asked him for DNA. We were really hopeful that it was her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t her.
But this time instead of striking out at me he called me and we talked and we talked. And when it wasn’t her we talked some more.
All that to say, we are all fighting our own personal battles. He’s doing the best he can with the tools he has been given just like me. Anyone got a quick and dirty guide on how to deal with his type of pain? Yeah, didn’t think so.
If I had written him off 7 years ago, like everyone else wanted me to, he wouldn’t have been there to make me laugh when I had a horrible case of “I miss my mommy!” It was really pathetic. I was walking around the cemetery in tears, couldn’t find her grave and it just got uglier.
Yeah, I have friends who have lost their mothers but them heifers are a bunch of cry babies. They would have had a mope fest. TPL taught me how to laugh through the pain. And there is something that gets freed from my heart when I do find a true laugh in the midst of my pain. It makes the pain hurt less and my heart feel a little lighter. Speaking as someone who has cried themself to sleep due to emotional pain, I'll take the laughter every time.
He can email or text me and I can come back with “Bad day.” And he’ll stop what he is doing, pick up the phone and tell me some ridiculously funny story that will put the smile back in my stride. And I have learned how to be there and help him, too. Mostly I just shut up and listen. Sweet kind words are not what he is seeking.
Wow! Imagine what I would have given up if I had just given up on him.
BUT
...see how big that ‘but’ is? Wish I could make it bigger!
What I know is that he still gets jealous. He’s jealous at my ability to maintain friendships. He is jealous of my family life. And that is when he gets toxic. So I keeps him far away from those I wish to keep.
He is still a work in progress and so am I and so is everyone else.
I’m not saying keep everybody. Some people I had to let go for my own good. Like TFO. I still see her around and I am cordial. I learned from her, too, so truly I have no hard feelings against her and wish her the best. But as my supervisor said back when I cut her from my life, “She really could care less about you or your safety. People like that you don’t need in your life.”
Smooches babe! I let her kick rocks and ain’t looked back. *chuckle* But she has and so has TPL. We were a really fun threesome. But everything changes. Some things/people I kept and others I had to let go.
It’s mostly good though.
Quite simply becuz he makes me laugh. We are platonic friends and he makes me laugh. I have been told to kick him to the curb by my true friends. I thought about it but you know what? I know when my phone rings and I look down at caller ID and see his number I am about to laugh long and hard.
For that alone he has earned a place in my life and he is welcome to stay as long as he doesn’t turn toxic. And he can be.
Let me explain about TPL.
He is a person who believes that his life should be better than anyone else’s life. I have not guessed or surmised this with my superior (heh) intellect. He told me this himself. It took me a number of years to figure out that he will lie to make sure his life is better. I am just not sure if he believes the lie or not. *shrug*
True story: when gas prices first started to come down out of the stratosphere we were discussing the decline. I remarked that I had gassed up for $2.75/gal. He quipped in quick that gas on his side of town is $2.50/gal. I gave him a mean side eye and changed the subject. I watch the news and all the channels were once announcing where you could find the cheapest gas in town at that time it was $2.69/gal. It’s not good enough that he is getting something better. It has to be EXTRAORDINARILY better than whatever anyone else has. *smh and lqtms*
These lies get him through his day to day life, I guess, and I don’t have any need to call him on it. However, it has caused quite a number of people to fall away from him.
Our first lunch bunch back when I met him 10+ years ago was a multicultural group of 12+ of every skin color in the human rainbow. We would sit around that conference table and have a ball…until… *smh and frowning*
One day he told a blatant lie and tried to get me to back him in said lie, which I wouldn’t. But TPL has this knack of making people believe him. He gave everyone at the table a wise eye and said “Believe her if you want but I am telling you what I know.”
They all believed him. I shook my head and laughed cuz I didn’t see it as a personal attack. That was him flexing his power. Well the lie came to light as it usually does. Now this is how much he is liked until his lies are exposed, people tried to get mad at me.
I am one of the most easy going people you will ever meet until you try to pin a lie on me. Uh-uh! EPIC FAIL! I flipped and let the Project Bytch loose for a minute and reminded everyone pissed that I had told them that he was lying and that they, EACH AND EVERYONE OF THEM CHOSE to believe him over me without trying to investigate the truth on their own.
Everyone got quiet cuz I am usually the quiet one and I had just laid down the truth on them and it couldn’t be denied.
Our lunch bunch dwindled down to a threesome almost immediately. People did not like his lies. And I understand that. You are having fun and you go home to friends and family and regale them with stories of TPL only to find out that they are either half truths or all lies.
I take TPL for the here and now. I don’t go spreading the stories he tells me around…unless they are just that darn funny. Then I always preface them with “According to TPL”. Then it’s up to the listener whether to believe or discount the story. But it is always a good laugh. It’s a rarity cuz you never know how much is truth and how much is pure fiction.
His toxic side is just this: He will systematically destroy any relationship you have in your life if you let him.
Yes, I speak from experience. But luckily for me the relationship he destroyed is not one that I needed to keep anyway. I keep him away from the ones I want to keep.
As I said, our lunch bunch dwindled down to three. Me, TPL, and The Fabulous One (TFO). Me and TFO had struck up a friendship before even meeting TPL. Then TPL joined our twosome and those were, for a while, some of the most fun times I had ever had.
I love my girlz (my true friends) but they are a handful of crying, happy, sad, angry, terrified, mixed up, messed up, fabulous, loving, caring, crazy azzed heifers. All that emotion they bring me is tiresome sometimes. With me, TPL, and TFO it was all fun and giggles in the beginning.
I was the ever faithful sidekick to those two stars *chuckle* It was kinda like high school except now I was a sidekick instead of marching to my own beat.
TFO and I were pretty tight before we met TPL. We watched him and learned. TFO was so good at picking out his lies and taught me how to catch on to them.
Long story short (maybe I'll go into it on another post) even though we were armed with the knowledge of how he destroys other people's interpersonal relationships we still could not stop the ultimate break up and destruction of our own friendship.
TPL is just that good. He should work for the CIA or somebody. If only they could harness his talent for good.
It took me a while to write this one. Then I was talking to My Obsession this weekend and I suddenly knew what I wanted to say. What I need to explain about TPL is why I accept him for who he is.
See, 19 years ago his little sister was murdered by her boyfriend. At the time, his mother was battling cancer. The murder and then the refusal of the murderer to tell them where he hid her body broke his mother’s spirit. His mother gave up her battle with Cancer. Then a little more than a year later his father followed his wife to the grave.
So in the space of two years he lost his little sister, mother and father. He lost his sister horribly. He had to sit through a trial where the witness described dismembering his little sister.
*blinking tears* I know he is at the cemetery for his parents birthdays and anniversary leaving flowers. He goes alone. He says they are not good times for him but he feels he has to go. I know his birthday is the day his sister was murdered and that’s what he remembers every year.
I don’t know how I would come through that. That’s why I let a lot of stuff slide with him. I can’t fault him for it because we are all just human beings trying to do the best we can with the tools at our disposal. There aren’t too many guides out there so a lot is relying on yourself.
Yeah, he’s bitter sometimes. When I was first getting to know him, he hurt my feelings a few times. But guess what? I grew a thicker skin because of knowing him. It is not quite as easy for people to get under my skin as it was in my younger years.
About 7 years ago, I emailed him “Good morning!” as is usual for me. He came back with “What the fuk is so good about it?”
Ok, we talk like that to each other sometimes. So I laughed and emailed him back all the things he should be happy about. TPL came back with a reply that was full of so much venom that if words could kill I wouldn‘t be alive to write this. I can’t remember what was in it because I only read it once. I hit delete and empty. Shook my head and went about my day.
I was sick of his crap and I wasn’t about to take it. I had drama going on in my own life at the time and I had no clue why he dumped on me. We didn’t speak for 3 months.
Then one day he calls me up and says “Hey! What’s the shade?” That means, why haven’t I called. My reply was a noncommittal “What’s the shade with you?” And he told me.
See the day we stopped speaking was the day he ran into the man who helped his sister’s boyfriend dismember her. He was out of jail now and he thought it was just a fine and dandy idea to walk up to TPL and say “Hey man! How you doing?” Just like they were still the friends who had grown up together and he hadn’t cut TPL's sister up in pieces like she was meat.
He went through a lot during this period. He wanted to kill this man. And I don’t blame him. Had I known that I would have come back with something totally different than the sweet email I sent. He was hurting and most human beings lash out when they are hurting.
That was 7 years ago. We’ve both grown a lot in that time. We’ve matured, gotten smarter, and somewhat wiser and we know more of each other’s story so we are a lot more understanding of each other.
When his sister’s boyfriend/murderer got out of jail, the road was a little smoother. He was still in a foul mood but at least I knew why and I could deflect better.
Last month the BPD contacted him about the remains of a young woman’s body that they had reconstructed and asked him for DNA. We were really hopeful that it was her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t her.
But this time instead of striking out at me he called me and we talked and we talked. And when it wasn’t her we talked some more.
All that to say, we are all fighting our own personal battles. He’s doing the best he can with the tools he has been given just like me. Anyone got a quick and dirty guide on how to deal with his type of pain? Yeah, didn’t think so.
If I had written him off 7 years ago, like everyone else wanted me to, he wouldn’t have been there to make me laugh when I had a horrible case of “I miss my mommy!” It was really pathetic. I was walking around the cemetery in tears, couldn’t find her grave and it just got uglier.
Yeah, I have friends who have lost their mothers but them heifers are a bunch of cry babies. They would have had a mope fest. TPL taught me how to laugh through the pain. And there is something that gets freed from my heart when I do find a true laugh in the midst of my pain. It makes the pain hurt less and my heart feel a little lighter. Speaking as someone who has cried themself to sleep due to emotional pain, I'll take the laughter every time.
He can email or text me and I can come back with “Bad day.” And he’ll stop what he is doing, pick up the phone and tell me some ridiculously funny story that will put the smile back in my stride. And I have learned how to be there and help him, too. Mostly I just shut up and listen. Sweet kind words are not what he is seeking.
Wow! Imagine what I would have given up if I had just given up on him.
BUT
...see how big that ‘but’ is? Wish I could make it bigger!
What I know is that he still gets jealous. He’s jealous at my ability to maintain friendships. He is jealous of my family life. And that is when he gets toxic. So I keeps him far away from those I wish to keep.
He is still a work in progress and so am I and so is everyone else.
I’m not saying keep everybody. Some people I had to let go for my own good. Like TFO. I still see her around and I am cordial. I learned from her, too, so truly I have no hard feelings against her and wish her the best. But as my supervisor said back when I cut her from my life, “She really could care less about you or your safety. People like that you don’t need in your life.”
Smooches babe! I let her kick rocks and ain’t looked back. *chuckle* But she has and so has TPL. We were a really fun threesome. But everything changes. Some things/people I kept and others I had to let go.
It’s mostly good though.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
No good can come from this
This will be short and quick.
No good can come from this. I am having way too much fun with My Obsession. Therefore, I know no good can come from this.
I know it. I can feel it all in my nether regions. *chuckle* I don't know who is going to fuk it up, me or him. But I know I can't possibly keep having this much fun.
If it's me...man oh man...I am gonna need prescription meds. But if its him...? *shrug* I am a lot more forgiving of other people than I am myself.
*sigh*
Anyway, he is probably out of my league. Yeah, I know its sour grapes but thats how you make yourself feel better about missing out on good things. Right?
^^^^Sounds like I watched way too many afterschool specials. So glad they won't be punishing future generations with them.
I'm done for the moment.
No good can come from this. I am having way too much fun with My Obsession. Therefore, I know no good can come from this.
I know it. I can feel it all in my nether regions. *chuckle* I don't know who is going to fuk it up, me or him. But I know I can't possibly keep having this much fun.
If it's me...man oh man...I am gonna need prescription meds. But if its him...? *shrug* I am a lot more forgiving of other people than I am myself.
*sigh*
Anyway, he is probably out of my league. Yeah, I know its sour grapes but thats how you make yourself feel better about missing out on good things. Right?
^^^^Sounds like I watched way too many afterschool specials. So glad they won't be punishing future generations with them.
I'm done for the moment.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
5...4...3...2...1...MELTDOWN!
Ok. I’ve been stalked. Twice.
First time was my neighbor at my last apartment. I moved and got a new job. Problem solved.
Second time, earlier this year. A guy who I actually thought I liked until he went weird on me. He finally left me alone.
They are both over. Ok. I should be over this now.
This should be easy. I should be over it by now. I am so resilient. I have bounced back from so much. I should be able to do this on my own. I thought I was over it. I really did. I mean, I go out at night. I don’t jump at shadows or strange sounds. I can be alone and not be afraid. I don't have the dreams where I know I am not safe no matter what I do anymore. I should be good now.
I got my blogs I lurk and one in particular there is a guy who I have struck up a cyberfriendship of sorts. For his privacy sake I'll just call him My Obsession. We have gotten rather comfy with each other and I thought I was feeling pretty safe at coming out of my self imposed prison.
But the moment I told myself I was ready to tell My Obsession my real name I got a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. That’s ok, I told myself. I walked around with it for a couple days and it went away. I felt stronger, like I was dealing with it. Like I was ok. I could do this. I can trust me again! And me says that My Obsession is a good guy and I can relax.
Then Saturday came and his emails with it. I read them and they warmed me and made me think up all manner of inappropriate responses. And I came up with a lovely one I think. But he didn’t get that one. I sent him something truly innocuous compared to what I typed below.
Suddenly, just the thought of sending this reply sent me into a panic attack. The litany in my head started. You’ve been here before, remember. Not once, chick, but TWICE! What do you want to bet that he’ll be a third? You know bad things come in threes. Do you really want to chance it? Again? Do you want to have to switch jobs, again? Move again? Start looking over your shoulder again? Stay holed up in your new place praying that you’ve shaken him again? Remember jumping when you saw a car that looked like his? Remember coming out of work to find him standing there waiting for you?
Remember all that? You wanna do that a third time? There’s just something wrong with you, chick, that attracts the wrong kind of men, now. So run from him. Go ahead. Just disappear. Its easy.
Yeah, incredibly easy. But I am a little braver than that. He knows a little of my history. Heck. How can I be honest with him about it when I can’t even bring myself to blog about it. I’ve only told a few friends and family. I thought I would blog about it all but every time I try I come up with something else to blog about.
I am strong. I was raised to be strong and independent. I don’t want to be weak. I don’t want anyone to perceive me as weak. I am holding it in and I guess holding onto it. Which isn’t good. I just thought, I was really healing.
I really like this guy. I think we might enjoy each others’ twists. The last thing I want is to dump a load of crazy on this guy. He doesn’t deserve it. I’ve had enough of it dumped on me to last me and him a lifetime. And I want to unload it! Just not onto anyone else.
So, I guess this means I need to get help.
Inhale. Hold it. Exhale.
That means asking for help. I don’t like doing that. It is the hardest thing in the world for me to do. I did it once. After my mother died. And still it took me a couple years to work up the nerve to ask for help.
Maybe...and this is a big MAYBE cuz I am putting a lot on a man that has no clue what’s going on in my head, but maybe if he stays true to who he seems to be it will give me the courage to ask for help.
Or maybe I should just woman up and pull that number out and make an appointment.
*rubbing my temples* Anyway, here’s what I wanted to send to him Saturday.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
5:30 am
I woke up cuz I had to pee. Its Saturday. Sleep late day. I don’t want to get up this freaking early! So, first I tried to convince myself I didn’t have to pee cuz if I got up then I would be up for the day and my bed felt so warm and comfy. If I just laid there and told myself I didn‘t have to pee then maybe I’d go back to sleep. It works sometimes.
5:52 am EST
It didn’t work. The sharp pain I got from my bladder made me think it had called me a bad name. More than a little annoyed at the bladder that was only doing its job I threw off the covers and made for the bathroom. I flipped on the light switch in the bathroom and the white light chased away the last of my warm sleepy feelings.
A little sulky over losing the argument with my bladder, I made my way to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I sat and sipped while I contemplated what I wanted to accomplish with my day. I made a list of errands I wanted to run. When I finished my water, I went back to bed and I hoped back to sleep.
I put on my headphones and listened to some music for a while. Next thing I knew it was after 7:00 am and I was still wide awake. Ugh! Mentally, I asked my bladder was it happy now? It remained stoically silent on the matter. Then what was I expecting. It is a bladder after all. So I gave up on sleep and I decided to get up and fix breakfast.
8:17 am EST
My home phone rang as I was finishing breakfast. As usual it wasn’t on the base. I followed the sound and found it lost in my bed covers. I checked the caller ID and cursed the early evil azzed telemarketers.
I threw the phone back on the bed, yawned and stretched before grabbing the cell and checking for drunken texts from friends. I smiled when I saw I had two texts.
First up was Betsy. She sent me a single word text : Gruml. Now what did that mean? She would hate me for replying so early. So, I gleefully hit the reply and send buttons. She never did answer me. *chuckle*
Second text was from Hotmail telling me I had an email from My Obsession! I opened my email, read his email and grinned a wicked grin I felt all the way down to my impish little toes. I stretched and yawned again before settling back in bed to compose a reply to match my grin...and fell asleep.
12:32 pm! EST
Again I woke up to the sound of my ringing phone. Damn it! Another telemarketer. I checked the time and couldn’t believe my day was being wasted sleeping! I spied my cell and remembered I was composing a wicked email to send to My Obsession when I fell asleep.
I checked the phone and my web browser awaited my action patiently. All manner of wickedness ran rampant through my mind. So, confident that I would come up with something really NSFW, I headed for the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a shower. I caught the mischievous set of my mouth and glint in my eyes in the mirror as I finished brushing my teeth and stepped into the shower.
Steam rose up from the hot spray as I poured my favorite citrus and wild ginger gel and worked it up into a thick white foam. I thought about his last question as I made foamy circles over my skin. Who would be the woman he decided to have celebrate his end to his celibacy?
Warm butterflies fluttered happily from my stomach down below the bikini line *snort me in a bikini*. Still, I lathered my body and wished I could just grab my passport and go! Then, I sighed as I watched the lather rinsed down off my cinnamon chocolate skin. I wished I’d met him about 2 1/2 years ago when I trusted myself more and was freer.
Then I really thought about it. I was never that free, I still had a job to consider but I had such a great boss back then it would have been nothing to take 2 weeks and just go thoroughly explore My Obsession.
As I stepped from the shower my heated skin turned to goose pebbles as the chill air hit me. I had forgotten to turn on the heat. Again. It turned cold early this year. Then as is Momma Nay’s way when it comes to Maryland, Momma Nay can never quite make up her mind when the cold weather is here to stay. It can be 80 on Friday and 35 Saturday morning.
This Saturday was turning out to be chilly and gray.
I wrapped a thick white towel around me and went into my equally chill bedroom. As I rubbed vigorously at my cooling skin I longed for wishes to come true.
If they did I would wish away the last 30 months of my life.
I’d wish that when I stepped from my bedroom I would step into My Obsession’s home.
I’d find you sitting at a table. Your hands folded stiffly in front of you. The world around you a blur as I focused solely on you. You’d sit contemplating great and wonderful things as the scent of wild ginger and citrus enveloped you. I’d tiptoe close to you and ease into the chair behind you. As if it were the most natural thing in the world for me to be there, you’d scoot forward making room for me.
The towel would inch up my thighs as I got comfortable. My real name would be a question on your lips. You’d say it perfectly. Delightfully. Somehow, I knew it would sound absolutely beautiful coming from you.
I’d press closer in answer.
Your warmth would steal the chill from my skin. My toes would warm themselves against your sock covered ankles. My calves would rub themselves against your denim covered calves. My thighs would press against the warm fabric covering your thighs. My arms would encircle your waist and my fingers would find their way under your shirt to your warm skin.
There’d be a hitch in your breath as my cool fingertips roamed freely over your heated skin.
I’d rest my chin on your shoulder as I caught your ear teasingly betwixt my teeth. I’d taste my new treat with the tip of my tongue.
Yum!
My mind would be in a conundrum about whether to draw blood or not.
As if you could read my mind you’d turn your head pulling your ear free. That would be just fine. I’d have nothing but time. So instead I’d press my warm lips against your jaw and breathe you in.
*BIG SIGH*
But wishes don’t come true and the last 30 months still gnaw at my confidence. So I pulled on a pair of jeans, in honor of my yummy fantasy, and readied myself to run errands. I went to the kitchen to take something out of the freezer for dinner before heading out.
As I headed for the front door, the gray sky opened up and rained hard and coldly down on my day.
You should know, dear Obsession, I can be cold or I can be wet and still be unbothered. To be cold and wet at the same time when I don’t have to be? Ah...no. I quickly went over the errands I had to run and decided they could wait. A drizzle I could handle. A torrential downpour? Uh uh!
So, I went back to my bedroom. Took off my clothes and lay back and listened to the rain music and thought about you for awhile .
********************
That there was pretty PG13. Trust me, there’s more. *wicked giggle* Yes, I still giggle! Anyway, I was gonna describe the lingerie I put on and the towel does not survive this encounter. It gets torn to make restraints...sigh...and if you can’t guess where it goes from there then you aren’t old enough to be reading this post. *chuckle* Or you are a virgin who has been brought up in the basement of a convent and you really should head back to that basement and stay away from the internet, TV, strangers, the world outside your front door, and me. *hands on hips glaring sternly*
Mercy! He just sent me the most delicious email that I just want to run wild with! Geez Louise, if only!
First time was my neighbor at my last apartment. I moved and got a new job. Problem solved.
Second time, earlier this year. A guy who I actually thought I liked until he went weird on me. He finally left me alone.
They are both over. Ok. I should be over this now.
This should be easy. I should be over it by now. I am so resilient. I have bounced back from so much. I should be able to do this on my own. I thought I was over it. I really did. I mean, I go out at night. I don’t jump at shadows or strange sounds. I can be alone and not be afraid. I don't have the dreams where I know I am not safe no matter what I do anymore. I should be good now.
I got my blogs I lurk and one in particular there is a guy who I have struck up a cyberfriendship of sorts. For his privacy sake I'll just call him My Obsession. We have gotten rather comfy with each other and I thought I was feeling pretty safe at coming out of my self imposed prison.
But the moment I told myself I was ready to tell My Obsession my real name I got a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. That’s ok, I told myself. I walked around with it for a couple days and it went away. I felt stronger, like I was dealing with it. Like I was ok. I could do this. I can trust me again! And me says that My Obsession is a good guy and I can relax.
Then Saturday came and his emails with it. I read them and they warmed me and made me think up all manner of inappropriate responses. And I came up with a lovely one I think. But he didn’t get that one. I sent him something truly innocuous compared to what I typed below.
Suddenly, just the thought of sending this reply sent me into a panic attack. The litany in my head started. You’ve been here before, remember. Not once, chick, but TWICE! What do you want to bet that he’ll be a third? You know bad things come in threes. Do you really want to chance it? Again? Do you want to have to switch jobs, again? Move again? Start looking over your shoulder again? Stay holed up in your new place praying that you’ve shaken him again? Remember jumping when you saw a car that looked like his? Remember coming out of work to find him standing there waiting for you?
Remember all that? You wanna do that a third time? There’s just something wrong with you, chick, that attracts the wrong kind of men, now. So run from him. Go ahead. Just disappear. Its easy.
Yeah, incredibly easy. But I am a little braver than that. He knows a little of my history. Heck. How can I be honest with him about it when I can’t even bring myself to blog about it. I’ve only told a few friends and family. I thought I would blog about it all but every time I try I come up with something else to blog about.
I am strong. I was raised to be strong and independent. I don’t want to be weak. I don’t want anyone to perceive me as weak. I am holding it in and I guess holding onto it. Which isn’t good. I just thought, I was really healing.
I really like this guy. I think we might enjoy each others’ twists. The last thing I want is to dump a load of crazy on this guy. He doesn’t deserve it. I’ve had enough of it dumped on me to last me and him a lifetime. And I want to unload it! Just not onto anyone else.
So, I guess this means I need to get help.
Inhale. Hold it. Exhale.
That means asking for help. I don’t like doing that. It is the hardest thing in the world for me to do. I did it once. After my mother died. And still it took me a couple years to work up the nerve to ask for help.
Maybe...and this is a big MAYBE cuz I am putting a lot on a man that has no clue what’s going on in my head, but maybe if he stays true to who he seems to be it will give me the courage to ask for help.
Or maybe I should just woman up and pull that number out and make an appointment.
*rubbing my temples* Anyway, here’s what I wanted to send to him Saturday.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
5:30 am
I woke up cuz I had to pee. Its Saturday. Sleep late day. I don’t want to get up this freaking early! So, first I tried to convince myself I didn’t have to pee cuz if I got up then I would be up for the day and my bed felt so warm and comfy. If I just laid there and told myself I didn‘t have to pee then maybe I’d go back to sleep. It works sometimes.
5:52 am EST
It didn’t work. The sharp pain I got from my bladder made me think it had called me a bad name. More than a little annoyed at the bladder that was only doing its job I threw off the covers and made for the bathroom. I flipped on the light switch in the bathroom and the white light chased away the last of my warm sleepy feelings.
A little sulky over losing the argument with my bladder, I made my way to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I sat and sipped while I contemplated what I wanted to accomplish with my day. I made a list of errands I wanted to run. When I finished my water, I went back to bed and I hoped back to sleep.
I put on my headphones and listened to some music for a while. Next thing I knew it was after 7:00 am and I was still wide awake. Ugh! Mentally, I asked my bladder was it happy now? It remained stoically silent on the matter. Then what was I expecting. It is a bladder after all. So I gave up on sleep and I decided to get up and fix breakfast.
8:17 am EST
My home phone rang as I was finishing breakfast. As usual it wasn’t on the base. I followed the sound and found it lost in my bed covers. I checked the caller ID and cursed the early evil azzed telemarketers.
I threw the phone back on the bed, yawned and stretched before grabbing the cell and checking for drunken texts from friends. I smiled when I saw I had two texts.
First up was Betsy. She sent me a single word text : Gruml. Now what did that mean? She would hate me for replying so early. So, I gleefully hit the reply and send buttons. She never did answer me. *chuckle*
Second text was from Hotmail telling me I had an email from My Obsession! I opened my email, read his email and grinned a wicked grin I felt all the way down to my impish little toes. I stretched and yawned again before settling back in bed to compose a reply to match my grin...and fell asleep.
12:32 pm! EST
Again I woke up to the sound of my ringing phone. Damn it! Another telemarketer. I checked the time and couldn’t believe my day was being wasted sleeping! I spied my cell and remembered I was composing a wicked email to send to My Obsession when I fell asleep.
I checked the phone and my web browser awaited my action patiently. All manner of wickedness ran rampant through my mind. So, confident that I would come up with something really NSFW, I headed for the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a shower. I caught the mischievous set of my mouth and glint in my eyes in the mirror as I finished brushing my teeth and stepped into the shower.
Steam rose up from the hot spray as I poured my favorite citrus and wild ginger gel and worked it up into a thick white foam. I thought about his last question as I made foamy circles over my skin. Who would be the woman he decided to have celebrate his end to his celibacy?
Warm butterflies fluttered happily from my stomach down below the bikini line *snort me in a bikini*. Still, I lathered my body and wished I could just grab my passport and go! Then, I sighed as I watched the lather rinsed down off my cinnamon chocolate skin. I wished I’d met him about 2 1/2 years ago when I trusted myself more and was freer.
Then I really thought about it. I was never that free, I still had a job to consider but I had such a great boss back then it would have been nothing to take 2 weeks and just go thoroughly explore My Obsession.
As I stepped from the shower my heated skin turned to goose pebbles as the chill air hit me. I had forgotten to turn on the heat. Again. It turned cold early this year. Then as is Momma Nay’s way when it comes to Maryland, Momma Nay can never quite make up her mind when the cold weather is here to stay. It can be 80 on Friday and 35 Saturday morning.
This Saturday was turning out to be chilly and gray.
I wrapped a thick white towel around me and went into my equally chill bedroom. As I rubbed vigorously at my cooling skin I longed for wishes to come true.
If they did I would wish away the last 30 months of my life.
I’d wish that when I stepped from my bedroom I would step into My Obsession’s home.
I’d find you sitting at a table. Your hands folded stiffly in front of you. The world around you a blur as I focused solely on you. You’d sit contemplating great and wonderful things as the scent of wild ginger and citrus enveloped you. I’d tiptoe close to you and ease into the chair behind you. As if it were the most natural thing in the world for me to be there, you’d scoot forward making room for me.
The towel would inch up my thighs as I got comfortable. My real name would be a question on your lips. You’d say it perfectly. Delightfully. Somehow, I knew it would sound absolutely beautiful coming from you.
I’d press closer in answer.
Your warmth would steal the chill from my skin. My toes would warm themselves against your sock covered ankles. My calves would rub themselves against your denim covered calves. My thighs would press against the warm fabric covering your thighs. My arms would encircle your waist and my fingers would find their way under your shirt to your warm skin.
There’d be a hitch in your breath as my cool fingertips roamed freely over your heated skin.
I’d rest my chin on your shoulder as I caught your ear teasingly betwixt my teeth. I’d taste my new treat with the tip of my tongue.
Yum!
My mind would be in a conundrum about whether to draw blood or not.
As if you could read my mind you’d turn your head pulling your ear free. That would be just fine. I’d have nothing but time. So instead I’d press my warm lips against your jaw and breathe you in.
*BIG SIGH*
But wishes don’t come true and the last 30 months still gnaw at my confidence. So I pulled on a pair of jeans, in honor of my yummy fantasy, and readied myself to run errands. I went to the kitchen to take something out of the freezer for dinner before heading out.
As I headed for the front door, the gray sky opened up and rained hard and coldly down on my day.
You should know, dear Obsession, I can be cold or I can be wet and still be unbothered. To be cold and wet at the same time when I don’t have to be? Ah...no. I quickly went over the errands I had to run and decided they could wait. A drizzle I could handle. A torrential downpour? Uh uh!
So, I went back to my bedroom. Took off my clothes and lay back and listened to the rain music and thought about you for awhile .
********************
That there was pretty PG13. Trust me, there’s more. *wicked giggle* Yes, I still giggle! Anyway, I was gonna describe the lingerie I put on and the towel does not survive this encounter. It gets torn to make restraints...sigh...and if you can’t guess where it goes from there then you aren’t old enough to be reading this post. *chuckle* Or you are a virgin who has been brought up in the basement of a convent and you really should head back to that basement and stay away from the internet, TV, strangers, the world outside your front door, and me. *hands on hips glaring sternly*
Mercy! He just sent me the most delicious email that I just want to run wild with! Geez Louise, if only!
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Feminists
Feminists get on my nerves. They really do.
I mean, think about it. God in His infinite and wondrous wisdom made man. He made him with all kinds of wondrous talents. Like lifting things and fixing things and putting things together. Men don’t have to think “Righty tighty and lefty loosey”. I get confused just turning on my shower sometimes.
They like getting dirty working on cars and don’t give a crap about breaking their fingernails or getting dirt under them.
My manicurists (past and present) have always complimented me on the natural shape of my nails. The last time I chipped a nail I decided to cut it down on my own and call it a day. Afterall, it is just a fingernail and they do grow back.
However, when my manicurist saw what I had done she scolded me and gave me a FREE bottle of nail fix to hold me over until I could get to her the next time a nail chip happened. Therefore, I do my best to take care of my hands and nails becuz of all these women. My manicurist is on speed dial # 2.
So see, to me, men are just absolutely freaking wonderful. Most of the time. Don’t push it fellas. I know the same can be said for us women, too.
Then these gotdamn feminists come along and say women are equal and we can do this shyt ourselves.
Hello! *waves finger in a circle at the monitor* Nobody said we couldn’t do this ish ourselves! Read the Bible! No where in there does it say we women can’t do this ish ourselves! Its just hella more convenient and easier to let the men do it for us.
And y’all some men are so appreciative when I go all girly and let them do manish ish. Like killing bugs for me, and carrying stuff for me, and tightening stuff for me. They are so cute! Its like the more I gush the more they want to do for me. The more they do for me the more tickled I am! Its a win/win situation anyway I look at it.
I remember one time a friend of mine and her boyfriend offered me a ride home from college. On the way home he got a flat. He wanted to show us young women how to change a flat in case we ever needed to. He is one of those men who have been brainwashed by the feminists. There are a lot of them out there. I stays away from them type of men.
Anyway, I got out the car and strolled around to the passenger side where said flat tire was. I then informed him that I had no intention of ever changing a flat tire. He scoffed at me and said something insultingly highbrow I know cuz he was that type of college student.
I have always read a lot and in so doing I have a pretty large vocabulary. Therefore, I understood his insult I just chose not to respond becuz there is a God. And He seemed to be on my side this day becuz *chuckling in remembrance* as friend and her boyfriend disappeared on the passenger side to change the flat tire people kept stopping to ask me did I need help. Did I need a ride? Did I need help changing the tire?
I just barely kept a straight face. I thanked everyone who stopped kindly and assured them that help was on the way. I even got people asking did I need someone to stay with me while I waited.
LOL Oh my damn! He was hot when he got back in the car. I caught the two of them exchanging exasperated looks at least once. I truly believe that had he not believed I would have gotten a better ride home and that his car would have blown up from the bad karma he would have left me by the side of the road. They never offered to take me home again. That’s ok. Shortly thereafter college friend’s roommate put hickeys on boyfriend’s body. I ain‘t gonna go into where.
Men are absolutely freaking wonderful...most of the time.
I am truly tickled that though I have had a flat tire I have never changed a tire in my life. It is one of my dreams to be able to look back over my life and never have had to do such a thing. *shrug* You got your dreams and I got mine. Don’t judge.
But what gits on my nerves about feminists is that they have been trying to make me feel somehow less just because I like letting men do the things that they are so much more suited at doing than I.
I don’t want to chop down trees to build my chalet. When I do stuff like that I get big mucsles and my tiddays all but disappear. *shimmies Jasmine and Jocelyn* I like my tiddays becuz of how silly men act when I put the girls on display. And the way my girls sway gracefully to and fro lets me know they like being on display. So neither me nor my tiddays approve of said activity.
When men chop down trees and ish they get nice big mucscles and lovely well defined pecs. The men get pecs and I keep tiddays. It’s another win win situation as far as I am concerned.
*leans in consiratorially toward monitor*
And you know what? Now it’s just a theory but I think that a lot of times when men aren’t being absolutely freaking wonderful some feminist has done something to royally piss them off.
*shrug* Just my humble opinon. Hmm, I wonder if my old college chum did anything to royally piss off her old college boyfriend?
*leans back and tips highball glass at the monitor*
I mean, think about it. God in His infinite and wondrous wisdom made man. He made him with all kinds of wondrous talents. Like lifting things and fixing things and putting things together. Men don’t have to think “Righty tighty and lefty loosey”. I get confused just turning on my shower sometimes.
They like getting dirty working on cars and don’t give a crap about breaking their fingernails or getting dirt under them.
My manicurists (past and present) have always complimented me on the natural shape of my nails. The last time I chipped a nail I decided to cut it down on my own and call it a day. Afterall, it is just a fingernail and they do grow back.
However, when my manicurist saw what I had done she scolded me and gave me a FREE bottle of nail fix to hold me over until I could get to her the next time a nail chip happened. Therefore, I do my best to take care of my hands and nails becuz of all these women. My manicurist is on speed dial # 2.
So see, to me, men are just absolutely freaking wonderful. Most of the time. Don’t push it fellas. I know the same can be said for us women, too.
Then these gotdamn feminists come along and say women are equal and we can do this shyt ourselves.
Hello! *waves finger in a circle at the monitor* Nobody said we couldn’t do this ish ourselves! Read the Bible! No where in there does it say we women can’t do this ish ourselves! Its just hella more convenient and easier to let the men do it for us.
And y’all some men are so appreciative when I go all girly and let them do manish ish. Like killing bugs for me, and carrying stuff for me, and tightening stuff for me. They are so cute! Its like the more I gush the more they want to do for me. The more they do for me the more tickled I am! Its a win/win situation anyway I look at it.
I remember one time a friend of mine and her boyfriend offered me a ride home from college. On the way home he got a flat. He wanted to show us young women how to change a flat in case we ever needed to. He is one of those men who have been brainwashed by the feminists. There are a lot of them out there. I stays away from them type of men.
Anyway, I got out the car and strolled around to the passenger side where said flat tire was. I then informed him that I had no intention of ever changing a flat tire. He scoffed at me and said something insultingly highbrow I know cuz he was that type of college student.
I have always read a lot and in so doing I have a pretty large vocabulary. Therefore, I understood his insult I just chose not to respond becuz there is a God. And He seemed to be on my side this day becuz *chuckling in remembrance* as friend and her boyfriend disappeared on the passenger side to change the flat tire people kept stopping to ask me did I need help. Did I need a ride? Did I need help changing the tire?
I just barely kept a straight face. I thanked everyone who stopped kindly and assured them that help was on the way. I even got people asking did I need someone to stay with me while I waited.
LOL Oh my damn! He was hot when he got back in the car. I caught the two of them exchanging exasperated looks at least once. I truly believe that had he not believed I would have gotten a better ride home and that his car would have blown up from the bad karma he would have left me by the side of the road. They never offered to take me home again. That’s ok. Shortly thereafter college friend’s roommate put hickeys on boyfriend’s body. I ain‘t gonna go into where.
Men are absolutely freaking wonderful...most of the time.
I am truly tickled that though I have had a flat tire I have never changed a tire in my life. It is one of my dreams to be able to look back over my life and never have had to do such a thing. *shrug* You got your dreams and I got mine. Don’t judge.
But what gits on my nerves about feminists is that they have been trying to make me feel somehow less just because I like letting men do the things that they are so much more suited at doing than I.
I don’t want to chop down trees to build my chalet. When I do stuff like that I get big mucsles and my tiddays all but disappear. *shimmies Jasmine and Jocelyn* I like my tiddays becuz of how silly men act when I put the girls on display. And the way my girls sway gracefully to and fro lets me know they like being on display. So neither me nor my tiddays approve of said activity.
When men chop down trees and ish they get nice big mucscles and lovely well defined pecs. The men get pecs and I keep tiddays. It’s another win win situation as far as I am concerned.
*leans in consiratorially toward monitor*
And you know what? Now it’s just a theory but I think that a lot of times when men aren’t being absolutely freaking wonderful some feminist has done something to royally piss them off.
*shrug* Just my humble opinon. Hmm, I wonder if my old college chum did anything to royally piss off her old college boyfriend?
*leans back and tips highball glass at the monitor*
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
