Blue Dress Diaries 1- In Which It Begins

So, after three years and more of this tumultuous on again, off again relationship, I have found myself a single gal.  Am I ready to start dating again?  Most likely not, but the best cure for an old love is a new one, and Dr. Phil talks about earning your way out of relationships, and I certainly did that with this one.  Let my therapist (and my sister, who seems to take an unhealthy amount of interest in whose beds my boots are under) worry about that.  You jump off then you build wings, or some optimistic bullshit like that, ala Ray Bradbury.

Great guy, gonna love him til I die, but sayonara, baby.  Vaya con dios, see ya on the other side.

An interesting thing about the universe is how when you are open to things, things come to you.  Case in point- I woke up one morning with a wild hair and The Wheel of Fortune, and I decided it was time for me to actually do something about wanting to be in a relationship.  In the next three weeks, I went on dates with six different men.  Two of them I actively sought out by placing an ad on a questionable website.  250 distinct emails later (minus the 10% for spam one of the dates said I had to give), not a single cock pic, and I had it narrowed down to two.  A cock pic might have helped, guys.  The other four were happenstance, random chance, a matter of timing, I guess, and you coulda knocked me over with a feather.  I would not have said there were even six single men in Denver, let alone six who would be interested in me, and me in them.  More to come, I am sure, but that’s letting the carriage run right over the horse and not really here nor there, for now.

Some funny shit has happened to me in the past few weeks, and if I don’t save it for posterity, I will regret it later.  So, I announce- The Blue Dress Diaries.

Original name?  Not so much.  I’m okay with that.

I have a great blue dress.  It’s cerulean, to be exact, a wrap dress that shows off my good bits and goes far in forgiving my worst.  The color is beautiful on summer skin, and my Mohican blood gives me that all year long.  It also gives me a propensity to diabetes and alcoholism, so let me take what pleasure I can from it.  It’s all occasion, dressy enough if a first date springs for a nice dinner, but casual enough to not be out of place for afternoon coffee.  Two dates in, it dawned on me that instead of freaking out about what to wear, I could ease my anxiety a great deal by just wearing the same gorgeous dress on every first date I have til I’ve had my last, a fat bulge bursts out of it, or it falls apart.  I’m hoping one of those happens before the others, because getting fat(ter) is not gonna help my chances any, and I don’t want it to be long enough for the thing to become rags.  I don’t think there are batteries enough in the world.

And because I’m me, and on the theory that I might be a writer, and if I am not letting it all hang out all over the place it festers and rots in my brain, I decided to write about it all.

I have to say, I do not think a woman needs a man to be complete, nor do I feel incomplete without one.  I also think, though, that it is complete bullshit, and a great disservice to single people of both genders, that our society teaches that admitting you would rather be with someone than not makes you weak, or unfulfilled, or somehow less of a person.  I am strong, with a very full life, which I mostly love, at least today, and I have great people in it.

Eventually, though, I would like to have (another) husband, and I am not going to feel bad about that just because those bitches fucked their way across New York City  for all those years.  And PS, they all ended up married, or in a monogamous long term relationship, at least.  I’m a great wife.  I cook like mutha’ fuckin’ riot, I’m not jealous or possessive, would prefer to have sex twice a day, and while I like to snuggle and be affectionate, I feel no need to be attached to my man’s hip.   I have a metric ton of issues, too, but I believe love covers a multitude of sins.  I don’t think it’s wrong to want to love someone, to want them to love you back.

The End of an Era

Really? We have spent the last three and better years in and out of love and in between and you can't even spare me 10 minutes to answer an email that was VERY important to me? Funny how you show right up, ready to play the knight in shining armor when I don't ask or want you to, but you have never managed, not even once, to be there for me in any form when it actually mattered. I never ask you for anything, and this is why. You think you are not mean because you don't hit, but you are and I have always forgiven you everything, but not this. You are relegated to acquaintance only.

And go fuck yourself.

Those Three Little Words

He breaks me, over and over, with those three little words.

I miss you.

That's it. That is all that was on the screen of my cell phone. Nothing earth shattering, nothing life changing, nothing I didn't already know, but there it was, and can someone tell me why those words hurt just as much, no, even more than the harsher ones?

Back in Black

I haven't been hanging out here too much.

I miss S a lot, so much it hurts like that phantom ache you supposedly get when you lose a limb. He mattered that much to me.

Bound is bound, he would say. And so it is.

I'm gonna be okay. But I don't have to enjoy the trip from quivering, aching, senseless pile to okay.

For the record, I would do it all over again. Every last bit. I didn't get to keep it, but I had love.

Love in the Time of Cholera

Riddle me this - I am extremely lonely sometimes, although usually "alone" is my preferred state of being, and should not be confused with "lonely". Even so, sometimes it would be good to have adult conversations, and since one day I want to be married (again) and be someone's wife (again), at some point I will have to meet that someone, and we shall have to date, I suppose, in order to get there.

A man is calling me, and sending me text messages, trying to lure me out with the offer of sushi. He's funny, and we have a lot of common interests, and I should like him. Which is pretty much the story of my dating life, not much caring for the ones I "should," and falling head over heels for the ones that I "shouldn't."

And trust me, if a man likes me, there is about a 99% chance that I will not like him at all, most likely because I wonder what is so wrong with him that he finds me attractive.

I don't want to go out with him. This would be date number three, and I practically bolted out of his car at the end of date number two, because I simply could not stand the thought of his kissing me. Why? There is nothing wrong with him. There is, however, something wrong with me, I think.

This doesn't need to be a tarot blog, I have one of those, but tarot is so often my touchstone, and so often illuminating to me. I pulled a single card from my Anna K deck, asking why do I not want to take his calls? The answer - the Seven of Swords. For some reason, and it may be his fault, or it may just be something inside of me, I do not find him to be someone I can trust. Even worse than that, I see a despicable creature, a thief of valued things from unsuspectings, and the image makes my skin crawl, much like the thought of kissing this man does.

I suppose it is obvious that I do not need to be dating this guy, if for no other reason than I can't respect someone I see this way. It may be my own deep seated trust issues, or my intuition may be reacting to something about him, but I simply do not trust him, and I am loathe to put myself in a position of vulnerability with him. The thing is, though, I can't tell if it's because I am so damaged, or because I am actually picking up danger signs. Not feeling like you are able to trust yourself is awful, crippling, even.

Here's another rub - I have zero physical attraction for him, and that makes me feel so shallow. Shouldn't I be past all of that? I certainly don't care to be judged on the basis of my looks, so why would I do that to another person? And it's not like he's ugly, or even that I have a "type" I am looking for.

My head hurts and I don't want to go through the rigmarole of dating, but I do so much want to be in love and be loved. It's stinky.







Update - ARGH!

So, effectively dodging him for the past couple hours, I finally got wrangled into a phone conversation that essentially was about how much he liked me, and how he fully expected that I was going to be sleeping with him this weekend. Go me, and go my intuition. I am well aware that tv and movies make it look like singles today are all about the casual sex, but I am not, and it's not going to be a good road for me to follow. And what kind of ass even says that to a lady? Signing off, disgusted with men, and life in general, at the moment...