Rose Gardens and Graveyards

February 13, 2017

I lead a decidedly strange life.

Jesus Christ, whoever dates me is going to have to deal with this.

I don’t ask for chaos, but it happens, often.

I don’t dwell entirely on this plane and sometimes I need help or have to give it, it’s mandatory.

Sara and I also had a good giggle about lost boys.

Um, fuck. I think I am Wendy.



When the truth fits I must wear it.

Also mandatory.

Why can’t I be Star, with a Michael coming to save me?

Because nothing about me needs saving. Although I did steal her wardrobe.

What I need is someone that understands, there will be lost boys. They are going to scratch at the door. A few of them will be quickly turned away, not today Satan, not today. Tomorrow looks bad too.

But the ones that are truly lost?

I am obligated to love them. Not like I love the one I’m with. A pat on the head, a quick darning of the soul when the holes start to show and a bedtime story about how lovely they are. Nothing more nothing less.



The above was written in the time called ‘before’.

I have left the graveyard. For good.

Nothing grows there and I was constantly cutting flowers to put on the tombs. Cutting myself down in the process, to the point where I was constantly bleeding out.


I deserve a rose garden.

I am not to be merely tolerated, I am to be adored.

Boys and the crushes I develop on them have been a hobby of mine for, pretty much the entirety of my existence.

I always felt so lucky to be chosen.

I forgot they were lucky too.

Blame it on my cripplingly low self-esteem.

I always wanted to be wanted, but what about what I want?

I correlated a list of ‘demands’ in my head yesterday, in anticipation of a dinner date with a new boy.

I have to say, I have dated some good looking men in my day but this one…I can’t even find the words to describe him. Stunning.

This time around?

I don’t care.

If I see red flags or feel disrespected in any way, I am done.
There will be no attachments without reason.
Treat me right or show yourself out.

Pick me up, take me out and be sweet to me.

I was thinking out loud to my Mandy Panda stating all of these things that I require and I had a twinge of feeling selfish.

But I ain’t.

Small gestures and courteous behavior begets great rewards.

I am kind, warm, supportive, a spectacular cook and I will happily have all the sex.

I know what I am and I know what I am not. I refuse to lie or manipulate, and I am perfectly happy alone.

There are no more lost boys. I am loyal and lovely.

If this last few years of my life have taught me anything it is that I am still viable and valuable.

I started this journey into singledom with a boy born on Halloween, a day for the dead.
That went down in flames and a friendship rose from the ashes. He’s buried in the graveyard with the rest of them.

This one is born on Valentine’s Day.

Yes please.





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