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.


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.

4/21/2008: sibling rivalry

When I was born in 1973 my brother was going on ten. Mom & Dad owned and operated a small

business in Oakland, California. We lived in a part of the San Francisco Bay Area that was considered more of a farming community at that time. Clean, quaint, friendly … normal. My Dad would commute the 25 miles or so back & forth everyday and Mom stayed home to take care of me and my brother & do the bookkeeping for their company. My Dad was what people consider a work-aholic. He was also an alcoholic.

As I grew up I watched my family change like all families do. And just like most families, as my brother became a teenager, my parents had a hard time. He’d push and they’d pull. My Dad drank more. They all fought more. If I stayed quiet, I’d go unnoticed. When my brother got his driver’s license at sixteen he was given a black Trans-Am. I still remember the night he got it. He sat out in it in the driveway til I fell asleep inside. I can still hear my mom yelling out the front door to him to ask if he wanted his blanket & pillow. He totaled the car within a couple months. But mom made sure he had a replacement right away. Dad was against him getting a new car but my mom made life pretty miserable for anyone near her unless she got what she wanted. Dad always gave in eventually. So the next car was totaled. And the next. In two years my brother wrecked 8 or 9 cars. Every time it was the same, the new car would end up in a ditch, my brother would cry the blues to mom and he’d get another new car. My Dad just drank more. His trips to the bar after work would last longer & longer. He started leaving work early now & then to go to his bar. I watched my parents struggle with him. He was very passive aggressive and obviously having struggles of his own. I loved my brother. I looked up to him. He despised me. From the day I was born – he hated me. At the time I didn’t know why he was always so mean to me. I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t let me sit by him and watch TV with him. Or why when he & I would eventually interact he’d do cruel things to me. I couldn’t understand back then why my Mother never did anything to help me. My Father helped though but that only made my brother more hateful. He wanted my Fathers unconditional acceptance but he never got it. I had it. My Father & I had the strongest bond. Just like my Mother & my brother had. But I was punished, degraded, despised, mistreated because of it. I accepted my brother, no matter what.

When I was 7 or so, I found an essay he had written in school and read it. It was about me. I read how I was his pet-peeve. How he hated me. My Mother brought that essay up at dinner that night. He had gotten a decent grade or something so she decided to read it out loud for us. When she came to the parts that were the most hurtful to me, she laughed with my brother about what he had written then making fun of me when I started crying. Then the 2 of them would tease me for crying. Dad was drunk. He just ate. They laughed. I hated them and can see their faces as I write this and it makes me sick.

When I was 8 we moved from the only home I had ever known to a sprawling, seven thousand square foot house that my Mom & Dad designed and had built on fifteen acres they owned less than a five minute drive from my first home. My brother was eighteen. He had been to jail already. Wrecked a half-dozen cars my Dad bought him. Every night was the same. My Dad would come home late from work, completely marinated in Seagrams 7. He’d be so happy to see me when he came in. And I was so happy to see him, despite all the horrible things my Mom would say about him all day long. He’d come in & hug me first, always. Then make his way into the kitchen to greet my mom. We’d all sit down together to eat shortly after. Inevitably my brother would piss my Dad off in some way or another during dinner and dinner would end in some sort of eruption.

My brother & I eventually took over the family business. He was the labor and management and I was the books. Mom & Dad taught us everything we needed to know. At one point we were all equal partners in the Corporation. Then my Dad got sick, had a stroke and couldn’t work anymore. He died several months after his stroke and within a few months of his death my brother bought me out of the family business.

It was such a relief to be free of the burden of having to work with my brother the rest of my life but it also kinda hurt that he’d done that to me.

open relationships

What exactly is an open relationship?

My definition of ‘open relationship’ is there’s no commitment to any one person. So isn’t an open relationship the same thing as ‘friends with benefits’? In other words, if a person wants an open relationship he or she is a polygamist. And that word (for me) stirs all sorts of feelings & emotions and reminds me of the polyamorists in Utah that have large, extended families and everyone loves everyone and they all share beds & household chores & have long hair & wear long dresses & want peace & incest & molestation (*note: I know this is not the rule about polyamorists but it IS the reputation they have).
This is one area that I’ve never been able to sway my beliefs into the other direction just for a test drive. I strongly feel when I am in a relationship that my commitment to that person (and them to me) is complete. I don’t have sex with anyone but him and I don’t share certain thoughts with anyone but him. I expect the same from my partner. Why even bother to be with that person if you aren’t going to be number one next to none? If I am not able to physically & emotionally satisfy my partner and he shows an interest in an open relationship, to me, it’s his way of having permission to cheat and therefore should just move on to finding his happiness without me.

Being in love isn’t something I can control. I also cannot be in love with more than one person at a time. It’s a special place deep in my heart that has room for only one. People fall in & out of love. They don’t fall in & in love. At one point in my life I could have several partners at once (not at the same exact time but rather a few separate fuck buddies) but none of them would ever/could ever have my heart completely. Perhaps I could be in a situation like that again someday, but not right now. Being one of many doesn’t make me feel very good. Why would I be chosen over anyone else? What’s/who’s to say I’m any different than the 4, 5, 6 or more other women he’s having his open relationship with? It’s like having a handful of jelly beans, each a different color. You could put them all in your mouth at the same time and yes, there will be a taste. It might taste good but you’re not savoring each separate flavor on it’s own. You will never know what it might make you feel, see, learn if you didn’t take the time to try each one, one by one. Giving them a chance to give you what they were created to give you. Then next time you come across a bowl of those jelly beans again you won’t know which one tasted the best and which one left that bad aftertaste without taking the time to experience every one.