Hey, Stalker.

I notice that my stalker is using proxies to go around her block. This is for her.
My Stalker, Lilith

Dear “Lilith”,

The best thing you can do to prevent your own damned feelings from being hurt is

Stay off my blog.

You came here via proxy because I blocked you. My software shows very clearly that the originating IP is from Dundee. Dumbass, stop going around the blocks. And stop worrying about my life. Worry about all those men you have your kids calling “daddy” instead. I can give you the number to a good counselor1, so you can get over me. You spend way too much time staring at my face.

Have a great day and fuck all the way off.

Love,
The Woman you can’t get enough of. 😘

P.S.
If you subscribe by email you get all my best stuff delivered right to your inbox! You’re welcome.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. She said she wouldn’t see you, but she can refer you to the appropriate person for your particular disorder. []

I Love Roller Coasters

Firstly, I want to say hello to my stalkers. I hope they had a nice weekend and didn’t worry about my sex life too much1

Moving on.

I made it to Cedar Point on Saturday. It was supposed to be a date, but he changed all the rules. So, it ended up just being a group of us hanging out at an amusement park.

Which ended up suiting me just fine, btw.

I hung out with dude’s brother’s girlfriend and just pretended I was there alone (basically). It really didn’t matter to me. I wanted to ride roller coasters and that’s exactly what I did. Sometimes I even disappeared on my own for a while. I had a blast any way you look at it. My favorite coaster is still The Raptor, but I thoroughly enjoyed Valravn. That one was almost scary. I loved it.

As far as dude? I wasn’t feeling him after about half an hour in the car. He had this bright idea that I’m made of money and that pissed me off. When we were together I paid for everything. He was completely out of his gourd thinking that still applied. No, motherfucker, you’re not my man and I refuse to give you money.

At the end – after I’d been off on my own – he had the audacity to ask me to pay for a hotel room. Um… that did not happen. I said 1) I didn’t have the money2 and 2) I wasn’t feeling him. I wanted to go home. I had better things to do there. And then he got pissed.

On the way home he blasted the cold air AND left the back windows open. When I tried to put some heat on he’d change it back. It was like 60 and I get cold too easily. He was punishing me for not wanting to fuck him. I suffered with some dignity and stopped trying to be warm 30 minutes into a 2 hour ride. But by the end I was livid.

When we got to my car3 this dumbass decides to ask me to hang out for a while. I literally laughed at him.

“I’m going home to get warm. Bye.”

Then I got in my car. I thought we’d have had fun together. We’d gone to Cedar Point every summer while we were together. We had lots of laughs. But he’s gotten old and boring. He complained too much and he was just no fun at all.

It probably had something to do with where my mind is right now4. I expected that at least our friendship would be something. But, as per usual nowadays, the mofo just wanted laid. I just don’t want hookups anymore. And his attitude? Nope. I don’t want to do it if that’s all there is to it. I’ve decided to leave that part of my life in the past where it belongs. There’s nothing there for me anymore.

But I did have a shit ton of fun. Not going to lie. I love roller coasters more than sex. Well, mostly… At any rate I have no problems with the lines because the adrenaline rush is too good. I sit in the front for maximum effect. And I happily scream. If I have the opportunity I’m all for it.

Anyway, since the 3rd I have had some great days. I went to Canton to see their fireworks; then we did the 4th at a lake; the 5th was kind of boring but fun and then the weekend kicked off awesomely. I didn’t like the ride home from the park, but that was just a hiccup. We went back to the lake yesterday5 and had more fun.

Gotta say this summer has been pretty fun so far, stalkers. I hope you’re finding something better to do with yourself now.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. I had a wonderful fee days starting on the 4th. Thanks for watching. []
  2. A hotel in Sandusky in the summer on a Saturday? Get the fuck out. []
  3. I still had 30 more minutes to drive. []
  4. I almost didn’t even go because of what else is going on, but decided the park is too much fun. Totally worth it. []
  5. We have a bunch of lakes around here and whenever we discuss going to one we always say “we went to THE lake. As if whichever one we went to was the only one. Yes, we ask “which one?” []

Funny Games Men Play

Men tend to mark what they consider to be their “territory” in an interesting variety of ways. Maybe it’s a sock thrown in the corner. Or the toilet seat left up just before they leave. A shoe in a room where it shouldn’t be. Riding shotgun and leaving the seat pushed all the way back. I’ve seen it all. There used to be a time when I’d go right behind a man and clean up anything he may have left behind. I don’t always need to be reminded of their presence1. It only happens when I’m single and only by men who think they have some kind of claim to my attention.

Before Lucifer and I moved in together he left behind some doo-dad he welded, a sock and a shirt. That was what I found in my room. When he lived there he went from room to room to make sure to mark his presence. He couldn’t very well piss in a corner of the room – so he left an item of clothing clearly showing a man had been there. I honestly thought it was cute at the time. I wasn’t exclusive with him ever in our relationship, but I also respected his presence in my bed2. He didn’t even try to be slick about it. I could assume that it was his way of making sure he came back, but he was too alpha for that shit. I was his.

Items left willy-nilly are the best stories. Why is that sock in that room? Well, obviously someone was getting comfortable enough to begin to disrobe. Why hasn’t that bed been slept in? Probably because there’s another bed getting the attention. Maybe that spot on the couch isn’t really a spot, but an arranged scene. There are a myriad of ways to look at a room and guess the story of it. Sometimes the obvious isn’t so obvious. Sometimes the obvious is a lie. I walk into a room in which I’ve been a hundred times and can tell when 1 thing has been moved. I see when someone else has been in my space. I don’t miss a beat. Men who are normally oblivious are surprisingly adept at being able to tell when another man has been in his spot.

Now that I’m officially very single, there are a number of folks who believe they can lay claim to my time and space regardless of what I want. Even when they don’t actually come into the house, they make an attempt to leave their mark. I can see what’s happening. I can see all the available evidence. And I laugh. Because in the end none of them win. None of them really matter past this summer. I’m not even sure they matter for the summer.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter who comes through trying to mark their territory. It doesn’t matter where they leave their things or lay their heads. There are liars amongst these gentlemen and I’m no keeper of secrets. Not anymore. Be cautious with me now, because I have no loyalties to any of them. Friend or foe, I don’t care. It’s becoming a game for me. Who wants who to see they’ve been in my sphere? Who thinks I’m truly theirs? Who believes me to be the same person I was 6 months ago? I’ve lost interest in almost all of them, but do they know it? None of them are interesting enough to actually have the juice to mark me. These men who have no interest in me outside of their own egos and I know that. As such I don’t care about them.

Anyway, my future ex-boyfriend is still in Georgia. I’m saving the good stuff for him.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. And neither does the person that might find these little tidbits. []
  2. Until it was no longer there. Then all bets were off. []

C’est la vie

There are some things that I can do that I know will help me soothe my ego pretty quickly. None of them are healthy, but they all work to some extent. The mindset behind them must be one of those defensive mechanisms I keep hearing about. My feelings got hurt. I’m sick of my feelings being hurt. So, my demon took control for a while. She’s sick of the bullshit too. I knew what to do and off I went to do it. There was one bad consequence to this, but that consequence means nothing to me if I can finally get back to myself for a while.

I reached out to my ex-ex-ex. Yes, that one. The love of my life and also my tormentor for years. The reason I have no faith in monogamy. The reason for the scar on the back of my neck. But it’s been 25 years and a lot has changed with both of us. And I’ve never held a grudge. Or been known to make good decisions when I let the bad part of me come to the surface. I went to see him the other night. And we reminisced as we are wont to do. Then we smoked1 as we are wont to do. Then we found a private spot and, well, he helped me release some stress.

It was nice. I’m not going to lie. Being with someone who knows you as well as you know yourself is something else. Remove the violence from our relationship and we were a great couple. He knows every dark secret about me. He knows what it’s like to face me when I’ve lost control. He knows what it’s like to be with me when I’m sorry for losing control. He knows my favorite foods, my favorite color and my darkest fear. He loves to hear me talk about things about which I’m passionate. He stimulates all my passions – politics, art, writing. We have the same sense of humor. We were so in love with each other that we became each other in a way. And that has stuck after all these years. We made each other. Bad and good. We did this to each other.

I like to talk to him when I’m feeling like a piece of shit. He knows exactly how to calm me down. Which is hilarious because when we were together all he did was fire me up. The other day I was done. Just done. I couldn’t take it anymore. I was on the verge of committing murder2. But then I saw him standing in the driveway. Then he walked over to my car and opened my door. Then I forgot why I was pissed and who I was pissed at. Then I smiled. Then he told a stupid joke. I laughed. It was awkward for about 5 seconds. Then it was like, excuse the clichĂ©, putting a warm blanket around me. He’s older, of course, fatter and with a gray beard. But, to me, he looks just like he did when I was in love with him all those years ago.

This is the guy by which I judge all my other partners. I want what he gave me without the violence. It’s always without the violence, don’t worry. He’s tall, strong, confident and quiet. But he’s dangerous as well. His quiet demeanor is hiding a serious dark side. That’s the side I don’t like. That’s the side that made me run like hell all those years ago. That’s the reason we could never be together again no matter how many times we said we missed each other.

But little reunions like this are nice. We don’t have to worry about how we’ll react in a conflict. There’s no time for conflict. Just enough time for laughs, memories and sex. Then we part ways. At some point he will annoy me or I will annoy him and all those feelings will come back. Then we’ll be nasty to each other. Then we’ll make up. Because we still haven’t figured out how to make it work. We still revert to our 1990s selves. I know better than to want to be back with him specifically. That pairing will have to wait until our next lives. We’ve done this a few times through the years. Always finding our way back to each other; always falling away from each other.

The last time I saw him I wasn’t single yet. I was just stepping out on TheMan while TheMan was living with his first mistress. He came over for some tequila, a card game and some smoke. He spent the night and then off he went. That was in 2009 I think. Or early 2010. I don’t remember. I didn’t keep track. Anyway, I’m totally single now and so it’s a bit different. This time he’s blowing up my phone. He wants to see me again. Am I free this weekend? What are my plans? Can we catch up more when we have more time?

Um, well, this isn’t what I was expecting when I reached out. I was expecting that we’d leave each other alone again. But something is different now. He wants to talk on the phone all the time. Texting isn’t good enough. He wants to hear my voice. He wants to, as he puts it, “whisper sweet nothings in your ear.” So, so corny. But the type of thing he said to me all the time when we were together. I got a good laugh at that. I wish. Oh, how I wish.

But there’s one obstacle that can never be overcome in this lifetime. The violence. The pain. The trauma of all the fights with him and his many, many side chicks. There was the stripping of my confidence. The rearrangement of my mind. The way he molded me to be afraid of relationships, to believe monogamy is a game we shouldn’t play, to believe my best asset is between my legs, and to believe that real love is for people in the movies and books. The way he made me so angry that I took revenge on every guy who liked me for six and a half fucking years. My life with him shaped the entirety of my adult romantic life. He helped make me this way. And this way is broken. That can’t be overcome. I just can’t remove that from my life. I have many, many scars from my time with him. I’m reminded of that every single day.

So, why would I look for a version of him for a partner? Because of the way he loved me. I know it was dysfunctional and wrong. But he loved me with all of his heart; the best way he could. I was his ultimate partner. I was his jewel. He showed me off, he claimed me, he made sure I was safe3, he took the time to listen and learn, he was in my head and let me inside his. I keep looking for someone who will take the time to get to know me at least half as well as he does. Not past tense. A partner who is strong enough to handle my emotional side – the out-of-control side. I keep looking for someone who will ask me questions and actually hear the answers. But so far no luck.

Lucifer was a lot like him – even in his abuse. Except Lucifer didn’t use violence. He was better at getting inside my head and scrambling every damned thing I thought I knew. Still, he got to know me enough to be able to use me against myself. He loved the way I talked about politics. He said my intelligence turned him on4. He encouraged my artistic side. And then there was his physical size and confidence. They are both very alpha without being loud about it. Lucifer wouldn’t let anyone else hurt me either. That was part of his charm to me. His strength. Ultimately, he was just really good at worming his way inside and using all of that stuff as weapons. Better even than I. The motherfucker is a master, is what I’m saying. I’m well rid of him even if sometimes I wish…

Because I’m wishing for Bobby still. But not him. An alternate version of him that is exactly like him but without the history and the violence. He’s got a good job, he’s got custody of his children, he’s funny, he’s charming… He took the time to get to know me. I was worth the effort to him. He loved every fucked up part of me. He saw it all and didn’t back down from it. He wasn’t afraid to love me. He wasn’t afraid of me. And, believe me, my demon never went to sleep back then. He enjoyed going out with me so I could get tipsy and have my way with him. Like Lucifer, when we went out he was like a sentry at my back. I had all the fun I could handle with my personal bodyguard at my side. Like Lucifer5, if some creeper started behaving badly then he’d take care of the problem. The issue was dealt with immediately. I liked that. I liked all of it.

I told him once that I wish he’d turned over a new leaf when we were young. Then we could get back together and maybe have a sort of happy life. But that period is behind us and it’s too late for us. I told him that. No matter what else happens between us, our life together has been over for a very long time. No going back.

Our time together was the best time of his life. He wishes he could go back to then and start everything again. I wondered how many lives we’ve spent trying to be a forever couple. Have we ever been? He doesn’t believe in reincarnation, so that didn’t make any kind of difference to him. He’d told me it would be different if I was single6. We’d be able to have adventures again. “No,” I told him. “We’re not meant for that this time. We have to wait and try again in our next life.” I believe in that. I believe that we see each other in every life. I believe our souls are entwined. No one can convince me otherwise. He laughs at me for my new age thinking. “I love the way you think,” he tells me. He doesn’t agree with me. But he likes the way I process my information. He likes the way I explain my mind to him. He gets me in ways that no one else has ever even tried.

Friendship with him probably isn’t healthy. It’s never really just hanging out. It’s never really just sitting around talking about old times. We’re like opposing magnets – when we get too close to each other we smash against each other. He still loves me the same way I still love him. I am also the love of his life. I’m still very important to him. When I call he will always pick up the phone. When I need him to make it just a little bit better he will always say yes. I’m Jen. And he’s Bobby. And that’s the way it’s always been.

Which would be absolutely perfect for me. Except for that darkness that hangs over the both of us. Not in this lifetime.

He touches my hair, his fingers trying hard to make it through my tangled mess. He likes me with long hair7. He likes the way my hair smells. “Have you always been this short?” He asks me that every time. It’s a running joke at this time.

“No, my babies made me shorter.” We laugh. He hugs me. I get in my car and make my way out of the parking lot. Then he calls me. He wants to talk to me on my way home. I’m glad. He tells me he’s watching me as I’m driving up the street. He watches me until he can’t anymore. That made me smile. There is one person8 I know loves me and always has. That’s him.

I’m Jen and he’s Bobby and we’ll always be like this with each other. Just close enough to enjoy the way we are together but far enough away that we’ll always be apart.

C’est la vie.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. Weed. []
  2. Not really. This is what’s known as hyperbole:
    noun
    exaggerated statements or claims not meant to be taken literally.
    synonyms:exaggeration, overstatement, magnification, embroidery, embellishment, excess, overkill, rhetoric; []
  3. He could hit me, but absolutely no one else could even say a harsh word to me. []
  4. I think I might believe that considering what type of woman he prefers and our long trip to the casino. []
  5. Or is it the other way around? []
  6. I was married at the time. []
  7. It was always short when we were together. []
  8. Aside from my blood and friends. []

“She Wins”

I’m putting her away deep in a box I constructed long ago. She doesn’t want to go back. She’s kicking and screaming and throwing a total fit. But she’s not required anymore. She’s not useful and all she does is make me cry.

It’s not my demon. No, ultimately, she’s been right every time. I designed her to protect my most tender spots and she’s tried. I thought I wanted her gone. But it’s better for the other part to go away.

The part that loves and cares too strongly. The part that still has hope that this isn’t really my life. She’s unrealistic, immature and soft. Too soft. These last two years have been mostly miserable – because she hoped for a different outcome. She’s always hoping. But my life is not supposed to have what she needs. I see that now. So, she goes back.

It’s hard. It hurts. Of course it does. There were a few times when I have been ecstatic about my life. But those are off moments. And they make it worse when reality comes crashing in. I think I deserve something good, but that’s not in my cards. I don’t even want to try anymore. I just want to move forward and forget this childish nonsense in my head.

I want the chaos to calm. That’s not some kind of threat to hurt myself. But it’s also a hope that I don’t hurt myself even more. My self-destruction is more subtle; slow. I likened it today to someone cutting themselves – except I do it to my mind. I find the most inventive ways to do it, too. Not alcohol or drugs or other overt ways. Those are easy to spot. People get frustrated with me because they don’t get it. Because I look ok. I sound ok. I’m really just an undercover nutter.

I’m afraid to try again. I’d forgotten and then refused to acknowledge that this is it for me. Too late. I’ve fully embraced the curse of my mother’s line. Being someone other isn’t possible for me. Not anymore.

So, I’m going against everything my therapist suggests. She means well, I know. But I don’t think she fully gets what I mean when I tell her these things. Loving myself, right now, means letting go of the part that hurts. I don’t need her anymore. I need the fierce, bitchy part of me more than anything.

It’s taking some time, but I’ve found a way to hurry it along. Wounds need to scar over and that scar tissue needs to be thick. With every hurt feeling I get a little cooler. More aloof. Less concerned with the tender feelings of others. More cruel. I will be sweet as anything, but woe to the person who might fall in love with me. I’ll love my family and friends forever. Everyone else can fuck themselves.

This is probably not good for people who are in the habit manipulating and controlling me. I’ve stopped pretending around Millie – which is a big step. I won’t ask for respect anymore. These mofos are used to using me for whatever. Everyone who thinks I am the person I allowed TheMan to mold me has been a little shocked. I don’t care anymore. The shin-kicking portion of this shit show is over. I’m done with the giving and getting. And I’m done bowing to my betters. I’m done worrying about some white trash skanks as if they mean anything to my life. I can’t say I’m done with the rage, though. The demon that thrives on that rage?

She wins.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Had a Date Last Night

So, I finally went on a date last night. I decided it was time because absolutely nothing else is working. I’m just so tired of not doing anything because someone’s tender fucking feelings are going to get hurt. Time to worry about my own feelings1. He texted me yesterday asking about when we can get together. I decided that last night was the perfect time to do it.

It’s not some dude off a dating site though. I keep trying to meet these bozos, but they think I should come to their house to “watch movies”. Man, gtfo with that shit. I say “no” to that every time. Most of those guys know what’s up then and decide to cut contact. A couple of them have persisted. The last two standing sent me either full nudes or partial nudes to get me to meet up with them. I hate to break it to you, guys, but you’re penis is not all that attractive. I don’t care about that nonsense. And I’m certainly not sending nudes back. Not worth the effort.

“I’m sorry. It’s way too early for this nonsense. How’s about asking me how I am or, I dunno, what my favorite color is? Warm me up. Put in some effort. Better luck next time.”

I’ve known last night’s date for 25 years. A long time. He was 18 and still in school when I met him. He’s now working as a drug counselor at a halfway house2. Anyway, back then I was with Bobby. This dude and Bobby were friends. I BROKE A RULE. Anyway, he told me last night that he was mean to me back in the day because he had a huge crush on me. He said he regularly dreamt about me back then. What? Ok, then. Of course, he couldn’t do anything about his feelings because Bobby would’ve probably literally killed him3. I wouldn’t have been interested anyway. Bobby and I were deeply in love. I didn’t even look at other men back then4

We had a nice chat. I told him about the time I got into a fight with his first son’s mother for what I thought was no reason. Turns out she knew he had a crush on me. She regularly accused him of sleeping with me. I guess she even tried to tell Bobby once. But we weren’t sleeping together – ever. Bobby knew that. He didn’t even bother asking me. Anyway, she saw me alone in my favorite hole-in-the-wall and decided to flex on me. She’s a rather large girl and she had a bunch of other large girls with her. I actually made the right decision that time – I took off. But I didn’t just go home. Nope. I called Bobby. Then I went with him to his friend’s house and his friend’s sister was there. They called some people and the next night we all piled into two cars to go back to the bar. Of course, this woman and her friends were there. She was waiting for me. She shouldn’t have been. Really.

We all walked into that tiny bar as a group. The look on her face was amazing. She wasn’t expecting all that. I smiled at her and then she dashed out. We followed her out. Then my friends made sure her friends kept to themselves so we could battle right and proper. I kicked that bitch’s ass all over the place. She was much bigger than I, but I’ve been fighting big people my entire life. After she was thoroughly embarrassed, she flagged down a police car. She told the cop that I attacked her. It certainly looked that way. Then the cop came to talk to me. I was sitting by myself on the curb because I’m a cute little white girl and my friends were not. He asked me what happened.

Me: “I don’t know what’s going on. I’m just trying to sober up a little.”
Him: “She says you attacked and beat her.”
Me, laughing: “Really? Officer, that doesn’t make sense. Look at me then look at her.”
Him: “Thank you, Miss”

And away he drove with her safely in the back seat. It was that was the end of that. I never saw her or her friends in that bar again.

My friend then told me she’d always been jealous of me and probably wanted to settle the score. That was probably 5 years after Bobby and I broke up. She really did hate me a lot. I don’t care. Just another fucking fan.

So, back to my date. I got an invitation to the Bahamas and New Orleans next year. I might actually go. I don’t know. We had a couple of shots and some beer then called it a night. Anything else can wait until later. I didn’t want to go back to his place and he certainly wasn’t invited to mine. And this chick doesn’t do the back seat unless that back seat is something spectacular. I’m too old for that nonsense. Plus, I mean, I really want a dude to put in some work. I am so sick of these mofos who just treat me like a placeholder for someone else. He’ll have to put forth some effort. I think I’m worth it most of the time.

Bonus: My social calendar for June is actually full now. And I’m running into July5. This is exciting for me because I didn’t do anything last summer because of, well, my depression. I refuse to sit home all the time now. Bring on the adventures. I’m ready.

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

  1. I know I do that here. It’s different out in the real world. []
  2. Yes, he knows I smoke weed. []
  3. I was off limits forever. I’m still supposed to be off limits. []
  4. Well… During the early days of our relationship. []
  5. Going to Cedar Point. I love Cedar Point. I love rollercoasters. []

“Breathe” – Through Fire

I’m fade to black as a search for the light
Can you bring me back from this unconscious life?
Can you show me the way I’m lost in the dark
I’ve fallen apart, can you unbreak my heart?

So I can breathe
Before I suffocate
Before it’s all too late, before I die this way
I need to breathe, before I sleep away
But there’s something left to say
Can you help me
I need to breathe

I hear the angels calling, can you send one down?
I see the demons crawling, everywhere around
Can you pull me out from the mess I’ve made
Before my lungs collapse and there’s no turning back?

I need breathe
Before I suffocate
Before it’s all too late, before I die this way
I need to breathe, before I sleep away
But there’s something left to say
Can you help me I need to breathe

I need to breathe
Can you hear me I’m screaming
I’m broken down, I’m bleeding
I’ll be making through
I need you

I’m fade to black as a search for the light
Can you bring me back from this unconscious life? (help me)

Breathe before I suffocate
Before it’s all too late, before I die this way
I need to breathe, before I sleep away
But there’s something left to say
Can you help me?

I need to breathe, before I sleep away (rescue me)
I need to breathe, before it’s all too late (rescue me)
I need to breathe, before I die this way (rescue me)
I need to breathe, I need to I need to I need to (rescue me)
I need to breathe

Songwriters: Justin Mccain
Breathe lyrics © Sumerian Music Group

I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.

Me & My Demon alternatively I Am My Demon

I’ve had occasion to discuss my demon before. I call her an evil bitch, but that’s not really the case at all. She’s evil to everyone else. To me she’s a flaming sword.

The other day I asked someone “do you think in words or images?” It was an interesting conversation. One that I really want to explore. I asked her what would happen if I asked her to describe something how would she think about the something? She said she thinks in words. I think of different concepts in images. I can describe it to you in words, but it’s formed a shape in my mind – even concepts that don’t have a visual cue get one in my mind.
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I like geeky stuff, politics, squirrels and monkeys.