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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.

The van attack in Toronto the other day really hit home. Toronto was actual home for quite some time, my son still lives there and a large population of my tribe.

I spent a substantial portion of the day with phone in hand waiting for all my friends and kidlet to check in alternately praying the driver’s last name was MacDonald or that somehow it was an accident, like he had a stroke or the van was defective in some way.

Neither one of my wishes came true, my friends all checked in, then it got worse.

It has come to my attention that the driver was diagnosed Autism, Aspergers Syndrome as a child. He was incapable of connecting with ANYONE, not just women. I think the whole “incel” bit was only his twisted attempt to veil his condition and loneliness.

That being said and accounted for, this incident and travesty has shed a light on the fact that there exists a male counterculture cult whose main point is hating and attacking women because they can’t get laid.

Involuntarily Celibate. Incel.

Am I reading this right?

This is a thing?

Have you tried not being a spiteful asshole with a not so hidden agenda of hate towards all women?

We can kinda tell when you are a creep. Been practicing since we were little girls. Keys in fists, traveling in packs for safety. You are what we are running from.

Misogyny is not attractive anymore, maybe you missed the memo.

We have all had dry spells. I didn’t want to hurt men because of it.

This whole thing is beyond disturbing and terrifying.

Like I didn’t have enough reason to be scared of men already. Been beaten, raped, stalked, held hostage, emotionally abused till I let his mistress move into my house… I could go on.

Those men that did those to me didn’t have a support group for their awful behavior on the internet.

I did, and should have access to such things. I also have access to a group of strong wonderful men who are also shaking their heads and apologizing profusely for these … what do I even call them? Low males?

Like what the actual fuck.

These guys feel justified in this. Plotting random killings and mass rape. Patting each other on the back for stalking and hurting women.

I feel like I woke up on another planet and it is ugly here.

Yet another bizarre angle being taken here is “where the sex workers at?”

This guy killed 10 people because he couldn’t get laid. Ergo, this is on us somehow?

Um, us sex workers are over here being marginalized, having our main source of income fucked with as Backpages gets shut down, getting shit on, our profession made illegal, getting assaulted and spit on by society… I could go on.

Now you want us to swoop in and save the day?

A few weeks ago I had a customer pay me $150 to hold him while he cried. Like deep soul sobs.

He never said why exactly, but I think some woman hurt him.

I also had a dude wander in with all sorts of fucking attitude, entitlement and ideas about what strippers do. It’s not a competition. Chill Winston. I am sick of people who form some opinion based solely on one isolated incident and it becomes ‘the way things are’.

That mentality is dangerous.

Men do shitty shit, don’t blame all men. Women do shitty shit, don’t blame all women.

I have refused a dance after a guy asked me where the cathouse was, where the rub and tug was and complained at great length about not being able to touch titties in Calgary. He asked for a dance and I said ‘based on our conversation that’s gonna be a no from me’.

I have right of refusal always. I knew it was gonna be a bad time. For both of us.

I retaliate at work because I can. On the street I can’t. I have to smile when told to do so, say thank you for comments about my appearance or risk backlash. At least my work is a safe space.

I am lucky that way.

I am not a hooker for the record, some of my best friends are and I commend them for what they do.

I am in the slightly less degraded/socially acceptable-ish profession known as stripping.

Strip clubs still get raided, girls can’t work, get access to their belongings etc.

I have been turned away from jobs and housing if I dare be honest about what I do.

And now you want us to babysit and pity fuck these angry assholes?

I have right of refusal.

How about this instead.

We realize as a collective whole that women own their bodies and decisions on what to do with the bodies we are given.

We stop slut shaming immediately.

Legalize prostitution, make it safe and socially acceptable.

We take a good hard look at the fact that this country was founded by people too puritanical for England and the rest of Europe, they fucked through holes in sheets and stoned witches for fuck sakes.

We debunk the ludicrous idea that Eve was to blame for original sin. Throw out the whole fucking bible actually. Ever notice rape is not a sin and women are property? Ya, fuck that.

We take the stigma off sex and sex workers and truly embrace the fact that sex is natural and fun.

We actually punish rapists for the atrocities they commit, put Brock Turner’s head on a pig pole in town square.

Stop victim blaming.

Figure out how to teach proper sex education to cover all kinds of sex and consent and the pleasure principal.

Stop teaching boys that girls are inferior objects.

Stop toxic masculinity all together.

Just move over and let girls run the world for a while.

I am a sex-eater/succubus, this is not a secret.

Two things power me up, being in the water and ecstatic energy exchanging sex.

The water is too cold right now. And there was a void of the other.

This post is rated R. Don’t keep reading if you are easily offended by things like orgasms and descriptions of rough sex.

It’s also not a secret that I am a submissive. I gotta be on guard all day every day. Give me a strong, dominant man that I feel safe around so I can just let go and enjoy myself.

Any fucking time now.

Wish granted.

You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need. (Rolling Stones)

Oh fuck I needed that. I didn’t even know how bad I needed that until it was happening.

For the record, I always get what I want, and what I need. I have an agreement with the cosmos. Not always instant gratification, but on a long enough timeline, I am sated.

I was vaguebooking. That thing people do wherein they post vague statuses upon the Facebook. I wasn’t doing it for attention. Just leaving future me notes. And he knew what I was on about, so did a few others.
“If it’s all the same I would rather leave it up so I can giggle about it when it comes up in my Facebook memories next year.”

Springtime can be frustrating and everyone gets a nickname.

Finally got to come clean yesterday. Still not naming names, but everybody knows there is a boy I call the Nope.

Actually had a woman I adore inbox me the other day and ask me directly “who is the Nope and also is it bad I follow you like this?”

The answer is coming, and no I don’t mind at all.

I have decided to live my life like an open book. I asked for his permission and it was granted. I think he likes it. Bragging rights.

He’s earned them.

I have very few regrets in life.
I’m very aware that I could not be the person I am without all of my past mistakes and victories.
That being said…I wish I hadn’t given away the nickname ‘sex monster’ so frivolously.

Damn

This isn’t love or anything like it.

Lust and like, yes. Love nope. I know the rules, I wrote them.

Rough? Oh fuck, yes. Please.

For the first time in a really long time, I’m writing with a bag of frozen broccoli between my legs. And in this moment, I am happy.

My PIC and her bestie are currently prowling Venice Beach California. One of my favorite places on earth. I am simultaneously happy and jealous as fuck.

I am allowed to feel any kinda way about anything I choose. More than one way if it suits me and it does.

Lucifer Luu came stumbling up the stairs of the cathouse a week ago today walking funny and smiling sunshine.

There is something in the water here and these island boys are blessed in the cock department apparently. Skinny tattooed white boys with horse cocks. She got hers, finally after 18 months of nothing.

She has been dubbed a sex demon by our customer, and he is not wrong.

Poor girl was ravenous. I know the feeling.

She welcomed me back to the club of “can’t walk right”.

Oh honey I am home.

Oh, by the way, here is where it gets R-rated. Like a paragraph back really.

It was my turn last night. To stumble and struggle up the stairs, gripping the handrail. I held it together all day and chewed some Aleve mid afternoon. Been trapped in tight jeans all day (what am I? new?) and my pussy was screaming arias, in a different way than for the last few weeks. She just wanted the pants off now and an ice pack. Finally full, swollen, sated, happy sighing and trilling a bit.

The weather is double digits this week, sun dresses it is. I pity the fool who tries to touch me at work though. That’s a hard nope.

This was what we call a perfect storm. Been flirting for two months. My pussy was starving and I had just the perfect amount of drinks before he took me home. Zero inhibitions and 60 days build up.

At one point, rather early on, I realized I was in the middle of I’m gonna need an ice pack after this beast mode sex. But I was kinda tipsy and so fucking hungry for it, I leaned into it. I am a bit of a masochist, this is also not a secret.

8 years ago I had a boy who could make me cum so hard and prolific it would hit me in the face.

Yes, you read that right, he made me cum on my own face.

It’s happening again.

The Nope said he could make me squirt, and he wasn’t lying. We slept on a towel, had to.

There is usually a breaking in/figuring out process that occurs when you start sleeping with someone new. We seem to have skipped over that part.

“Don’t touch my toes.”

There is something beyond satisfying about finding a fuck monster with skills.

I am satisfied.

Here come the 3 o’clock pussy tantrum, right on time.

Doesn’t help I am getting countdown messages from the Nope.

I am already tingly in my princess parts, if tingly is a synonym for tsunami.

You could drown a toddler in my panties right now (Archer)

He’s just making it worse/better.

Him: How was your night?

Me: Got drunk.
Fell down and reinjured my butt.
Lost 70 bucks.

Him: Aw babe, I will kiss it better.

8 more hours…

I need all of me kissed better.

I actually let him rescue me the other night, out of my room in the cathouse and outta my head for a bit.

I fought him on it for a few hours. Finally caved around midnight. Warned him I was beyond sexually frustrated and I couldn’t be trusted. He had to adult. He adulted. Except we drove around this island and ended up making out like teenagers in parking lots. I needed that.

Went for a long drive, I spilled everything without crying, he told me his stories. He put on Tragically Hip and shushed. I touched the ocean. He picked me up and hugged me while my feet dangled. It was lovely and necessary.

and a long time comin’. (Tragically Hip)

My girl Liza is, for lack of a better word, psychic. She and I are tangled somehow. When one of us is tied up and twisted or unravelling the other one feels it. It’s pretty amazing actually.

We had this conversation the other day when Lucifer Luu came bouncing into the house announcing she got dicked down for many many many hours.

We must clap for the victories of our sisters.

Even if it’s a slow clap filled with envy. I am still happy for her, truly.

I asked her for a hug, hoping some of her good sex juju would get on me.

God it’s been a long few months.

I am a sex eater and I am starving.

I do not want to wait any more moons.

It’s been 84 years…

I actually almost put 2 and two together before I realized that there is, indeed, a Pink Moon in Scorpio. That explains a lot. I have already expressed fear that my root chakra is powering up with said moon, I am going to explode, literally.

Something has got to be done about this. So be it.

I have so much pent up energy all sitting in my clit and I cannot shut her up about it.

Jerked off 3 times yesterday and it didn’t even take the edge off.

She’s howling at the moon.

Lust has no mercy and I am tired of waiting.

Today is the rapture and the Nope is coming to get me. I am thinking it isn’t a coincidence.

I am like Oprah Winfrey, except I don’t give out Tupperware and cars. I give out nicknames. You get a nickname and YOU get a nickname, everybody gets a nickname.

And once upon a time, at my tiny little bar by the water oh my Liza messaged me out of nowhere and said “I don’t know who you are touching right now, but no, just Nope.”

I was leaning back on a tall drink of water boy, hands the size of dinner plates, devil grin, sparkly eyes and just warm strong masculine and really good vibes.

Still a terrible idea, her warning was warranted but…

We give each other advice all the time, Liza and I. neither of us really follows it, but we try.

I’m not following this advice either.

Truth be told he was an actual Nope, had a girlfriend, way too young.
The first thing stops me in my tracks, the second, not so much. But I do let them come to me, I don’t ask. I wait.

It’s been 2 months since I met him and asked about him.

I pushed it out of my mind.

But…

His eyes were getting lustier and lustier, and the messages more frequent, blatant and persistent

J. Warren Welch was right.

Add to that I am starving and he is suddenly and magically single now.

And I needed rescuing.

Liza and I compromised “Just warn me before you touch the Nope so I can brace myself.”

You have been warned.

Good point Greg.

But, but… the younglings need love too.

Stay away from those approaching 30, it is time for them to nest.

Do not get in the way of them wanting names like father and husband.

You have already been mother and wife. You have evolved past this.

Do not build a home here.

Be a gypsy. Pack up and leave when it’s time. Leave the place better than how you found it. Plant things, mend the ground, pick up the trash left before you were ever there.

Choose wisely. They will find you. You will tell them your age and they will light up like supernovas. They were looking for you. Allow yourself to be found. Stay still. They spook easy.

Offer your hand. Open palm upturned. Show them your throat. Acquiesce.

Let them bite and show them where you prefer to be bitten.

Show them your teeth. Smile always.

They will ask what you want. Tell them ‘nothing’. Speak true.

They will tell you what they want. Concede.

Enjoy the negotiation process as much as what comes after.

Passing on what I have learned. Protecting us from fallout that doesn’t have to happen.

I know what is possible.

I know the rules of engagement.

This has been “stolen” from Lessons on Loving a Prophet by Jeanann Verlee

http://thymoss.tumblr.com/post/55176318258/lessons-on-loving-a-prophet-jeanann-verlee

The idea, the cadence…all her. I take no credit.

One day I will write a book about all of this. Everything I have learned. I have sat in nail salons and coffee shops next to women my age, eyes lit up talking about some young one or another. They see what I am, kindred sister, and spill their guts. And I cringe. Oh honey, this is temporary and here you are believing in forever.

I do not envy the fall. I too have fallen.

Happily ever after happens, I have seen it with my own eyes but it’s rare and you are missing the point.

I learned the hard way too I suppose.

I may or may not have been built for this.

But I have been practising.

Back in the day, which was a Sunday in May by the way, I rolled over one morning after an exceptionally long weekend, looked at my phone and what to my wondering eyes should appear?

No, not Santa, it was May I said. And this was infinitely better.

It was Young Un the First.

There have been a few. I don’t know how they find me, or how they know what I am. But they come.

Some were magical, mystics, bestial and lovely and some were regular run of the mill fuckbois.

But even then, there was sweetness to them.

One who still wants to wife me. All still call me when they need me to be validated for something or other. They know I am safe because I am.

They are there when I need them too. I try not to need them.

And contained within all of them. Lessons upon motherfucking lessons.

One must not engage with a fuckboi, for you will teach him your art of war (some meme)

No no. Engage.

Teach them everything.

They sought you out because they want to learn. They will not ask anything you don’t have an answer for. Revisit memories of when you were young and understand them.
Empathize and above all teach.

Learn.

This is not war. Show them peace.

I had a good 100 days with Young Un the First.

Then I got greedy. I wanted more.

THERE IS NO ‘MORE’

Be grateful for what is given. Devour them, take all of it even if you are tired, stay awake. Feast when you can then fast while they are gone, they will be gone. Accept this. This is the only way. Let them go, they need to run and they will love you for letting them.

THERE IS NO MINE

You cannot claim what is not yours to keep. Do not try to keep them. Let them roam and come back to you of their own free will. There is more bliss in this than any label could ever provide.

Do not ask to be called anything beyond your name, so when they call you mine it sounds like the music it is. Only answer yes to pet names, do not call them yours.

Do not call them at all. But when they say your name, answer.
Do not play games.
Be present.

BE BETTER

Do not use your tears as manipulation. Do not use them at all. Cry when you are alone. Let them cry if they need to. Stay soft. Absorb the salt and the sweat.

Do not hide your body, flaunt your scars. Let them flaunt theirs, show them comfort within your skin. They will thank you for it. Enjoy.

Allow yourself to be shown off like a prize. Do not brag about him. Let him decide where you belong and where you do not. Stay in your house. Open the door when he scratches.

LISTEN

Reward him for every truth he tells you, even if it isn’t what you want to hear. You do not get to choose what he does away from you.

They will bring you music, whether on acoustic guitars in the living room or a song turned up on the radio. Listen. Let the song play out and do not speak. Listen to the words and the rhythm, this is part of them, they are showing you. Dance to it and show appreciation for the gifts and the insight. If they pull you close sway and slow dance in the kitchen. Speak with your hips and say thank you.

They will tell you stories of those who came before. About their days and their dreams. Listen and encourage even if you know its folly. You can’t save them. The only reason you know anything is because of what you lived through, the mistakes you made on your own. Let them make mistakes. That is why they came to you in the first place. Somewhere safe to learn. So teach them, gently. Keep everything in the vault. Do not use their words against them. That is what low women do and you are better than that.

THERE IS ONLY THE HIGH ROAD

No matter how young they come to you, some low woman has come before. Inflicting damage.
Rub the knots from their muscles, they are tired and sore from carrying past hurt. Carry it for them. Help them forget. Keep your claws retracted. Kiss them, do not bite. Some other girl sunk her teeth in before you came and left scars. Kiss the scars and promise not to reopen the wounds.

Keep your promise even if it means biting your tongue in two.

Be merciful. Forgive everything.

You can calm yourself, do not ask to be calmed.

Walk the high road always, do not stoop. Sometimes it will be hard to breathe, the air is thin. There is no cover, only a rocky path. Do not let them see your feet bleeding. Just keep walking, smile when they look up.

They will look up, to you, at you, to god to say thank you for your presence. Bask in this, let it keep you warm in the dark and cold.

When they look at you let the sun shine out of your smile at them. Let your face show all the things that can’t be said. Let them bask in this and be warm. The earth is a cold, dark place. Be warm and inviting, be soft and yielding always. Bend till you think you will break then bend some more and break anyways. You know you can put yourself back together anyway you please. Teach them this.

Show them what is possible.

11:59am
Someone is vacuuming the crackhouse carpet.
The apocalypse is nigh.

12:30pm
Double digits by next week.
The apocalypse is really really nigh

12: 46pm
Oh hey
Just realized I’ve been sober 2 weeks with one lil slip up.
The apocalypse is now super nigh and unavoidable.

Thank fuck.

I loves me a good apocalypse.

The Greek definition which means the revealing of the truth.

Tearing of veils and cracking of the ground so new things can emerge and be seen.

Living the same day over and over for the last 60 is no way to have a life.

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over while expecting different results.
Albert Einstein

Bring the change.

According to some cult or other, the world is actually supposed to end on April 23^rd.

I have totally lost track but this is probably my 9^th rapture. If I live through this I get a free rapture.

Cool.

‘I don’t pay attention to the world ending. It has ended for me many times and began again in the morning.’ Nayyirah Waheed

It does. Often.

I have lived through everything thus far. Kinda proud of myself actually.

Oh my Liza said I wasn’t allowed to get hardened by these things. I won’t.

“When I saw you stop the world from ending, I just figured it was a big week for you. Now I find myself needing to know the plural of apocalypse.” Buffy the Vampire Slayer

I survived my mother’s house, high school, rape and my marriage. This is a walk in the park. With cake.

Her; I don’t want them to hurt you ever enough so that you become like me.

Me; I invite this, I run into the flames mama

Her; I know. And for each burn you still stay soft and warm and inviting. Mine just turned to scars. Just don’t let anyone of them turn you into anything like me?

She is more me than she realizes. And I would be lucky to be a tough as she is.

As far as I can tell, we’re on the road to brighter hell, as far as any eye can see, you’re looking pretty fine to me. The Watchmen

So many people making decisions out of fear and not love.

And so many lies.

Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth (Young’un the First, Drag the Lake)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTlaxpbIhgo

Yep. That’s my young’un. He has all the anger, I don’t need it. And he is way better at it than I.

I asked him if it was okay to put two and two together for the nice folks on here.
500 posts and I have only used nicknames, never faces.

Permission granted.

Fucking beautiful isn’t he.

Damn.

And the growling.

I am a lucky girl to know such beasts.

Snake charmer, monster tamer, devil lover. Yep.

When the snake sits on the right, the truth is always the anti-venom.*

So many songs, quotes and old lessons revisited.

One day a woman was out gathering firewood on a cold winter day. She found a snake, on its deathbed. The snake implored her “please pick me up and keep me warm, if you do not I shall surely die.”
The woman hesitated, obviously, this was a snake.
But in the end her compassion won out (or he had really pretty eyes and a pirate’s smile** or some other such sorcery) and she tucked the snake in her bosom and continued to gather firewood.
Once the snake was warm, he bit her tit.
She exclaimed “I did you a kindness, why did you bite me?”
The snake simply said “I did what snakes do, you knew what I was when you picked me up.”

In my version of the story the woman had been bit before but had a fondness/weakness for snakes and had built up and immunity to snake bites. And the snake never lied about what he was or his intentions so he is forgivable too.

I am the woman with a penchant for getting bit. I invite this, I know.

And I forgive everything.

I am still merciful.

When the snake sits on the left the truth is always the anti-venom.*

I am also the anti-venom.

Makes me valuable and rare on an island full of snakes.

So shed your skin and let’s get started
Hunters and Collectors

USS*
Elton John**