Ransom notes keep falling from your mouth, mid sweet talk newspaper word cut outs.
Imogen Heap ~ Hide and Seek
Fuck, that just transported me back to a snowy New Year’s Eve, first set of holidays away from ex-hubby. It wasn’t going well. Sisterwife was already on scene, I was in Michigan and we ended up spending New Year’s in the lobby of a hotel due to blizzard. I was a wreck. Ant and I were text fighting. Then my sister from another mister puts that song on and I was happy for 4 minutes. Then back to fighting.
I have a love hate with Christmas.
I have a love hate with lots of things.
Rob Breszney says that pretty soon the warring sides of myself will heal and come to peace.
That’ll be nice.
What was sundered and undone shall be whole, the two made one. (Dark Crystal)
But for today…
I also have a love hate with football.
Every year Michigan State got into the Rose Bowl we always had to wait for Xmas dinner and/or presents.
My family is from Lansing Michigan. My dad played for the Spartans.
We didn’t get to put on our little ballet recitals with our tutus on the wooden table top, we didn’t get to eat my grandmothers amazing cooking and we always got Michigan State sweaters those years ,which meant one less toy.
Trying real hard to find the love…seems to be missing. Oh wait, tailgate parties, snuggling with mister while he watches and blowies during halftime. There it is.
I also have a love/hate with this Facebook memories thing.
6, 7, 8 years ago I flip flopped from home to homeless on a regular basis. Chronicled with such statuses as ‘I am a surfer of couches.’ I tend to skip over those as fast as I can but the alarming regularity with which they appear sometimes makes it impossible for them to not be burned into my retinas.
Then there was this little jewel from last year. I posted it as a memory to Facebook.
I need man advice.
I met a boy.
A really nice one and he is all purdy in the face and the mouth n stuff.
He says and does lovely things.
He also says he is ‘not much of a dater’.
My knee jerk reaction is to say ‘that’s okay we can just hang out’.
But I feel like this is a siren song to me.
And sirens tend to call, then bash my ship on the rocks and shred me.
I do want to hang out. Not sure if ‘more’ is required.
Just don’t wanna get bashed on the rocks again either.
What do I do?
Oh my lord the comments. So many comments. From ‘give it a shot’ to ‘he is a fuckboi, duck and cover’.
A few people missed the fact that it was a memory, not a current thing.
There were cries of horror over the untimely demise of the Lumberjack
I shared a memory today and it seems to have confused a lot of people.
I did it partially because on 5 hours sleep I had a hard time remembering who the fuck I was talking about, my mental timeline didn’t match his description.
The other reason I shared it was to write an article which will now be called ‘if you have to ask fb about a boy should you date him?’… the answer, sadly no.
It did however fill me with great joy as this means I was with fake soldja boy a lot less time than I previously thought.
Lumberjack and I are fine, the boy was bad. The end
I am on a continuing quest to bitch less and celebrate more. I do not think I am overly harsh when it comes to a large percentage of my exes. I rip on the Poet, ex-hubby more lately, Budget George and Graham. I did call the Giant a knight dressed in tinfoil who didn’t remember how to water his plants.
I am not going to bash Football either, the nickname given to said fuckboi.
He wasn’t that bad.
I don’t actually think he is a fuckboi per say. He did seem like he was genuinely ‘not a big dater’ which could explain how he got caught having dinner with me by the girl he was actually dating in under a week. And why after dinner we sat on my couch and talked while watching a movie and he didn’t try anything until he was leaving. It was a good kiss, he let me lead.
He was the result of one of them ‘movie moments’ that happen to me every so often. I was on stage at work, dancing to Marvin Gaye on a Tuesday and the entire front row sang along to Sexual Healing. Turns out it was a football team serenading me, which I didn’t find out until after I wrote my name and number on a napkin and handed it to him.
Pretty adorable if I do say so. The whole thing was, except the fact that he was dating a girl named Christine.
A few months later I saw him again. He was a little less shy. Ended up in my bed, but that didn’t last long. We watched the entirety of Constantine, all the way through the credits and there was a hidden scene, who knew. Happier ending than what I got.
I did get to see him naked though and Jesus. He looked like a moving Greek statue.
Two morals of the story. 2.5 actually.
One…if the 24 year old cums fast (and he did) the chance of a quick reload is pretty good. Don’t waste your time trying to make him feel better just get back on it.
Two…Something About Mary should be mandatory viewing for every male of dating age. Rub one out before you go out.
Point 5…if you have to check with your Facebook peeps about a boy, he will definitely bash your feelings on the rocks, and not your head on your headboard.