Letting it All Out
I haven’t written lately because things have been kinda crazy. Right after they flea-fogged the house one of the cats got really toxed and sick and almost died. Great. So now he’s living at my roommate’s ex’s house who actually stole him from her for TWO MONTHS earlier this year after they had a nasty breakup. I’m really disappointed, but she says he’s doing much better and that he just seems like that’s where he wants to be, back with his kitty family there. I’m sad. I don’t understand why he doesn’t sense how much pain and drama my roommate’s ex has caused so many people. For a long time she begged and begged for them to get me to talk to her, but I just can’t fucking do it. I wish her the best, but I cannot associate myself with abusers and people who can’t act like grownups and keep their selfish anger in check. NO thank you.
Also had a couple of issues with Dana. First, I sliced the corner of my index finger off the other night. Sorry, I know it’s gross. The piece that was cut is still attached, and it’s healing underneath. Can’t wait til it stops hurting. Anyway. Dana. So she was far away when this happened, but for someone reason she was the only person I wanted to help me at that moment. Let me tell you a little something about me. I don’t cry. Ok, I rarely cry. There are lots of times when I want to but usually I can’t. When I’m in physical pain, all of my emotional pain bubbles up to the surface and comes out at the same time. So when I wrote to her saying what happened and she said, “I’m far away, can you call margarita?” I took that to mean that she didn’t want to take care of me. You see, less than six months after we met, she cut her finger on the meat slicer at work. Grizzly. I rushed there, picked her up, and took her to the walk-in clinic, held her hand while she screamed and cried as they gave her an injection for the pain and stitched her up. At this moment, with my finger bleeding, and my heart still aching (after 4 months!), screaming and crying all alone in my house, the only person I wanted to see said, “I’m far away, can you call someone else.” Margarita came and her beau helped me rinse it with water and put triple-antibiotic and bandaids on it and they sat with me until Dana got home about an hour later. He’s a very special fella, I appreciate his company a lot. I realized later that she probably just wanted help to come to me faster, and Margarita lives four minutes away. I felt sorry so I wrote to her and told her that I was sorry for over reacting, that I was in a lot of pain and that I didn’t mean to misjudge her intentions. She never wrote back.
I think that was the first time she fucked this new girl. In the house we share even though we’re not together. I know I’m not supposed to care. They’re just friends, it’s no big deal, and knowing Dana, she will lose interest quickly. She doesn’t want to admit it, but she will fuck anything feminine that has a vagina. She can find something cute, endearing, hot or smart in anyone and use that to justify wanting to have sex. I know this because I’ve seen it happen like six times. WTF. I didn’t find out this was happening until the second time, a couple of nights ago when I came home from walking the neighborhood with Margarita. Went to the bathroom on my side of the house, came out to get a snack from the kitchen and out walks this tender hearted, curvaceous girl whom my queer family has been getting to know lately. Stark naked, on her way to the other bathroom. I played it off like it was no big deal because I didn’t want to get upset, and I wasn’t angry at her, I was angry with Dana. For no good reason, I’m sure.
I know it’s not my place to know who she sleeps with and when, but coming home to find her naked together with someone is not my favorite. I would have appreciated a warning. They were finished and they thought nobody was home because my car was parked out of sight and they actually thought it was our roommate because I took the dogs out when I got home. I wrote to Dana later saying, “Please show me some respect by warning me next time.” She didn’t mean to disrespect me, I know this. But I felt like such a fool. It was that same feeling like when a big kid plays a mean trick on you and you totally fall for it. Why did that feeling come up? We talked about some things when Dana got home from work the next day. She brought up the whole thing with fuckface, the one I was seeing right after we broke up, saying that she felt really sad that I was doing that. I didn’t think that was fair because 1) she broke up with me, so why would that hurt and 2) I was really hurting at the time and that was all I had (and I had been seeing hym previously, since we had an open relationship). This person really treated me poorly. Dana isn’t going to get hurt by this girl. Maybe I’m irrational, but I don’t think it’s a fair to relate these two situations to one another. I cried to her about how I love her so dearly and deeply and that my personal growth is seriously stunted because I have to see this woman that I love with so much of my being every single day, knowing that she doesn’t love me in the same way. In general, I’m non-committal, but I went all in with her. And for nothing.
Well. I’ve sorta gotten over that, except that I really don’t like her sneaking around me. I’d rather know it’s happening than play the fool, finding out by accident, like this time.
This on top of staying up all night on Thursday night talking to RIM trying to fix my blackberry, after talking to other friends about their various relationship issues, and then not being able to rest because I had to take my aunt to the doctor in the morning… Cutting my finger off, finding out she’s fucking someone in the other bedroom. Rather than rolling with the punches, I feel like I’m being tossed in the waves.
All I have to do is let go.
I’m so lonely. Not the kind of lonely you feel when you haven’t seen your friends in a long time because you’ve been working like crazy, or the kind of lonely you get when you have to travel a long time without a companion. Rather, I’m longing for physical touch, to be in the arms of another once again. I don’t know if it has anything to do with the fact that I am (a) submissive, but I have a strong desire, maybe it is a need, to be cared for. Not cared -about- but cared -for-. I want to be nestled into the cocoon of someone else’s body. I need to cry but it’s hard for me to cry when I’m alone. My friends hardly touch me, and most of them, most of the time, I wish they wouldn’t touch me. Then there are others, like Margarita, whom I am afraid to touch because I know she’s not very comfortable with physical affection between friends, reserving that for lovers only. I can’t remember how long it has been since I was able to rest my head in someone’s lap while they pet my hair. That has been the most beneficial touch for me even since I was in high school, and it is something I rarely get. Less that once a year. It recharges my batteries like nothing else does. I’m lonely for physical affection, but I also miss sexual connection. It is deeply important to me. I didn’t get sex toward the end of the relationships with Dana, I would beg for it but she would always be too tired, too stressed, or find some reason why we couldn’t. Clearly she has plenty of time for it now. Ug. Orgasms are so much better with another person. They take longer, but they are much more satisfying to me when I can connect spiritually with another person. Talking about all this makes me miss Crave. She doesn’t talk to me anymore, and neither does Korrie, with whom I also connected in a sacred spiritual way late this past spring. Boy does that hurt.
Also, I have a crush on an xy boy. No lie. This hasn’t really happened since before I came out. Highly irregular. But I have believed for along time that “lesbian” is a political term rather than a sexual one, although it is mostly associated with same-sex desire. I might describe myself as queer with lesbian feminist politics. Queer because I am and have been attracted to all types of people, of any sex and gender. With lesbian feminist politics, acknowledging that lesbian sex and lifestyles are critical to women’s liberation. Yeah, I said it. I’m one of the women’libbers. If only I didn’t like getting fucked with a big hard cock so damn much. I miss that too. And I’m dying for a warm wet mouth on my pussy.
On the bright side, I’ve dropped a dress size and ten pounds since I started exercising and eating right. Also have quit smoking for two months now, and have been vegetarian the same amount of time. I’ve almost completely reversed my type 2 diabetes. I’m doing great physically. Emotionally, not so great.
I’m a mess.
P.S. Go read the Femme’s Guide. I’ve been writing there. Will be responding to the monthly prompt and writing my Femme in the Kitchen Column over the next week.
P.P.S. FEMME CONFERENCE IN TWO WEEKS, I’M ALREADY PICKING MY OUTFITS!
P.P.P.S. Don’t even get me started about roommate #4 who moved out half way through the lease, making it almost impossible for roommate #3 to live here, and Dana and I can’t afford the place by ourselves. Angry doesn’t even cut it. Nevermind the fact that I WANTED TO MOVE OUT. Because living with my ex is detrimental to my emotional and mental health. But she gets to move out because she’s broke. Fuck you.