Sick of Lonely Finally I want, I would like someone in my life, who cares particularly about me. My family does an incredible job of listening to me. But they don't want to talk about the things I want to talk about as much as I do. They're reading my shit to show love. Not because they were wondering or thinking similar things, or want to know more, at the same intensity. But I reason if someone were “mine” or they were in “love” with me, they'd really want this interaction on equal levels. So maybe if they were “my” partner, wanting to be, (because they were “in love” with “me”), we could TALK TALK TALK. And other stuff, after the connection was verified by all the chakras.
I had short stints of “falling in love,” but never the real thing, RIGHT?
There is or isn't a “real thing?”
Does the length or end of it determine the interpretation of gold?
I want to be in love, too, but this seems even more impossible than getting someone in love with me.
Actually they both seem impossible at this point.
I used to think I was attractive to most people.
But not my insides. Because no permanent deals were sealed.
(maybe they shouldn't be, ever)
Did anyone ever want me, PARTICULARLY, as opposed to some other, nicer girlfriend? No.
Put a little pressure on them, and they fold.
Weak. I'm sick of overwhelming people with my ideas and opinions and getting no response.
I know my work is good. But no one cares.
Guys stopped being interested when I stopped flirting with them.
They like flirting, and feeling needed and helpful and knowledgeable.
But that's how I like to feel. I want that job.
They just need to shut the fuck up, imo.
I don't like flirting, I like a TOTAL ATTACK OF PRESENCE AND EMOTION, with a healthy helping of WORDS. i like irresistible attraction at first meet.
Bad Romance, like Lady Gaga.
Imagine having a partner that knew you were a genius? Is that a fantasy?
Imagine having a partner whose intelligence itself was a turn on.
I've had intelligent partners, but with other kinds of intelligence- like Ca was smart at photography and storm preparation. Mishy was street smart, and also smart at words, but not sober enough to maintain the marriage— married an addict, got what I paid for.
Gaige was smart at flowers and business. But not smart at reading me.
Insecure about me, angry at me.
Jason was smart at taking advantage of bipolar, borderline type women (and photography).
Jason was smart at becoming a disguise of himself presenting as a man.
Jason MIGHT have loved me, particularly. He could kind of stand me, anyway. We used to spoon on the foldout bed and watch comedians greatest shows.
Who else did I try to marry or who might've loved me? Teresa? Yeah, I think she did, which is why I still have vivid “together” dreams about her. But IRL, she annoyed me too much to tolerate being so gay. And I couldn't cope with anger at her for not listening to me when I said no. I ran away to the comfort of being alone (I certainly do prefer it). So that was in 1999, out east.
Like everyone I tried to love, she married her lifelong partner right after me, and their first conversations probably included how crazy and shitty I am.
I miss Jason.
I always will, even though he was insane and low key violent/scary. He was like me, but with less skills for life, and far more advanced alcoholism.
Intelligent with jokes is one of my most respected kinds of intelligence.
Jokes are everything to me, because they can go with you into the darkest dark. Not the knock knock jokes. But the irony, parody, double meanings, cultural references. Comedians are the jesters, they get to say the things.
Jason (whoever he became by end of life) convinced himself he was black. I'm serious. Italian (maybe a Chinese grandmother, true? Who knows). He succeeded in convincing himself that he was black (alcohol assisted), so confused life becomes a nightmare.
And now, I think he was a (trans) woman underneath, and most of his energy went into hiding and controlling that. He didn't just prey on women because he needed them financially, but because he loved, idolized/objectified them, wanted to be them, or be someone else to them. Picture of a psychotic “transvestite” (fits him so well), but most importantly (to him) to NEVER, NOT be a tall white alcoholic from Florida.
Anyway, I tried to join a dating app today, but it's asking for some bullshit validation, and usually i end up swiping left on everyone. And if I'm interested in anyone, it's because I think they're VERY (unrealistic or old photos) HOT, which is what happened with Jason, with his black and white pictures (yes, I married TWO photographers, jason right after Ca), and why we met on OKcupid. And Jason was sexy. Our sex though, was bad, not too enjoyable for either of us, (in his opinion, because I'm a lesbian) but we felt a little closer because of it.
Once he smoked my joint (he only drank), and he deadass turned to me and said, “You can tell me, you know. That you're a dude.”
Never sharing weed again. I'm not a dude. I'm a girl. But he talked about fags badly, because he hated himself.
Michelle hated herself, too, trauma. What a shame. Lebanese prince. With Michelle (I'll always miss Michelle too), she was also hyper verbal and a writer. We wrote loooonnnnggg emails to each other from work and home. 500 words per email, average, I bet. We matched that way.
But not sexually. We were comfortable, and sexy, but not really adult sexual.
We were trying to be like twins, that was her idea, and I went with it.
Twinship. She got that tattoo. I got her initials. She got the date we met in roman numerals (and then 500 more tattoos). She sneaking heroin behind my back, then it all went downhill.
She's the one who said, “Go back to school, become a teacher,”
and in a lot of ways I wish I NEVER DID THAT!!!!
I COULD'VE BEEN AN ACTUAL ROCKSTAR!
blew it
but it really is fine