It took a while for me to get there, though.
During the last Mercury Retrograde, I had decided to change one thing about me each week to make myself available to date.
My plan was to stop wearing fake wedding rings. I wanted to wait until I got my 5 carat. white gold white sapphire ring from Germany so I could wear it before giving up the habit I developed in 2006.
The ring never arrived.
I blame COVID and the grip it has on the postal service.
Today I wore a gaudy huge pink opal set in silver.
That habit doesn't stop the flirting.
I like the jewelry so......
not sure I'm gonna give that up quite yet.
*****
After another creepy dream, I awoke and wondered what I'm doing differently now than I did in the days before I met the star of the dreams.
I liked to wear dresses.
As a girl, I'd beg my mother to get me dresses. My mother and aunties would sew them for me. Then, I'd get in trouble because I'd wrestle with the neighbor boys in their artistic creations.
When my parents died, I started to earn my own money and bought my own dresses.
My favorite dress was a bright yellow sweater dress. It was pretty. It was warm. Guys seemed to carry my books around waist level when I wore it.
I loved that dress until a guy made a comment about my curves. He also thanked me for not laughing at him when his body betrayed his thoughts about me in that yellow dress.
I stopped wearing that dress all the time. I had others, though.
I wore them throughout my relationship with the guy in the dreams.
We broke up.
I was sexually assaulted by a married friend of my sister.
I stopped wearing dresses because it made it all too easy to take stuff I didn't want to give up.
I wore a dress on my wedding day. I wore one for a family photo in 1998.
Other than that, I rarely wore dresses until 2011.
That year, I was in the spotlight. I began my wrap dress collection. The sexiest feeling in the world is wearing a wrap dress with thigh high stockings.
Sigh....
I must have fifty dresses or so.
I wore them nearly daily until a fall day in 2012.
An idiot got himself off and ejaculated on me. Some of his spluge hit my right leg. I was wearing my favorite dress from Hawaii.
It was traumatizing.
Since that day, I've maybe worn three dresses because of that disgusting memory. When I wore them, it was when I was on a date with the guy I was seeing at the time. I knew he wouldn't try to waste his genetic material like that.
I can't seem to put a dress on without wanting to vomit.
Dresses are sexy.
Last night, I figured that I needed to start wearing them again.
Last night (well, yesterday morning) I stayed up until 6:00 a.m. ordering dresses from boutiques across the ocean.
There was really nothing better to do as I was trying to avoid sleeping due to the creepy dreams.
The creepy dreams were still there but they were filled with images of hot dresses in the background.
I focused more on the clothes than the person in the dreams.
I awoke with the feeling that I'm going to need to invest in shoes with less than a 5" heel.
*****
Then, minds are busy.
They like to think (well, they do if we're lucky).
They like to question.
I wondered why I would want to wear dresses if I were asexual and not wanting to be sexy at all.
Maybe asexuality is just an excuse to stay away from men.
I wondered about that.....
finally realizing that most men I've allowed myself to know were asshats.
I'm patient to a fault and typically pass the tests that idiotic jerks give us to see who will put up with their crap.
After my last marriage died and my friend of three years turned into a maniac once he proposed to me and I asked him to slow down.......
I swore off men.
Love is too nutty.
It is too crazy.
I don't have the kind of time it's going to take to tolerate anyone else stealing from me, ruining my credit or driving me into bankruptcy.
This isn't even mentioning the mental gymnastics of trying to understand the mind games.
I have no time for that crap right now.
Life is too darn short.
It sucks being alone.
Being alone is easier than being lonely as part of a couple.
*****
My subconscious mind must be sharing a difference of opinion.
Everyone that followed that first love has been insane.
If it gave me too many dreams of Steve,
or Michael,
Or Ross,
I'd just cement my celibacy.
I haven't dreamt of Steve since he got weird at a Phish concert and sold my tickets out from under me leaving me alone in the cheap seats.
I'll dream of Michael begging for a second chance (NO!). I have those dreams about once every three years or so.
Once in a while, I'll dream of Ross trying to have an orgy with aged women who resemble me (ICK!). That usually happens when his wife or daughter complains about his endless affairs to me.
My subconscious mind has to take me way back before I decided to be patient with jokers.
It will always take me to that first relationship (which kinda feels creepy). This guy never hit me, threatened to kill me, threatened to stalk me, stole from me or any of that crap that permeated the three guys who followed him.
He took me to church and was pretty much an angel (well....that's my story and I'm sticking to it.)
It's almost as though my subconscious mind is sick of me making excuses and wasting my life away alone in my bedroom with my bass guitars, saxophones, recording equipment and hordes of books.
In fact, I'm typically bruised because I sleep with hardcover books. I fall asleep reading.
Between the cuts and bruises on my body from sleeping on textbooks and the acoustic foam that covers my bedroom walls, people must think I'm into some pretty funky stuff.
Sigh....
Since it'll take a couple of weeks for the new wardrobe to get here,
I'll have to give some thought to what else I can do to try to shift my thinking about men.
I've avoided them so much so that I only work with women.
Something must've shifted in my energy if a cowboy flirted with me.
I have a leather riding coat rom my cowgirl days.
I never wear it after some jerks shot up a school in 1999.
No one told me I'd have to visit a mountain town today to pick up stuff for a patient. Horse towns are pretty much the only place I could wear that coat without people thinking I'm a dominatrix.
That was a lost opportunity.
Maybe if I stop being a celibate prude, the dreams will finally go away.
*****
I don't know what happened today.
Maybe my new shampoo has weird chemicals in it.
I just caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
My hair is strawberry blonde!!
What the heck?
That could be why he flirted.
Damn....
If I go back to get more stuff for the patient, I'm going to wear a cowboy hat.
I'm gonna have to dye the heck out of my hair this weekend.
Maybe it's true that blondes have more fun.
May you enjoy yourself no matter what you do (unless your hurting other people - may you hate that so much that you stop it)
I'm off to sleep.
Three hours of sleep a day makes it hard to hold a congealed thought.
Can't you tell?
Love you lots,
S.
Next day edit:
I don't think I typed the lesson. The lesson comes from a memory of the star of my nightmares.
The last time I saw him, he said that "there is no one worth dating."
That's the lesson.
If I don't mourn love,
If I don't wish for it,
If I don't date - the dreams won't have anything on me.
I used to just do stuff for the sake of doing it.
It's time I just do that -
make every day an adventure in it's own right.
Que Sera Sera.
I'm not gonna worry about who hears what and when.
Hugs,
S.
Edit: 2/15/2021 - I think that was the lesson. For the past nine days, I'll dream of dresses and guitars. I'm not dreaming of men from my past.
The lesson is to do stuff for the sake of doing it.
Be free and live every moment.
Love ya,
S.
Edit: 2/16/2021 - Crap, I spoke too soon. This dream was funny.
The guy from my past (who is now looking a little more distinguished, if you catch my drift) is looking at me with those disturbing watery eyes and head tilted to the left.
I spy a thin, blonde woman with wavy hair and a wedding band behind him and I point at her as if to remind him who he needs to be looking at.
Then I wonder if that's his wife
- or some else's.
Even my dream self is a tad bit stupid. If I hadn't woken up, the dream could have included someone getting punched out for kissing someone else's wife.
Yikes.
I awaken to remember another horrible thing my younger self did to this person.
Actually, I was proud of myself.
So, when a certain human being was sixteen years old. He had a bit of turbidity that he somehow thought was my responsibility. We were completely clothed and I had three bedrooms (yeah, I really did).
We were in the yellow room with portraits of bass guitarists on the walls (Bootsy Collins, Billy Gibbons, Paul McCartney, John Taylor, Sting, Michael Anthony and that awesome whiskey bottle bass...who else? I don't remember....seems to me I had a picture of Randy Rhodes, too - not a bassist but a heck of a guitarist. Oh yeah, there was also a picture of me dressed in a zebra print top with a red sweater posing with drums for some stupid reason. Wonder where that picture went? Hmmmm.....).
I remember trying to show him my saxophones, Peavey and the laughable broken guitar my dad gave me.
I didn't try to make out in that room.....ever. I didn't want to ruin my collection of expensive toys.
He's complained about his condition. Without a word, I handed him a box of tissues and walked out of the room.
I returned to find a trio of unused tissues crumbled on my bed.
There could be a reason this guy doesn't talk to me.
See? Dating me was a nightmare!
Hope your daughters have the same kind of self-restraint (that is if you have teenage daughters.).
Love ya,
S.