The In Between

Dear you,

I wanted to believe, so I deceived myself. I can’t be angry at you. I mean, I should have learned the first time I discovered how dishonest you can be. Fool me once, and all…

I was hurting, though. I was terribly hurt, you see. And to believe you meant to alleviate the pain. Until you were dishonest again. Fool me twice…

I think the complete detachment was all it really took this time. To see myself as I really am…The In Between. The momentary distraction that turns to a nuisance when the shiny baubles come along and hold your interest. I’m not shiny enough or interesting enough or maybe not even pretty enough. I don’t know which it is. I just know that I’m good enough for a time, then instead of honesty, there’s simply the feeling of being in the way again.

You can’t pick me back up again like a discarded toy when the shiny baubles become tarnished. I won’t let you. I don’t like living in The In Between. I’m so much more than The In Between could ever offer me. I get that you don’t see that. I know, and it’s okay. But, you see, when you use me to pass the time before tossing me to the side to chase something new only to run right back once your chase bores you, you treat me like less than nothing. I am just the girl in The In Between. That’s making me a shadow of a real girl. That’s saying I only matter because no one else currently matters more.

I thought for sure I mattered simply because YOU mattered to ME. Such foolish naivete. But it’s so easy to just drop me to the side without the slightest explanation. And it’s so easy to look annoyed and bored and anxious to escape because you’ve never seemed to have the willpower or upfront nature to say, “Hey, you know, I’d really rather not…”

I deserve more than that. If it can’t come from you, then it will (and often does) come from elsewhere. The only anger I have felt over this came recently, and it was simply because of the dishonesty. No, really, if I’m being honest, there was that moment where I was so angry that you just can’t see the value of me as a viable human. I know this to be so because we treat those we see value in with a certain level of respect and courtesy and honesty and tenderness. None of which is forthcoming from you when the light hits something that sparkles off in the distance.

Then the anger was redirected at myself. I mean, there’s that saying. When people show you who they are, believe them. But I chose to deceive myself. I chose to do this to myself.

So I’m moving forward with the knowledge that the next time we enter The In Between, I won’t serve the same purpose. I know that I see my own value and treat myself with enough respect for the both of us, and that will have to suffice. Because I just won’t be a shadow girl who helps you pass the time ever again. I’d rather not, thanks.

And I know I mean it when I don’t wonder for one second if you’ll miss that role I played someday. Because, quite frankly, it no longer matters if you do or not. It no longer matters at all.

I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a dragon. And dragons don’t need saving, they figure out how to save themselves. Just in case you wondered….

Sincerely,

That Girl

Behold, Your Queen of Awkward Moments!

The Vaping Viking ordered me a new box, and as I sat in his shop, who should walk in? None other than the devastatingly boring dude I went on a date with a couple months ago. So I reacted in the obvious way. I burst into laughter at the shock on the boring dude’s face and then began laughing even harder when I saw the confusion on the Vaping Viking’s unshaven mug. The next obvious reaction was to take a picture once they began conducting business.

It wasn’t the best picture of the Vaping Viking, but I had everyone’s full attention after I realized the shutter noise on my camera was on which alerted them all to my picture taking shenanigans. The guy in the Jersey gave me another look then told his father he’d wait in the car for him.

Slightly awkward. Slightly funny. Slightly par for the course on a regular ol’ day in my life.

Then I made plans with Jinx. Here I will highlight the good to come out of my dating adventures online. Jinx, that tatted up nerd, is just one chill dude. We haven’t hung out since going to the movies about a month ago, so we’ve made plans to change that. He makes me laugh, and he proves that not every guy on a dating app is a big, stinky poopie-head. I have faith there are decent men in the world simply because of the ones that are my friends. That’s really the only thing that has kept me from becoming a militant feminazi instead of a non-combative feminist.

See? Just loads of goofiness and giggles.

I’ve been extremely happy with my decision to not date. It feels like this immense pressure has disappeared…poof!!! …and I can focus on the important stuff in life. It’s freeing and removes all the cumbersome trappings from my life. I mean, unless you count bills and the fact someone let my children know I’m supposed to feed them every day.

In other news, I’ve begun my fall term, and I’m relatively certain the world is ending soon. Otherwise, there’s no logical reason to explain why I could possibly be the star pupil in a mathematics classroom. No reason at all. I’m done with cardio, and weight lifting, and watching what I eat. There’s obviously not much time left.

Life continues day after day no matter what breakthroughs and setbacks and accomplishments and boring-boring-boring events take place. It just keeps going, and when you realize that, your stress levels diminish tenfold. I don’t have to worry, the world will keep on spinning. I mean…until the aliens come back. They’re gonna be pissed to see what we’ve become.

Should I Stay, Or Should I go?

James, the cute boy who owns a vape lounge, invited me back over last night to his bachelor pad which he has already talked about being his own private sanctum that he doesn’t like invaded. By the way, he’s going to be known in this blog as the Vaping Viking from this point forward since his Nordic features are all I can really focus on.

He told me to wear my pajamas, so I did.

We watched the A-Team…

That’s the best picture I could get because by the time I took it, well…Ugh, I’m jumping ahead of myself. Let’s start from the beginning.

I came over. I parked in an unfamiliar area. I walked over to his house where he was waiting outside to meet me. We headed upstairs where he had A-Team queued up. I knew as we were snuggling up that it didn’t matter that I specifically put on my ugly panties reserved for the times I’m trying to ensure no one in the world will be getting my pants off…I had probably made a bad choice in coming to his house knowing full well it wasn’t just to watch tv. I haven’t had sex in nine months. I think he’s sexy as all get out with his Nordic features and flowing, long hair…like Fabio with a better nose.

So we were giggling and talking and his hand was suddenly on my leg. He was watching my reactions, and I was becoming more flustered because he was watching me so closely with an open intensity. We continued talking, he discovered I’m ticklish, I discovered he’s just as ticklish,and we were tickling and laughing and wrestling around quite a bit, and before I knew it, I was tucked so closely into him that I couldn’t really tell where he ended and I began.

Then he was kissing me. I must admit, that was one amazing kiss. And it was followed by another, and another, and another, and hands were all over the place and clothes were kinda being tossed wherever all willy nilly, and then I remembered that I couldn’t have sex yet, so I stopped him.

“Wait! We can’t have sex tonight!”

He pulled back and looked slightly disappointed but recovered quickly like a gentleman. He was okay with it and didn’t try to push me further!

“I mean, it isn’t you, and it isn’t me. It’s my vagina. You can’t put your penis inside it because it’s already full of tampon!”

Then he’s laughing, and I’m laughing, and then there’s kissing and touching and a reminder that you can do a whole lot of stuff without actual penetration. And so we did. A lot. Several times. For hours.

Then he asked me to spend the night. Just. Like. That. And I did.

He doesn’t bring girls home. He hasn’t had sex in two years out of pure choice because he had other focuses and girls in York County are…well…not really all they’re cracked up to be…and so I know he’s not this horn-dog that was simply trying to boink me and send me home. Because while we had fun, we didn’t boink. He brought me into his home and played and teased and joked and kissed me like he wanted to devour every ounce of my being. Then he wanted me beside him all night.

This morning, he made coffee, and I fell back asleep, and then I woke up as he was just about to leave for a meeting. I grabbed my shoes and threw them on real quick, and he walked me down the street to my car. I was half asleep and a little miffed that he didn’t wake me up in time to have more coffee and get my bearings. It didn’t dawn on me until my drive home that he hadn’t planned on me leaving yet. He had his meeting and was coming right back home where he had hoped I would still be. I verified through a text. I was the girl who runs out first thing in the morning. He’s the guy that wanted me to stay.

When we got to my car, he pulled this off the windshield:

I had to pretty much grab it out of his hand…he was insisting on paying it for me. And yes, those are Hello Kitty pajamas. Don’t judge me.

He opened my car door, hugged me close, handed me a vaping juice he had mixed just for me before leaving his shop yesterday. He closed the door behind me, and he watched me drive away. And we’ve been texting all morning since I got home.

I don’t spend the night. It’s been a long time since I’ve spent the night beside someone. I don’t know what I was thinking or why I wanted to sleep beside him and wake up more than once to find him also awake and covering me back up under the blankets that I kept kicking off. I don’t know why it was so nice or why I wasn’t scared. I’m always scared when it becomes that intimate. And let’s face it, there’s not much else that’s more intimate than sleeping in the arms of someone…fully trusting that while unconscious, they won’t murder you. Or worse…look at the messages and pictures in your phone…

I know it isn’t forever with the Vaping Viking. He’s selling his shop and leaving PA within the year. And I don’t have those “OMGAWDS” kind of feelings, either. I mostly just have the “I like him enough, and I like how I don’t feel pressured, and he’s pretty, and I forgot what it was like to sleep in the arms of another all night…to have someone make me coffee and walk me to my car and kiss me like he has waited his whole life to kiss someone like that” kind of feelings. I don’t know if that’s wrong, either…to be so intimate when it’s such an indefinite thing. Or is this really embracing the moment and one of those living for now come-what-may experiences that I sought after to begin with?

I asked myself if I should stay or go, and I stayed. And I’m pretty sure I’ll be doing it again…

Someone Has Been Writing Articles About Me Again

I needed to read this today, my friends. Because this was written to speak to my heart directly and to rekindle something inside me that has been dormant for a good while now. This right here is everything I needed to remember.

To my sweet wild woman, I know why it hasn’t worked out with anyone else—you don’t need a man, but a goddamn warrior.

You are the strength of Turkish coffee at sunrise darlin’ and don’t try to pretend that you’re not.

You are one of the wild ones, and no matter how you tried to hide that fact, you can’t be anything other than what you are—and that’s okay. You are just as you are supposed to be, magnificently wild in all of your chaotic beauty.

I know you’ve had your heart broken and I know that you don’t understand why it always seems to never work out, but I’ve finally figured it out:

You don’t need a man, you need a goddamn warrior.

It doesn’t matter if this warrior drives a Jeep or a shiny sports car, and it won’t matter if he wears silk or cotton—it will not even matter if he works in a high-rise, or on the night shift.

What is going to matter is that when it comes to taking bets on your heart, he is going to be high stakes—all the way.

This warrior of yours will crave your strength, and your intensity. He’s going to look at you and not see something to tame, but something to just fuckin’ admire. This warrior of yours won’t be someone that you can manipulate or play with as you have in the past, so honey, don’t even try—and trust me, you’re going to love him even more because of it.

Because you aren’t just a woman, you’re a goddamn goddess.

Your fierceness is going to bring him to his knees every single time he looks into your gorgeous eyes, but the difference is, unlike the others, he isn’t going to be scared off. No, this time, you will have finally met your match—because a simple man for you just won’t do.

You need someone to match the fire in your eyes with his own. Not only that, my little wild thing, but this warrior of yours is going to want to encourage the flames instead of trying to douse them with his own insecurities.

Because for you, a warrior is the only man who will ever live in the wild with you.

He may not have to slay any dragons to earn your love, but he would still walk through fire if it meant seeing that amazing smile that you hold in reserve for only him.

This is the thing, free spirit, this warrior you seek….he’s seeking you too.

For he’s had failed relationships that have left him wondering if maybe he was meant to be alone for the rest of his journey—and you’re going to change all of that for him. You both have been travelling along on your separate journeys and have been doing an okay job at it, but that about to change too.

Because baby, when you and this warrior of yours meet and collide—it’s going to be a love set on fire.

Don’t try to run this time—I know your heart has been broken before, and that you’re not used to things working out, but this time it’s different. Give yourself time to see that.

This warrior of yours needs to see that it’s possible for someone to see all of his wild, and still be there when he craves his freedom and ventures off into this world for a bit. You won’t always need to follow him, just as he won’t always follow you. Let yourself stay wild, even when all you want to do is curl up in that spot along his side and forget the rest of the world exists.

Let yourself still wander naked under the full moon, and drink moonshine with the stars. Let yourself feel the pull of the wind on your heart, and the sun toward a new journey. Because this warrior is going to love you because of your wild—and he’ll want you to keep it.

You’ll be in this together now, this amazing, crazy, chaotic, wonderfully heartbreaking life—because it takes a warrior to love a goddess. And it takes a goddess to show a warrior what real love is.

So pack up your insecurities and your ideas about picket fences, because that was never you anyway. You were born knowing that you were destined for more, and now is the time for you to see what all those dreams look like.

There is no stopping a love like this, so promise me you’ll hold out just a little bit longer.

Have a little bit of hope, and always give love just one more try, because I promise you my sweet wild woman—the love that you seek is seeking you as well.

Original Post:Elephant Journal

She Deserves It

Once upon a time, my friends teased me. I was the freakshow, you see. I was the girl who always found a reason to walk away from suitors pursuing me because there was some fatal flaw I just couldn’t accept. My friends considered me the girl with the commitment issues of a boy, and I truly began believing that. I thought for sure there was something wrong with me because my standards were considered ridiculously high.

Then today I read a blog by Elizabeth which you can read here: What I’m Waiting For, and I highly recommend you do. The girl touches on some thought provoking stuff. This blog reminded me that it’s okay to be “picky” because it’s okay to demand our worth. It’s okay to recognize what we bring to the table and demand that we aren’t dining alone.

So one day a knight on a unicorn came riding in and did all the right things and said all the right words, and I was smitten. Just. Like. That. And it proved that I am not a commitment-phobe. I am merely a girl who has standards that truly CAN be met, just not by every Tom, Dick, And Harry that comes along. Isn’t that the way it is supposed to be?

Once he left for new adventures as knights often do, I began to question my standards all over again. Perhaps, I’m too old to believe in Fairytales. Perhaps, I have ridiculous standards as they’ve all said time and time again, and I need to lower those to have any possible chance of finding someone before my crazy cat lady starter kit arrives.

So I began my serial dating adventure. I lowered my standards ON PURPOSE so I could actually go out on dates and not become jaded and to keep my wounds from festering. Why the hell would I do that??

I’ve been handing out coupons for the sake of having someone to spend time with on a Saturday night.

I’ve had a lot of misadventures in serial dating. I’ve almost scrapped dating altogether because of the things I’ve encountered. But I allowed those things to happen because I placed myself on the bargain rack. I am not a clearance item. I am a full-priced, behind the glass, highly valued item. And it’s time I begin acting like it. My serial dating adventures are over. My ad was deleted once again by another Nancy-boy who felt the need to mess with me in some way, and I let it go. I didn’t upload it again in defiance. The universe is speaking to me through these little pansy asses, and it’s time I listen.

I. AM. WORTH. IT. PERIOD.

I am intelligent and devoted, caring and warm, loyal and devoted, cute and bubbly, well dressed and attentive to keeping myself up, forgiving and kind. And there’s more. I have great hair, great eyes, great bewbs. I have a tremendous sense of humor and don’t find myself rattled often. I have a perverse sense of humor and laugh often. I’m logical, and analytical, and capable of not clinging. I am independent and strong. I am the LeeAnnimal. The LeeAnnimal goes rawwwwr!

It’s time to demand again. It’s time to believe in myself again. More importantly, it’s time to believe in others again and give chances.

So The Experiment is over. I am no longer settling for what that brings me. I am ready to continue in a more mature, self sufficient way that leaves me open for someone to come out of left field and leave me gobsmacked. Could I be hurt again? Yes, I probably will be at some point. Could I have a damn difficult time locating someone who just gets me on all levels? Hell, yes, I will. It’s not a simple thing to find those who mesh in every way possible. But it’s possible. I think. And if it’s not, that doesn’t mean I need to settle just to have a night out. I am capable of providing for myself, therefore, I don’t need to worry about who will be sitting across from me at dinner.

It feels really fantabulous to be back. Watch out boys, she knows what she wants. And more importantly…she knows she deserves it.

Butthurt

In the past twenty-four hours, my ad on Craig’s List has been flagged and removed THREE TIMES by guys who have been rejected by me. Because little boys throw tantrums when they can’t get a new toy to play with and eventually break. I’ve been trolled, demeaned, sent pee pee pics, asked to play with married men even though the ad specifies no no no, and ranted and raved against. Pretty much par for the course for women who are bold enough to post an ad online for dating purposes. The nerve of me!

But I’ve also found more than one (so far) gentleman who acts with respect and curiosity and flirtation. A few conversations have begun, and we’ll see where I end up.

I have a message, however, for the butthurt little boys of the world who can’t accept when a woman says no to them. You know who you are. You’re the guys in a bar insisting on talking to a woman no matter how kindly she tries to get you to leave her alone. You’re the online stalkers who become angry when she won’t come around. You’re the guys who get mad when a woman complains she can’t find a nice guy because YOU’RE a nice guy, and obviously being kind is the ONLY qualification a gal wants and not a connection or chemistry or intellectual stimulation. Nope…you’re nice to us, that’s all that matters. So if we don’t find ourselves attracted to you, well then, we DON’T really want a nice guy, we only want assholes, and women are horrible creatures who don’t know what they want or a good thing when they see it.

Oh, you poor, misguided, dim-witted fuck faces.

People are not possessions. They can’t control whom they are attracted to, only whom they act on their urges with. If I say no, there are literally BILLIONS of other women to try your luck with. You don’t have to stalk me, harass me, belittle me, attack me, or flag my fucking ad because I don’t want to be with you. You could try growing the fuck up and getting your undies out of a bunch and moving onto the next person who might show you an interest.

I’m posting my ad. Again. For the fourth time. Knowing fully well some butthurt little shit who probably hasn’t even had his balls drop yet will come along and waaaah waaaah waaaaaah and flag me when I feel we are not compatible. Because, little bitches of the world, I find it annoying that I have to deal with you, but I’ve got my eyes on the prize. So there.

Go ahead and try me, little boy. Seriously.

In other news, I’m making headway in getting past Relationship Mr. Yesterday to make full room for Friendship Mr. Yesterday. I went onto OkCupid and looked at his dating profile one last time. The way we originally met. I could hear it in his voice this time. Then I read back through our original messages…when he charmed mah pantaloons right off. Then I blocked him. I can’t see him there ever again. He can’t see me there ever again. And it was incredibly symbolic to me. I went back to the beginning, looked at it in a new, clear light, and began erasing it. I am nothing if not determined.

So there you have it. There’s a fire lit inside me, and I’m letting it all burn. You should totally bring some marshmallows.