What I’ve Learned from Having Cancer: No One has Time for a Mortal Girl

I am a fucking tank. I can handle anything. Any who reads this blog or knows me knows I have been through a lot. To be entirely honest. What I am going through now has nothing on the things I have had to deal with. I am a strong woman. I try to keep my problems to myself.

The hardest thing about the past two years, whether or not it is really over, is that people don’t really see that anymore. When I did tell the few people I told before my surgery and the ones who know now, what had happened, they, mostly all of them, took a huge step back from me. I think part of that is because I never ask for emotional support and just by virtue of being sick, people thought I was seeking it out.alone

I don’t ask for help. For the bulk of my life no help was available and when it was I just didn’t know how to ask. I always found a way to fix everything or work through it. It doesn’t mean I don’t need or want support, it just means I have learned that people are seldom able to truly support anyone in this type of situation. Some (the people you live with and your children or partner) have to. I actually feel horrible for people in this position and would do anything to unburden them, short of lying.

That in no way means that I don’t wish that people had been there with me. I definitely did and still do need that but I have resigned myself to the fact that no help is coming. This like everything else in life is my fight and my battle to win or lose, emotionally and physically. It affects me, and how I have carried myself through it defines who I am more than what is happening to me. How I deal with a problem is what matters and I think I have dealt with it pretty well.

That doesn’t mean I don’t feel raw and exposed about it all. I don’t think I have ever felt so alone in something. When someone does bring it up it always feels forced or patronizing and I fucking hate that. No one really wants to talk about it. That is an awful conversation to have. I know no one wants to talk about it so why bring it up? If it is uncomfortable for you imagine how horrible it is for me to feel like someone is just checking my expiration date?

alone 2

I don’t mean to imply that I think no one cares. I know people care. People also have their own lives and worries and don’t want to think about my shit or what I am going through. I also don’t readily provide updates or tell people how I feel.

This bottling up of my emotions has left me very sensitive, more sensitive than even I am comfortable with so I will project those feelings, the loneliness, the sense of abandonment into places they don’t belong. I fucking cry more now and I am not a crier. If I am crying I am normally pissed not hurt. When I am hurt I work that shit out in private. But I cry about a lot of stupid things now. I just want the world to give me a hug that isn’t coming. I teach that lesson; we take care of ourselves. We need to be able to do that.

When people admire your strength and the fact that you never ever put that off on anyone you get labeled as strong. You are strong for not making other people uncomfortable. You are strong for not talking about your feelings ad nauseam. But when something happens, something that threatens your life . . . no matter how strong you are and how much people admire that strength you aren’t the viewed the same.


Now I am not as strong. I am fucking mortal! Seeing me reminds people that even they are mortal. Talking about my mortality doesn’t happen because no one wants to think about that.

BUT I am still a fucking tank. I am a fucking tank because I have to be. Like I said at the beginning of this piece, I have been through worse but it would be nice to be able to talk about it. It won’t happen but it would be nice.

What I’ve Learned from Having Cancer: Waiting Sucks

I have . . . had . . .? Have cancer. I guess that is what I am supposed to say. I have been having this long strange battle with my body and abnormal cells for about a year and a half now. I could count how many people knew I had cancer before I had surgery to remove it from my cervix. My doctor was confident they got it all and I don’t go back to the doctor to be retested until March.

IMG_1220About six months after I moved to Southern Oregon I finally took time to do a little research and find a primary care provider. The first thing he did was do a pap smear and send me for my first mammogram. When the pap came back I was told I had cervical dysplasia and needed a biopsy. My mammogram came back and the doctor said he needed more pictures and an ultrasound.

Now before I go any further . . . None of this surprises me. Cancer, terminal fucking cancers, runs in my family. Both of my grandmothers, my father and my aunt died from it. My mother had cancer twice but she was in remission from both when she died. I was well aware that the odds were never in my favor genetically.

So I went back in to repeat my mammo and to have a cervical biopsy. My test results returned neither good nor necessarily bad. I was told they could develop into something or turn out to be nothing so we would just wait and see. Six months later I would have another pap and another mammogram.

pap-smear-300x202Six months later I received my reminder postcards in the mail and return to have the tests retaken. My mammogram took forever and resulted in me returning to the radiologist two extra times for additional ultrasounds all while being told jack shit about why. My pap smear came back abnormal again so I was referred out to a gynecological specialist for another biopsy and to review my mammogram.

She started with my biopsy and told me when it was finished that everything looked better than she thought. She said it seemed to be clearing up on its own as these things sometimes do and that she didn’t think I needed to worry. The mammo results were another story entirely. My mother had breast cancer and I have always kinda’ expected I would have it at some point. She told me I had what appeared to be cluster cysts but without a biopsy they couldn’t say definitively. I asked if we were doing a biopsy and she said we couldn’t because the cists weren’t palpable. If I can’t feel them by touching my breast and if she can’t feel them then they are too small to biopsy. So after over a year of tests and anxiety I was being told again, “We’ll have to wait and see.”

When I left her office I actually felt more at ease. Maybe all of this would really just take care of itself. Roughly two weeks later while I was at work one day in May, I saw that I had a message from the specialist on my phone. I stepped outside and called her back. She told me that the growth on my cervix was in fact cancer. I totally shut off. I heard surgery, meeting and cancer.

I went back into her office later in the week. She said I did need to have a portion of my cervix removed but she didn’t think I would need follow up treatment. We scheduled the surgery. I had fucking cancer, cancer no one in my family has had. Add a new one to the list.

I told only a handful of people. My roommate knew, my son, a few of my closest friends, my boss and coworkers, and my nieces. The news spread a little and a few more people knew that I had been going through test for more than a year and a half at that point but largely I didn’t want people to know because I am not big on pity and I didn’t want to feel sorry for myself.

People really don’t want your bullshit affecting them and I get that. I accepted it for what it was and moved forward accordingly. I had surgery in July and my follow up appointment in August. I got a few tattoos and a puppy along the way and now I am fucking waiting again. I believe my lack of patience is apparent in everything I write.

MeI hate waiting and I have to wait. In March, I will find out if my cancer is back, still there or still gone. In March I will have another mammogram and probably another ultrasound and eventually a biopsy. I hate waiting.

The truly awful thing about all of this is that I am now and always will be a very mortal girl. People change when they know you are in fact mortal when they realize you have an expiration date. That has probably been the worst thing about all of this but that is a post for another day. But it was time to let people know what was happening with me.

I have (had?) cancer and I just needed to say it. I am going to fight. I don’t know how not to. It is just who I am.


All The Men I’ve Ever … Before

I know, I know. I haven’t written a post in forever. I really do want to try and fix that because I miss ya’ll and I miss writing just to write and clear my head. I feel, for the first time in a long time, like my focused, narcissistic, determined self. I read something today that inspired me to write today.

I have a friend who keeps a book of all the women he’s ever had sex with. It is a point of reference rather than a brag book. I use to constantly tease him about wanting to read the book and he always said no. No kissin’ and tellin’. He just keeps a log and I don’t fault him for it at all. I think it is actually pretty smart. I don’t give a shit how many partners someone’s had because A) those with plenty of practice tend to be pretty fucking good at what they practice and B) people who live in glass houses.

So I have been thinking about my friend and that list a lot. I thought in honor of my forty first birthday I would compile my own list of sexual partners with a few details about the person and/or experience. Fortunately for you, my dear readers, I don’t have any qualms about kissing (or fucking) and telling. A little anonymity goes a long way and I figure with some cute little nicknames no one will be able to identify anyone other than themselves and all is good in my world. I am getting old and my memory won’t be sharp forever.* I need to preserve my history for posterity and so I just don’t forget.

Without further ado in no particular order…

Dr. Kinsey

I met Kinsey via online dating. He was a psychologist working for a local hospital. I was working as a freelance writer, mostly dating and sex stuff. We spoke online a few times and I told him about my blog and the nature of my writing. We talked about our partners and stranger sexual experiences. We didn’t really talk about sleeping with each other and although I knew he really wanted to. I loved our candid conversations about our experiences and he always marveled at my openness. He asked me questions about how my open approach to casual sex affected me and was curious about why I didn’t seem to get stuck or struggle emotionally with casual sex. I always felt like he was more interested in me from a professional prospective. We had sex one night after I had been out drinking with friends and invited him over to my place. We had both had a considerable amount of experience in that department. He was 29, nine years younger than me at the time. It was hands down the best sex I have ever had in my life. He dressed like a hipster and had very big dick. He had an amazing tattoo along his ribcage. We fucked like we had had sex a million times before. We never saw each other again. We made plans to get together again several ties but it just never happened.


Secret Agent Man

I met the spy online too. I had sex with him twice. He was one of two guys I have had sex with that could make me squirt intentionally. He was good with his hands and was the only man I ever slept with that wasn’t circumcised. He also had bullet hole scars on his back and chest. He said he was shot breaking up a fight in a park involving his brother. After the second time we slept together he told me he worked for the government and couldn’t talk about what he did. I never called him again.


The Psycho

Dated him a few times. He was way younger than me. He was an Iraq War vet. After we had sex, while he was still in my bed he told me he wanted to go back to Iraq so he could shoot people. I couldn’t get him out of my house quick enough.


The Soldier and my Neighbor

This was only threesome. It was GGB. One drunken night I hooked up with my man whore-neighbor and my roommate. We both stumbled onto our neighbor’s birthday celebration after a party. We gave him one hell of a birthday present. She’d had sex with him before. It was one of the longest continuous sex sessions I’d ever had. I also decided while I find women beautiful I am really not into having sex with them. I am still very close to her.  I ran into him in a restaurant a month later and had no idea who he was.


The Flip Flopper

He was a very hot (very hot and much younger) solider headed for his second tour in Iraq. He came over to meet my next door neighbor. They met via the internet. She asked me to come over to make sure he was cool and safe. He was more interested in me so he informed her he wanted to see my place. He had the biggest dick I’ve ever seen. He didn’t really know what to do with it either. He did however point out that when I came it seemed like I was going to squirt then he proved it to me several times.


My First

We met a party where I was wasted drunk and at seventeen years old decided to lose my virginity to a guy whose name I couldn’t remember the next morning. We wound up dating off and on most of my senior year. I let him treat me like shit until I found out I was pregnant. We broke up for good shortly before my high school graduation. I haven’t seen him since I was nineteen. I sent pictures of our son to him for a while but never got a response. My son has never met his father. He is currently serving an eight year sentence in prison.


The Thug

The second man I ever had sex with was a year behind me in school. He was friends with both my first and my best male friend in high school. He was really drunk when we had sex. I don’t remember much about the experience except that he seemed to have way more experience than my only other partner. He seemed kind of scary when we were younger. We hung out quite a bit in high school because we had mutual friends but we never really talked about when we had sex. We are still friends today and he has become one of my closest male friends. He’s listened to me cry after breakups and checks on me from time to time. He isn’t nearly as scary as I thought he was. He is actually one of the most thoughtful, caring friends I have.


The Punk

Although we dated for quite a while I was in my early twenties I remember the least about him. He had some severe emotional issues and wasn’t impressive in bed.


The Sweetheart

I meet this big teddy bear online too. He was also a vet of the Iraq War but had no desire to go kill people. We were very sexually compatible. He wasn’t well endowed but he was great with his tongue. He was the first guy I had anal sex with. When we stopped seeing each other it wasn’t traumatic or drama filled. He lived about two hours from me and when he met a girl who lived in his town I was happy for him. We don’t speak at all but I still have a very high opinion of him.


My First Fuck Buddy

We had mutual friends. If we were at the same “thing.” We’d typically wind up having sex. We were young so it was just meh. I have no idea what happened to him.


My Brother’s Friend

We hooked up one night because we were bored. A few nights later he asked if it could happen again. I said sure and half mention to my brother that I was hooking up with his friend. My brother asked him about it and he said we never had sex. I told him to fuck off and we never had sex… again.



In my twenties I was seeing a cook at a restaurant I worked at. He had been dating one of the waitresses at that same establishment for eight years. We had sex when he’d drive me home from work at the end of our shifts together. He was the first guy I ever gave head. I later found out he was or had tried fucking every female we worked with. I stopped sleeping with him after that. His girlfriend found out about me after we stopped sleeping together but she wanted to kill me just the same. I looked him up on Facebook once. They are still together. If I regret any of my partners it is him. I’ve been cheated on so many times and it never feels good. Being the other woman feels pretty shitty too.



Last year I had a one night stand in a shitty little farming town, with my friend’s 25 year old nephew. He was amazingly hot. His aunt always said he looked like and Abercrombie and Fitch model. When we met I knew we’d have sex. Later that night he said the same thing to me. We had marathon sex. It started in his garage and ended in his bed several hours later. He had stamina for days and never lost his erection after he came. He wasn’t great but he wasn’t bad.


The Guy with the Smile

We met at a bar and what was supposed to be ONS wound up being a yearlong relationship. He introduced me to BDSM. The few times he made me squirt he asked if I peed on him. He was an awful kisser. I threw up on his crotch once during a blowjob. He gagged me and it just happened. We both laughed about it. He was never a good boyfriend but he could be really sweet. I don’t think he has it in him to be anyone’s other half. but he had a really high sex drive and so do I so we were pretty compatible in that respect. His dick was as big around as my wrist and we were good in bed together. He is one of the only men I’ve ever been in love with and he never deserved it.


My First ONS

I was super drunk at a high school party. He was the third person I ever had sex with. He was the first person to go down on me. I was so drunk that I finally tapped him out, went outside and threw up then went home and passed out.


My First Fuck Buddy

We had mutual friends. If we were at the same “thing.” We’d typically wind up having sex. We were young so it was just meh. I have no idea what happened to him.


The Pretty Boy

“The most attractive guy you’ve ever been on a date with” as my son described him. We had mutual friends and dated for a few months. He is still the most attractive man I‘ve ever had sex with. We weren’t compatible in bed. He was also more sensitive then I like my men but he was a nice guy. We still talk occasionally.


The Effing Maintenance Guy

The FMG was an attractive, well-built man who used to do maintenance at my apartment complex. He was charismatic and confident. I had a crush on him that had me acting like a middle school girl. We went on a few dates. I had abstained from sex for thirteen years before the FMG. When we finally had sex I was stupid infatuated with him. The truth is he was a narcissistic asshole. He always talked about himself and expected that I would just orgasm because he was inside of me. He didn’t take long to finish and I almost never did. He is the reason I started writing again and the reason I created my first blog but that is the only good thing that came from that relationship.

*When I started writing this list I kept reminding myself there were eighteen people who were on it. When I got to number seventeen I realized I’ve slept with nineteen people. I forgot one person before I even started writing.  This post has already benefitted me and is officially justified.










NSFW: Saturday Night (The Dry Spell is Over)

Saturday afternoon I sat in the backyard of my place under a willow tree in the shade with Jim, my second dad.  We had just poured ourselves glasses of brandy and had sat down to chat.  I was cranky.  I had just finished sixth straight day of work.  I had wanted the day off for my niece’s graduation but one of my coworkers wanted to go to a library patron’s graduation.

As I had finished about half of my glass my phone rang. It was my other coworker and friend. She had been in an argument with her husband and wanted me to come over for drinks.  She also had a graduation party to go to and didn’t want to go alone.  I agreed to go with her. Sunday was my only day off and I figured I might as well have some fun Saturday night.

She came and picked me up.  We went to the graduation party.  Half way through several beers she got a c all from her nephew, not the one she tried to fix me up with before, not the groper.  She told me she was going to grab a bottle and go and pick him up.  I stayed behind will she ran her errands.  I sat around and talked to the other party guests.  When she returned, I watched as her nephew got out of the car. He was a returning veteran of the Iraq war. She said he was cute but I had assumed he would look like his brother but I had never seen him.

He was gorgeous.  All the blood in my body flooded to my special place. As they approached he extended his hand to the graduates before we were introduced.  He held his hand out to me and gave me this smile that told me I could easily get laid that night if I so chose. We all socialized for another thirty minutes before my friend suggested we left and continued drinking at her place.

sn2The three of us piled in the truck and headed back to her place.  We sat in her shop and talked. Her nephew and I flirted, kept catching each other’s eye and smiling.  We walked to the store for more beer. When we got back to the house her nephew walked home to get his dog.  “What do you think [of my nephew]?” she asked. “I think he is fucking hot.” I said straightforwardly. “He looks like an Abocrombie and Fitch model,” she pointed out.  He was tall, thin and chiseled with curly dirty blond hair and blue eyes. He did look like a model.

I stepped out on the porch as I saw him coming back toward the yard.  He walked up to me and asked me, “Do you want to come back to my place and have some fun tonight?” I looked into his eyes. “Yes, I do,” I responded. “Good,” he said and smiled at me. We both walked into the house then headed back to the shop.  We sat around talking the played some darts.

sn1Every time he was near me he would say things like, “You are in so much trouble now,” and promised to make me scream.  I was a mess from that point on.  I was wet for hours before we left for his place. He would occasionally brush up against me or whisper something.  Halfway through a game of darts he stepped up behind me and pulled me into him.  Apparently he couldn’t wait much longer either.  “We are leaving,” he announced. He slid his fingers between mine and just like that we were walking back to his place.

When we got to the house I realized he was actually staying with his brother, the groper.  The groper has a girlfriend now so I didn’t see the issue.  He led me into the garage because he wanted smoke.   I plopped down onto the sofa in the middle of the space.  He leaned down over me and kissed me gently, lightly brushing his tongue against mine.  He sat down next to me and passed me a cigarette.  My hand slid up and down the inside of his thigh. About halfway through his cigarette I began rubbing his cock.  He immediately snubbed out his cigarette swung my legs up onto the couch, slid between them and started kissing me.  He sat back and I undid his pants and he pulled mine off and through them across the room. I took my hair out of the braid I had it pulled back in. “You are beautiful!” he exclaimed as if it were the first time he actually looked at me.  “Why would you ever pull your hair back? You should always wear it down. Don’t ever wear it up. You are fucking gorgeous.”  sn3

I blushed as he pulled me up and removed my tank top and bra.  I lay back on the sofa as he slid inside me.  “I am going to keep you up all night.” He whispered into my ear as he began moving rhythmically in and out of me.  And he kept his promise.  He made me scream several times.

sn5After a few hours we quietly made our way to his room.  We had sex from 9 p.m. until 4:00 a.m.  I was extremely sore and happy. At about 4:30 over exertion and dehydration from the alcohol started to take its toll on me. I felt nauseous and couldn’t sleep. I had said I’d stay the night but felt like I was going to be sick. I sat on the edge of the bed and fumbled for my clothes.  He lifted himself up off the bed and asked if I was leaving. I told him I was because I didn’t feel well and would keep him up.  “But I want to fuck you sober in the morning,” he whined.  “I want you to too,” I assured him, “but I feel like shit.” (And I really did although I was practically raw.) He finally conceded.

“Have you ever had that much sex in one night?” he asked.  “I have not and I am sore as hell. You should be proud of yourself.” I answered. He pulled me down to him and kissed me lightly on the lips. “I am always proud of myself,” he whispered.  I got up and left.

You gotta love twenty-five year olds.  They have stamina for days.  And yes he was really good in bed.

It All Started with the World’s Ugliest T-Shirt

IMAG0195_BURST004Last Tuesday as I got ready for work, I pulled on my new turquoise reading program tee and examined myself in the mirror. “This shirt is so fucking ugly,” I mumbled to myself.  We have a youth summer reading program this summer at all of the library branches and as part of the program we were given t-shirts with a squirrel reading a stack of books.  I suppose it is meant to inspire to children to read but I hate it.  It reminds me of a t-shirt a heavy older woman would wear. (Go ahead and give me shit about this. I don’t give a fuck.  The only adult women I see wearing shirts with cartoon characters on them are very heavy and/or old.) I would never voluntarily wear such a shirt.

When I entered the living room my nieces and best childhood friends had a grand old time teasing me about said shirt.  I was well aware of how stupid I looked but I had to wear the shirt at some point.  I went to my second day of work at my newest branch. It was business as usual aside from the fact that I kept remembering at random moments, mostly while talking to male patrons, that I was wearing that ugly t-shirt.

In the afternoon a cute guy came into the library dressed in a suit.  He was on his way to a job interview and was using the computer to send out another resume for a job.  He asked me for help and went over occasionally to answer a question for him.  He reminded me of a much taller version of Pretty Boy.  He had a nice smile and flirted with me every time he beckoned me over to help him.

When he was finished he came over to my desk and thanked me for helping him. We talked for a few minutes when he paused and asked, “Do you know how to tie a tie?” I glanced at his tie and realized he had it on backwards.  I laughed and told him it wasn’t in my job description.  I paused for a moment then asked him to come to me.  He untied his tie. I reached up and adjusted his tie, sliding the back of my hands down his chest as I did so.  He stared down at me and looked up at him. “Do you want a single or a double?” I asked. “Which ever you think looks best,” he said smiling.  I tied his tie then patted his chest. “All done,” I announced.

He looked down into my eyes and at that very moment I remembered I was still wearing that stupid fucking shirt. I met his gaze and he said, “You are really pretty.” I blushed looked down at my shirt and replied, “Yeah, with my sexy squirrel shirt.

I must have caught him off guard because as he started to laugh some spit shot out of his mouth and hit my face.  I looked down and wiped my face off.  He took a step back and so did I. He was embarrassed and I was embarrassed. He thanked me again and left.  It went from a bad porn plot to awkward in about one second.

Call me crazy but I think there should be a date before body fluids are exchanged.

Update: He did come back into the library.  He still seemed a little uncomfortable because of our last encounter but I still like looking at him.  Maybe we’ll have another moment.

Answering My Own Questions

I was tagged for this little game by a blogger friend last week.  The rules were that you had to answer eleven questions the person who tagged you asked and then create eleven questions of my own. One of my readers then inquired “I’m wondering if you got asked your eleven questions, what would be your answers?” I decided it would be easy enough to oblige him.

My Eleven Questions:

If you could have any super power what would it be? I always said if I could have one super power I would want the ability to make people disappear.  I wouldn’t want people to die.  I would just want them to go away and I would also have the ability to bring them back when I was less annoyed or sad or whatever reason I had for making them disappear in the first place. Now I think I would rather have the ability to understand what people really want from me.  I always see why I think they need me but that doesn’t always work very well for me.

Dogs or Cats? Cats and FUCK YOU!!!!!

What is the worst pick up line you’ve ever heard? When I was in Reno I had a drunk guy walk up to me and ask me if I washed my pants in Windex. I said no and he said, “That’s funny because I can see myself in them.”  A close second was at a bar in Washington.  Every time I went up to the bar to order a drink a dude sitting on a stool would say something like, “I wish you would cut it out” or “Please stop. You’re killing me.” After my fourth trip to the counter he put his hand on my arm and said “You just have to knock that off.” “What am I doing exactly?” I asked pretty agitated.  “Stop being so beautiful.” I rolled my eyes but thanked him and sent my ex to get our drinks for the rest of the night.

Beer or Wine? Beer

What is one thing that makes a person undateable? I dislike when people make definitive statements about anything.  I think everyone should be confident in their expression but don’t assume everyone agrees with you. If you can’t own your opinion then I find that very unattractive.

Bacon or Sausage? Bacon for eating.

What is the worst show on television? I think there are so many horrible shows on television.  I don’t watch much t.v. but my friend watches a ton of reality shows. I don’t like those shows at all. I feel like they are destroying the art of scripted television.

Challenger or Mustang? I would love to have a Challenger, new or old.

If you could become a member of the opposite sex for one day, would you? I absolutely would not.

Why? I love having a vagina.  I love having sex with men. I love their bodies.  I am glad I am a girl and that I get to enjoy men the way I do. I also love getting to wear pretty flowery things.

What would you do in your new body? If I had no choice and just woke up male.  I would stay in and jack off.  What their orgasm feels like would be the only thing I was interested in.

Tag (I’m Not It)

Imagine my surprise when I checked my comments and found Daan Van Den Bergh had tagged me in a fun little game going around the blogosphere.  It is no secret that I love these games and I am happy to participate (and annoy many of you by tagging you as well.

So, let’s get to it!

1. Post these rules.

2. Post a photo of yourself and eleven random facts about you.


  • I am not overly fond of children.  I don’t hate kids.  All in all they are cute little buggers but spending extended periods of time with them… they lose their charm.
  • I am currently, as I write this, babysitting my oldest friend’s twenty month old daughter. She is teething and has a hellacious cold.  She sleeps for five minutes at a time and is exhausted.  Poor baby girl.
  • All I keep thinking is that if I get a cold I am going to be super pissed.
  • I hate when people come to work sick.  If you are ill stay home and get better.  It sucks you are losing money but that doesn’t give you a reason to go infect everyone else you work with.
  • Yesterday at work a patron (who threw a folded up piece of paper with his number on it on my desk when he left) asked me if I knew the girl who worked on Monday.  I worked on Monday.  He didn’t believe it was me.
  • I don’t think I look that different with my hair down.
  • I had another patron ask me what days I would be working at my new branch.  When I told him he assured me he would be there every day.  This did not thrill me.
  • I helped a guy that very much reminded me of a Pretty Boy tie his tie.
  • If he wasn’t attractive I wouldn’t have done it.
  • I don’t do things I don’t want to do even when it is probably in my best interest.
  • I got spit on (not intentionally) by a patron at the library.  I will write a post about it soon.

3. Answer the questions given to you in the tagger’s post.

Daan’s questions:

Why do you think tag games like this exist? Because while some of us enjoy them, it annoys most people.  I can appreciate that.

Do you think they’re fun? All in all I love answering questions. I like interviews so yes I think they are fun.

Do you hate me for tagging you? It actually amuses the hell out of me.

Would you hate me if I would call you a vagina, twice a day, for the rest of your life? Nope. Not even a little.

Why not? Since I have a vagina… I am not offended by being called a vagina.

Are you sure? I am positive I have a vagina. I can offer references if you’d like.

So, do you enjoy being called a vagina? I can think of worse things you could call me.

Do you like Scooby Snacks? Are we talking about dog treats or… I am guessing I wouldn’t like them.

Would you like them, if I told you I liked them? Nope.

Are you capable of forming your own opinion about stuff? I actually think this may be why I don’t have too many friends.

Will you promise to ask the people you tag very annoying and random questions? I solemnly swear.

4. Create eleven new questions…

My questions:

If you could have any super power what would it be?

Dogs or Cats?

What is the worst pick up line you’ve ever heard?

Beer or Wine?

What is one thing that makes a person undateable?

Bacon or Sausage?

What is the worst show on television?

Challenger or Mustang?

If you could be become a member of the opposite sex for one day, would you?


What would you do in your new body?

…and tag new people to answer them.



The Wandering Mind



Pasta for One

Viciously Sweet

Pink Ninjabi



Life of JWo (I am such a cheater)

5. Go to their blog/Twitter and let them know they’ve been tagged.


Have fun!

Look at You Living

well-look-at-you-living-an-f3359a80-sz320x320I have spent the better part of my forty years on this planet single.  I didn’t date until I was a senior in high school. I got pregnant and decided after a few years that dating and single parenting didn’t really work for me.   I had a child and no financial help.  Meeting the emotional and financial needs of my child left me pretty drained in every way imaginable.  I worked and spent time with my child and did little else.  For thirteen years I didn’t date and I didn’t have sex.

So for more than thirty years of my life I have been single. I’ve only dated three men for longer than a year. Two of them, in their respective spots on my timeline, I would have gladly let stay for much longer than they had.  I would have been more than content to let either of them stay indefinitely. Sadly I didn’t have much say in the matter. I really cared about one and truly loved the other in spite of the tiny indications that something wasn’t fitting together the way it should.

Those relationships, the ones we really want to work out, the ones we can feel slipping away before they actually fall apart have a way of making us want to fight for something that isn’t what it should be.  We choose to go on feeling the way we do about someone who is fading away.  We choose to battle against the inevitable.

When you fight so hard for something we often have harder time when it those relationships end. Expending so much energy leaves you weak and often ill prepared for the additional emotional anguish you experience from a partners absence.  Instead of accepting what has happened you tend to try to hold on a little longer.  You try to maintain a friendship or some sort of physical relationship in the hopes that you can retain some sense of a relationship with someone who doesn’t feel the two of you are meant to be together.

By clinging to an unhappy situation you are closing yourself off to the potential of something new and good but that is often what we do.  We hold on to our misery. It is the new emotion we associate with someone who, at some point, made us happy.  It destroys everything about that person that brought us joy.  We condition ourselves to fight for what we want and can’t seem to stop fighting for it even when it is no longer good for us.

When a relationship ends it is important to let that happen in its own time and not struggle with the pieces as they crumble.  We need to learn to stop fighting for things that won’t fulfill us.  When we do this we are really just holding on to our pain. We need to let go and move forward.  We need to allow ourselves distance from the pain.

Breakups can be devastating.  You just want to hide and wallow and overanalyze everything.  We want someone to blame and typically blame ourselves but the truth is it just didn’t work out the way we wanted it to and we probably saw it coming.  It’s okay to fight for a relationship you are in but once it’s ended you have to stop fighting.  You have to love yourself enough to know that once it’s over you just have an opportunity to find something better.

Rumor Has It

I started this rumor a year or so ago that I would be writing a book.  I then found out I lacked the motivation to write a book most because I’ve found it hard to choose a topic and I am worried that if I go with something it might just suck. So much for my unfaltering ego, huh?

This past week, I was contacted by a literary agency in New York.  They were curious if I had a manuscript and if I didn’t have one was I planning to write one as they were very interested in representing me.  The agent who contacted me had been reading my blog and thought there was a very high chance I could be published should I write a non-fiction book.

This is all very exciting but it brings me back to all the same things that have been freaking me out about writing one.  I don’t want to write anything that won’t work.  I have been thinking about it a great deal and I know that if this doesn’t motivate me to do it I will never get one written.  The whole week still seems like a dream to me.

I really want to know what you all think. I am leaning toward a memoir covering the past (and most adventurous) years of my life.  What would you like to see me do?


The One When My Friend Thought I Had an STD

So as all of the internet knows, I had a doctor’s appointment Monday.  I also had a training at work which I had to leave to go to my doctor’s appointment.  I was in a panic and stressed about returning to the meeting let before I even left so I was good and anxious when the doctor sat down in front of me.  He asked about my health history and if there were any particular reason I had come to see him.

I explained the situation and must have seemed even more tightly wound than I felt because he asked me several time if I was being treated for anxiety or depression.  I assured him it was definitely more anxiety but both.  I told what I was taking and how much.  He started me on a lower dose because apparently starting up on my dose after a two month hiatus could make me pretty sick. But… I did get my prescription and follow up appointment.

pillsLike I’ve said here and in a piece I recently wrote for Black Box Warnings, I don’t really talk about my issues or medication with anyone.  I feel like people make basic assumptions about people who are treated for emotional problems and I manage myself just fine.  I am just as capable if not more capable than most of the people I know.  Only handful of my friends know I am on medication and most of them found out in a roundabout way.  I didn’t just dome out and offer up that information.  Actually, the last couple of guys I dated never knew either and I practically lived with one of them.  He knew I was taking something every day.  He didn’t ask what and I never felt inclined to offer up that information.

This caused a pretty interesting and somewhat insulting misunderstanding for me yesterday.  I’ve been staying with a friend who lives a neighboring town (where I’ve picked up some extra hours at another library branch) who I have been staying with on the days I work there.  I have known her for thirty-three years and until yesterday she did know I was taking anything.

condomShe drove me to the doctor’s and picked me up afterwards.  I just told her I had an appointment I couldn’t miss it.  I also told her, a week or so ago, about my most recent ex and his recent discovery that he had gotten a treatable STD from some skank he dated briefly.  (And he wonders why I always insisted on condoms).

Now he dated this woman two months ago.  The last time I saw him was July.  All she heard was he has cooties and I urgently needed to go to the doctor.  A+(selective hearing)B= My best friend had cooties.

I was totally unaware of her assumption.  I went to the doctor. They phoned in my prescription. I made it back to work before our lunch break was over. When II got off of work I hopped on a bus, picked up my prescription and went back to her place.

stdLater that night when she got off work she asked me about my day and if I had picked up my prescription. I told her I had and then she (kinda’ smugly) asked, “How long do you have to take them?” I thought it was odd she would ask me until I realized she thought I had gone because I had contracted (apparently through long distance osmosis) what ailed my ex.  I looked at her for a long minute and answered, “For the rest of my life…” “Ooooh, it’s one of those” she said as though something had clicked.

I assumed she knew what I was talking about but today on my way home it occurred to me she probably thinks I have herpes . Fuck! She totally thinks I have herpes.  So…

To my oldest friend in the world,

I don’t have herpes.  I don’t have any sexually transmitted diseases and I never have.  I am really big on safety. I can’t get something from someone who contracted something long after we stopped having sex.


The Narcissist



Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,197 other followers