Kidnapping A Cub

What do you do when you find yourself accidentally, on purpose dating a cub? You panic! And think this CANNOT be happening.

What the hell are you thinking!?

But seriously, a 6 year age difference and he is the cub. Everything in your past is screaming at you that this is a TERRIBLE idea. And you know it and it’s going well but you are just waiting in the moment for shit to go bottoms up.

Advertisements

Just My Luck Dude

Girl meets boy. Boy meets girl. Both hit it off. Have a fantastic date. Moving forward to more dates, bumping uglies, and making future plans.

Then boy stops abruptly speaking to girl. Girl thinks it’s her. It’s always her. It always happens to her.

Attempts to communicate, to find an answer go unanswered. It’s always her.

Pain seeps out. Hurt. Anger. Sadness. Zero self worth. It’s always her.

Girl wakes up one day and says, “Fuck the world.” It’s not her.

Boy misses out on a great catch. A smart, beautiful, talented, hard working woman. It’s not her.

Girl focuses on her career because her career will never leave her. Boy will.

Girl, it’s just your luck dude.

Snapshot

It was this incredibly great moment of pure bliss. Surrounded by floating feathers, bouncing like small children on the bed without a care in the world. Odd to think that the series of actions that led to this delightful pause was anything but care free. Perhaps careless, but not care free. Amazing how chaos can lead to clarity.

What began as a simple outing to the theater, quickly dissolved into violence, understanding and revelations.

We were having an evening of relaxation and progress in our ever evolving championship. We were seated and the show began right on time. We were building through the storyline, the plot was thickening. Suddenly, as if part of the production, people swarmed in, orders were given to the audience. I thought, “Wow. What a great directorial call. Literally encompassing the audience, making them the action.” But the immediate change in his body language told me otherwise. It was very subtle, but I noticed it. I notice everything about him. I could see he was making a plan, attempting to conceal us. To protect, escape and evade.

Then he moved with the swiftness that told me this was not his first rodeo. I knew the seriousness of the situation before he even spoke. He never had to utter a word. His look was communication enough. It was all there in a brief glancing moment: “Never take your eyes off me. Do not speak. Do as you’re told.” Done. I never questioned a thing.

I ran. I moved. I followed with absolute precision. Crouched against the wall I could feel his back pressing me there. I dared not make a move or a peep.

We dropped to the floor. Ran along the row of seats. A blur of velvet red. There were screams. People dashing and some frozen in fear.

“Pop. Pop. Pop.” The rhythmic gunfire accented the frenzy.

It was the longest three minutes of my life. Like Simon says: green light, RED LIGHT!

Through the rows. Up the aisles.

RUSH.

A flood of air whipped through my lungs.Cold floor. Lobby. Shit. Pounding. Elevator!

We made it. I breathed if only for a moment. Here I was in a dinky elevator with him and that ridiculously corny elevator music. Only in the movies I thought.

I look at him–us. Standing side by side. He was a million miles from me. Lost in some expansive thought that was multiplying like white mice.

Simplicity was our thing. I held his hand. Closed my eyes and repeated, “Come back to me.” I let it fill me up. Slowly, until I was beaming inside. Then there he was. He was with me in that moment in that dinky little vertical moving box.

Ding!

Damn. Moment was gone but it was a snap shot. Imprinted on my brain forever. I was so wrapped up in my Polaroid that I failed to realize we were rushing out into some unfamiliar underground garage. This wasn’t the way we came in. I looked. Then I really saw. Holy shit! What a collection of cars! The black on black ’10 vet, the hot red ’69 white rag top mustang, the ice white ’12 Audi R8 spyder. In love——

Snap back into it Nelson.

He was ripping through a room. 30 seconds later he appeared with a leather jacket. I took it without question. He disappeared again to the darkness of the garage.

Weird. Never thought I’d be standing in a garage in high heels, jeans and a borrowed leather jacket surrounded by the most breath taking cars.

VROOM!

Snapshot.

Click. Click. That’s my package of hotness on a bike. Lord kill me now. Only this happens in the movies.

Without hesitation that rumbling beast stopped six inches from me. You don’t have to tell me twice to ride. I’m on and we’re off!  Fierce. Powerful. Cutting through the night at a blur of fury. I was at home with this moment. Raw with this man. We–I–had no direction but he knew where this path lead. Up a winding cavern road. Climbing away from the city lights. I was so lost in my thoughts that never noticed the monstrous house rising up from the skyline. The glass and curves. The way it blended with the earth. An architect’s dream. Truly devine.

The rumble was gone. We where stopped. I dismounted and wondered aimlessly up the front walk. Truly overwhelming. He lightly touched my back. A thousand miles away.

I followed him into the house but he was gone. In his own world. I felt so out of place. My silence was interrupted by an describable sound of manly frustration.

Uh oh.

I rushed to find him. He was destroying something. Violating the innocence of an object. I rounded the corner to witness a grown ass man ripping apart feather pillows. A manly man surrounded by delicate lightness. Oh the irony. He never faultered. He continued to dominate.

Slowly coming back to me. He realized his absurdness. His body language began to alter as if perplexed. Embarrassed by the site. He turned to face me.

I moved across the room until I was six inches from him. What to do? What to do?

I did the most natural thing that came to me. I looked deep into his sea blue eyes with every bit of my soul. I let my hands wander to his face. I leaned in and kissed him with every ounce of my being. I knew in that moment that I loved him for exactly who he was. He knew it. I knew it. There were no words to be spoken; no questions to be answered.

Snapshot.

It was a carefully considered moment that was devoured by reality when I threw those feathers in the air and giggled like it was my first love.

So Kesha

Can you imagine what your life would be like if you lived in a Kesha song?

Wake up feeling like ass with last night’s make up on and its the middle of the afternoon. Shower briefly. Throw on your day old half ripped tank, a pair of hot shorts and combat boots. Rock out with some what the fuck ever hair and some legit black eyeliner.

Blast some songs on volume 100. Dance like a fool. Grab drinks where you can get them. Guys want to be with you and you mind fuck them. Love them and leave them. Rage.

Fall in bed at the end of the night. Think momentarily about how out of control your life is. How you need to get your shit together. How you loved that one.

But who gives a fuck. You’re life is fucking awesome.

Think of the world and gre….zzzzzzzzz

Wake up and do it again.

Animals.

Wedding vs. Marriage

After reading the article below, I had a moment of revelation. I saw the light. The light bulb was burning bright in my head. This is Goose.

http://www.cnn.com/2011/11/01/living/wedding-marriage-splits/index.html

Background: Goose and I have been friends since high school. I’m not really sure why but we are somehow still friends. Goose is and always has been insane when it comes to men. I’ve never known her to be without a men for more than a week. Typically she doesn’t leave one man until she has another lined up. She is truly one of those women who cannot live without a man.

Throughout most of our high school years she dated one guy. One of those on-again, off-again things. Mostly on though. She was totally engrossed with him. He was all she could see. After we graduated she continued on with her relationship. She broke up with him for about a year at one point. But never fear they got back together.

In June of 2010 they got married and planned their happily ever after.

Modern Day: She filed for divorce about a year after she got married. I was shocked. Honestly floored. We discussed some of the issues they were having, and she did keep a great deal to herself. I assume (not having been in the situation) that there are just things that she knows but never wants to say aloud.

I asked her at one point if she knew on her wedding day that she didn’t want to get married. She said yes. I asked her why she did then. She replied with “Because I was doing what everyone else wanted me to do.”

I don’t get it. How can you get married and know that you really didn’t want to? Again, floored but this information.

But never fear, there are more surprises in store. She cheated on her husband. An emotional affair with just a kiss, but nonetheless cheating. She is still with the guy. She’s a hopeless romantic honestly. They’ve been together for 4 months. I see both good and bad in the relationship. He encourages her alot to write, develop her music, dance, expand her mind. Again, all positive things, which I’m very grateful for.

But here’s the kicker. He’s still married (in the process of divorce) and has a child. (Wait for it) And they are discussing marriage! 

Again, insane!  I really am trying to be supportive but things like this make me never ever ever want to get married. It’s scary as hell.

I also worry that she is going to jump into something and later realize it was a horrible idea. One divorce was hard enough. Two would nearly kill her. Not to mention the fact that the whole idea of marriage has been completely defiled.

Marriage is like a new game. It’s just for sport and I don’t want to play because the rules are too damn crazy!

Wayward Of The Great Big Highway

So Clapper and I dated for give or take 6 months, officially and unofficially. We had a wonderful relationship of convinence. We fell into a stay over relationship. I went to his place to stay but only after 9PM and to sleep, maybe have sex but even that only happened twice / three times? We went out to the bar sometimes. Me with my friends. Him with his. Never together. We never ate together. No real dates. No friend / family introductions. It was, again, a relationship of convinence.

We enjoyed spending time with each other but as far as connecting, getting close, forging meaningful connections…totally not happening. We lived in the moment with no plans or intentions for the future.

But there was a problem. I let myself care. I allowed myself to let my guard down (at the encouragement of many). And it was going well until he decided to move to Michigan. 3 weeks later he was gone and little did I know it but so was “us”. Slowly he forgot about me. He didn’t miss me. Or if he did, he didn’t care enough to tell me. Communication was sub par at best and despite my clear expression of how this needed to improve in order for “us” to make it, communication stopped. After 2 weeks I considered our relationship expired and gone wayward of the great big highway, much like he physically did.

I started to think: Honestly, I’m numb as they come at the moment. I don’t want to even make an effort with men. Why should I? I’m used up. I’m clearly only an object of sexually attraction or momentary fulfillment. I don’t have the care to pursue a relationship. I’m too single. I’m too free. I’m too me to be a part of anyone else. It’ll always be just me. I honestly believe I’ll never get married and no babies either. 

Oddly enough, upon making this declaration to myself. I start noticing men knocking at my door. I’ve had one begin to actively pursue me with daily communication. I had another announce that he would do the work to get me. Both of which have flabbergasted me. And neither of which I’m going to bend over backwards for.

Apparently acting like you don’t give a fuck anymore attracts men in droves.

Sunshine

Day 07: Someone who has made your life worth living for.

John Denver says it best:

“Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy. Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry. Sunshine on the water looks so lovely. Sunshine almost always makes me high.”

Sunshine is one of many that make my life worth living for. We are like two peas in a pod and have been since we were born. We are only 5 days apart in ages and are basically twins. I can feel how she feels, without ever being there. I know her like the back of my hand, as does she to I. My existence depends on her existence and I honestly can’t image life without her and I never want to. My soul is a part of hers.

We come as a packaged deal. We travel together. Date together. Eat together. Even naked tan together. Every major decision I make, like moving or a job, is dependent on her. I think about moving away. I could do it, but you can bet your sweet ass I’d be on the phone with her every single day. Even when I broke the news to her that I could be moving up to 8 hours away, her only response was, “Man, that’s a long ways to drive. I’m going to need a room.”

She makes my life worth living because she is my ray of sunshine. She brings me up when I’m down, and calms me down when I’m losing my mind. She knows my darkest secrets, seen me at my lowest of lows, and my highest of highs. We have cried over death, and rejoiced over chances given. She is my rock and my soul and I would die without her.