I did one of those Facebook quizzes “what would the title of your biography be?”
Mine was “That didn’t go as planned.”
It’s like Facebook knows me.
I have been flying by the seat of my pants for quite some time now, pretty much the whole time.
Or I was…
I noticed a phenomenon I entitled “Meh”.
I’d be chatting with some random dude, we’d make plans, he’d go poof and instead of getting upset the Royal We would simply shrug it off.
I thought I was evolving a bit, worried that I was becoming cold, hard, jaded…but that wasn’t it. I’m not that girl, right?
Jackass ‘enlightened me’ decided I had just began to accept that everything is as it should be and not to worry.
A little from column A and one more thing…
I couldn’t begin to tell you when I started protecting myself.
This isn’t in my wheelhouse at all. I didn’t even realize I was doing it until…
Cruz read the blog. Not the whole thing. Not sure what he read exactly.
I am kinda freaked out right now.
We were lying in bed yesterday, talking. I said something about my relationship status on Facebook being blank for years, he corrected me.
Habibi, I forgot about Habibi. I didn’t forget so much as I know what happened there, everyone knows. Two friends tried to date and it didn’t go well, but for a week there was the big blue thingee on Facebook.
I wasn’t lying, I had just glossed over it in my mind.
I gloss over a lot of things. It’s how I have survived this long, I highly recommend it.
Except when I accidentally say something that isn’t true.
I write everything here, process what happened and attempt to move forward.
But, I have left this trail of breadcrumbs in case anyone wants to find me, the real me.
Cruz said it looks like I like fucking a lot of younger guys, asked me if he was just another monster for my bed and this blog. Asked if he was a fetish.
Thunderpunch to the heart chakra.
It really looks like that doesn’t it.
I swear that’s not it at all.
Truth is, I have slept with 10 guys in 4 years. 4 in the 10 years before that. Attempted to date a few of them and none of it went anywhere, except me crying a lot trying to figure out where I went wrong.
I started ‘dating’ younger guys because the likelihood of attachment should have been less.
But it wasn’t. I got attached, and I got shredded.
Mistakes were made.
I came out of being married not knowing who I was, what I wanted or how to date.
I was in 5 sequential, long-term relationships spanning 19 years. Never single. I don’t know if I ever knew how to date.
The blog is part of that. Trying to learn. Figure shit out. Having a quarter million someones listening to me when that hasn’t happened for the majority of my time on this planet was just a bonus.
I write about sex because it sells. And because I do love it.
Especially with him. He is a fuck monster. My fuck monster. Had I ever gotten around to giving him a nickname, that’d have been it.
But I changed.
Literally right before I met him. I changed.
Everything changed really.
I put my foot down, and shook my fists at the sky.
We worked magic in this house and whatever bad juju hex was upon my love life was lifted.
I felt it go as tangible as the pinprick that drew blood.
We smudged until the air turned blue.
I bathed in holy water. I anointed my bed with it too.
I wanted to start over. And it worked.
I received my boon.
But I carried my old mindset into my new life.
I was treating him like he was one of the others.
Calling him by his name is not enough.
What is wrong with me?
What happened to not carrying baggage and assessing everyone as an individual?
He has turned a few choice phrases aimed at figuring out where we stand.
I spit out these preprogrammed, safe answers trying not to spook him?
That ain’t right.
He asked yesterday if he was too much compared to other men.
I said yes and smiled.
Asked him the same question right back, am I too much compared to other women?
And of course he said yes.
I had a moment the other day wherein I realized I would really miss him if he bailed.
Maybe he won’t.