Brace yourself as it’s about to get fucking raw today. I’ve written about not wanting to die alone, but I’ve never broach the subject of loneliness before. To be honest, I didn’t really start feeling this loneliness shit until this year. I’m pretty sure that it has something to do with my age (early 30’s) or the fact that I’m single. I’m a loner, to the point that I sometime have to force myself to be social. I always thought I was above being lonely. I mean, can a loner ever feel lonely if they choose to be alone? Could I be confusing loneliness for lack of intimacy?
I wasn’t trying to sound ominous with this title, in fact this is probably the best title I could use to describe my life at the present moment. That sinking feeling that I get every time I open my planner and see the never ending list of shit I have to do. When will it ever end? I don’t have a problem saying no until it comes to things that I want to achieve. I keep telling myself that I need to do all these things but I’m often wrong. Is there a way to do everything that you wanna do and not get engulfed by the anxiety of doing it all? It feels like every deadline is right fucking now. If this sounds like I’m whining, you are correct, but where else can I do that??
*Illustration by Brad Amorosino*
I’m fortunate enough to know several, strongly opinionated women, some of whom identify as feminists and some who don’t. But the one thing that they all have in common, is the mere fact that they all believe that women everywhere should have the right to do whatever they want and that right certainly extends to their vaginas. This might be a feminist rant or it might be enjoyable commentary on what sexual liberation means to the modern woman, or it just might be bullshit. Either way, you’re gonna hear my thoughts. Some of which will make sense, and the rest just might be filler (yeah, I know…but in my defense, writing ain’t easy). We’ve all seen the “Hoe is life” hashtag everywhere in the last few years. Women are living their best hoe life while yelling from the rooftops that it’s no longer a man’s prerogative to fuck everything that breathes. I know part of this statement might be a reductive way to describe men, but this isn’t a space centered around them so FUCK’EM! But what does sexual liberation actually mean? How did we get from marital virgin to hoe is life in 3 generations?
There are 3 things that I know about myself: I am extremely stubborn, I make jokes about absolutely everything (Just ask my dead grandmother…relax, she honestly doesn’t mind) and I can easily become obsessed with something I truly like. And I’m talking like a decade-long fixation and not a passing fad. Can you guess what my latest compulsion is?? Swiping on a particular, popular dating app, and not just any ole’ swiping. Swiping left is the new petty. I’ve gotten to a point where I don’t even read the profiles and look at the rest of their pictures, I just fucking swipe. I obviously I have specific rules for swiping like if there’s a cat in the first picture I see of you, you are dismissed. If there’s a big ass fish being hung from some sort of line, you are dismissed. If your first picture is of you in a group of 20 deep, you are dismissed. I’m addicted to the rush of mass rejection. What is it about rejection that makes us feel (well, those of us that are dead inside…) so goddamn powerful. And before you shake your head in disbelief, ask yourself why the whole world is on so many dating apps…
I’ve neglected you. I don’t call, I don’t write but I’m back, just like that asshole you gave your number to 4 months ago. These last few months have been busy, amazing and scary all at once. I’ve changed. Kind of a big statement to make but this time off has shown me who I can be and what I’m made of. I’ve been resistant to my own evolution for a while now. And although there has been some growth in the last 3 years, it’s mostly been stagnant because of fear. I’m not one made or built for change, I know how that sounds and yes I am aware that one can live without constant change. But what scares me is the lack of control when those changes come into effect. I’m so scared of how change will affect me that I don’t always realize that it’s necessary. But it’s like I’m seeing many things and people for the first time ( I swear, I wanna slap myself for this cult-like sentence…). What happens when you finally realize that you’re the reason you’re unhappy? How can such a small revelation fuck your entire life up?
A wise woman once said “Age ain’t nothing but a number”. True, age doesn’t necessarily define maturity. You can’t help but be attracted to who you’re attracted to; younger, older, skinny, fat. How many times have you seen someone’s great-grandfathers trying to pick up a barely legal tenderoni and no one says a word. I mean, it’s obviously as normal as sliced bread and it will continue on long after we’re all dead. But what happens when a woman tries to do the same? Well, obviously she must be shamed! How dare she take advantages of such a young man, she’s a woman for Christ’s sake. She’s suppose to be fucking nurturing and have no desire to sit on said young and able dick. Because let’s face it, we’re suppose to accept men as they are: saggy hairy balls, gross back hair, erectile dysfunction. But as women, we should keep it “tight and right” under the threat of being traded for a younger model. We are suppose to see past superficiality of a smooth and young body and go for someone “our own age”, whatever the fuck that means.Why does age affect the way we date, as women but not men’s. Obviously we can cite “Patriarchy” as the most obvious reason, but is there more than that…..
I want to apologize for my absence but I was very ill and swimming in the bullshit as per usual. I mean my dating life is dry as fuck but there are those moments where I find myself in a shit storms of my own doing. You would think after kissing countless frogs, bums and undesirables, I would have the common sense to not even look back. BUT, your girl is nothing if she’s not consistently making BAD decisions about the men she chooses. It’s always risky when you allow someone who’s hurt you to come back in your life, because 9 times out of 10, they’ll screw you over in the exact same manner they previously did. And yes I got burned yet again by the same loser. I’m obviously a glutton for punishment but it’s also made me wonder why I decided to give him another chance. I don’t think my level of desperation has sunk that low (yet..) but I think I was mesmerized by the fact that he was crawling back to me (who doesn’t like to see a man on his knees) and that he had rehearsed his little presentation quite well…