If I don't phone, text or email you, please know you're still in my mind & heart. Which is why I can't contact you. It would hurt too much. It might lessen in time, but, I don't know if it will ever completely go away. If you reach out to me (which I hope that you will), I may not answer or get back with you. Believe me, I want to, more than anything. I'm keeping all of the messages. Even if they seem to be deleted, I saved them elsewhere. Right now, I don't have my phone on much & I'm not checking my email. The phone would probably be the best place,though, when you want to get a hold of me.
It Begins With Me
To love thy self is to love without fear of what others may say.
Wear that outfit you feel makes you look a bit too fat.
That outfit that makes you look a bit too, sexy? Just wear it!
Why do I have to dress to make others feel comfortable instead of myself?
It is hot outside!
Why do I have to cover myself from head to toe because of my stretch marks?
Why do I have to hide my jiggly thighs?
Why do I have to hide my belly because it makes you uncomfortable?
The belly, which does not meet the world's terms of
What is the epitome of attractive?
If I don't love my curves, then I have allowed another win against me.
If I don't appreciate my body the way it is before I change, then I'm buying into the world's view on
Women who do not fit inside the outfits in the front of the store.
The outfits that look like flags and trash bags, yeah, those...
If I only allow those to be my options, I do not do myself justice.
I do not need to be thin to be beautiful.
I need to be human to be beautiful.
It is not like the grass is greener on the other side either.
Just because a woman is thin, doesn't mean her life is better either.
We do not know what she is fighting too.
It is not a war between the big girls and the skinny girls.
It is a war against materialism vs. realism.
Realistically, women define their beauty.
Every woman has her own size.
Every woman has her own style.
Every woman has her own beauty.
I am my beautiful.
If someone else can't accept my thickness, then it is on them.
I will not adjust myself to fit the terms someone else placed for me to be beautiful.
Walk on by, child.
I'm not for you.
I'm for someone who appreciates my beauty and never lets me forget
That which I define as my beauty.
I define my worth.
And baby, I'm worth it!
My jiggles are as vivacious as can be.
My skin, the color of milk chocolate.
My belly that bounces to the rhythm of the music I sway to.
And honey, do I sway and sway to the music that lifts my
I am the Johari, the precious gem that is like no other.
The bells that hug my hips as I shimmy my way across the floor,
Help me feel all of my femininity I forgot I had, which I was taught to be ashamed.
I am that lovely, magnificent being I longed to be.
I just never realized it and allowed myself to believe the lies
Others tried to tell me.
It begins with me.
So sh*t happened. The last time I left off, I believe I had quit my job at Panera and gotten a new job at a coffee shop...
I ended up quitting the coffee shop after six months. Reasons I quit: they promoted someone with very little food and beverage experience and has never worked with coffee before to assistant manager, they would talk about how they kept their pubic hair and other personal stuff (mind you I wouldn’t care if this was an office setting with no customers coming around or even having a girls’ night, but this is at a freaking drive-thru and there are times we forget to turn our mics off), then I'd be teased about how if I just had sex I wouldn’t be so uptight.
Good news is I got another job right away, a better pay and more hours job. And after 3 months, I got another job at another coffee shop, and shortly after I moved into my own place. I was only able to work both for seven months before the coffee place, knowingly, scheduled me during my not available time. But, better news, after two more months, I transferred departments as a “promotion”.
Which is when I met my a**hole boyfriend (he’s really a sweetheart, he’s just extremely blunt and sometimes acts spoiled, but he’s mine and I love him). Lol. I didn’t think he even noticed me, until he made a bet with someone about Ed Sheeran being gay. I had to get in on it, so I put my two sense in and was with the other guy’s side (that Ed is not gay). Needless to say, it came down to him against myself and two others and he owed us all energy drinks. After that he and I started talking more and then he started flirting with me. I mean, he was pushy as hell (still is sometimes). Which is really not something I’m used to. It took about a week and a half for him and everybody else to convince me, he liked me. Then I finally agreed to go on a double date with him and two mutual friends that were dating. Although, it ended up being that our first date was a double date with my parents....his pushy self wanted to meet them and asked when he would get to. Then the next day, I meet his parents.
We did go on that double date with our friends the follow week. We went to a place with arcade games as well as bowling, laser tag, and pool tables. To our surprise it had a bar in there as well.
After he and I had a drink and talked a bit, we went to join our friends for a few games of pool, then we went over and bowled. While we were bowling, one of our friends and I were joking back and forth and she made the comment “you know I love you.” He was sitting in between us and kind of muttered, “she’s not the only one.”
I blushed profusely and looked at him for a few seconds, then grabbed his beer and took a few drinks. My heart was racing, and my stomach did flips. We finished the game and left. When he and I got into his vehicle, I looked over at him and he was staring at me. I asked him what he was looking at. He didn’t answer, he just put his hand on the back of my neck and drew me closer to him, then he kissed me (this actually wasn’t our first kiss, our first kiss was when he walked me to my vehicle after work in the rain and when we got there, he wrapped his arms around me and waited until I looked up and kissed me). I felt on fire, this kiss turned into a make-out session. He ended it and said it was getting late and we needed to get back to my place (he was staying the night because it was late and he lives 45 minuets away). Well, I was feeling very turned on, and for some reason, it all felt right. I wasn’t having this internal emotional mess inside like I did with other boyfriends, it felt wrong with them, to the point where kissing was as far as I would go. But with him, it felt right and I wasn’t scared to be alone with him. I felt safe and comfortable (still do). So while we were on our way back to my place, I got kind of devilish and asked him how he was with distractions. He admitted he was fine with them, but he said I better not start something I won’t finish (he knew at the time about my being a virgin and was very respectful about it). So in a small voice, I said back, “what if I do?” He glanced over at me. He didn’t say anything until I leaned closer and put my hand on his leg and slide it up towards the middle of his pants, but stopped then took my hand away and said smiling, “But I may start something you can’t finish.”
He grinned and sped up telling me I was in trouble when we got back to my place.
But he was gentle with me. He sure took his time reducing me to an absolute mess and but was so gentle with me.
Now fast forward a week later, the girl friend that was there on the double date, was getting a group together to have a girls’ night in two days. My boyfriend was over and I was trying to decide 1) if I even wanted to go, and 2) what I was going to wear. So I have this very special, once on occasion, short, form-fitting, white dress. I wasn’t going to wear it out for the girls night, but I was going to tease him. I put it on and walked out into the living room. I barely got the words, “how about this one” out before he backed me up into my room, pushed me onto the bed and very slowly and tantalizingly reduced me to an “unable to think straight” mess. Then proceeded to say this dress was never to be worn out in public without him present.
Now fast forward three weeks later, I realized two things, I was getting sick everyday, and I missed my period by three days.
It wasn’t all that worrisome for me, considering I had just gotten over having a nasty stomach ulcer and ever since I got off the pill (because any birth control pill I took resulted in gallbladder complications) I would have irregular periods anyway. However, I humored myself and went to the store and bought a test anyway.... I was absolutely shocked that it came up positive, because we had been using condoms. I cried for a good three hours before I fell asleep on the couch. My boyfriend came over after his interview for another job, and woke me up. He asked if I was okay. I told him I wasn’t sure. So he asked if it was something he did. I assured him he didn’t do anything wrong... even though in my head I was saying that he did do something. I told him, “Recently, I’ve been getting sick quite a bit.”
His reply, “okay.”
“And, I’m three days late...”
“Oh, for the love of-” I got up grabbed the test and threw it at him.
He looked at it, then looked up at me, kind of smiled, put an arm around my waist and said, “We’re going to be okay.”
Of course I started crying again. And he just hugged me.
So it’s almost three months later and we’re still together. I’ve got my second OB appt soon. And he’s still happy about it. I’d be lying if I said I’m not happy. He and I are picking out names and disagreeing about some. So we decided that I pick the girl’s name and he picks the boy’s name and we’ll wait until we find out the gender.... unless, I’m having twins......then I might cry again. Lol
So, now you’re all caught up.
Founding Mothers. Think carefully as you select your answers for this next round of decisions. Our choices will further determine the scope of our Civil Rights, Economy, and Political Freedoms. @celeste teal @JadeBleu15 @Nidalaeh @moonbynight @blueberry @Sukeybaby @Apsalar15 @Mofgirl
As we are only allowed 3 questions per poll there will be more polls coming on shaping our nation.
When I received the news that my aunt passed away of dementia at an early age, I shut down. She was the mother that I never had, and I didn't know how to handle her passing unexpectedly early. That, on top of a concussion from ice hockey, I felt like I was both emotionally and physically losing my mind.
On my son's first day of camp last summer, I was simultaneously trying to not space out from my concussion and appear friendly to everyone who was seeing me. I was numb inside from the news of her death and in the early stages of grieving, but didn't want anyone seeing. Just like when I was a kid, I withheld emotion to appear as emotionally strong everyone knew I was.
As I lifted my other toddler up the stairs struggling, she came over and extended her arms to offer me help as she was walking down.
"I got you, don't worry," Y smiled at me. She always somehow knew when I was struggling; whether something was weighing on my mind or I was having trouble lifting two boys up the stairs having meltdowns.
I was always that odd mom out among the moms in my son's class. She was the opposite: everyone gravitated towards Y and she stood among the big group of moms making jokes and being much more at ease that I am in a big group. Sometimes she would glance over and smile at me. I felt my heart flutter. I had never felt this about another woman, but there was something about her. Maybe her familiarity? I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
A couple months earlier, we bonded over the fact that we were the only two moms in the class who were/are jocks. Y began talking about sports at the Mother's day party in the classroom. She asked the moms if they ever played any sports growing up. The room grew awkwardly silent until she looked at me and matter-of-factly told me she knew I did. I suppose there was no hiding it in my tomboy-ish clothing. I smiled and nodded as she smirked at me. A warmth filled my chest.
"You bitch. Fuck you. Just get over it already," my husband told me three days after my aunt passed away. I leaned forward and buried my face in my hands. I sobbed, and for the first time in my life, I hoped he would notice. I never felt comfortable crying in front of anyone, but this time I wanted him to know just how badly he hurt me.
He walked out and slammed the door. I was left to mourn my aunt's death all alone. I never talked about it with my family since we don't talk about these kind of things.
A week prior I had seen my aunt in the hospital. I knew it would be the last time I would see her. I sat there at her bedside and cried; hiding the tears swelling in my face. She had been through an abusive marriage when she was younger, took care of her 4 children all three years within each other, on her own with just a high school education. I wish I could have asked her how she did it and if she could give me the strength the get through it. She passed away just as I made the revelation that her life was very similar to mine.
The summer passed by in the blink of an eye while my husband and I were on better terms with him being home for the summer and not under the stress of teaching. This was a common cycle in our marriage after 9 years.
The last day of camp rolled around and when I saw Y walking out. I ran up to her and apologized about never following through with making summer plans. She kept asking me over and over if I wanted to take our kids to the pool together, but I just kept saying I would get back to her. I told her my aunt passed away and I spent the whole summer grieving her. She was very sympathetic and understanding. There was that feeling in my chest again. I walked out of there smiling for the first time that summer.
A woman looking at The Sleepers by Gustave Courbet - source unknown
The previous blog post in this series ended with a brief description of the The Sleepers which many feel is one of the most important LGBpaintings in history for the honest and sympathetic depiction of same-sex sexuality. This post reviews the artistic environment of works featuring women with women produced around the time that Courbet painted The Sleepers.
Women Bathing at the Brook - Ferdinand Georg Waldmuller (1848)
Many paintings were produced in the 17th to 19th century depicting a group of young women bathing together, usually naked, for the pleasure of male viewers. Often the bathers are shown in languid poses suggesting ready availability for the viewer(s) but here Waldmuller shows the women interested in something that has happened beyond the edge of the painting creating some mystery and tension.
Courage, Anxiety and Despair: Watching the Battle - James Sant (c.1850)
This painting by Sant is atypical of the vast majority of 19th century paintings of women, most of which show domestic scenes and lives lived mostly separately from the world of men and affairs of the world. Here Sant shows us a scene of battle that we don't often see - from a female point of view and how they are affected by and respond to organized male violence.
A Morning. The Dance of the Nymphs - Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot (1850-1851)
The title of this painting does not make specific reference to ancient mythology but the scene is reminiscent of many from the past which featured the nymphs of Diana or Venus celebrating life, womanhood and perhaps Bacchus. These more modern dancing women are clothed and could be seen as ballet dancers celebrating nature on a natural stage.
Promenade - Constant-Emile Troyon (c. 1850s)
The 19th century saw unprecedented improvements in living standards which allowed greater numbers of women to have leisure time to spend, usually with other women, on strolls in gardens, or parks, or sharing confidences and the joys of life as a woman in the industrializing West.
The Ball Gown - Jules Trayer (1860)
Along the Arno to the Cascine - Giuseppe Abbati (1862)
Bringing Home the May - Peach Robinson (1862)
This photograph is an example of the movement known as Pictorialsim which was dedicated to advancing photography as a legitimate form of imaginative fine art and not just a technology for static portraits. Pictorialists carefully planned their scenes using models, costumes and sometimes multiple exposures which were combined into a single composite image. Here Robinson creates a romantic and idealized representation of country life.
First Born - Gustave-Leonard de Jonghe (1863)
Red Shirts Staplers - Odoardo Borrani (1863)
Elegant Women on the Beach - Eugene Louis Boudin (1863)
Buying Fruit and Vegetables at the Night Market - Petrus Van Schendel (1863)
Listening to the News of the Day - Gerolamo Induno (1864)
Restful Afternoon - Charles Hue (c.1864)
A Walk - Silvestro Lega (1864)
Two Women in a Clearing - Louis Dericks (1864)
Two Women in the Garden of Castiglioncello - Giovanni Fattori (1864-5)
Spring - Jacques James Tissot (1865)
Livorno Waterholes - Giovanni Fattori (1865)
Some artists chose to depict women together in rural peasant scenes as a more honest and real representation of most womens' lives.
Forbidden Fruit - Auguste Toulmouche (1865)
The rising standards of living included the growth of book publishing and reading and many paintings depict women engaged with books. Sate sponsored secular education of girls and women emerged in the West in the middle of 19th century.
Women Dancing in a Brothel - Constantin Guys (c.1865)
Guys was one of the Realist artists in Paris who traveled the streets and painted what he saw. Here he shows us the social life of women with other women inside a brothel.
Women in the Garden - Claude Monet (1866)
The Impressionists were a group of artists that succeeded the Realists in France as an important counter-cultural artistic community. Like the Realists they were dedicated to painting everyday life but pioneered painting plein-air (outdoors) using palettes of bright, vibrant colours.
The Visit to the Artist's Sudio - Louis Marie Joseph Ridel (1866)
Painting as a profession was dominated by males in the 19th century as it had been for centuries but it became both increasingly acceptable for women to become painters and achievable with prosperous families financially supporting their daughters aspirations.
In Sun - Vincenzo Cabianca (1866)
The Secret - Jules Salles-Wagner (c.1866)
The Reluctant Bride - Auguste Toulmouche (1866)
Summer Days - Julia Margaret Cameron (1866)
The new technology of photography attracted many artistic talents to explore the potential of the medium. Julia Margaret Cameron (1815-1879) emerged as one of the finest portraitists of the nineteenth century - in any medium. She took up photography in her late forties and produced over a thousand images over 14 years.
Promenade - Paul Cézanne (1866)
Cézanne, one of the Impressionists, shows us via the arrangement of the figures, the reality of relations between the sexes in the 19th century. The men are standing indicating their greater status and are engaged in discussing important matters of the day while their wives are parked on a bench waiting silently for the men to conclude their conversation.
Minerva and the Graces - Marc-Charles-Gabriel Gleyre (1866)
Apricots - Albert Joseph Moore (1866)
The Hermitage at Pontoise - Camille Pissarro (1867)
Pissarro was one of the pioneers of Impressionism and he painted outdoors in rural France for most of his life. Here he completes a scene of tranquil serenity with a genial meeting on the road of two women, one a young mother.
Blind Man's Bluff - Charles Baugniet (c.1867)
The Confidence - James Tissot (1867)
Six Bathers - Adolphe-Joseph Thomas Monticelli (c.1867)
After the Manner of the Elgin Marbles - Julia Margaret Cameron (1867)
The Drawing Lesson - Charles Baugniet (c.1867)
An Interior with Japanese Objects - Juan Leon Palliere (c.1867)
Collecting Water - Edward John Cobbett (c.1867)
Confidences - Jules Adolphe Goupil (1867)
Spring's New Arrivals - Charles Baugniet (c.1867)
The Visit - Alfred Emile Leopold Stevens (c.1867)
The Love Letter - Gustave Léonard de Jonghe (1867)
A Shared Moment - Cesare Felix Georges Dell'Acqua (1868)
Young Women of Sparta - Jean-Baptiste Camille Corot (c.1868)
The musician in the foreground appears bored, perhaps melancholic since her talents aren't appreciated by the women in the background, who are practicing their hand-to-hand combat skills as warriors for militaristic Sparta.
The Weeders - Jules Breton (1868)
Quartet of Musicians - Albert Joseph Moore (1868)
Moore creates visual tension here by his arrangement of the figures. The standing women and sitting men is a flip of what one would expect within a patriarchy and the close embrace of the two women suggests a romantic connection.
Allegory of Lust for Life - Hans Makart (1868)
Spring Scene - Anselm Feuerbach (1868)
The Bath - Marc Charles Gabriel Gleyre (1868)
The Eavesdropper - Carl Heinrich Hoff (1868)
Confidences - Cristiano Banti (1868)
Women's Art Class - Louis Lang (c.1868)
Elegant Ladies at the Baths - Raffaello Sorbi (1868)
The Visit - Alfred Émile Léopold Stevens (c.1869)
A Visit to the Haunted Chamber - William Frederick Yeames (1869)
Ladies Playing Billiards - Charles Edouard Boutibonne (1869)
The Diary - Auguste Toulmouche (c.1869)
Young Ladies Looking at Japanese Objects - James Tissot (1869)
Two Seated Women - Mary Cassatt (1869)
The Impressionists considered themselves socially progressive and deliberately included both men and women among their ranks; Cassatt and another woman Berthe Morisot were prominent members. Despite being accepted as an artist of equal merit she was limited by the range of subjects she could paint as she was not able to move as freely around Paris and rural France as her male colleagues could.
At the Opera - Charles Edouard Boutibonne (1869)
The Hay Field - Thomas Armstrong (1869)
The Daydreams - Auguste Toulmouche (c.1869)
Young Women Looking at Japanese Objects - James Tissot (c.1869-1870)
A Surprising Visit - Otto Wilhelm Eduard Erdmann (1870)
Rural Landscape - Ernesto Rayper (1870)
A Beach Stroll - Frederik Hendrik Kaemmerer (1870)
Bathers - Paul Cézanne (1870)
Cézanne appears to be anticipating future artistic movements with this painting, which is more about shapes and colours than it is about the portrayal of soft, voluptuous bodies of women. These figures look cold, and perhaps uncomfortable, after their swim in the dark of night.
A tintype from 1870. A stand was often used for the subjects to lean against to prevent movement which would result in image blurring.
Glance Exchanged - Frederik Henrdik Kaemmerer (c.1870)
The arrangement of the seated men and women suggests that the exchanged glance is between two women, perhaps a moment of attraction and/or flirtation.
Back From the Dance - Giuseppe de Nittis (1870)
The Washerwomen of the Breton Coast - Jules Breton (1870)
Fannie (née Heriot), Lady Wentworth; possibly Maria Colclough Turner (née Heriot, later Blyth) - W. & D. Downey (1870)
The Visit - Albert Roosenboom (c.1870)
The Love Letter - Petrus van Schendel (1870)
By the Well - Jozsef Molnar (c.1870)
La Toilette - Frédéric Bazille (1870)
This painting belongs to a genre that reflects the Wests' fascination with the Orient/Middle East and depicts a scene within a harem. The intended audience were males, who enjoy the nudity and the subtext of lesbian sexuality. There were a great number of harem related works produced in the 19th century but I've chosen to include only a few of them in this series of blog posts.
The next post will continue with works produced during the 1870s.
1. Anarchic: Exceedingly high personal, economic, and political freedom
Anarchism is the idea that government the state is unnecessary and harmful. Anarchy is society without government. Anarchists are people who believe in anarchism and desire to live in anarchy as all our ancestors once did.
2. Libertarian: High personal, economic, and political freedom
Libertarianism is a collection of political philosophies and movements that uphold liberty as a core principle. Libertarians seek to maximize political freedom and autonomy, emphasizing freedom of choice, voluntary association and individual judgment.
3. Capitalist: Good personal, high economic, and good political freedom
Capitalism is an economic system based upon private ownership of the means of production and their operation for profit. Characteristics central to capitalism include private property, capital accumulation, wage labor, voluntary exchange, a price system, and competitive markets.
4. Liberal: Good personal, low economic, and moderate political freedom
Liberalism, political doctrine that takes protecting and enhancing the freedom of the individual to be the central problem of politics. Liberals typically believe that government is necessary to protect individuals from being harmed by others, but they also recognize that government itself can pose a threat to liberty.
5. Centrist: Moderate personal, economic, and political freedom
Centrism or the center is a political outlook or specific position that involves acceptance or support of a balance of a degree of social equality and a degree of social hierarchy; while opposing political changes which would result in a significant shift of society either strongly to the left or the right.
6. Conservative: Low personal, good economic, and moderate political freedom
Conservatism is a political and social philosophy promoting traditional social institutions in the context of culture and civilization. Conservatives generally believe in personal responsibility for welfare, limited government, free markets, individual liberty, traditional values and a strong national defense.
7. Socialist: Good personal, low economic, and low political freedom
Socialism is an economic system where the ways of making money (factories, offices, etc.) are owned by a society as a whole, meaning the value made belongs to everyone in that society, instead of a group of private owners. Workers vote to make business decisions. Its economy is state run and it lacks a stock exchange. Healthcare and education are all completely managed and administered by the government.
8. Authoritarian: Low personal, economic, and political freedom
Authoritarianism is a form of government characterized by strong central power and limited political freedoms. Individual freedoms are subordinate to the state and there is no constitutional accountability under an authoritarian regime.
9. Tyrannical: No personal, economic, or political freedom
A tyrannical rule wields absolute power and authority over the people. Civil rights and political freedoms are nonexistent.
At 4 pm PST on Wednesday, the clock struck midnight in London on Thursday, May 31st, 2018, starting the many sweet shenanigans of my girlfriend's 24th birthday.
Just before it hit 4 pm, I stepped out of the office to record myself singing happy birthday. Understand that I do not just sing for people. I will sing along to songs in the car, and i will sing in the shower, and I will sing random tunes that pop in my head throughout the day, but I never sing FOR someone. Since I've known her, I've sang for her on a couple occasions (to cheer her up, make her smile, or just because I was so happy I had to). At 4, I sent the recording, along with a bunch of dorky birthday gifs and a picture of myself with a bunch of birthday stickers on it.
When I got off of work, I headed to Vons to pick up ingredients to make curry and a slice of cake. I managed to get candles that spell out "Happy Birthday" as well. We planned to have a movie + dinner date over video call (which we've done many times now). This time, we were to dress all fancy.
When I got home, I started up some of the food to cook while I headed to shower. We started up the video chat while we cooked and talked about our day. I didn't have the best end of day at work, but she comforted me as she always does.
Once dinner was ready, we parted to get dressed. She asked me to pick out her dress. I picked a black dress with pink and violet flowers that I could match my bow tie to. I wore my black suit with a pink bow tie. Once we were both all dressed, we stood in front of the camera. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. We dished out our dinner. I poured some cranberry juice into a wine glass (I quit drinking this year).
We sat down to start our movie, which we sync up by doing a special countdown. I was to say the countdown this time, but every time I was about to start, I found myself lost in her, just swooning. She was so smiley and so happy. Gawd, I love seeing her happy. I must have said "alright" like I was going to start the countdown a dozen times before she asked if she was going to have to count how many times I said alright. I said "alright" one more time and then did the countdown, and we started our movie. We watched Lilo & Stitch, her most favorite movie (and one of my favorites). As usual, I think I watched her more than I watched the movie. I'd caught her watching me in the moments that I looked away, too.
When the movie ended, I told her I'd be right back, as if I was taking a bathroom break. I rushed to the kitchen, pulled out my little slice of German chocolate cake, arranged the candles (in 3 rows of "HAPPY", "BIRTH", and "DAY"), lit the candles, and walked back into the bedroom. She was looking away from her phone when I came in, so, I said "Hey babygirl" and she looked up. She smiled so so brightly and then covered her face, blushing. I love when she smiles. Her eyes smile so much before the rest of her face does. I can't help but smile whenever she smiles.
I told her she had to blow out her candles and to do it quickly because they were melting all over her cake. She said I'd have to help her and I assured her she could do it. (Some days we go for video chat walks when the sun is out for the both of us. Whenever she finds a dandelion she'll hold it up to the phone and tell me to make a wish and blow it out. Apparently, I'm very bad at blowing them out. Hehe. Eventually I get it all.)
She counted to 3 and blew out her candles. She said "thank you" so many times and that it was the best birthday and that her cheeks were hurting so much. Of course, it wasn't over yet. I told her I wasn't about to help with her cheek problem, as I showed her a little ladybug shaped ring box. Ladybugs have been pretty significant in our relationship.
She loved the box and commented on how cute it is. I opened it, showing her the ring inside. A hear-shaped promise ring with 2 little pink sapphires. She covered her face and said she loves me so much, tons more thank you's, and how special I made her birthday.
And of course, it still wasn't over yet. I had an idea to take a bunch of pictures to photoshop together in special ways. I sent her some pictures of me on one knee, me kissing the air, and a few other poses that she could mimic or pose to fill in. I'll be working on those this weekend, but I did start one, and it was looking so great I had to show her. More smiles, more "aww's", more thank you's.
And STILL it was not over. I kept joking about doing a strip show for her. We haven't gotten that far yet (waiting until we meet in person to share that sort of intimacy), but it makes her blush every time I bring it up. I love teasing her. She usually teases the crap out of me because I'm so weak when it comes to her. She's my kryptonite 100%.
Finally, bed time (she mostly follows my schedule since she makes her own work hours). I had a doc apt. in the morning, but I called her afterwards, before I headed in for work. The package I had ordered to arrive on her birthday had gotten there just before we woke up this morning. She started opening it, blushing so much. Once she did, she fell over in happiness (she was sitting on her bed). A dozen roses. "There's so many!" She smiled so much. She loves roses.
She really loves flowers. When we go for walks, she brings her camera (a really nice, fancy camera) to take pictures of animals and flowers and airplanes and the moon and anything else really. Whenever she's out and she see's flowers she always sends me pictures of them, too, and I do the same. So I finally sent her real flowers. And her favorite, roses.
I love her so much. We may be apart, but I'll always do my best to show her my love and help her feel my presence.
Wow, that was much longer than I thought it was going to be. Thank you for reading to anyone that makes it through the whole thing. Hehe. I hope you enjoyed it.
There is a new Amazon Prime mini-series coming out this week which is a remake based on the novel of the same name by Joan Lindsay:
There was a movie version of the book released in 1975 by Peter Weir which I watched recently and quite enjoyed. It's mysterious, thought provoking and frustrating all at the same time. The story revolves around the young women at a boarding school in Australia at the turn of the 20th century who go on a day long picnic outing.The atmosphere during the first part of the movie is quite dreamy and lush with romantic suggestions and connections between the girls.
The new mini-series stars Natalie Dormer (Game of Thrones) as the head-mistress of the boarding school.
I was told that someone very close to me commented that my relationship with my gf is just a phase. They've said that before about my past relationship with a girl. It really hurt my heart a lot that they still believe, 10 years later, that my attraction to females could be anything, but real.
This person has known me my entire life, and, unless they are in complete denial of who I am, maybe they don't know me as well as I thought they did. I thought to confront them about their feelings, not specifically mentioning that someone else told me anything about it (in case they misheard or misunderstood or anything like that). I wanted their honest thoughts without potential influence.
I decided, instead, that I would just thank them for loving and accepting me as I am, and hope that, in time, they'll see that this isn't a phase, that it is real, and that this is who I am. My previous relationship with a girl didn't last long and was followed by 10 years of dating guys. Here's to hoping this one lasts to the end of my days, as I always do.
As far as I know, the truth is that I am thankful for this person loving and accepting me, and I don't need to confront any negativity that may or may not be true. This person hasn't shown me any negativity themselves about any of it, and if they feel some way about it, they'll tell me when they need to, or they'll learn and grow and accept the truth before it ever becomes a real, in-my-face issue.
Time for me to leave here.Since I joined the site helped me a lot. I had some good times, good laughs and some bad times.I had sleepless nights, sometimes for staying up late discovering someone, sometimes because I couldn't keep the sadness of not understanding behaviors. I discovered more about myself and I've made few friends. Not many. Very few decided that I am worth it and sticked around. I regret nothing!!And I am thankful for the few that gave me chances and for all that didn't.
But the site has nothing to offer me anymore and I certainly have nothing to offer either. Maybe some day I'll feel like I can offer again.Until then αντίο και ίσως τα ξαναπούμε
I know I'm a little late to the party but I just watched Insidious: The Last Key and felt the need to talk about horror.
Blumhouse Productions has a successful formula when it comes to crafting great horror. Keep the budget low and give the director full creative freedom. Blumhouse isn't the only production studio making frighteningly awesome and low budget content. New Line Cinema is also tapping the micro-budget business model.The two production houses are responsible for some of the most popular horror series in the last 10 years, including Paranormal Activity, The Conjuring, Insidious, Purge, Get Out and many more. The same directors return to these production houses to make sequels, encouraging continuity of vision, and repeat business with the hottest names in horror. A change from the days of a bunch of different directors and producers creating a hot mess out of a good idea. Jaws, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Friday 13th, Halloween, need I go on?
Some of my favourite modern horror movie directors are James Wan, Oren Peli, Adam Robitel, Jennifer Kent, and Leigh Whannell.
I'd love to hear your thoughts if you're a horror movie fan. Whose work do you like? Who's your favourite Scream Queen? Which elements of horror creep you out the most? Do you have a favourite movie?
For me I'm not really into slasher or gore. I prefer a good, suspenseful, spine tingling, jump out of your skin when you least expect it kind of movie.
THREE RECS FOR A SPOOKY MOVIE NIGHT:
Ringu directed by Hideo Nakata (Japanese)
When her niece is found dead along with three friends after viewing a supposedly cursed videotape, reporter Reiko Asakawa sets out to investigate.
The Babadook directed by Jennifer Kent (Australian)
A single mother, plagued by the violent death of her husband, battles with her son's fear of a monster lurking in the house.
The Taking of Deborah Logan directed by Adam Robitel (American)
Mia records the daily lives of dementia patient Deborah and her daughter Sarah as part of her thesis. As the days progress it becomes apparent something has taken control of Deb.
There is a whole truth that "sex" topics in the site has proliferated recently. Some of the dead threads have come back to life and believe it or not it's because there are always a number of people who are interested to know and seek a legitimate answer. Yes, some are very explicit in details. Yes, some people have no reservations about telling a piece of their private lives in a public forum. SO, BLOODY WHAT? A lot of women here WILL NOT EVER DARE to talk about what’s in their mind with their friends, with their husbands, with their siblings, or with anyone...because they can’t for the fear of being misunderstood, shame, prejudice, societal differences, personal biases and surrounded by bloody holier-than-thou people around them. This site is created to be a safe haven for everyone.
When I joined the site last year, it was full of “meaningful” discussions everywhere. What is meaningful for me may not be meaningful for others. What is meaningful for me? Anything that I can relate to because it serves certain purpose to me, or piqued my interest or passion, or something I perceived as valid in my life. Since joining, I have learned a lot about my sexuality, life itself, sex and other hardcore (as interpreted by my innocent thinking mind) stuff. I’ve been actively visiting the site and like many things in the world, the conversations in an online forum like Shybi has its ebb and flow. This pattern is dependent on many factors: how many members are in a problematic or particular situations that post to seek advice, number of postings created by members who are searching for answers or advice; and the high influence of the subsequent responses of the members to the post that makes it more relevant and interesting. In my observation since last year, many members who were actively contributing to the forums (seeking advice and/or giving advice) had ceased to be around for some reasons and I do believe that it’s due to life priorities. Other members, however, are just happy to look around quietly here. For whatever reason, sometimes,they decide to pop their thinking head out of their cave and join the conversation. That is fine.
I could go on and go on but I’m tired now and I have to work tomorrow. So, I will rest my case here.
Something to ponder...
“We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation. It's one thing to feel that you are on the right path, but it's another to think that yours is the only path.” -- Paulo Coelho
It became a lesbian paradise, thanks to the pioneering women who descended upon St. Augustine, Florida in the 1970's to live together in seaside cottages. They found one another in a feverish era of gay rights and women's liberation. Together they built a matriarchal community, where no men were permitted. For decades they have been dedicated to inspiring and motivating other women to live their ideal lives free of fear.
Wouldn't it be great if there were more female only towns and villages? Imagine being able to go to a place filled with women who want to be with other women, no need for second guessing, no wondering if she's straight, no sidestepping men. A beautiful, magical, lady playground, where women can feel safe together. Imagine being able use your favourite running track, or stumble home drunk off your ass, or use a public bathroom by yourself, at any hour of the day or night, without fear of perverts and rapists lurking in the shadows.
Imagine a town where the sound of mansplaining can't be heard, where man-flu doesn't exist, where contraception isn't necessary. A town where the only pearl necklace you're going to get is a real one. A town with public bathrooms and tampon vending machines everywhere. What about dick you ask? If you're in the mood for some dick, you and your girls can ride over to straight man town, where women are obviously always welcome, and find yourself a hot beef injection. Just remember to use a rubber, and take an iodine bath before you return to lady town.
When I win a huge lottery I'm taking over a ghost town and rebuilding it. Who's with me? Anyone else want to contribute to lady town? Share your ideas below.
3 Ways to Roast Mixed Vegetables
If you'd like to make a mixed-vegetable side dish, you have three options.
Roast vegetables individually: First, and easiest, you can roast the individual vegetables on separate trays and combine them after roasting. This lets you monitor how quickly each vegetable is cooking and pull each vegetable from the oven as it's done.
Pair "vegetable friends": Second, you can pair together "vegetable friends" — ones that roast at roughly the same rate. For instance, you could roast cauliflower and broccoli together, or butternut squash with potatoes. Combine these on the same baking sheet and roast them together. If the baking sheet is getting crowded, split them between two sheets.
Roast in stages: Third, you can add different vegetables to the baking sheet in stages — start roasting the hardest, longest-cooking vegetables first, and then add softer, quicker-cooking vegetables later on. If the baking sheet starts to get full, split the vegetables between two pans so you don't crowd the them. Aim to have all the vegetables finish roasting around the same time, and remember: A little extra roasting time is unlikely to hurt.
General Roasting Times for Vegetables
Cooking times are for roasting vegetables at 425°F.
Root vegetables (beets, potatoes, carrots): 30 to 45 minutes, depending on how small you cut them
Winter squash (butternut squash, acorn squash): 20 to 60 minutes, depending on how small you cut them
Crucifers (broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts): 15 to 25 minutes
Soft vegetables (zucchini, summer squash, bell peppers): 10 to 20 minutes
Thin vegetables (asparagus, green beans): 10 to 20 minutes
Onions: 30 to 45 minutes, depending on how crispy you like them
Tomatoes: 15 to 20 minutes
I wish that some people could understand what it's like to be an introvert. Then maybe, just maybe, when I have a hard time wanting to go out anywhere, they will know the things they are saying is making things 10 times worse. I do NOT need to be told I'm irrational in my thinking, or I'm going to miss out on a good time. Don't you think I know I'm going to miss out on life and experiences? I don't need those comments. Or being told I'm a boring and un-fun person who likes to do nothing. My "nothing" is what grounds me. I need my nothing or I will go crazy. So please, just stop.
CW: sexual assault, abuse
Hey there Shy’s. Perhaps you’ve noticed I’ve been away lately, perhaps the thought never crossed your mind. In truth it hasn’t been all that long since I was last posting regularly, maybe a month or so. Objectively that’s not very long, but it feels like a lot considering that for a while I was logging on multiple times a day. I’d like to say I was just busy, and that would be partially true, but it’s not the whole story. I’ve been avoiding the site because I know it’s a place where we are open and vulnerable to each other and I haven’t been ready for that. Frankly I’m just starting to emerge from the mental equivalent of fetal position.
I made a post in March titled “Does Your Primary Limit You?” in which I described the experience of being dumped by my secondary partner because they disliked my primary partner. Things went downhill rather quickly after that. I took stock of my relationship with him and decided that things couldn’t continue as they were. He initially seemed to agree, looking into the logistics of getting his own place once our lease ran out in January. However in retrospect it seems that he was bluffing, hoping the prospect of him actually leaving would make me change my mind. Instead in only convinced me that I had made the right decision.
I know now why it’s said that the most dangerous stage of an abusive relationship is leaving. As I began to assert my independence and embrace the prospect of being single, he became increasingly aggressive towards me. This came to a head on St. Patrick’s Day. My back was sore, so I asked him to help me into the bath. He agreed, being very solicitous and bringing me Epsom salts. He then started taking off his own clothes and got in the bath. I thought that was a little odd, but didn’t object. He stated an interest in taking a bath separately after I got out. Consequently I was surprised when he followed me into the bedroom as I went to get dressed, or should I say tried to get dressed. He leaned over and lay on top of me as I tried to put my panties on. At first it seemed playful, and I just asked him to get off so I could get ready for choir rehearsal. Unlike other times, he didn’t budge. He asked to do more and more, eventually demanding that I have sex with him before I left. I declined four times, but he still wasn’t getting off of me. At this point I was running half an hour late for my rehearsal so I told him to just get it over with. He entered me immediately without even pausing to put on a condom. After a few minutes it was over. Oddly, he was the one who cried afterwards rather than me.
On the way to rehearsal I felt hollow inside. I wasn’t ready to call it what it was, but I still had a distinct sense that what had happened crossed a line. Once singing, I sang “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair” with an unusual degree of enthusiasm. Afterwards I was scheduled to audition as part of an octet to perform the song “Quiet”, composed for the 2017 Women’s March. Singing the opening lines “Put on your face/Know your place/Shut up and smile/Don’t spread your legs” I almost broke down crying. Still, I wasn’t ready to explain to my fellow singers why I had been late, and stuck with the half truth that I had missed my train.
Afterwards I went to an Irish pub nearby, as I had originally intended to do, but with a very different mindset. I grabbed as much Guiness as was put in front of me. At this point I began getting a string of passive aggressive text messages from my boyfriend asking where he was and if he could join. I responded that I would prefer not to see him but wouldn’t tell him not to come to a public place. This led to him berating me for not giving a straight answer and insisting that I state my preferences more clearly (fat lot of good that did me when I actually tried it.) We eventually agreed to the “compromise” of meeting at a nearby bookstore. While he traveled over my phone died and my primary concern was that I wouldn’t be able to contact him; the psychology of abusive relationships can be strange like that.
After hanging out at the bookstore, we went home and attempted to have a Serious Talk. He asked why I was still angry about what had happened that morning, since he had apologized a whopping three times. He also pointed out that he had forgiven me when I supposedly cheated on him by being naked with someone else he knew I was dating. Having not clearly established a rule against this, I didn’t view it as infidelity, but that is a discussion for another time (if ever.) In that moment I realized how much he had been holding a grudge over that incident. After I officially declared my intention to end things with him because of what he did, he exhorted me not to cope by hopping into bed with strangers “like you usually do” – despite the fact that I have never had casual sex in my life and have had only one additional sexual partner besides him. I mention this context not to slut shame, but to highlight that only a person with a highly distorted view of my sexual behavior and beliefs would make such a statement.
The next day I called my best friend and said I had something to talk about. I considered trying to beat around the bush but eventually elected to just spit it out – “I think I got raped yesterday.” She listened to me and confirmed that what I had experienced was textbook sexual assault. At this point we had already been planning a visit in honor of her birthday, but agreed that it would be a good idea to bump it up a week so she could give me moral support. Once I finally said the words, my feelings became very clear and I told my now ex-boyfriend he needed to move out ASAP.
The process of moving him out was a saga unto itself, so I think I will end the post here and add an explanation of that later on. Thank you all for your wise advice on these matters, both directly to me and in general. Particular thanks to N00Bi for helping me talk through what happened and encouraging me to maintain strong boundaries and prioritize my own emotional health. It would be lying to say I feel ok at this point, but I have a lot of support and I am healing. I’m optimistic that I will get through this.
Well since realizing i do have a crush on her, it is becoming apparent that i have a type. She is blonde and tall and i find myself staring at her chest...or i did when i was in her room and we would do circle time with the kids and omg... She is also very calming and she was a good teacher as i learned a lot from her and now i try not to make it so obvious when she is around...
Im not sure when i realized i was crushing on her and to tell her would not be a good thing as she has a boyfriend and it would make it awkward if i were to sub for her again..
I had thought of texting her, but im not sure because i hadn't really talked to her in awhile and i don't know if it would be a weird thing to do or not...
Soo the other day, i realized that i was crushing on someone i used to work with and when i saw her the other day, and heard she had her boyfriend helping with her kids, I realized I was jealous of her boyfriend and also that meant i had a underlying crush..
Not so obvious signs-
1. When she was around I got really nervous and couldn't do the songs We were singing with the kids.
2. I found myself not really talking to her- even though i didnt a lot when i worked with her and now i am realizing why... I didn't want to get caught staring and start rambling, so a lot of the time i didn't say much...
3. When she was around I got busy doing stuff so she wouldn't think i was staring and i didn't want to mess up when she was around..
4. Finally, i hadn't seen her since October and the first time she saw me she gave me a hug and i could smell her and feel her wet hair brush up against my cheek... Right then it was the bright spot of the morning and i couldn't stop thinking about her all day...
Well seems like we spent all that time waiting to be together and then once we were together it was gone too quickly. We never seem to have enough time, but the good news is that she'll be back this summer and then I'll get to go and see her for her birthday in October so three times in a year of seeing each other I can't complain.
We have had an amazing time together and we reconnected again once we were alone in the hotel room. We didn't take things very slowly because it had been so long since we were last together. I can say this with confidence that we both have great chemistry on all levels, not just sexually.
We went to an ice hockey game and had an amazing time there, then when we got back into town we went and did our usual shooting pool. It was the second time we'd been there since she arrived and she loves to rub it in when she beats me at my game. It's usually pretty close when we play and we like to drink a few beers so that adds to the entertainment factor, especially when we both start feeling tipsy.
We also went and ate at her favorite place with my daughter and her boyfriend. It just happened to be taco Tuesday and Margarita night. I only had 2 Margaritas and I was done so my middle daughter ended up driving us home.
I have a lot more I could say about this visit and I probably will in another blog, but for now I need to go and rest and mope around my house as it feels so empty without her here. (sad face). I took her to the airport today and we've been on skype once again back to the flat screen boo hoo while she's being held up in a layover at Atlanta then she'll fly out and I won't see her again until she's at her connection airport before she flies home. So yeah I'm sad.
Thanks for reading and I will add more later when I'm rested and not mopey. Okay so I can add more to this now that it's been a few days and she's home. It just seems like the time we are together goes by way too fast, probably because I had to spend some of it working and couldn't take much time off. The weather was crappy except for the last full day she'd have here then it decided to be nice and sunny. Hopefully when she returns in the summer with her daughter, she'll be able to return home with a nice tan.
I am not in a hurry to see my youngest graduate high school because she's the one I will miss the most when I move. I'll miss all of my kids when I move, but hopefully they'll figure out a way to come and visit me and then they'll see why I wanted to move. As I've said in my previous blogs, I think that it's much harder on netty than me because she's a more touchy feely person and loves to have her hands on me all the time. We even like to go to sleep together holding hands sometimes and I can say this, I never was that intimate with my two ex-husbands and never went to sleep holding their hands. So yes, being in a loving relationship with a woman is much more intimate and definitely deeper on all levels.
I have no idea what kind of a job I'll get when I get over there, but I'm sure I'll be able to find something and hopefully we'll be married before I move. It's going to be quite a change for both her and I because she's used to having things a certain way and so am I, but her daughter is younger than mine so that is why I'm choosing to move over to be with her. Both her and I are anxious and just want to get our lives together started, but I look at it this way, we've been spending time getting to know each other over the last three years and we already know how it feels to be together and do things together, so when we do actually get to be together we will have already gone through stuff and will look forward to going through new stuff together. I also know that relationships take work and good communication and you have to be willing to do both if you want to have a lasting relationship because the minute you stop talking or communicating, that's when you will begin to have problems. So once again I have a countdown on my phone for July, and she'll be here with her daughter so that we can all go and see the fireworks together. Guess that's about all for now, until my next entry and thanks for reading.
In just a few short days the love of my life, netballer1973, will be here once again to spend ten wonderful days together. I've gotta tell ya it's been a very hard eight months because each time she visits our connection grows deeper and the desire grows stronger. Without having a hope of being together soon, there's no way either one of us could've lasted this long.
This year I will once again get to go and visit her for ten days over there and that's going to be hard when it comes time for me to leave because it'll be even closer to the time I'll be able to fly there and not have to come home. When I go to see her in October, my youngest will be in her last year of high school. It's a bittersweet time for me because she's the last of my three children to graduate high school. Originally I had planned to move over to be with netty as soon as my daughter graduated high school, but I think I will probably wait until later to make the move, and hopefully netty and I will be able to get married before I move over.
So back on track here, yes eight months is a long time and we will have a lot of making up for lost time to do once we check into the hotel. I have so missed kissing and embracing and holding each other. The longer we're together the deeper my love for her grows. We've been together now over 3 years and she's been here to see me more times than I can count. When she comes alone of course our time together is much different than when she comes with her daughter, but each time she brings her daughter I feel like we connect better and gel better together. A blended family is tough and I know it's hard for netty to be away from her daughter, but both her and I know that she needs to have that time free from that responsibility for a little while so she can enjoy our relationship and what we have.
The obvious that goes without going into too much detail is that we are both also looking forward to being able to make mad passionate love to each other and show each other just how much we do love each other. I can also say that reading all the books her and I have been reading hasn't helped in the distance department, but we both agree that when we're reading those books, we're thinking about each other and getting ideas, lol.
I guess the reason why it isn't as hard on me as it is on her is because she craves the physical touch to just be able to hold me and touch me, not that I don't, but I don't think about it as much. We both have to bury some of our feelings so that we don't get too emotional and lose it over the fact that we can't be together all the time because of our current circumstances. It will be a little bit easier this year because shortly after she comes to see me next week, she'll be back with her daughter this summer, and then I'll get to fly over to see her in the fall, so more frequent this year. I can't wait to get back over there to visit her again because I love being there and there's so much to see and to enjoy. When I went over there the first time she took me to pick strawberries and what she didn't realize was that it reminded me of a place I went with my parents when I was young. I had so much fun that day with her and I thought how great it is going to be when I live there and we can go and do those kinds of things all the time. I'll have to find a job and she has her job, but I have no doubts that we will feel so much better once we're able to be together.
Don't get me wrong I know it won't always be easy and we'll probably have a few disagreements along the way because relationships take work. Period. Some relationships are harder than others, but the main thing is that you give of yourself to the other person and they give to you. I'm sure we'll both want our way when it comes to certain things, but we'll work through it like everything else. It is going to be a big life change for me as I've only lived in America all my life and only lived in Florida, which is a tropical warm state most of the year and very very hot in the summer time. Will I miss it? Yes I will, however I love the country, the mountains, the hills, and the ocean and I will be quite content to live over there because I can go just about anywhere and see those things, including cool rivers and streams. I will have to get used to the cold, but as long as netty and I can snuggle up together on the couch then what else could I possibly want? I'm also looking forward to being with the animals because I miss not having pets of my own. Hopefully I'll be able to own a horse again because I miss that connection that I shared with the horse that I had and netty's daughter will be able to have a horse to care for and learn about the responsibility of what it means to care for someone else besides yourself. I could go on and on but I think you get the gist of this blog.
Woo hoo only five more sleeps and she'll be in my arms once again and her lips will be on my lips and her body will be in our bed at our place which is where I live at the moment until I can move to the place she lives and then I'll be in our bed there.
Hope you enjoyed this blog, until next time,
My girlfriend is the best...
She had an idea to send each other care packages. We were aiming to get them to each other by Valentine's day. Mine arrived at her door the next Tuesday after, but weather and other things delayed her sending hers. She continued to work on hers while at the same time feeling really bad about not having sent it yet. When it arrived at my door last Tuesday, I was out of town. I got back home at 4 am this past Saturday and stayed up all morning waiting until the post office opened so I could go pick it up. Once I had it and was back home again, we set up our cameras and commenced package opening. She wanted me to go first, so I did. She sent me a bear, which I already knew she was sending, but it's wearing a gi and a blue belt (like me) and a T-shirt with a ladybug on it (cause she's my ladybug). And it smelled slightly like roses, her favorite scent. She also sent mini boxes full of handwritten notes: good morning notes, lunch time notes, notes with random memories from our chats and video calls and dates, and letters for whenever I feel sad, or miss her, or need a hug, or feel anxious, or feel really happy. She thought of everything. She also sent a smaller, keychain bear, which included a ring. A ring she didn't expect me to put on the finger that I did, but secretly hoped I would if it fit. It isn't the ring she wants to propose to me with, but a promise. She wears a sapphire (my birthstone) ring on her ring finger as a promise, and I wear her ring on mine as a promise.
Every time I read her little notes I want to cry. She put so much time and energy into her care package. I appreciate her so much. And yes, I've told her this already. That's one of the amazing things about her. I can tell her everything I'm feeling all the time, any time, and she is open to listening. I tell her I love her a million times a day. I tell her she's cute or adorable or beautiful the moment the thought comes into my mind. We don't hold back.
The things I sent in my box, she loves as well. I knew she was cuddling with the bear she sent me, though she never showed me it. I couldn't let her send me her bear and then miss it while I had it, so I sent her a bear. I sent her a tshirt that I used to wear as a pajama shirt. It was also one of her favorites of my shirts because it's from one of our favorite shows. I sent her a keychain of the grape soda bottle cap from UP. She told me she had ordered one once but it was damaged so she returned it and always wanted a new one. I made her a bracelet from yarn with her name on it and crocheted her an adorable pink jellyfish because I'm her "Squishy" (from Finding Nemo). I sent her a little Pooh and Tigger plush that smell like cinammon apple because I'm her Pooh Bear and she's my Tigger. I sent her some letters that I'd written along with the original copy of the first poem I wrote for her. She didn't know how I felt at the time, and the poem didn't exactly say it either, but I read her the poem that day. It made her cry and I felt so bad, but she was so happy. It was my promise that I would always be there for her, and I meant it, even if it meant I was going to be her friend forever. I never expected she was already falling for me, too. I sent her some other bracelets as well that I bought: one that says "songbird" the first nickname I gave her, one covered in puzzle pieces matching my own, and a blue one that says "I love you too" to match my red "I love you". The color decision there was significant to our being Korrasami. I'm her Korra (blue) and she's my Asami (red).
I managed to hold my tears until I finished opening everything in her box (everything was wrapped in multiple layers, each layer containing a dorky message that just reeked of how perfect she is to me). Her eyes leaked a bit as she opened my box. She refused to put anything down, hugging each animal as she pulled them from the box and doing her best to hold them all in her arms the whole time.
I just... I just love her <3
I'm not heartbroken. I'm not spending my days crying. I am fine and will continue to be fine, but I'm mad.
I can't STOP being mad because now I know I doubted myself when I shouldn't have. YOU made me doubt myself when I should have trusted my instinct that there was something going on.
Shame on me for letting you in. Shame on me for not keeping my eyes open and my head clear. Shame on me for expecting you to treat me the same way I did you. But worst of all, shame on me for not trusting myself when I started to notice things not right. I wanted SO BADLY to believe that I was different to you than anyone else you had lied to, cheated on, mistreated, or tossed aside. But now I know, I wasn't.
Now I know. And it stings. Not the unbearable sharp, sting of rubbing alcohol being poured on a fresh cut. More like a slow, seething burn that you don't notice until it's too late, like a sunburn. The kind that keeps you in discomfort, close to agony, for days afterwards because you didn't trust your instinct and put on some goddamn sunscreen, even though you knew better. I knew better, but I trusted you, I have been bit, one, two, three too many times. I
It still didn't stop me from being seduced by you. Or stop me from thinking you would see me as different, any more, than anyone else you had wronged. It didn't stop me from giving you trust you didn't earn and didn't use well.
I'm still mad. I see now, because I was stupid enough to keep checking on you, that you are happy and may very well have found exactly what you are looking for, and with the one that I'm so fucking angry about. And believe me or not, there is a small piece of me that hopes so and is happy for you. But there is a bigger piece that wonders how long until you screw this up too, because theres a bitter side of me that is betting against you.
Ani Difranco Says...
"I used to be a superhero
No one could touch me
Not even myself
You are like a phone booth
That I somehow stumbled into
And now look at me
I am just like everybody else"
You were my phone booth. You were what made me forget to treat my feelings with respect and keep my eyes open to those who would do me harm, like I have diligently done for years now. And you took advantage of my vulnerability and now I'm mad at you. Furious. Resentful. Enraged.
I blocked you from facebook, not because I care what you see, because I can't get mad about what I don't see if I block myself from seeing it. Another shame on me, I knew better than to keep checking in on you. But I did it anyways.
As a result I will deal with another few days of anger before I can get back on the path of healing. A little more damaged, a little wiser, and a little stronger.
Why I am doing this now, almost three years after the breakup and two years since we last spoke, I don’t really know. I barely shed a tear when we ended, and the one or two that I did shed were mainly down to annoyance at myself, that I put up with your antics for so long.
But to be honest, it is more than time that some of this stuff went on record. You were so sweet and so lovely to me when we met, and I believe that was genuine at the time, and to this day I can’t understand how someone could change so utterly. Looking back, thought, the red flags were always there.
Before we’d even met in person, you’d pulled back when I expressed nervousness about meeting. If I ever committed the cardinal sin of saying you sounded low, or unsure about us, or - heaven forbid! - asking for reassurance, it would result in a freeze-out that would last for days. You helped make our one-year anniversary extra memorable, for instance, by blanking me for three days over something trivial right after we’d had what I thought was a lovely couple of days away together to celebrate.
If I ever had to change the slightest detail of a meet-up, a rescheduling or even just a slight delay in being able to get there, you’d try to call it all off. At least once you literally ended things with me because I said I couldn’t make a planned meet-up after all. You know what, I wish I’d just called your bluff and taken back my life much sooner.
You publicly wrote what amounted to a love poem TO SOMEONE ELSE and seemed perplexed as to why I would have a problem with that.
You ruined three meets for me, which is quite an accomplishment given that you were only on two of them.
You sneered at the town I grew up in, the town I love for all its faults. You ruined a fun evening in a fun place with nice people because you were homesick for fucking Chinawhite, or wherever else you deemed ‘good enough’ for you. If you want the truth, that weekend was the beginning of the end for me. First off you announced at the last minute you weren’t coming after all. Then you changed your mind back and I ended up wishing you hadn’t. You were so rude to some of my dearest friends, including the person who’d been kind enough to drive you there in the first place, and also the owner of the B&B where we stayed, someone I’ve been friends with since I was 16. You spent the evening after the meet giving me the silent treatment because someone flipped you the V on the street, like it was my fault because I’d apparently committed the unforgivable sin of stopping to speak to him in the first place. (Oh, by the way, you continued this theme delightfully the time you ripped me a new one for stopping in the street to sign a petition to stop a children’s acute care ward from closing: ‘You shouldn’t stop for these people,’ quote unquote.) You were still pulling your Princess Elsa act the next morning and I still didn’t walk, why? Because I was stupid enough to be concerned for you. You didn’t seem in a good place, but after the way you treated me you’re lucky I gave a damn about your feelings any more. I should have left you to stew in your sulk, and at the end of that weekend, when you superciliously announced, ‘I knew you wouldn’t go,’ I so wished that I had.
I have so many regrets about almost every aspect of our relationship. I regret that I didn’t care enough to get angry enough about the way I was treated. I made too many excuses for you, put up with way too much. But I mostly regret that I didn’t call you out more on the way you treated people I cared for. It was like if you knew someone was important to me, that was a reason to be shitty to them - and then you made ME out to be the insecure one. What a joke. You’d post the most horrible things online about MY FRIENDS and expect me to cheer you on, then sulk when I didn’t. You’d purposely stir up trouble and then get on Viber to me boasting about how you were ‘kicking some butt today’, no you weren’t. You were just being nasty for the sheer fun of being nasty. You almost drove more than one of my dearest friends away with your bizarre behaviour towards them. If you want the truth, I consider myself lucky they still speak to me. There were many, MANY occasions when I was ashamed to have anything to do with you. ‘The Defiant’? Don’t make me laugh. ‘The Psycho’ would have been closer to the mark.
I had so much going on in my life, but any show of weakness - or, heaven forbid, tears - was treated dismissively, or, worse, with contempt. Everything had to be about you all the time; I wrote a post on here recently about how I always thought I’d know narcissism when I saw it, but failed to realise for four years straight that I was dating it, it will always be a puzzle to me how I didn’t see what was right in front of my eyes. It’s like you can’t bear any trace of human frailty around you, you can only cope with people who have larger-than-life, tougher-than-Teflon personalities with the ego to match. The rest of us - those who aren’t afraid to feel, and to admit we feel and admit we cry - well, you have a word for us, don’t you? That’s right: inexplicably, somehow WE are the cowards.
And yet I let things drift on. Till finally the weekend when, in hindsight, I know I really should have told you where to stick it. It was already long overdue by that point. You flounced out of that meet on a whim, dramatically announcing that ‘this bi thing wasn’t for you.’ In hindsight I wish I’d let you go back to the hotel alone, stayed at the meet and enjoyed myself without you hanging around like a walking storm warning, but at the time I was stupid enough to care about what that meant for us, you’d become a habit by then, and my mind hadn’t yet caught up to the fact of how much better off I’d be without you. So we stood there, outside Candy Bar, the second time we’d stood outside a bar while you ruined my evening, and I let you have it, about what a bitch you were being, tears of anger streaming down my cheeks, and what did you do? You laughed in my face. And then when I walked off and left you to make your own way back, you were a bitch about that too. Did I ever get an apology for any of this? Not one that seemed even remotely sincere. (The saddest thing about that, by the way? Candy Bar was where we’d had our first kiss more than two years previously. Nice to see how much that memory meant to you.)
In hindsight, I can see that you were ambivalent about me for pretty much most of the time we were (supposedly) together. That’s fine - it’s your prerogative, especially as I was similarly ambivalent about you - but I rue pretty much all the time and money I spent on our relationship. It was an expensive lesson in more ways than one. Eventually I became so indifferent to you that I couldn’t even bothered to end it. That’s how apathetic you made me. When a person never shows you their heart, never shows a modicum of fragility, of human-ness… over time, there’s something oddly repellent about that. I stopped thinking about you in a sexual way long before we ended. I didn’t even especially want to kiss you. I used to get bored sometimes when we were doing ‘stuff’ and start listening to the TV instead, do you know that? Your insensitivity towards me at times was quite the biggest anti-aphrodisiac going, you see.
I keep trying to remind myself how good it was in the beginning when you used to actually let me in on how you were feeling, when you let me know that you cared, deeply, and even needed me. But that was only one side to your persona, and it disappeared over time. You just turned total ice-queen bitch and I was left scratching my head trying to figure out why. At one time I cared enough to try to figure you out. I knew you suffered badly from premenstrual mood swings, and I sympathised, but I tolerated way too much in the name of that excuse. It ended up being easier not to call you out on stuff because you would retaliate by making the most personal and hurtful verbal attacks on me, my insecurities, my vulnerabilities, that I’d been stupid enough to reveal to you. If there was one of us that had a personality disorder, it certainly isn’t me.
What you did to our relationship - to my feelings - was comparable to taking a beautifully handwritten love letter and scrawling obscenities all over it in marker felt. In the end my feelings just died, simple as that. Although you’d never have believed it, they were dead long before we ended. That was nicely done, by the way, via a random email in the middle of a busy work day - how were you to know all I would feel was relief? I could have been in bits for all you knew. But if I had been, and I’d told you so, I’d have been made to feel bad for that too. Everything is always someone else’s fault in your world, isn’t it? Your faith is so important to you, and you’re so convinced God loves you just as you are. Have you ever actually stopped to *look* at who you are? At how shabbily you treat people? And if you have, how on earth can you continue to call yourself a Christian? Oh well, that’s for your conscience to deal with now, I’m just glad to be out of the whole dysfunctional mess.
Even after we broke up you still tried to mess with my head, tried to make me jealous that you were moving on, when all I felt by this point was relief. At the time you tried out your little game I was rather more concerned by the fact that my cat had narrowly escaped death after being hit by a car and how did you respond? A cursory comment about hoping she was OK, then radio silence, because I didn’t play your little game, did I. You ‘hit back’ by unfriending me on Facebook and I just wanted to laugh.
The only regret I have now is that you’ll never get to read this. You’ll never know what I really thought of you towards the end. You’ll probably never get wise and stop being such a bitch, either.
So there we are, I finally said it.