so let’s be honest, why i am here.

So i’m not married, not engaged.  not…. anything,  and qite possibly, a lesbian.  god, i love women. i… can take or leave men.  identity crisis? you bet your baked beans on it.

on top of this interesting conundrum, i live with my boyfriend R.  when we met there was thi amazing connection, the kind you’re liably to read about in a 15-year-old’s blog.  oh yeah- and i’m only 20 (and 20 and 3/4th’s, but who’s counting…).  So I guess i have to wonder if that connect was just… a lonely 19 year olds emblazoned idea of love or what it should be plasted on to a 33 year old man.  i don’t know.  but i do know that it’s definatly not that way anymore, and things are gettiong rough.  lpsu, i hate sex.  and, oh yeah, R loves it.

we fight constantly.  about what’s for dinner.  about who lost the damn remote.  about who’s getting up with A in the morning (more about A later).  we fight about ecverything, down to what did that look you shot me really imply or what color the sky really was. it’s… no more fun. wat i want isn’t what he’s willing to give, and what he want’s taxes me emotionally (so much so i take luxapro- for serious depression), physically (comon, anyone who’s pretended the sex was good for a night knows how exhausting that is, and let’s be honest, i’m pretty much always pretending), and mentally (R is a genius, MESA member style, and if I don’t want to be considered ’stupid’… okay well, i am compared to him.  and that’sa  huge admission to make).

so… what am i doing here? or rather, how do i love R, let me count the ways…

• one, for the way that we move together, tandmem birds sweeping through the night
• two, for the way you understand and aprreciate my need for small comforts, and provide them
• three, for the way you let me dote on pigpig, even though yiuo hate rodents
• four, for the way i know that in the ways i won’t care for myself, you care for me
• five, for the ways you show me you love me, and yes, i believe you, i know you love me
• six, for the way you tuck me in
• seven, for the way you cook me dinner
• eight, for the way you know when i just need silence
• nine, for the way that you know me so well, inside and out, i fear ever being able to find someone who could ever understand me so compleatly, so wholy.

then of course, there’s the reason i can’t ever ignore.  your son, A.  the way you are with him.  the way he is always #1. the relationship you’ve built with him, the fact that you would do anything to help him, anything at all.  and the way you’ve let me become a part of it all.

Amen.  Yes, and thank you, Lord.

 

valentine’s day

for valentine’s i decided to do something for R.  something amazing. 

you see, i’m pretty much one of those “girl next-door” types.  not sexy really, not slutty.  and R loves slutty, but i’m uncomfortable with that.  so i thought, hell, why not, i’m going to go all out slutty, since i don’t really do that.  so out i went.  i shopped all over.  bought the stripper heels, the tight black slink dress with the holes all down the sides.  huge holed fishnets. fake lashes.  even a stripper wig in this hot red and black.  oh yeah, slutty.

 then, i rented myself the cheap motel room (bring your own sheets people)/  as frustrated as i am sexualy, then doesn’t excuse not trying to make an effort for the v-day right?  so i do it all.  it takes time, and money.  and… it’s out of my comfort zone.

so last night on the way home from A’s swimming lesson we stop at the Big K on the corner.  i can’t go in because “A needs to pick out smoething for you from valentines.”  we go home, A giv es m a box of chocolates and a card.  awww, cute.  gotta love 6 year olds.

R suddenly rememebers he has finals do Valentine’s night and the day after. R: “mind if we celebrate next week instead, dear?”  Me: (no… i guess not… okay i do but i’m not saying….”) “No, it’s fine” R: “okay, but you have to tell me what you got… i can’t wait” Me: “Okay,,,blahblahblah, now you have to give me mine.”

Here’s where the problem is.  he goes into the bedroom.  there’s rusteling.  he comes out. somethings behind his back.  he hands me a bright green stuffed frog. 

R:  “happy valentine’s day honey.”

(okay, so… it’s cute.  that’s it?  at least it’s something.  he thought of me, that’s the important part…) to be honest, if it had ended here i might have been okay.  but no.  he reaches is his pocket and pulls out a jewerly box.  (oooh!  sparklies!!!)

R: “hope you like it.”  he opens the box.

guess what?  last ngiht he bought me my valentine’s day present.  at k-mart.  10k gold earings like you’d buy a 10 year old cause they can’t be trusted with more. so flimsy i could bend it with my pinky.  a last minute, thoughtless gift.  i can’t even wear earings, i never have been able to.  myears get all pussy and crusty. yummm.

so yeah, i lost it.  big time. kmart last minute earings. making a fantsay come true. 

you do the math.

happy valentine’s day all- we’re staying in. (and i’m wondering why i stay at all)

yours truely,

-L

 

sex, sex, sex makes the world go round… and round… and round…

…but not for me.

let me explain something to you, typist.  i hate sex. oh ye, i hate it.  it’s like a fucking play i have to put on.  don’t tell me i just need the right partner, i’ve been with enough people.  i just don’t… lust… sex feels like someone rubbing your back, i can take it or leave it.  i hate sex, and i have never lusted for it.

plus… there’s the whole am i a lesbian thing, and if so, what do i do about my belief in god?

shit if i know.  but women are… so much more beautiful then men.  so… sexy.  and emtionally, well let’s just say we’re in a whole other sphere.  does that make me gay?  i don’t know, but i think i could be happier with a woman.  but who knows.  and i could never leave A and R.  …but i think about it.  fuck.

 

who am i?

who am i?  it’s a quest6ion people have been asking themselves fotever and for some reason, starting out this blog, i feel it’s a nessicary evil.  i’ve got to answer it for you, typist.  and dammit, i have no fucking idea.  so… instead…. here are the things i do know————->

1. my name is L
2. i am 20, born 9/20/85
3. i am dating a 35 year old man, R 
4. R has a son, A, to whom i act as a stand-in mother to
5. i am miserable, and can’t change the reasons why
6. my depression meds aren’t working
7. i am miserable.
8. oh yeah, and i want a puppy

and now, pulled from my spoiling brain, things i don’t know—->

1. i don’t know how to change my life
2. i don’t know my sexuality
3. i don’t know how to b happy anymore
4. i don’t know who i am anymore

 more another time.

yours truely,

-L