May 20th

Black sweatpants

Red waffle, long underwear type top

Short hair

Twin mattress on the floor

Drawer liners

Potpourri

Stereo

The eaves

Walking a few miles back and forth to the hospital for my yearly gyno appt. It rained on and off

Never showering that day

Running a fever and calling ask a nurse because I was scheduled for surgery the next morning

My roommate coming halfway up the stairs to tell me my ex was in the kitchen

She forgot to mention that one time he tried to break in and they decided not to tell me so I wouldn’t be worried

My roommate took a lot of pills every night. Could never wake her up once she was out and she be out 12-14 hours solid

Cigarettes in the kitchen

Feeling unattractive and too uncomfortable to have sex.

Nine Inch Nails playing in the background…. him mouthing “I want to fuck you like an animal” while raping me

Wishing Marianne would wake up and hear

Begging him not to come out of my room until after I left with my dad. I was afraid my dad would kill him if he knew what had just happened

Months of trying to put it behind me and telling no one

Meeting 2 girls at work who started talking about how glad they were I wasn’t dating him anymore because he was a rapist. One had been attacked after me

My fault

Making a statement with police

Getting a restraining order

Pressing charges

Victim witness assistant

Had to tell my parents

“Are you sure? Do you understand what the court system will do to you? What if there are other ways of dealing with it? My brothers and I could….”

It was my fault. I was taught to do the right thing and I didn’t so someone else got hurt

8 other women

But she has a record of seeing psychologists which means she’s crazy and can’t be credible

” we used a condom which means it was consensual. I threw it in the trash next to the bed”

We did not use a condom. We never did.

There was no trash beside the bed

She’s a writer. A creative writer. She took creative writing classes at UNH so don’t you know how to make up stories Ms. Dolan? You are trained to do so. You

Holes in the crotch of my sweatpants from being ripped at

Mr. And Mrs. Dolan you and I both know your daughter has mental problems and seeks attention. Can’t you get her to stop doing this to my son? I never even met his mother. Depression is a mood disorder, not a story spinner.

I am calling to warn you they let him out of prison on appeal. He is out now. Is there someplace safe you can go?

Westport with Sally and her mom for several days.

Private investigator following me ahead of the next trial. She was seen smoking butts on her balcony, maybe drinking beer too.

Will anyone ever want to date me someday? Can I be loved after this?

My father watched both trials.

My friends tried to convince him I was strong and someone he should be proud of, maybe ease up a bit on all the criticism

The evil smile. That song and cd I threw away. That first beat when it starts on the radio and the moment of terror compelling me to change it right away

Navy blue suit

Brown blazer with floral skirt

Beige suit

Grey suit

What did jail do to him? Did I really want that to happen to him or couldn’t he just stop raping people and not have to go to jail. I wasn’t looking to punish or hurt him. I just wanted him to stop hurting women

Becky

Big and little Jess

Marianne’s turn against me and lying in court because she still had to work with him and was mad at me for moving out.

Sven Weiberg

Chicken McNuggets

Rusty Hammer

Bethann and Rich

Nicole

Lots of cigarettes

She’s just lying because her parents don’t pay attention to her

Standing in a windy parking lot waiting for the 2nd judgment because I couldn’t look at him.

23 or 24 years ago

Seeing him on dating websites now despite having a live in girlfriend after being divorced from the wife he had at the 2nd trial. Knowing gd is out there still trying to lure them in.

At least I tried

And yes, I remember all of that a quarter of a century later

So cut me some slack today. All of that had come up today very close to the surface. Criticism of my approach is not supportive as I relive this … alone. No different from when it happened.

5 pm at work and my cube-mate told me to wrap it up because he knows I have been having anxiety all day. He was dealing with it too. I told him I was actually going to go straight to the gym to see if I could work it out. Then, the person in front of him told me not to drive south….there was a jumper and heavy police presence along my route.

For a moment I debated if I should just log onto the gym website and cancel but then I figured it was a “late cancel” regardless of whether or not I canceled at 5 or never got there and had to call and cancel from the road. It was too late for them to fill my spot either way. I figured I would at least hit the ladies room on my way out of the office and hope for the best.

Hope for the best. Can you believe that? Someone tried to kill him/herself (and likely succeeded) and I’m trying to figure out if I’ll be able to cut through it fast enough to get to the gym. I’m an empath. I’m mentally ill. Of all people, my pause should have been immediate.

By the time I got into my car, it did catch up with me what I would be driving through….the hopelessness someone must have felt…..how it seems like recent years have just been harder on all of us….the potential drug addiction….the potential lack of access to mental health care….the loved ones left behind getting ready to go home from work only to find police at the door. I braced myself for the impact. Suicide is the kryptonite of all the mentally ill no matter where we are in our journey….good or bad. We feel the hollow insides and brain cells peeking through rear view mirrors….even from strangers. We all know how it goes down.

Eerily, there was hardly any traffic, no police and no evidence that any news alert went out just 20 minutes before…kind of like driving through the end of the world as one of few survivors wondering where all the other people went. Whatever had happened within the hour had been passed through and evidence completely wiped away as though nothing actually happened.

The feeling of “and life goes on” as the cars passed through on our way to our gyms, supermarkets, day cares and homes was unsettling. It made me think of when someone famous kills themselves, Facebook becomes full of platitudes and suicide hotline phone numbers from people you never hear from day to day. They drop their status update and keep driving as though they saw nothing and still have important places to go.

Is that just a decoy for not actually giving enough of a shit to be present in people’s lives enough to notice something is wrong? Absolution from doing anything more than giving a mentally ill person a phone number. I mean, if someone is ill enough to think killing themselves is a good idea, do you really think they are of sound enough reason to ask for help? They’ve asked for it when they still could….many, many times in a plethora of ways. You just weren’t there to hear it.

Just like driving home and seeing no police, no ambulance, no EMTs, no evidence and getting to your appointment on time because the world outside your immediate perimeter isn’t your problem. Whose problem is it then?

For quite a few years there have been a couple songs that saunter through me and connect to words I don’t have. One of them is “What You Want” by John Butler Trio and now his new one above “Home.” There is also “My Life As A Wrestler” from Dear Leader. Sheila Divine plays it frequently as well (same lead singer.)

I love the earlier 2 songs so much but tell myself there ends up being a disconnect because while both are stories of being lost in multiple ways, they both have a connection at the end….a person they come home to after all is said and done. Someone who makes it hard for them to be who they are chasing their music because it lies in contrast to the home and family they must often leave behind to go on the road. That’s where my road diverges in that I can follow them all through these songs until they have love and home….

Something pulling them back. I don’t have those.

But watching the “Home” video made it all make sense. It’s a really beautiful video in how he conveys himself. All the loneliness you see reflecting from him alone at bars, diners, concert venues and hotels…..that’s how my life feels every day. But it’s a little bit inverse in that my life is still searching for home. My contrast is that I am living pretty authentically up to about 85% of who I am but nothing is pulling me back in. It’s more like I circle a dangerous vortex which reminds me I don’t connect to anything and if I am not careful, I could be swallowed by that. I think the feelings might be quite similar to what’s happening in the video, though. The looks he can convey in the video….dunking his head in water and pushing back his hair back in Australia, walking barefoot alone in the woods with his dog. The hotel scenes and the lighting behind him. All of that connects to me. If you could make sounds or video of how it feels to be lost, never ever having found your home….this song and video somehow do that for me.

Sharing the video is as close as I can get to explaining what it feels like to have no home, no connection, no person and feeling like my journey is a very long, dark walk in woods where I may never find my house or my people sitting around a fire. It’s really scary. I can be whoever I want and do whatever I want because no one needs me. No one is missing me. No one is questioning my priorities or looking for compromise. No one is telling me they hate my writing or love it….that they want to be on this journey with me. I am not worried about the happiness of someone else and if my behavior ever threatens to destroy that. No one ever needs to have a conversation with me face to face and better not on text.

It’s funny, the closest I ever actually feel to being whole is when I travel. Even then, I am doing it alone. Maybe I want my life to get in someone else’s way. Maybe I’m tired of having coffee alone at the counter, hanging out at concerts by myself listening to these amazing artists with no one to turn to when they start playing their best song, drinking beers alone at the bar until getting hit on by married men. Maybe I want someone to tell me they don’t want to vacation where I do and offer me a different suggestion….one that would be ok no matter what because it becomes about the company you are with. Or, if I do travel alone….I want to miss someone. I want to enjoy myself but feel like I have someone to get back home to. A reason to get off the plane.

I want home.

“Oh life, I’m chasing it but it’s not chasing me. Maybe it’s just these lofty goals. They’re always out of reach. Oh I suppose that I’m just tired but I’m still fighting.”

I went to a psychic medium tonight because it just can’t hurt. As I was getting ready to start booking yoga classes again, I found some great spiritual options being offered by the studio and bit the bullet by making the appointment 2 weeks ago. I just question where I’m going, what’s my purpose, am I lovable and do I really need to think about my plan for growing old and dying alone as I’m already in the 2nd half of my life. And, I actually do believe there are couple dead people who do visit me and look out for me. The evidence on John is actually pretty irrefutable if I were to start listing examples. I’m not freaked out by it but you would be.

Powerful shit came through in the cards. A very recent, strong period of hostility and deceit that carries a theme which has always wafted through my life….and were I to start believing in past lives (not sure yet) then I asked to be challenged in this life by treacherous things in order to learn how to rise above and work them out differently from past lives where I got it wrong. After about 40ish years, I am actually getting the hang of it.

John was there tonight but, apparently, so was Gam, my grandmother on my dad’s side. Any stories I share about her let you know she was not a nurturing woman by any means. She was quite outspoken and obstinate and, I believe, born in the wrong generation. Had she been a millennial, she’d never get married or have kids. She’d be career driven and quite fulfilled by that. So she isn’t the sweet brownie baking grandmother the rest of you have and I didn’t have some beautiful bond with her. I bonded with my alcoholic grandfather hooked up to an oxygen tank, never leaving his bedroom. When my parents asked my grandmother to take care of me after my knee surgery in high school, she left me in the house alone on painkillers and crutches while she sunbathed by our pool. I had to answer the phone and figure out a way to get up and feed myself.

When my father went to Vietnam, she sold his car and gave away his clothes figuring he wasn’t coming back. She was just being efficient. When I went to college and signed up for a coed dorm, she called it a lesbian dorm and insisted that meant the same thing as coed. She blamed my mother for allowing this disgrace to happen…. y mother poisoning the bloodline with her half Italian origins. Yet, had she been alive when my sister came out, I actually think she might have handled it just fine….in her way. She would have accepted it and also said offensive things without realizing she was being offensive and we would have just rolled with it. She started drinking highballs in Maine by 11am each day because as she said “I’m old enough to do what I want when I want.” When she went to rehab for recovery after her second bout with lung cancer she told my father not to visit unless he brought a bottle of Dewars and a steak. But, she went to church multiple times a week to pray for her grandchildren.

So you can understand why I may have been a little surprised she came through very strongly to the point the psychic actually imitated her exact posture. Not easy to do because it was related to her having a metal plate in her head from a tragic car accident. My family would recognize it in a heartbeat because the way she stood and entered a room was unique. On the other hand, when she started inserting herself into the conversation, it began to make a lot more sense. For instance, I was just telling someone the car selling story the other day when it dawned on me the first time it wasn’t an act of malice or lack of heart. It was her way of protecting her heart and getting shit done so she could compartmentalize the process of losing her son (even though it didn’t happen….physically.). It was the first time I actually empathized with her and realized where I inherited a similar behavior. The crazier things get, the more dire the situation, the calmer and more planful I am….to the point of being able to completely shut off my feelings. Interesting to have only made that connection 3 weeks ago and for her to push her way through all my dead people cos she had a long list of shit to cover with me.

First, she acknowledged that I have lived an entire life of not truly ever being nurtured, pampered or prioritized and that I deserve those things. She didn’t have those things either. She pointed out the little girl who follows me everywhere I go is actually me…my damage started there by her son and she’s not happy about that. As a result, that little kid is someone I build very big barriers around to protect at all times. She wants me to unload the barriers while understanding I am not and have not ever been surrounded by the right people (in this case, men. I think she knows I have pretty amazing friends.). She just doesn’t really know how I can do it since the men really aren’t out for my best interests and I haven’t been wrong about that. That said, I still haven’t really found my community, my “people” and that I think too differently from most people. Despite how much I put out there, there’s a lot I hold back because my community may not embrace all my feelings and beliefs. Apparently, I need to pursue them anyway.

And yes, the job….I’m forcing myself to fit into a mold because it makes sense to the world, to to me….it’s what my parents did so unto me is delivered the same hell. And when I experience “crazy” ideas like I did today when I thought about what it would take to just grab my purse, walk out and go the airport, I’m not supposed to talk myself out of it with dog, family, mortgage. I’m supposed to imagine myself in that place and let myself feel what I think I would feel were I there and, supposedly, the world will direct the resources I need to work around these obstacles because that’s my little spirit team talking to me. I’m supposed to listen to them.

I’m also “advanced.” Gam made that loud and clear. Advanced in the sense that I have the strength and self awareness to battle problems at a faster clip than the average person. Extremely true. Also, psychic ability is very present. If I’m telling the honest truth, can’t refute that based on a lifetime of creepy examples. You just tell me I am crazy and overreacting so I tend not to share most of it with anyone anymore. But let’s put it this way, based on a dream I had the other night, I am absolutely going to the doctor to have some tests done. Something undiagnosed is happening and needs urgent attention. I know it in my bones and I’m not going to downplay myself as paranoid this time. After all, when was the last time you thought I was paranoid and what I said didn’t happen? You can’t come up with anything, can you? Creepy, isn’t it?

At the end of all this, the psychic apologized that the man didn’t speak. If you knew John….few words on a good day. Someone like my grandmother would steamroll him and his politeness would make him completely defer to her. Plus, I think his staunch Catholicism might make it hard for him to participate in something like this. Talking to me In dreams is more his speed. Yet, because I asked him to be there, he would never let me down.

So, yes….this entire post sounds like the rantings of a complete lunatic. Perhaps lunatics are my people and I need to seek them out to find the community where I belong. But here’s the thing, whether you buy into any of this or not doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what pieces of it I buy into or not. What I did get is validation of an unnurtured, unprioritized life. That is basic fact. It has completely fucked me up. People want, want, want from me with no regard for my needs. Fact. Just spend a day responding to dating websites for me. This is why I have gotten to the point I eat so fast I am forgetting to chew my food and blocking my own esophagus. ” I can see you are eating but can I ask you a question?” Oh, you think you’re the only one to do that and it’s a one off? Um… no. Or how about the times I almost faint at work because I have gone too long without eating or going to the bathroom? That happens at least once a week.

I have gotten reinforcement that I am insanely strong but I do have resources I need to reach out to for helpa d I need to ask. Work in progress on that. Too used to being let down and my grandmother said tonight….”why let someone else do what you can do better yourself?” She gets it. She also told the psychic to stop dumbing down the messages, that I get it and am not freaked out, “just tell it straight.”Also, that I am evolved to a higher plane spiritually and empathically. Knew that but it’s always interesting to see someone else pick up on it so fast. And, I need a meaningful change and people don’t believe in the life I believe in. Fact. I spend a lot of time trying to explain my vision of love and happiness to others who insist it doesn’t exist. Well, guess I’ll die trying because it’s truer to who I am than giving up on it which isn’t in my DNA. I do have supportive friends but I think the point is I need to be in daily situations where the majority of people around me are of similar capacity. The load balance is currently a bit off. I also do need to make a change even if others disagree with it. Those “others” have way more check marks in their life indicating happiness and fulfillment than I do so there’s no comparison between me and you and my needs against what you think I need. We’re just different. You found your general happiness and purpose earlier on. I haven’t found mine yet.

And if my grandmother really did come through, that’s pretty rad for a devout Irish Catholic. Who knows? Could have been my mom’s Mom I never knew or my great aunt Betty. They were all pretty strong women who took zero shit from men way ahead of their time and if they were looking down on my life in relation to theirs….. very, very angry and disappointed at the complete lack of evolution of men. Totally sickened tonight by the men I have experienced my whole life. That was visceral. Probably why I have such evolved parents who raised children without traditional gender rules ingrained in us. We were 3 resourceful, strong, smart, hard working kids due equal opportunities. Not 1 boy and 2 girls- the girls learning to sew and cook aimed at marriage to get by. Nope. Marriage wasn’t a priority assigned to any of us. Independence, integrity and self sustainment was all we were taught.

So I have a lot to think about and absorb. But I needed this no matter how outlandish it appears. Not like anything has worked yet.

He was never a man of words, he was a man of touch

Love was something you watched for in his movements, his politeness

….in a look….the way he held your face after you cried because it rarely happened…even then

I am both a giver of words and lover of touch….I love in both and sometimes the more love I feel, the fewer words I have…

I loved him naked in the kitchen trying to eat a poorly cooked brownie of hockey puck texture….I laughed because I loved

Smelling all my body lotions when he thought I wasn’t looking

The way my cheeks would redden ….a fever, a fire for him

You don’t always know you are with the love of your life when you are with him

You were living 3 lives, disconnected from one another….him, your rape from the guy before him with the same name and the depression you know you had but were afraid to admit. He was living at least 2 of his own.

Even then I was an empath. His body moved a certain way, a different look that lasted only a second and I knew….I told him I knew something was off

He showed up later that night….I was now and she was then. Then came back and wanted my now, he didn’t know what to do but he couldn’t be with me if then was here.

Yet he insisted on taking you to one last dinner. You don’t know why you accept. You know it’s going to be grueling to sit across from those eyes, that dimpled chin you are no longer allowed to touch. And where is she?

You put on your burgundy velvet dress because it hits the right curves in the right places, covers everything but the cleavage….make him acknowledge what he’s missing

So much emotion, you see the love. You feel the love but you aren’t allowed to keep it. You still don’t know he’s the love of your life….even then

…..but he is.

He advances to touch you….you actually vomit from the upset, the stress, the loss of a love you know you are looking straight into. It’s not like it’s not there. She fucking confused him even though she wasn’t at all confused when she left him. But now that you are there, she wants to come back and she wins. She won several times, actually….even now.

You do this for 3 more years. Alternating between me and her and a few others thrown in. You vomit a few more times he touches you along the way. You make him walk the dog because you can’t get off the floor. You humiliate yourself for him. You love him. You are the one who understands every point, every piece. He crashes into your body because yours is the one that’s home to him. He could never hide that. Yours is the one who really hears him, sees him for the complicated, nasty mess he is. You are the one he never had to hide himself from.

He was the love of your life but you didn’t know it then. You didn’t know who you were then. He thought he knew you but he didn’t really….I was compartmentalizing myself even then. You see what I let you see because I am stronger than you. That part he knew and that’s where he found home so many times he lost his compass

All these years later, the love has morphed to something different. He’s your compass now and he knows you better than you know yourself. He has words now….not many but enough to keep you breathing.

You don’t know when the love of your life became one of your closest friends or when you started looking for another love of your life….if there even is one. But he’s steering you through it just enough to remind you of where you might find home when you are lost. And you get lost a lot more often now than he ever did.

Isn’t that a saying somewhere? Yesterday, on Facebook, it posted a memory of the photo I shared on 8/29/14 which was to celebrate my nephew’s first birthday. Just 5 days prior to that I became his godmother at his christening. That day 4 years ago was also the day I made one of my worst possible decisions. Actually, to be fair, I had made the same bad decision on several occasions prior to 8/29. 8/29 was just the day I got caught. I believe that night and ensuing days were the lowest point of my life. And that’s saying something because all those poor decisions were in response to what I already thought had been the worst day of my life.

I was recently told that I seem to always be holding something back. Odd thing to say for someone who blogs and facebooks ALOT. But he was definitely picking up on something very real and true. He was able to describe it as something along the lines of working very hard to prove how strong I am….so much so that I am keeping things to myself and not opening up fully.

Yep. That’s actually dead on. You see, my loved ones have to worry about me a lot. I have depression so people automatically assume that means you I am always one bad day away from killing myself. Once or twice but not always. Then, I survived a bombing so having PTSD was a public thing I couldn’t hide. Therefore, everyone assumes I am one trigger away from erratic or violent behavior. Not necessarily violent, but yes, a little harder to control my reactions in scenarios challenging my control or revealing my complete lack of it. I followed that with some binge drinking. Am I an alcoholic? Not really. But my grandparents and uncle were so it’s assumed I am. I certainly did more binge drinking 4 and 5 years ago. Now, it only happens on a night when I know I don’t have to drive. I let loose because I can. But it’s not often at all. Even still, every beer I drink I feel like someone is watching me and taking mental notes.

To explain why he was picking up on this vibe I had to tell him about how I work very hard to display that I am ok no matter what….even when I’m not. I hate the idea of anyone worrying about me and it embarrasses me to think people are “going there” in their heads or in conversations behind my back because they think the worst is about to happen. In fairness, I completely understand why they think that way and why they worry. It’s the exaggerations of mental illness they see on tv and movies mixed in with a little reckless behavior I have truly acted out.

Sometimes there really is nothing to worry about. Believe it or not, I’m quite a happy drinker. Even when I was doing it to numb my anxiety and survivor’s guilt, I was able to elevate my mood to fun and light the more I drank. I was able to escape my pain to some extent. It wasn’t like I had my head on the bar, crying and talking about dead people. When I got caught that happened, but never until then.

My depression is medicated. I see a doctor every 2 weeks. I have bad days like everyone else but I tend to also pull out of them. Regardless of all my mental illnesses, I am predisposed to problem solving by nature so I can’t even do the typical cartoon depiction of depression where you see someone who can’t get out of bed. I can get out of bed and still be very depressed. I am just high functioning and power through it by over scheduling myself to stay busy until it passes.

But there are times people should worry, I guess. I don’t really know when and I will never ever tell you because your worry actually escalates my anxiety. It’s what has drawn me to the life and death of Anthony Bourdain. I cling to every article I read, every episode of every show. I am looking for the signs and wondering what people missed. Could anyone have known? And if they couldn’t have, what does that mean for me knowing I am never immune from having a split from reality like that? Like fat people worry about heart attacks, I worry my brain will turn against me even on medication. It has before. And I didn’t tell you.

Granted, I watch Bourdain and see it very, very, very clearly. At first I wonder how his loved ones missed it. But then I remember, he probably made them miss it….same way I do when I am holding back. I know the tumult in my mind but I don’t want to worry anyone. I want to suffer in silence and I want to resolve it in silence. For him, he probably had resolved to killing himself days before he actually did it. They say when people do that they are actually appearing incredibly peaceful and, to others, in better spirits than usual. That’s because they have made a decision and that’s what has brought them calm. Not an actual resolution in their mental health. They also say people who talk more openly about suicidal thoughts and the complications of mental illness do stand a better chance of survival. So I do that sparsely…mostly with the shrink. But do I also have Bourdain capabilities? The answer to that frightens me.

So yes. I work especially hard to convince you I am much stronger and more resolute sometimes than I am so that you can relax. It also helps manage my anxiety….something else which happens right in front of you which you don’t see. You have been trained to look for hysterics and the need to breathe in a paper bag. Sometimes I struggle to breath but it sounds like my asthma. Other than that, I can be sitting in front of you watching tv or in a meeting while my heart rate is on the rise and my brain is cycling excessive thoughts while my stomach registers doom. That is an anxiety attack and you don’t know about it at all. My last one lasted over 48 hours and no one noticed.

I am always holding back. You just don’t know because you think I am an exhibitionist putting so much on display via social media. There is SO much you don’t hear or see because I don’t want to worry you and because I know, in all honesty, I can never promise you I will always be ok. That’s an “unknowable” for me and everyone with mental illness….just like you can’t guarantee you won’t have another heart attack once you’ve had one. You can eat healthy and exercise….show everyone you have changed your lifestyle but that really guarantees nothing. It just helps everyone worry a little less.

Upon my nephews’s 5th birthday, I like to celebrate that I am 4 years separated from the worst night of my life. But that’s naive. There is no guarantee it or something like it wouldn’t happen again. I can’t control what that addled mess inside my skull decides to do with its errant neurotransmitters and broken synapses which trap serotonin and norepinephrine ( yep, both chemicals are busted in me) and prevent them from cycling through properly. And I can’t change that I either don’t want to tell you about it or I can’t mentally recognize it on my own to know to tell you about it. That’s why all those posts telling people like us to ask for help are selfishly ignorant. You know as well as I do I can’t ask for help when my brain turns inside out. You just sleep better thinking you have done your part. But you actually have to have the balls to help me and do it in such a way where I don’t feel shamed. Not an easy task at all. But I know 2 people who have been able to do it for me which gives me a little hope. They don’t look at me as fragile every day. They just have their eyes open enough to recognize the very precise and rare moments I am straddling the edge on tip toes.

….the phrase which made me single again.

Finally back to my doctor today. He and I take concurrent vacations in August so I go without a safety net that month. This just wasn’t the best August for that. Thank almighty God my bff isn’t mad at me and checked in when he did….literally right after my last convo with Matt. I was in a bad place and this guy friend has now saved my life twice.

I gave the doc the play by play of my PTown weekend and subsequent demise of a potential relationship. When I told him what I said he actually validated it by citing psychological studies and examples proving I am right. Not necessarily in a rape way but just that they aren’t going to stop you to mention you might be offering something up too soon.

He also said he thinks I struck a nerve on something in his past he is ashamed of…some boundary he may have crossed and got called out on. Whatever it was, the doc felt there is a very deep problem inside this guy I couldn’t have predicted.

I can’t stop beating myself up for being fooled by him or the fact I still am unlovable. Those are facts. But given time and the exchange we had last Thursday night, I understand Matt to be an emotionally cold and punishing kind of person. He knows the words and motions but they have nothing behind them. There is a need for control, a need to one up and a need to be sure you know you are beneath him.

We had an unfortunate exchange where we were both texting so fast that when I told him to enjoy his Buddhist karma, he thought it was in response to a terrible family tragedy he had just shared. I only meant it in terms of the upcoming list of bitches he’d be dating in his non monogamy pursuit. Before I could clarify that, I got punished by being told I crossed the line and would now be blocked. I don’t care about that but for him to think my intent was something else means he didn’t understand me at all.

I still call bullshit on his Buddhism and feminism. He can’t be either based on his behavior, response to being called out as a man and the way he handled the weekend getaway.

So it does help to get the professional perspective in that I was dealing with an incredibly bizarre, cold and narcissistic person. Even still…if I can’t make one of those loved me, who will?

Thanks, Aretha. I am borrowing your song title today. Peace.

I don’t think it’s a secret I feel like I should have the same rights as guys and that includes my approach to dating. For instance, I make clear indications in my profiles that I am looking for a relationship but that sex is a very important part of it for me. I want that known up front because it’s my way of setting expectations. If you know you can’t keep up, you know to swipe left on me. If you are a bit inexperienced, you know to swipe left. If you know you aren’t interested in a relationship, swipe left. It’s pretty easy. But I know people are reading this thinking I am being to forward and open. No I am not. Guys put all their cards on the table so I do too. And, I’m not going to go 6 months deep into a relationship tolerating bad sex I hoped would get better and didn’t. That’s where bad marriages start. I am old. “Ain’t nobody got time for that.”

So don’t shame me. Some of you wish you had held out like me.

What annoys me is the guys who message me anyway just to proposition for sex despite there being an entire paragraph preceding it explaining what I need before I am giving up the goods….the really good stuff. I’ll give you mediocre if you are half assing it with me. I’ll give you level b and c when I have what I want. Simple.

So why do they ignore and disregard what’s important to me and try to entice me into something else? First of all, it doesn’t work that way for me. I need to actually know someone or be Vegas drunk or it be 5 years ago. Unfortunately for all optimists, I am in Tyngsboro. No more Vegas. Therefore, I’m a relationship first and only girl now. Why do they disrespect that? What do they think they are offering which would turn me away from my convictions? Is that how little they think of women? We say one thing but mean another? That’s rape culture, my friends. It’s not cute. It’s not charisma.

I deal with this several times a week. No. I am not changing my approach because of it. I am not a demure girl. I am not going to start playing one at 44 just because you think I should. Those same guys would approach me but pretend they are interested in a relationship, get laid and then bail. My approach actually drives honest conversations…for the most part. It at least gives me a little more control and choice with how to proceed. I just don’t respond to them. But it doesn’t mean I am not offended.

Why do you do this guys? Is it a control thing? You want to “break” me? You want to be the one exception to my rule? You disrespect women? You think we are in a foreign street market where I am just throwing out the first price and we are going to negotiate it down? And believe me, with the conversations I have responded to, they do actually try and negotiate with me.

At the end of the day guys, you can have all the non-monogamous sex you want but you aren’t getting 100% of any woman that way. I would argue that in the confines of a loving relationship where there is trust and commitment you are far more likely to get to a deeper level and get the level b and c sex. If you think relationships inhibit that, you married the wrong girl without figuring this stuff out in the beginning. You chose to settle. You tainted your own experiences and your desire for “free love” will only get you so far. If you want it all, you have to give me what I want. There is no bartering. If I’m missing out then so are you. Plus, you don’t become more attractive when messaging me and disregarding everything else about me. You become as attractive to me as poop on a shoe.

I’m looking for the higher level guy. Or does he just not exist? If not, I guess I will just stay single. I’m not settling for less than I want or getting talked into what really, truly actually smells a little “Rapey.”

Seriously? Once again I have to deal with how much he tried to care about me and just couldn’t. I am just so hard to be around apparently.

I did what I needed to do and burned the bridge so that I can’t see what he’s doing and ensured there is no chance he will ever try to speak to me. All my exes are familiar with this approach. I do or say something so revolting there is no room for forgiveness.

I told him to enjoy his Buddhist Karma among one or 2 other things.

I have to set fire to these things and burn any possibility of warmth or reconciliation. It’s the only way I know and my shrink will scold me for it, perhaps. We have worked very hard on my scorched approach to things. It’s just the only thing I know how to do to kill off my empathy.

If only he knew where I was when I lit the match and threw it.

Know that I am not missing this guy. That’s not what is happening here. It’s what he made me feel about myself that I am sorting through. I can’t dig out from it.