Happily single…it sounds like an oxymoron, doesn’t it?

Hollywood is experiencing a major baby boom! From A-list actors to super models and ordinary post pubescent Kenyans. The earth thanks you Beyoncé and Mr. Knowles for setting that trend. Have we made planet Mars habitable yet? Am almost certain overpopulation is going to surpass global warming as a threat to humanity; at this rate we do not only need to reduce our carbon footprints, we need fewer feet.

or baby Ivy Blue

On a relatable note, what is with this “baby” burst among my peers? It seems like everywhere I look; there is a baby bump or baby profile pictures and who the hell is baby-crazy in their early 20’s?! I would be crying into my soup if I was 30yr with 2 or 3 cats but my biological clock is that far from going off. I love babies; they are simply the most adorable creatures in the universe, with their gummy grins and tiny feet. I am guessing all this is designed to make you forget that these crotch-fruits are incessant pits of need! Giant parasites that use up all your resources (if you even have anything at 20something), and do nothing in return but scream for absolutely no reason at! Why my age mates are having babies? Either condoms are defective (hello Catholics!) or those emergency birth control pills that are being popped like tic-tacs every other weekend have ceased to work because I am almost certain you are not all dumb enough to have unprotected sex in these times.

Okay, does this high horse I rode in on make my bum look fat? *chuckles* I reckon wolf and I would have our own brood of finger babies by now if it was possible…you know, homosexuality being the most effective contraceptive and all. (Take that, unplanned pregnancy!).

WHHHYYYY???!!!

I am happily single. No one believes me. I have always been that creature too prone to passionate excess to thrive within the conjugal yoke (except with my wolf); being unattached better suits my character and disposition. At the moment, I am much more “contained”, it helps that wolf and I agree that good sex shouldn’t go to waste just because of a break up. Distance and deprivation has also fuelled our longing for each other.  Every time my phone beeps my heart does a front flip into my mouth…all that extra weight sitting on my parched tongue … Those random weekends of payback shag are a godsend! Payback in the sense of vengeance as well as reward; infused into these passions are tones of both gratitude and retribution.

sshhhh!

It’s fantastic! Thinking about it makes me want to light a cigarette! Damn! I do get why they say you are not supposed to marry the best sex of your life, it simply shows you are pushing each other’s dysfunctional buttons.  There is also this sense of safety that we have developed, a safety so deep it means we can say anything without calculating what we both stand to lose. It sure feels that way on my end. No more biting my nails over a foreboding brain to mouth filter malfunction.

Dates: I hate first dates. Always have. The anxiety, awkwardness and the tedious small talk! Oh first dates are insufferable! Plus I do not think who I am fits in with first dates! I am comfortable putting it all out there, no holds barred. When I feel something, I want to explore it, without boundaries or squinty judgmental eyes. Also not a fun of dressing up and using a knife and fork, (makes eating so impersonal); I would rather be stuffing my face with a humongous juicy burger dripping with condiments and shrieking delightfully   any day! The absolute poster child of what not to do or say on first dates!

"are you from around?

In the past I have gone on horrible first dates and proceeded to enter relationships with people who were glaringly balls to the walls crazy, most times, in a desperate attempt to fill up that hole *wink! Wink! Nudge! Nudge!* she leaves every time she goes. Ever known one of those people who talk and talk…and talk, and the more they talk, the less relevant you become. Their interest in you becomes completely obliterated. They heave forth these thoughts of theirs in a way that totally discounts your existence and you grow bored irritated and, in a curious way, resentful (because you are a closeted attention whore). Or attempted to have a conversation with someone who is the verbal equivalent of huffing paint! Frustrating!  I have only been on one of those since the breakup, for reasons other than “hole-filling”. Wolf admitted a tinge of jealousy, which made me want to punch her in the mouth…with my own mouth…softly…yes I like her…yes STILL. I did stomp on that budding sapiosexual attraction with my abandonment issues boots, for reasons I would rather not discuss, but do not include allowing another woman who clearly has harbored an eternal crush on ‘her’ to tag along on the first date. Awkward cannot begin to describe that. I still ended up soothing and reassuring my date at the end of the day that I liked her better. (You see it too dontcha?)

  It’s not all guns and roses though…I hope I used that phrase right. I miss my best friend; I miss my soul mate…moon of my moon. It breaks my heart every day that no matter what I do, I can never make it up to wolf. I will never deserve that level of love and dedication, not in this life time at least. It’s just me, warts and all.

I am happily single…maybe.  I am neither searching nor am I in a hurry to be found. I am right where I need to be. Believe me.

ALL THE SINGLE LADIES!

DISCLAIMER: (like this is the daily nation. Lol! ) Aforementioned non commitment sexual relationship ceased to exist 2hours after the post went to print. I flew off the handle…again. Am horny.

Alone? Lonely? Liberated?

It’s been a minute… I had writers’ block as thick as thoughts could make ‘em. Then, we had elections marred by tribalism, nepotism, corruption and everything you would expect of an election in a third world country. Alas! No post-election violence; it is surprising considering the negative tribal undertones on social media whereby I learned the presence of  foreskin or lack thereof on a penis does not contribute to the emotional maturity or mental growth of a man. Hey! I’m just saying.

I’m single. Again. For the umpteenth time. (Cue sympathetic oohs). *chuckles*. Truly on my way to becoming the Picasso of loneliness and broken souls. We had already established in previous posts that I am a flight risk when it comes to relationships. I guess I saw this one coming this time which would explain why I am not so torn up about it; wishing Wolf would get her next period in a shark tank!

I am mostly to blame too. I wouldn’t give her the one thing a Wolf needs…a Wolf whose emotional walls can be seen from space!…I wouldn’t listen…without overreacting; ESPECIALLY when I was somewhat involved.

My Pandora’s box of emotional baggage and psychological damage was also pried open a little.  I will take you through what I have and might possibly still have stashed in there.

Abandonment issues:  just to be clear, I am not a dumpster baby *chuckles*. This does explains why I am always the one to leave (before I am left). I never give my partners a chance to know me because of that crippling fear once they know the real me, they will leave. Why I love the chase, that titillating pre-relationship state but once it goes to the next stage I withdraw emotionally. (Never happened with Wolf). The perfectionist in me…I know it’s not so obvious but I crave perfection and when I fail my soul dies a little. Wolf can attest to that. The need to perfect at blogging, dressing, listening, studies, body type etc. which is probably why I got so wrapped up in my head at the end. I couldn’t take one more complaint, criticism or any funny random comment that could be construed as “YOU SUCK RED!!”

Daddy issues: don’t even say it!  Characterized by; Aggressive flirtation, exhibitionism tendencies, promiscuity and a bunch of emotional hang-ups. I like my daddy issues! I am a fantastic lay because I tap into these issues! Though full disclosure- I do not let strangers feel me up or flash my crotch at school children. (It happens). That’s all am saying.

Self-esteem issues; Well, I can explain that. I was an ugly duckling growing up all the way through high school then I blossomed into this beautiful, smart swan just learning to love and accept herself and you know what they say about old habits so back off my balls!

There were many other smaller seemingly insignificant issues that I care not to go into but generally pointed at the fact that I am not a very good emotional tampon and to quote Wolf “I should date a stone.” My suffocating brand of love was threatening to suck the life out of her. So Wolf left me, at the cupid bus station, twiddling my thumbs. Pity party of one: open bar *chuckles* .

This post was inspired by Whitney, the sitcom produced by Whitney Cummings. She has 7 butt loads baggage, she doesn’t try to cover up the crazymcloonytoons, she laughs at her pain and occasionally she tries to be a better woman for her man (Alex) . He does encourage her and appreciates every effort she makes. It must be hard to try change part of yourself. She almost always makes him stark raving mad too but he’s never given up on her. It is adorable but no man like that exists I know. On that subject, I came across this quote: “There is nothing more rewarding in this world than…someone seeing all of you and accepting it as it is. “I’ll take the one with the beautiful dents that likes to cry at commercials. I see potential in this one.” You take me and I take you. Sold!”

I thought if I subjected this blog to soliloquies on my gripe du jour (fancy eh?) I would essentially be laughing at my pain…you would laugh with me and maybe with time I would get over my issues and be this all rounded individual who brings comfort and joy to her loved ones instead of some drug addicted narcissistic black hole of need I am in danger of becoming. To be someone Wolf would have loved unconditionally. Yes I miss Wolf, and it’s sad that I lost my Wolf this time indefinitely.

Date a girl who reads by Rosemarie Urquico

“You should date a girl who reads

Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends
her money on books instead of clothes. She has
problems with closet space because she has too
many books. Date a girl who has a list of books
she wants to read, who has had a library card
since she was twelve.

 
Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does
because she will always have an unread book in
her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the
shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly
cries out when she finds the book she wants.
You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an
old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the
reader. They can never resist smelling the
pages, especially when they are yellow and worn.

She’s the girl reading while waiting in that
coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek
at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating
on top because she’s kind of engrossed already.
Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit
down. She might give you a glare, as most girls
who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her
if she likes the book.

Buy her another cup of coffee.

Let her know what you really think of
Murakami. See if she got through the first
chapter of Fellowship. Understand that if she
says she understood James Joyce’s Ulysses she’s
just saying that to sound intelligent. Ask her if
she loves Alice or she would like to be Alice.

It’s easy to date a girl who reads. Give her

books for her birthday, for Christmas and for
anniversaries. Give her the gift of words, in
poetry, in song. Give her Neruda, Pound,
Sexton, Cummings. Let her know that you
understand that words are love. Understand
that she knows the difference between books
and reality but by god, she’s going to try to
make her life a little like her favorite book. It
will never be your fault if she does.

She has to give it a shot somehow.

Lie to her. If she understands syntax, she will
understand your need to lie. Behind words are
other things: motivation, value, nuance,
dialogue. It will not be the end of the world.
Fail her. Because a girl who reads knows that
failure always leads up to the climax. Because
girls who read understand that all things will come
to end, but you can always write a sequel. That
you can begin again and again and still be the
hero. That life is meant to have a villain or two.
Why be frightened of everything that you are
not? Girls who read understand that people,
like characters, develop. Except in
the Twilight series.

If you find a girl who reads, keep her close.
When you find her up at 2 AM clutching a book
to her chest and weeping, make her a cup of
tea and hold her. You may lose her for a couple
of hours but she will always come back to you.
She’ll talk as if the characters in the book are
real, because for a while, they always are.
You will propose on a hot air balloon. Or during
a rock concert. Or very casually next time she’s
sick. Over Skype.

You will smile so hard you will wonder why
your heart hasn’t burst and bled out all over
your chest yet. You will write the story of your
lives, have kids with strange names and even
stranger tastes. She will introduce your
children to the Cat in the Hat and Aslan, maybe
in the same day. You will walk the winters of
your old age together and she will recite Keats
under her breath while you shake the snow off
your boots.

Date a girl who reads because you deserve it.

You deserve a girl who can give you the most
colorful life imaginable. If you can only give
her monotony, and stale hours and half-baked
proposals, then you’re better off alone. If you
want the world and the worlds beyond it, date a
girl who reads.
Or better yet, date a girl who writes.

Who died and made you GOD?

Religion is a central element in civilization that propagates basic values and ethical codes which provide integration to personality and cohesion to society. It plays an important role in the society.  This, unfortunately, is gradually turning into an excuse to exercise appalling barbarity. “If Christ was here, there is one thing he would not be; a Christian.”-Mark Twain- (he was an atheist eh?)

I do not want to stereotype a vast and diverse segment of the world population, but from personal experience…those who purport to be staunch “saved” Christians are the meanest pricks out there.  Have they always been this harsh, judgmental and intolerant and am I just starting to notice? Is Christianity deteriorating into a phony empty and hollow to the core religion? 

Who are these Christians? You pose that question.

These Christians who practice selective morality, where what suits them  and is palatable they cling to like saran wrap and shove down other people’s throats then ignore silently what is  obnoxious, inconvenient or self  denying. Excuse: applicable only to people who lived 2000 years ago. These bible thumping Christians, who will test you and wear you down to a few vertebrae and a pool cerebral spinal fluid, with randomly crammed verses to appear more superior in knowledge of God’s word. These Christians who give to the poor to be recognized by fellow men…posting your visit to children homes photos on every social site you can find.

Let one with no sin cast the first stone? That verse has obviously been omitted in most of your holy books. Born again Christians, quick to condemn sexual immorality (homosexuality) but are not too concerned about their lust. I will stay on this…obviously. If I can remember from my scanty knowledge of the bible, it says, ALL sex outside marriage is a sin. It doesn't matter if you have a long time “saved” boyfriend/girlfriend, you’re divorced, widowed or having same sex relations. It’s all sin and no sin is greater than the other. So where do these Christians get off calling homosexuals all sorts of derogatory unprintable filth in the name of “hating the sin, not the sinner.” Treating animals better than fellow human beings. Appointing yourselves as judge, jury and executioner. WHO DIED AND MADE YOU GOD?

You act like you are immune to wrong doing and sin. One barely sees past the huge mahogany logs jutting out of their eyes but they can clearly see the speck in their neighbors’ eye? Eh? Do not lie to us boss; you go on putting emphasis on the tiniest of religious details and ignore the most important and basic truths that this Christ you claim has saved you taught: love for God, secondly love for your neighbor. 

I do not go to church. I did not like it every time I tried. What with people prancing in like show ponies; cliques, I kid you not, like high school. The preaching of two faced idealism then passing these teachings off as “God’s personal feelings” (God hates fags). The intense focus on getting converts which ended up making me feel like a target to fulfill a quota rather than a spiritually impoverished human being. Being guilt tripped from here to Timbuktu about getting “saved” or baptized. What of the speaking in tongues, barking, holy laughter, convulsing and all that jazz…its loud, confusing, I can barely hear my own petition with all that going on and its arrogant to assume that certain spiritual experiences make you  better than everybody else . Pride: one of the seven deadly sins. It’s okay to be proud to be a Christian, but not en route to a put-down of your neighbor; “I am saved because of it but you are headed straight for hell to burn in sulfur and brimstone*smirks*.” All that and etcetera was enough to turn me off worldly churches and into my personal quiet time to commune with God without secondhand dilution by some middleman with an agenda.

I am calling on all of you to question the validity of calling yourselves Christians.  Where is the problem? Is your faith something you were born into; you know how to act, what to say but it wasn’t your choice, consequently it’s not real? Do you view your faith as intellectual knowledge and behavioral compliance, where you follow all the given rules and regulations (loopholes) but your hearts do not reflect that? Sowing seeds of tribalism and homophobia wherever you step, that shit is not cool. You are risking peoples’ lives, especially those who are in support of that Ugandan bill where homosexuality is punishable by death if that bill is passed. Non Christians seem nice and more caring than you lot; probably because their consciences are stronger and clearer.

Nothing seems to faze you though; your life is secure in heaven. Who gives a flying rat’s arse eh? At this point those suicide bombing jihadist people are looking pretty good from here. They actually give up their lives for what they believe in…they die and go away. We are stuck with this brand of mean spirited hypocritical cunts day in day out, with all that hate, negativity and judgment.

Jesus Christ simplified it for all of us. LOVE. Spread that gospel this election season, won’t you?

KISSED A FROG BEFORE?

Being single, especially after being in an exasperating, emotionally drenching, unfulfilling relationship is great; fantastic even. Up to the point where you get lonely and forget somebody’s bad qualities. You even think you miss them; get back with them and it's plain awful! A fine example of Rihanna, lovely dame, with the kind of bruised sensuous beauty that incites male aggression and the rancor of unfulfilled desires…bottom line: she can GET IT, ALL OF IT! -and she did. Unfortunately, not in the titillating BDSM way we all imagined.  By the time Chris Brown was done, her right eye was lost in the swelling flesh that had been her face and her clothes were soaked in her blood, snot and tears. Who knew Chris Brown was such a massive douche bag! Months down the line here she is, shining bright like a diamond , right next to the guy who had the cahones to tattoo her battered face on his neck, barely before his bruised knuckles had healed…like some kind of sociopathic trophy!  

The nerve!

I do not mean to reprove her actions; though I would give an arm to know what in the goddamn universe is Chris Brown giving her; citing that she is already beautiful, talented, rich and famous. We have at some point in life pulled a Rihanna, not necessarily in the extreme face battering sense. I for one am guilty of kissing the same douche-y frog twice. This week I am in the mood of exorcising those ego-bruising memories. In retrospect, I honestly doubt this woman ever gave a flying rat’s arse about me. Obviously, there were glaring warning signs, which for the life of me I don’t know why I ignored. Here goes my long-awaited bitch-fest!!

This post pubescent emotional bully would make snide comments about my body size or lack thereof. Lord knows how much that gets on my nerves. “Put down the cupcake then we can talk” (am I right??!). In what universe is this considered foreplay? Undress a woman then derisively call her pimple-chested with boy hips and expect to tap that?? (According to Wolf’s knowing hands, I am sufficiently endowed in those areas; well beyond training bras and padded underwear). If I did give a hoot about her lack of a filter, I would have kicked her in the lady balls and stomped away in a huff. But I didn’t care, and I was no more evolved than an alley cat on heat then. (*chuckle*) She was a walking contradiction especially since she would bash and make rude remarks about plus-sized women yet she wasn’t exactly a size 10. I never understood what that was about.

Another irritating behavior was constantly bringing up stale tales of exotic melon breasted women who were after her (for some reason, they sounded like they had gigantic synthetic porn star breasts!!), how many she had had carnal knowledge of and then in the same breath say I am a player, with a hint of accusation in her voice. She was mean-spirited too. One time she said my finger felt like a baby’s penis inside her. Total lady bone killer! I never made an attempt to pleasure her again after that. I was absolutely comfortable with being a pillow queen with her rather than get Carpal Tunnel Syndrome for thankless work though it was unfamiliar territory for me. I could live without the physical aspect of the relationship. It wasn’t exactly toe-curling! I don’t understand how some women do that; just lie there like a sack of potatoes and wait to spew forth cum. Don’t you get terribly bored? I will not even get into her Mercurial temperament. It would have been like living with the Hulk had I dared U-haul that one.

I finally had it to my pubes when this heifer went to the extreme of asking if she could make squelches with my younger teenage sister. The sheer nerve, regardless of whether she was joking or not (she wasn't) . I was so mad my butt twitched every time I thought of her. I suppose that would make her an ephebophile, which still sounds as rapy as pedophile.  Even Wolf‘s highly perceptive sense of people hadn't made me realize I was dating a vapid shallow black hole of a human being until then. It wasn't worth the short term happiness and superficiality I was striving for. I cut my losses and headed for the hills.

I had hardly healed when I met her couple of months later in town, uterus to her knees with child stomping around with the grace of a drunken hippo (she wasn't really that big I am just being mean; let me have it). I was more relieved than shocked. Given, I didn't even know she swung that way! The baby twinkie jab finally made sense; she could eat a bag of wieners for all I cared now! I believe I dodged a bullet with her and I was very grateful; who knows? She could have potentially risked my health by having undercover, black ops, unprotected sex with men. With all that cathartic venting aside, I wasn't the least bit deterred as I still went on to explore the deepest recesses of a few frog mouths before I finally let Wolf yank me from the cold moss covered pond and make an honest woman out of me.

FIFTY SHADES OF SOMETHING…

I don’t have girlfriends…let me rephrase that. I don’t have a coven of b/witches to hide behind as I fling poop at the unsuspecting masses *chuckles*. At least that’s what I have observed to be the main purpose of girlfriends since high school.  Look at somebody the wrong way in the dining hall and as soon as night preps are concluded, a search party is sent to your room, complete with dogs and trench coats, as you camp out in another house/dorm. In the event these gossipy superficial mean spirited materialists don’t find you, they are likely to overturn your beddings as a message, or wait for the next entertainment session and throw a shoe at your head as soon as lights go off in the TV room. Okay I may have exaggerated a little. You do (have to) agree there is something about having cronies that make individuals seem invincible and develop balls the size of melons.  

The desire to tend and befriend is ingrained in most females; but I don’t have friends… I have individual friends, just not that kind of “crony-ship”. The kind that you seek advice from, provide love hugs and a heartfelt primary support in times of distress e.g. when Wolf and I broke up once again for the umpteenth time. For the first time ever I resented my precious autonomy. Suddenly the surround sound bitching, the over familiarity and toxic over-sharing didn’t look that exasperating.

If you still think I let slip my break up without making a melodramatic gabfest out of it, You-should-know-people *chuckles*. Wolf and I annulled the unceasing onslaught of dysfunction we called a relationship. Oh hold onto your knickers foxes, it was for a minute; still spoken for. I went through the five stages of loss and I will share.

Denial and isolation: it is a normal reaction to attempt to rationalize overwhelming emotions. I initially wanted to believe it was just a rough patch. We were good together. Nobody just throws away 2 years over a lovers tiff, right? Wrong.

Anger: masking effects of denial and isolation begin to wear, reality and pain rears its ugly head. At this point, you want to curve a new fuck hole on a bitch’s torso and fist it! I refused to fully acknowledge this part of the process. My own anger terrifies me, so I tend to suppress it a lot of times. Wolf says I bottle up too much and just like a shaken can of soda, I will explode when I get the chance. I definitely don’t look forward to that.

Bargaining:  A need to regain control: The “if only I had” stage. If only I had given Wolf an outlet to vent frustrations with me. If only I hadn’t stayed home that fateful weekend. If only I was a demi-goddess…

Depression:  sadness and regret. I was a cluster of raw nerves, like a giant penis tip. Adverts on TV made me cry. I cried myself to the verge of dehydration a couple of times. Without Wolf, I felt like a brain damaged mule, lost in the desert, striking out alone for the first time. Every time I remembered all the Kodak moments we had, I curled up into a ball and screeched into my pillow.

Acceptance: withdrawal and calm set in. I involved myself in non-stimulating activities, which are only used in Manhattan to calm down drug addicts and the criminally insane (Robin Sherbatsky: HIMYM). I had no capacity for idle talk at this point. Although the masochist and the lover in me wanted Wolf back, I was not going to force, cajole, plead, beg, threaten or/and guilt trip her from here to Timbuktu. I started to let go…my resolve didn’t last, obviously. (I was having a serious case of vag-alzheimers too he he)

Relationships are like doorknobs. No instructions. You are just supposed to know what to do. Yet they always seem so complicated. Ours in particular is Fifty Shades of Grey like, Icarus flying too close to the sun (yes am reading the trilogy, thanks to Wolf and my friend Nelson for the PERFECT birthday gifts). All I know is we are nutbuggersMcloonytoons over each other. If we ever crash and burn, I will probably need years of therapy and electro-shock to get over it. My demon danced with Wolf’s devil and the fiddlers tune is far from over.

I still want friends…need that group of friends strictly from the LGBTI community. It is proving harder each day to be myself around straight folk. There is always a judgmental-hear-no-evil-see-no-evil-vibe they give off. In as much as Wolf is convinced we are not a “people couple” simply because every time I decide we should expand our non-existent social circle, we end up retreating into our own little world, close off and get engrossed in each other the whole time. Bid present company goodbye to “talk” more behind closed doors. I just have to muster the courage to step out of my comfort zone fast. Accepting applications drop your resumes!!! HAPPYNEW YEAR!!!