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Guess who showed up last night?

The Giant.

Not physically, he just texted. But that was enough. It’s been 84 years, or like a month really.

They all do this. Disappear and reappear. But last night felt like the universe was throwing me a curveball and it hit me in the ear.

It was already a perfect storm for emotions. I pre-warned everyone and had napkins in my purse.

Kinda for a minute thought I was gonna be okay.

Then the bing of a text.

Said he was drunky and had a story for me. So I sat on the stairs at work and listened to a tale of how his hot neighbor that he tried to date until she made it abundantly clear that she wanted a baby RIGHT NOW, had found a pair of my panties in his bed. I was drunky too and I can’t quite remember the rest of the story but she’s moving in 4 months and hostile and it was really good to hear his voice.

We both admitted to purposefully leaving the other one alone, with great effort.

He said he got laid the night before and it was disappointing.
Reminded me of how it always was with us after. Listening to music and just touching until we fell asleep. Lightning bolts in our fingers.
I know the feeling babe and I am sorry I spoiled you but you spoiled me too.

He was the hardest thing about leaving.

I spent my first month here in tears. Probably a little longer than that if I am being totally honest.

Been good about it the last little while, keeping my eyes dry.

Not last night.

Intellectually I knew I shouldn’t be drinking. But I did it anyways.

My uterus is in full war mode and revolt, we didn’t have enough girls for me to get an extra day off this week. My day off was not what I thought it was going to be. My pain level is at a 6 and breaching at an 8. And I am disappointed.

Not a good day to be drinking but alas.

It’s a Thursday. Notoriously bad for this kind of thing.

Shenanigans ensued.

I think if I ever sit down to write about my adventures here the book will be called “I was drunk the entire time. But mostly on Thursdays.”

He, the Giant, keeps telling me he is coming for me and then he doesn’t talk to me for a month.

Seems to be the story of my life.

Varying levels of fuckbois, all the same with different faces and talents and timelines. A never-ending game of “come here/go away.”

And I have to keep reminding myself that this is the choice I made, to be this way. To live and date this way. Makes for good blog fodder I suppose.

My ex-husband said if I kept going like this I would end up old and alone with only memories. Isn’t that kinda the point? To live and remember the adventures?

547 posts, this makes 548. 8 have been set to private and 90% are about lovers past and present. Giant probably has more posts to his name than any other. Not probably, definitely.

84 actual years could go by and I would still pick up the phone if he called. And so it is with 90% of them.

Nope showed up last night and I did a grand job of pretending to be mad while still holding onto him by the hoodie. But I am not. Didn’t help he got a haircut and looked cute as fuck.

I remember watching Brokeback Mountain finally, years after it came out. It was a rainy day in Parry Sound right before the lodge opened for the season. I had heard that line over and over again

“I wish I knew how to quit you.” and it resonated to my core. This is me, summed up in a movie quote about gay cowboys in love.

Because there was more to it…isn’t there always?

“You have no idea how bad it gets! I’m not you… I can’t make it on a coupla high-altitude fucks once or twice a year! You are too much for me Ennis, you sonofawhoreson bitch! I wish I knew how to quit you.”

Jack: Once in a while? Every four fuckin’ years?

Ennis: If you can’t fix it, Jack, you gotta stand it.

Jack: For how long?

Ennis: For as long as we can ride it

There is nothing to fix. It just is what it is.

And ya, sometimes you have no idea how bad it gets.

And then, when I am least expecting it, something good comes through the door.

Not hurt, just irritated. Just did what I said he was gonna do. Heaven forbid I ever get to be wrong.

I sat in my tiny little strip club by the sea on Saturday night, cards in hand, watching Tina laughing and winning. Whiskey in my sippy cup but still sober and being stubborn about it. My Josh and Stacey home from forever away and life was good for minute or two.
Three girls who had previously been angry with me over varying things were suddenly making small talk and being nice again, and I was happy.
Peace is good, I like peace.

I actually stated out loud “I think this is the first time since I have been here where no one is mad at me.”

It was time for a change.

The only constant is change. Even when it feels like you are doing the same thing over and over, there are subtle differences if you look close enough.

Especially when you feel the change as it’s happening and have to wait for the truth to catch up.

Woke up this morning, had my coffee and my smoke on the couch, looked out the window like I have every other morning and lo, upon the bare branches of yesterday, there were green buds. The leaves are coming.

I struggled my first month here. The weather was shit the money was shit and I felt like shit.

Second month got better.

Now I am a good way through the third. And I feel like that, tenacious green where there was only grey before. Blooming in spite of myself. Predicting the future. You know, the usual.

Once upon a time I met my first real fuckboi. Named him Wolfling, he growled a lot and looked like Logan/Wolverine, but the youngling version. He was my first bag of frozen peas experience in many, many, many moons and I found myself craving him in spite of myself.

That was 4 years ago. He saw me last year at a bar, right around now if memory serves and immediately blew up my phone with the howl of the fuckboi. You are so beautiful, wyd, wanna come over and hang out, do you remember where I live.

Of course I remember and no I am not coming over.

He was the one who forgot everything, what I look like and what my mouth do. Seeing me triggered his memories of how sweet I can be.
It happens often.

Shouldn’t have forgotten in the first place.

I remember everything and I delete nothing. Scrolling back after those  texts I saw the pattern. Clusters of messages and “good morning/good night beautiful” texts that became increasingly spaced out. Every few days, begat every few weeks, to every few months then nothing for a year.

He broke a few dates and I let him.

Don’t let them.

WHAT WE TOLERATE IS WHAT WE RECEIVE.

Wolfling was a gateway douchebag. I know that now.

There have been others.

They all bring lessons.

I am learning.

Effort versus reward.

When the effort stops and becomes excuses, is when I leave.

Row, row, row your boat the fuck away from me.

Predicting the future doesn’t take the sting out of it, just gives me a few extra days to process what’s happening.

I called it when I called myself flavor of the month.

It’s been a calendar month. I realized that when I was counting my days off, the one fucking day I get a week and the dangling carrot that was no longer there.

Tiny crushes and bullets dodged. He has now fully earned his nickname and I have yet to be proven wrong.

I’m not broken, the situation is.

3 years ago I left future me a message upon the Facebook…

“Tom Waits and Elsa are performing a rather interesting mash up of Hold On and Let it Go in my head.”

Followed by “If something seems to good to be true, it’s Satan in a Sunday hat.”

Ima be Elsa.

Not today Satan, not today.

I’ve been a magical magpie stripper this week. Men keep gifting me blue and shiny things.
Gifts include…
Denim shirt (I kinda stole that one, but he let me)
Diamond ring
Silver ring
Pulp fiction lighter (tried to give it back, I swear)
Pretty white gold chain
And ya. A large group of US military men walked in. I looked at one of them and said “I am leaving with that shirt on, mark my words.”
Yep, I totally got a Deadpool shirt off a dude from Alabama, he let me walk downstairs with it (and nothing else) on and his army buddies cheered me out the door. After tipping us all and treating us like queens.
God bless the troops and Yay me.

I needed this.

Guess I got my swagger back.

The Deadpool shirt night was also my second $1000+ night since I got back here.

Needed that more than I can express in English, I’ve been feeling like a struggling unicorn.

Don’t be too jealous, I had to fucking WORK for it.

You have no idea.

Best line of that particular night.
After 4+ hours of dealing with a giant child/ drunk lawyer who repeatedly told me
I wasn’t worth anything because of my profession/you’re so smart you should be doing something better with yourself/fuck you
A nice man overheard everything, bought me a shot then took me upstairs and simply said

“I apologize for my gender.”

There is hope.

I always find the hope in these places. Usually in the form of Younglings defending my honor. People getting me home when I am too fucked to function and the ones that get me that fucked up and bring me rings to apologize.

There is always the bad too. But they are blissfully rare.
I know there are a lot of misconceptions about strip club customers.
I would say 90% ish are just regular dudes.
A few pervs, but very few.
And then there is this special brand of asshole who sees another guy having a good time with a girl or two and makes it his mission to interfere intervene and just be an angry little douche canoe.
Happened when the boy would come by and happened again last night.
Just no, mind your business and let the people be happy. Fuck.

Some research group somewhere polled a bunch of strip club patrons asking why they went to strip clubs. Entertainment, someone to talk to were the main reasons but the scary one was so they could turn down and insult women that were out of their league.

It happens.

The group of American Military dudes also heard the drunk lawyer baby berating me and got between said douchebag and I outside, and a few of them made a point of asking me if I was okay.

I am.

Been through worse. There were 3 days in a row where men decided grabbing licking my ass was a good thing to do.

Narrator: It was NOT a good thing to do.

I get that my butt looks like a nicely decorated well framed peach but NOTHING OF MINE GOES NEAR YOUR MOUTH.

I didn’t end well. I know ju jitsu. And I am very protective of my body even when I fill it full of whiskey.

Which I also did for 3 days, not the same days but still.

Everything in 3’s and I am glad that phase is over with.

The first butt licking incident occurred when I was beyond wasted. A tiny blond stripper had to come get me and keep me from unleashing more hell, and she had to do up my bra. It was being tricksy. And yet another Youngling came to my rescue when Tina and Alex couldn’t figure it out either and their nails got in the way. They found a safe boy to dress me and apparently I greeted him with a big grin and my arms out like Jesus on the cross.

I wish there was video sometimes. Like when my manager notices me going from functioning to wasted in 2 seconds and asks me how I manage. My answer, and now the code word for “give Sarah some water” is me answering with a shit eating grin simply stating “Magic.”

I do have my magic back.

And a Deadpool t-shirt.

And a lot of hope for the future.

Oh for a moment
What a moment this is
Oh for a moment of forgetting
Is a moment of bliss
Peter Gabriel

I woke up at 9 yesterday morning, without a hangover. Sun shining, up early and aware for the first time in a while and I realized why my tiny orchid is struggling, poor baby was getting direct sunlight. They don’t like that.

I had to buy an orchid. The amaryllis has gone back into hibernation and I need living things in my room, something to look after, keep me tethered here.

I planted it when I got back from Newfoundland the first time and it came up beautifully. I named it Hope and it was well looked after and loved.  I cut it back before I left for Mexico and figured that was that. It could live in storage with everything else and bloom again next year. But as I was getting ready to come back here a month later, there was a tiny sprout, so I brought it with me. Still calling it Hope. Still watering it daily and speaking nicely to it.

I took it as a good omen.

It sent up 5, 3 foot leaves and never did blossom the second time around. Went through weird cycles of perking up, then drooping like it was over then perking right back up again. I finally gave up Friday and cut it back. Put it somewhere cold and dark till next time.

This is both absolute truth and a fucking metaphor.

I am not sure why I decided to keep a record of every fucking feeling I have ever had, but I do.
Just opened an old, seemingly harmless, innocuous blog post and ended up bawling over a line or two. Three really.

“You spoil me” he said, right after, as he was holding onto me like the grail.

I know he meant it as a compliment but it tore through me like a knife. Echoes of ___________.

I dug my fingers into him, trying to keep my grip on this reality and just stay in it for a minute.

That seems like a different life. But it was the end of January. I was speaking of Big Spoon for the record.

The more things change the more they stay the same.

It is still so weird quoting myself.

And while digging through my old mess looking for things to post I realized I forgot to delete “Friday Night Fights (Nfld. Part 4).”

I have deleted everything from that chapter of my life.

It’s now gone but not forgotten. I couldn’t read any of them anyways. I know exactly what happened and I know what I wrote.

I meant every word.

It is my blessing to remember everything, even if I don’t write it down and I do, at great length whilst leaving trap doors for myself to fall through.

For the record, I have not forgotten why I am here. How could I?

Maybe that is why I have been drinking so much. If I am blacked out I don’t remember. If I am sober I have to use the other stairwell, the cold one by the door.

Nah, nothing is anyone’s fault but my own. I know this. I am painfully shy sober, I have stage fright, time moves quicker when I am drinking and I honestly enjoy a good buzz. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy. The problems arise when I drink too much and get sleepy and stabby.

I picked a really odd job all things considered.

First night after my third round of deciding to sober up, again.

Made 100
Drank but didn’t get drunk.
I have 5 packs of Marlboros
Thank you to Josh for the smokes and for questioning my request for a whiskey.
His inquiry made me check myself, and he was the only one who even tried to stop me.

I am trying hella hard to be better to my body. My heart, not so much.

Letting go is a messy process sometimes and I am terrible at it.

My friend Lorri gets it…

You’ll “let it go” a hundred times…trust me…but it’s always there, down deep, in the shadows between need and want. We can say “bullet dodged”, but we don’t believe it. Not really…

No it isn’t. It’s an amaryllis bulb in a cupboard that failed to bloom a second time.

I keep waiting for the moment of clarity, and it hasn’t come. I am watching another one slip away and I am detached, like watching something on a movie screen. The “he’s gone” message of Friday morning is making more sense now, and I did not see that coming. Nope.

My buddy messaged me this morning in a slight panic.

“The strippers got me really drunk and I accidentally let slip some feelings for the unicorn.”

This whiskey tastes like I am about to tell you how I really feel.

“She messaged back with 4 hearts, so that’s good right?”

He has found himself a unicorn girl. Nigh impossible upon this island of harpies and sirens.

Yes. It okay.

Everything will be okay in the end.
If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.

See also, nothing is the end of the world except the actual end of the world, and then it really doesn’t matter now does it.

There are no accidents really.

Que cera cera whatever will be will be, the futures not ours to see…

I also told him that everything is as it should be, so don’t stress too much about drunk texts.

They are the bane of my existence too. Trust.

I am not working next Tuesday either.

Not one of my finer moments.

I try to live a life without regret, however, there are times when I should not be allowed to have my phone which happen to be the moments where I hold it most ferociously.

I once said “whiskey wants to know when you are coming home.”

That particular drunk text was well received and that whole situation went fine until it didn’t. And that is the secret dear friends, it’s all gonna be fine until it isn’t. Then we mourn, deal and move forward.

Apparently some scientists got together and decided that our true authentic selves come out when we are inebriated. Fuckity fuck fuck. I am saucy when sauced. Sometimes a puddle and sometimes very brave. Always babbling like a brook.

But we knew this. Drunk words = sober thoughts.

I also know how good it feels to find a unicorn after a long drought of nothingness. You start to believe you will never have the good sex, good conversations, good vibes ever again, and it sucks. So the fear of losing them exists, whether its rational or not.

I know more about how he feels about his unicorn than she does.
Fucking Libras and the chasing of the ladies. This drunken slip of the tongue came on the heels of a “victory” wherein he got her to message him first. This is not a game, it’s not war. I believe in telling people how you feel.

It is okay to be vulnerable sometimes. Stay too guarded and the truth won’t come out. That is the only real thing to ever regret. The chances you didn’t take, the words you didn’t say.

I am here aren’t I?

Alternately, tell the truth and run.

Speaking of, I think I am having some preemptive empathy for said drunk friend.

“My current situation? One of us is gonna show the other our throat soon. And it’s probably gonna be me. Shark week cometh and the whiskey floweth… ya, it’s definitely gonna be me.”

The baring of the throat is vulnerability.

Out of the 500+ articles I have written on here I would say about 90% involve feelings of some sort. As in ‘I tripped and fell in some feelings’.

I do this, it is my natural state of being. And honestly, for all the times I have failed, which have been all for the record, I still wouldn’t trade it. I like being like this.

Sometimes brave, sometimes vulnerable, always all in.

There is a word on this island for what I am sometimes. Sooky.

I used to call it sucky. As in I am sucky as fuck right now.

Well not right now, but I can feel it coming. I can feel a lot of things coming. It’s about time.

Anyone who knows me, knows I ebb and flow. It’s just what I do. And somedays I am a glorious goddess that can take on the world others I need my blanket and a hug.

Sometimes my blanket is a person.

Me: refer to the conversation a few days ago wherein I told you “you look at me like you want to tear me apart”. I know what you think of me.

Nope: You think you do

Me: this is true, I am not a mind reader. Body language, yes. Minds, no.

My Biker Body Pillow used to say that I could predict future behavior by remembering every fucking thing that has ever happened to me in the history of ever and seeing patterns. I can read situations like Rain Man counts cards.

And the Nope is right, I only think I know things. Maybe I am wrong about everything.

Que cera cera.

Melvin ordered you three doubles back to back to back

You were smiling and giggling one second

And telling me to “stop” “just stop”

Then you put your head down

I thought I had put my head down in the change room for a minute or 10 at the end of my shift last night. Tina just told me I was asleep for 3 hours on the floor in front of my locker with my blanket on my head.

The night before I got ruined but took a 5 hour energy so my body didn’t shut down after I blacked out. I don’t know which is worse.

I also refused to leave last night without her, even though she was gone already.
I have got to stop doing this.

I woke up at 9 this morning still in my stockings, no idea where my shirt went.

I have lost sight of the wagon I was supposed to be back on.

I chugged 20 ounces of water and went the fuck back to sleep.

Then the voice yelled at me and I sat straight up. It hurt. Everything hurts right now.

Once in a blue moon, a few seconds before I wake up, I hear a voice telling me something important.

I call it my field of dreams voice.

If you build it he will come.
Go the distance.
Ease his pain.

First clear memory of it was maybe 5 years ago now, “her name is Kayla and she has cotton candy hair.”

Young ‘un the first had been drifting away from me and her name was actually Kaya and she did indeed have pink/blue/lilac hair. They dated for a year, it didn’t end well and I consoled him through the break up.

This morning was different, it’s usually a woman’s voice. Today it was a man with an accent, like country boy twang, not sure where from. And he simply stated “He’s gone.” With a tone that dictated that I should already know this. I already know this.

Cotton candy hair girl scenario made itself clear about a week later after a broken window incident with my truck. The truth finally came out…and that was that.

I don’t know who he is or where he has gone, I mean I have a pretty good idea, but I am sure it will become abundantly clear sooner than later.

And something will get broken.

Liza messaged me last night too.

Golden spiral, curve increasing by pi

She got into the moonshine at a biker funeral and doesn’t remember much except something about the rule of 3 and clovers.

Drunken conduits getting funny messages from the ether.

Called me up this morning because she says my energy is tangly. She’s getting static.

I am in recovery mode from a 3 day bender. And I am feeling staticky and tangly.

I can’t find my happy place. My period is late, I feel ugly as fuck and it won’t stop raining.

I feel numb and like warmed up shit. The numbness is what scares me the most.

This snarky voice telling me “he’s gone” and all I could think was so what.

They go, that is what they do.

And all the HE’s are gone.

The Last One made a brief appearance, two actually, since I have been here. It’s funny, every time he comes back, we pick back up like we never stopped dating. I gotta figure out how to quit that too. He’s been gone almost 3 weeks this time. He said he was coming for me, I said we’ll see. I knew this was coming. This is the pattern. Spiral out and back in again.

Giant, same same. Said he was coming for me. No word in weeks. I know he reads the blog on occasion and I haven’t been hiding anything.

The Boy ‘heard I moved on’, so I knew that was over already. It never began.

They aren’t here anyways so it doesn’t really matter. I wish them well. Gone but not forgotten.

And Nope is on the boat for 3 more sleeps. I am looking forward to him coming back a little more than I am comfortable with. Mind you it’s easier for me to not drink when he is around. Dangling carrots.

I will figure it out, I always do.

As for the quitting of the things. I met a woman years ago, she took a “break” from smoking, and last I heard it was an 11 year break. This is how we quit things. I will take a break before I break. It can’t rain all the time and I will bleed again eventually. I am in a new place with a dozen new uteruses to sync to. We shall see.

Took me napping at work the first time to slow things down in the drinking department. Then I backslid and fell on my ass, stayed sober 13 days.

Time to try again.

Third times a charm.

I might stop to let you catch me but I think that you would find me on my knees.
It’s gonna be another long one tonight, it’s just me and my well intentioned spite, as if someone did this to me but no one did there’s no injustices…
Shawn Colvin

Oh I totally did this to myself. My happiness is my responsibility and so is my pain. There is no injustice here. Just me and my well intentions. No spite. I did this. I am also on my knees. I did a trust fall and this is how I landed.

She also wrote “you’re smiling, that’s enough”.

Been chasing that idea of enough for a really long time. I think I need to let that go.

Fuck. Everything is making me weepy. Hurry up shark week, I have plans and I’m tired of the salt stinging my eyes.

And it is gonna be another long one tonight. My entire time here has been spent trying to get enough sleep and failing. Trying to stay sober, sometimes succeeding and then failing and flailing and just hanging on till Tuesdays.

At least that has changed, my Tuesday routine I mean. In a good way.

The rest of the time I am a broken record, playing sweet for a minute then skipping sideways in a bad way.

I hurt less today, so that is a good thing.

Catherine Martell: (holding Precious at the bottom off the oubliette) I think she broke her leg on the way down, she’s in a lot of pain mister.

Buffalo Bill: You don’t know what pain is.

Ya BB, I do.

It is mourning the construct of a future that only ever existed in your head.

I mean there are a million other kinds of pain. Holding someone you love as they die in your arms. All the things I never said to my grandmothers before they passed away. Being separated from my child. Betrayal, lies, and staying stuck somewhere I didn’t belong.

That last one though.

Fits nicely with the first one. Not nice, but you know what I mean.

I stayed married because I had an idea in my head about how my life was supposed to be. It was a bad idea.

Life is pain highness and anyone who tells you differently is trying to sell you something. Princess Bride

I respectfully disagree. It doesn’t have to be this way.

We can call everything that didn’t work out the way we wanted a bullet dodged.
There are silver linings everywhere if you stop seeing red and just look.

On a long enough timeline almost everything makes some kind of sense.
Some loss isn’t a loss at all, just a lesson.

I am well educated on what I do not want. And what I do want is malleable, shifting and easily amused.

It doesn’t matter why I came here. That fictional reality that prompted me to put my life in storage and move here has shifted. And yes. I wore all black, cried and mourned the loss of that imaginary thing.

Then I let it go.

”I heard you moved on” he said.

I did, and it fucking sucked. I have yet to see this as a bullet dodged.

But, then a silver lining appeared and I adjusted.

He makes me squirt and texts me good morning.

I am smiling and it is enough.

In this moment I am happy
Incubus

Live through this and you won’t look back. The Stars, Your Ex-Lover is Dead

Yesterday was full of small victories and accomplishments. I fell asleep way too early and woke up by 10. Not the best plan but I couldn’t keep my eyes open, then I couldn’t keep them shut. The only thing good about being up this early is…well not a whole lot but, I got to read my horoscope that usually comes yesterday but I was too busy to read.

GEMINI
I bet that a healing influence will arrive from an unexpected direction and begin to work its subtle but intense magic before anyone realizes what’s happening. I predict that the bridge you’re building will lead to a place that’s less flashy but more useful than you imagined. And I’m guessing that although you may initially feel jumbled by unforeseen outcomes, those outcomes will ultimately be redemptive…
*Grace emerges in the ebb and flow, not just the flow. The waning reveals a different blessing than the waxing.

http://www.freewillastrology.com/horoscopes/20180503.html

Redemption sounds absolutely wonderful.

All signs have been pointing to not getting what I want, but finding what I need.

I need more sleep.
Might have to try a Gravol induced nap this afternoon, never done it, don’t know if it will work. Top that off with a 5 hour Energy around 9pm.

Tired of relying chemicals to be honest. I have taken more ibuprophen than any woman should just to keep moving. Been drinking more whiskey than Keith Richards should just to keep going.  Resetting my circadian rhythm has proven vexing and I still need black out curtains. Not more black out drunks. Please no more. I am missing moments, good ones.

I am coping, learning, evolving and sometimes falling on my ass.

This is not what I expected. But it might be what I need.

There have been several doomsday scenario movies wherein some main character ends up on a rock or a space ship in outer space and inevitably says “I think we knew this was a one way trip.” Independence Day and Armageddon come to mind.

I am on a rock in what feels like outer space, an alien planet where I almost speak the language but everything is fucky, and I think I knew this was a one way trip.

I just live here now.

Time has been measured out in bitter chapters since I last saw you. (Cold Mountain)

Less bitter actually. More sweet lately. I know I am Nope’s flavor of the month and that is fine. Shit changes fast around here. Plus if he’s 3 weeks on and one week off, what constitutes a month? I am so bad at math I ain’t even gonna try to figure that out.

Time moves funny in this place. I was on my 7th week for 3, and I have had to dye my hair 3 times. There’s something in the water.

2 weeks ago on my day off the Nope pulled me out of my funk and my room in the cathouse and took me to the ocean at night. A week ago he took the day off to spend with me. It was my turn to make some effort. So I did.

I went to visit Nope on a boat yesterday.

I actually like saying Nope on a boat.

I would rather he wasn’t on the boat however, snuggles are scarce just now. Counting down sleeps. 6 more for the record.

And honestly, today would have been a better day for it, I was up early, well rested and I now know the boat LEAVES at 12:45, so pulling into the parking lot at 12:44 is …nope. Also it’s nice out. Spring has finally sprung in this place and it is lovely.

I was waiting for this.

I didn’t quite end up saying what I actually wanted to say yesterday.

I supposed part of me is still concerned with being judged for my life choices.

But I am a single mom stripper cougar that drinks and fucks and speaks openly about all these things.
I can’t be that worried really.

Once upon a time, if my girls back home were complaining about not getting laid I would offer up one of my dick appointments. The girls always refused, but the offer was there.

I likened it to having a garage full of cars, I cannot possibly drive them all at once and you need a ride…go ahead.

I have almost exclusively dated younglings for the last 5 years. The idea of ‘keeping’ them is ludicrous.

And I got a gold star for sharing in kindergarten. Still that way, if I have something you need, take it.

And I continuously win the Cougar Olympics, I only bring home gold.

There was/is a bit of ego attached in there, as in, look at this beautiful boy I found and look what that dick do. I am allowed to brag.

There were some exceptions. Giant was often brought over to do man jobs around the house like hanging lights and mounting TV’s, he was handy like that. And I never did mind him wandering off to look for wifey material. Mostly kept my distance. He has a future without me in it. But I couldn’t share him with my girls.

Wolfling, Hot Neighbor, Drogo, even Cruz who I actually dated…all fair game.

Since it never came to fruition I don’t know how they would have responded exactly.

But again, the offer was there.

I just got an angry message from another girl who is mad at me, must be a day that ends in Y, part of it stated “You better watch your man.”

I don’t have to do that. I know where he is and what he’s doing.

The Nope fucks other women. I know because he told me. I don’t mind.

This is why I yammered on about accepting people for what they actually are. I know what he actually is, what he does, and especially what that cock do. Damn.

It would be a sin to take that out of the world and try to keep it to myself.

I met one of them…

Nope: she’s in love with me
Me: very aware of that…did you fuck her?
Nope: ya
Me: well that’s why brat

You can’t give girls orgasms like that and expect them not to fall in love.

You can give women orgasms like that and expect them not to fall in love.

And therein lies the difference.

I stayed as far clear of him as I could when he had a girlfriend. Mind you he kept popping by work and looking at me with slightly lusty eyes.

It’s different now.

Nope: how do I look at you?
Me: like you want to tear me apart…like you are starving and I am really good food.

 The best, he says.

Calls me Love.

I know he likes me, I can see it in the way he moves, the things he says.
He knows I like him because I get drunk and tell him repeatedly.

I don’t need any more than this.

Nope.

On a long enough timeline, everything ends.

There is no such thing as forever and for this I am grateful.

I live in the here and now thankfully.

My past has been known to suck.

I was married for 7 years. Common law, with an engagement ring that got thrown back at him often.

He was a cheater of epic proportions.

His main mistress was a competitive bitch of epic proportions.

We are all to blame here though. Equally.

I stayed. My bad.

I left a few times. Had a lover for a few months who was polyamorous. I am not sure if that is irony or just indicative of how I do things, the weird way.

Yes, I left my cheating husband and jumped into a relationship with a man who openly slept with other women.

Except he didn’t.

We split before the honeymoon phase was over I guess. Or he just needed to know he could.

It’s alright, I get it.

I was his primary, there were rules. None of the other women he slept with could make me feel uncomfortable in any way. I was a fragile thing back then, lived in discomfort. I never did have a problem, again, never got a chance. But he was good to his word, when one of them said something untoward he sent her away. I didn’t hear it, she said it to him and he just said “we’re done now”.

It has occurred to me that the sex part of the ‘cheating’ wasn’t the problem. It was the lying and the repeated open fire attacks on my self-esteem and my “place” in my marriage by both of them.
I had no place there. It was never my circus.

I have been about 4 different versions of me since then. I have evolved. All of that is part of this, I accept the past for what it was and I forgive myself for being dumber than a bag of hammers.

I will tell you one more thing I learned.

I knew husband was a man whore when I met him. If I truly loved him…which I didn’t in retrospect, I would have had to have loved that part too.

No one should ever get into any relationship thinking they can change the other person.

There’s a billion people on the planet, find one that fits.

I saw a meme today, can’t find it or I’d put it here…something about not waking up with a man but waking up with coffee was better because coffee doesn’t text other women or some such shit.

Let them text, why is this a problem?

Lumberjack was the worst offender for that. Got caught with me by his actual girlfriend and was back on Tinder the next day, if he was ever even not on Tinder.

It is who he is. Again, not my circus. And the only sting was his insistence that I was “his” and he was “mine”.

Had he actually been honest about being in a relationship I wouldn’t have banged him. I have a strict rule about men who belong to other women. Even if the relationship is open, I don’t want in. Not my circus. I have been on the receiving end of that and I cannot abide nor participate in the pain of another woman with a wandering man.

But had he said “hey, I am a man whore, can we just casually fuck?” that would have been fine by me.

Monogamy is over rated. See above where hubby put a ring on it and still fucked his mistress fortnightly.

Be you, be honest and fuck me good. I’m happy.

I am a human lie detector.

I have another gift, quite a few really, but one of them is only seeing the best in people and making sure they see what I see. I know what it is like to be torn down, so I build as much as I can. And this version of me, Sarah 10 point oh I guess, doesn’t judge anyone. I try to understand why they do what they do. I accept the people in my life exactly as is. How they were when I found them.

There is another meme about what a beautiful thing is it to allow someone to be completely themselves. It is magical, I see it often.

Especially with the younglings.

I truly do not care what anyone thinks of me. It is absolutely liberating. So I pass this along to others.

Roam if you want to, I don’t own anyone, don’t want to.

Be good to me when you’re with me, enjoy the moment.

Watching what they do when they feel that freedom to be exactly who they are and having them return over and over because of nothing but their own free will is a glorious thing indeed.