Woman vs. Women


In December I decided to take my best friend to a psychic to have our fortunes told for her birthday. She and I had wanted to do this since we were in high school. I always felt as if my husband wouldn’t allow me to do such a thing so this was one more thing to check off my very long list of things I can do now that my husband no longer has a say in it.

It was her birthday and she made the appointment for each of us. She had seen a psychic before and swore that I would be blown away with what they’d have to tell me. But I am a skeptic. I thought these weirdos would take my money and give me a bunch of general information that could apply to basically anyone.

She and I met in the parking lot of this psychic’s office. I was still not sure it was going to be worth the $150 that it was going to cost me but I wanted to try it & I knew it’d make my girl friend happy. Her appointment was first. I sat outside and read a book she brought for me about a woman who had supernatural senses, something I relate to.

Her 30 minute reading flew by and before I knew it she was walking out. I stood and walked towards her. I could tell she had been crying but she had a big smile on her face. She said as she walked up, “she’s good”, and with that I made my way inside her office.

I sat at a table and she introduced herself. Then quickly went through what types of readings she offered. I decided to have my palms read and my fortune told. She covered a lot of information very fast. It was information that couldn’t apply to anyone but me & most of it were things no one on earth knew about. It was jaw-dropping stuff. One thing that struck me & stayed with me since that meeting with her was about my relations with other women.

She pointed out that she knew I had never had many female friends. That I always had mostly male friends. She said that women have been jealous of me since I was a very young child, through school and into adulthood. She added that women feel threatened by me because I do not follow the same protocol they do with regard to men, sex, business and relations with other women.

All of a sudden I had validation for the way I’d felt all my life. Here it was, displayed before me on the palms of my own hands and read to me by someone I had never met in my life & had no knowledge of me besides my name, date of birth and my occupation.  She could see the surprise in my face and called me on it. She asked if her statements matched with how I’d felt inside. I told her yes. She continued her reading  and I listened but I stayed on that statement in my mind until she finished.

Throughout my life I’ve always felt a little different than the image I had/have in my mind of most women. Growing up, I was the tomboy. Sometimes tougher than some of the boys. I always controlled things. At times I was cruel to the boys. I remember a few instances where I felt a rush of…something (not exactly sure how to describe it). One of them was in my front yard. We had a huge fruitless Mulberry tree that was perfect to climb. I was playing with my good friend Aaron that lived across the street and one door down. I must have been seven or eight and he was just a bit younger than me. He climbed up into the tree first and I watched from the ground. As he found his perch he looked down at me and motioned for me to climb up. Instead of following his invitation I twisted it on him. I told him he had to take his shorts off first before I’d climb up there with him and then I’d take mine off once I got up there. He hesitated at first but eventually they came off. It was the first time I had seen a boy without pants on. I stared. I never did climb the tree. I let him sit alone, half naked, vulnerably way up in the dense tree. I pretended that I was coming up at one point but I only did it so I could get closer to him so I could snatch his shorts out of his hand. Now he couldn’t get down without having everyone see that he was naked and I enjoyed how uncomfortable he looked and sounded. He begged me to give his shorts back. I wouldn’t. No amount of begging could help him. He was up there a long time before he climbed out, without his shorts, and ran home half naked while I watched. I threw his shorts into a bush and carried on with my daily antics.  –  A dozen or so years later after his family and my family had moved away from that neighborhood and Aaron and I were adults – he came looking for me. When he found me he told me that I had become the object of his desires and I had been ever since that day in my front yard. He asked me if I would consider a relationship with him. I told him no. I knew that if I did I would mistreat him and I didn’t want that. I haven’t seen him since. I have talked with his parents and they tell me he is still very much in love (lust?) with me and even they wished he & I would have gotten married because he “needs a girl like me to straighten him out”.

Aaron wasn’t the only boy I controlled like that. There were quite a few I enjoyed humiliating on a regular basis.  And all of them came to find me once they became adults.

Then at puberty my role reversed. Well, not entirely. Some boys made me slip into a submissive state when I was in their presence while others stroked the dominant in me. I never realized it until right now. I never separated the two very different personalities before like this. I see now what happened to my relationship with my husband. Deep down, I know that I need to submit to a man for the relationship to work. My relationship with my ex-husband started off with me forcing myself to see him as the dominant when he clearly was not. It became obvious to me one day when we were in San Francisco killing time. We hadn’t been together for very long and I don’t think we were married just yet. A switch went off in me. I felt it. I think he even saw it in my face. I am sure of it now. We never discussed what happened that day because we both knew what it meant. It meant that we were not right for each other and neither of us wanted to ever admit that.

(I am shocked and relieved at the same time and needing to get back on topic now)

I’m not exactly sure why I don’t relate well to women. Maybe it’s my demeanor. Maybe it’s because I don’t hate men like most women do. Maybe it’s because I love men and respect men and understand men that women don’t like me. Maybe it’s because I don’t like women that women don’t like me. I don’t mean to offend anyone by implying that all women are the same but in my experience I know that a woman is more likely to stab another woman in the back out of jealousy than a man is. With the exception of the man that acts like and idolizes women. He’s just like them. Flamboyant. Materialistic. Shallow. Spineless. Close-minded. He’ll turn his back on you as quickly as some women do.

Maybe I’m old fashioned? I have been told I have an old soul.

BUT-

I truly believe the male should always dominate but at the same time the woman should never become a doormat. Mutual respect is required and each should know one another’s role in the relationship.

That’s my opinion and if you don’t like it, go make one of your own.

j o u r n e y


More than two months have passed since I last spoke to my ex-boyfriend and now I have someone new in my life. It has been a very long time (if ever) since I felt a connection like this with someone. I hate to compare but the differences between the two relationships I’ve had in the last 14 months are unmistakable. But what is even more eye opening to me is the difference in me.

I am a very intense person. I am truly relentless. But this time, this new relationship I feel different. I don’t feel obsessive. I don’t feel as if I need to constantly prove that I am worthy to be there. I don’t feel that the “hunt and capture” needs to continue each time we see one another. I do feel safe & relaxed. The best part of all is that I am not hiding anything. I am an open book and I don’t feel the slightest apprehension about sharing anything with him.

He and I are from opposite sides of the tracks. He is rich with character, morals, love, compassion, will-power, good family-values. He paid his dues in his own way to gain those traits. And me, well, my traits weren’t necessarily paid for by any means, but if they could have been mom would have bought them, probably 10 of them each, just in case she might run low someday. If you know what I mean?

What am I writing this for? Oh yeah…I remember now. Since I have been preoccupied, both mind & body, with my beau I haven’t had as much desire to write. It perplexed me at first and I started to feel a sense of failure. After thinking about it I realized I typically only feel compelled to write when I feel sad, lonely, depressed or angry. Not when things are going well. When I’m hurting inside is when it flows out the best. Some of my favorite (and some of the blog readers favorites) were created when I was ultimately at my lowest point. Why is that? I thought about something someone (thank you Bill) told me recently when we were discussing why I hadn’t written for a while. He said (I don’t remember it word for word, so I’ll fill it in the way I perceived the statement),

“well, you know what they say? Artists suffer for their art”

They do? I didn’t know that. He went on to tell me a few short stories about famous artists who publicly “suffered” for their inspiration to create their best work. I pretended to know who & what he was talking about but I really didn’t know the details he was referring to (sorry Bill). So I decided to Google it and low and behold, he was right! I found several articles backing up his theory that: 

TRAUMA INFLUENCES CREATIVITY

It went on further to say that artists would actually fabricate trauma in their life in order to have inspiration to create. Through the years, studies were done and psychotherapy was prescribed for those that suffered in a destructive way and artists were taught a new way to spark their inspiration. I’m glad I looked into that statement because I was feeling uninspired to write simply because I am happy now. People use every emotion as a muse for their creativity. I am now learning to feel the happiness as deeply as I feel the pain and can also feel the direction my writing will take because of it.

 

:o) 

FWB


 

woman-alone.jpg

FWB, Fuckbuddies, casual sex – whatever you want to call it. Basically having sex with a friend or acquaintance without the woes that come from a commitment to a ‘relationship’. Am I the only person that has a hard time with this type of arrangement?

Being that it’s been a little over a year now since my separation from my husband and one month since the complete end of my last ‘relationship’ I am again faced with the ‘friends with benefits’ relations. Well, I know I am not the only person on Earth that feels this way but I just can’t have sex without becoming emotionally and physically attached to the person. One night stands are usually an exception. I just feel that if you’re not in a committed relationship and having ongoing sex with more than one person you’re either being led on or your leading yourself on that at some point ‘things will change’. They don’t! My beliefs are that if you’re not finding all you need in that one person then they’re not the right one for you. Besides, no man can please me better or faster than I can please myself so most of the time I use the feelings of penetration, touch, sound and scent to take back with me and use them for my self-pleasure, while in a relationship or otherwise. It’s the intimacy and the closeness that I cannot recreate alone.

I am guilty of having sex with multiple partners. I see now that it wasn’t done out of my need to have an orgasm, it was done for my need to be held and touched. Nothing more. That’s exactly why I become emotionally tied to the man/men I have sex with. Hmmmm. You see, this is why I write. I work through my quirks with my pen and paper or in this case my keyboard and a white screen. It clarified something for me that I struggle greatly with and put it in a context that I can understand & work through to change.

Having figured that out just now gave me more clarity on my last relationship. I just realized that I was never just held by him, or touched. I held on so long just waiting for it to happen. Thinking that if I kept working at it & putting up with what I did that he’d want to just hold me. He’d finally trust me enough to just let himself feel and love. When all he wanted was sex. He never once just held me. Poor him! I say that only because I think intimacy is something you can give to another person if you have a strong inner being yourself.

Just fucking doesn’t prove you’re a man. Anyone can fuck. He shows he’s a real man when he holds you afterwards.