On the Search Again

When I started this blogging adventure, I had this unrealistic idea that I would start blogging and everyone would love the little tidbits of psychosis I share daily and they would share it to their friends, and their friends would share it, and so on and so forth until I easily had over ten thousand readers a month who wanted to know what little ole me was up to. I did mention that was unrealistic, yea? What I have found is that there are fifty or so people who return day after day to see what I’ve gotten myself into before returning to their real lives. And honestly, every day I’m surprised you all still keep coming back. I let go of my little unrealistic fantasy quite a while ago, but I have a firm grasp on the happiness and peace of mind that blogging has brought me. I know sometimes I overshare and contribute to the overload of TMI (too much information) on the internet, and a small part of me apologizes for that, but that’s like my little toe of an apology. The rest of me is jumping up and down in the air everyday that my page has more than two views and, at times, congratulating myself for saying what I think other people probably want to say or have said. Sometimes when it is close to midnight and I haven’t a thing on my mind worth mentioning, I start to panic because I feel like if I go to sleep without something waiting to post at 12:01am,   I may not wake up in the morning. It would be like going without air….or pizza. A girl just can’t live without the necessities and now that I’m in the habit of writing daily, I start to get a little  worried when I literally have nothing on my mind.   I get to that place of peace and contentment where nothing is bothering me and my mind is quiet and all of a sudden, I hear this voice boom in my ear like the liberty bell, “WRITE!!” And it startles me like a phone call in the middle of the night, but the crazy thing is, shortly after that, some random subject pops into my head and voila! A blog starts. Today was not one of those days. I have had the same thing on my mind for the last few days, maybe even the last few weeks. I need to find a new job. Not even a job. I need to find a career. I’m forty years old and I have been bouncing from job to job to job my whole life. I always blamed it on needing flexibility or needing to work around the kids’ schedules or just not being able to find something that I love to do. A wise man recently told me, “If it pays well, you probably won’t love it. If you love it, it probably won’t pay well.” There’s a whole lot of truth in that tiny little statement. The problem is, do I want to be able to survive or do I want to do something that makes me happy and just get by? I struggle daily with the answer. The one thing I do know is that I definitely want and need a job with some sort of stability. I never thought I would want something more permanent in my life like dental insurance and 401k and paid time off, but I only have twenty years or so left before I’m of “retirement” age and I legitimately have zero dollars saved for that. I don’t even have a savings account. I read an article on that Dave Ramsey site the other day that said something along the lines of: you always have money laying around. Sell something like your old jewelry  and put that money in the bank for a rainy day. And all I could think was that all my jewelry was handmade and even though I rarely wear it, even if it had any monetary value, which it doesn’t, it carries tons of sentimental value. Upon further review, I settled on the notion that I have nothing worth monetary value. Everything I have, I have because it makes me happy, it would hold no value for anyone else. So I can’t sell my valuables to start my nest egg. The next best thing I can do is to get my shit together. I just want to find a job that pays me enough to pay all my bills and still have money to eat until my next pay day. And maybe, just maybe, if I’m lucky, I would have enough left over to be able to actually save a dollar or two each week. I also want accrued vacation time. I know it seems silly, but as of right now, I am considered “part time” at my job. I was lied to and told that I was full time, but that was not the case. I have since written the District Manager to arrange a meeting, but I doubt very much that things will go in my favor since the priority is the business not those who help to keep it running smoothly, but I am holding on to a shred of hope. I mention the vacation thing because I was told that I only had to work over 30 hours for a year and then I would be given full time status, which would be all fine and dandy if I was able to go a whole year without ever needing an extra day off or never wanting to take a 4 day weekend, because that would drop me under the 30 hour average and I would have to start my year all over again. I guess they didn’t think I would figure that out until it was too late, but this is not my first rodeo. Or my second. I’ve worked for nonprofits, I’ve worked in the for profit industry, I will admit to being a job hopper, but that is only because life is hard enough as it is especially when you are perpetually living in poverty and if I have to spend 40 hours a week in a place away from my children, then shouldn’t that place bring me a little bit of joy? Or at least more joy than despair or frustration. I know, I’m living in a fairy tale world and I want to work in a stable filled with unicorns and eat Ben & Jerry’s every day for lunch without gaining a pound, but if that’s not possible, I don’t think it’s too much to ask to want to wake up in the morning and not dread having to get dressed to go to a place where you are underpaid and underappreciated.

He Doesn’t Even Know He Might Be a Hippie

Apparently African people have all the knowledge that we Americans are lacking when it comes to living naturally. Although, maybe that should be a given considering life started in Africa so maybe they’ve had way longer to figure things out than we immigrants of the United States have. I have been on this “natural” journey for a few years now. I am not near where I would like to be, but I’m slowly getting there. I wrote earlier about my deodorant dilemma and my quest to “un-stinky” my pits. I used the crystal deodorant that I had to wet before applying. I used the crystal deodorant that came with some sort of wetness already applied, but still aluminum free. Then I started using a home made deodorant that I got from a customer made with lavender and other essential oils and I don’t really know what else and I liked it, but one day I had been out in the hot sun and I was feeling a little less than sexy when Derek came by. He leaned in to hug me and I immediately told him he may want to start rethinking his life choices because I stunk. He laughed and told me I didn’t smell bad, but I am fairly certain he was just being nice or he lacks the ability to smell anything.  He then told me in Ghana they use lemon and ash as a deodorant. Of course, I wanted to know more. But there was no more to it than that. You just dip the lemon in the ash, rub it under your pits, let it sit for a few minutes, and wash it off. Voila!!! No more stinky pits. I was skeptical at first, like I am about almost everything in life, but astonishingly, it worked like a charm. So my new morning routine consists of lemon and ash before my shower. When I say ash, I mean good old fashioned wood ash from the fire, but natural, of course. It can’t be doused in lighter fluid or anything. It has to be started naturally from kindling and flame basically. I did use a little bit of paper to get er going, but that was about it. When I collected the ash, it was still pretty hot. I made the mistake of initially trying to put it in a plastic container but I quickly learned my lesson there as the ash melted the container in my hand. Then I got smart and used a glass soup cup and let the ash cool before moving it to a plastic container with a lid. So I had this container of ash sitting on my kitchen counter and I knew there had to be some other natural stuff I could do with ash, plus, I had a bunch so it was going to take me a while to use all that I had as deodorant. I asked what else I could use it for and he said my teeth. And I was like, “nope.”

But then he told me that you didn’t just put the ash in your mouth like mouthwash. Which, when he said it, I was imagining chewing a piece of chalk and that doesn’t sound like a good day to me. He told me that there is a thing called a chewing sponge (I think that’s what he called it). He said it came from a tree or something and you chew it and then dip it in the ash and use it as a “toothbrush.” I was a little skeptical at first (surprise, surprise). He came over tonight and brought some of this “chewing sponge.” It basically looked like straw in a way or hay, maybe. He cut a decent sized piece off and told me to chew it. I started chewing and immediately started salivating because it tasted weird to me. I guess I’m not used to the flavor of African tree byproducts. And I guess my face said as much because all he could do was laugh at me. It wasn’t that it tasted bad, but it was definitely different and I felt like it was burning my tongue. If he wasn’t such a nice guy, sometimes I would think he just randomly comes up with shit to tell me because he knows I’ll try it. Luckily, he’s a nice guy and wouldn’t do that. So I chewed and chewed and chewed this straw until it turned spongelike in my mouth. By that time, he had left and it was just me, the chewing sponge, and the ash. So I carefully dipped my new apparatus in the ash and began “brushing” my teeth. I didn’t even notice the taste, which was my major concern and when I was done, my teeth felt amazing as if I had just left the dentist after a cleaning. Speaking of cleaning, did you know that if you warm up prune juice and drink it, that it works like a cleanse? Just a little food for thought. Or should I say drink for thought?

Needless to say, I’m completely enthralled with Derek’s knowledge of “alternative” ways to do things. It’s amusing to me because people always call me a hippie and I feel like I am nowhere near it. If anyone is a hippie, it’s him, but no need to split hairs over it. I just think it’s really cool that every time I mention that I wish I had an alternative for (insert whatever here), he immediately gives me a natural alternative for it. It’s quite amazing.

Just in case you couldn’t figure it out from the above mention of him, Derek and I got past our little bump in the road (aka me being a weirdo) and things are going swimmingly well. I’ve noticed that as each day goes by I like him more and more. And that’s an amazing feeling considering it is usually the opposite that happens. It’s been a month since we started seeing each other and he becomes more endearing every day. And I have no complaints.


My Bucket List

I went out for a day out on the town with my mom today. I don’t do that near enough, partly because I don’t have a car and she wont ride the bus with me, but I had my sister’s car today and so we went to eat pizza and watch Me Before You. Without spoiling anything, one of the characters mentioned a bucket list. I have a small obsession with making my bucket list. I have never really written it down. I just keep it in a little page in my mind. Today, though, I decided that is a terrible idea, mostly because my  mind is basically a bowl of smashed potatoes and my memories are the fork marks overlapping each other and disappearing into the chaos. So I thought maybe I should make a bucket list. I’m not sure if I could even begin to cover all of the things that I would like to accomplish before I kick the bucket, so I may randomly add to it in a blog called My Bucket List Part 2, or My Bucket List Part 3, or 4 or 5. My point is, I reserve the right to rewrite this list as often as possible. Just as a starting point, here are some of the things I have on my list. I would say in no particular order, but I would like the first few to be in this particular order.

  • Win the Mega Millions (preferably this evening) so I can do all of the following and help people. I will be sure to give all of you a little piece. I’m pretty certain I know which 32 people are reading this faithfully. Thanks for that 😉
  • Laser Hair Removal (all over) because today I went to the grocery store and as I was walking around I realized that I was wearing shorts and I couldn’t remember the last time I shaved my legs. I was so terrified to look down I almost didn’t, but luckily, I must have recently or else my leg hair miraculously turned translucent. Also, laser hair removal because… chin hair.
  • Dinner with Kymani Marley (I refuse to give up on this dream). 
  • Radio show hostess, preferably syndicated, because I think my fear of public speaking would be a non issue if people weren’t looking at me. I could be funny and invisible at the same time. I think the FCC would have to lighten its language rules before I could have my own show or maybe I would have to find a world that is as favorable to me as fuck. What? It could totally happen.
  • Travel… I don’t even know where to begin with this. There are so many places I want to see. I would start with the “lands.” Iceland, Greenland, Ireland, Poland, Scotland, England and then make my way to  Italy, France, Africa, and all parts of the Caribbean. And of course, I want to visit the big landmarks in all of our 50 States. I feel like I may not live long enough to see everything.
  • Ride a horse and not just on a little guided tour. I want to really ride a horse, jeans, cowboy boots, hat and all. I know it seems silly, but I love horses. I love everything about them. I love how beautiful they are. I love their piercing eyes and I love the way they smell. I want to ride until my ass hurts and the horse looks at me like, “are we done yet?”
  • I want to sail out into the middle of the ocean. Not on a cruise ship either. On a sailboat or some other smaller than a cruise ship vessel.
  • I want to take dance lessons- salsa, swing, ballroom. If it has music, I want to be able to dance to it.
  • I want to learn to paint, play the piano, take beautiful photos, & decorate cakes.
  • And more than anything, I want to write about doing all those things.

Like I said, I’m sure there are many more things to add to this list and I will from this day forward keep the list in my notepad and add to it as I find new things that I want to do before I take my last breath.

Speaking of my notepad. I know I have mentioned her sketchy contents a time or two. I use my notepad a lot. Whenever a random thought pops into my head, I write it down, just in case I have some sort of writer’s block and can’t figure out what to blog about. I figure it will come in handy one day. The problem with the notes, though, is that sometimes I write things and forget what the hell I meant or where I was going with it, so I thought I would drop a few examples below. It may hit me one day what I wanted to write about that so if it pops up again, you’ll know that one night I sat upright in my bed and started furiously writing because the whole train of thought came chugging back to me at the witching hour.

  • Poets not Warriors (I think I know where this one was going…stay tuned).
  • I’m Like a Suicidal Tightrope Walker (don’t know what I was thinking but I’m fond of this idea).
  • The Things I won’t do for love or money, I’d probably do for really great sex (hmmm?)
  • I might be a groupie (Ha! That’s self explanatory).
  • Who the fuck is Carrie Bradshaw?
  • Maybe I like shady men because they have no room to judge my poor life choices
  • I fell in love and then left it to rot like an apple with one bite taken out
  • I wonder if The Tomato Head would give me a date booth with a camera so I could show people what the fuck I’m dealing with (obviously this was pre-Derek).
  • How can I miss something that was so wrong for me?
  • I am an item of contention among mediocre relationships
  • I sleep with my laptop as if it were my lover
  • She’s had so many dicks in her the condom factory is jealous (my personal favorite and I have no idea what I was thinking about at this moment).

The previous bullets are why I say that if I ever lose my phone, I hope whoever finds it and is unable to unlock it will delete all my notes before they recover my body wherever it is. And those were just a few I had in my Gmail notes. I still have 154 other notes in my iCloud notes that are much stranger than the above. I think maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t be able to wander the streets alone with just my thoughts and my phone. Then again, how else will I entertain myself if not with thoughts of my impending death and all the things I want to do before that day and, of course,  with small pieces of my psychosis peppered in just for the hell of it?


A Cheap Engagement

I know I mentioned that Derek and I went out to eat yesterday, but at the time I wrote the blog I was trying with everything I had to hold my eyes open and I couldn’t fully delve into our evening because I was not feeling very entertaining, but our conversation over dinner was very entertaining and educational to say the least and I wanted to share because for the exact reason that probably every woman reading this will say, “RUN NOW!” It turns out that is the exact reason I want to hold him close.

Dinner started off like you would expect. We ordered water to drink and looked over the menu. As I mentioned yesterday, I was not feeling very hot. I had a headache and I was nauseous and I probably could have gone all night without eating, but when a man says, “Let’s get you something to eat,” you don’t argue. Especially when you are kind of in love with that man. So we are eating our salad and complimentary bread, when we get on the subject of death. He lost his aunt a year ago and he has a keychain with her picture so he looked at it and said he couldn’t believe it had been a year already. Then I, of course, want to know what an African funeral is like. He tells me it is different than in the States because there is no rush to bury the person. You have to come up with the money to pay for everything, family has to fly in if they don’t live there,  and it’s a process.   Then we get on the subject of burial versus cremation. He wants to be buried. I want to be cremated. His reason- he never read about any cremation in the bible. My reason- I want to be set on top of a funeral pyre with coins placed over my eyes and burned Game of Thrones style.

The next subject that comes up, naturally, is weddings. So he starts to tell me how a traditional “proposal” happens in Ghana. He’s been married twice. His first wife passed away. The second one ended in divorce. Both proposals happened here in the States so it was not the “traditional” way of his country, but he’s not much for traditions, it seems. In the midst of the proposal conversation, he mentions a $20 wedding ring. He said he went to Wal-Mart and got a ring for $20 both times. After I got done laughing, I was like, “seriously?” And he said, “Of course.” He then explained that the ring is just a symbol so why pay so much for it when it can be lost or dropped or thrown or whatever. So I said, “And they were ok with that?” And he said, “Well if they weren’t they could get their own ring.” By this time, I’m highly amused with this conversation. He says if they want a $5000 engagement ring, they need to find someone else to marry because he’s not the one for them. And he was telling me how he told his friends that and they couldn’t believe it. So he finished telling me his $20 Wal-Mart ring story and he was waiting for my reaction, I suppose, but nothing he said sounded unreasonable to me. Partly because I never really imagined myself wearing a wedding ring anyway, but mostly because by time we finished that conversation he was dropping $40 on our dinner bill and if I have to pick, I choose food. So I didn’t really react except for the initial laughter because the way he said it was highly amusing. My response was more along the lines of, “If we get to that point, can you do me a solid and get my $20 ring at Target and not Wal-Mart?” Because I respect Target’s business practices more. He said of course. To him, Wal-Mart and Target were basically the same. It made plenty of sense when he said he’d rather spend his money on food or traveling. Hell, I’d rather spend mine the same way too.   Then he neatly folded up one of the twenties that he had just gotten back in change and with a devilish grin he put it in his wallet separate from his other money and said that was for my Target ring. We both laughed and left the restaurant full and happy.

As I sat pondering the conversation later, I wondered if I would really care if my engagement ring cost $20. And I came to the conclusion that, honestly, it wouldn’t bother me a bit. I concluded that the thing that would bother me would be if he put no thought into the kind of ring he proposed to me with because I’m not a diamond and pearls kind of girl, well, I could be a black diamond kind of girl, but I’m not even a gold kind of girl. I’m more of a sterling silver, tribal band, tree of life, hippie kind of girl. Not that I’m expecting him to propose any time soon or at all if I can’t get my psycho in check, but I did find it amusing. And I was thinking I bet 90% of women would be thinking, “Oh, hell no!” And then I thought maybe not. Maybe most women would rather have love and experiences and a $20 ring over a fat rock and an empty heart and empty passport.  Or at least I hope so.  Thoughts?

A Day and a Half

Well, I woke up with a swollen eye thanks to a stye. I wasn’t sure that’s what it was when I went to bed, but I was sure when I woke up. Derek came over last night kind of late. He would have been here earlier but I was being my usual uncertain self and told him I didn’t want any company, but then we just kept texting one another and before I realized it, all I wanted was to hear his voice in my ear and feel his hands in my hair, so I asked him if it was too late to change my mind and he seemed to have overlooked the question in the midst of our texting so I thought I was going to be sleeping alone until he all of a sudden told me he was on his way as long as I hadn’t  changed my mind again. I think between yesterday and today I figured out part of my problem. Not the part about me being a psychopath. I think we all have that part figured out. But my problem with this whole situation.  It’s the absence. I think sometimes the absence of pain is almost as shocking as the initial pain. Have you ever been hurt by someone or lost someone? Not lost them to death or anything just lost them to a fucked up set of circumstances. You think you’ll never breathe again. Then one day you wake up and you’re breathing. You’re looking in the mirror and your eyes are happy and you don’t hurt any more for any reason. And for a brief moment you miss that pain and you want it back because it was your companion for so long it became a part of who you were until you were happy and it wasn’t you anymore. I think that is what I have been dealing with. It took comments from a couple of you dear readers for me to figure this out. Not that I was grieving or unhappy, but my constant complaining about half ass men and half ass men in the dating world had become my constant companion. It was my comfort zone. For a moment, I thought, if I am happy and can’t complain about the dating world in my quirky little humorous way, that I would somehow be boring or something. I think my being miserable in love has somehow kept me content for so long that I was terribly scared to find someone I could sit across from at a table and enjoy, but as I laid in the dark talking with him last night, I realized that sometimes I am a stupid, stupid girl. And when we got up this morning and went into the kitchen to cook and laugh and eat together, I realized that I could do this every day for the rest of my life.

I had a volunteer gig today at a music festival that he dropped me off at and picked me up from. When I got in the car afterwards, I was fairly miserable. My eye was swollen and ugly. I had been sweating for six hours straight so I probably wasn’t smelling my best. I had a splitting headache from the heat. All I wanted to do was go home and go to bed and maybe throw up, but he wanted to go to the bookstore and look for a book we had been talking about a few days earlier and so I smiled and tried to be excited despite how crappy I was feeling. We went to McKay’s, found the book, and then we drove around for a bit stopping to look at places that were made of stucco because of another previous conversation that we had and we ended up at Carabba’s to eat. By this time it was probably 9:30pm and I had started to feel a little better, though I’m pretty sure it was just my fake it til you make it attitude I had convinced myself to go with. So we ate and talked and laughed and laughed some more, which was odd because I had just gotten done telling two separate people on two separate occasions that we have fun together but we don’t really laugh, but I guess we do. And often.  We drove home still talking and sat outside to continue our conversation for quite a bit until he told me I looked tired and I admitted that I was exhausted and he left. It didn’t feel like midnight when he pulled off, but it was. So now, I’m in my pajamas staring at this computer screen wondering what the fuck my problem has been over the last week. Maybe it was post menstrual syndrome. Is that a thing? I’m not sure, but if I go back and forth one more time about this guy, I really think I need one of you to come slap the insanity out of me because despite what he says, he really is amazing and I really have mental issues that I need to get worked out before I ruin what could possibly be the best thing I’ve ever had.

Waiting It Out

Today was kind of bleh. I wasn’t even going to write today but I didn’t want to fall out of the habit. I woke up with what seems to be the beginning of a stye in my eye, but I can’t be sure. It hurts to touch it (so I’ve stopped touching it) and it’s a little swollen. I actually felt kind of like garbage when I woke up so I cleaned up a bit and then crawled back into bed until I had to get up and get ready for work at noon. I didn’t see Derek today. I actually didn’t even text with him much either. I’m not sure what’s going on there, but I’m just going to patiently wait it out and see. I was walking to work today because I left the house too late to catch the bus and if I waited for the next one I would have been late for work and I pride myself on being punctual so I was going to make the short walk there but out of nowhere City Guy (from a previous blog) showed up and asked me where I was going and offered me a ride. I haven’t seen him in well over a month. We didn’t have a falling out or anything, but like every other guy I’ve had in my life, I was just a convenience to him. He made plans with me on three separate occasions and each time something came up and plans got cancelled. Well, not even cancelled. He just left me sitting around waiting until it was too late and I said forget it. He’s called me a few times after that to see if I wanted to go for a motorcycle ride, but I was busy each time, plus I thought he would get the picture that I was not a convenience, but he didn’t. He started asking where I’ve been and why I’ve been scarce and I figured I would just spell it out for him. So I told him that every time he made plans, he broke them with no apologies and it wasn’t right for him to think that at the last minute I would jump to go riding with him, even though I do love riding. And then the craziest thing happened. He admitted that I was right. He even said it more than once. Not that I needed that validation because, to me, if I feel it, it is right in my mind, but it was refreshing to hear him say that I was making valid points and maybe that’s why he can’t keep a girlfriend and all that other stuff guys say when they are hoping to get some later. Anyway, I thanked him for the ride and went to work satisfied that I was right and a man finally admitted it. Like I said, I always think I’m right, but it’s rare that a guy says, you are absolutely right, that was all my fault. Not that it really matters because I’m not quite ready to give up on Derek just yet, although I am feeling pretty close. I know it’s sad. My coworker said I’m a runner. And maybe I am. I have never been in a relationship for more than two years. Three tops. I am not willing to say that they have all ended short because of me, but I guess if my arm was being twisted, I would admit that I did end the majority of them for one reason or another. One valid reason or another. And if this thing ends, it will be for a valid reason as well, but I am waiting it out and I’m not rushing in or out of anything. I actually don’t know what I’m doing at all. I’ve pretty much stopped thinking about it. And I’m just taking things at face value. I don’t even know how I feel at the moment. Well, I do know I feel tired. I’m mentally and physically tired and all the sun in the world is not currently helping me.

Maybe He Doesn’t Owe Me

As I was riding the bus earlier today, I was thinking about the blog I wrote the day before yesterday about Derek and how things have changed. I started thinking that maybe I don’t need to lower my expectations. Maybe I need to stop expecting anything at all. I thought,  I’ve never been a person who believes the world owes me anything so I’m not sure why I feel like he does. So I had planned on just taking things as they come, but then I was gently reminded….fuck that! Maybe the world doesn’t owe me anything. Maybe he doesn’t owe me anything, but if nothing else, I owe myself. I owe myself the opportunity to be loved the way I have loved others. I owe myself the chance for all the happiness I have given others. I owe myself peace of mind. I owe it to myself to stand up and speak up for what I want. It is quite possible that I am holding other people’s transgressions against him in a small way, but it’s not that I am being crazy like I originally thought, I am being cautious. If you had been bit by a dog a time or two and each time before it happened that dog growled, every time you were ever near a dog you would be wary and when that dog growled, it would be a strong indicator that things were about to go in the same direction they had before. All I’m trying to do is keep my distance from any more growling dogs because I’m tired of playing the fool. There’s a reason old sayings exist. People were smart back in the day. They weren’t foolish and naïve like we are expected to be today. When they say, “If it seems to good to be true, it usually is,” and “If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck….” Those sayings didn’t just appear out of nowhere. They came into existence for a reason. Just like my feelings and attitudes toward certain behaviors didn’t just appear out of nowhere. They also came into existence for a reason so I am slow to dismiss it based on a few people’s opinions that I can’t hold my past against him. I am not holding my past against him. I was holding his current actions against him.

All of my close friends and a couple of commenters are all pretty much on various sides of the argument and there aren’t just two, but despite everyone’s opinions that are thrown out into the universe, I know the decision is ultimately mine and what I am and am not willing to deal with. I did talk to him and tell him how I felt. He agreed that things had changed and it wasn’t my imagination. He said I made many valid points. And he didn’t want me feeling the way I do. He also reminded me, again, that he never claimed to be perfect and he was just a man, nothing extraordinary, but he has started trying harder again. The problem with it is that I am not sure it is because he wants to try harder or because I have somehow twisted his arm to get him to do it. At this point, I don’t really care the reason, I’m just happy that I have the guy back that I had in the beginning. We still haven’t had any talks of being exclusive so I think that is going to have to be included in the next conversation. Not that I am going to ask him if he wants to go steady or anything, but I do need clarity because if his answer is no, then I feel like I’m going to need him to not pop up at my house because that is how feelings get hurt. I haven’t seen anybody since I started seeing him, but if we are not exclusive then that will change and I will get back to dating around, not to be confused with sleeping around, but then again, who really knows? I do believe that communication is the key. I only wish I was a better verbal communicator and not such a stammering fool when it came to articulating my feelings and then getting them to come out of my mouth the way they were inside my head. Not to mention the uncomfortable giggle I get whenever I’m talking about something I’d rather not be, like the status of relationships.

But it basically boils down to this: I’ve dealt with a lot of bullshit since I started dating 25 years ago and what I am looking, searching, hoping for may not be everyone’s ideal. It may not even be logical or attainable, but I don’t give a shit. I want what I want and I deserve to get what I want and if I can’t find it or get it or have it, I will just continue to be alone. I don’t need someone to complete me because I am complete. I don’t need someone to entertain me because I can entertain myself. I don’t even need someone to love me because I can love myself just fine. But if someone wants to be in my life and wants me to share pieces of myself with them then, guess what? That shit is going to be on my terms because it is my time. I’m willing to give and bend and compromise but not to the extent of being the only one giving and bending until I break. Those days are over. So, yes, maybe I am demanding and maybe I won’t ever find what I feel like I deserve and if I don’t, that’s fine, but I will walk away before I find myself sitting in a position I’ve been in before. I will walk away before I go to sleep feeling that knowing pang of sickness in the pit of my stomach because someone is doing me wrong and I’d rather stay than be alone. That girl is dead. This girl will walk, happily, alone.