Anonymous said: Sleeping with the same partner.. The same dick the same excitement. It's like case work.. Yawn. We all know how exciting sizing something new is..
I guess if you’re having terrible sex, the same partner might get boring. Bad sex = constant need to switch things up?
You seem to find being monogamous as strange as I find being polyamorous. What is natural for me is unnatural for you, and vice versa.
Some people love the thrill of variety and emotional detachment. I am not one of those people. I have had many opportunities for casual sex, and in the heat of the moment, I always realized I’d rather not. I don’t have the desire without an emotional connection.
I need more. I need an emotional bond. I need a life partner. That might sound boring to you, but a life of random dicks sounds very sad to me.
Why don’t we respect everyone’s way of living instead of criticizing it for being different, or assuming they’re yearning for greener pastures.
I am so fucking happy and do not wish for anything different.
10 Things Your Dog Would Tell You..
- My life is likely to last 10 to 15 years. Any separation from you will be painful: remember that before you get me.
- Give me time to understand what you want of me.
- Place your trust in me- it is crucial to my well being.
- Do not be angry at me for long, and do not lock me up as punishment.
- You have your work, your entertainment,and your friends. I only have you.
- Talk to me sometimes. Even if I don’t understands your words, I understand your voice when it is speaking to me.
- Be aware that how ever you treat me, I will never forget.
- Remember before you hit me that I have teeth that could easily hurt you, but I choose not to bite you because I love you.
- Before you scold me for being uncooperative, obstinate, or lazy, ask yourself if something might be bothering me. Perhaps I might not be getting the right food, or I have been out too long, or my heart is getting too old and weak.
- Take care of me when I get old; you too will grow old. Go with me on difficult journeys. Never say: “I cannot bear to watch” or “Let it happen in my absence.” Everything is easier for me if you are there, even my death.
Christians* make things so complicated for themselves
My super-Christian sister is telling me she’s reading a book on “what Jesus actually said” and how most “Christians” aren’t anything like Jesus. She’s like yeah, right now I’m reading about how Jesus never said anything about homosexuality. This is all new to her.
I just want to be like, yeah, Jesus made it pretty easy. All you have to worry about is loving everyone. That’s it.
*I’m referring to what seems to be the unfortunate majority (or at least the loudest group) of people who call themselves Christians. Not Christians who are actual Jesus-wannabes, those ones are pretty awesome and really nice. I’ve only met a handful.
Sick of girls saying shit like “God will bring the right man into my life if I’m a good Christian and follow the Lord, blah blah blah.”
STOP FUCKING WORRYING ABOUT WHEN YOU’RE GOING TO GET MARRIED! IT DOESN’T DEFINE YOU! LIVE YOUR FUCKING LIFE AND LET SHIT FALL WHERE IT MAY.
Two months had gone by before I saw him again. The last time was in April. He had just moved into a new apartment. His new girlfriend was moving in later that afternoon. We got lunch at a nearby sandwich shop and ate it on his balcony. He was nervous. I half-heartedly helped him straighten up the place. I left before she arrived.
I never met her. I guess she didn’t like me—or didn’t like girls who used to fuck her boyfriend.
We talked every day anyway. He wished me a good morning before my boyfriend did (if he did at all), and he kept me entertained throughout my boring days at work.
The day I saw him again, we decided to meet up for lunch, at the same place we had lunch last time. We talked every day, but I missed him. I missed the familiar comfort of his presence, even though we both had other people now.
I got to the sandwich shop first. I waited anxiously in a booth, looking out the window for his distinct yellow pickup truck. After a few long minutes, I saw it pull up. A tall man got out, wearing a long-sleeved denim shirt and light brown Levis—clothing inappropriate for the sweltering June afternoon, but perfect for a day in an air-conditioned office.
He opened the glass doors, I got up to meet him, and we embraced like old friends do.
He had a beard now. His eyes were more blue than I remembered. He looked taller. He looked older.
We ate and talked for longer than he probably should have taken for a lunch break. He told me his relationship wasn’t going well. I gave him the advice a friend should give him, but I secretly wished it would end.
I didn’t want him to go back to work. I didn’t know when I would see him again. I missed him more than you’re supposed to miss a friend. I missed him more than you’re supposed to miss someone who isn’t your boyfriend.
It was 8:12am. She lay in bed, half awake. He was in the kitchen.
After a while, he opened the bedroom door. She jumped. He held out a mug. She sat up, looked at the mug, looked at him, took the mug, inspected its contents. Fresh coffee. That’s why he was in the kitchen.
“How do you want you eggs?” He asked.
“What? Oh… Over easy,” she sleepily replied.
He left for the kitchen, closing the bedroom door behind him.
Alone, she remembered she was holding a mug of coffee. She took a sip. As the liquid flowed down her throat, she thought, “This coffee sucks.”
She was drunk
A lightweight on Easter night, her boyfriend gave her two strong whiskey-gingers while they sat in their backyard with their roommates and friends. Later, she managed to fill her glass with red wine—twice—while talking to a girl in her kitchen. By 9:30 she was drunk and ready for bed. Her boyfriend led her to their shared bedroom. He wasn’t sleepy. They fucked; they did not make love. It was the kind of quick drunk fuck she would forget as soon as it was over. She was the kind of girl who always came—and on the rare occasion she didn’t, it was her lover’s fault, for which she would never forgive him.
Tonight, she did not come. He did, and as soon as he did the fucking was over. She didn’t care. She loved him—like the massage she gave him when he came home from work earlier that day, this act of coitus was purely out of her love for him. He pulled himself slowly out of her, grabbed some paper towels for her, put on his pants, and headed back downstairs.
She didn’t care. She was at the point where she was debating between making herself vomit and passing out.
It’s been 6 months since “Manfriend” broke up with me, and I still haven’t gotten my stuff back.
- For the first two months after we broke up, I asked him every couple of weeks if we could meet up. At first he said he wanted more time before talking to me. Then he stopped responding.
- From what I
am subjected tosee via social media, he started dating a girl that looks like Spock almost immediately after we broke up, if not before. It’s really weird to see him with someone who is nothing like me: her and his common traits are the opposite of what mine and his were. And the things he didn’t like about me are things I have in common with her, except in her case they are worse/to a bigger degree.
- Emotionally, I didn’t want to deal with seeing him, so I stopped asking him. It’s been so long now, I’m afraid that 1) he will still ignore me even though he “promised” he would after some time, 2) he will agree to see me.
- I don’t know if I’m ready to see him. There are things I’ll have to tell him when I do see him, at least for closure purposes. It’s felt like a burden to not have gotten it over with. My therapist says I should just do it. But also, for other reasons, I want a new therapist; I stopped going a while ago.
- It’s been so long since we dated, yet it feels like we broke up yesterday, yet I can hardly remember our relationship/anything about it because I was on the verge of mental collapse. I was not mentally healthy when I met him and I only got worse while we dated, and I didn’t seek professional help until 2 or 3 months after we broke up—and only after two traumatic experiences and a complete nervous breakdown.
- I’m not sure if I’m ok enough to see him yet.
- I would like my stuff back, though. This is stupid. Why do I have to contact him, anyway? Doesn’t he want my stuff out of his place? Or his stuff back? Also, if she’s using my hairdryer, I will rip those stupid Spock bangs out of her head.
- I wonder if he’s just avoiding me because of the
Vulcangirl. Sure it bothers me that he’s just like every guy I’ve dated and starts seeing someone else immediately after (or before) we break up, but he’s planning to go to law school next year, so their relationship is doomed anyway.
- He has the emotional capacity of a robot. It troubles me. I worry that seeing him would be more painful that forgetting, but I don’t know if forgetting without closure is healthy either. I used to have nightmares about another ex (the one that literally walked out on me) almost nightly until I mailed him his shit back with a letter telling him everything I wanted to say. Once sent, the nightmares ended and I felt lighter.
- Someone else loves me. He’s only the second person to tell me he loves me. He’s the first person that I know loves me.
Love is love. That my lover’s genitalia is different than mine does not make my love more important or more deserving.
Spent Valentine’s Day with JB trying to be unromantic, we had fun,
Lawyered my ex-landlord,
Guy from school took advantage of me while I was drunk (grabbing and stuff),
Started avoiding school as much as possible
Broke it off with JB,
Spring break in Denver,
Met who would become Manfriend,
Had an amazing 23-hour first date with Manfriend,
Barrister’s Ball, still anxious and depressed about what happened at the last school function
Friend from high school died,
Navy sister went to Afghanistan,
Manfriend stopped talking to me for almost 4 weeks,
Finished my second semester of law school,
Slept with T,
Got my tonsils out,
T told me he couldn’t speak to me anymore (made up with his gf),
Throat ruptured a week after my surgery, all alone and gushing blood, literally thought I was dying for about 30 minutes, ambulance took me to the hospital,
Lost 15 lbs, went from a size 4 to a 2
Another fight with Manfriend, he didn’t speak to me for 2 weeks,
Slept with JB a few times while Manfriend wasn’t speaking to me,
Had a terrible terrible experience with an edible, which I will never do again (or eat Jimmy John’s again),
Made up with Manfriend,
Finished my summer externship,
Lost my scholarship (2.9, needed a 3.0)
Moved out of my dreaded apartment and into an awesome house by City Park with two awesome dudes,
Went back to Michigan for 9 days,
Started my second year of law school,
Got my second tattoo with my girl Lynds
School got to be overwhelming,
Grandpa died (the best Grandpa I could ask for), flew to Detroit for the funeral, heartbreaking,
Anxiety going from bad to horrible,
Navy sister (a year younger than me) came back from Afghanistan,
Manfriend broke up with me
Navy sister got engaged,
Really really really depressed about Manfriend,
Went through my I’m-single-again-so-party-every-night-and-get-wasted phase,
Streets of London stopped carding me,
Got an OK Cupid account and 100 messages the first weekend,
Went on one good OKC date (sorry I didn’t hang again, kind of) and one very terrible date (sorry I let you kiss me),
JB became my friend with benefits,
JB and I got robbed at gunpoint,
Stopped going out,
Got my third tattoo: JB and I got matching unicorn tattoos (BFFs!)
Visited my Navy sister in California for Thanksgiving,
Really really missed JB while I was gone
JB and I were becoming more than just FWB’s,
Finally saw a shrink about my anxiety,
Halfway finished with law school,
Went back to Michigan for Christmas, got food poisoning and only got to see one of my friends,
JB and I became “official” on Facebook
Feelings, and fear of them, seem to always get in the way of otherwise great relationships.
Dear 16-22 year old self,
I know you’re poor, but please spend the $10-16 on eyebrow waxing/threading. This is not an area to be penny-pinching. I just spent the past 20 minutes deleting unflattering pictures of you off Facebook.
Also, please consider exercising and going veg. You won’t lose weight, but you’ll tone up and look healthier. The baby fat in your cheeks will go away once you stop eating ice cream and salami every day. And stop worrying about your boobs shrinking if you exercise—they’re still there in all their glory.
Your life will flourish after you and E break up. He’s holding you back in more ways than you can imagine. Leave him now. It’s going to suck for a while, but you’ll find yourself in the process. Your fears about him turned out to be true: he’s going nowhere in life and doesn’t care. At 25, you two are complete opposites. Also, after breaking up, you’ll quickly learn that E was actually horrible in bed.
When B gets pissed at his friend Mike and leaves you alone at the party, that’s when you need to call it off. The next year and a half are going to feel like a perpetual cycle of disappointment and heartbreak if you stick it out. He’s going to get mad at you for a lot of stupid reasons and you’ll cry and feel like shit all the time. He’ll never say “I love you.” Then he’ll leave you for a girl who belongs in a Patagonia catalog for the ugly. They just bought a house in Leadville. Obviously, I’m much happier without him.
Don’t be afraid to do stupid things or fuck up. You’re going to do it all eventually—everybody does—but it’s so much easier to learn the hard way when you’re young.
Start reading feminist authors.
Have sex. Stop waiting. Your heart will get broken regardless of if you sleep with any of them, so just have fun and be safe.
Be present. Have fun today. You’ll regret it later if you don’t.
You’ll get hurt the most from the times you compromised yourself and your needs. Expectation and potential don’t make up for present actions. Excuses mean nothing without an apology, especially when you’re the one making excuses for them. Nobody changes.
You’re going to be very happy once you decide to listen to yourself and do what you want. Having someone be proud of you is a great feeling, but it doesn’t beat the feeling of finding your passion and making it your life.
With that said, you’re doing great at 25. You’re happier, healthier, and your life is so much more interesting. You have a lot to look forward to.
With wisdom and love,
Your 25 year old self
P.S. Thank you for being anal about using sunscreen.