Seems Vegeta is not suicidal, just socially retarded. He wanted back in. Not only did he want back in, but thought he had a chance of getting there without doing anything to win back my trust and respect. I tried to keep it light. I really did.
He is so ashamed of me that he backed down from the public meeting. He apparently thinks I’m stupid too because he’s claiming that he didn’t really dump me because we didn’t really have a relationship. No, he just dropped the thermonuclear older-non-Jew bomb and dropped out of contact for a year and a half because he wanted to see me again. LOL!
Thank you Roissy. Thank you from the bottom of my gravy smothered chicken fried heart.
Thank you. You have saved me from a fate worse than the wall: burnt out cougarhood.
You know those television shows where weird stuff happens, and the main character eventually figures out that they’re dead, in a box of animated dolls, or on a spaceship?
Well, at the moment, I’m looking over my shoulder for large ant-like creatures with notepads or something. I just got a call from Vegeta, the stealth ars who thought our relationship was unhealthy because I’m not Jewish, and I’m about 10 years older than him.
I’d laugh if I wasn’t concerned that maybe this is a sign that he’s suicidal or bipolar and about to crash. I fought back the urge to say something incredibly mean like, “I’m still not Jewish, and still older than you.” Maybe he figures enough time has passed that the past doesn’t have to be taken personally, and just wants to make sure we’re cool. I hope that’s it because I prefer to have honest peace with people.
Again, thanks to Roissy and others, I understand why it happened, and that it’s just a man thing and not a malicious him personally wanting to harm me personally. It’s no excuse, but if I knew then what I know now, I wouldn’t have been dumb enough to go there more than once. Since I am older, it was kind of up to me to know better, but I was in some kind of thyroid hormone shortage haze that didn’t allow me to see the reality of the situation.
See, for those who don’t know, arsim and their female counterparts, frechot, are like the popular kids at school and their followers. Instead of getting over themselves at the end of high school though, they’re kind of stuck there in this world where if you’re not one of them, you’re a nerd, and that actually means something.
Even though technically, by profession and mentality he is a !!!!!!!!!!FLAMING NERD of DOOM!!!!!!!!!!! he dresses and apparently socializes ars. So he’s like the nerd who hangs out with the popular kids who maybe copy his homework or something.
I don’t know what to think, so I’ll just wait and see what happens. Maybe he’s trying to decide whether or not he wants to shake off his ass crack acid wash jeans and short shirts, and buy some pants that cover his whole butt. He’s agreed to meet me in public. That’s a good sign that I’m in the friend zone, so it should be pretty safe. However, considering that meeting me anywhere people could see us was a fate worse than death for him only a year ago, it doesn’t help me to worry less.
Maybe this is something he’s doing because his rabbi told him to or something. I don’t know what it is, but I just want to see with my own eyes that he’s not carving Marilyn Manson lyrics into his arms or something.
Me: Neither you nor any of the other lightweights here could fade me.
Him: Lightweight? Me? Getting confident I see…
Me: The weak are confident. The strong are qualified.
Heh heh heh.
It’s been about a year since the refrigerator kiss. Since then, I thought about changing Slick’s nickname to Hannibal, but he hasn’t earned that, at least not yet. He’d have a chance if he got his parasite under control, but until then, he’s one of those guys I just have to drool about from afar.
It’s going to get harder this year because this is the year I move to the next phase of my diet: portion control. If the cosmetic aspects weren’t important to me, I wouldn’t go there, but I am kind of vain in my way. I’m an artist, and I want to transform myself into a living work of art…sanely but still.
As I write, I’m in a bit of pain, and freezing even though it’s 66 degrees here. I’ve started working out in the morning instead of the evening, and so I had to take a cold shower, which didn’t help. “That which does not kill us…” though. I’ve survived worse.
While my hormones were shifting, I went through a very non sexual phase, but I’ve gotten back to normal. Yet I feel less screwed than I did a few days ago, when the Shai issues became apparent. I thought of the older couples I know where one partner or the other has had a bad heart attack, stroke, cancer, or something, and calmed down. So I’ll have a longer run than most of a celibate marriage, but that’s just the circle of life. At least he’s otherwise well, and for this I am very grateful. I don’t see my life without him.
For my sanity though, I may have to have occasional spot treatments. I’ll just go with the flow on that, but I’m not lowering my standards as far as ethics. No legally obligated clients of whores. My extracurriculars are going to be restricted to the poly community.
The bad news is that in Israel, it is very small. Most of them are swingers in the bad, emotionally disconnected way, not the free love way. So I still have to tread carefully. I’d easier for me to sort them out within the community though. A small world means that someone’s reputation isn’t too difficult to find out.
As if they could smell my estrogen in the air (or are reading my blog), my former bitches and cars (catch-and-release) have started lining up. I’m not sure what they think they’re going to get out of this. If they thought I was good enough for them, they’d still be here.
It’s just kind of baffling. Even though, thanks to the negativity festival at Roissy’s, I’ve learned a lot, this kind of behavior still confuses me. I’m not so confused about why. What seems bizarre is why they come back even though I tell them very bluntly, that I understand and sympathize, and that this is exactly why they can never touch me again.
They can all do better, as far as conventional standards. I’m not down on myself. I like me, and forgave myself for not being perfect a long time ago. I just understand that even though I’m great, this doesn’t really matter. Greatness, talent, intelligence, etc. only turn on a select few men on this planet. Fame gives you some leaveway, but I think that’s because your net is wider. It’s easier to find the other weirdos when you’re well known and have enough money to be seen above the crowd.
For the rest of us though, if you find out someone you’re with is socially vulnerable, it’s best to throw that one back in the water. It’s too small. It’s sad to me that these small fish who think they’re big fish just because the pond here is small, keep coming back, but with no more maturity or independence than they had when they were released. They’re probably confused as to why I don’t view their attention as a favor.
I don’t but then I do. I mean, I appreciate it in the way that a schoolteacher appreciates an apple from a student. It’s very nice to be recognized on some level, but I know I’m not dealing with someone who feels an appropriate romantic connection with me. I am a distant something they get warmth and positive feelings from. They just can’t really relate to me the way partners should be able to relate to each other. It’s just that in this case, these are adults, but they’re so far from me in mentality that it’s as if I was dealing with children.
I look back on why I got involved with these people in the first place. I was clearly not myself. It seems like now, I’m trying to do a kind of cleanup of messes I made when I was emotionally missing in action. I didn’t have the energy for real, dark, deep anger back then, so I pushed certain things aside, trying to be a nice person. I would say the words, “It is not respectful of someone to coddle them,” but didn’t realize how much of that I was doing.
One of my students some time ago, unknowingly alerted me as to where I was going wrong. She was the one student who chose the shadow self as the Jungian concept to write on for that assignment. I was in denial of my shadow self. It was a part of me I locked up because I thought it would hurt people.
Now I understand that this is a matter of nature acceptance. I am not a good person to mess around with, to put it very mildly. By being too sugary in the initial stages, I was in a sense, luring people into a dangerous situation where they felt it was okay to push me, and would only find out that I had a dark side too late. This is something people should know about me early…that I am a nice person so long as the respect I give others is reciprocated.
I answered way too many flippant texts, and too many calls that came too late at night. I talked too many things out that would have led my true self to just tell them to f*ck off and be done with it. It’s not about being more of a bitch (as in ill tempered woman) to get guys more interested. It’s about being more okay with being bitchy when needed, and if someone loses interest then that’s a good thing because I’m not for them.
I don’t think I’d recommend this as general advice for women. Most women aren’t in my situation or doing the kind of work I do, that requires mad levels of focus and mental room to create and dream. It might be of some use to artists though. Especially if you’re living off of your art, you can’t be burdened with experimental relationships and drama. You need someone who’d there for you, and if they’re not, they need to just not be in your way, wasting your time. On the real, they’re also wasting your money. That energy needs to be spent thinking of new things to write about, build, and create, not whether or not he cares. When you have to wonder, you’ve got your answer. Get over it, and get back to doing something that is going to matter to humanity.
This week, I bought a few new domains. In one case, I probably did a good deed because domain extortionists would probably have bought it and screwed the company that actually owns the idea out of some money.
In the early days of the internet, people bought domains because they had a message they wanted to send. Now, way too many are just sitting on domains that they don’t use, and have no real intention to. They figure they’ll buy them up, sell them, and make a lot of money.
Someone should tell them that this bubble has burst since long. Now, if you’re sitting on a domain that violates someone’s copyright, and you’re not promoting them sufficiently, they’ll just sue you. If you are promoting them, then it’s all good and they’ll usually let you keep it unless their lawyers are bored.
Once I saw that the Neo Kobe pizza trend was making a comeback, I decided out of curiosity, to check to see if the domain was available. To my surprise, it was, so I felt the need to buy it. If Konami wants it, they can have it. For the meantime though, I’m glad I kept one more good domain from getting jacked by some jerk who wouldn’t use it to its potential, and would keep it from the company that technically owns the idea.
Speaking of which, I hope that Konami makes a deal with someone to produce frozen pizza that comes with soup. It would be cool to see a frozen pizza that comes with a bowl of ramen or miso soup attached to it, or maybe keep it all “just add hot water” and have a pizza cracker attached to a bowl of instant soup. That would probably fly off the shelves.
Anyway, I have a lot of work to do, and I hope it leads to more good things.
I think that maybe I’ve accidentally misled some people about myself. I am not losing weight to be more mainstream acceptable. I am not trying to get my “groove” back. It was never lost.
I’m losing weight and lifting weights to get my enforcer body back. To give you a glimpse into my hopeful future, I’d like to intoduce you to my thickspiration: Monica Martin.
Here’s a video of a moment with her on Miami Ink, a reality show about a group of tattoo artists:
Just so we’re clear, it is not my goal to look exactly like her. I think her bodyfat percentage is probably hovering around only 12-14% and I’m too old to be trying to do that safely. I do however, respect her because she has the “Amazon trifecta” of strength, size, and agility. These are things I consider important in a sexy human, and am working on mastering for myself.
So enjoy the show, and please everybody don’t mistake me for someone in pursuit of Barbiedom or the attention of couch potato mass appeal again.
Yesterday was Shai and my 12th anniversary. We went to the Bear Pub, and ate and drank well. The Bear is one of maybe only four places in the Carmel center where you can do both of those.
We did some reminiscing, and some talking. I’m sorry to say though, that I haven’t successfully convinced him to get his issues seen to.
The last time I was in a similar position, I was 25 years old. This time I’m almost 40. What makes it harder is that I’m not in any particular physical danger except maybe from myself. If I’m honest, that has to be the biggest problem at the moment. He’s just doing what is his nature to do. He’s a fetishist, and better yet, and older fetishist. From his point of view, he’s just matured to a level where he doesn’t feel he has to do things he doesn’t really like doing, especially when they involve risks that he is firmly against taking. He doesn’t like sexual intercourse, and is against taking the risk of possibly breeding.
So basically, there is no, or rather extremely limited room in his sexuality for someone like me. There’s room in his dungeon, but not in his pants.
I am so fucked.
I’m almost 40, and will never get love and sex from the same person ever again. Admitting that to myself almost makes me want to cry. What stops the tears is the realization that this is actually freedom. Now that I’ve accepted that fact, I no longer need to try to get both from the same person.
Personally, I don’t see a point in having sex with someone I don’t love, and who doesn’t love me. It feels necrophillic, and I can’t suspend disbelief enough during the actual sex act to convince myself that it feels good. Physically and mechanically, I’m there, but I would be lying if I said that sex with anyone except Cuz for the past 5 years has been even remotely truly satisfying. If I could make myself turn off my emotions up until the sex itself, all illusions were brutally crushed by the time any penetration happened.
Granted, this means that any of my former bitches who reads this will understand that I lied to them, but well, that would just make us even, now wouldn’t it? I never claimed moral superiority to them, just greater survival energy. I suppose now they’ll understand why none of them could really break me. I pretended to go along with their lies to me and to themselves for the same reason I don’t argue with my parents about religion. If they want to believe in Santa Claus, I’m happy to take the bite from the cookie, sip the milk, hide the presents until Christmas morning, and act as surprised and thrilled as they are.
So what’s next?
Well, anyone who’s read the Kama Sutra knows the answer. I gotta be real, and I gotta be me. Now that I understand what my life is going to be like, I’m not going to rail against reality. I’m going with the flow. At this point, I’ll view sex as something like an occasional antidepressant. For the next 10-15 years, once a year, I’ll seduce some dude who will at least appreciate it once. This will tide me over until I myself become physically uninterested in sex, and maybe beyond so long as the psychological urge is still there. It’s basically how I was for a year before I met my first husband, and that felt right.
At 21, I already understood that I lived in a screwed up world, and my chances of finding a guy who is an independent thinker was low, one who was attracted to me even lower, and one who wasn’t broken and would stick with me low like winning the lottery. My experiences between then and now kind of confused me into thinking maybe there might be some small chance. Now I understand that it’s just not going to happen for me, though I do encourage younger wolves to keep hunting because you never know.
For me personally though, the search is over. I am grateful for what I have. I have someone who is a good companion for me, and who I can talk to beyond the age my hormones stop nagging me. Truthfully, that’s what a marriage is supposed to be if you strip away the superficial and sexual issues: a bond with a person for life, not for sex. I’m wired so that I don’t really need sex for strong bonding. Once someone’s in my pack, that’s it. If I don’t see them for 20 years, I still have the same take-a-bullet love.
Beyond me and Shai, I have some great friends. I have enough love in my life. So sex is something more physically driven, and really kind of an annoying urge that I wish would go away, but it doesn’t. I have to keep it in perspective.
…and that’s that. I thank biomechanics and whatever Creator entity there may be for the lesson, and look forward to the next adventure.
Nothing like severe natural disaster to put things in perspective. I don’t mean in just the sense of making one’s own problems seem small, but in being reminded of the ways the current system contributes to the scale of disasters. If there was ever a good reason to chip in to the causes of alleviating needless poverty and increasing accountability in business and government, Haiti is it.
This is just one of the few times that some government officials have had to eat a little of the shite they helped to pile on the heads of the poor. It’s a shame that the poor had to suffer too, as well as some who were helping them, but at least this time there was some Matthew 5:45 effect in that the rain did indeed fall on the just and the unjust this time.
Having lain in a pool of my own blood at one time, and been close to that at others, I know what it’s like to be okay with the end. Having never sought to harm anyone without due cause at such a moment is, despite the circumstances, a pretty nice feeling. It makes the pain seem more like a passage. If it’s the end then so be it, but you keep breathing…focus your energy on drawing on breath at a time, because you’ve still got good stuff to do. I’d really hate to come to that moment as a parasite on the arse of the world. I wonder if they’d even learn anything from such an experience.
So far, it’s just a straight up nightmare there. According to the Telegraph, the death toll could reach 200,000. Streets are piled with bodies, and people are rioting because of the slow delivery of food, water, health care, and rescue. Part of the problem is that there isn’t even enough space or security at the airport. Since long, the situations at the sea ports has been bad. Food was rotting on the ships because of corruption. It was like they were keeping the poor starving on purpose. Artificial inflation kept food prices rising for no good reason.
…and now this. I hope it causes a revolution. Until then though, I hope it puts a big magnifying glass up for the world to get a good look at what happens when you keep people down for so long, and then something happens that even the government can’t anticipate or insulate themselves from, and the rich can’t buy their way out of.
None of us is immune from Nature. You can beat the system, and beat a slave, but you can’t beat the Earth.
I don’t know…I hope people learn from this. I’m not holding my breath though. If people with money understood the basic principles of life, they wouldn’t be so exploitive, and probably wouldn’t have as much money. Maybe that’s just one of those “nature of the beast” things. I suppose all those who don’t have so much money can do against their greed in the meantime is find ways around it. Whoever can, should be prepared for the parasite based infrastructure to collapse in the event of a major disaster or war. If it’s possible, this should be a community effort.
Don’t rely on a system that’s only built to exploit you. If you do, then when you need help, it probably won’t be there. Not pointing fingers, because this is just about every government on earth. Some though, are worse than others, and the Haitian government was well known for its screwed upness. I can’t help seeing this event as a kind of an illustration of what can happen elsewhere.
I didn’t want to say much about it until things were stable, but I have some incredible news. Shai and I are now a couple again…a kinky one, but a couple. I have to get back on the pill for awhile because of it, but it’s a small price to pay. I only have a few years of fertility left anyway, and well, if I have a heart attack at 45, it’s okay because I’ll die happy.
Since I’ve been on the natural, nutrient dense diet, many things have changed. I’ve returned to my old self, I’m losing weight slowly but surely, and my attitude is solidifying into a consistent Big Mama-ness in accordance with my age.
So when the time came that I could deal with things I’d put on the backburner, I basically gave Shai a report of the things I learned “out there” in Israel. When we were deciding what to do about our relationship going platonic, I got some bad advice from him: find someone younger. I don’t think he understood his own uniqueness, or what was wrong with him or with me at the time.
Five years down the road, we understand now that he did go through a change, and it is normal, but that it didn’t mean what we thought it did. He’s had some time to think and figure himself out, so when I spoke to him about what I was going through, he told me what he was going through. Some of the factors that came into play then aren’t there now, so the main problem has been solved. Now we just have to iron out the details, like sleeping arrangements.
He lets the cats in his bed. I can’t have cats in the bed. So if I move back into his room, we have to keep the cats out of there. Each of our stuff has also spread out a bit, so even if I do sleep in his room, I’m keeping my room as an office and backup for when his subs visit.
I’m not rushing into things. I know how I am, and that it’s never easy for me to do any kind of back tracking. However, this is a special case since we’re not talking about someone who doesn’t love me or took me for granted. He’s just a formerly tired, retired cop who took awhile to get his life back. Apparently, the Bibi budget took a lot more out of him than he realized. Because things did get worse, he realizes now that he escaped just in time.
We still have some work to do about getting us back in sync, but now he’s much more open to what it’ll take on his end. Part of that came with realizing the toll experiences with other people can take on one’s sexual development. In order to have relationships, we often have to rearrange our priorities in ways that are, for us, a bit twisted. We have to learn to separate sex from love even though sex is an expression of love. We have to learn to not express love towards people who don’t or can’t reciprocate because those people don’t love, just find people useful and attach for practical reasons. We have to wear masks and chop our behavioral profile into little pieces, but since we can’t do the same internally, it eats at us. It’s like walking around with one hand tied behind your back. You get used to it, and that hand atrophies.
Our sexual relationship short circuited mainly because we were both fragmented. Now we’re in the process of defragmentation.
