Monthly Archives: December 2011

Of course I shut the port down.

It was a different experience this time.  I wasn’t nervous.  I was there calmly, without anger.  I was there to show my children what it means to live in a country where free speech is protected.  We are allowed to march in protest.  Why do we march?  What does it accomplish?  Well, it’s weird.  This is hard to talk about.  This is what I am struggling to explain to my daughter.

The future is not a set place that we are racing to get to.  There are many events happening all over the place and no one has any idea where it is all headed.  If you don’t like the looks of where things are going, make some noise.  Change things.  People making their wishes known is the only thing that has ever made things change.  People have power.

This time I was not amongst the first 200 people to the port.  I was moving at the speed of three and a half. It’s a very different march at that speed.  You see the range of emotions so much differently.  At the General Strike I was in the front.  I was determined.  This time I watched the masses of people leave me behind.  It was an interesting perspective on how I feel a lot of the time.  I don’t belong with any of the groups.  I’m not part of them.  I used to just be alone, and always feeling like I was more and more out of touch.  Now I get to look down and squeeze Shanna’s hand and say, “I am so glad you are here with me.”

I think about why I am teaching my daughters to Occupy.  What am I doing, precisely?  I want them to feel like they get to take up space.  But it’s more than just that.  The only way you can change the world is if you go forth with absolute conviction and get other people to agree with you.  There is no room for wishy washy.

I have all these intense feelings about shutting down the port the second time.  I’ll be honest and say that I went because Boots Riley told me to.  If you haven’t listened to him speak, you should.  He’s going to change the world.  Passion like that is compelling.  He is more than just passionate though.  He is honest.    Honesty is pretty hard to come by in most places.

Bonding

I think a lot about why I want to overshare my emotional experience while hunting.  I think that part of it is, I don’t know how these things go for other people.  Does everyone waffle like me?  Noah says he doesn’t.  Does anyone?  I don’t know.

I feel like my whole life has been a weird balancing act.  I have to do enough hard things to balance out the easy things.  I’m not really even sure what that means.  Why do I feel utterly compelled to promise elaborate sex acts to strangers?  I can’t do it with people I know very well because then I feel like I have to live up to that promise all the time.

Last night I did well.  I closed.  Three times.  Excellent.  It helps that this was one of the rare times when I have taunted this person in real life previously.  He was ready for some follow through.  I feel giddy that I managed.  It’s like checking a box on a treasure hunt.  w00t.  Inspired hot sex three times in one night.  And he didn’t finish quickly.  Excellent stamina.  I feel like women are judged this way, why shouldn’t men?

Why shouldn’t I talk about sex as if it is a perfectly respectable hobby?  Excepting religious reasons… no really, why should anyone care?  Granted not everyone wants to hear about it, but I don’t want to hear about golf either.  So?  Why are most hobbies morally neutral but sex is bad?  Why am I bad because I like to feel this way?

It’s not like I have devoted my entire life to it.  I’m doing a few other things as well.  Like writing about it.

Sarah is taking Shanna to Arizona tomorrow.  I will miss them.  It’s always hard for me when Shanna visits people without me.

I have a date Thursday night.  I need to go to bed early on Tuesday and Wednesday if I want to be in the mood.  If it was for tonight I would cancel.  I’m burning too hot.  I’m using too much energy and way way too much at night.  I’m so tired.

I feel the kind of tired where I am emotionally raw.  This is how I always came home feeling.  And my mother would pick a fight.  When I feel vulnerable like this I am sensitive and I easily feel shamed and unwanted.  It doesn’t always happen after sex with new people and it can happen with Noah.  When I feel like I am breaking taboos this sometimes hits.

I feel really bad about telling the guy last night “Maybe” when he asked for a second date.  I feel like I made promises I don’t intend to keep.  I kept my mouth shut about things he said or did that were complete relationship deal breakers for me because oh man is that not a battle I’m interested in.  I’m not trying to hurt him.  I think he is a fine individual.  Just not someone I want to be in a relationship with. Oh the sex was hot though.  If we run into one another at a sex party… maybe.  If I’m in the mood.  He certainly did most of it just right.

It feels like as a slut/whore/whatever word you want to use having those kind of preferences is kind of mean.  I’m supposed to just take people as they are and like them.  Mostly I do.  But there’s always one thing… I know it would drive me batty.  I go home and thank God that Noah doesn’t have/do/think/whatever the thing was.

This is why I don’t feel polyamorous.  Not really.  Only I have my boys.  I do feel a connection to them.  It is pretty much always more intense on their side.  I have a date scheduled with my shaman.  We haven’t been on a date in about six or seven years?  And it was a four or five year gap between that and the previous set of dates.

I have a long cycle sometimes, apparently.  It’s interesting to learn that about myself.  I’m glad I didn’t stay with Steve because I would not have had the room to grow to be the person I am now.  I like who and what I am.  He wouldn’t have stood next to me for this journey.  He wasn’t my partner.  Not like this.  Tom didn’t want to have kids with me.  That is why I left him.  Having children was more important to me than being with him.  I made the right choice.

I am strongly dyadic in my bonding.  I do very intense one on one bonding.  And then it scares the piss out of me and I run away.  Noah is the only person I have ever met who can really match my intensity in an on-going way.  We take breaks occasionally when we are escalating, but we always come back to a topic.  We can always finish talking about something no matter how hard it is.

I have never had a person in my life who will do that.  I would follow him off a cliff because no one will ever make me feel seen the way Noah does.  I’m protective of this space.  I feel terrified of it being encroached on.

That’s why I only go on first dates.  I have no interest in finding a new bond right now.  Fuck you all.  You all suck compared to Noah.  I’m not going to go on a second date and start dealing with the fact that you can’t have conversations the way I want to have them.  It feels like a waste of my time.  I’m not interested in sitting through multiple dates where I have to silently roll my eyes and put up with shit that irritates the fuck out of me.  Everyone irritates me.  Everyone.  But I can turn around and tell Noah what he is doing that irritates the fuck out of me.  I can’t do that with anyone else.

It’s very stressful being around people and being polite.  I’m really not very polite in my head.  But I want polite children.  I have gone most of the way towards creating polite children.  When they start behaving in a way that irritates me it is because they are mimicking something I’ve done.  If I want to change their behavior the first thing I need to do is identify where I am behaving in a sub-optimal way and change it.  I put a lot of pressure on myself right now.

But people seriously irritate the fuck out of me and I’d like to yell at them a lot.  I don’t.  It’s not personal.  I’m sorry I feel this way.  But I do.

I don’t go on second date because that one little thing that irritated me?  I left thinking about it.  I constructed a story in my head about that little personality tic becoming part of my life.  Oh god that would require a lot of patience.  Can’t do it.  I’m sorry.

I’ve done a fair bit of recycling old hits in my head, lately.  I’ve gone on dates with several old flames, with mixed success.  I’m interested in seeing how things have changed with my shaman.  I feel weird about the fact that he is ok with being available for me whenever I want him over the course of more than a decade.  That’s… holy shit that’s commitment.  I love him.  But I’m not and I never have been “in love”.  It’s dramatic that I now have Noah to compare everyone to.  He changed the whole scale.

I like inspiring people.  Really good sex can change your world view.  There are so many good chemicals.  The aftermath of goodness can be bittersweet.  I like inspiring people to feel better about themselves.  I want them to feel affirmed for the one gift I am willing to accept from them.

I’m tired.  I’ve had a week of bad sleep.  I feel guilty that I avoided conversation last night by falling asleep.  He woke me up after an hour and a half to put me on bart.  Fucking slick, Krissy.  I feel bad.  It’s not like I did it on purpose.  I’m really tired.  But uhm, that shouldn’t be part of the first date.  Kind of poor form.

Noah is trying to schedule a date for Thursday.  I have extra impetus to not cancel.  Bother.  This is the kind of thing that inevitably happens around him dating.  If I cancel it gets weird.  He’s just as (or more) twitchy than I am at this point.  He acts like he should be kicked.  I have a hard time when Noah puts his head down and looks like he is in pain.  Like I have already been berating him… just because he feels guilty.  I haven’t said anything.  It makes me angry.  And then I’m going to say things.

This is a bad cycle.  Mostly in our life he acts like my ambient anger isn’t about him.  He goes about his life being cheerful and dandy and on his own time.  This is a good thing.  When he feels like he is to blame for my anger the dynamic changes.  I feel like an abusive asshole because he starts flinching.  It’s hard because it feels like my anger isn’t much higher than normal but all of a sudden I am bad for feeling it.  WTF?  Why do I have to be Miss Susie Sunshine on this sacred topic above all others?  I’m a cranky person.  I just am.  Why is it surprising around this topic?

Why am I only not allowed to feel feelings about this.  You are fine with them on every other topic.

I’m going back and sleeping with my friends because I have already been fierce and aggressive and they have proven they really like me.  It’s weird to show up and let them surprise me with how they actually want to touch me.  It’s weird finding out what is on the other side of the brick wall I build around myself.

First date sex has a certain loneliness to it.  That’s the bittersweet part.  You know that this person doesn’t really know you.  When you plan to disappear in the morning you hide behind that knowledge.  You carefully don’t present yourself at certain times.  It’s not worth finding out how this person feels about ‘x’ controversial topic.  For me to carefully censor what I’m saying…

This feeling.  It’s like what I had as a child.  When I was being sent to a new place.  I desperately wanted to please them.  I wanted to be liked.  Not being liked was so bad.  So very bad.  When people don’t like me they tend to loathe me.  They feel free to say the nastiest, meanest things possible.  They do this because I reveal a lot of intense personal feelings quickly and then other people bond to me.  Then when I reject the bond, because it was ephemeral for me, something that was completely true in the moment and not true later, they know personal things.

I’m being vague.  There is no way for me to recount the people and ways I have been told I am disgusting for the kind of sex I like to have.  I had a good night last night.  I don’t want to do it again soon because of my own issues with being patient with people.  He did nothing wrong.  He’s awesome.  My shaman is wonderful.  I feel much more connected to him than I do to most people.  I only want to go out on approximately a dozen dates over a decade.  It’s not because he has done something wrong.

I feel like running away from intimacy this hard is a sign that I am deeply broken.  If people cannot be everything and perfect then I have no space for them in my life.  And I judge everyone against Noah and find them wanting.  I’m lonely.

A lot of the impatience is just that people feel weird to me.  I never feel comfortable.  I always feel fake and like I have to be thinking very hard about not saying “the wrong thing” because inevitably someone will blow up at me.

Talking about sex and relationships feels especially charged and fierce.  People always feel weird to me.  I’m not very adaptable.  I have times where I can do it, but it’s hard.  I’m always poised for inevitable rejection.  Some woman who wrote me a nasty dear Jane letter felt the need to go back and change her RSVP to a no for an event I had in 2010.  Uhm.  Wow.  Thanks for letting me know, again, that you still dislike me.

I feel inadequate to the task of living my life.  I feel like I keep writing checks my body can’t cash.  I haven’t run in a few days.  I’m too physically exhausted.  Shanna and Calli and I did help shut down the port yesterday.  That was a walk.  I was impressed with Shanna’s tenacity.  I gave her multiple opportunities to wuss out when she got tired.  She said, “No!  I can do it!  I’m buff!”  My strong girl.

I feel a vague desire to probe her for why she introduces herself as She-Ra.  But that’s people hacking and she can’t consent.  So instead when she does it I just smile along.  I don’t know what to say.  Why should she feel more attached to the name I picked out?

I’m teaching her to be kind of weird.  I feel bad about that.  I’m very good at talking to strangers… if I initiate it or if they follow a pattern of questions I recognize as “valid”.  I can answer some questions easily.  Other times I freeze up and feel really dumb and walk away muttering about my inadequate social skills… she notices.

Today there is a park day trip to the park where I used to meet the above mentioned Dear Jane woman.  It’s a great park.  The homeschool group is going.  I keep thinking to myself that I’m not there to make friends.  I’m there to let Shanna make friends.  I don’t know that I can do it.  I can’t sleep in, ok fine.  I need to start going to bed earlier at night.  I’m so tired I can’t function.  This is not useful.

This is part of what I mean when I say I can’t date.  I don’t regulate my energy well.  Right now I’m trying to do too many things.  I can’t do everything.  Time to drop some balls.

{tmi} squee!

I closed!  I had sex on a first date!  *happy dance*

Want to know why I like having one date with people?  Because they do things like use a little boy voice to tell me how "nummy" I am during sex.  I felt like a pedophile.  But he was good at the physical parts of sex. 😀  Three times! 😀  

It's weird knowing that I got exactly what I wanted… and that means I won't be back.  I feel like a big meaniehead.

Hunting is hella awkward (this whole thing is tmi)

We went from having a weekend of lots of planned sluttery to only having sex together.  This is rather hilarious, I think.  But Noah was approached on okcupid.  He’s making a date.

I love masturbating right after sex.  I’m sore and overly sensitive so it kind of hurts and it takes me a long time to have an orgasm.  I have to really make up a story in my head.  I’m just starting to do this again.  I haven’t done this in years.  I don’t masturbate when my kids are in bed with me.  I like to follow the stories that come up.  Often they involve sex with one or more of my friends.  It usually involves me getting to meet some need in their life.

Having sex with your friends is shitting where you eat.  It’s hard because having your needs met feels really good and it’s easy to get upset when you know people in your life can make you feel that good but they choose to schedule their time elsewhere.  That’s a hard thing emotionally.  It’s a lot of the reason that I am gun shy about polyamory.  I have my priorities set where they are set and no I am not fucking adjusting them for someone else.

I don’t think I have ever hunted the way I am hunting now.  I have never gotten to set the terms before.  It’s really hot.  It’s really hot to have people be willing to seduce me by email before we ever show up in person.  I have a great correspondance going right now.  The problem is that people get to the date and then have performance anxiety.  I don’t have performance anxiety.  I’m that good at sex.  As good as I say and better.  Because if you write me a script in advance I will make sure it is a script I can play and then I will play it to the hilt.  It’s really fun.

People who know me have a hard time engaging with this part of me.  They already have so many experiences that have made them gun shy.  I should make people gun shy on a day to day basis.  I’m kind of twitchy.  You don’t know how my moods will flow, it’s true.  Pushing an agenda on me is normally a questionable idea.

Except when it isn’t.  And I don’t know how to figure out the boundaries around this with people I know.  But I am learning how to do it with strangers and it’s really hot.  One hiccup is that I was asked if choking is really a hard limit.  Uhh, yeah.  It is.  No hands around my neck at all.  I don’t care that you like to assert your dominance that way.  Find another way.  Hey, I’m a nice girl.  How about if I tell you that I have been thinking a lot about face slapping?  You’ll believe me because I’ve been so clear about my boundaries in every other place.  Start slow, of course.  I’m sensitive.  But if that is interesting to you… I would feel put in my place.  Just sayin’.

It’s hard to do these exchanges with people I know.  I don’t trust very many people to that level.  It’s hard to use your friends as one night stands.  They feel bad.  Friends feel used and abandoned.  It’s important to not spike that oxytocin too high with people who already are more emotionally connected than I am.  That’s shitting on people I like.  Because they get hurt.  I don’t like doing that.

I am really thrilled about how many dates are happening.  I’m having fun.  I’m thrilled that Noah’s response to me hunting is to start talking about going to the gym because now he has to compete.  He totally doesn’t.  But I like it when he is in better shape.  Our sex life improves.  And given where it is… oh my.

I think it is funny that I hunt so hard for sex with other people when I know that Noah will be a better lover.  Every time.  It’s kind of like how Noah won’t eat McDonald’s, so I go without him.  I have these tastes for things that are bad for me.  My vices.  I like McDonald’s, ramen, and dates with new-to-me-men.  I’m going to get to the point where those are it.  (I eat McDonald’s like once a month.  Just sayin’.  Happy Meal joy.)

Noah tried to wake me up for sex on Friday night and I bit his head off.  Thursday I didn’t sleep much so I was cranky.  I made it up to him by waking him up on Saturday morning.  And we went to a party and played together on Saturday and had hot sex.  And we came home and had hot sex.  And Sunday afternoon Sarah took the kids out and he tied me up and did wonderful things to me and we had hot sex. And Sunday before passing out we couldn’t stop pawing at one another… so we had hot sex again.

Sometimes just being near him makes me shake with wanting him.  I have felt this voracious need for sex basically all of my life.  For the first time it’s not only ok it is preferable.  Because Noah actually likes me and appreciates me.  I worry about how other people will perceive me for being this kind of person.  I worry and feel stupid for worrying.  Of course people judge me.  So what?

I am not at risk of being hurt.  It would be very hard for anyone to hurt me just because they disapprove of my behavior.  My kids are far more sheltered than average.  They have a fierce sense of body autonomy and you can’t get that if you are abused.  They shine with good health and love.  I don’t have a job that is at risk.  Noah tells me he doesn’t care what I write.  He’ll take the hit.  Because I’m worth it.  I am financially secure enough that I will never have to play a public game again in my life.

Still I feel this fear.  If I feel this afraid, what is it like for people who have something to lose?  I have hubris on my side.  I can limit my hunting pool ridiculously.  I seem to be only hunting among people who have college degrees, often PhDs.  Not because I care but because those are the ones with the cajones to message me.  They are the only people who are willing to put up with a long list of nitpicky requests and demands from me before they meet me.  People who will write a sex script with me before meeting me and allow me to call a large percentage of the shots.  Am I actually doing risk management this way or am I lying to myself?

Communicating clearly that I am a sure thing gives me this sensation of butterflies in my stomach.  That moment of revelation, when I have to say I am interested in sex feels incredible.  Because I am interested in sex.  Not with anyone.  With people who can talk to me and help me make a script and help me figure out why I am there.

That’s what I’m doing with the pre-writing.  I’m giving myself a chance to create the back story on why the kind of girl he is fantasizing about would show up for the experience he is about to have.  Everyone wants a different why.  I’m very curious about why people think they should have sex.  It’s different from the why they have for love.  The why people have about sex tells me so much about their life.

Most people think they should have sex because they are in love.  It’s kind of a weird thing, to me.  Why do I think I should have sex?  Because it feels good.  Because I like carefully balancing how much of my life is devoted to things that feel good to me.  The specific kind of feel-good I get from sex with new people is apparently worth a lot of effort and angst to me.  I’m trying to get to the point where I can attenuate the effort and get rid of the angst.  I’m not for everyone.  The kind of people who are in the right place to do exactly what I want… that’s serendipity.  I need to be honest about the emotional cost.

I need to stop being messy with my emotions in my house.  Sarah has nightmares and I make them worse.  I’m not yelling or screaming.  But I am huffy.  I do visibly shake with anger.  To someone who grew up in a violent household I look like I am on the verge of hitting.  I need better control.  And that means I need to back off on hunting.  It’s taking a lot of my brain cycles and that makes me short tempered elsewhere.

I need to figure out how much energy I actually have left once I am meeting my obligations at home.  Right now I don’t feel like I understand that balance very well.  This is where I don’t have a map.  I guess I do though.  I painted it on my wall.  I’m going into the cave.  Sometimes.  Or I’m wandering off to have an island retreat.

Have I mentioned that due to plumbing mishaps I have a white wall in my house?  The possibilities are endless.  I still haven’t painted the garage door.  All of these things take energy.  Energy I am currently holding in reserve because later today I am going to go shut down the Port of Oakland with a few friends.  I’m bringing my kids.  And after the Port Shutdown I will be dropped off for a date.

There is only so much of me to go around.  I only have so much energy to give.  It’s really awesome; I have to be pragmatic.  What do I want to have in my life?  What are my actual, actionable priorities?  What am I doing with my time and energy and how is it balancing throughout my life?  I have to think about these things.

I am sad things went the way they did with muse, but I can’t say I’m surprised.  I shouldn’t have tried for a month.  I know better.  I know I don’t have that kind of energy for a relationship.  I should have left it at the first date.  If my one night stand hunting culminated in a night of bath house sex where I don’t have to talk to the person after that… that would have been great.  I was stupid.  I tried to get the short-term boyfriend experience.

Know yourself.  Know your limits.  Noah has different limits.  Hell, near as I can tell everyone has different limits than me.  That’s ok.  It’s tricky trying to figure out where I get to have  rock hard limits around what I can and can’t request from people.

I’m interested in one night stands.  If you aren’t, that’s fine.  We aren’t a match.  Move along.  Don’t get mad at me and I’ll try not to rant about you.  I’ll make that promise to all the future boys.  I’ll try not to rant.  Which is to say that I will rant but try to be balanced.  You did good things too.  We just aren’t a match.  No shame in that.

That’s why.  That’s why I’m hunting.  Because I am continuing the behavior I have done my entire life but not I am trying to do it without shame.  I want to find a way to balance this part of me that feels bad because other people do not value it with the knowledge that it does bring good to my life.  It gives me the energy to go conquer the world.

I’m probably not going to schedule a one night stand attempt in January.  I need a rest from that energy drain.  It’s time to re-evaluate the energy I’m giving to my sex life.  I promised Shanna that I would make her a play house in January.  I can’t be tired from staying up all night for sex and do that.  It’s going to be awesome.  Just wait.  But it will take creativity.  It has to fit into Wonderland.

How can I talk about parenting and being a slut in one post?  Because I’m both.  That has to be ok.  I’m not actually doing anything shameful.  I have an unusual hobby that most people don’t share.  Like people in this valley should fucking judge.  You are all a bunch of weirdos.  What the fuck is this geocaching shit?

I think that if you look at history you will find a lot more people who pursued sex voraciously than people who beat some video game.  Who is the freak?  Ahem.

Road to Noah

A friend recently told me that he thinks one of my books will be the Road to Noah.  It makes me smile.  Yes.  I would love to write that book.  It’s going to involve a lot of pop culture references.  It will be silly and fun and sweet.  Kind of like our relationship.

The song du jour is Teenage Dream. And it’s pretty darn true.  Noah grew up in a small hick town in Texas.  When we dress up to go to a fun party he wants me to find a blend between the white trash whore and looking expensive.  It’s… interesting.  Noah really appreciates the part of me that feels like a whore.  He specifically finds my experience and my unusually strong desire for sex appealing.  He actually wanted that unicorn.  I have met other guys who were partnered with women like me.  It’s not completely unusual, but it’s rare.

Once you hit a certain number of sexual partners, somewhere around 25, you just phase out of being a romantic possibility for a large segment of the population.  People will feel free to tell you casually, “Even though you are very attractive I couldn’t possibly sleep with someone who has had sex with as many people as you have.”  Uhh.  I wasn’t soliciting you for sex.  But thank you for reminding me that I should assume I am required to be interested in sex with every single man I ever talk to.  I’m going to go home and stop talking now.

Back to Noah.  In contrast.  Noah thinks I am hotter than the sun.  He loves hearing all the whispered stories from my illicit sex.  He wants to hear all about flashing my genital piercings in the back alley in Ireland.  He likes that I wear my sexuality on my sleeve.  He likes the part of me that chases taboo sex. That’s complicated.  Life is really complicated.

Something that I’ve been thinking about a lot for the last few days is how dangerous it is.  Potentially.  I think I’m more than qualified to say that people shouldn’t expect to avoid sexual assault.  How does one narrow the odds?  Is it possible?  Only sometimes.  What happens when a limit is crossed?  What limits do I have?  How will I communicate them?  How will I keep myself safe?  This is going to be flying by the seat of my pants.

Part of how I am trying to ensure that I can do this is by thinking about my right to dictate how this fits into my life.  I do get to place boundaries on my hunting.  I don’t have to bend to the fact that other people want a relationship.  I can’t learn a new person right now.  My heart is full.  I’m having these sensations in other parts of my anatomy.  I realize I’m not supposed to talk about that.

But talking about that is part of the road to Noah.  I want to talk about these things and he told me that it doesn’t matter that I’m not supposed to talk about them.  I can do it any way.  I get to decide that my inner moral compass is more important than anyone else’s discomfort.  That’s a tricky line to walk.  Because I do and I don’t.  But I can define the line and have it be in a different place than other people.  If I am within my legal rights, fair fucking game.  Why not?  Because it makes other people uncomfortable.

I didn’t drag your ass here to read my words.  I’m defensive with no one and every one.  I’m sitting here arguing with ghosts.  I haven’t gotten a negative comment.  I have been flamed once on the internet in many years of posting intense personal information, and that was a prank.  All of these shoulds I am yelling against are just phantoms in my head.  They are what I was told.  I need to stop this bitching in my head.  This litany of shame.

I’m really not doing anything wrong.  And neither is Noah.  And he’s going to go on a date soon.  And I need to smile and kiss him good bye and be nice when he comes home.  I get to have boundaries, sure.  I don’t get to be nasty.  That’s not a right.

Ok.  I’ll accept this step as inevitable.  Shit.  And I’ll be nice… well unless I’m being pissy about something else.  Then all bets are off and I’ll apologize and grovel.  I’m really sorry that will happen.  I’m trying to work on it.  It is better.

I’m trying to be worthy of you, too.

{tmi} squee

I think I have nailed my perfect dirty whore profile on okcupid.  I'm proud of myself.  That's what I want it.  It'll appear.  I just know it. 😛

Patience is not my strong suit.  Ha.

Justine, if you want to look.  I think it's perfect.  Feedback? 😀

I’ll go

I’m having one of those come-to-Jesus soul searching moments.  Why am I going?

I picked this life.  I want this life.  I would not be happy in a different life.  Yes, I have some intense conflict.  I know where my loyalties lie.  I know what my responsibilities are.  This is part of mastery.  It is.  This is making a choice.  This is about going out to the store and picking the mattress and the frame and the sheets and the pillows and lying down in it.  In a tacky ass crotchless body stocking for you.  I think they are so silly.  But no problem.  I can do that.

And I will smile.  And yeah, some pieces will be a polite fiction.  I don’t have to love every page to love the story.  I need to not feel bitter about my choices.  I really and truly am making them of my own free will.  This is what I want.

But it’s really hard sometimes.  These are very old wounds.  You know.  It is terrifying.  This is where I need to stop bitching.  I need to make a choice.  And I need to climb in that bed and smile or I need to get the fuck out of it.  I don’t want out.  I don’t in any part of me.

I’m sorry I make this so hard.  I have to be sure this is really what you want.  This must be something you want very much if you will put up with so much.  I can stop testing now.  I’m sorry.  Some decisions are harder than others and I have to ensure that you really want it this much.  I have to make sure this isn’t going to hurt me in the long run.  This will be no big deal.  Really.

The Embargo

We’re told women want sex as much as men. As far as I can tell, it’s true. So why don’t we see more equality? When somebody is paying for sex, why is it always a man paying? When you go to a singles bar, why is it that more men are so often cruising fewer women instead of the
other way around? And why is asking and trying to get attention the default and expected behavior for men, and a stigmatized sign of being “too desperate” in women?

Why, in other words, are men pushing for sex and women acting as gatekeepers when women want sex as much as men do? Shouldn’t women be pushing and men resisting about as often?

I do push. The reactions suck. Here’s what happens to me, as a woman who pushes for sex. I go out on a series of first dates with guys who want me to be their dream come true. They see one side of me and decide that I have to change my whole life to accommodate their preferences. Guys are really nasty when you are not instantly available to them in any capacity they want. And that means being the perfect level of busy. Because if you have less or more going on than them that is supposed to automatically happen. Your schedule is supposed to give way to theirs.

It’s just assumed. I know chicks do this too. But when chicks expect more time than a guy wants to give she is labeled as “clingy” and too “dependent”. It’s a massive character flaw.

It’s true in some cases and not in others. But near as I can tell most men don’t want sex as much as we’re told men want it. More equality in what? I cannot count the number of married women I know who whine and bitch and moan about not getting enough sex. Once people are trapped in marriage it really is a toss-up who actually wants more sex. It’s immediate access to sex that is less guaranteed. A lot of this is that many women tend to be turned on by different things than men. Often things that take more time and emotional connection to establish. They may want sex, but not right now and not with you.

There is a physical component of need to sex and there is an emotional component. The general norms indicate that men and women have different levels of trust-need in order to have physical attraction. It may be a cultural construct, but we live where we live.

Why are women gatekeepers? Because if they have sex they are often shamed, humiliated, and later violently assaulted for being stupid enough to say yes. If a high school girl says “yes” in any context other than a committed long-term relationship she becomes a slut. Once a girl has the reputation of being a slut she is in active danger. Boys will follow her around and strongly imply, often backed with physical intimidation, that since she said once she is required to say yes again, to him. It is terrifying to open the gates of sex when you are a teenage girl. That road is littered with violence.

Shame

Here are some standard non-answers: “men are dogs” or “men are perverts” or “men have no shame.” Those are euphemisms we use for “men show that they want sex, right out in public.” If desire is equal and universal, why is it shameful to say so? If it’s not shameful to say so, why do we use shaming words for people who do?

Here are more standard non-answers: “women aren’t slaves to their base urges.” “Women are too pure for that.” These are actually the same non-answers, phrased passive-aggressively – wanting sex is shameful, and only men do that. That is, also false and also shaming.

Part of this is the idea that pleasure is sinful. We are a religious country whether we want to admit it or not. As a collective group the Judeo-Christian crowd has decided that if men have a little fun on the sly it can be ignored. If a woman does she should be shunned. This is hearkening back to the era where if a girl lost her virginity before marriage she no longer had market worth and she would be treated badly permanently. Even if she lost her virginity through rape. It really is a tough line that women have to walk. We are supposed to constantly appear sexually appealing, because after all if we aren’t sexually appealing we have no intrinsic value, but be careful about not spreading it around. If you spread a commodity amongst too many people it is no longer valuable.

Why Buy the Cow?

We mean that sex should happen in a tight, monogamous bond, preferably marriage. We also mean that women should enforce that — wait for the ring, wait for the commitment, make him buy gifts and act thoughtful and show how much he wants it. Women are thoughtful and give gifts too, of course. But if you look at what gifts cost and who is coercing who, it’s pretty clear that women can strong-arm men much more often than vice-versa.

In fact, sex is considered incredibly valuable for the woman acting as gatekeeper — so valuable that it’s often treated as a woman’s first and most important asset, and not just by men. Women remind each other that he won’t “buy the cow” if you just give sex away — make him earn it with a powerful commitment and many gifts, over and over again.

If sex is that valuable *only for women*, that’s a huge imbalance.

Why are men expected to spend more money? Uhm, maybe because they make more? Maybe because they will permanently, always, be privileged when it comes to being a provider? The purpose of giving gifts in the courting stage is to show that you will be a good provider. Given that many women still feel nervous about being able to provide for themselves financially, it’s a reasonable worry.

Picking the right mate is the difference between a life of luxury or a life of misery. Ask me how I know. What would my life have turned out like if I hadn’t been such a good whore I managed to catch a rich husband?

Working Girls

We don’t like to admit these things in conversation, but actions speak louder than words. We act like sex is a valuable commodity that must be paid for by men. The world’s oldest profession is also one of the most universal. Yes, men can be prostitutes too. But overwhelmingly their clients are other men, not women.

Feminists dispute some of these points – which ones depends on which feminist you talk to or read. But they dispute what *should* be the case more often than they dispute what *is* the case. And many modern feminists believe prostitution is just fine… That when women have
something of such value they should be free to sell it if they want to.

Mostly women don’t know that they have any commodity to sell other than their body. We are not brought up to cultivate our minds. We are not taught business skills. We are not taught how to be successful. We are taught to shut up and suck smoothly. The reason that a lot of women don’t “put out” early on in courting is because when they do they are abandoned. Many men believe that the kind of woman who will put out quickly is one you should despise. You never know until it is too late what kind of man you are sleeping with. It’s a dangerous risk to take.

Pater Noster

But isn’t it the Patriarchy or The Man holding women into these rigid roles, and forcing sex to be sold by women? In a word, no.

The Patriarchy is real, alive and well. But why would it enforce roles on women that force men to pay constantly for sex, whether from prostitutes or with constant and expensive gifts to a single wife? If The Man was in charge of this specific effect, wouldn’t he follow the lead of the Middle East and keep a harem or several wives? He’d pay, yes, and continue buying gifts, but the focus on monogamous bonds keeps him from playing one wife against another, inhibits his chances to find dalliances outside his home and generally holds him back if what he wants is constant and uninhibited sex. He has many better models of sex and marriage to choose from than the modern American one if he’s being properly self-serving. The Man may have chosen this from among his various available choices… But women *do* get to restrict his choices, or he’d have made a different one.

Vast cultural differences, that’s why. Although you are fooling yourself if you think that rich men don’t already have this. Not every guy. But enough that it is kind of silly to imply that we actually follow monogamy in this country. American women have learned to put a higher price on themselves. I’m all for it.

Follow the Money

Here’s the question to ask: who benefits? People are often selfless individually, but they’re generally ruthlessly mercenary in groups and over long times. A large group’s habits and customs mostly work to their collective advantage, even when individuals are selfless,
self-sabotaging or self-sacrificing.

Who benefits? Women wind up holding an extremely valuable commodity, and eventually being paid handsomely for it.

Traditionally speaking this was the only means of survival. To act like there is something wrong with it is short-sighted and self-absorbed. Things have changed substantially over the last few generations, but women still have to worry about pregnancy. Women will still bear the burden of work if a man happens to knock them up. You don’t know until it is too late how much responsibility a man will take for his actions. Yes, this is true of women as well, but it is pretty ridiculous to act like the responsibility for the outcome of sex falls primarily on men. No, it’s on women. And men are upset that women don’t sign on for a whole lot more of it? That shows that they aren’t bearing as much cost for the decision.

If a woman chooses to have sex she is going to have to deal with the consequences. Perhaps pregnancy and motherhood. Perhaps an abortion. These are both significant decisions that have lifelong consequences. Men prove early and often that they don’t have to be bound by the same rules. Yes, some men are responsible. What is a woman’s guarantee?

Devil’s Bargain

But don’t women lose a lot? Well, if they’re interested in sex, sure. They get less sex. They get less variety in sex. They get partners who are *desperate* for sex, which is not a recipe for *good* sex in the same way that a starving person isn’t going to pay much attention to the effort you lavished into getting the sauce right on the roast lamb.

But then, if sex is held as a commodity in public, desiring it has been defined as weakness. Admitting you *want* sex is already a betrayal. So you’re only losing what it’s now low-class to admit wanting. So everybody “wins”, right?

Casual/Casual +

I was curious what the fella’s on a certain community site would say about the topic of casual sex.  I’m mildly surprised that most people don’t consider something casual sex unless it is entirely anonymous and you never speak.  Really?  Ok, I guess I don’t want actual casual sex then.  Wow.  I like to find profiles on the web and exchange a few emails.  Then meet up with a thin pretense of something to do for about an hour.  Then we can go back to your place.  I may or may not ever feel the need to talk to you after that but I will have fond feelings for you.  Some of these turn into friendships, most don’t.  I don’t mind in the slightest.

Really?  That’s not casual?  Wow.  Once again, I need a new word.  Because even saying NSA (no strings attached) isn’t quite what I mean.  And it’s not really friends with benefits because I don’t think we need to be friends.  Fuckbuddy implies we are buddies.  We aren’t.  You are a stranger on the internet.  A perfectly nice one.  One I obviously find attractive (this is usually a combination of looks, intelligence, and ‘feels like tribe’) so what is that?

I like running into former lovers.  I like the smile I get.  I like the soft brush of the arm as they acknowledge that they know how to touch me.  If I don’t litter my lovers all over the valley, how can I have that experience?

I was asked what made me smile today

Shanna and Calli make me smile every day.  I feel so lucky that they both have such sweet dispositions.  They truly are a joy to spend time with.

I smiled because my domestic help was quite civil when I gave her feedback and she thanked me.  I feel fucking weird being an employer.

I smiled because I got to think about sex.  That's been an interesting topic lately.

It totally went over his head.

He agreed that he wasn't special… except he can make music!  Heavily synthesized stuff on his laptop!  He doesn't play instruments, really.  They limit his vibe.

OMFG.  I don't think I was subtle.  wtf.  

And when someone says they are there for a one night stand, please stop trying to turn them into a girlfriend.  Please.

That would be a no.

If you are 27 and living with your parents and you haven't worked in years because you occasionally get odd jobs and mostly your parents support you… don't whine about not having life experiences.  You are choosing to be a permanent child.  If you haven't traveled it is your fault.  I don't really want to hear your long rant about how there is no point in being happy because after all there is no good in this world.  Bite my ass.  Get over yourself.  You have it better than 99.99999999% of all people who have ever lived for all time.  Fuck you.  What the fuck do you think you deserve?  

Yeah.  And then he wrote me a long email asking me to tell him how he differs from all the other people I've met in my life.  I told him he doesn't differ.  He has the same experiences, appearance, and life as a tremendous number of people I know.  You have all reached the same conclusions in exactly the same way and you are fucking convinced that you are the smartest people ever.  When really what you are is dismissive and pretentious.

No, you are not getting a second date.  I'm not catering to your self-absorbed pretention, thanks.

He made me listen to 30 minutes of ambient music in his van when it was 40-something degrees so I would "know the sound of his soul."

Those who lead

Oh Noah, we have to watch this video together:

We’ve been talking about those who lead vs. leaders.  Leaders generally being those schmucks in Washington sort of idea.  In this video she shows the journey of what it looks like to be someone who leads.

Ok, so I’m going to follow the video timeline a bit.  The early timeline sets you up to question what is reality and what isn’t in the story.  You can tell that she’s a very light and fluffy sort of person.  There’s not going to be anything of serious depth in this story, and yet it kind of is.  Was she knifed?  Was it an abortion?  Did she try to commit suicide?  This isn’t something that has been publicly part of her story so far as I know.

Then there is the transition into the weird ballet thing.  That is confusing at first.  You see her losing it in her room and being destructive and angry.  Then she’s tossed out of ballet.  While well dressed.  She goes off and finds a new form of dance, more suited to her personal style.  This is when the song actually starts.  All that?  It’s back story.

She starts out by blowing shit up and jumping on cars.  I approve on principle.  I think more women should blow shit up.  It’s fucking liberating.

Then she joins a different dance troupe.  It’s more merit based and suited to her.  She just acts like herself.  People start falling into line behind her.  Not because she tells them to.  They just do.  Because she is worth following.  They genuinely feel inspired by watching her.  They want to match their movements to her because she has some quality that other people don’t have.  She just shines.  She doesn’t know why, not really.  She just likes the rhinestones.  She does all these crazy, inappropriate things.

That’s the thing.  She’s batshit crazy.  She’s unstable.  She breaks things and throws huge temper tantrums.  If you had to deal with her all the time you would have a very different perspective of her.  But she’s still inspiring.  She still has that quality.  When she moves, people still want to move their bodies like her.  Who knows why.

She is writing an impassioned plea to people to understand why she wants to be a dancer hanging out with the gays and the freaks.  She’s married to the idea of supporting the counter culture.  She wants people to think they are allowed to exist.  She wants to see all of it and glorify it.  She wants all the violence of New York to be part of her.  Ok, saying all the violence is a stretch.  But it’s interesting.

And then you see the ascension of Mother Monster.  It’s fucking genius.  I really admire the way this woman tells a story.

Not so casual

What is the difference between casual sex and NSA sex?  I’m getting the impression that I should stop advertising for casual sex.  I’m not very casual.  I’m very intense.  But I don’t need promises.  I don’t need someone to start planning around me.  I can’t meet anyone else’s on-going needs right now.  I’m not really meeting the needs of everyone in my life and I don’t need to feel like more of a failure.  I have nothing left to give.  I’m out trying to get my needs met and there is a fairly limited amount of reciprocation available for that.

I don’t want to shut my mouth and avoid frightening topics so I can fuck people who otherwise wouldn’t be interested in me.  No thanks.  That’s not ever going to be my role again.  I am not a generic hole.  I am a particular taste and not everyone likes it.  That’s ok.

It’s really weird to sit with my feelings around hunting.  I feel like I want this with a disproportionate intensity to what I should be feeling right now.  I’m acting like it is a failing on my part that there aren’t hoards of people interested in me.  Maybe that’s the wrong approach.  I don’t have time for hoards of people and telling them I’m not interested is hard too.  Better that only people who are serious candidates make it past the first screening.  So far that seems to be working out.  But it means being patient.

A lot of the problem is I’m sending out weird mixed signals.  I want aggression but not pain.  I want fairly quick transition into sex but I want someone who is intensely interested in sex with me not generic sex.  This is why I’m not hunting in any of my known pools.  I don’t think it works out to be so demanding with people I already know.  They have expectations and experiences of me that I don’t want to have to plan around.  I’m going to avoid my previous partners for a while because I’m skittish about the pain stuff.  I don’t know how to hunt for people who want to make me feel nice things instead of pain.

I have some first dates scheduled.  We’ll see how those go.  I have one person I’m already going to follow up on after Christmas because she is so darn interesting.  Then maybe it’s time to take a break for a while.  I’m not finding what I want and I’m about to have less time.  It’s time for a new phase.  This is taking too much time for what I am getting out of it.  The cost is too high and the payoff is too low.  Gosh it’s a good thing I never have to be celibate again.

And I have to say that my opinions on this topic are heavily colored by the fact that Noah did something last night he hasn’t done before.  It was really hot.

(tmi) I’m going to need a score card.

12/8: first date. okcupid person.  excellent long emails.  we've been conversing for a couple of weeks.
12/9: spending time with a friend followed by a hot date at a womens bdsm party.  I win.
12/12: first date with person I know through mutual friends.  This may be the most intimidating thing on the agenda.  
12/15: first date. okcupid person.  few messages but his profile sounds like he may be exactly what I wanted for a one-night stand.  

I uhhh probably shouldn't go out on another date before Christmas.  I didn't mean for them to all get bunched up like this.  Goodness.

Stop bitching.

It occurs to me that I mean something specific when I say: stop bitching.  I think other people may mean different things.  It’s time to define terms.  In this post I talk about why people should compare abuse.  I need to elaborate more, I’m good with that.

I do not mean that people should suck it up and continue to be abused because things aren’t that bad.  Ever.  Never ever ever.  I mean that people should stop bitching and start acting.  Bitching, to me, is complaining about the same situation year after year without any effort to change things.  This is one of those areas where I’m not popular in Domestic Violence conversations.  Because people tell me at great length how hard it is to leave.  I may not be the best person to talk to.  There are other people who can be more sympathetic to that point of view.  I don’t want to stomp on people.  I’ve had strong experiences that color my voice.  If you at any point feel like I am telling you that you deserve what you are getting or that you should stay please know that it is your own insecurity.  I don’t think that.

But I do think you need to get the fuck out.  I think that planning is awesome.  To me there is a difference between bitching and complaining.  I complain a lot, I have no problem with complaining.  Complaining changes over time.  You aren’t still talking about the exact same behavior situation ten years later.  If you have been married to an abusive asshole for twenty years and you say the same things about his behavior over and over then you are bitching.  Change something.  If you don’t want to leave, put your fucking foot down.  The person you are in a relationship with has no impetus to change unless you force the issue.  They will not magically become nice some day out of the kindness of their heart.  If he’s verbally abusive and you are tired of hearing it start wearing ear plugs.  Seriously.

If you notice that you are saying the exact same complaints as you did five years ago it’s time to change things.  Seriously.  Take responsibility for your life.  It’s yours to live.  No one else.  If you are unhappy with your life what do you want it to be like?  I don’t mean lottery fantasies, though I have them.  I mean what are small sustainable steps you can take?  Where do you want to be in five years?

I think that lack of forward planning is part of the reason people get stuck.  They never get into the nitty gritty of what it would take to change their life.  It is hard.  Very hard.  Life is hard sometimes.  Harder for some than for others always.

I do not think that people should take abuse and shut up.  I think they should stop taking abuse.  If you choose to stay in an abusive relationship, that’s a choice.  Own it.  Figure out what you can do to make the situation work for you.  Find a way to come to peace with your choices and stop bitching.

Get involved with your community.  That is the most important piece for abuse victims, in my opinion.  If you know you are never going to leave your abusive piece of shit husband even though you should… go find something to do with your time.  Find a volunteer project.  Get out of your house and away from that man and find something to do that you can feel good about.

I walk around my neighborhood with trash bags cleaning up.  It’s a random thing.  It’s rare that people notice.  But it’s important to me.  It’s something that I am concretely doing that makes the world a better place.  I can go do it today.  I need no help from anyone else.  I don’t have to organize or commit.  But at the end I have this little feeling of goodness.  I know who and what I am.  No one can take it away from me.  I am a caring person.  I do things that are invisible to other people and I keep a tally in my head.  Ok fine, other people may not appreciate it.  I do.  It’s part of the bulwark of my self-esteem.

If you want to be able to talk about your shitty husband, at least change the complaints.  You need to grow and change as a person.  You can choose how you feel about situations.  You can develop internal bulwarks against abuse.  You can know in the pit of your stomach who and what you are without changing any part of your life.  This will also lead to a cessation of bitching.  Think very hard about what you actually do with your behavior.  Make lists.  Decide for yourself what kind of person you are.

If you are told you are worthless, go pick up garbage in your neighborhood.  It’s a thankless job.  No one will notice.  But you know that you aren’t worthless.  It’s a task that needs to be done and you did it.  You didn’t pass the buck until someone else was paid for it.  You provided effort into the universe.  You can go home and smile a little smile of joy to yourself.  Don’t tell people you did it.  They tend to look at you funny and ask why you bothered.  You know who you are.  No one can take who you are away from you without your permission.

Build yourself up.  Find a way to create an internal life that gives you freedom.  I don’t mean escapism.  I don’t mean drugs.  I don’t mean reading popcorn books.  I mean find a way to know that you are putting good energy out into the universe.  Do something that you feel proud of.  It will change how you talk about yourself and your life.  You will stop bitching.  You will stop bitching because you will feel less bitter.

I complain a lot.  It’s a bad habit.  I write similar stories about my family year after year.  Of course I try to justify myself a lot.  People are like that.  I am trying very hard to get to the place where I am not bitching about my family any more.  I talk about them.  I explore my feelings, but I’m not bitching because I have changed my perspective and how I talk about them and even what I say substantially.

I think people should talk about their abuse situations extensively.  I think they should examine their own experience as many times as they need to move on.  Moving on means changing your life and going and doing something else.  It means stopping the abuse.  Somehow.  I don’t feel like I’m a great person to give advice on how to stop abuse.  I have followed the scorched earth policy.  It’s not required in most cases. I don’t really know exactly what other people should do.  That’s not my story.

Noah told me once that if you couldn’t look back on yourself 18 months ago and say, “Man I sucked” you aren’t working hard enough.  That pretty much summarizes my approach to life.  In no way shape or form do I think people should shut up and take abuse.  People are too important for that.

Best day in months

Every so often I don't want to say something on blogger.  Yay lj.  Yesterday I dropped off money towards a new venture that will change a lot of the focus of my life.  I'm really excited.  It's pretty darn big.  And then… when I got home… I found a message from someone I have known in the scene for about 8 years.  It's hilarious to me that I have known her that long.  But I digress.  She's uhm, gorgeous.  And ridiculously skilled as both a top and a bottom when it comes to rope.  Like I'd pit her against Tom any day.  And she asked me out on a date.  *swoon*  We'll see how that goes.  I said YES. YES.  PLEASE OH PLEASE GOD YES.  😀  I'm excited.

And then I woke up this morning and found that a new-ish friend invited me to go to a womens party with her.  She's pretty damn cute so I'm not saying no.

How in the hell did it start raining girls?  I'm not complaining.  I'm celebrating.  It's been a long time since I was interesting to a woman.  I may have forgotten how this goes.  Oh gosh.

I'm so excited I'm bouncing.  My life is pretty wonderful.

Feelings. part 2

I’m having a lot of feelings today.  Anger.  Frustration.  Sadness.  Irritation.  Elation.  Joy.  Contentment.  Excitement.  Fascination.  Ambitious.  Cockiness.

It all just depends what part of the story you tell, doesn’t it?  Isn’t all of life that way?  Today is my biological mother’s birthday.  I love you mom.  I hope that today brings you some joy.  I hope there are people out there who can find joy in your continued life.

Do you know what moving on means?  It means you go do something else.  I’m not going to take joy in my mother’s continued existence today.  I am going to go talk to my psychiatrist instead.  I’m going to talk to her about how the cessation of smoking is going.  Cold turkey didn’t happen and shouldn’t, in my opinion.  I’m too volatile right now.  Changing any habit is easier when done in steps.  I’m trying to figure out what the best steps are.

The Ativan is a mixed blessing.  It completely wipes me out.  It makes me non-functional.  And it just makes me tired and sad instead of angry and sad.  So who knows.  Not sure it is the best choice ever.  The best choice ever is to move the fuck on with my life and stop using any drug.  I’m not there yet. Honestly the reason I haven’t stopped smoking is because it is a mild mood enhancer I can have any time.  I need an instant jump of ‘more cheerful’ a few times a day if I don’t want to freak out around the kids.  And it makes me feel more distractible from my thoughts.  I don’t get into thought loops around old emotional patterns.

Pot allows me to feel more engaged in the moment because I’m constantly getting distracted and needing to refocus.  It’s counter-intuitive, but it does help.  But it also gives me a lot of time to just sit in the garage by myself.  I dislike smoking.  Most of the time I’m out here I am not smoking.  I’m trying to get to the point where the alone time is as effective as the smoking.  It tends to mean I have to be mentally working on something.  I also think that the pot allows me to not feel guilty about taking the alone time.  I won’t let the kids be near the smoking so that gives me an effective barrier and reason for needing to be alone.  It’s harder to defend the barrier of my space if I just want it because I want it.

I think that is a lot of the problem, right there.  Hunh.  I’m using drugs in order to be allowed private space.  Well, I suppose that was the only separation I had from my mother and sister’s lives.  They kept that completely away from me and otherwise I was totally enmeshed and treated like an adult partner.  Is this really what it means to be an adult?  That you have to be stoned to bear your life?  That kind of sucks.

But that’s not the whole story.  I don’t have to be stoned to enjoy my life.  But I do have to be fully engaged in what I am doing.  Most of my life is treading water.  I’m sorry, but I have the housewife thing down.  It’s boring.  It’s monotonous and it gives me time to run my gears and think intense thoughts but it leaves me with no time or energy to act on any of the things I’m thinking and I get frustrated and angry.  It’s not working.  I can outsource that shit.  Because I am a privileged asshole.

I do have to be stoned to be a hippy housewife.  It’s fucking boring.  I am losing my mind.  But I still want to homeschool.  And I still want to be the primary person hanging out with my kids.  Tricksy.  This will be interesting to navigate.

I’m having a lot of intense thoughts about how my choices are telling me a lot about my childhood.  Most of the women in my family were trapped with children and they had nowhere to go and nothing to do and no money and no help.  If I had to spend the next ten years stuck with my kids with nothing to do and nothing to think about I would be full of rage and victimization too.  I would need to be stoned to deal with that.  I’m to the point where I can say that honestly.  That’s a lot of what I’ve been working through for the past few years.  What do my choices about parenting ideals mean in the context of my life?

It’s an interesting journey.  From here on out I need to stop apologizing for the fact that moving on means having too many things to think about to dwell on the past.  I need to accept that for myself.  I can’t do this live-in-the-moment thing the way other people do.  I can’t just sit here and do what I have always done.  I have to go write my story.  The pattern I’m starting with is broken.

I’m worried about my broken compass.  I’m worried about ignoring my kids in favor of other things.  I think my main focus needs to remain my kids for a long time.  Watching them is allowing me to forgive myself for the things I can’t change.  The things I had no control over.  I used to think I was so powerful.  I wasn’t.

It’s amazing to spend most of my time with my kids because I’m watching them navigate life and I’m talking to them actively about the fact that their agency is increasing day by day.  I talk to them about the fact that right now, they really don’t get to have much control and the reason is because they can’t see the larger pattern.  I’m always making my decisions for them with an eye on the larger pattern.  I try very hard to make every word out of my mouth something that I will think was the right thing to say in retrospect.  It’s a lot of pressure.  I don’t talk much on days when I’m being bitchy in my head.

So I have to have better things to think about.

There is a part of the story where Noah asked me to marry him that I don’t talk about much.  He also asked me to be his slave.  I told him I would marry him, but I wouldn’t be his slave yet.  I am taking the long-term-view of training your own top.  I want someone who has had the kind of experiences I am creating in our life.  I want something very specific.  Owning a slave is complicated.  I want to ensure that he is up for the process.  He’s not yet.

But he’s getting closer.  It’s interesting to me how having that as a thread in the tapestry changes a lot of the story.  My personal goals.  What I will put up with on the side.

It’s interesting trying to figure out what being a main character means in my life.  I want to homeschool my kids and watch them grow up.  I want to grow.  I have things I need to do.  I have so much nervous energy that I need to go do something with it or I will explode my life.  Just for spite.  I will and I know it.  And Noah knows it too.  So he’s handing me good shoes and telling me to sprint.  It’s weird thinking about the evolution of a person.  Trying to change the direction of it consciously.  In order to direct who I will become I have to think very carefully about who I was made to be.  I have to think about how to change the patterns in my life.  I have to figure out what my default reactions are before I can usefully change them.

I have this broken compass.  I think.  I call it.  Why do I call it a broken compass?  Because it was pointing me in the wrong directions.  Is it really broken though?  I got out.  I have gone far.  I followed nothing but my own internal drive to get the fuck away.  Looking at where I am in my life compared to where I came from… is it really broken?

Other people tell me that I don’t have to be how I am.  I could choose to be different.  Well, yes.  What’s your point?  Usually that they don’t think they would make the same choices as me.  That’s fine.  What’s your point?

You take the opportunities you see.  You follow the life path that appears before you.  Or you sit at home waiting.  This kind of thing is largely determined by who you know.  That’s just how life works.  If I’m going to move on from the spot I am in that will involve contact with communities I can’t join with kids.  That’s my life path.  I want to have the grown-up-only life.  I’m trying to figure out how that will work.

I am not going to serve someone until that someone has things for me to manage that are worthy of my time and attention.  I am not a house slave.  Sorry.  It’s not my forté.  I have other skills.  I know I do.  I need to hone them.  I need to figure out what I really have to offer.  I need to find out what it is like when I am taking up as much space as I need to take up.  I don’t even know.

This is going to be hard because I need to go make mistakes.  Fast.  In a hurry.  In a lot of different parts of my life and I need to figure out how to be accountable for them.  It’s not all that fun.

So many different threads through the tapestry.  So many feelings.  How do I tell the story in a way that is respectful to everyone involved?  I haven’t touched on a lot of why I’m having feelings.  I can’t.  I don’t know how to tell the truth about those things yet and I don’t want to lie.  That’s kind of weird to admit.

I smoked very little this morning because I need to drive up to the city.  Instead I’ve babbled too much about nothing at all.  So many feelings.  I should probably go take a shower now.  It’s time to move on.