Mourning The Loss Of Possibility

Funny enough, after having a conversation yesterday where I mention that most dating bloggers are f’n crazy. I then proceed along my day only proving that statement true for myself.

1. I call some strange dude that I’ve never met. I know. I know.

2. I head out to get groceries and stalk the pool on the way to and from my car looking for Mr. Hot German.

3. I break down in tears over someone I’m not dating, whom I’ve never met, and proceed to want to get obliterated with alcohol because of it.

1 & 2 are normal crazy for me. 3… well I’m gunna blame hormones, but really its more involved than that.. which honestly does make me crazy.

See, I have loved this guy for a long time. We’ve slowly been getting to know each other. When we first met, he wanted nothing to do with a relationship and I did.

He’s honestly the only person since my divorce that I haven’t “broken out into hives” at the thought of getting into a relationship. Partly because we seem to understand each other, and partly I suppose because we’re miles apart and it seems more like a fantasy than real reality.

We’ve talked while we dated other people. He’s asked my advice several times when courting a new girl, but its never been anything serious.

Then last night, he asked my advice on proposing to her. This girl he’s been dating for a little while.

See when someone I care for, asks me for advice, I auto-pilot to give them the best advice I know, without any reguard for myself. It is how I am. I could be selfish and help him destroy his relationship, but I couldn’t face myself in the mirror let alone face him. Because honestly, I sincerely just want him to be happy, even more than the desire to be the one that makes him happy.

I’d been as clear as I could be about my feelings without actually sending him naked pictures labeled “Do Me” or sending him some silly love note. I’m also not keen, since my ex, to be the one making the overtures. I really want a guy who wants me enough, not to let me go.

It doesn’t much matter anyway. He’s head over heels. A goner. I’m sure I can hope that she’ll say no, but I know she won’t. He’s that great of a catch.

So last night, I drank up while crying into my wine. Maybe I’ll find one of my own, someday.

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Simply Frustrated

I was at a meeting last night, which I was told… “My goodness woman, you should be rolling in the dough.” when I explained exactly what it was that I do.

I honestly do 3 things. I’m pretty good at two of them, and more than adequate at the other. The adequate one is the one I’m working on the most right now. Its easy. The other two are “fun” projects.

It never fails though that when I tell people the 3 things that I do, they will tell me which one I should be concentrating on to make lots of money.

“You know #1 will make you tons of money.”

“Wow, I really could use someone who does #2, you could make a lot of money at that.”

“You do #3?? I have a bunch of friends who need you. Start your own business. You’ll make tons of money.”

It’s really annoying. Mostly since I’m not making any money (ok I’m making some money, but not enough to cover bills) on any of them right now. and that no one seems to agree on which one I should be doing.

Also annoying… I’m not meeting anyone my age when I go out. It might be some kind of mental problem of mine, or maybe the world just really wants me to date someone much much older or much much younger.

Actually the other day I was making fun of this guy who I ran into on OkStupid who keeps trying to connect me with guys I would have babysat in HS. This guy claimed to be 35, but looked and dressed in his pictures as if he was maybe 23. So I complained to Holi that he was lying about his age.

She replied, “Well now isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”

Which I got offended.. Cuz I don’t lie on dating sites. Period. Instead she explained,

“How many times do you bitch about guys writing you off because they think you’re too young for them?”

Holi is really a bitch sometimes. 🙂

I look young. It’s not a conscience effort. I don’t do botox or get face lifts. I honestly have never really worried about wrinkles. (knocking on wood as I type this) I just haven’t aged that much in the last 20 years. In HS, I looked early 20’s, and now I look roughly late 20’s maybe early 30’s. Absolutely no one ever thinks I’m 37, and often look at me like I’ve grown a third head when they do find out. (I also often get asked about my skin care regimen – Oh how do I stay so young?)

So anyway, back to the men I’m meeting. Pierce btw… 11 yrs younger than me. The rocker guy (I’ve not mentioned yet) 11 yrs younger than me. The annoyingly chipper but cute salesman type guy at the bar last night who locked me into an entire 45 minutes of conversation, is 11 yrs younger than me.

The other men I’m meeting are all much older. One I kinda have a crush on, is 49 and won’t give me the time of day because I’m too young (you should see the wrinkly women he does hit on). Others are 48-65. Some are attractive men and some just remind me of creepy old men.

What I really need to find is the German guy from my pool again. I’m a bad judge of age on sexy men with chests of steel, but I guarantee you he was at least my age or older. (Did I mention that I was walking by the pool to get to my car.. I see him through the break in the trees toweling off. He’s dark haired, chiseled, and wet. I can’t stop watching. He’s watching me. I look away finally, he keeps watching me. Then when I look back at him, he waves me over with a come here hand gesture then asks me to join him. If only I wasn’t on my way to a meeting. Damn it.)

Anyone know where to find the 30-40’s men? Or are they all dead?.. er married I mean.

Stop The Muffin-Top Bra

OH DEAR LORD!

I don’t talk much about fashion though I have to say I definitely have some strong opinions on it. The other night I was watching late late night TV.. couldn’t sleep.. and came across a waste of time called “The Wendy Williams Show” which I watched mostly because I was doing other things and not caring a whole lot about what was on.

Then she started talking about fashion and had a fashion expert on the show. The fashion expert had some good tips, so I paid attention.

Then Wendy and a guest (not the fashionista) began to talk about bra selection. They both said that they thought (or used to think) that having that little bubble of breast hanging over the top of the bra was sexy. They both had been told by fashion experts to buy larger (better fitting) bras.

Dear Women of the World.. (men if you disagree please comment and tell me why)

Wearing your boobs out in public in a bra that is too small causing your boobs to bubble over the top or outside of the bra.. IS DISGUSTING!

Its not sexy. It makes you look like you’re fashion stupid or poor (can’t afford an appropriately sized bra) or just a trashy woman without any taste.

Please please please.. go into your nearest department store or lingerie shop with knowledgeable staff and get yourself measured for an appropriate size.

Unlike our shoes.. our boobs size can change at the drop of a hat. Weight gain. Weight loss. Even time of the month (hormonal) can cause size changes.. which in some women can be very significant. So you may need a couple choices of fits.

For most of us women, our boobs are one of our greatest selling features when dating. When we want to look good, a good bra can sometimes make or break an outfit. (Not to mention what a good bra can do for the .. umm.. gym. – As my childhood friend said about my sister as she ran to first base in softball “Holy Cow! She could knock herself out with those.”)

Honestly women.. I cannot stress this enough.. when it comes to fashion.. to looking good.. to making an impression.. a good fitting bra is essential.

A muffin-top bra is never acceptable. So stop it… stop it now!

The Hottest Guy Comes With Wheels

So the other night, I go to this networking meeting. Pierce was supposed to be there, but thats not entirely why I went. I do have my own life outside of the urge to stalk him.

Plus the fact that he didn’t reply to my DM the other day.. he’s a little bit in the doghouse. Honestly, I’d completely write him off if he wasn’t so damn attentive last I saw him… and well if he wasn’t so damn cute.

So anyway, I go. Pierce is not there. But I honestly only notice his abscense for about the first 5 minutes.

I enter and behind me in the entrance line is my old director and her beau. This is a networking thing for the geeky. I was a little shocked that she was there and that she’d heard about it. Weird.

Anyway, we get closer to the front of the line… there’s a couple in front of me.. when a loud voice from the table says “Hey Maruska! I got ya, just fill out a nametag.”

It’s my favorite hot happily-married man. So I grin at him.

“Whaaa? you know who I am?” I say jokingly while I fill out my nametag.

Well a few minutes later after checking out who all is there (aka not Pierce), my old director finds me.

“Hey, how’d you do that?”

I look at her like she’s grown a third eye as I try to jog my memory about what I might have just done.

“Huh?”

“At the entrance, how’d you do that?” She’s looking at me as if I’m the social guru of the year.

“Oh, yeah.. I know him. No biggie. I actually know quite a few of the people here. I’m kinda geek.” I admit as I am uncomfortable with her whole “omg you’ve got the hookup” attitude… though I was a little flattered by it. She’s the Who’s Who of Independant Theatre in Austin, so it was kinda funny getting on her “respect” list for networking.

“Oh wow, I didn’t know. I just heard about these things.” She says while looking around.

I’m looking around too, but mostly for someone to motion to me and save me from what is bound to me more uncomfortable talking.

I mention to her that I need to go say “Hi” to a few people and wish her a fun evening. Then I fled.

Of course, Pierce was a no-show the entire event. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t flirting around.

Actually, I wasn’t so much flirting around as I was being flirted with. Made my head spin a little. See my little business venture is getting around I think.. or else it’s given me some kind of pheromones to attract men.

There was one gentleman I’ve met like once before. Maybe twice, but pretty sure just once. I honestly don’t know his name. He’s hot. He’s sweet. But not normally what I go for.. so not really on my radar.

But evidently I am on his. Within minutes of him seeing me, he came over and said hello. He then entrapped me into a conversation (it wasn’t torturous, pleasant really, but he obviously was not letting me just flit on by). When he was interupted by a friend of his, I turned away to see who else was interesting to talk to..

Thats when I met the hottest guy.

Seriously when I tell you this guy is hot.. I mean hot… but probably not in the way most of you are thinking.

He was well kept. Great hair. Very hot face. Hot upper body. Looked like a relaxed GQ kinda guy. But what made him hot was his communication skills. The guy could talk to you and make you feel like the only woman in the room. He also listened like every word you said was gold. Two sentences in and I already wanted to nasty things to him. Sizzling.

Weirder still.. he’s in a wheelchair. Something that normally I’d see, and check off my list of viable. But honestly, it wasn’t really noticable. In a crowd of 50 people all standing, where his face had to be butt-high at best, I didn’t really notice his chair. I simply saw a hot man. That’s how smoking hot this guy is.

There are things more important than superficiality.

By the way, I wasn’t the only girl swooning over this guy. He and I got interupted, and I left to find out if my other friends had shown up. Sure enough they had, so I did some chatting. In between conversations though, I’d go and see if hot guy was available for chatting.

He never was. Every time I went to see if he was free, he was fully surrounded by hot women. Seriously surrounded.

*le sigh*

I finished the evening having made a couple new friends, and with a few more hours of flirting under my belt.

… And with a little sadness that I didn’t get to spend more time with the hot man.

No Need To Get High, I’m There Already

So I had this interesting conversation with a guy friend the other day, and as it turns out he might be a pothead.

Once upon a time when I was just a young innocent girl (yes I know it’s hard to believe now, shhh) this revelation would have shocked me, and I’d have backed away like he said he had lice and offered me some.

Anymore though.. especially with living in Austin like I do.. it was like he said he likes to go Kayaking or White Water rafting. Two things that I don’t do and have never done, but I can sort of relate to.. sort of.

I mean I’ve been in water. I’ve been tubing. I’ve rowed a canoe and a rowboat. I can extrapolate. I’m good like that. And I’m relatively certain that my exuberance level at rowing a canoe while the other occupants were trying to tip it mid-stream probably directly correlates to the excitement of white water rapids for others. (If I’ve not mentioned my fear of water with fish in it before, please insert that context into here.) Let’s just leave out my experience with tubing while being chased by a water moccasin. They were exciting adventures. Thrilling. and semi-death defying (shut up they were too).

But back to the chat about Mary-Jo-Wanna…

I’m honestly not sure how we got to talking about it. But we started to talk about getting high and had I experienced it.

Most of my life, though I was pretty much a goody-two-shoes.. still kinda am, people often looked at me like I was.. well.. high. I related well with potheads. It wasn’t until a few years ago, that I really figured out why. And this conversation with my friend only cemented this theory for me.

See as my friend and I talked about getting high on pot, the more he explained.. the more I explained about my experiences with being “high”…

FYI… I’ve never smoked pot. Just in case you were worried. I did get a second hand high once, that was enough.. thanks.

Anyway.. the more I realized that I didn’t need Mary-Jo.

See, I get high with certain allergic reactions. (I know crazy right?) Just ask my friends. They’ve seen it. One minute I’m all fluent in English and having logical thought patterns.. the next I’m.

well.. I’m..

“Trapped in body with a broken babblefish”

And everything you say sounds like “Waaaaa Waaaaa Waaaa” (yes the Charlie Brown parents’ speak).

The world gets a little unsteady, movement feels quite like an amusement park ride, and I turn into bonafide “stupid”.. I seriously have trouble remembering my name.

I even sometimes get the munchies later.

So I don’t need no Mary-Jo.. I can get my high cheap, legally… well of course a little death defying..

Which is why I avoid it.

PS: That one time I did get second hand Mary-Jo high.. Scared the ever-loving crap out of me, I thought I was having an allergic reaction. Fortunately, no.. it just rendered me uncoordinated and a moron for a few hours. Phew.

The Read Non-Date Date Kinda

So last night I got to hang out with Pierce. It wasn’t a date or a planned event. I didn’t message him “see you tonight” even though I knew he was planning on going… I am part stalker btw… because we weren’t going together or even going to meet each other. We just both happened to be going to the same place.

Now I hoped that last night would pan out so that Pierce and I could get some one on one time, but my expectations were not high.

I get there and its wall to wall people. I see one person that I “know” and he sort of knows me. Matt knows who I am by my face. I doubt he knows my name, and while this guy is salesman nice (to everyone) he more often than not tries to get away from me asap. Its like I’ve got cooties.

So I say “Hi” to Matt, he says “Hi” in return. There’s an awkward moment, and Matt flees.

I go to the bar, grab a drink, a stiff drink, and look around for other people I might know or want to get to know. The group of people is ecclectic at best. There’s locals dressed “as you are”, business types dressed accordingly with fancy suits and well coiffed hair (obviously gay or completely new to town), and a mix of ordinary well adjusted people who dressed normal for being where we were and outside in the heat.

I’m busy watching the show when Pierce walks in. He sees me, gives me a hug, and stays to chat a bit. Mostly just talking about who is here and who we know. I mention that I only know Matt and point out where he is. Shortly thereafter, Pierce excuses himself and says something about going to say Hi to Matt. To be honest, I wasn’t listening. I was trying to watch the show and heard that he was going, and tuned out.

About 20 minutes later, when the show was over, Pierce returns to me and we talk. We talk about his work and my potential work, and this thing and that thing… and politics and BP.. He may or may not have made joking references to being too busy in college trying to get laid, and I may or may not have described my bed to him with a little too much detail (hey it fit in with the conversation I swear)… and.. then Pierce excuses himself to go to the bathroom saying quite clearly that he’ll be right back.

This time.. unlike the last time we’d hung out… It wasn’t said awkwardly or like he felt I needed some kind of pathetic reassurance in order to extracate himself… this time he said it solidly as a promise of “We’re not done here.” There was no question about it.

But I also didn’t want to just sit there twiddling my thumbs waiting for him to return. I wanted to talk to a few of the performers, and took that chance to do so.. while keeping an eye on the spot where I was, watching for his return.

I barely got a few words in with a couple performers before I saw him return looking for me. (insert big grin and an inner happy dance) So I tried to catch his eye to show him where I was. He saw me talking to the performers and came and sat down a few feet away from my new position and waited. (insert swoon)

He didn’t seem irritated. He just sat and waited. Patiently. Until I finished doing what I was doing. He didn’t come over and try to horn in on the conversation or try to pull me away. He just waited. He didn’t seem impatient or signal me to hurry up. He just waited his turn, patiently.

I seriously wanted to take him home and fuck him something rotten for that. After years of my ex being grumpy and impatient and belittling whatever it was I wanted to do… and being upset with me if I didn’t do what he wanted to do and just socially been a complete pain in my ass… This was a breath of fresh air, and had we been in a relationship, Pierce would have gotten some mad crazy girl sex. Just sayin.

Left to my own devices, I probably would have prolonged my interaction with the performers quite a bit longer.. but seeing Pierce look so deliciously patient and waiting for me.. I cut out of the conversation before I would have otherwise.

Sexy intelligent man vs really cool important people who won’t remember your name tomorrow? Uh sexy man please!

So I sat down next to Pierce, and we talked some more. And talked. And talked. Though it didn’t seem like time was really passing, other than that crazy ache to kiss him and the visual of the sun setting, I’m not sure time really passed at all while we talked.

And he was sweet. Seriously sweet. At one point the sun was in my face when I would turn to talk to him, he, of his own accord, moved his head between mine and the sun blocking it completely from hitting my face. He did this without calling attention to what he was doing. He didn’t even say “is that better” like he was expecting a thank you or calling attention to his chivalry. He just did it, and seemed pleased enough that in doing so the conversation continued to flow. He held that position, moving slightly in response to any change in my position, until the sun itself had moved to a less problematic spot. (How can I not swoon?)

We got up to refresh our drinks, and he stayed with me… not like a leech, he wasn’t glued to my side.. but near me. We continue talking once we’ve gotten new drinks, and as we’re finishing our drinks, Pierce mentions that he needs to go. I agree that its probably time to go, though in all honesty I wasn’t ready to part. I had no idea what time it was, but I was pretty sure by the fact that we were the last people there that it was in fact time to go home.

“You want to walk out together?” Pierce asks.

I barely catch it and I think that’s what he said.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” I reply.

We coordinate our exit, and walk out together. As we approach every juncture where we could have parted ways, he says “I need to go (insert direction)..” with a silent hestitation implying “which direction are you?” while almost guiding me seamlessly along as we walked together.

We went part of the way to our cars together, alas there was a fork in the road where we parted ways. We hugged quickly. Said we’d had a good time.

“Until next time” he said… or maybe it was “I’ll see you around, at the next thing” ? I don’t recall.

All I know is that there is something there. It might be as simple as friendship, or it might be something more. We’ll see.

The Dreams That Disappoint

The Setup.. It’s our first date, some months in the future after we’ve managed to run into each other several times at several different events, he finally asks me out. We decide to play some mini-golf.

It’s around the second to last hole, that conversation becomes strained. Neither of us is talking which is highly unusual.

I am stressing myself out about it. I actually like that I feel relaxed enough around Pierce that I can be quiet, but I’m afraid he’ll see me as boring or worse that I’m bored with him. Finally he speaks.

“You’re being awfully quiet.” He jokes with a big smile on his face.

Its impossible not to catch his smile, and so I grin back at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit preoccupied.” I try to hide the slight embarassed blush that I know is creeping along my face.

“Mini-golf isn’t that challenging, so what’s got your tongue? Is it work?” He’s genuinely concerned and wanting to help with whatever is the problem, but also seeing the blush, he’s curious.

“No no… work is fine.” I say as I hold my putter judging just where to stand and how hard to hit the ball. “I’m just preoccupied with this problem I’m trying to figure out how to solve.”

“Oh? Maybe I can help.”

I laugh, “I’m sure you can” and shoot him a look with a clear glint in my eye and mischevous smile.

“Well, tell me then.” He’s now much less concerned, and much much more curious.

“Well, see my mind is completely preoccupied with wanting to kiss you. And not quite sure how to solve it.”

He snickers slightly, “Hmm that is a problem. But I am quite sure it is solveable. Though I don’t really see much problem in it.”

“Well, see for starters, its quite impossible to do with you being over there.” I say as I adjust my stance again, pretending to be concentrating on my shot.. but if I’d have been pretending to read a book, the book would have been upside down for all the true attention I was paying to what I was doing.

Pierce then walks over to me, and stands very close in front of me. His left leg on the right side of my putter, his right leg on the left side of my putter, and my hands just barely a half inch away from his crotch as I held my putter.

I looked up at him and met his gaze. Having him so close made my pulse go all haywire. I was excited, scared, and wanting to run.. but immobile.

“There. Does that solve the problem for you then?” He said with a sly grin teasing me as his face was now just inches from mine.

“Well yes that does make it much much more possible. But I didn’t really tell you the real problem.”

“Oh?” He raised one eyebrow in curiousity.

I look into his eyes to deliver my confession, “See, what I really want is for you to kiss me..” which I barely get out before his hand moves up and lightly brushes my cheek on its way to the back of my neck. His fingers planted themselves at the back of my neck gently pulling me forward, while his thumb pressed just lightly under my jawbone to direct my face up leaving my lips easily accessible.

Then his lips possessed mine in a light caress that deepened to restrained desire.

The kiss stopped as abruptly as it began, and it affected us both equally. There was a brief moment of mutual silence as we regained our proverbial footing.

“So, did that solve the problem?” He teased playfully as he removed his hand from my neck.

“No.. not really” I replied as I let go of my putter and wrapped my arms around his neck pulling him in for another kiss. He wrapped his arms around me, and we kissed the kind of kiss that parents shield their kids from viewing. The kind of kiss that if it was feasible would allow clothes to fly off with a single thought.

This time it was I who ended the kiss abruptly. Moved my hands back to my putter, and said…

“Ok, I’m good now… Hmm you’re in a compromising position, you might want to move before I putt”

I pretended to be all about golf, and giggled when he grumbled slightly as he realized our makeout session was over.

But as our eyes met after my shot, one look confirmed.. the only thing between us and being naked.. was golf.

We quickly finished the last hole, and went to his place. We drive separately, and he’s waiting outside for me when I drive up. We embrace, kiss, and don’t really stop until we’re finally inside.

Things start to get fuzzy around this part.. but I remember running my hands down his chest and then sliding his shirt up over his head.. (and there.. hot and bothered.. it ends).

The Dream Genie Sucks

Sorry I’ve been AWOL lately. I’m still attempting to do this on my psychotic laptop, as well as start a business, do business plans, and the mirade of other crapola that goes along with it. I’m just hoping like hell that this venture takes off. Crossing fingers.. and maybe toes… if it does like it seems its going to.. I’ll be busy buying my dream computer. Right now weighting if that would be an investment or a luxury.

But back to men.. and dating… and me being a little crazy.

I’ve been having dreams lately. Those sexy dreams.. the ones where you start picturing them naked, and thinking of all the things you want to do with them. Yeah those dreams.

And.. Pierce has been making a regular appearance. Which means I do (damn it) like him… but it also is problematic.

See.. my body/brain knows I like him. There’s still that odd hope of “this might be something”.. which means until its really something, until I’ve actually seen him naked or until I’ve completely ruled him out as a possibility.. My mind refuses to actually undress him or imagine much of anything that isn’t readily seen… aka I’ve pictured his bare chest, because the last time I saw him his tshirt was so “fitted” that there was little left to the imagination.

So while my dreams start off sexy, and you know darn good and well that they’re headed to Nakedtown, they never actually make it there.

Last night, I had this fantastic dream (which I might write up later) setting Pierce and I up for a very hot romp.. and then when it came to the hot romp itself.. The dream would die, or start over at the begining.. it did end up going to a sex romp later, but it wasn’t with Pierce, just some nameless faceless guy. *sigh*

Even my dreams won’t give me satisfaction. This sucks.

Wishfully Wrong

I may have been wrong.

Maybe.

It’s really hard to say because I am so very often right (really I’m not full of myself or anything), so this is completely new to me… its really hard to say.

But ..

He thought of me today.

It wasn’t one of those “Hey sweety, I was thinking of you” sort of messages. But he saw something that reminded him of a conversation we had, and sent me a link to update me on it. Aka “Saw this, thought you’d find it interesting [link to article about what we’d talked about]”

Guys.. if you really want to win a girl.. and have a relationship.. shit like that will get you everywhere.

Remembering random things that she’s said from previous conversations.. for example this particular thing was from a conversation that happened about a week ago… and giving her more information on that topic or asking her input on a link about that subject..

If she likes you at all.. she’s going to swoon. It shows that you do listen to her, but not only that.. you listened to the point that when you saw that topic again, you not only had a passing thought of her, but had a strong enough thought of her to go out of your way to tell her about the topic or inform her on something you thought she might care about based on that conversation.

So.. right now I’m swooning a bit. Ok, I’m swooning a lot.

So.. maybe I was wrong.. maybe he does like me?

Or maybe he just really happened across something, and figured as a friend I needed to know?

I’m just going to go with… he likes me. Because a little delusional hopeful thinking never hurt anyone.. right?

Plus.. I rock. How could he not?

Indulging My Inner Sadist

There is one day a month where I am quite clearly not normal. On this lovely day, I have a huge undercurrent of angry. I might be able to smile and put on a good show, but more than likely if you hit any of my buttons, I will attempt to take your head off and put it in my pocket as a souvenir.

Every girl has this day.. some have more than one.. some have a week.. some have just a couple hours.. but every girl has this day.

Where the pain only subsides with doses of medication. The hormones run free like the niagra falls. And men suddenly lose their humanity and become beings to enslave and torture.

Or that could just be me.

I have one day a month where I get mentally violent. If I had no will-power, no conscience, no ethics, no religious belief, no rationality, and no fear of being locked away… this one day a month, people would die, people would be tortured and maimed.. it would be carnage.. carnage everywhere!

Ok maybe not everywhere.. I’m generally in enough pain that moving outside of my bedroom for the first few hours takes an act of God. So probably would just be carnage in the bedroom.

Fortunately for us all, I do have powerful doses of empathy, rationality, and conscience. As such I keep murderous and sadistic tendancies to my imagination.

Thus I am mentally violent. This sometimes comes out in my writing as violent wording and sometimes plain threats of violence as well. I also tend to love to say “Bastard” and “Asshole” about everything and anything that may go wrong.

If you’re a man in a relationship with me, trust me.. that one day a month is spent picturing myself sadistically torturing your privates so you get to feel like I do once a month. I probably won’t tell you that, because it’ll scare the crap out of you and make you want to alert the FBI to watch my place for furture murders.

While I say a day.. its generally just 6 hours.

During these 6 hours, I will be bitchy. I will push people away. I will hermit. If you’re sweet, you’ll want to help me by bringing me things or getting me some pills.. and while I’ll secretly love it, I will also grumble and quite likely to tell you to F off.

This is for your own safety. Remember, I am likely picturing myself kicking you in the balls despite the fact that I may love you or care for you deeply. It is because of that that I will want you far far away from me.. so I don’t actually kick you in the balls.

(Because when all this is over, I’ll still want you to come around… and I’ll be happy that I didn’t maim you.)

I will also give you a heads up warning.. “Hey honey, its started.” You will learn these words are a signal to make yourself scarce. At first, you’ll try..but eventually you’ll just start running. I won’t blame you for that. However, you will share half the blame for anything that occurs if you stay around.

You were warned after all.

So if you want to avoid being maimed and tortured, run away and then send flowers from wherever you are. I’ll text you when its safe to return.. I mean if I want you to come back. 😉

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