Today I am thankful for a whole heck of a lot of stuff, especially the wine.
I've had lots and lots of wine, thanks to my weekly Dionysus ritual.
It's red.
It makes my joints swell,
but it is yummy as He!!
and it is supposed to be good for my heart.
I'm feeling weird.
Wine dulls my mental capacities.
It also makes me type the wrong words. I usually type a lot of homonyms.
Whine becomes Wine
Weight becomes Wait
That kind of thing.
I do a lot of backwards typing, too.
was becomes saw
Bob becomes Bob (ooh, cool...I can type that one without issue!!)
*****
I haven't seen a naked guy since 2008ish (or was it 2007ish?). It was July 23rd. It was the day my ex-boyfriend emailed me. I hallucinated seeing my ex stand by my bedpost. I let out a scream. My latest ex (the one living in the basement came upstairs to comfort me for the last time).
When I checked my inbox, I saw five emails from him at four that morning (the time I let out the scream).
Now, the bizarre thing was the man I saw was easily recognizable as my old flame. When I saw him walking on the street two months later, I immediately recognized him.
That was creepy.
And, sadly, when I see that old flame, I think about banging my latest old flame.
This explains why he is banished...far, far away in never nookie land.
I love him....
-but-
ewwww!
Maybe someday I'll tell you the amethyst spell story.
Okay, I'll tell you now.
My daddy used to say that men who carried amethyst stones on their person attracted hot blonds.
My old flame was lonely, so I offered to buy him a stone.
He told me no.
So, I bought him an amethyst with the rune Gebo imprinted on it. Gebo is the rune for love and marriage and unions that cannot be undone.
I cast a true love spell upon it seven times and gave it to him. I have auburn hair, so it wouldn't work on me. It only works on blonds.
I'm not blond, so I felt safe.
I slyly put it in a Hallmark cup that I gave him. When we were kids, I used to buy him the most obnoxious cups at Hallmark. It's a thing we have.
On the day I gave it to him, I was driving my latest ex's car. He had broken the seat and it was held up with bricks. I didn't want the kids in it, so the deal was that I'd drive his car and he'd drive mine IF he had the kids.
My old flame knows that I have a cleaning fixation. That car was dirtier than hell, so he asked me whose car it was. I hemmed. I hawed. I finally told him. He's a Scorpio after all, he'd have guessed.
He went outside and came back to see me grinning like a devil.
Last year, I donated that old flippin' car. I found that amethyst stone in it.
My latest ex does not have a hot blond. I did meet a beautiful blond lesbian artist, though.
We are good friends.
I am NOT happy!
Doesn't Mr. Old Flame know how long it takes to cast a hot blond love spell? I spent hours upon hours upon hours trying to keep him from posting sad, lonely, memes on Facebook!
For what?
An ex who goes gaga over my platinum blond roots. Yeah, it's turning platinum blond!
It started in a place no one has seen since the dark ages. Now, the hair on my head is turning white. It's soft and pretty. I'm not going to bitch. I always wanted to look like Andy Warhol.
I hate that it is turning white down there!!!
I feel like Ms. JackYouOff Frost.
That's probably what I'm getting for being so frigid.
Damn it!!!
Damn...if my ex, named Mike, finds a hot blond that calls him Tom.
We'll know what happened!
Don't mess with my magick!
*****
So-
I don't know.
I have a Scorpio buddy trying to coach me into having a fling.
She knows what I think is hot.
She knows why I like the men who have the look I like.
She is now taking to trying to set me up with her friends who look like my friend.
They're not my friend!
He's an introvert. They are extroverts. They would wear me out and not understand that I need me time with wine and books!
Ugh!
On the bright side, she did coach me into how to get my friend to give me a hug.
He gave me TWO today at lunch!
He usually only shakes my hand.
This is PROGRESS!!
So....always take a Scorpio's sex advice.
Yeah....she gave me a ton of that.
Open body language....
Direct language....
Protection...
Imagination...
And the word "yes."
Got it...
And no.....I am NOT sleeping now.
Wow...
*****
So what happens now.
I don't know.
Tomorrow is my birthday.
I'm going to a baby shower a few blocks away from my friend's house.
Guess who I'm going to want to see?
Oh my...
I'm going to try to avoid my ex.
He wants me back.
He's promising to go into therapy.
He's been promising that since I filed for divorce.
How many therapists has he called?
NONE!!
And the lawyer we allegedly hired to do a restraining order against Shannon?
Well, he came back and expressed an interest in fucking her.
He took our money and fucked us.
I think he must've been a friend of Mike's.
Mike can look innocent if he gets a restraining order against his sister and the lawyer screws up.
That's nice, eh?
I reminded Mike of the family myth that I'm a witch and asked for a sample of the man's hand writing. I told him I could curse the hell out of him merely with something he touched.
That man gulped!! Good!!
Superstitious people are fun to fuck with.
Smart people are fun to fuck (at least I'm hoping that is the case).
*****.
So....
I misunderstood my friend. He didn't say that perversion was bad.
Good!
I like being perverted in private with my best friend.
Hooray!!
He took me out for tea.
It was bad.
I had a bad day.
I couldn't sleep because of my conversation with the lady Scorpio.
I fell asleep around 4:00. I woke up at 6:30. I did the housewife thing (which I should stop because....just...because....if were divorcing...I should not be bleaching undies and squelching vomit).
At 9:00, I was exhausted and I thought that a work-out would help me wake up.
An hour and a half long workout did nothing for me except make me fall asleep.
It was 95 degrees today.
I stripped naked.
I was sweaty and salty and yucky and awakened at 12:20 by a phone telling me that I had a message.
It was Steve. He wanted to have lunch at 1:00.
He is thirty minutes away.
I was supposed to be one block away from his location at 1:00, so he was thinking about me.
I threw on some old ratty clothes I found in my donation pile.
I threw on some tinted sunscreen and mascara.
I threw my oily, sticky, salty hair in a pony tail.
I took off and rode like the wind.
While I was listening to R & B and getting in the mood for fun stuff,
while I was groovin' and really adding to the funky smell,
some idiot in a PT Cruiser cut in front of me.
I nearly hit him!
And he stopped because he wanted to get into another lane.
I started sweating and shaking and laughing.
I was laughing.
I yelled when he managed to stop along side of me.
I called him sweetie and told him that I never wanted to dance like that again!!
He drove off.
What an @$$wipe. I'm surprised he's still alive.
*****
So....
*****
*****
Determinism?
Defining relationships?
How does one define a relationship?
I've only been in three.
I don't know!!!!
The last guy took five years to tell me we were an item. People knew me as Mike's girlfriend only because his mother gave his relatives my phone number and told them to call me and tell me never to see him again. Yeah....I should've ran far, far away. I was only 22!!!
The guy before that bought me a diamond ring and told me that if I wore it, it meant I was off the market.
The guy before that actually had to come out and ask if we were an item because the teachers were talking about it. His friends defined us as a couple and he needed to know whether or not they needed to be told that they were wrong. In the interim he had told them that we were both gay and covering for each other: I guess that was his way of keeping me looking virtuous.
I didn't know what to say. I just held his hand. I think it had been several months of swapping glances and hanging out. He earned it.
So, I'm drunk.
I'm freaked out.
I'm hoping that I misunderstood.
I guess I would define a love relationship upon physical activities.
If we screw and we like it and intend on doing it again, we're lovers.
We just take it one day at a time from there.
If I'm a dead fish, that dude should look elsewhere.
It's been so long, that I don't remember how to kiss, or fuck, or love, or hug, or talk.
I actually thought about seeking therapy for that.
I did once. That therapist was more worried that I didn't believe the police when they said Mike was the stalker. She claimed that I couldn't do anything without him and she did not believe me when I told her what I did when he was gone.
I hope that bitch Googled my name.
She sucked!!!
I left her a shitty review on Yelp.
My office is down the road from hers and I hope I steal her clients.
I have a MA in psych, too!
I don't guess about people!
I listen!!
Oh, crap...I started crying when I thought about my fears pertaining to kissing, lovemaking, and being in a relationship.
How do I know that I don't suck?
I'm still crying.
Maybe that is a sign and a signal that I need more wine.
I think I should sign off now.
So....
I misunderstood my friend. He didn't say that perversion was bad.
Good!
I like being perverted in private with my best friend.
Hooray!!
He took me out for tea.
It was bad.
I had a bad day.
I couldn't sleep because of my conversation with the lady Scorpio.
I fell asleep around 4:00. I woke up at 6:30. I did the housewife thing (which I should stop because....just...because....if were divorcing...I should not be bleaching undies and squelching vomit).
At 9:00, I was exhausted and I thought that a work-out would help me wake up.
An hour and a half long workout did nothing for me except make me fall asleep.
It was 95 degrees today.
I stripped naked.
I was sweaty and salty and yucky and awakened at 12:20 by a phone telling me that I had a message.
It was Steve. He wanted to have lunch at 1:00.
He is thirty minutes away.
I was supposed to be one block away from his location at 1:00, so he was thinking about me.
I threw on some old ratty clothes I found in my donation pile.
I threw on some tinted sunscreen and mascara.
I threw my oily, sticky, salty hair in a pony tail.
I took off and rode like the wind.
While I was listening to R & B and getting in the mood for fun stuff,
while I was groovin' and really adding to the funky smell,
some idiot in a PT Cruiser cut in front of me.
I nearly hit him!
And he stopped because he wanted to get into another lane.
I started sweating and shaking and laughing.
I was laughing.
I yelled when he managed to stop along side of me.
I called him sweetie and told him that I never wanted to dance like that again!!
He drove off.
What an @$$wipe. I'm surprised he's still alive.
*****
So....
I get to my destination.
I'm shaking.
I'm almost to tears.
Now, I can't type.
Too much wine.
Let me make this short.
To do that, I have to gloss over all the gentleman stuff my friend does.
He bought me tea.
It was pink and had the word passion in it.
There was no sugar to make me sick (hooray!!)
It was yummy.
Maybe it was the company.
He let me take time to collect myself.
He put me at ease.
We spoke about my misunderstanding.
He made me feel things ladies don't admit to feeling....
then he said things that confused and/or scared the holy hell out of me.
*****
He spoke about Determinism.
Now, I'm supposed to have a master's degree in philosophy as it pertains to the human condition.
Okay...determinism....our culture, our upbringing, our resources determine who we are.
Nice.
He threaded this into relationships...
Nice.
He threated that into defining relationships.
I noticed that I had subconsciously grabbed by car keys at this point.
He stopped talking.
Ugh...
Please tell me that this wasn't what it seemed to be about?
NO...it wasn't.
He's more direct than that.
Besides, why would anyone want to be tied down to ME?
I'm old.
I'm saggy.
I'm baggy.
I had an awful wardrobe malfunction today; if he saw it, he will NEVER speak to me again.
Yeah...apparently I've lost so much weight, my pants fall off and reveal my saggy remnants of the weight loss. I have about two to three inches of saggy skin that is just scary looking.
It looks like Halloween.
It's that bad.
There is not enough glycolic acid in the world to burn that away. I'm going to need cosmetic surgery.
I'm hoping I find a love who doesn't care.
*****
Determinism?
Defining relationships?
How does one define a relationship?
I've only been in three.
I don't know!!!!
The last guy took five years to tell me we were an item. People knew me as Mike's girlfriend only because his mother gave his relatives my phone number and told them to call me and tell me never to see him again. Yeah....I should've ran far, far away. I was only 22!!!
The guy before that bought me a diamond ring and told me that if I wore it, it meant I was off the market.
The guy before that actually had to come out and ask if we were an item because the teachers were talking about it. His friends defined us as a couple and he needed to know whether or not they needed to be told that they were wrong. In the interim he had told them that we were both gay and covering for each other: I guess that was his way of keeping me looking virtuous.
I didn't know what to say. I just held his hand. I think it had been several months of swapping glances and hanging out. He earned it.
So, I'm drunk.
I'm freaked out.
I'm hoping that I misunderstood.
I guess I would define a love relationship upon physical activities.
If we screw and we like it and intend on doing it again, we're lovers.
We just take it one day at a time from there.
If I'm a dead fish, that dude should look elsewhere.
It's been so long, that I don't remember how to kiss, or fuck, or love, or hug, or talk.
I actually thought about seeking therapy for that.
I did once. That therapist was more worried that I didn't believe the police when they said Mike was the stalker. She claimed that I couldn't do anything without him and she did not believe me when I told her what I did when he was gone.
I hope that bitch Googled my name.
She sucked!!!
I left her a shitty review on Yelp.
My office is down the road from hers and I hope I steal her clients.
I have a MA in psych, too!
I don't guess about people!
I listen!!
Oh, crap...I started crying when I thought about my fears pertaining to kissing, lovemaking, and being in a relationship.
How do I know that I don't suck?
I'm still crying.
Maybe that is a sign and a signal that I need more wine.
I think I should sign off now.
Love ya,
S.