How You Doin’ Blondie?


Whore Redux

Today; “Search Engine Terms: define whore”.

Really?

It was vaguely amusing, now it’s just mildly insulting.

…Oh and honey? If you’re concerned enough to research the formal definition, you’ve probably already been immortalized by Joe Francis.



Running Errands Is Depressing

I was walking out of the grocery store parking lot today, and this woman with a thick Scandinavian accent and an SUV full of family stopped and asked me for directions to a store on Rt. 70. I knew exactly where she wanted to go, and I knew exactly how to get her there, but I was concerned that she’d get turned around in this murderous Yankee traffic. I didn’t have anywhere to be, so I told her that I was going by where she wanted to go, and she could just follow me if she wanted to.

As we were pulling up to her destination, she pulled up along the right side of my car and thanked me profusely for my kindness. I told her she was very welcome and as she pulled away everyone was waving and smiling, sincerely grateful for my help. It made me feel genuinely happy that I was able to help someone, even if it was with something small like directions to a shopping center.  In that fleeting instant, as the woman pulled away to make her turn while I remained stopped at the light, I felt like maybe everything isn’t as dire as I make it out to be. Maybe I’m capable of leading a normal life, maybe I could start over somewhere as Suzie Homemaker who bakes cookies for the neighbors and gives good directions to out-of-towners.

So I’m stopped at the red-light, and I’m thinking all of these things and watching the woman’s tail lights disappear through my lowered passenger side window, and I’m in an almost happy place. Then a shiny, big, Ford F-150 pulls up beside me carrying a cab-full of construction workers. I usually avoid eye contact in these types of situations, but I wasn’t on guard, and I accidentally locked eyes with the driver.

In an instant, every little daydream I’d been having about cute pink aprons and two car garages, his and her sinks and a loving, lasting marriage; evaporated. Every last one. Gone.

I looked into the eyes of that driver, and the eyes of his passengers, and I saw lust, greed, and hunger. And then I remembered who I am, what I do, and how lonely I am. I remembered that men don’t see me as mother, or someone that they could introduce to their mother, but as an object. An object of lust, greed, and hunger. Those 3 things have given me so, so much, but they’ve taken even more away.

It’s a bitch, grocery shopping.



The Irony Abounds

Sometimes I find the search engine queries that return my blog to be entertaining; “it’s only gay if balls touch”, “fuck you like I’m never going to see you again”, “you got a body like a devil”, “I’m untamed, I need a leash”, and one of my personal favorites “define whore.”

Today, a new winner: “liking and having sex with guys”. 

The two are not mutually exclusive, oh ponderous pilgrim. 



Once Upon A Time, There Lived A Princess
March 16, 2008, 10:56 pm
Filed under: Life, love, Men, random musings, Reflections, relationships, sex, thoughts | Tags: , , , ,

I’m sorry, what I meant to say is: a minor drawback to having sex for a living is that you develop (in a startling brief amount of time) a powerful resentment towards men. You lose your whimsical giggle to a harsh snarl. You lose your fucking soul to the brand new Mercedes you just bought yourself. Bitter? Oh, just a little.

 Where’s Prince Charming? I waited for him, I did. I sat in my tower, braiding my hair, dreaming of a better life. Every so often I’d think I saw him, riding by on his noble steed, and I’d tell myself that he just winked at me, just sent me the silent message that he’ll be back for me later. But he never came, and I got fucking tired of waiting.

And you know what? My Mercedes SL55 AMG with 400 horsepower fucks Prince Charming’s one noble steed in the ass.

But even the hardest, most jaded girls wish they had someone to hold them at night.



A Minor Drawback To Having Sex For A Living…
March 16, 2008, 10:32 pm
Filed under: dating, Life, love, lust, Men, Reflections, relationships, sex, thoughts | Tags: , , , , , ,

If I answer a call from an unfamiliar number one more time to hear a breathy male voice say “Hi Suzie, how are YOU doing?” I just might scream. Or become a lesbian. Men are pigs, every last one of them. Nice guys? Fuck that. I used to be a nice girl, and you know what happened to me? Nice guys. Nice guys with soft voices and big hearts who said all the right things.

Fuck Men.



Question: Tell me what you think about this

After it’s all said and done, I’ve used them as much as they’ve used me.



Life Choices in A Minor…Take It Away, Elton

When I started out on my own, I never experienced that pivotal “fork in the road” moment that so many people talk about. Never really had to make any big do-or-die commitment. There was just an exception here, an aquiescence there, and now here I am. Tricky bastard, indifference.

Goodbye Norma Jean
Though I never knew you at all
You had the grace to hold yourself
While those around you crawled
They crawled out of the woodwork
And they whispered into your brain
They set you on the treadmill
And they made you change your name

And it seems to me you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in
And I would have liked to have known you
But I was just a kid
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did

Loneliness was tough
The toughest role you ever played
Hollywood created a superstar
And pain was the price you paid
Even when you died
Oh the press still hounded you
All the papers had to say
Was that Marilyn was found in the nude

Goodbye Norma Jean
From the young man in the 22nd row
Who sees you as something as more than sexual
More than just our Marilyn Monroe
 

 

 



We All Live In A Yellow Submarine

I suspect that unemployment played a significant role in the creation of this music video…BUT, be that as it may;

the music is genuis. Take a bow Paul & John.



Oh, How I Wish He Was Here
December 9, 2007, 1:55 pm
Filed under: Life, love, Music, relationships, thoughts | Tags: , , , , , , , ,

So, so you think you can tell, Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain?

Can you tell a green field, from a cold steel rail?

A smile from a veil?

Do you think you can tell?

And did they get you to trade, your heroes for ghosts?

Hot ashes for trees?

Hot air for a cool breeze?

Cold comfort for change?

And did you exchange, a walk on part in a war for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.

We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.

Running over the same old ground.

What have we found?

The same old fears.

Wish you were here.



You Got To Make That Money, Honey.

Another little fun discovery: the phrase  “assholes ‘men relationships’ ” returns my blog.

Why would you enter those words, in that order, into a search engine? What are you hoping to discover? That you’re not alone? That there are other women who think that the men they are engaged in relationships with believe their partners are assholes too?

Honey, that’s a given.

What you should have entered, instead of “assholes ‘men relationships'”, is “assholes ‘gifts he gives'”. Because all men are assholes, and all men know it. So it’s not about whether or not your man is an ass, it’s whether or not you make him pay for it. If he crushes your soul on a weekly basis and you’re not walking away with a minimum of 10,000 a month in un-taxable income, that relationship just isn’t working, sweetheart.



Ill-equipped to Act, Indeed
November 19, 2007, 11:26 am
Filed under: Life, Music, Reflections, relationships, thoughts | Tags: , , , , , ,

It’s funny that a free on-line forum has done more for me in the area of introspection than almost a decade of expensive, time-consuming therapy.

Living on a lighted stage
Approaches the unreal
For those who think and feel
In touch with some reality
Beyond the gilded cage

Cast in this unlikely role
Ill-equipped to act
With insufficient tact
One must put up barriers
To keep oneself intact

Living in the limelight
The universal dream
For those who wish to seem
Those who wish to be
Must put aside the alienation
Get on with the fascination
The real relation
The underlying theme

Living in a fish eye lens
Caught in the camera eye
I have no heart to lie
I can’t pretend a stranger
Is a long-awaited friend

All the world’s indeed a stage
And we are merely players
Performers and portrayers
Each another’s audience
Outside the gilded cage.

 



verb; it’s what you do
November 18, 2007, 2:02 am
Filed under: Life, love, relationships, sex, thoughts | Tags: , , , ,

rape verb 1. destroy and strip of its possessions. 

I couldn’t figure out why I cried all the way home, didn’t understand why I drove myself to the Emergency Room (but couldn’t bring  myself to get out of the car). Thought it was strange that I texted my closest friend and told her I’d made a big mistake, that I’d done things I didn’t want to do. Thought it even stranger that I looked up what to do in the event that one engages in unprotected, non-consensual sex.

Then I realized, he raped me. I just couldn’t bring myself to admit it. I always talk about how I enjoy being objectified and degraded, but now I think I was confusing terms. I enjoy being desired and lusted after, but I don’t enjoy being forced and hurt.

He made me bleed, cry, and doubt myself. Now I feel scared, violated, AND

truly degraded.

Guess I got what I always wanted.



That Train Is Never Late
November 14, 2007, 5:01 pm
Filed under: Electra Complex, Life, Psychoanlysis, Reflections, relationships, thoughts | Tags: , , , ,

Today he led me back to his office and when we were settled, he leaned towards me and said very somberly, “We have to talk.” He told me that he’s come to the realization that there’s nothing he can do for me. He said professionally, medically, ethically; he knows there’s something wrong, something he should weed out and fix. But personally, when he analyzes me on a purely human to human level, he doesn’t see much point or probability in change. He told me that, quite simply, he just go to me too late. He said that I know I make unhealthy decisions, and that what throws him is that I know why I make them too. He said I really do his job for him, and he said that it’s for that reason that I had probably already drawn the conclusion he was about to make. He said I was more then welcome to continue with our sessions, but he couldn’t let me go on unless he was sure I knew it was an exercise in futility.

His seriousness was so charming, I didn’t tell him he’s just another notch on my belt.



define: being a whore
November 12, 2007, 1:05 am
Filed under: Life, love, random musings, sex, thoughts | Tags: , , , ,

I found today that one of the search engine terms that returns my blog is “being a whore”.

I find this amusing.



If Only My Hand Could Buy Me Nice Things, I’d Give Up Men
October 30, 2007, 9:32 pm
Filed under: dating, games, Life, love, lust, Men, neighbor, Reflections, relationships, sex, thoughts | Tags: , , , , , , , ,

We ran into each other today, he was running errands on his lunch break and I was heading to class. He stopped and made small talk, asked me if I was going to be selling my car because he saw me taking pictures of it yesterday. Then he said he had a meeting in an hour and really had to get going so he could finish running those errands. That’s what he did do, now here’s what he didn’t do:

He did not ask me out on date.

And the rest of my day was directly affected by it, EVEN AFTER I swore I wouldn’t care. Even as I type this, I’m still upset that I’ve been rejected/dismissed [again] and embarrassed that I keep opening myself up for it. I’m also a little disappointed in myself, because I think the reason he doesn’t want to get involved is because of the type of girl I appear to be. He’s very concerned with his son’s well-being, and I’ve come to the conclusion that he doesn’t want his son to hear people talking about that bimbo on Daddy’s arm.

I’ve come to this conclusion by process of elimination really, because I know that his failure to make a move isn’t that he isn’t attracted to me; that one night we went out together, he definitely tagged second base. He was also very quickly sliding into third but the only thing that got off was my shirt and my bra, and since dry sex doesn’t count, he officially only got to second base.

So I know he’s physically attracted to me. But I don’t think he expects or wants a connection beyond that. To his credit, he tried very hard not to seem incredulous when the conversation turned to my education, but I still felt the disbelief. He seemed uncomfortable talking with me about anything other than my experiences as a cheerleader.

But you know what the biggest red flag should’ve been? While were cuddling on the couch, he said that we were going to have to be “discreet” because he was very concerned with what his son might find out about. I immediately sat up and started putting my shirt back on while saying “Oh, so you’re only looking for a fuck buddy?” And there was a beat of silence, not a big beat, but a beat nonetheless, before he said “No, no, not at all,” and then started talking about how he really wanted to get to know me better.

With any other guy, I would have seen all the warning signs and ended things before they even started, but not with him. He wasn’t arrogant or cocksure, he even admitted to being surprised that I was interested in him at all [which was incredibly flattering], I thought he was different from all the others. I thought I had a shot at a relationship that didn’t involve a Sugar Daddy.

Guess not.



This Time I Mean It
October 29, 2007, 4:11 pm
Filed under: dating, games, Life, love, Men, relationships, thoughts | Tags: , , , , , ,

I’ve decided I’m not going to approach him after all. I’m tired of laying the groundwork; creating the perfect set-ups for him to ask me out and then feeling horribly let down when he doesn’t. If he’s really that shy, he needs to grow a pair; if he’s really that dense, we wouldn’t have lasted long anyway. He’s got my phone number, my address, and my obvious interest; the ball is in his court.



Damn That Beach In Greece

Sometimes I can hear a song so clearly in my head that I can actually hear the artist taking a breath on the downbeat. When I found myself staring at S. washing his car and began to feel that familiar, pathetic, need to have a man’s attention, I imagined this song queuing up in the background.

One Two Three Four
Tell me that you love me more
Sleepless long nights
That is what my youth was for

Old teenage hopes are alive at your door
Left you with nothing but they want some more

Oh, you’re changing your heart
Oh, You know who you are

Sweetheart bitterheart now I can tell you apart
Cosy and cold, put the horse before the cart

Those teenage hopes who have tears in their eyes
Too scared to own up to one little lie

Oh, you’re changing your heart
Oh, you know who you are

One, two, three, four, five, six, nine, or ten
Money can’t buy you back the love that you had then
One, two, three, four, five, six, nine, or ten
Money can’t buy you back the love that you had then

Oh, you’re changing your heart
Oh, you know who you are
Oh, you’re changing your heart
Oh, you know who you are
Oh, who you are

For the teenage boys
They’re breaking your heart
For the teenage boys
They’re breaking your heart



Sweetheart, Bitterheart, Now I Can Tell You Apart
October 27, 2007, 1:49 pm
Filed under: Life, love, Men, relationships, sex, thoughts | Tags: , , , , , , , ,

I remember sunbathing on the beach once, and the man I was with casually remarked that when he was a teenager, he never, in his wildest dreams could have imagined that he would ever be this successful. I remember making some vague comment in agreement and then rolling over onto my stomach. He then launched into this windy narrative about his long climb to the top [they always do] and I remember my mind wandering back to my teenage vision of the future. I remember my ultimate goal was to become a teacher, specifically so I could be home at a reasonable hour to have dinner on the table when my husband came home; and so that I could have 3 months off in the summer to spend with my 4 beautiful sons. It wasn’t until that moment, on that beach in Greece, that I realized that I had officially abandoned that idea.

I remember I became depressed at how delusional I was, how hopelessly naive my teenage dreams had been. I remember feeling so incredibly sad that I couldn’t physically move. I remember being a little scared at how suddenly the emotions came and how deeply affected I was by them. I knew my reaction to a simple little observation was irrational, but I just couldn’t shake the sheer and inexpressible sadness I felt. But I kept a sunny front and after a few days I was able to pretty much forget about it; eventually I was able to dismiss the incident altogether as too much sun and too much sangria.

But the other day I was organizing my receipts from my appointments with Dr. J, and I realized that I started seeing him about three weeks after I returned from that vacation to the beach.

So I’ve come to the conclusion that on that beach in Greece, I inadvertently discovered something. I think that it was at that moment, on that beach in Greece, that I first realized there was just something wrong, something big and looming that was just wrong,  just seriously, fundamentally wrong.