ttt

The warm fuzzies have subsided and I’m now immersed in the cold water of reality. In that vein, I’m doing a science experiment. It’s more like a torture test. I want to see how long I can go without contacting him until he contacts me. I don’t want to play games, but I have a sinking feeling: What if, all this time, what I perceived as interest, was simply convenience for him. There’s no denying we have fun together, but would he go out of his way to hang out with me? I have a feeling that he wouldn’t. And even though I know this particular species of Man requires MAJOR patience, the longer this test goes on, I’m sure I will be launched into a Piscean pit of despair that won’t shatter my already ever-broken heart, but will make me question (again): Exactly how long do I have to wait? Is there something better in store for me? Will he still be the man I want to be with when he’s finally ready? Will he still want to be with me?

In the meantime, my good friend has set me up with some sexual dynamite in the form of a Doctor with a monumental name (and reputation in bed). Let’s hope it’s enough distraction from my current self-imposed torture (with only the salvage of my dignity as the current result).

no tears for this mourner

My head wasn’t down, but it wasn’t up and I’m surprised I even noticed. As the truck turned the corner, I saw your face. I know you saw me too. It startled me a bit, but it got me thinking of how you just disappeared from my life. There was no fight, no angst, no grief. It just felt good. Natural, normal. Does that make our friendship any less important? Maybe it was just what I needed at the time. We needed each other. Or, I needed you. It was a hard time for me and you were there. Then you were having a hard time too. And I tried to be there for you. But you pushed me away. I persevered knowing you needed a friend, but in the end, you shut me out. You let your problems engross you, turn you into someone I no longer knew. And it was exhausting, always saying the same things, trying to be supportive, when it was always about you. And I didn’t ask for much. At least I think I didn’t. Just someone who thought about me first once in a blue moon to assure me I was part of the friendship too. But I waited, and it became more and more frustrating. I finally realized I was wasting energy. And maybe that’s why it doesn’t feel bad. Maybe I mourned the demise of our friendship before it happened, and that’s why I don’t feel sad. Maybe deep down I know we’ll be friends again when we’re both ready and that’s why I don’t feel sad. Whatever it is, that glimpse of you the other day made me think; Am I the only mourner at this funeral that didn’t cry?

waiting heart

you let me use your toothbrush, you wanted to cuddle, you held my hand, I've never seen you so happy, grinning like a clown all night. what a weekend. I enjoyed every minute with you, and I'm pretty sure you did too. Have we just been making bad decisions, hard decisions, wrong decisions all along to get us here, where we know better and can cherish what we have, finally, after eight years? I don't know, but I'm scared and confused, basking in the glow of the last couple of days, not brave enough to think about what might be next. Because, everytime this happens, you pull back and I'm crushed again. So, I want more, but I'll wait, because I think deep down we both know, we just don't know when, and it might take more time, but I think my heart's been waiting. It can wait a little longer. (I hope).

stampede hazards

Our fair city turns into a 10 day rawkus raising, shit-disturbing, mardi gras-esque party during July. As many people look forward to it as those who dread it. Stampede is undoubtedly, a time where getting completely wasted, or being completely shitfaced at any time of the day is somehow acceptable (and for no reason whatsoever, which makes it far superior to Xmas). As are many things that wouldn’t be accepted hors de la ‘pede. I have decided to list some hazards that might befall a new (or seasoned), Stampede goer, in order to improve on this year’s performance and perhaps prevent some mishaps next year. In no particular order:

Poma: This is a pancake induced coma. You can literally eat a pancake at all hours of the day, everyday. They even have an app for this (flapjack finder).

Regrettable photos: Yes, it’s quite like Halloween, you pretty much have a license to dress like a slut. I’m convinced this influences behaviour slightly (nothing at all to do with the copious amounts of booze). You might think it would be awesome to slide around a poll (a common installation in bars in this town), kiss another girl, pose provocatively, flash your gazungas, shotgun/kegstand/chug beers, whilst your bits are half covered and you have sloppy drunk face. Start un-tagging yourself now.

UDI’s: These are unidentified drunken injuries. Most gals end up looking like domestic abuse victims by the end of it. A tip: flip flops are never acceptable drinking footwear. Especially when everyone else is boot stompin’ around in their cowboy boots. Just give in, dress like a cowgirl, wear those boots out. Your tootsies (and your shins) will thank you. This precaution, however, doesn’t prevent random hand burns, scratches, accidental head butts, flying elbows, or the like. Just drink that pain away.

Unsightly hair/skin: Cowboy hats don’t just add to the atmosphere, they shield your face and scalp from the burning sun that always befalls us during Stampede. Even if you think you’ll be inside some dirty tent drinking all day/night, you never know. Plus, it hides sweaty, yucky hair that you inevitably get after two-stepping yourself into a stupor.

Beer goggles: Of course, this could befall you anytime of the year. But Stampede has a more dubious aspect—hoards of men/boys dressed like cowboys. And cowboys are hot—the real ones at least. Have you seen the cowboy you are making out with in his normal duds, without his hat on? He could be bald and wear sweatpants all the time. Ugh. Of course, you may love ‘em and leave him standing on the dance floor. Then you’ll never have to know. No harm no foul. There are no rules during Stampede.

Dating: Just don’t do it. You will inevitably make out with someone else (in front of him or not), not return his texts, regret he showed up at the same bar as you because you just spotted a hot barn hand/cowboy/bull rider—real or faux (*see Beer goggles above); and it’s all over. Unless it’s a long term relationship, break it off before stampede. You will both benefit.

Regrettable texts/phone calls: Yes, this could happen at any time of the year/day/month. But more likely to happen during stampede and more likely to happen with increased frequency. Cause you might be feeling guilty, or horny, or lovey, or angry with somebody and why not have the instant gratification of letting them know right away. However, this could turn into a longer term habit during stampede, lasting several days and the prolonged effect can increase the inevitable after stampede guilt spiral (*see Dating to avoid this).

Getting lost: Even if you don’t know where you live, Taxi drivers most likely do. Just flash your license, or mumble the area and point vaguely. They’re used to it, call it an occupational hazard. If you get separated from your group, most likely you can take up with some randoms if you don’t feel like going home, they’re too drunk to know you’re not Jill.

Gut rot: Burgers, coleslaw, deep fried mac and cheese, beef on a bun, pancakes, corndogs, burgers, pizza, burgers, macaroni salad, pancakes, beef on a stick, beef jerky, sausages, burgers, pancakes, deep fried mac and cheese, pizza, burgers, pancakes, bacon. All washed down with beer and cesars. Pretty much the recipe for very bizarre gut happenings like ulcers, acid reflux, diarrhea (aka beer shits), constipation, vomiting and other un-named issues. Yuck—at least everyone is in the same boat.

Extreme exhaustion: Just one more day? You can do it. No matter that you’ve been drinking all day for the last 5 days. With one break in-between the 3 straight days before. Alcoholics do it every day. Therefore, you should be able to. Been up all night getting it on with your own personal cowboy? You’re just lucky! Got the shakes? That’s just withdrawal. Pour yourself a cesar and get back on the bus. Naps? That’s for pussies. Blisters from your boots? Drink that pain away. This is a marathon not a sprint. And guaranteed you will dream about your bed all day for two weeks after it’s all over. If you don’t need to take to it because you’re deathly ill. It’s just the name of the game.

scatterbrain

I can’t seem to get my thoughts together today. They’re flitting all over the place. It mirrors my attempt to get to work today, which was a disaster to say the least. Couldn’t decide what time to get up, kept hitting the snooze button, couldn’t decide what to wear, started to make my bed and realized I didn’t have time, insisted on making breakfast even though I didn’t have time, almost ran out of gas, had to travel AWAY from work to fill up and back around. Got to work, realized I did not want to be there, emails that were work related angered me, like “why are you bugging me today?”, got a cute/dirty message from my Australian lover man, made me happy/laugh hysterically, had coffee, couldn’t decide on a snack, bought an egg, had an apple, but the apple wasn’t the right choice. Brought lunch (another thing I didn’t really have time for), but everyone was going out and I was alone and ate it too fast and then was bored. Decided to call my sis, went outside, but then thought it was too hot, then called my friend while waiting for my sis to call me back, found out he’s wanted by the police, slashed his ex girlfriends tires and had an altercation involving a bat and a knife with her new boyfriend, than ran away, and when the police showed up he stayed in his house. He said he was sad, and has been since his best friend killed himself and was thinking about doing the same thing. I just felt lost, I knew my words wouldn’t have an impact on his mindset. I just told him I cared about him, and I’d drive him to turn himself in if he wanted. When I finally talked to my sis, I was on the verge of tears and couldn’t figure out why. I know I miss her, but I usually don’t cry about this, and she’s home next week. But I know when she’s home, it’ll be go go go and I’ll be lucky to spend time with her. I bought myself a puffed wheat square to feel better. I just ate a piece of the plastic it’s wrapped in. Then my ex asked for a spanking for his birthday after I wished him a happy birthday. Currently using a paper clip to hold my hair up as it/ I am a mess. Is it 4 pm yet? I need a drink, but wondering if that is what got me this way in the first place. Oy vey.

giddyup

Perception is 9/10ths of the law. Or something like that. The way I see things right now, there’s a stable full of boys for me to peruse. This doesn’t mean they’re all thoroughbreds, or a good ride, or haven’t bucked me off once or twice, but they’re still hanging out in the stable, and it’s up to me when I want to visit and who I might take a ride with. (Apologies for the extremely ponoriffic analogy).

The contenders:

Tall, dark, and handsome.

Met him through a friend who decided he was too young for her, he’s a talented chef, and on the first ride I was impressed. He was well dressed, polite, attentive, and had the most intriguing eyes. To top it off, my friends loved him. That wore off quite quickly after some less than impressive behaviour. The last time we went out, he didn’t even get out of his car to get me, he just waited outside and texted me. It was raining. He had 3 hours of sleep and was hungover. Any excitement for the date was quickly quashed from the get go. He’s gonna have to really work to impress me now.

Mysterious Blonde

Met him at beer fest, after mistaking him for a homosexual. Since then, he’s sent some extremely passive aggressive texts, where he’s ‘just wondering what you’re up to’. This makes arranging a date extremely frustrating. If you want to have a drink with me, ask me. If the time/day doesn’t work for me, I’ll suggest a new one. I don’t like beating around the bush. Which I told him. Then he asked me to make out with him (surprising me with his directness). Which led to a sloppy session, me feeling used, and him not man enough to contact me to clear the air. There’s been some tenuous steps to contact me since then, but all, disgustingly passive aggressive. This one might linger in the stable forever.

The ‘Young One’

We’ve had some great correspondence. He’s a good writer and attentive to responding to the specific points in emails while engaging me at the same time. But I usually don’t do younger. It’s hard enough with all of the man-boys out there (See 'Messed up' ex, below). But the other two are floundering, and I’m intrigued. TBD.

The Outliers:

The ‘friend’

He’s put the moves on me more than once. But we have a really good time together and I have told him very directly several times that we’re just friends. We’ve hanging out a lot lately, and he knows a lot of other hip horses. However, he doesn’t seem to play well with my horses, which indicates a bit of jealousy to me. Do platonic friendships ever really work out? I hope so in this case ‘cause I really like this one (as a friend).

The 'messed up' ex

Heard through some friends that he’s really on the party train right now, and this makes him a hypocrite for negatively branding me the same way and letting everyone think he was so hard done by me when we broke up. We have seen each other randomly since January and had a really nice time together. So nice, in fact, that I said maybe we should give it another go. I'd thought we'd both got the buck out of us over time. I did appreciate his honesty in telling me that I was the only girlfriend he ever had and he feels he hasn’t had time to experience other girls. But judging by the way he's going about it, and his newfound resistance to growing up, he'll probably end up with a really young really flighty horse and it's probably better this way. Basically, he ran away from the stable (which he's done before, obviously), but who knows, he might come back, and I may or may not be ready to go for another ride.

Then there’s the wild horses I haven’t even met yet . And that doesn’t make me forsake the stable, it just makes sure I have enough ammo to be discerning. I wanna make sure I'm getting a good ride before I buy the horse (and the hay too!!). Or, maybe i'll decide to revert to my lone rider status. Whatever the case, the wild west is rockin' right now.

mind spaces

they exist. your brain is cluttered with junk; self loathing, bad relationships, stress at work or with family. The rainstorm rages and you can't see two feet in front of you. Then suddenly- whether it's active or passive, the debris clears. Suddenly the path clears. You're no longer muddling through, you can see. Left and right: opportunities. For friendship, relationships, success. Why should you be so lucky to have clear skies? You step tenously at first, and then you realize that this is your time. Don't spend it wondering or wishing. Spend it exploring, enjoying. And the icing on the cake? Wondering why it took so long, was frought with struggle. But being able to realize the path brought you to the destination, and you actually have the foresight to realize you're here.
And enjoy.

Sent from my iPhone