Okay, I started this entry last week (the 22nd), so things might be dated. Live with it.

I also have a mondo cold right now, so if things don’t make sense, that’s why. Holy crap have I had so many typos just in that small amount of text already. I’m doomed.

To begin with, a treatise on power:

It’s been said by the coworker that I have issues with power, that I need to wield all of it in relationship situations.

The first part is true; the second is not.

I find that in the majority of relationships I’ve been in, I had over all, or almost all of the power to the guy I’m seeing. I tend not to take “ownership”of the relationship, or claim my own equal power in the relationship, or however you want to put it. Then I wind up getting frustrated or feeling used or confused, stressed, whatever... and it gets weird and confusing.

When UBFM and I started dating, I was 15 to his 21. He treated me like shit, undermined my confidence, repeatedly betrayed my trust and got me in the worst situation I’ve ever been in in my whole romantic life. He wasn’t the first person I opened up to and trusted, but we were together for three years – a relationship that destructive for that long, especially at that age, can really screw with a person.

I’m not going to itemize all my relationships, because I’ve done that before and it’s boring to you, plus I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to place blame on the guys I’ve dated. That’s not the case by far, and any “blame” I’d place would be on me, except in a few situations (such as UBFM and the coworker). Sure, the coworker would whine t you about how he loved me and so on, but honestly, if you really love someone that way, you treat them better at the very least. I never loved him, let’s be clear – and I never told him I did, either.

Anyhow... basically... I don’t know. I have no self-confidence when it comes to relationships and I’ve wound up in some situations that’ve worked to completely and totally undermine said confidence – which always fucks me up and makes me screwy(ier).

But, tangent. I have no direction to this, so I don’t even know if I’m telling it right.

I do know that after a relationship ends – when it’s not my choice – I don’t want that guy to know things about me anymore, because that gives them the opportunity to know things I might not want them to know... in other words, have power over me. This is why after J and I broke up, basically, my sex life no longer appeared on this site. Sure, you could try and read between the lines, and in some cases you might’ve been right, but in other circumstances, there were dates and sexy happenings and illicit rendez-vous that never graced your screens. Partly because I was trying to keep from hurting someone, and partly because I was trying to keep that information from someone else. Let them think I was living a dateless, sexless life – I, and select friends, knew otherwise. It’s not as exciting as that statement makes it sound, but nor is it as empty as some may think.

Anyhow, early on in a relationship – or even throughout some – I have various shields that are up. For example, with the pizza guy, I never completely relaxed. Same with the coworker.

By contrast, at least initially, with a few other ‘boyfriends’, those were down.

These shields constitute walls to protect information or feelings I may not want to share. Disgust at a particular habit or lack of something like personal hygiene, a sense of humour or personal ethics drastically different than mine, or a sense (or direct experience) that my personal feelings, concerns or what-have-you won’t be respected all factor into whether or not my shields are up. Especially when things that are important to me are repeatedly brushed aside or mocked by a particular individual.

As well, when I’ve been burned by someone, my shields are up and reinforced, no matter how much of a nice guy the new boy may seem or be. After all, if the last boy I dated was nice and yet burned me, how/why should I trust a new one?

Of course, I could just stop dating assholes and accept that sometimes even nice people hurt us. I don’t always consider myself nice (though goodness knows I could be a much worse person if my inner censor didn’t monitor my inner bitch so carefully), but I never set out to deliberately hurt anyone, and sometimes it still happens.

I don’t always share all of my thoughts and feelings with people because I never know what someone can or can’t handle hearing. It seems to change all the time, especially if someone is sensitive or having a bad day. I’m the same way.

I think I’m straying off-topic. Like I said, the hazards of free-form.

I want people to get to know me, but I can’t let them in if they can’t be prepared to accept that not all of me is sunshine and roses... or hell, if they can’t sit still long enough to listen and get to know me beyond what they perceive. I get crabby, I have bad days, I can be short (or very long) on patience or temper... sometimes I think things that aren’t very nice. I don’t think this makes me inhuman, but some people seem to think so – or at least act that way. As if they never have unkind thoughts or something.

At the same time, I like to hope that my friends know me well enough to know that I don’t say or do cruel things deliberately or intentionally. Unless I preface it with something like, “I hate saying this, but...” or “this is going to come out all wrong...” chances are what I said was simply very much misinterpreted or someone is having a sensitive/bad day and wants to blame me for being a bitch or insensitive instead of going, “I am having a sensitive/bad day because of lack of sleep/PMS/random other frustration unrelated to the current conversation. I will assume that Jen isn’t meaning to be hurtful with her remarks because I know her and so on.” I do this regularly if I’m having a sensitive/PMS day, deliberately not reacting to things if I don’t think I’d be overreacting because of hormones and so on.
Anyhow...as a consequence of being burned by relationships and friends, I’m often very reluctant to make myself vulnerable to people. This means that I let people tell me off and don’t stand up for myself; I don’t like to ask for things for myself, and I’m hesitant to reveal my thoughts on people – or when I do, if they differ from someone else’s thoughts, I’ll often temper mine so they’re more in line with theirs. Of course, after the way the coworker dumped all of his retarded shit on me, I’m often paranoid that I get my way too often, that I’m making to many of the decisions and so on and so forth. Hence the “power” battle rages on.

*sigh* I guess, more than power, I have issues with trust. I trust people right away – usually – but not completely. Or only certain levels of completely – those I trust with my feelings, or those I trust with personal secrets... mind you, I don’t think I have ever told anyone my fantasies, by they sexual, romantic or life-oriented. Well, for sure sexual. That’s a hard line to step over.

I’m getting better, I think. I had coffee with Mark last week and we talked and I shared my feelings for him and things that factored into our break-up, and it wasn’t near as hard as I thought it would be. Whether that’s personal growth or distance or just feeling like I don’t have a whole lot to lose, I don’t know.

Someone having power over you is scary. Someone having the ability to hurt you is pretty awful, especially if it’s awhile after your relationship has ended. I tend to feel for boys awhile after our relationship has ended (regardless of who ends it), so I once again give them power over me. I’d love to be able to just stop feeling sometimes, but I just don’t work that way. I guess this is why I don’t always reveal my feelings – because it’s one thing to admit to myself that person so-and-so can hurt me, but telling them that gives them the power to decide to either continue hurting me, making the decision to stop.

And once you’ve told someone they can hurt you, it’s pretty tough to convince them otherwise.

I wrote an awful lot more on this than I realized, and I’m still not sure if I’ve explained myself adequately. I don’t know if I can.

What I do know is that the last bundle of relationships/close calls have certainly helped frustrate me, and moved towards undermining my confidence.

Namely, what is so scary to guys about girlfriends? I mean, obviously the practice of having a girlfriend isn’t totally dead, because there are guys out there who have ‘em, but I think that must be a grandfather clause or something – aside from maybe Shawn or Ben, I don’t remember the last time I spoke to a guy who admitted he wanted a girlfriend.

Hell, it’s nearly impossible to find a guy who wants to date, for that matter. It seems as though guys right now only want to have casual, regular, no-strings sex. This pattern repeats across age lines, personality types, looks, and regardless of where I meet them or how I interact with them; i.e., unlike what a friend of mine suggested, it matters not what I discuss with these boys. I have received those “I just wanna fuck” proposals from all walks of boys, regardless of what I initially (or constantly) said or otherwise.

Am I perhaps trending towards boys who have had bad girlfriend experiences in the past and so therefore assume I will be the same psychotic, jealous, possessive, uncaring, cold fish evil demon that she was?

I like to think that I can be a good girlfriend on occasion. I like to make people I care about happy, I’m intelligent, clean, not butt-ugly, giving, cuddly, entertaining (sometimes in odd ways, but it works), open-minded, and all sorts of actual decent things like that... so what is it about me that boys see that turns them off? What is it about me that says, “Fuck me, but don’t date me?”

This sounds like a “poor me” message, but it really isn’t. I’m honestly trying to figure it out. In bars it seems I give off a PFO vibe, yet guys who talk to me seem to feel differently. They seem to think that I am asking/saying, PFM – please fuck me – BDDM – but don’t date me.

I used to have relationships all the time; I was never able to just date someone, he would become my boyfriend way too soon for that. Yet, now that I want to date and/or have a boyfriend, I’m buggered if I can find a guy who can bear my company long enough to learn about me beyond the colour of my underwear or the locations of my piercings (either of which aren’t a big deal to me, and I’ll tell ya if you ask).

I’m only ranting because this has been a patter of mine for awhile now. It’s changing now, maybe, but... regardless, it’s still frustrating. At times I feel I should somehow feel embarrassed or ashamed about wanting a boyfriend, but nuts to that. I wants what I wants.

I’m also wise enough to know that, despite past patterns, not every dating relationship should or will turn into a boyfriend relationship. I definitely don’t expect every boy I date to become a boyfriend, and I don’t want every boy to be a boyfriend. Sure, maybe I’ve encountered one or two I might, but life doesn’t work that way – especially not for me. Ah well, maybe celibacy really is the right way.

Beyond that... the last little while in review.

Saturday, March 13 – went out with Big A and a few of his friends for Big A’s birthday. After dinner we took him over to the peeler’s and got him a lap dance. Okay, he wound up with something like four by the time he finally left, but I’ve always known/suspected that he’s a dirty, dirty pervert. :)

We moved to pervert’s row at one point – lining the stage along one side. It made me realize how demeaning that row is, in a sense – you no longer see the dancer’s face because of the awkward angle... it’s all about their bodies. It’s fairly odd, but then again, a lot of the dancers show basically no expression, or they look almost bored. Not that I’m sitting around with a grin on my face when I’m working, but then again, I’m not an entertainer.

Anyhow, Sunday was spent trying to sleep in in stages, while Thena did her best to wake me up. I wasn’t hungover, but I did go to bed fairly tipsy (and late), so it wasn’t a lot of fun being awoken five hours after I’d gone to bed. Damn cat.

The rest of the week was fairly uneventful; I saw Starsky & Hutch Monday with one LL boy – the first one to kiss me, actually. Good movie, entertaining date for various reasons. It amuses me to know that some moves have hung around, how’s that?

What else happened last week? Well, I joined OFK and a few other friends for a round of RPG-fun. A few inappropriate thoughts, I did some knitting (and screwed it up a bit), and passed out, to some apparently mocking. In my defense, I’d been working from 6:30 a.m. – 4 or 4:30 p.m. most of the week, and I didn’t have time for my nap on Friday after work.

Why not? Well, Thursday I got fed up with waiting for my landlord to show up with traps, so I picked up a humane trap and set it up myself. By Friday afternoon I’d caught two of the little buggers, so Big A helped me move them to a new location, and I bought him lunch as a repayment.

Saturday night I caught another, as well as Sunday night, and I moved them both out on Monday. Then Tuesday night I caught another bugger and finally moved him out last night (Thursday night). I was afraid he was dead, because he didn’t seem to want to leave the trap, but I think he just decided he was cozy or something. Stupid smelly buggers. (No mice since, and apparently the traps my landlord set in the apartment beneath me haven’t caught anything in a week or so... of course, my landlord was supposed to bring *me* traps, but so much for him being helpful to me, right?)

Of course, he wasn’t as smelly as the others – it seems that if there is more than one mouse in the trap, they hold pee fights. The single mouse was the only one who didn’t come out soggy. Instead, he seemed to have replaced the peanut butter with some weird red, snow-texture substance... I didn’t examine it too closely.

While I didn’t kill of any mice, I did manage to kill off a fish. I’m a horrible mom.

But, I finally managed to remember to buy a squirt bottle yesterday, so Thena is getting the “fsht!” whenever she bites me. Well, most times. She also gets the standard time out, although that might not be best. Water bottles all around!

She’s so evil and so cute at the same time. Damn cat! Stefan loved her, though – maybe he should have her.

And now for random stuff to make this entry even more ridiculously long.

Two Saturdays ago I went over and hung out with Mark (and sorta Ben) for a few hours. Mark and I played some Pacman Vs. and I handed his ass to him a few times. And mocked him thoroughly. :)

Of course, my mocking was rewarded by physical abuse, including having my nipple pinched (after I did the same first, I’ll confess) and the throwing of breakfast hams back and forth (thoughtfully provided by Ben). I seem to recall getting hit in the face by one. Mark is mean – take note.

Anyhow, I had to run after a bit to return home – minding the cat, showering and so on. I went out and had some nice Indian and saw Tommy, which...well, the acting was really good, and the music was good, but as far as lyrics go, I was pretty disappointed. They basically consisted of 2-3 lines per song, sung different ways over and over again. I’m no expert on musicals, but that got annoying really quickly.

Anyhow, good evening overall.

Earlier in the week, I’d gotten together with Mark for coffee (on St. Patrick’s Day, actually), and we talked a bunch. I admitted some feelings and so on that I hadn’t discussed earlier, and he did the same. It was nice, and I felt good afterwards.

We then met up with Ben and a few other people, including one guy who ‘helped’ Mark after our breakup. We had some snacks, then some dinner, and I’m sorry, but I really don’t think Pho is my thing.

Mark got charged extra to get his packaged up to go, and the guy seemed disappointed with me or something for not doing the same – exactly how is it a selling point for me to take this soup with me – that I’ve already paid for, no less – if you’re going to charge me another $0.50 to do it? I don’t know, yeah, it’s only $0.50, but it’s still a weird policy, and certainly a new one on me. Pizza places always have deals on their take-out orders, and there’s a lot more involved in making a pizza than there is in tap water, noodles and big hunks of meat. Bah.

Anyhow, what else? I had a note about arguments, but I haven’t a clue what I wanted to write. Lately I’ve been dealing with the crazy mental horniness, though. Physically, I’m find, but mentally I’ve been craving crazy monkey sex, full of roughness and biting and nails and crazy locations because of not wanting to wait, being pushed up against the wall, being restrained and teased and touched and thrust and gasp and moan and clench and squeeze and pull and suck and hard and wet and throb and just being out of my mind and totally into the experience...

Yeah. Rough sex is fun. Sex is fun. I miss sex. Although sometimes I find I miss the idea of sex more than the reality – the reality is where pain hurts and your leg cramps and sometimes there’s disappointment and you just don’t get the same rush or even orgasm as you do when you imagine it. But isn’t half the fun just coming up with these things and then seeing how you can carry it out?

Okay, so maybe I have different ways of killing time during meetings or classes than some. It’s the same as when I’m reminiscing on a recent (or past) sex “event”; it’s not the awkward learning times, or the “this doesn’t feel good, when will it?” or “he’s wanting me to come and I might be able to if he’d just do this/shut up” that I focus on, but the times when it’s great... gloss over the rough spots and focus on the hot ones.


And that’s all I’d written up to that point. Maybe more later.

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