Today I am thankful for remembering a shitty time in my life.
So...this song reminds me of a drawing.
It was a portrait that a young man made of me back in '87.
It was a very good likeness.
It was so good that our high school art teacher put it in the showcase for the entire school to see.
Everyone knew it was me.
Yep.....
It was drawn by my soon-to-be ex boyfriend.
I think this is probably the real reason I run from him.
He shamed me for being what he wanted me to be.
Let me explain....
The absolute dumbest mistake men make in relationships is to ridicule a woman for her sexuality.
Some guys ridicule the women they love.....
These kind of guys call their loves loose or sluts when they want to make 'em feel like men.
So....she starts to hold back.
Then they wonder why the relationship goes cold sexually as the woman begins to withhold the nooky.
Stupid, eh?
The thing that pissed me off most about this guy, is that when I wanted to audition as a bass player for a local band....
he told me I'd become the hole.
He thought the only reason I was invited to audition was because I had a vagina.
Truth is, I'm an asshole in heels
and by the time I was sixteen, I'd have a lot of experience fighting off some really scary dudes....
I would never be a hole in a band.
Electric guitars are dangerous.....
there are a lot of ways to take down abusive musicians.
I've never had to electrocute someone, poison a reed, make someone wear a snare as a necklace, shove a drumstick in an eye, or push my 5" heels up someone's arse.
The worst thing that had ever happened to me was this...
I once had a harmonica player say he masturbated with his instruments - I never touched his harmonica because I don't know where he kept it.
Right now, I can't think of a musician who bothered me.
Maybe it pays to be ugly.
I don't know.....
I'd never be a band slut. As a roadie, I'd certainly be no fun.
I'd lust after the guitars....
It is weird when bass players catch me staring....
Actually that's not the weird part....
it's weird when their significant others catch me staring!
I never would have been a hole in a band....
even when I was playing with a band of lesbians....
I was a celibate hole.
That's how insecure this guy was....
I was not allowed to have any type of sexuality.
If I cracked an innuendo
he thought I was a slut so I had to tone it down.
If I couldn't....he'd ridicule me.
The drawing was his way of shaming me for my sexuality.
If she wants it from him....she's loose or a slut.
That's what he said to me.
I didn't let that stop me at first.
So....he embarrassed me with a very well done portrait of me with a vagina in my forehead.
He called it "Sex on the Brain."
That was annoying.
******
Rhianna has a song called "Love on the Brain."
When I hear this song on the radio, it reminds me of the drawing.
It reminds me why I run away.....maybe the dreams will finally stop.
I can't 'eff someone who ridicules me for wanting to do that! '
I guarantee at 47, he wants someone who wants him.
I hope he's found her.
Here's a hint - reward her for wanting you. Don't punish her and wonder why she won't kiss your special package!
Geesh!!
****************
That said....
I was pleasantly surprised at the behavior of the young men I knew.
Only one guy tried to take advantage of the situation.....he learned I broke up with my ex and showed up on my doorstep. I gave him a soda and he was upset he didn't get anything more.
He still lives across the street from my childhood home. I try not to grin when my aunt and uncle mention him.
He's not the angel they thought he was!!!
The other boys were my friends. They didn't try to kiss me or raid the soda. They were not impressed with my ex's behavior and I hear they gave my ex hell for picking on me like that.
I hear they picked on him for his Scottish clothes. I grew up in a cow town. Back in the 80's ranchers didn't really understand kilts.
I don't know. I hear stories from my ex-husband about those days. They may be lies intended to embarrass me.
I'll never know.
Some of these guys are my friends to this day. I know their wives.
I guess nice men have better lives and happier wives.
************************
Time plays tricks on our memory.
This is especially true when it comes to our exes.
Our brains are hardwired to remember the good times.
We remember the romantic times.
The bad things fade with time.
We forget them.
This is why we romanticize bad relationships and wish to be with people who broke our hearts.
Rhianna reminded me why......
why I took off....
Why I still run....
I guess I can stop running now!
He won't recognize me with the gray hair and my newly discovered smirk wrinkle!
And before I remembered why, I was always repressed around this guy....even 25 years after we broke up!
I usually flirt and play in public.
I never could do that with him.
******************
Do you what Rhianna song makes me smirk?
I'll post it below.
I played it for another ex....once.
He couldn't walk in the bakery section of the grocery store when I was around....
Just for yucks and giggles, I bought birthday cake ice cream.
He lost it!!!
The smirk wrinkle is my punishment for being a tease.
I miss humming when I [censored]......sigh......
This would be a fun song to serenade the right guy with.....
I wonder if they have something similar at the local Karaoke show. I've got a crush on the DJ (hey...he rescued me....that's crush worthy).
I'll ask.....
Well, maybe not. Nobody wants Ms. Piggy singing that to them no matter how kind hearted they are!
I need a guy who will let me make him feel like a sex god.....I guess I need to work on looking like a goddess first.
I needed to remember why....
I still cross my legs and act all inhibited around that old guy I dated all those many years ago.
I guess it's cellular memory....making me small around him....repressing my jokes, my grins, my touch...
The years didn't take away my fear of being sexual around him....
even when the Goddess brought him to me.....
to a Chinese restaurant....
where the waitress was trying to get him to buy me roses....
Twenty some odd years after the drawing....
I couldn't even eat around him!
I couldn't be me.....I was in my city....my home turf....the place I was running for mayor....on the biggest speech giving day of the year (April 15)....
and I couldn't feel anything around him....
April 15th is my angry day.
This day I felt nothing.
That's why, isn't it?
I was subconsciously afraid my emotion would end up as a drawing on DeviantART or something!!!
Maybe I needed to remember the reason for the awkwardness.
May you find the one who brings out your hotness.
May all your songs make you smile, smirk or grin!
Love ya,
S.
Next day edit: I burned my love candle....it melted into a little heart shaped puddle. The initials in it are MOP.
Yep, I mopped up the nightmares. I slept fairly well. No nightmares.....nothing.
I pray it continues....
It's good to remember the truth.
Although it is important to remember the truth, it also important to forgive. I think I forgave that ex a very long time ago.
If he needs me or if pocket dials me....I reach out.
I don't like reaching out because, I my mind, I've been replaced with a hot chick and don't want to rock the boat.
If he, the hot chick or his children need a kidney.....and mine still function. I'll be here.
I owe him a life debt. He saved my life a very long time ago.
He's forgiven for being silly.
Those days he visited with me, with love in his eyes and the beautiful hugs that only he could give - those days - after years had passed and the feelings still fill the air....
I realize that I am too repressed around him.
I'm stiff and quiet and boring.
He argues with me about psychology and, maybe, I forget my graduate training.
He tells me about meeting the Mayor of his city when both men were relieving themselves in a river (eewww). I forget to tell him that I threw my hat in the ring of the city where he's complaining about the traffic.
I just sit there quiet.
It was worse on Facebook. He equated me to Ayn Rand. I couldn't find it within myself to tell him and Rand hated Libertarians and thought women were stupid and docile. She wrote fiction. She wasn't a philosopher. I'm not a fan.
Maybe I am like Ayn Rand when I am with him. I don't do anything. I don't say anything. I just.....sit....repressed.....trying to covertly hypnotize him to see what I see in him.
That's boring!
I'm no fun around him.
Life is all about having fun.
Now I know why.
I don't know how to fix it. I play mind games with people for a living. I can't figure out the game that I need to play with myself to stop from being a petulant repressed stiff person in front of this man.
So.....it's good to know why. It's good to know where my limits are.
The man is forgiven. The pain has faded into a funny story that makes me bust up laughing when Rhianna plays on the radio.
Love ya lots,
S