I am opening a shop in my industry, which is a small, cantankerous and secretive world only recently come up from the underground. There is an attitude in that world of playing fast and loose and defiant, with a strange and disturbing streak of unexpected conservativeness. I'm tired of dealing with working in an environment I have no control over, with shop owners who are either crazy, on drugs, or both. Not to say good people don't exist in the industry, I have met some wonderful people, most of whom had a similar discomfort at how a lot of our colleagues behave.
So I'm striking out and doing my own thing. It's a fearsome unmarked path, and thus far fraught with a lot of red tape. I suspect the red tape is a result of the industry's former underground thing and the horrible reputation it has garnered thereby. I am well out of my comfort zone in such a wide variety of ways, that I'm not sure I would recognize that beloved zone if I were to spot it again. So why? Why haven't I gone the far easier route and picked up a gig at another shop? I am talented enough that thus far job-getting hasn't been a struggle.
Most of it has to do with my attitude on fear. If something really frightens me I have to face it. (excluding really unlikely to need skills like swimming with sharks or skydiving) That whole fear is the mindkiller quote from Dune sunk in deep as a kid, and I do so want to be a human.This is why, despite my panic attack inducing fear of ladders and roofs, up I went to clean gutters last year. This stubbornness keeps pushing me through despite my morbid fear of dealing with 'the authorities,' my tension over what people may say about me behind my back, my horror of complete financial failure, and the long list of lesser fears that whisper to me of an easier way out.
My mother told me to petition Hecate for help, and I had to laugh. She's so not my patron goddess and lucky unlucky me, most of the gods I am close to like to bat me around and test my mettle for a long while before making everything easy all at once. Or, in more agnostic viewpoint, something in my psyche makes me torture myself and get all wrought up for a long time before things work out. Maybe it makes things feel more worthwhile, it certainly doesn't make all the crap I worry about any more realistic or easily resolved.
I suspect that whether oor not I'm successful business-wise, this will still be rewarding in an educational sense. And things do turn out all right, eventually. All prophecies come clear in retrospect, even if hindsight is fishy to me.
09 March 2008
02 March 2008
My wound
I call my heterolifemate my wound. Without her it would be far easier to close out everyone and be a fortress, but she opened me up...thus, my wound.
She came into my life shortly before the catastrophic end of a very bad relationship. We had been circling each other in a wary fashion for a bit of time, starting to hang out, but the defining moment came the night my husband left me. For a bit of back story, he was very possessive and had wormed his way in with my mother and chased off most of the friends I had left after we moved from Missouri. Being naturally a bit of an introvert, I didn't develop an extensive new network of friends after the move. It also didn't help that he would get in a screaming rage if I was ten minutes late from work.
I was a manager at a Borders store, and I was supposed to go in about eleven the day after he left. I was up all night because he left no note, so I had been calling police, hospitals, his friends, and pacing the house. At one a.m. I saw he had taken all of his medications and I knew he wasn't coming back. Of course I didn't sleep after that, so I called in sick the next day. My wound was working in the back office and overheard the other manager's end of the conversation. She called me a little while later and told me she had overheard, then calmly told me she was coming over after work and spending the night.
I had a stream of visitors that evening, including a childhood nemesis-friend (complicated story) and her family, all of them mouthing platitudes about how this is going to be okay, and it's really the best thing and here's some chocolate. For months after I hated chocolate.
But I fell in love with my wound that night, though it took me months to own up to it. The minute the visitors left, she looked over at me and cracked me up with snide remarks on their platitudes and brilliant imitations of their oh-so-sorry-for-you speeches. The last thing I had wanted to hear at that point was a bunch of, well, it'll be better for you, you'll see. I GOT DUMPED. FOR A WOMAN TWICE MY AGE! He didn't leave a fucking note!
She made no drama and platted no platitudes, she slept on my couch without saying "if you need anything...blah blah." She didn't say, she did. It was so entirely what I needed.
She tempted me into playing hooky from work to run around the mall and buy clothes and new glasses for the first time in years. We took pictures of meat I threw out of the car window, back when we both ate meat. We sat alone in the house together on New Year's Y2K getting drunk and waiting to see if anything at all of interest would happen. She moved in that year, and has lasted through a million life changes. New house, those five post-divorce years when I was more insane than usual, becoming vegetarian, quitting smoking, going to pagan camp the first time and drowning my car on the way, and a bunch of other crazy adventures that add up to seven plus years of good times.
I usually stun people when I say during all this time we've never really fought. Oh, I've had times when I'm pissed at her (both justly and just because I'm screwy in the head) or she's pissed at me(ditto) but we are generally good at adjusting without fireworks. It just hurts too much when it's not right between us.
I started this post from someone asking about our relationship in a live journal group on polyamory, and besides having a sweet stroll down memory lane and making myself feel all gooshy, I wanted to take a poke at why I think our relationship works as well as it does.
1. Sex is not love. I'm straight, sucks, but I can't help it. Love is action for both of us in a lot of ways, but for us, that action is not usually cuddling and is definitely not sexual. Sometimes it's whipping up some brownies at midnight, sometimes it's getting hauled out of bed to pick up my drunk incoherent ass.
2. Because you've hooked up with someone you love AND have sex with, that doesn't mean that your non-sexual love is now an option to be tossed aside. Both of us have been ill-used this way. This society crams the idea of the sexual couple disappearing up each other's bums into some dream world of their own so hard that it's sickening. We prioritize each other, even when we are involved with sex partners.
3. Being a voyeur and having a ton of compersion helps. Just 'cuz I can't bring the sexual healing doesn't mean I can't stand it when Dr.Love brings the cure! My wound is a HOT HOT HOTTIE and I love thinking of her getting well laid with the partner/s of her choice. And overhearing it gives me the giggles/lusties. And she's not above winkling details of my sexploits out of me either. We're both hopeless pervs.
4. I almost hate this one, but it's true. Close friends she hates don't last, and vice versa. Acquaintances, occasional drinking buddies, okay, but close friends have to be chill with the psuedowife. This goes double for lovers, of course, and a billion times as much for potential live-ins.
5. We ignore society's shoulds, and have a grand time living our lives together in our way. Surprisingly, no lightning bolt or cosmic progress report has flattened us yet. Fuck everybody else if they can't take the joke.
6. Negotiate negotiate negotiate! It helps she lets me get away with swanning around like the diva I am, but I absolutely have to consider her feelings/how she will be affected in anything I choose to do. As I said, it hurts too much if things aren't right between us.
She came into my life shortly before the catastrophic end of a very bad relationship. We had been circling each other in a wary fashion for a bit of time, starting to hang out, but the defining moment came the night my husband left me. For a bit of back story, he was very possessive and had wormed his way in with my mother and chased off most of the friends I had left after we moved from Missouri. Being naturally a bit of an introvert, I didn't develop an extensive new network of friends after the move. It also didn't help that he would get in a screaming rage if I was ten minutes late from work.
I was a manager at a Borders store, and I was supposed to go in about eleven the day after he left. I was up all night because he left no note, so I had been calling police, hospitals, his friends, and pacing the house. At one a.m. I saw he had taken all of his medications and I knew he wasn't coming back. Of course I didn't sleep after that, so I called in sick the next day. My wound was working in the back office and overheard the other manager's end of the conversation. She called me a little while later and told me she had overheard, then calmly told me she was coming over after work and spending the night.
I had a stream of visitors that evening, including a childhood nemesis-friend (complicated story) and her family, all of them mouthing platitudes about how this is going to be okay, and it's really the best thing and here's some chocolate. For months after I hated chocolate.
But I fell in love with my wound that night, though it took me months to own up to it. The minute the visitors left, she looked over at me and cracked me up with snide remarks on their platitudes and brilliant imitations of their oh-so-sorry-for-you speeches. The last thing I had wanted to hear at that point was a bunch of, well, it'll be better for you, you'll see. I GOT DUMPED. FOR A WOMAN TWICE MY AGE! He didn't leave a fucking note!
She made no drama and platted no platitudes, she slept on my couch without saying "if you need anything...blah blah." She didn't say, she did. It was so entirely what I needed.
She tempted me into playing hooky from work to run around the mall and buy clothes and new glasses for the first time in years. We took pictures of meat I threw out of the car window, back when we both ate meat. We sat alone in the house together on New Year's Y2K getting drunk and waiting to see if anything at all of interest would happen. She moved in that year, and has lasted through a million life changes. New house, those five post-divorce years when I was more insane than usual, becoming vegetarian, quitting smoking, going to pagan camp the first time and drowning my car on the way, and a bunch of other crazy adventures that add up to seven plus years of good times.
I usually stun people when I say during all this time we've never really fought. Oh, I've had times when I'm pissed at her (both justly and just because I'm screwy in the head) or she's pissed at me(ditto) but we are generally good at adjusting without fireworks. It just hurts too much when it's not right between us.
I started this post from someone asking about our relationship in a live journal group on polyamory, and besides having a sweet stroll down memory lane and making myself feel all gooshy, I wanted to take a poke at why I think our relationship works as well as it does.
1. Sex is not love. I'm straight, sucks, but I can't help it. Love is action for both of us in a lot of ways, but for us, that action is not usually cuddling and is definitely not sexual. Sometimes it's whipping up some brownies at midnight, sometimes it's getting hauled out of bed to pick up my drunk incoherent ass.
2. Because you've hooked up with someone you love AND have sex with, that doesn't mean that your non-sexual love is now an option to be tossed aside. Both of us have been ill-used this way. This society crams the idea of the sexual couple disappearing up each other's bums into some dream world of their own so hard that it's sickening. We prioritize each other, even when we are involved with sex partners.
3. Being a voyeur and having a ton of compersion helps. Just 'cuz I can't bring the sexual healing doesn't mean I can't stand it when Dr.Love brings the cure! My wound is a HOT HOT HOTTIE and I love thinking of her getting well laid with the partner/s of her choice. And overhearing it gives me the giggles/lusties. And she's not above winkling details of my sexploits out of me either. We're both hopeless pervs.
4. I almost hate this one, but it's true. Close friends she hates don't last, and vice versa. Acquaintances, occasional drinking buddies, okay, but close friends have to be chill with the psuedowife. This goes double for lovers, of course, and a billion times as much for potential live-ins.
5. We ignore society's shoulds, and have a grand time living our lives together in our way. Surprisingly, no lightning bolt or cosmic progress report has flattened us yet. Fuck everybody else if they can't take the joke.
6. Negotiate negotiate negotiate! It helps she lets me get away with swanning around like the diva I am, but I absolutely have to consider her feelings/how she will be affected in anything I choose to do. As I said, it hurts too much if things aren't right between us.
28 February 2008
Me and manies
I'm going to discuss something inordinately private in this post, something I regard as more a private issue than sex (obviously) or disgusting habits. I write today of religion. I'm far more open about it than I used to be, but I'm still pretty secretive about my specific beliefs when I discuss the topic. I loosely identify as pagan, or neo-pagan, or as a witch when I'm feeling slangy. In reality, I'm a bit of an animist, a pinch of discordian, a whiff of pantheist and a dab of polytheist. Everything is gods, gods are many,gods are in everyone, immanent and transcendent, eternal and instantaneous. I study a bit of Khemetic faith and ritual (called as I was by the desert's bastard son), I have partied with that venerable old fiend Dionysus, and run wild with his grape frothing my mouth. Opposing ideas coexist in uneasy truce, different pantheons shoulder each other aside.
I have inordinately strict morals but they are not yours, I can almost guarantee. I have yet to live up to my own tight standards, but I strive at it everyday. With such a gods-drenched life, I can't help but to live my faith daily. It's hard not to follow every stated aspiration with a deadpan "I'm on a mission from gods." I am.
Sometimes that mission is no more than to bring a smile, or do that one thing that may guide someone into more useful pain. Currently the mission is lengthy and arduous, but I don't feel unfairly equipped for this peak.
Of course, concluding this wee post, I feel as if I've still said nothing of the specifics of my belief, even though I've waxed on and espoused all but monotheism. In this I think of taoism, the tao that can be spoken is not the tao. And now I dash aside from all of this and have a faux hotdog, fnord.
24 February 2008
Bums love me.
I saw West Side story today, and realized that live musical theater is awesome, which is funny since I had a thing against musicals previously. Not the point of the story though.
I hung out with some very awesome people, whom previously had been friends of friends I never hung out with one on one. I heard the best theory on talent..which goes something along the lines of "talented people are so busy driving themselves harder that they don't have time to be smug or condescending." Not the point of the story though.
The point of the story is my deep attractiveness to crazy bums.
I was riding the train home and while waiting on the platform, was approached by Henry. Henry came up to my chest, and was a bandy legged, mulchy colored, toadlike man. Henry had his drool on. Henry was clutching a tall and frosty can of Steel Reserve and Henry told me about twelve times how pretty I am. I generally am not so fearful of small drunk men, and I didn't freak out or skooch away, so he proceeded to tell me about his fourteen kids and his four wives, while his nameless friend looked scared and kept edging back, as if he was embarrassed by Henry's behavior. He kept asking me if I had kids and telling me he knew I wanted a little baby. I laughed and said no, He said someone was gonna get a pretty girl like me pregnant, and I grinned and said someone is gonna be paying for an abortion then. He went into how kids take care of you forever, and I admit to cruelty here. I said ", Really? Where are your children right now? " After a few more cycles of "Not even one little baby?" the train arrived and I hopped aboard.
Peace for two stops, I popped in headphones.
Bum number two asks me someting, indicated the seat behind me. I say yeah, public seat, sit where you want, since I thought he was asking if he could sit there. He laughed, since he was asking if he could date me. (By the way, does this approach EVER work for anyone? Just curious.) I popped out my headphones and asked "as unto carbon dating? Or you want to take me out for some thai and a quick grope?" He looked uncomfortable and then proceeded to have a whacked out "conversation" with me that felt like instant messaging...as if he was responding to something three lines back all the time. When I got off the train he said it was a lovely date, and he loved my coat. I grinned and waved.
I blame all of this on the fact that I am very friendly and open. I like to engage with people, even bum people. I call it the confidence of yes- since I don't say no out of fear all the time, I am confident to talk to some pretty freaky people. This will most likely end the first time I get attacked and have to shiv someone.
I hung out with some very awesome people, whom previously had been friends of friends I never hung out with one on one. I heard the best theory on talent..which goes something along the lines of "talented people are so busy driving themselves harder that they don't have time to be smug or condescending." Not the point of the story though.
The point of the story is my deep attractiveness to crazy bums.
I was riding the train home and while waiting on the platform, was approached by Henry. Henry came up to my chest, and was a bandy legged, mulchy colored, toadlike man. Henry had his drool on. Henry was clutching a tall and frosty can of Steel Reserve and Henry told me about twelve times how pretty I am. I generally am not so fearful of small drunk men, and I didn't freak out or skooch away, so he proceeded to tell me about his fourteen kids and his four wives, while his nameless friend looked scared and kept edging back, as if he was embarrassed by Henry's behavior. He kept asking me if I had kids and telling me he knew I wanted a little baby. I laughed and said no, He said someone was gonna get a pretty girl like me pregnant, and I grinned and said someone is gonna be paying for an abortion then. He went into how kids take care of you forever, and I admit to cruelty here. I said ", Really? Where are your children right now? " After a few more cycles of "Not even one little baby?" the train arrived and I hopped aboard.
Peace for two stops, I popped in headphones.
Bum number two asks me someting, indicated the seat behind me. I say yeah, public seat, sit where you want, since I thought he was asking if he could sit there. He laughed, since he was asking if he could date me. (By the way, does this approach EVER work for anyone? Just curious.) I popped out my headphones and asked "as unto carbon dating? Or you want to take me out for some thai and a quick grope?" He looked uncomfortable and then proceeded to have a whacked out "conversation" with me that felt like instant messaging...as if he was responding to something three lines back all the time. When I got off the train he said it was a lovely date, and he loved my coat. I grinned and waved.
I blame all of this on the fact that I am very friendly and open. I like to engage with people, even bum people. I call it the confidence of yes- since I don't say no out of fear all the time, I am confident to talk to some pretty freaky people. This will most likely end the first time I get attacked and have to shiv someone.
How polyamory works for me
I am insanely in love with my boyfriend. And I deeply love his wife (in a mutual let's not play with each other's downstairs bits sort of way). I also, in yet a third way (still with no bits touching but with way more financial entanglement) love my heterolifemate. Whom is tumbling for her new bogirfriend, a very smart and adorable married couple, while also playing around on the side with a new kink playmate. This is not to mention my boyfriend's wife's boyfriend(whom I have developed a pretty serious liking for despite early reservations) and his girlfriend(jury's still out yet) or my boyfriend's wife's former boyfriend that I think is kind of cool though I really love to twit him every chance I get.
Just writing this all down sort of makes my head whirl a little, but also makes me feel a little misty with happiness. The network sort of branches and meanders well past my own knowledge of it. I'm only in a traditionally romantic relationship with one person of the whole network, but the number of other people makes me feel warm and safe and loved as well.
This is my first emotionally involved polyamorous relationship, my other experiences have been a "friend with benefits" situation with another sexual partner who was not a friend. (I am capable of very emotionally uninvolved sex.)
This is also not at all my first emotionally polyamorous relationship. Every man I have dated for the past eight years has had to share me with my heterolifemate. Everyone I've ever dated has come in behind my career and ambitions. The beautiful thing about an above-board honestly negotiated poly dating relationship is that no one is allowed assumptions, everything is discussed. So I can clearly lay out that while yes, I love person A, I also still dearly love person B, though B does not share my bed, our commitment pre-dates and influences any commitment I may make. It tastes not-so-romantic. I will not throw my world over for you, I will not run off with you, and you will never be the one and only apple of my eye. It is intoxicating though, in reality, all the lives that bump and touch and overlap.
Of course, I am very lucky and have bumbled into a very healthy network. But yeah, polyamory works for me just fine.
Just writing this all down sort of makes my head whirl a little, but also makes me feel a little misty with happiness. The network sort of branches and meanders well past my own knowledge of it. I'm only in a traditionally romantic relationship with one person of the whole network, but the number of other people makes me feel warm and safe and loved as well.
This is my first emotionally involved polyamorous relationship, my other experiences have been a "friend with benefits" situation with another sexual partner who was not a friend. (I am capable of very emotionally uninvolved sex.)
This is also not at all my first emotionally polyamorous relationship. Every man I have dated for the past eight years has had to share me with my heterolifemate. Everyone I've ever dated has come in behind my career and ambitions. The beautiful thing about an above-board honestly negotiated poly dating relationship is that no one is allowed assumptions, everything is discussed. So I can clearly lay out that while yes, I love person A, I also still dearly love person B, though B does not share my bed, our commitment pre-dates and influences any commitment I may make. It tastes not-so-romantic. I will not throw my world over for you, I will not run off with you, and you will never be the one and only apple of my eye. It is intoxicating though, in reality, all the lives that bump and touch and overlap.
Of course, I am very lucky and have bumbled into a very healthy network. But yeah, polyamory works for me just fine.
21 February 2008
Habits
Habits are a grand thing when they are the right habits. I am fortunate in being a bit of a habit driven creature, when I have settled into a routine, I'm on it. That is how things go. I keep thinking that if I could just do X every day I would be a better person is Y ways. Perfect example, pushups.
I was in an excellent (for me mentally, for the dog, overall) habit of an hour long brisk walk every morning . I waqs thinking if I could add just ten pushups every morning, post-walk, pre-shower, that I could have some excellent arm strength. Pushups were implemented, then I thought, I should do ten situps too. Then just a few bellydance moves, to smooth them out....next thing I know this is built up into a two or three hour workout that I get up EXTRA early for.
My point is that there are so many things I need to accomplish and get in the habit of, that even devoting just a leeetle teeny bit of time to each ends up ballooning into a huge schedule. The thing that sucks about this is I rebel...see previous entry about my intransigent spirit and the rebellion it causes. I end up refusing the whole lot in favor of going for a bike ride, taking a bath, reading a book all day. I'm not even the boss of me!
Unfortunately I have to be. I got my incorporation papers back to day, so I'm happy/sad. The vacation is over, I don't have time to sit around bemoaning my housebound state or sleeping blissfully 'til two in the afternoon. I have to get a bunch of other paperwork done, and get my bank account open, maybe even get a line of credit through the bank. And then I need to form some new and solid habits so I can get this shop open and running.
Because really, in the end, being effective at what I need to accomplish is a result of a steady and reliable habit, not a super-heroic swoop. Think tortoise. Trudge trudge trudge.
I was in an excellent (for me mentally, for the dog, overall) habit of an hour long brisk walk every morning . I waqs thinking if I could add just ten pushups every morning, post-walk, pre-shower, that I could have some excellent arm strength. Pushups were implemented, then I thought, I should do ten situps too. Then just a few bellydance moves, to smooth them out....next thing I know this is built up into a two or three hour workout that I get up EXTRA early for.
My point is that there are so many things I need to accomplish and get in the habit of, that even devoting just a leeetle teeny bit of time to each ends up ballooning into a huge schedule. The thing that sucks about this is I rebel...see previous entry about my intransigent spirit and the rebellion it causes. I end up refusing the whole lot in favor of going for a bike ride, taking a bath, reading a book all day. I'm not even the boss of me!
Unfortunately I have to be. I got my incorporation papers back to day, so I'm happy/sad. The vacation is over, I don't have time to sit around bemoaning my housebound state or sleeping blissfully 'til two in the afternoon. I have to get a bunch of other paperwork done, and get my bank account open, maybe even get a line of credit through the bank. And then I need to form some new and solid habits so I can get this shop open and running.
Because really, in the end, being effective at what I need to accomplish is a result of a steady and reliable habit, not a super-heroic swoop. Think tortoise. Trudge trudge trudge.
20 February 2008
The pervert rebellion
I'm a pervert. I look at what I "should" like and lust after and scoff. And I am deeply grateful.
I suppose it started when I was a young'un, and mom never really stopped me from touching myself inappropriately, to be honest she sort of encourage masturbation, thinking it would keep me out of trouble with pregnancy or STIs. That coincided with the thought I had early on that I don't like to curb my thoughts away from certain topics or areas. I let them roam free, what in my head is my own business. In fact, that may have been the first perversion, that no one can see what is going on inside of my head, I could be sitting anywhere and thinking, well, anything.
The next step was probably due to my intransigent nature. I really never have liked being told what to do, let alone what to think or like. This led me to notice how deadly similar all the images of "attractive" people are in the media. Differences that are tiny are lauded as fresh and daring, when in truth it's a change in hair color, a change in hem length. In movies it was okay to be hot for the artistic chick after she got that makeover that made her look just like everyone else. Of course, I personally resented this, I didn't look like "them" and certainly at that stage of life had not the budget or wherewithal to dress like "them."
Instead of trimming away at myself or yearning for what I couldn't do or be, I ducked out. I'll never be a unicorn, so I'm gonna be a rhino to the hilt. And the best part about this is it opens up vast vistas of experience, so many different looks and tastes and flavors. I never have to look to anyone else to check if something feels good or tastes good, I just have to check back with me. After all, I am really the only one who is going to be around me forever, guaranteed. So I keep me happy.
I suppose it started when I was a young'un, and mom never really stopped me from touching myself inappropriately, to be honest she sort of encourage masturbation, thinking it would keep me out of trouble with pregnancy or STIs. That coincided with the thought I had early on that I don't like to curb my thoughts away from certain topics or areas. I let them roam free, what in my head is my own business. In fact, that may have been the first perversion, that no one can see what is going on inside of my head, I could be sitting anywhere and thinking, well, anything.
The next step was probably due to my intransigent nature. I really never have liked being told what to do, let alone what to think or like. This led me to notice how deadly similar all the images of "attractive" people are in the media. Differences that are tiny are lauded as fresh and daring, when in truth it's a change in hair color, a change in hem length. In movies it was okay to be hot for the artistic chick after she got that makeover that made her look just like everyone else. Of course, I personally resented this, I didn't look like "them" and certainly at that stage of life had not the budget or wherewithal to dress like "them."
Instead of trimming away at myself or yearning for what I couldn't do or be, I ducked out. I'll never be a unicorn, so I'm gonna be a rhino to the hilt. And the best part about this is it opens up vast vistas of experience, so many different looks and tastes and flavors. I never have to look to anyone else to check if something feels good or tastes good, I just have to check back with me. After all, I am really the only one who is going to be around me forever, guaranteed. So I keep me happy.
19 February 2008
Monosexuality
I want to spread the gospel of the beauty that is Monosexuality. I first stumbled upon this concept when I was staggering around with a self-esteem leaking like a stab wound, screwing a bunch of different men just to reassure myself that yes, I was still attractive, yes, I could still get laid. Now, I'm all about promiscuity, for the right reasons. Clean sex, sex that isn't to boost up sagging self esteem, sex that's about sharing a transcendent religious moment with your body and your partner, I'm all for it. That kind of promiscuity isn't damaging to me. What I was engaged in was like a crutch with big angry spikes, ripping me up more than helping me along. When I had been doing this for a few years,I realized that I had been just a bit crazy for that time, getting involved with ruinous men that weren't anywhere close to worthy, and I needed to swear off.
I think that sex is a normal, vital need. As a society we're so uncomfortable with sex that we can't stomach the idea that physically and mentally handicapped people, or children, have a sex drive. It's an uncomfortable thing, but I had a sex drive before I had hormones to drive it. I figured out that touching here feels amazing, and that was that! In summary, swearing off these toxic folks did not mean it was time to go celibate! Aw Hel NO! It was time for some real me time, which is how HLM and I came up with the concept of Monosexuality, which is dating yourself.
Dating myself was the best patch in the world for my crumpled ego and just the thing for that bruised pride. The rules are as follows:
!. I must act as if I am a person I am getting to know, which was technically true, I was much changed post-divorce.
2. As I date this person, I have to be positive. No nasty, overfamiliar comments on weight, education, motivation, etc.
3. It's a date, don't fuss about expense ,calories, or any other stupid crap. It's a date. You want this other person/self to be happy and not think you have creepy issues.
And lo and behold, it was one of the most freeing experiences of my life. I love to read, and eat alone while reading. I get to see the movies I really love, not a compromise. No silent angry meals or seeing crap I don't want to see. And yes, I put out ! I learned a lot about what I wanted and needed and put myself first.
And I keep myself first as I'm dating other people now, so I'm now monopolyamorous. And it rocks.
I think that sex is a normal, vital need. As a society we're so uncomfortable with sex that we can't stomach the idea that physically and mentally handicapped people, or children, have a sex drive. It's an uncomfortable thing, but I had a sex drive before I had hormones to drive it. I figured out that touching here feels amazing, and that was that! In summary, swearing off these toxic folks did not mean it was time to go celibate! Aw Hel NO! It was time for some real me time, which is how HLM and I came up with the concept of Monosexuality, which is dating yourself.
Dating myself was the best patch in the world for my crumpled ego and just the thing for that bruised pride. The rules are as follows:
!. I must act as if I am a person I am getting to know, which was technically true, I was much changed post-divorce.
2. As I date this person, I have to be positive. No nasty, overfamiliar comments on weight, education, motivation, etc.
3. It's a date, don't fuss about expense ,calories, or any other stupid crap. It's a date. You want this other person/self to be happy and not think you have creepy issues.
And lo and behold, it was one of the most freeing experiences of my life. I love to read, and eat alone while reading. I get to see the movies I really love, not a compromise. No silent angry meals or seeing crap I don't want to see. And yes, I put out ! I learned a lot about what I wanted and needed and put myself first.
And I keep myself first as I'm dating other people now, so I'm now monopolyamorous. And it rocks.
17 February 2008
Holy Crow! I have a blog!
Noodling around and I discovered this blog that I set up ages ago and have not yet posted one thing on! I'm not feeling super wordy. I shall have to post some drawings or comics.
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