Understanding Asexuality – Part 2: Social Struggles

The struggle is real.  And I’m not even joking.

 

In a world fueled by sex,  being asexual does not even register with the majority of the people.
Basically everyone wants to fuck someone at some point.

Beer, sport, fitness, and whatnot, is sold with sex.  As a dude, if you don’t want to fuck, you are less of a man.  As a woman, you are a frigid bitch.  The world revolves around fucking.

And yes, we are basically programmed to procreate.  But the human species is now accepting, that heterosexuality isn’t all there is to it, and embracing bi and gay too, maybe we should understand that NOT having sex is also a reality.

 

People like to say ‘ years ago there were no gays, this is a new thing’.  Eh, no.
Being gay has been around since forever.  (I’m really not going to lay down education about this here).  Only recently, people have been more able (read:  not beaten up/killed) to be openly gay.  So, more and more people are coming out of the closet.  Also, more and more people are realising, that being gay is a normal thing.  They don’t have to spend their lives miserable, because they married the socially acceptable partner, and are now stuck with them.

Same now, with asexuality.
The current estimate is that up to 3% of the population is asexual.  More and more people end up identifying as asexual, as they come to understand what it means.

However, once you’ve embraced your sexuality, you have to face society as a whole.  And not just straight people.  In the LGBTI community we are treated like lepers basically.  With many LGBTI people saying we do not belong to the Queer group at all.  We are less accepted than the Bi people, and they are NOT popular.

I basically realised that I am asexual, after many many years of struggling to understand why I can never keep up with my partner’s sexual needs.  I thought there was something wrong with me.  I thought I had psychological issues.  Saw shrinks.  I look libido enhancing pill.  Tried Tantra.  But, in the end, it was a deal-breaker every time.  I didn’t want to fuck my partner.  Not that I didn’t love and adore them with every fibre of my being.  I simply didn’t want to make whoopee with them.

It was a hard journey, with many, many tears, loads of heartbreak.  But, once I embraced it, I found peace.  I had a really super therapist who helped me calm my fears about being alone.  Now, I prefer my own company.  So it worked out ok in the end.

 

However,  I encounter, more often than I would like, people who think that my asexuality is something I’m hiding behind.  That I’m broken, or scared.  That I’m putting up a front.  Or playing hard to get.
And turns out, I’m not the only one encountering this.

 

Some regular things I get told:

You just haven’t met the right person yet.
Eh.  no.  I’ve dated dudes, chicks.  I’ve dated across the color line.  I’ve dated hippies, athletes, artists.  I’ve dated younger and older than me.  NONE of them, I wanted to fuck.
I’ve had flings too.  And they were fun.  But not a single one of them had me creaming myself.
So, I think, I can safely say, that in my 17 odd years of dating, if I hadn’t somewhere found someone that I wanted to fuck, that I am the common denominator.   It’s not them, it’s me.

 

Did something happen to you as a kid?  like, were you molested?
Initially, I had thought so too.  I had seen shrinks, had regression therapy.  Nothing.  NO bad-touch uncles.  NO rapey teenage boys.  I have no PTSD for sexual stuff.  No triggers.  Nada.

 

You must have had some really bad sex lol!
Again.  Nope.  I’ve had sex with pretty much everyone I dated.  At least once.  I tried my best to keep my partners happy.  And none of them were bad.  They were perfectly capable of delivering the goods.  But.  I would much rather have been walking the dog, than bonking.  Which is not the best for anyone’s ego, I’m sure.  I loved all my partners with all my heart.  But, you know, if the feeling aint there, then it simply aint there.

 

But you are so hot, how can you not like sex?
I’ve actually had someone say this to me.  How these two are even related, I have no idea.
Which makes me think,  then, are ugly chicks being asexual, accepted then?  But hot chicks, not?  Like, if you are fuckable, then you can’t be asexual?
Which leads me to the arguments I’ve heard for lesbians.  If a fat/butch/ugly woman is gay, then she’s turned to women because no man would have her.  Does the same logic apply to asexuals too then?
If you are not fuckable, then it’s ok to be asexual.  But if I want to hit that, then you can’t be asexual, and you are just being difficult/have issues/etc.
That’s fucked up.
Having to deal with being asexual is hard enough without being told you are liar.

 

So, how do you even date?
Personally, I don’t date.  Not anymore.  The logistics in trying to maintain the relationship is just too much work.  And even if they say they can manage without sex, they really, really, REALLY, can not.
Other asexuals manage though.  They agree to have sex how many ever times to keep their partner happy.  Or they have an agreement for their partner to have sex outside of the relationship.
I point I want to make, however, is that intimacy is not just sex.  And I think the great majority of the human species only know to have intimacy via sex.
Men will only allow themselves to be vulnerable when they have their dick on someone.  Women feel loved and connected when the have a sweating man on them. (this is how I imagine it in any case).
But, I did some research on Tantra  a few years ago, and intimacy is SO not about sex.  So, technically, you can have a wonderfull relationship without physical sex.  If your partner needs the physical release of an orgasm, then he can have a wank, or find a partner outside of the relationship.
Personally, I find egos too fragile to deal with this, so I just avoid entanglements alltogether.

I’ve read accounts of teenagers coming out to their parents as being asexual, and their parents telling them it’s ‘just a phase’.
When you are in conversation with your mates, and they are going on about how they want to suck that hot dude off, and you are like *crickets*.  Asexuals don’t get it, at all.
Why do you want to suck him off?  What possible benefit is there in it?  Won’t your jaw get tired?  Doesn’t it taste weird?
In all my life, I have never looked at a penis and went:  oh my fucking god, I need that in my mouth, right now!  they are weird looking things, that smell odd.  and I’m pretty sure asexual and gay dudes feel the same way about vaginas.
and honestly, i find vaginas are kinda weird too.  i’m used to my own, but other people’s just need to not be anywhere near my face.

I had a friend who used to refer to ‘velociraptor sex’.  like, crazy monkey sex where you would tear each other’s clothes off and bonk on the kitchen table.
I have no idea what that even means.  My brain can think, ok, you are so horny you physically cannot be without sex for another second.  But I cannot imagine what it would be like.  I have never experienced it.  My brain does not have the capacity to process that idea for me.

Even the idea of hours long love-making sessions is annoying to me.  What are we going to do for hours and hours?  Cuddle?  Watch movies?  oh, have sex.
Well, can’t we just watch movies and build pillow forts instead?  I really don’t see the need for hours and hours of touching each other’s genitalia.

Now, try and explain that to your friends around a dinner table.  Or try and explain that to someone who wants to date you.  Or people who want to set you up with their friend.

How to tell a guy you are interested in that, hey dude, I really like you, and we can cuddle and make out, but we can’t have sex.

It really doesn’t work.

 

I’ve been called a frigid bitch.  A cock-tease.  Been told I’m playing hard to get.  That I’m leading men on.

Sure, I love to flirt.  The word-games, the silliness of it. A little bit of attention.  But I still don’t want your dick in me.  No matter how good a kisser you are, I have no desire for you to eat me out.  I will be making grocery lists while you do in any case.  Or eventually fake it so you can just stop allready.

 

Point I’m making is:  It’s really damn hard to be asexual, in a world that doesn’t give you any understanding or compassion, at all.  Being gay is borderline fashionable now.  But being asexual makes you the weirdo in the room.  At least gay guys want to fuck SOMETHING.

There is probably some kind of psychology behind why people find it so abhorrent.  Maybe they think that this person is just unattractive to them (which is true, but not because they are not a good-looking or sexy person).  Maybe that really freaks people out, that no matter what they do, this asexual person will never even think of them in a sexual manner.  Maybe that is really hard to take in.  I don’t know, I’m merely speculating.  I don’t have enough experience being in that mindspace to say.

 

One thing I find personally unsettling (being asexual),  is people thinking of me in a sexual manner.  I don’t know how other asexuals find it.
People who refer to me as sexy, actually makes me super uncomfortable. Being regarded as an object of sexual interest, is just weird to me.  I suppose it’s because I don’t see other people that way.  I would imagine that if I had to think of people in a sexual manner, and that action was returned, I would feel flattered.  I suppose that’s the purpose of giving someone a sexual compliment.
The affirmation of:  hey!  I’d fuck you!

That is ground-zero of nope for me.  So much of not wanting.

 

It’s really not easy being asexual.  You basically have to give a disclaimer every time someone wants to take you out for a drink.  Otherwise they might want to take it further, and you have to be a dick, and tell them they will never have sex with you.

Having to constantly explain yourself to dis-credulous people. Having to get into arguments with people who claim to know your sexuality better than you do.  Having to listen to them tell you which shrink to go to.  People telling you that you must just ‘give it another chance’.

 

The reality of dying alone, is very real to me.  And it’s ok.  I really don’t mind.  I like being alone.  I prefer my own company any day.
But for a lot of asexuals, the thought that they will be alone forever, is really heartbreaking.  They would love nothing more than to just have a normal relationship, but they can’t.  There are no pills to take.  No therapy.  You can’t turn it off.
And I’m sure there are loads of asexuals who would love nothing more than to just be ‘normal’.

Understanding Asexuality – Part 1: The Science

It’s been brought under my attention again recently, how much asexuality is misunderstood in the world at large.  Being gay and being bi has gotten loads of media coverage, that people go, oh ok, you are different, but you do what makes you happy.

However, the idea of asexuality still seems to freak people out.

So, for the sake of the asexuals who don’t know, and for those other people who don’t understand, I’m going to break it down into 3 parts.  The science, Social struggles, and FAQ.

Simply because i know our attention spans are limited, and I would rather impart the knowledge in digestible chunks.

Let’s just clear up what asexual means:

Asexuality (or nonsexuality) is the lack of sexual attraction to anyone, or low or absent interest in sexual activity. It may be considered the lack of a sexual orientation, or one of the variations thereof, alongside heterosexuality, homosexuality and bisexuality. It may also be an umbrella term used to categorize a broader spectrum of various asexual sub-identities.

Toronto Pride Parade 2011

Firstly, I would like to introduce this scale

It’s based on the Kinsey Scale, but more fleshed out to adhere to modern understanding of sexuality.

 

What people need to understand firstly, is that sexuality is not just gay or straight.  Nympho or complete asexual.  There are myriad of variants inbetween.  Sexuality is fluid, and changes over the course of your lifetime.  Your hormone levels change, chemicals in your brain changes, your outlook on life changes.   So, your sexuality could very well change too.  Someone might be into chicks, but have a curiosity about dudes, but later in life, realise, oh wait, I’m actually into dudes now.  And that’s totally ok.

Just as your hobbies change from scrapbooking in your 20’s, to golf in your 50’s.  It’s perfectly normal for sexuality to change.

To try and pigeonhole people into sexual boxes, is wrong.  I’ve known full lesbian women, who married men.  And vice versa.  And those poor people get flack from their communities.  And the partners who they leave behind, feel lied to.  But you feel what you feel,  and nobody has the right to judge that.

This is the same with asexuality.  Some people might choose to be asexual for personal reasons.  But those of us who don’t choose it, trust me, it’s shitty.  It takes years to figure out why you aren’t ‘normal’.  And it takes lots of research, and soul-searching, to make peace with it.

One thing I’d like to touch on, is that there are two parts of everyone’s sexuality.  Your romantic attraction, and your sexual attraction.  I suspect for most people those two are aligned.  But I’m seeing more and more cases where people are getting more comfortable with their romantic side.  Thus seeing the term ‘bromance’  rock up more and more.

This is cool actually.  Some people you have more than a friendship with, but you don’t want to fuck them.  THAT is romance.

 

Now,  as per Hollywood, romance leads to sex.  But if we believe everything the movies tells us, then the world is sad indeed.

 

so, with this in mind, you can be asexual, but still have romantic feelings towards one, or both, of the genders.

Let me explain:

(source https://thethinkingasexual.wordpress.com/tag/asexual-spectrum/)

The asexual spectrum includes: asexuality, demisexuality, and gray-asexuality.

The aromantic spectrum includes: aromanticism, demiromanticism, and gray-aromanticism.

Asexuals do not experience sexual attraction and/or directed sexual desire, meaning that they do not feel an involuntary desire to have partnered sex with other human beings for their own pleasure. They don’t have involuntary sexual thoughts and feelings about other people based on looks, personality, or any other quality.

Demisexuals can experience sexual attraction and desire for others but only after they’ve developed an emotional connection or attachment to someone, whether that attachment is romantic or nonromantic. Demisexuals are basically asexual until and unless they meet someone, get close to them, feel connected to them emotionally, and then at some point start to feel sexual attraction/desire for that person. They don’t experience sexual attraction/desire to strangers, celebrities, acquaintances, blind dates, people they think are good-looking but don’t know or don’t have any emotional connection to.

Gray-asexuals come in a variety of types: some gray-a’s rarely experience sexual attraction, some gray-a’s experience sexual attraction regularly or semi-regularly but rarely or never feel the desire to follow through and engage in partnered sex, some gray-a’s experience sexual attraction infrequently and are sex-repulsed, some gray-a’s can only experience sexual attraction to a partner during a kink session, some gray-a’s experience sexual attraction regularly but have no libido, some gray-a’s experience sexual attraction but don’t actually care about having sex enough to bother and are perfectly content to be celibate. People who experience sexual attraction regularly but are repulsed by partnered sex can also identify as gray-asexual, if they want to.

Aromantic-spectrum identities correspond to the asexual-spectrum.

Aromantics do not experience romantic attraction or the desire to form normative romantic relationships with other people. (Note: like asexuals who end up in sexual relationships, aromantics can end up in romantic relationships, despite not having an ongoing and abstract interest in them. This is especially true for aromantic allosexuals, who can easily end up dating a sexual partner, even when they’re not romantically attracted to them.)

Demiromantics can experience romantic attraction but only after they’ve developed an emotional attachment to someone. Basically, demiromantics only ever fall in love with people they’re already pretty good friends with. They’re not going to feel romantic attraction to a total stranger they aren’t close to, not even after 10 dates. The actual amount of time it takes a demiromantic person to feel romantic attraction to a friend varies by person and situation, just like sexual attraction does for demisexuals. Demiromantics may still only experience romantic feelings sporadically or rarely.

Gray-aromantics may: rarely experience romantic attraction, experience romantic attraction but feel repulsed by romantic relationships and never actually want to get involved in them, experience a kind of emotional attraction that cannot easily be defined as “romantic” or “nonromantic,” want queerplatonic or other gray-area relationships regardless of their attraction experience.

Myself, I identify as bi-romantic asexual.  Which means I’m romantically attracted to both genders, but not sexually attracted to either.

So hugs, cuddles and kissing for both sides is cool for me, but neither sex makes my nethers quiver.  It doesn’t mean I CAN’T have sex.  It means I have need for it.  At no point do I see someone naked, and go:  I need to hump that! It simply does not even register on my radar.

Think of it this way.  If you can have sex without love, then you can have love without sex.  Some people need both to be happy.  Some, don’t.

As the Asex motto goes:  I’d rather eat cake.

Asexual_Bossy

It doesn’t mean asexuals don’t have sex at all.  Some have sex to keep their partners happy.  Some might have sex as part of a fetish.

The thing to understand, that is that there is no SEXUAL ATTRACTION.

Some asexuals might be completely repulsed by sex, and won’t even consider it.  Others get into it once the touchy-feely starts.  Some asexuals are perfectly happy to have orgasms. Some don’t care for it at all.  I, for example, couldn’t care less.  I’d quite honestly rather be playing xbox, or having a really good conversation.

Some asexuals watch porn even.  But what they see on the screen, is not what they want IRL.  Just like some people watch pron with gagging and buttfucking, but that doesn’t mean they want someone to do that to them.

So many people can’t date an asexual person.  Simply because the idea of sex is either abhorrent, or simply doesn’t even occur to them.  They never get horny.  It must be really hard for someone who has sexual desire, to understand that.  To not feel desired sexually, is a deal-breaker for most people.  That doesn’t mean your asexual partner loves you any less.  They are simply not wired to feel sexual desire.  The libido is simply not there.

Just like pure gay guys don’t feel sexually attracted to women, thus asexual people don’t feel sexually attracted to anyone.

We can appreciate a hot body, or an attractive face.  But we don’t want to fuck it.

 

Read more about asexuality here, here and watch this video.

 

 

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2015 in retrospect

It’s not often that I can claim I’ve had a good year.

More often than not, i look back at a year of scrambling to get by.  of insecurity and heart-ache.

 

but not this one.  this was the year where i grabbed my life by the scrotum, and told it what-for.

and, technically, my year was not amazing.  it started off utterly shit.

 

my self-esteem in the gutter.  emotionally wrecked.  crying basically every day.  one mental breakdown away from gassing myself in my car.  and i say this without melodrama.

this was, however, the impetus to go push money on a shrink, to get my brain in order.  which was THE BEST IDEA EVAR!

 

where i had been simpering after a dude who didn’t deserve me, and had these grandiose plans about how to win him back (that was the only drive in my days), now i’m like, fuck him.  his dog. his neighbor.  and his potted plants.  fuck everyone else too.  i have zero fucks to give to anyone.

and it’s awesome.  i have never given less fucks.  you know why?  coz i’m fucking happy.

my happiness is not tied to another human being.  i make myself happy.  i’m dating myself, and it’s going well, i think i’m THE ONE.

 

this year, i also made sure to get my ass out of Gauteng at least twice.

I had an utter kak honeymoon experience climbing the Amphitheater in the Drakensberg in 2009, and was able to re-do those memories with friends in May.

I got to smith a knife!!  I’ve ALLWAYS wanted to smith something.

 

I got a piercing i’ve wanted since forever

I faced a fear, and swam through Chtulu’s maw

I planned, executed my first convention

Got more ink done

i hugged more trees

I leveled up in my crafting

I did fun stuff with fun friends

Got a new addition to the family

and another one (unplanned)

I pimped the man-cave more to my liking

I got a giant-ass TV

I found, and bought, my dream car.  a canary yellow Ford Ka.  I’ve wanted one since they came out.

 

I had an epic holiday with friends to Clarens and St Lucia.

 

I made some awesome cosplays.  And won some shit.

Had an epic birthday with a MOTHERFUCKING JUMPING CASTLE BITCHES

Pulled off ANOTHER convention with my new partner in crime

I got to see the new Star Wars movie at the Disney Premiere

and with fellow geeks

I found ZEN

 

And yes, I’ve had some kak

But this was a good fucking year!!

 

And 2016 can get only better.

The Friendship Agreement

It’s a peculiar thing, when you have emerged on the other side of immense pain, that your outlook on the world is altered.

Even more so, when it’s the umpteeth time you have been kicked on the balls.

However, via stupid expensive therapy, more tears than I knew I had,  and copious amounts of binge-watching Supernatural, I have emerged in a space, that I find strangely comforting.

The idea of a romantic relationship, is akin to me cutting off my right hand.  I cannot think of a worse idea.

I am the happiest I’ve ever been.  Here, on my own.  No lover.  No partner.  And it’s fucking liberating.  And I won’t let anything disrupt that.

And there aint no way in hell I’m letting anyone in my trust circle again.  nope nope nope nope  nope nope nope.

It’s kinda cat-lady crazy to thing that someone can be at peace and happy alone.  But after the life-altering heartbreak of my shitty December, this is bliss.

I come home to a house filled with fur children.  I play my xbox, watch my series.  Read in the garden.  Sleep in the sun.  See my friends when it suits me.  And spend time just being quiet.  It’s AMAZING.

I had, unto recently, had a mortifying fear of being alone.  Of dying alone.  Of not having anyone who gave a shit.

Now, it’s cool.  I get to be picky who I let into my life.

This is where I had an odd realization:  I can decide on the kind of relationships I will allow.

With lovers, there are very specific rules.  You spend majority of your free time with them.  Your affections and attentions are reserved for them.  It’s a given.

However, when you are single, you can see who you want, how often you want.

But here’s the humdinger:  if you lay down the rules beforehand, you can have a cuddle buddy, with no expectations.

Holy fuckballs!!

Now this is news, because, traditionally, someone who you are affectionate with, is your partner.  Evidently not!

Enter the Friendship Agreement.

It basically breaks down to the following:

1.  Im single

2. You’re single

3.  We want to remain single

4.  I have no romantic designs for you

5. You have no romantic designs for me

6.  We like going out on ‘dates’

7.  Let’s go out on dates.

8.  We are not dating.

THIS. IS. FUCKING. BRILLIANT

I don’t have to worry about negotiating the complexities of dating.  Or feel guilty for shit I have no control over.

I get to decide when I want to see them.  And I have have as many as I like.

It’s like having a partner, but with none of the Admin.  Why the hell did nobody tell me this shit is out there!

I’m not sure if a term has been coined for this, but I’m called it a FriendDate.

I encourage more people to partake in FriendDates.  It’s fucking brilliant!

ALL THE CUDDLES.  NONE OF THE BUTTHURT.

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In memory of my Kiri

Image016this is my Kiri, on the day I brought her home.  I decided to adopt an allready adult dog.  She was HUGE.  half great dane, half German Sheppard.  so friendly.  Her original owners died in a car crash.  and i was happy to take her.

she was such a gentle soul.  she didn’t mind the cats.  even my pat rat walked over her.  she loved being with people.  but was not a giant fan of other dogs.  especially little ones.

she was a bit of a Nana sometimes.  and would mangle herself, climbing out of windows, or through razor wire.  abandonment issues, evidently.  she also hated moving.  if i had boxes in the house, she would stop eating, and sulk.

15-12-06_2218 22-05-07_2139 26-11-06_2140 DSC00034she was also a clumsy thing.  all legs.  and if she stepped on your bare foot, her nails would take skin off.

when i lived in kyalami, i would take them for walks in the veld, and she was so chilled with the horses.  but boy, could she run like one when there was a rabbit around!

when i got zeus, she didnt like this little puppy much, but they soon grew to be besties.

DSC00018they would jailbreak when the gate opened, and go galavanting the whole night.  then in the morning, they would sit at the gate, all sheepish for having been naughty.

I remember one time, i took them for a walk, and they discovered a nest of jackals.  Kiri came running back, eyes like saucers, because a tiny jackal had just kicked her ass.  the look on her face was priceless. i couldnt help but laugh.

i used to take her and zeus for a hike to a mountain, and she was so strong, that i just had to hold on to her collar, and she would drag me up the hill.

kiri

she also saved my bacon, this child.  i had burglars in my house, and she barked her big bark, and sent them running.  they didnt even have the chance to steal anything.

poor thing also tried to protect my house when more burglars came, and got pepper sprayed in the face for her efforts.  her eyes were never the same after that.

she’s also dropped me in shit a few times.  she nipped a jack russel outside the gate.  and managed to maul the landlord’s weimeraner.  hard to think that the frail dog of the last few months, was capable of that at some point.  but evidently, she was quite a feisty one.

27092009128when i moved to glen austin, my dogs landed with their butts in the butter.  turns out, my new landlord loved dogs.  so much so, that they pretty much moved in with him.  during the day, they would sit with him, walk with him in the garden.  and he spoilt them rotten.  which was fine with me, since Kiri doesnt like being alone.  so i was happy for him to give her love.

he even made a fire in the fireplace for them, then pushed the couch in front of it for them, so they can lie there.  i mean really now!

which meant, that when i got home from work, i had to call the brats to come home and eat.  calling my dogs became word: KiriZeus!  i had to catch myself to only call zeus last night.  it’s going to take me a long time get used to that.

DSC_0206

my Kiri loved carrying things.  the newspaper, leaves, sticks, plastic bottles.  often, when i got home, she would bring me a random stick or a leaf.  and without knowing it, she would bring me heart-shaped poplar leaves.  and when i opened my car door, i would get licks and nibbles.  and big flopsy ears, and a heavy head on my lap.  she did so love having her ears rubbed.

DSC_0172

in 2012, her dew claw in her right foot started swelling.  and it was soon established, that it was cancer.  the first vet, was useless.  she said an operation was not possible.  and wanted chemo and xrays and whatnot.  i was devastated.  i though it was the end for my old girl.

luckily, i got a second opinion, and the toe was amputated.  and soon she picked up weight, and was pain free.  and i didnt even expect her to survive the operation.  she was such a silly thing, with her foot all bandaged up.  when she walked through the house on the tiles, all you could hear was ‘click, click, click, flop’.   i will miss hearing her nails on the tiles.

2011-07-12 21.29.3310671363_10205171439311955_5658632301654367762_n

She loved being tucked in.  when it was bedtime, the best was me putting a blanky over her, and making sure all the bits was covered.  she groaned so much.  and snuggled her nose into the blanket playfully.  it was her best.

she even ended up in one of my drawings.

184830_10200199859905577_1756294513_nFor the past three winters, I had though that she wouldn’t survive.  But she just kept on going.  her hips were slowly getting more buggered.  But she was mobile enough to get up, and walk around, and the tail still wagged.  So I thought, that I would know when the time was right to let her go.

With this in mind, I adopted a smaller dog, to keep Zeus company when she left.  Her name was Ruby.  and gods is she stupid.  but, as with all things, Kiri was ok with her.  accepted her with all the other animals i brought home.

10462527_10204548494098714_7646630442721446525_nKiri was never the boisterous kind of dog.  She was clumsy, but gentle.  She her favourite game, was foot taps, where i would tap her feet with mine, and she would pull them away, and it would escalate into gentle play, where i would pinch her nose, and make noises into her ear.  She never bit hard, or growled.  She was never aggressive towards me.  or barked for no reason.

she loved collapsing on you, like she was a tiny puppy.  with her heavy head being shoved into your arm.  i think, if she could, she would climb into your lap completely.

10501966_10205584362914787_477623531051857398_nas her hips grew worse, and her hearing went, walks was no longer possible.  she couldn’t even get into the car anymore.  and often, i would have to go fetch her to come home, since she couldnt hear me anymore.  but even in her old age, i could just put my hand on her back when we walked in the dark, because i knew she would steer me clear of holes and obstacles.

10421127_10205919498292962_3187564923091472038_nthis is the last picture i took of my babygirl.  not even three weeks ago.  she would often end up sleeping on the floor, because her legs didn’t bend as well as they should anymore.

and because things didnt work as well as they should, she would have accidents at night.  and that was fine too.

and yesterday, my neighbour called me, and said there is something wrong with Kiri.  and when i saw that her back legs werent working anymore, and her left eye was jumping, i knew:  she had had a stroke.

and i knew, that there won’t be much to do about that.  so in my heart, right there, all i could do, was soothe her, and calm her.

the vet, bless her, carried kiri out onto grass, under the trees, and administered the lethal dose.  while i sat next to Kiri.

i had my hand on her head, and as he breather her last, i gathered her into my arms, and wept like a child.

8 years of licks over.  no more gentle playing. my giant Kiri, just gone.  she won’t be waiting at the gate for me to lick my hand through the window anymore.  or carry randoms thing for me to look at.  just nothing.

i brought her home. and dug her grave.  and zeus whined, and kept on licking her face and eyes.  i hope he knows what happened to his friend.  i don’t even know if he understands.  but i think he does.  he’s been glued to me pretty much since yesterday.

i wrapped her in her blanket.  and held her one more time while i cried.  i put the stone tool i found in the garden next to her heart.  i then lay her winter jersey down, and her on top of it.  and a red rose.  then had to cover my child under the earth forever.

i knew she had to go at some point.  that’s the reality of having animals.  you will outlive them.  but this is one of the hardest things i’ve ever had to do.  to hold your child in your arms, while they die.  and you gave some stranger permission to kill them.  i just hope, that somehow, she understood.  that i did her a favour.  that a life after this, would have been awfull if i chose to let her carry on.

so here lies my child.  in my garden.  next to the strawberry patch.  and i will plant an evergreen tree there.  and i will name it Kiri.

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The Angry Blog Post

Because Shrink said I should

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Where to begin really?

I am not, by nature, a very trusting person.  So for me to allow into my circle of trust, is rare.  And after having been proven right in my distrust of humans, and romantic partners, I had reached a point, where I had fuckall left to give.

No more room for ‘just one more time’.  No more hope for “The One’.  fuckall.  niks,  nada.  And I had, quite actually, made peace with that.

On top of the fact, that I had discovered my asexuality, the chances finding ‘someone’,  had dropped to virtually nill.  because men’s utter existence depends on them being able to stick their dick into something. (I still don’t  know how anyone with a brain can fall that low, but anyhows).

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Then, unfortunately, I met someone who, eventhough I told them I am asexual, and they even did their own research, and (I thought), they knew what they were getting into.  I had slowly opened my mind and heart, to let this person in.

It wasn’t easy, and deep down in my little black soul, I knew, this won’t last.  But you know, I had hope.

What a fucking tard I was.  there is no such thing as a man who actually can live without sex.  who doesn’t need to get his dick wet, in order to love someone.  (nevermind the fact that I have an open-house policy for sex partners).

What makes me the angriest, I think, is that this person, promised me, that they don’t need sex to validate their ego.  And that we will work together towards meeting in the middle, as it were.  And this was all bullshit really.

In the end, all the things I shared with them in confidence, things I entrusted to  them, means nothing.

I had thought I had found someone confident in themselves.  Mature.  Reliable.  Strong…..

Ja ne.   Instead I found a big fat fraud.  A coward.  Someone who can loathe a person behind their back, but post birthday pictures on that person’s Facebook wall.  When I realized this, I had a moment, where I suspected, that this person can fake entire relationships.  A small voice in my head, was sounding the alarms.  And thus, I have been proved correct in the end.

From love-notes hidden in my drawer, and love-notes on mirrors, and love-professions galore, to an absolute and utter disconnect.  Within a space of a few days.

And thus the true colors emerge.  When there was no more use for the ruse, the mask fell off.  And the true self emerges.

I had imagined, that after the continental fuckup that my abusive ex husband was, I would be able to recognize lairs and fakes.   So much for that.

So what do?  How in the utter fuck am I suppose to trust anyone, ever?  If ever the dude who seems the most sane, the most collected, is a fucking basketcase.

evidently, I’m a sucker for a psychopath.

being dumped is one thing.  being utterly rejected after putting your heart on your sleeve, and going to their house, with your tail between your legs, to fix things………… that’s just a new level FUCK YOU REALLY.

and this, in my stupidity, is what i did.   and made the fucktard mistake, of making myself vulnerable, and AGAIN being the asshole who is willing to fight for the relationship.  one would think, that after doing that for 3 years allready, i would have learnt my lesson.  *sigh*

he then gave my false hope, and i believed him.  jesus, i actually cannot even get over how stupid i am.  to be moronic enough to cling to the hope of it, and be happy.  and get a solid kick in the teeth not 3 days later.

his words: My heart is not in it.

well fucking cookie for you.  should have pulled your head out of your ass before you sent me off with hope.    moreover, you should have grown a pair and used your big mouth to say something, before becoming a bully about it.

and yes, ignoring someone for days on end, being unwilling to follow through on promises…. that is you, being a bully and a coward.

you cannot claim to love someone, then treat them  like that.  then you might want to explore what ‘love’ means, pal.   love is utter respect and consideration for someone.  not just the way they make your ego feel.

and this, i think, is the humdinger.  it wasn’t about the dog, it was about the collar.

the perks of having a half goodlooking girlfriend on your arm, who laughs at your jokes, who does geeky shit with you, who posts shit on your wall…..  this makes you feel fluffy.  but when the actual work begins…  when you actually have to come to the party, to show the goods, then your wheels fall off.

and yes, I’m pissed.  I’m fucking furious in fact.  that i had put my trust, my respect, in someone who cant return the favor.   in fact, someone who doesnt have the balls to even lift a finger to fight for someone they claimed was the best thing i’ve ever had.  maar nou ja.    talk is cheap.

i’m also pissed, because i shared every morsel of information i had. i had been utterly honest.  i never lied.  i never played games.  i gave them all the room they needed.  they knew exactly what they were getting into.   and i was forgiving, even after being chased out of their house, for daring to hang around later than they liked.  but i deemed them worthy of forgiveness.

in retrospect, i wished i had just walked out there and then.

i generally try and garner an education from relationship.  knowledge to help me along in life.  things to learn from myself and others.  but i think, this is the first time, in a long time, that i deemed a relationship an utter waste of my time.

instead of being able to take nuggets of wizdom from it, i am left with even less faith in humanity than before.  i would have been better off if i had never entered into this relationship.  it had not enhanced my view of the world, or men, or sex, or myself.  and had depleted it.

all the good times, was not worth having hope ripped away.  i would, given a second chance, walk away.  without a doubt.

so basically, in lieu of actually being able to say this in person, i will send it into the intertubes.

fuck you, buddy.

and you can keep the butthurt too.

i will walk away from this more bitter, and suspect, than ever.  and it will take a small miracle for me to even bother with anyone ever again.

is there room for another try with someone else?  who the fuck knows.  i doubt it. even a stupid dog knows to keep away after it has been kicked enough.

that is all.  as you were.

It’s a uterus – get over it

I find it all kinds of pathetic, when men get fidgety around the topic of menstruation.

Adult, grown-ass men, who have (one would assume) had sex more than a dozen times. Who have fucked, fingered and sucked on cunts. But get all kinds of uncomfortable, when said cunt emits blood.

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Cry me a fucking river.

Grown ass adult men, with hairy chests and a pair of balls, can’t handle the discussion around ‘woman things’. But can wax lyrical about a pair of tits. Christ on a cracker. I can’t even.

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A few things I want to point out off the bat:

  1. Menstruation is not evil, dirty, unnatural, etc etc.
  2. Human females are not the only mammal to have a period. Canids (that’s dog for the stupid amongst you), primates, shrews and bats have a reproductive cycle that includes the shedding of the uterus lining too.
  3. Menstrual blood isn’t bad blood, no matter what the hippies tell you. Its not blood that the body sheds because its old/dirty/poisoned. The body prepares a lining of blood rich tissue in the uterus before during and after ovulation, to support a growing fetus, should fertilization occur. If not, the lining is shed. Thus menstruation. Would the body really prepare dirty blood for a growing infant? Not. So don’t be a fucking moron.

Let me talk y’alls ignorant asses through the joy of a woman’s monthly cycle.

  1. You start with your period. It can be anything from 3 to 7 days of bleeding. Which, because society consists of dumbfuck assholes, we have to hide with pad and tampons and discreet visits to the loo every 3 hours.
    if you are lucky, your period arrives without much ado. If you are not so lucky, you are blessed with cramps. Now for the male to understand said pain, imagine food poisoning, and a jolly stomach bug. Your insides twist and jab. Add to that, shooting pain down legs, heavy dull pain in delicate bits. Lower back pain. Chills. Diarrhoea. Puking.
  2. Then, when that ends, you are blessed with an outbreak of pimples, if you didn’t already get that before or during your period.
  3. A small bit respite, before you ovulate. For some women, it’s not noticeable. For others, you have a sharp pain on the side of the ovary that’s producing an egg at that time.
  4. Then, you start retaining water. Your boobs swell, which hurts. You start looking like you are pregnant. And you get constipated, which add to it.
  5. Then your hormones go apeshit. You cry at a toiletpaper commercial with a puppy in it. Or want to kill everyone. You cant control it. You sure don’t want it. But fuck you, it’s there.
  6. Then you start it all over again, when you period hits.

So thank you SO MUCH, for all you immature asshats out there, who make this entire experience even more enjoyable, because making us feel shit about a natural occurrence, that we are made to feel ashamed of.

Some things you should know, as a dude:

  1. If a woman talks about her period, and it makes you uncomfortable, you are an immature asshole
  2. If you are too chickenshit or embarrassed to go buy her tampons/pads at the shops, you are an immature asshole.
  3. If you don’t mind getting jizz on your hands, but think getting period blood on it is disgusting, you are an immature asshole
  4. If your woman is on her period, and you are too much of a cunt to just have sex with her, and you insist on a blowjob, you are an immature asshole, and deserve to be dumped.
  5. If the thought of seeing a used tampon or pad freaks you out, you are an immature asshole
  6. If you mock a woman for having PMS, or downplay her period pain, you are an emotionally abusive fuck, and should be shot in the face with a planet.

If any of the above applies to you, you need to grow the fuck up, and be a man, and not a child. It’s just blood, you fuckwad. It’s proteins and salts and water. There is nothing wrong with it. There is nothing wrong with her. There is only something wrong with YOU.

It’s bad enough that society makes women feel shitty about pretty much occupying space, the least you can do is not be a giant asshole around something she firstly, can’t control, and secondly is perfectly fucking normal.

And if you are one of those sad little twits that pass out at the sight of blood, then you should not reproduce in the first place, since you obviously have inferior genes.

Stronger sex my ass.

So get the fuck over yourself buddy. And you might get some ass in the process.

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I’ve Liked and Shared. I’m an activist.

cookie for you sunshine.

no.  you are not an activist.  liking and sharing that pic, achieved as much as praying.

and here is why:

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1. like and share this to stop animal abuse/rhino poaching/rape/genocide/vaginal prolapse

unless the image you are sharing, goes along with a link to an organization that i can donate to, then it’s fucking useless.  me seeing that image, does nothing.  zero. zip. nada. it does not help abused animals, or stop rhino poaching, or stop women from being raped.  why? BECAUSE A PICTURE DOES FUCKALL.  unless there is an actionable thing, a link to follow to a page, or number to phone, a place to boycott, then it does nothing.  the woo-woo powers of you sharing that image, is not going to magically make owners of dog fighting syndicates feel bad, and stop what they are doing.  SO STOP SHARING THIS SHIT.

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2.  like this to stop animal abuse/if you are against domestic violence/Palestine invading turkey

sure, you are against whatever it is you are against.  does, however, this do a single fucking thing to prevent said thing?

no.

does you liking this post, donate money to organizations or causes to prevent such thing?

no.

does it make you look like a schmuck who who just want to look  important?

yes.

unless, again, there is some link to a cause that you can join, or donate to, you are just having a giant ego wank on your social media.  people will pat you on your virtual head, by liking your picture.  and everyone will have a cyber circle jerk about what awesome people they are, for sharing a completely useless picture, about how holier-than-thou they are.

STOP IT.

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3.  the emotional blackmail share

well, fuck you really.

so you are implying that i’m a heartless fuck, for not sharing your clickbating-esque bad taste picture.

tell me again, how me sharing this pic, will allieve the suffering of anybody. anywhere.  ever.

again, refer to actionable results mentioned above.

filling my feed with horrid pics, is just a fucking piece of shit way to ruin my day.  can i do anything about this poor animal, at this time?  no.  do i want to do something?  FUCK YES!!  are you enabling me to donate money/support a cause?  NO YOU FUCKTARD, YOU ARE NOT.

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4.  stop killing the poor animals!

absolutely!  where must i go to have people stop killing dogs?  oh?  yes, THERE IS NO FUCKING LINK, LOGO, WEBSITE.

jesus.

moral of the story is:  if you are going to break my fucking heart, or have a social ego wank on my social feeds, at least pull your head out of your ass for long enough, to actually direct me to website or page or something, where i can donate money to people who can actually do something about it.

and it this picture has no link?  THEN USE YOUR FUCKING BRAIN, and link the Kitty and Puppy Haven, or the SPCA, or PAWS.  and make sure to say, donate to these places, in order to assist in helping these poor critters.

if you don’t do this, then you are just masturbating online.  STOP IT.

OH, AND FUCKING DITTO FOR USELESS MARCHES AND PROTESTS AGAINST STUFF THAT HAPPENS MILES AWAY.

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The next time you want to have an opinion about a woman who is abused…..

i suggest you shut the fuck up.

seriously.  especially if you are one of those cunts who say (amongst other things):

1. why doesnt she just leave.  she obviously enjoys it

2.  she must have done something to deserve it

3. it’s none of my business that goes on in her personal life.

 

if you have uttered any of the above, you are an asshole, and i will tell you as much to your face.

 

and here is why;

 

i grew with an abusive father, who ruled the house in fear.  you never knew which end of the stick you would get.  if you did, well ANYTHING, you could get either praise or punishment.  there wasn’t really any yardsticks.  my mum had learned to just keep quiet and do as she was told.  unfortunately for me, i had a brain, and despite the allmighty fear of getting beaten purple, my rebellious streak had me doing stupid shit all the time.

sentences like ‘i will beat you into hospital’ was nothing strange in our house.  slaps to face is very possible, or a fist to the ribs.  or getting beaten with a leather army belt till the blood seeps through the skin.  

on some days, that fear is replaced with camaraderie, friendship, playing, gifts, being spoilt.  you get a kitten out of the blue.  you get a motorbike when it wasnt your birthday.  you get taken for ice cream for no reason.

any given day could offer any of those results.  you never knew which you could get.

 

having left school, and started working immediately, (no money for studying), my first boyfriend turned out to be a very insecure short little man.  after he got home drunk, kicked a hole in the door, and proceeded to strangle me, i left him for woman.  which was the most beautifull revenge i could have doled out.

 

the next man i dated, was an indian guy from Kenya.  while all romantic, he was pretty much useless, and helped me spend my inheritance money from my dad’s death.  sufficed to say, he buggered off back to kenya, and he still owes me rent.  but anyhow.  he introduced me to drugs, which is not a problem.  the problem was, he took advantage of it.  not wanting to get into the details of it, let’s just leave it at, it wasnt fun for me.

 

the next guy, bless him, was a musician.  i will say that, eventhough he was airy-fairy, he was sweet, and innocent, and never did me wrong.  

 

then, i met my ex husband.  sweet baby jesus.  his name is Andrew Gavin Kock.  I name him, because he deserves to be named.

 

when people don’t understand how women can end up an abusive relationship, it’s because, they arent assholes from moment one.  nobody is going to date someone who treats them like shit.

abusers have a very specialized skill.  they can spot insecure women.  and rope them in before they can cotton on to what’s happening.

 

when i met him, he was sweet, caring, attentive, affirming, romantic to a point of ridiculousness.  he said things nobody had ever said to me.  checked up on me all the time.  mailed and sms’d constantly.  came to visit me at work.  took me to awesome places.

told me i was beautiful, and special, and smart, had a sexy body, that he never felt about anyone like this, that he was infatuated.  he would send me poetry, and pick me flowers. told me how much he loved my hair.

soon, i allmost spent every night at his place.  he asked me about my life, my work, my hopes, my dream, my fears.

when i wanted to spend time with my cats, he would be sad, because he just wanted to be with me, and would miss me.  so soon i only saw them to feed them.

when i wanted time alone, he would say i dont love him.  and it would escalate into a fight, and soon i learnt to just spend time with him, because the fight wasn’t worth it.

after about 4 months of dating, he would say he could ‘see me as his wife’.  that sent all manners of fluttering in my heart.  i mean, who doesnt like hearing that someone thinks you are that important.

soon, he proposed (well, when i say proposed, we had sushi dinner, i was getting into the car, and he said ‘so, you gonna be my wife’, and i was like, yeah ok).  needless to say, i had no idea that was actually the proposal.  and, when i was  upset that it had been to completely nonchalant, and insignificant, i was told i was being sulky and ungratefull.

his controlling behavior became increasingly evident.  at some point, i had to mail him when i got to work, mail him if i went out anywhere during the workday.  mail him 10mins before i left in the afternoon, and mail before i shut down my pc to leave.  if i didnt, it would escalate into an argument.  and it was easier to just do it.  if i didnt sms him while he was on a run, i would get asked ‘didnt you miss me’.  and that would escalate into an argument.

nevertheless, the romance continued.  i was invested.  if i had a bad day, and didnt answer the phone chipper enough, i was being rude, and he would sulk.  if he didnt get sex every day,  he would sulk. i wasnt allowed to be unhappy, or moody, and pms-ey.

 

he pushed for us to get married soon, he ‘didnt believe in long engagements’.  so, the date was set.  we were engaged for two months before he told his parents.  he had some reason, but i cant remember it.  he made a grand show of asking my mother for my hand in marriage.  everyone thought he was the greatest.

 

just a note on abusive men:  they are not cunts to the world.  they are charming, sensitive, helpfull, friendly, caring…..   they dont show any violent behavior.  so when you tell people about the violence and abuse you experience, who’s gonna believe  you?

 

i had intended to move in with him.  so i carted all my cats over there.  the first night, he didnt secure a window properly, and my cat Seth got out.  i was devastated.  i looked and called.  and after two days, i went to my office to print flyers to put up.  on this day, he wanted to go watch the rugby at the local pub.  i wanted to put up flyers and look for my cat.  he proceeded to mock me, by driving up and down the road where i was walking, and laughing.  it turned into a huge palava.  i nearly left him them, and in retrospect, i should have just grown a pair and did just that.  till this day, when i drive past that spot, i get tearfull, wondering what happened to my loving boy Seth.  he didnt deserve that.

 

a few months before the wedding, i had gone to donate eggs (as i often did).  now, this procedure leaves one, a little tender in the downstairs department.  and even though i asked him to not have sex for a few days, he whined and sulked, and to prevent another blow-out, i just let him.  also, he refused to use condoms.  REFUSED.  so, me being insanely fertile at that point, he insisted on having sex.  using the pull-out technique.  even though i told him, it’s a bullshit method.  it would have resulted in days of sulking and arguments, so i just relented.

and of course, i got pregnant.

not so much as a sorry from him.  of course, i knew this baby could not happen.  there was absolutely no money for a child.  it would be a disaster.  that was why i decided on an abortion.  his reason for choosing an abortion was ‘i dont want my family to think that we are getting married because you are pregnant’.  what a dude.

i opted for the miscairage pill.  which you take at home.  on that day, he conveniently had a meeting.  i had to go through all that.  alone.  all the pain.  the fear.  the uncertainty.  he rocked up it when it was all over.  a ray of sunshine.  not so much as a ‘sorry you had to go through that alone’. it was two days before my birthday.

 

so, you would think, after that, i would have kicked him to the dirt, right?  nope.  you are so far down the rabbit hole,  that your own logic, doesnt make sense anymore.  things you thought you knew, gets dismissed.  his emotions gets projected onto you.  lies upon lies upon lies.  arguments daily.  you walk on eggs.  and you think;  maybe i am being too moody.  maybe i should just not complain as much.  he’s under pressure, i should cut him some slack.  he wouldnt lie to me. i’m pretty sure he said that, but now i’m not so sure anymore.

you doubt yourself.  and that’s what they want.  they want you to wonder, because they want to control you.  you build you up, then slowly start taking you apart.

 

i conclude here, tonight, because it’s becoming increasingly emotional to have to recall all this shit.

if you have the balls to read this, and the next ones, then you will hopefull never be a dick towards an abused woman, or man, for that matter.  you will no longer be able to just shrug and walk away.

 

and if you choose to judge me for me choices, then you can truly and honestly go fuck yourself.  if you are unable to see how an abuser manipulates and controls a person, then you should rather not breed.

 

part two to follow…..

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scraping the barrel

i would like to think i’m a tough cookie.  that i’m balsy, independent, and dont need nuthin from nobody. well, you know, i need a salary from my boss, and a place to stay from my landlord, but you know what im getting at.

 

now, unfortunately, i happen to be of the human species.  we are herd animals, god help us.  and we need companionship.  be it in the form of spouse and offspring, friends, family, significant other…. we seem to rely on input from others to thrive.

some of us are a little borked, and manage to do without.

i, am not one of those people.  to my utter disgust.

i wish i could be someone who never needs companionship.  who is happy to go live in a mountain forest, (with connectivity you see), and surround myself with silence and emptiness.  but, alas, i have inherited that fucking bane of humanity; loneliness.

 

see, i am at my happiest, when im needed.  so im this pathetic little puppy, so goddamn eager to please.  which is so many levels of sad.  i know i am co-dependent.  and im sure a whole cart-load of other shrink-terms.  and some of them might be learn from the parentals.  some might have been inflicted on me by previous partners.  but at the end of it all, i am the only one who doles out the crazy.  so i cant wash my hands of it completely.

 

so, in that vein, i had undertaken deep introspection.  forced on me, mind you, but yet another spectacular fuckup of a relationship geothermic episode.  i just cant seem to keep em around. 

given, i had a rather shitty pick, and some of them i sent packing myself, but not a single one went into the sunset without tears.  mine or theirs.

 

so in all this woefull introspection, i had to come to terms with some epic shit.  one of them being my asexuality (the whole palava here).  the other, what that will mean.  mostly, i will be alone.  which is fucking terrifying.

 

now, when it comes to brave faces, and filing things in drawer 13, i own the goddamn patents.  very few people will ever see me bawl.  or angry.  i will seethe at you, but i will not shit you out.  i will let it simmer.

ditto for the sads.  i will be the funniest fuck around, two minutes after losing my dog.  it’s how i roll.  emotion is weakness.  the less people know about what makes you tick, the less they can fuck with you.  (FSM knows i found that out the hard way)

 

Mulder always said, trust no one.  and i should have listened.  coz every fucking cocksucker on this planet, will fuck you over.  there is a price where everyone will bend.  it may be a spectacular pair of tits, money, class (you better believe im zef).  at some point, you will no longer tick the boxes and you WILL be voted off the island.  that’s life.

and you know, i think, at last year this time, having been dumped by someone i had given more time and energy than they deserved, and having had to sift through the ashes of my heart for a semblance of life, i realised, that, it’s gonna be ok.  me myself and i, we can do this.

 

then i had a brief interim of togetherness which was awkward.  which actually made it worse.  but i digress.

 

so there i stood,  facing myself in the mirror.  knowing, that yes, i will be alone.  and i will make it.  and i will be ok.  and i am smart enough, and resourceful enough, to be successfully single, forever.

and it was ok.  this immense mountain of aloneness that was waiting for me.  to be honest, the mountain of having to live a lie with someone untill i was outed, was much higher, and definitely more fraught with hurt.

i had gathered good friends in my single time.  and i had barely time for myself, for all the activity abound.  i had adopted a new dog.  i had taken on an especially complicated cosplay. (why i do this to myself).  i had this single thing sorted.

it didnt matter that i religiously avoided any and all romantic movies.  and feels moments in movies made me cry more than was normal.  and i had allready re-watched Supernatural for the 4th time.  this was all growing pains.  i had to get used to not having anyone to rely on (fuck knows i’ve been doing that anyhows).

 

and then.

jesuschrist and then.

an unassuming day at a buddhist temple.  turned into something my brain still balks at.

i would lie if i said it was love at first sight.  because the first time i saw him, he was the Sith Emperor, and not all that handsome.

and we had chatted online about odds and ends.

but by the time i sat my ass down after a day of tofu and dancing lions, i was grinning.  like a fool i tell ya.

 

the bollywood addict in me, wants to run in the rain singing.

the realist in me, is waiting for the bomb to drop.

i know this song.  the romance, the mush, the apathy, the loathing.  it’s a cycle.  it’s always the same.

so why do it?  why do all this shit again?

is it maybe, that, eventhough all this giddiness is hormones and evolution urging me to procreate, and the herd wanting me bond, maybe i want this.  maybe i also want a happily ever after.  no matter how hard i rebel against it.

maybe i also secretly dream of a picket fence (sans the 2.5 kids).  of someone who will have my back.  someone who gives a shit if my day has been ass.  and understand my Supernatural addiction.  and knows how important good coffee is to me.

 

i would like to think, that i am old, grumpy and bitter enough, not to fall into the same traps as before.  that i can see bullshit coming from a mile off.  but who knows, maybe i’ve learn nothing.

 

right now, though, i know i feel elated.  energized.  noticed, appreciated.  i know there is a space for me somewhere.  there is someone who values me.  and gives a shit.

and that makes me happy. 

and the feminist in me is burning bra’s at an alarming rate.  but i dont think i care.

all i want to do, right now, is ride this wave.  all of it.  the romance, the feels, the mush, the giddy headiness of endorphin overload.  i want to drink it in.  this might be the last time i feel it.

because, this might very well be, the closest i will ever get, to a mail-order boyfriend.

someone is crooked, like me.  and approaches life in a way that has other people shaking their heads.  who is confident enough to carry my bombastic and crude attitude. who wont wither under my sarcasm.  who has enough hutzpah to keep up with my silliness.  has a dark and sometimes sick sense of humor, like me.   where on this green earth has this man been hiding all my life?

could i have not been saved all the shit and drama, and just ended up here from the start?  fuck me.

 

but i guess not.  i would not have been who i am now, had i not walked the road i did.  and i might have ended up a vapid little annoyance.

 

if i was of the sky-brigade, i would have said that i am blessed.  but i would imagine, i just had stupidly good luck.

that of all the humans on this city, i had the chance to meet and bond with this particular one.  that just somehow…. fits.

it’s very arrogant to make confident statements of lasting love at such an early juncture.  but i feel confident that things are good.  hell things are great.  i feel confident that my brain is sufficiently in place, to prevent the hormones form drowning me.

maybe, i just happened to find a really awesome man. who happens to think i am the shit. and have no qualms about telling me so.

maybe, eventhough every logical inclination in me, is shouting to not fall, i am falling.  and i think i made a conscious decision to do just that.  to fall.  and let go.  and what if it goes to shit?  will it break me completely?  it might.  it might not. 

i dont know.

 

all i know, is that currently, right now.  i am wanting to shout to the world how fucking lucky i am.  and how teenager silly infatuated i am.  and how i dont even care that im being a nuisance about it. or that my gushy romantic schmoop is making everyone ill.

this thing.  this previous ember we have.  is something i had not dared to hope for.  it’s something i had filed away, and pretended not to feel the hollow in me. so, yes.  i will gush.  and gibber. and make a fool of myself.  because i had, against my own stubbornness, and doubt, and fears, found someone who gets it.  who gets me.  who sees my broken shit, and accepts it.  and i’ll be a fucking idiot to let that go cold and die.

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

Frank Herbert, Dune