Category Archives: relationship

Cheatskate. Cheating boys ain’t no good under my hood.

I haven’t been copmlex lady lately, so I am going to expose a conversation I had recently. A recent commenter wanted to know what to do with a cheat cheat cheater cgeat… who wants to say f off but wont.

My advice: Get out of the relationship if the person doesn’t know the letter after “e.”

She was searching for the “let me go down on you” experiment, it turns up that it doesn’t really work. Going down or even going downtown with someone doesn’t make them cheat on you.

She also stated that many people are tired of cleaning up his socks and cum. Many people? Sorry for you! If you don’t enjoy it, nobody will. Let him clean up the dirty work, especially if he is dirty. Dirty boys will never stay clean. Their hearts won’t be in it for you either. Put a bit of positivity in your life. Stand up for yourself and make the world a cleaner place.

Friends don’t mix

social interaction
interactionary involvement.

I am the universal anti-monger
surrounded by internal affairs,
conflicts of interpersonal environments,
where insecurities describe splits among people.

who we choose to be with should be an equal push-pull.
Fragility sometimes causes imbalance.
weights are self-handed to weak fingers.

when all of those you know divide
and get conquered, all you have
is yourself, to trust at your own discretion
To rebuild steps.

Hooking up unhooks

If a partner in a hook-up begins to care for the other, the desire for commitment may drive the other away. Reasons for embracing a hookup could be to (1) fulfill a sexual desire without responsibility, (2)
compromise emotional security to satisfy desire for intimacy, or (3) submitting to incompatible partners instead of seeking an enduring relationship.

The common ground found is that people are afraid of engaging on a deeper level. Why? They know it can be dangerous. They don’t want to break hearts. They don’t want to have a heart that breaks. They avoid the heart instead. Heartless acts are cold. So the intentions are more detrimental on a hidden level. I hope I am never selfish enough.

euphemism: grown out of love

It’s a paradox to kill love. Divorce doesn’t do anything. Death doesn’t nullify anything except a marriage certificate. Splitting up doesn’t set anyone free. Grown out of love? Is love some plantable life that can be destroyed? I’d like to think of it as an immortal plant. When it dries from lack of water, it just feels the hurt of dehydration, enduring the abandonment. Disregarded by the sun, it has nothing to see except itself… alone. No longer basking in the comforting warmth that is present everyday. But when the sun is part of your galaxy, you still know it is there when covered by clouds.

she couldn’t understand how you can just not love someone anymore

Communication. Is crucial for understanding. The question is not of love, but how complex intricate abstraction is intercepted between two people. Maybe ideas of hope were mistaken for love.

I love communication; although it falls short of expressing definitively unanimous thoughts, especially when the surface (the fundamental idea[s]) is the perimeter and there lies a voluminous mass of multi-dimension to be explored. It’s the fault of arbitrary division within a continuum. Language has no way of explaining itself outside its system, and to chunk things into categories destroys the nonlinear motives of the mind. Decay, decoy. Relay, recoil. Somehow we get by. Aristotelean methods are survivable.

Laying it on you easy with a euphemism contradictorily shows you are masking a deeper issue, which is harder on the euphem-ee.

I now ponder whether it is possible to love more than one person? But then I go into the communication problem of whether I understand what I say to myself. What is love? Sure, there are probably many varieties. I guess I love everybody. And I already knew that; Questions seem to be more understandable than answers. Why?

feelers, time, and breakups

Instead of antentae, humans got stuck with emotional feelers.

I have a lust and disgust for time. I need more of it, but I’d love to rid myself of it (not in a life-ending way, don’t worry!). My life now exponentially feels fuller and quicker. Time flies when you are having anything, not just fun… Time drags when you don’t think, or when you think of things you are not interested in. I haven’t felt so thoughtful in my entire life. Things are flying: through rain, snow, sleet, hail, fun, letdown, and opportunity.

I’ve lost a lover. He was a rare kind. Time ran me by and I got thrown off my feet. He ended commitments three months after discovering each other on a personal level. A short time, but an endless package of feelings and gatherings to replay for lifetimes. Companions are for life. Couples have breakups. I think I had both whether a couple of people constitute a couple, we up and broke our romance. We have companionship left over. That’s most important… I could use more ships full of company.

I am struck by his decision to hold back on “us.” If it’s a hiatus, things will straighten out together on its own. If it’s the ending punctuation mark on the sentence of love, then both of us must know that a piece of us and our experience will linger stiffened in the past, unchangeable, but retrievable. The ending period doesn’t stop anybody from reading what’s written before it. The authors can revise and append the story of love or they can leave the sentence abandoned- the orphan.

I feel like I have reasons for having feelings, rather than the isolated individual perspective of submersion in apathetic teeter of melancholy and euphoria.

disappointed but grateful
detached but realistic
blank but hopeful
fragmented but understanding
confused but content
empty but growing

I feel a physical manifestation of ambivalence.

when can I feel

I’d like to
have the capacity
to drive
myself
to you.

I
am just waiting
for the
when
to arrive.

Do we both
require
initiation
before reply?

When can I feel? When never comes, when becomes never, and never comes whenever. Arrows are thrown in a short upward thrusts, as to land where it was. I need to be informed. I am not information. I am looking to be looked upon. Honestly, honesty must spill itself in front of me. I have not dropped all of my belongings yet. Am I holding on to my honesty without showing it beyond my eyes. Candid spontaneity is when. I will start to tell untold information that could have been secrets.

rusted armor

I was out with some friends the other night to meet some people at a cafe (that is people of the opposite sex). Though I myself was disinterested in the prospect before we even arrived, the experience was rather amusing. We met these 3 vacant sex fiends; and the philosophical differences made for a rather awkward situation.. I couldn’t help but think with our idealism versus their pedestrian visceral logic that we were like 4 Don Quixotes…

smoke inhaled by naked lungs
cigarette ashtray hourglass
measured in incoherent intervals

four Don Quixotes fighting
windmills, those
fatalistic flowers
flowing helplessly in the wind

after tacking into which
they’ll come to a flat doldrum
and rest peacefully in the mirage

as sunlight reflects into the mind
things lose their distinction
and must be maintained,
by the absurdity of habit

willingly subjecting myself to genital herpes

The title of the post is the exact statement of a friend of mine. Once a virgin, twice a herpes magnet. I’m pretty (and very) conservative. I am a late bloomer, never doing anything dirty in high school.

Paraphrasing what my anonymous friend says:

Being sexually active involves willingly subjecting myself to genital herpes. I had no idea whether they were disease-free unless I had hard evidence. I had to trust that they were tested or inactive. I didn’t have anything to worry about myself. I’d say it ain’t worth it though. Sex isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, even with a whip. It’s fun for the 10 minutes it lasts. All my girlfriends faking almost all their orgasms proves my point.

Some people just enjoy diseases. Look at all the people ready and raring to plop man flesh in their mouth, or to slip into a hole full of s*#t. It’s very possible that these adventurous souls want to experience first-hand what it’s like. They are like scientists donating their bodies to science before their demise. I gotta give them credit. That’s a sacrifice to breakout in rash or any other atrocity for the good of all mankind… so determined.

The Flaming Lips never would have thought that I could link that song with venereal disease. Boo YAH!111!!! (ONES added for internet emphasis)

I met a guy (long ago)

Days come and go from all directions and this one hit the jackpot of all plane dives ending in an explosive debris. All I can remember is being quiet. We were both quiet and we stayed that way for a while. Everything was going so well and only got better. We walked on the path at the park and I was swept away. We did nothing, but it was the best feeling ever. Like sleep. I knew how nonsexual the atmosphere was and it was thrilling. We would last for a long time. I can still picture him walking as I saw him through my window on our first date. He had on a sweater and his hair was a little messy. This guy had it all: the looks, the brains, and the personality that hit the spot; until I found out he wasn’t the guy.

That was ages ago. His car has been breaking down, and we’ve been talking on the phone. I haven’t seen him for a while. He spent the day with me yesterday and neglected to ask me what was going on and was acting like a train wreck and I felt like cutting his tongue with scissors [only for a moment]. He was speeding and sliding out of the lanes when he took me home. And then he asked me to do heroin. That’s when I wanted to shoot pesticide into his arm. He wouldn’t let up and I wanted to go home. I wouldn’t mind not seeing him again.

Stuck Inside

I stayed curled up in a ball today. Internally I feel like nothing is resolving. Externally I have nothing to do. I’ve lost my appetite and I can’t think straight. I always try to think of what’s wrong with me. I’m not a hypochondriac but I know there is something short circuiting. (Normality doesn’t exist and that’s not what I’m striving for) I just want to be content. I can handle the unexpected. First I think I’m bipolar or something, then I think I am schizophrenic or psychotic to a mild degree. I want to have Alzheimer’s disease; maybe not. I’m already screwed up it seems to me. I’ve never done any drugs, but I don’t need drugs to make myself feel out of touch. My ex-boyfriend called today and tried to blame me for his cheating on me. This was a few months ago and I can’t stand that he brings it up because I wouldn’t “put out”. I’ve let go of it, but the fact that I persevere in thinking it only compounds the stress. Everything is unstable and I feel like letting the turmoil spill to the ground.