Rising Up From The Ashes

Why is it lately that whenever I have a few drinks I become convinced that I am full of brilliant insights and absolutely *must* share them with others??? I suppose the good thing is that I am not much of a talker so at least I don’t drunk dial people. Funny how something that would be viewed as randomly jumping from topic to topic any other time suddenly seems like meaningful and insightful connections once one has a few drinks down.

Not one of my better ones. Kind of lame and pathetic really, but what the hell, I was at a wedding, drinking champagne all evening….here it is anyway.

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One thing I will never understand are the people who lie and claim to love someone when they don’t. It may have made sense in the past when it was often necessary to get some pussy but these days you don’t even need to know someone’s name so why bother?

What advantage is there in getting someone to love you if you don’t love them back? Some of the most unpleasant times in my life were when I learned that I was the focus of someone’s unrequited love.

We all know that I enjoy hurting people. Live for moments when I can carve them up with a knife, flog a back ‘til the person begs me to stop, or bite someone so hard that I puncture his skin. Dream of branding my name on an ass someday…

Physical pain in a safe and trusting relationship puts a smile on my lips, lights up my insides and makes my panties wet. I can even understand emotional pain within a relationship as a way to confront ourselves and deal with inner demons. Fear. Abandonment. Humiliation. All easier to face with a companion at our side.

But without consent, without honesty, and without trust, what is gained? How does manipulation and deceit of someone who has never done anything to you make one feel better? How can a person gain any satisfaction or pride from trying to steal love? From fucking with other’s emotions just for fun? What level of insecurity and self-loathing must exist to trick someone into loving you? To not feel deserving of it on your own merits but to sink to settling for someone who will cherish the mask, the act, you put on? And even more so to spurn it, reject it, when given freely, without strings, qualifiers or conditions attached?

I hate manipulation. To me it is disingenuous, dishonest and weak. I strive to be a better person than that. Most of the time I am successful. Certainly don’t go out of my way to develop, practice or hone those skills. My sense of value and self-esteem come from inside. I don’t play games. I don’t use people.

*sigh*

I suppose I am just naive.
Clueless.

I do know I am the last of a dying breed.
Someone who actually still struggles with trying to be noble and honorable.

I often wonder why I bother.

Fully expecting to snap one day.

Finally getting to release those REALLY sadistic urges.
The one’s people won’t consent to.
Not in a million years.
Not even the serious masochists I know who enjoy being torn to shreds by a single-tail (a whip for you non-kink folks).

And I am not joking when I say I admire Jigsaw.

Fantasize about releasing my wickedly evil side in an attempt to wake others up.


It is not like I expect everyone to love me. Hell, I don’t even expect (or want!) everyone to like me. For that matter, I am quite comfortable if you hate or despise me. Go ahead, tell me to my face. Chances are that I will probably laugh and agree that I can be loathsome. The worst I’ll do is turn and walk away.

Just like I know that there are people who think I am brilliant, who admire my education, my experiences and my thought processes, I realize there are others who think I am a complete idiot. They feel that I waste my time and brain power on things that are useless, meaningless and trivial.

Similarly, I know of people who find me beautiful. They drool over my full breasts, think I have fantastic eyes and dream of my powerful legs. I am also aware there are many who find me unattractive, fat and disgusting. Hey, to each their own!

I find that love often helps us to see that which is beautiful. It brings out the attractiveness in another. Helps us to overlook the flaws, weaknesses and inadequacies in each other. Just as I cannot imagine that my love for someone would end because he lost his job, or his leg, or his hair, I cannot imagine not loving someone in the first place due to some silly, superficial detail. I am always disappointed in my girls when we go out and they blow off some guy because he is too young, too short, too light skinned, too skinny, too whatever. I am secure enough that I don’t give a rat’s ass about what other people think about me or my partner.

There is someone I used to be close to. Used to share things with. Who decided to get a divorce because she learned her husband had a chronic illness. “I do not want to have to spend the rest of my life taking care of his ass!” WTF? You are going to leave someone due to a health condition that is out of his control yet you expected him to support your fucking lazy ass for life? Seriously. I could not believe it. Still cannot. People fucking disgust me!

Perhaps that is my problem. The love I believe in is unconditional. It believes that the connection of spirits is more important than anything else. That living in a box with someone who loves you is better than a mansion with someone who doesn’t. That working your fingers to the bone with a loving partner trumps a life of leisure spent lonely. That love really does conquer all.

I suppose that is why I am slow to fall in love and I don’t do all that ‘falling out of love’ crap I hear about. I have only fallen in love a few times in my life and it is probably just as well. It doesn’t seem to agree with me. Sends others fleeing.

Occasionally someone will ask me why I am so cold.

So fiercely independent.

So resistant to getting close to others.

Why not?

Makes more sense than getting close, attached, then having them disappear.
*poof*
Leaving only a hole behind.

Worse than not having anyone to lean on, no one to call, is reaching out only to find that no one cares. At least the other way, one can keep that tiny spark of hope alive. That there is at least someone out there who gives a shit and would help if they knew. Sometimes that bit of hope is all one has. Is all that there is. Can’t risk extinguishing it.

I really ought to know better by now.

I am a fucking fool.

A romantic idiot.

Someone who ought to spend the rest of her life in isolation so that I can finally stop this madness once and for all.

Okay, so I was correct in my last blog that I was going to end up rambling on at length later in the day. However, before I got it typed up I became concerned that someone I spoke to after writing this might read this and take it as some sort of hint or as being directed toward him in some way so I have put off posting it. Now it is just driving me nuts and I have to get in on here so that it isn't sitting around on my desktop any more. This is only me thinking on paper and is not a hidden message of any kind.


The desire or need to go out to a big New Year's Eve celebration baffles me. As far as I am concerned, hanging out with loud, drunken strangers is something I try to avoid whenever possible. I'd much rather sit at home, alone, with a bottle of bubbly and some truffles. To ring it in by myself (hence, the long rambly blog!).

Nor, for that matter, do I get NY's resolutions. I will certainly try to be a better person starting tomorrow but then I shoot for that every year on June 12th as well. And, as one surely expects, sometimes I am successful and others I fail miserably. The latter happens far more often than I would like although I am able to delude myself into thinking that overall I am improving and that is what counts.

For a variety of reasons, I have very few people I am close to.
I need a great deal of time alone which is often misinterpreted.
I have little patience for fools.
I can be loud, goofy and make inappropriate comments.
I can just as easily be quiet, thoughtful, introspective and lost in another world.
And, oh my, can I be ornery.
I tend to push people away.
Sometimes consciously.
Even more often unconsciously.

I write all of this to warn/admit that I know no more about friendship than I do love.
Anything here is really just slightly tipsy ramblings while I finish my bottle and think.

I struggle with trying to understand people who are phony, particularly with their friends. Who put on masks and pretend to be something they clearly are not. I am not talking about being polite. Nor am I referring to the roles we play with family or work situations. I am thinking of people who deny themselves and the thing they (do/do not) like. People who in one setting will claim to be friends (friends, not acquaintances, pals, buddies, etc.) with another and then in another setting deny liking that person at all. If there is a person that you dislike enough to disrespect by badmouthing them to others, not close confidants but casual acquaintances, then why bother pretending to be a friend to their face? Hell, I have a hard enough time being friends with the people I do like. I would never waste my time and effort on someone I don't.

People talk to me. Even complete strangers will confide secrets to me within minutes of meeting. This often leaves me in an odd position. I will be sitting around chatting with a person I know and this individual will express concern about some other person/relationship that I barely know. However, I do have valuable information that could help but I cannot share. This leaves me feeling like an ass for not helping the one I know and like in order to respect the privacy of someone I barely know. Frustrating because I cannot help the person I want and also because it seems that the rare times I actually confide in someone else, I do not receive the same consideration for my privacy.

One of the things that I find fascinating is the types of things these people have burdening them. Especially when I do know their other person well and am positive that it would not be a problem if he/she knew of the secret. For example, I love that I know two secret cross-dressers. Both of whom are afraid that the other will learn of this. Part of me just wants to force them each to dress and then expose them to one another to get it over with. Personally I think it would be good for both but it is not my decision to make.

It interests me the number of closeted cross-dressers I know and saddens me that they feel they have to hide something they find so satisfying. Stupid societal norms! Although seeing someone cross-dress does nothing for me sexually, I do always enjoy when someone does simply because it confronts the taboo and demonstrates a great deal of confidence.

On the other hand, I hate it when I am in on a secret between two people. Particularly the aforementioned friend/non-friend type (or for that matter, lover/non-lover) I find it depressing to sit with someone who is struggling to improve a relationship when I know that there is no chance and it is already too late. Typically I then find myself in the position of having to give advice. Something I hate to do at any point but even more so when I cannot be fully honest.

I guess what I find especially disturbing is that I have heard of lot of this lately from several different people. If it were just one individual, I would simply put this two-faced crap down as someone who is a jerk and a user. Apparently, there are a lot more of them running around that I would like to think. Great. Although I suppose that does make me feel a bit better about my lack of people. Rather than have someone pretend to be my friend, I'd rather just know where I stand right off the bat.


Perhaps I just need to drink more/faster so I stop thinking I am being profound or coming up with anything useful.