Aug 26 2010

Talisman

Category: Days and Nights,GratitudeIronWynch @ 8:56 am

Well, last night was interesting.  They were supposed to have a “Black music” (rap, hip-hop, r&b) night at the Levinsky, and I promised UV (one of Jacuzzi’s ex boyfriends who manages pubs and such) that I’d be there.  So after the nightly walk with Hypatia, I went to the Brown to hang out until the event began.

Wednesday night is safe because Warren usually only goes on Thursdays and/or Fridays to hang out with his friend.  He has a friend there, a very hot older man who is probably who I should have been flirting with, but it wouldn’t have gotten either of us very far.  At some point, if we started having sex, I’d break him.  Even when I was smaller, I was still a very strong girl, and unless a guy has good, sturdy hips and legs, it’s going to suck for him or for me. 

I’ve already learned the hard way about love not being enough to overcome sexual incompatibility from the side of the one who was grown out of.  Though Shai and I were able to get past it, I wouldn’t want to put someone else through it.  It can make someone feel inadequate even though nothing is wrong with them.  They just don’t fit between my legs.  So it’s better that he understands that my interest in him is platonic.  He doesn’t need to know why.  Now, he can assume that it’s because of Warren.

So I’m sitting in our usual spot, in the back corner of the bar, near the kitchen doorway, and having a nice time.  The barmen informed me that Warren hasn’t retrieved his gift, but it’s cool because as I said, if he doesn’t take it, Skin will.  The other night, he made a kind of a joke that since Warren has dropped the ball, I’m his girlfriend now.  I was like, “What number am I in the harem?”

Last night, it seemed like less of a joke.  He’s introducing me to people as his girlfriend.  I realized that I was being gamed when these people included a parade of a variety of women, some of whom seemed like relatives, but not all of them.  He also made sure to tell every guy at the bar that I’m his girlfriend.

It could be a protective gesture, so I’m not taking it to mean anything more than platonic yet.  It seems like “cavalier game” where an unavailable guy behaves flirtatious as a positive ego booster, even if he’s not interested in anything deeper.  Barmen like me for some reason.  Maybe it’s because I’m a happy drinker, even when I’m telling them I just got dumped.

He is probably trying to cheer me up by letting me know I’m cool.  I do appreciate it.  I’m pretty sure I’m not his type, at least not yet, but it’s nice to be encouraged not to become bitter.  So I’m making him a belated birthday present: a love talisman that is supposed to attract the ladies.  It’s a dark purple star sapphire pendant on a necklace with silver, red, and black beads.  I think he’ll like it.

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Jul 17 2010

The Abyss Stares Back: Who’s the Bitch?

Category: Days and Nights,Gratitude,Pinglaling,SpiritIronWynch @ 9:37 am

As some of you already know, after the whole Vegeta (formerly Feng Shui) thing a couple of years ago, I was angry, confused, and looking for answers.  So, curious about what really goes on in the minds of men, I wandered into a PUA/relationship advice for men blog ,Roissy in DC, now called Citizen Renegade.  I call it “The Abyss”, because the posts and comments tend to be a swirling mass of negativity and pain, but it is a useful mass of swirling negativity and pain.  It’s like a black hole in the universe of love and sexuality, but less grating than the female gripe sites.  The spirit there is more proactive, and though it attracts its share of whiners, the guys who hang there are mostly legit do-ers.

I find The Obsidian Files to be more proactive and more realistic, so if I was going to tell a guy where to go for support, I’d recommend Obsidian.  He’s blunt, but not as rigid, and can relate to a guy who’s struggling.  He has a lot of life experience, and has seen things a guy with testicles should probably have seen by a certain age, and tends to pursue a less feminist, more nurturing class of women.  Roissy is still working out whatever issues he has with flaming harpies.  In my opinion, pursuit of “lawyerbitches” and the like is self inflicted misery which leads one to severe selection bias.  Hopefully, his current girlfriend is helping to smooth out those rough edges.  Girl must be a saint.

At Citizen Renegade though, I get a perspective that I wouldn’t normally get to see from the inside.  People who like you and have an interest in seeing you happy aren’t usually going to tell you the darker bits of the truth.  For that, you’ve got to steel yourself, and talk to people who hate you.

Haters may be just as irrational as people who love you, but somewhere in the middle is the balance; the truth.  In the past couple of years, I’ve been called every name in the book, but I’ve learned A LOT about men.  I already had a reasonable hold of reality, thanks to my Dad, but my Dad loves me.  Everything he says to me is designed to help me, and barring a few issues, he doesn’t sugarcoat, but he doesn’t want to undermine my confidence.  So it’s tempered somewhat.  It’s not dishonest because he really does think I’m beautiful and special.  Problem is, random guys I encounter may not think I’m beautiful or special, but may still want to get under my skirt.  It’s those guys whose motivation I needed to figure out in order to protect myself.

So, what I needed was an honest assessment of my “worth” in the general sexual market.  Roissy’s Dating Market Value Test for Women is a very good one.  I scored -4, by the way.  To let you know how much of a hit one takes for being fat and older, I retook the test with my features at 20, and scored 32.  So I’m positive that there’s no bias against smart or decent women who are even barely reasonably feminine.  I wouldn’t know how to rate the test for men.

Once I understood how others generally perceive me, I had to figure out under what contexts someone would find me woodworthy, and why someone who did might mishandle me.  The reasons for woodworthiness I gathered ranged from utter desperation for anything with a vagina, to being really drunk and enjoying my personality well enough to commit humanitarian fornication, to being patently rural and having a thing for giant boobs FTW, to fat fetishism.  For the rare sort of guy I tend to go for, it’s lack of concern for basic looks and more concern for grooming and hygiene, or I look like them/their mom/their favorite aunt/their first love, or someone very important whose face is burned in their memory; social relevance.

What confounded me until yesterday though, is why someone would mishandle me.  I’d assigned that to the wolf chewing off his arm to escape a trap because they think I’m ugly or worthless due to my low general market value.

Confident in my having found the Holy Grail for Fat Chicks, I added Roissyisms to my arsenal of ego destroying missiles to fire back in psychic warfare with former “bitches” daring to attempt to con me back into a largely one sided relationship.  Among them were, “You’re only calling me because you’re desperate, and you think I’m stupid,” and my favorite, “I’ve never been desperate/hated myself enough to shag someone I thought was hideous.  What’s that like?”

From the responses, it appeared that I was winning their respect and admiration.

Then, as of last night, my Holy Grail shattered when a young lady known as Anoukange said something that slammed the fact into my fat, arrogant face, that I already had it.  When you read this, have a look at Anoukange’s site and photos.  She’s not a teenager, but most guys think she’s fairly hot.  So they’d have no particular reason to go flying out the door immediately, right?

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Cuddling after you’ve just started to sleep together is weird, and I don’t have a cold bone in my body. I just give the guy my bed and take the couch. You can always balance the cuddle instinct by “giving it to her” caveman style and then trying to cuddle after. ….talk about sending the hamster wheel into a tailspin.

Wha???

It did not compute.

As a woman of 40, who has only had a total of 12 years on the “dating market” since 16, half of those as a spiritually but platonically married lady, I have not had vast sexual experience.  I had fun in high school…a few freaky incidents under my belt, but that’s a feministically raised youth thing.  Once I came into my own at about 17, I understood that casual sex felt like necrophilia for me, so after that it was fiances and the friend zone.  My “casual” sex was more like promoting guys who were in what would be most girls’ friend zone, and even then I’d be frustrated if it didn’t develop further.

Though I wouldn’t recommend this policy as a general practice, for a few women, benevolent sluttery is a nice way to avoid the general market “cock carousel” and let the good guys know that there are a few women in the world who really do love decent men more than platonically.  Just understand that it’s a thankless “job”.  Most guys watch too much television, and think sex with young, hot chicks is normally available to normal guys, and that they were just having a “dry spell”.  Hell, some of them even think it’s normal for a hot girl to be low maintenance, and don’t understand that a low maintenance hot girl is a natural beauty with stunning genes, which is rare.  It takes them awhile of being out there trying to find another you, before they realize that you’re one in a million.

Story of my life until Shai.

Anyway, due to my apparently rather limited experience, I was convinced that it was highly abnormal and pathological for a guy to just get up and leave after sex.  “Casual sex” meant sex with someone you’re not in an explicit relationship with, but in execution, the incident would go something like make out, do the thing, make out and maybe cuddle a bit, bathroom if needed, do it again, into the night, fall asleep exhausted, and the awkward coffee or breakfast.  No rushing happened unless sometime during the sex or the sleeping, someone’s mom called thinking their son had disappeared, there was a bad car pileup or something blew up, and he had to go pick up or sew up bodies, or time had really run out.

The coyote chewing off arm thing happened after months or years, and figuratively, not right after.  That’s just…crazy.  Why would a woman stand for that?

I even had escape strategies for myself to avoid sleeping next to guys I wasn’t in an explicitly defined relationship with.  When I would fall asleep, which happened maybe only twice, it was brief and not restful at all.  If I didn’t get out of bed in time, I’d be stuck under an arm or a leg, or downright in the clutches, lying there awake.  One time I even pretended that there was a Voodoo ritual I had to do after sex.

No really.  I’d get up and light a red candle and dance a little.

So after the ensuing conversation, when my illusion of relatively clean karma was crashing around my brain, and I was starting to feel like a complete moron, I grabbed for any reassurance I could get.  I asked Shai if it was normal for guys to leave after the sex.  He’s like, “Why would a guy stay after the sex?”

So I’m sitting there, mouth agape, freaking out.

Humble pie in my face.

Some vodka, pickles, a series of drunk SMS’s asking for forgiveness, and a deathlike sleep later, I’m okay…humbled, but okay.

I have realized though, that I was indeed a ball cutting, witch of a bitch.

So, I will no longer have the pompous pleasure of referring to any of the sweet men of my past to whom I have grossly misattributed malice, when fear and exasperation were most likely the running sentiment, as “bitches”.  They are ex boyfriends.  They’re ex boyfriends I probably should have demanded more of as far as manning up and planting their flag or getting lost, but boyfriends is what they behaved like, so that’s what they were.

I understand now that the bitch was me.


May 15 2010

Dealing With Haters

Category: Gratitude,Social Issues,poetryIronWynch @ 4:21 pm

I love my haters.  They’re my best press and the evidence that I’m doing something right.  Their attempts to “put me in my place” are welcome challenges that ultimately end up confirming the legitimacy of my position.

What’s funny about that is that I’m not particularly rich or famous.  I’m just me, and don’t apologize for that.  Yet for some reason, the self designated sheepdogs of the herd sniff me out for saying the simplest things like it not being a good idea to abuse people for not being close enough to whatever the herd deems perfect.  That’s like blasphemy against their Santa god, and they attack with religious fervor.

Like severed hands on the belt of Kali, I tend to wear their sorry excuses for insults like jewelry.  They are the sacrifices of dignity voluntarily amputated and lain at my feet.  Their songs over the years are as stylized as hymns.

There’s one of my old favorites: You Are So Ugly

You are so ugly
Why can’t you see?
You are so much more
Ugly than me.

This makes you worthless
Worth less than me.
You are so ugly
Ugly to me.

You must be sorry
Apologize
For being unpleasant
To my tender eyes.

If you do not
Well then you’re a bitch.
You should be hanged
Or burned like a witch.

I demand you agree
With my view of your worth.
Most people do
All over the earth.

We all think you’re ugly.
Why don’t you submit?
Why don’t you enjoy
The taste of our shit?

We do so love shitting
One hole just won’t do.
We open our mouths
And can’t help but poo

That you are so ugly
And worthless to us.
We sorely resent
Your making a fuss.

Not only must you
Account for your actions
But you’re required
To bear our contractions.

We can be human
But if we are honest
What we require is
That you be a goddess.

You Angel of Ugly
Must suffer our sins.
While we reject you
You must want us in.

While we abuse you
You should smile and dance.
While we just use you
You should want romance.

When you do not give us
All that we pray
And show the same boatman
You one night will pay

We’ll punish you for
Defending your life.
Oh shit! It’s a gun.
We’ve just got a knife.

I really don’t see how people figure they should be able to spew all manner of crap at people, and those people aren’t supposed to hand it back to them.  Well, yes I do.  That’s what most people do: suck it up while the more aggressive, just as mortal as they are, verbally defecate on them.

It’s funny how that works.  I learn a lot about humans from watching cats.  I have a female calico who is not the biggest, but is the loudest.  Whenever I’m distributing snacks, she always feels she has to be first.  What’s even weirder is that when I put a little in one bowl, and move to the next, rather than finishing what was in the previous bowl, she jumps to the next bowl.  Every bowl I fill she has to beat all the others to.

Her little plan always gets foiled when a bigger female swats her in the face.  Then she moves away but is still complaining and trying to make all the others miserable because she didn’t get what she wanted for being merely aggressive and not actually better.

Something to think about.

I’m just a cat who wants to get to her bowl without some little wannabe standing in my way, growling at me because they think they’re entitled to what they didn’t earn: my respect and good will.  Too many people think that the way to earn people’s respect is by being a dick because there are too many pussies.

I understand that’s not going to change, but it would be nice.

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Apr 06 2010

Not Gon’ Be Able to Do It

Category: Days and Nights,Gratitude,Social IssuesIronWynch @ 6:17 pm

Okay, I tried to break my no backtracking policy, but I can’t.  It’s not so much about the policy as it is the why.  Hannibal isn’t reaching the minimum bar for what I require in a bitch, much less a secondary partner, so it’s all just moot.  He’s one of those guys I’ll admire from a safe distance because he apparently doesn’t value me enough.

From what I’ve learned from Obsidian, Roissy, and others, there’s not even really any point in talking it over.  He knows me well enough that his failure and the consequences are understood.  The last time, I made the mistake of trying to save something that didn’t need to be saved, and got accused of obsession.  I don’t want to have that argument again.  I want to be able to have a beer with the guy, and talk like friends, and perhaps he’ll introduce me to someone more suitable.

The rest of my current prospects are younger than me, and have been, since my awakening, scooted into the, “No way,” pile.  I’m friendly to them, and flattered that they’d like to get into my pants, but it’s not going to happen.  I’m not built for the cougar thing.

I kind of wish I was.  I wish I could just suspend disbelief long enough for something like that to be fun and not a headache.  I wish I enjoyed teaching grown men how to piss standing up, but I don’t.  I can’t convince myself that someone who isn’t old enough to understand that a gorgeous, young woman could leave them and take half someday, or become more addicted to whatever drug she’s taking to stay an unnatural size 4 and lock their kids in a basement for months, can value someone like me.  A guy has to know something about real life to appreciate a real woman who doesn’t look like she stepped out of a magazine.

I understand that to a guy under 40, I’m just the person on the sidelines holding out a cup of water on their marathon journey towards the illusive unicorn…the hot chick with a heart of gold.  I don’t have the heart to tell them that for at least half of them, that journey will end in divorce, and that for most of them, it’ll happen because she (perhaps rightfully) thinks she can do “better” than him.  For most of the other half, the journey ends with a woman who looks like me or worse, but with none of the coping skills, and a much higher sense of unjustified entitlement.  Whatever was shitty about their personality oozes to the surface when they’re 30 or so.

I was thinking about how perfect nature is.  I feel very fortunate to have had one child.  Western culture is imploding on its own masturbatory fantasy.  In such a time, I could easily not have had any children at all.  Women like me are dinosaurs, and the birth rates for cultured, intelligent people in Europe and the U.S. tell the sad tale.  We’re not replacing ourselves because through the media and legal breakdown of the meaning of family, we’ve made the serious and the strong unfashionable.  The herd is being led off a cliff, and we’re going to either be destroyed or absorbed by cultures that aren’t really better, just more realistic and interested in breeding before they’re too old.

I think if I had been more fully aware of this when I was younger, I’d have started a cult a la Dune.  Actually, there’s still time.  We could call ourselves the Zenietzsche Mormoslims or something, and make it a rule that everyone has to eat a natural diet and bring as many spirit babies to earth as possible.

Nah, I’m not a cult builder type, and besides, someone has probably already done it.  It’s fun to think about, but in the end, the cold facts at ground level add up to this generation deserving what it gets for its stupidity.  My time is just about over, and whatever “suffering” I’m doing for being underappreciated when I was young and even more fertile, the people who missed out will do more.  I have one who, if she survives long enough, will do good things for humanity and her world.  What others I didn’t have won’t get to do whatever good they could have done…and they won’t be in the number of people who believe in raising their own children or eating like humans instead of drones, or growing up on time instead of by some artificially imposed schedule.

The few others I know who have some sense, and have managed to make children who have some sense, should count themselves fortunate as well.  Fate could easily have twisted a different direction.  Whatever problems you’ve had along the way, there will be some folks with some sense in the next generation.  While you’re here, remind them not to let the crush of stupidity around them break them.  Remind them that you love them, and that love is part of what makes us human, and that they should follow their own hearts and their own instincts, not the trends and not the television.

Hopefully things will work out, but the truth is that cultures and nations rise and fall all the time.  Perhaps western culture is doomed because it abides too much ideal and not enough practice.  So we adopt principles that seem like a good idea, but ultimately destroy us because they are unicorns and rainbows and not horses and refraction.  So we will adapt and survive, or we will fall.  Not much ever changes for the independent thinkers.  We’re different no matter what or where…but for certain, it’s easier to be independent in a western culture than it is in others.  So if it’s falling, I’ll be sad to see it go.

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Mar 21 2010

Hannibal Rising

Category: Days and Nights,GratitudeIronWynch @ 4:27 pm

Okay, it’s not another day, but here’s the story.

Slick has earned it.  Some things have happened that have made him stronger, and he’s handling things like he should have years ago.  Even back then, he earned his stripes by not treating me like a dirty secret.  He accused me of being obsessed for wanting to hear from him more than once a week though, and that was the last he heard from me for four years.

See, that was before I looked into the dark side and realized where I went wrong.  This time around, he’s older and wiser, but I’m not taking any chances.  I was too soft back then, and too open about my feelings.  I must have given him the impression that I was desperate and couldn’t walk away.

I can be like that with someone I really care about.  I am so enthralled with them when we’re together that they could think they were the only man in the world to me.  I’m not trying to be deceptive, and that’s really not a thing to be deceptive about.  I think it’s just a matter of experience.  If every woman they were ever with, wanted something from them other than love and respect, a woman being truly interested in them could be strange.  So they’re thinking, “Yeah, I got this,” and feel free to mess up.  Then the find out that I have limits after they’ve lost me.

I don’t really know if he views me as less than he deserves, but he’s at least polite enough not to say so or seem so.  So we’ll see.  He’s navigating the pit of broken glass one has to walk over with bare feet to get back into my good graces deftly enough.

He is only three years older than me though.  He’s one of those older guys who laughs in the face of gravity, and lifts heavy objects, perhaps out of spite.  So as soon as I’ve boosted his -heh- confidence enough, he may well feel that he’s too good for me, and fly away or screw up again.  I don’t know.  Once someone has failed me once, it is difficult for me to believe they won’t do it again.

…but for now, he does seem to care…and has a cute ass, a phenomenal brain, and strong legs.  He’ll do.

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Mar 21 2010

Progress March 2010

Category: Days and Nights,Enforcer Quest,GratitudeIronWynch @ 12:10 pm

It’s cool today, and I’m not getting half naked, so I wore somewhat tight clothing.  I don’t dress like this normally, just so y’all know.  It’s just for the purpose of letting you see how my body is evolving.  Where in years past, I dressed to compliment my figure, I feel that now it’s time to let it all hang out.  No sashes, scarves, or sucking in my gutt.  We’re getting real.  If your eyes are bleeding, you can thank Hannibal for encouraging me to show off…but that’s another story for another day.

I’m now at the phase where just about everything, including my boobs and butt, are smaller.  So I still look rolly polly, just a few kilos less blobby…not that blobby is morally wrong or anything.  It’s just not me.

Also, please excuse my facial expressions, as the sun was in my eyes.

Frontal

Three Quarters

Profile

Well, enjoy it, laugh, be disgusted, whatever.  At this point, I feel better than I have in 20 years.  This will probably be my last Truly fat year though.  My knee is almost better, and the gap between my ability and my energy level is closing.

Here’s is today’s 3/4 view compared to the two years past.  It’s hard to gauge the size, but the changes in shape are pretty obvious.

2008-2010

More photos of me will be posted next year as usual.  Well, maybe sooner.

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Mar 12 2010

The Amazing Exploding Fatass

Category: Days and Nights,Enforcer Quest,GratitudeIronWynch @ 1:10 am

Well, how ever weird this month has been, it must have done something good. Yesterday morning, my workout exploded.  It’s like I can’t stop moving.  There was the workout, work, posting a bit, working some more, then working out some more.  I feel like myself again.  Hopefully soon I’ll look like myself again too.  It’s a lot closer and more real to me now.  I’ve reached the point where my weight itself is no longer getting in my way when I want to jump, run, or get low.

My knee still bothers me a bit, so I’m careful of it.  Other than that though I’m cool.  When I can get him to, I’m going to have Shai take the yearly progress photos.  This may well be my last year of being technically fat, so enjoy it while it lasts.

Thankfully, Vegeta hasn’t reared up his over gelled head to remind me anymore how worthless I am to him.  During the conversation, I got really darkside Nietzchean.  “Now I see what our real problem is.  There are two kinds of people in this world…”  I called him a sheep and said he needs to go back and play in the pasture.

Normally, I wouldn’t actually use that as a direct insult to someone.  There’s nothing wrong with being normal.  That’s a special honor I bestow to the ones who come up in my territory bleating, and expect not to get bitten.  Common folk need to stick to common folk, and go through the normal channels to get their freak on.  The city of Haifa has many fine prostitutes.  It’s legal here.

…and before you think something like, “but prostitutes are fake,” well, so are guys who care too much about a woman’s social status.  Fake sex is fake sex.  Weak drones milling around mindlessly with no individuality need to stay in their place.  When they go out looking for someone special and unique, both their time gets wasted.

I have no mercy left.  He used it all up.  It’s okay, because that was actually the last thing that needed to go.  After him, I had the clarity of mind to get on a natural diet and the courage to go explore the dark side of the male psyche.

After him, I looked for the real answer, and had an open enough mind to accept what I learned.

I learned that people like him instinctively hate people like me, and yet they need us.  We are their anthropos…the free people.

Gender and gender role is important as far as how that mixed hatred and lust will be expressed, but in the end, they want us dead.  By “they” I mean sheeple who know or sense that we exist, and want to be us, but don’t have the balls.  They are the cursed ones with the appetites of wolves but the teeth of sheep.

When I was wounded, I let him get close enough to me to hurt me.  I let him lick my wounds with his grass stained tongue, thinking that if he could swallow some of me, he could be like me.  The prey and predator were reversed, and this is against nature…but I was bleeding, and didn’t care enough about myself to fight this abomination.

Kahuna told me after reading the conversation, “Wow, you really hated yourself back then.”  I nodded.

     “I did.  I must have.”   We sat silently for a moment, and then got back to our usual talk about life and stuff.  I’m glad he was there.  Up until then, he’d only heard my side of events, and probably thought I was being overly dramatic and mean just because I got rejected.  Now, he got to see just how stupid the guy really is, and how dumb I was to go there more than once.

I tell you, women need men.  Women need dads, brothers, friends, someone all up in their business.  We need to not give anyone a chance until they have passed the gauntlet of men by whom our standards are set.  My dad’s overly religious, but I have male friends who, were they aware that I desperately needed their assistance, would never have allowed this to happen.  They would at least have shielded me emotionally to minimize the impact.

That’s what happened to Fender.  Kahuna told me from day one that he is at least respectful but probably wouldn’t stick around.  He has too many issues.  Shai told me the same.  So with him it was catch and release, no hard feelings.  When he stopped calling, I just shrugged and moved on.

Now Shai, Kahuna, Longstroke, Gadget, and I are having a good laugh, and they’re glad I’m feeling better.  They’re also all very glad that they’re free to do what men do, and look out for their “sister”.

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Mar 10 2010

Cuckoo For My Cocoa Puffs

Category: Days and Nights,GratitudeIronWynch @ 12:58 am

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.

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Mar 09 2010

My Crazy Friends: The Dancing Terrorist

Category: Days and Nights,Gratitude,Pinglaling,RandomIronWynch @ 9:34 pm

Kahuna and Gadget acting crazy:

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Feb 25 2010

Year 12: Well, I Tried

Category: Days and Nights,GratitudeIronWynch @ 4:17 pm

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.

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