I tell myself I’m getting over him, slowly but surely, but damn if this is not one of my favorite things still. Those three dots.
Sooooo… I have less than six weeks to have all the sex I can get, because after Oct 17, I can’t have sex for like 2+ months and who knows if it will ever be the same again anyway. No-uterus sex can’t possibly be the same as with-uterus sex. Six weeks left for the only kind of sex I’ve ever know.
The internet says I can “relearn” how to have orgasms again and it should make me feel happy but instead it makes me mad. Not just mad. Like enraged. I want to break things.
I am very angry about this.
But seeing as I’m about to be on my fúcking period again for like the 25th time in the past month, maybe I’ll be less angry soon.
I had what I thought was a promising date lined up for this weekend. while I wasn’t purposely going below my station, I definitely wasn’t going above my station, you know what I’m saying?
Anyway I thought he was cute enough. and he was funny, he made me laugh. Making me laugh is like half the battle to win my affections. And he seemed nice. I enjoyed his time. It was all great. the plan was to meet on Sunday up in the mountains (near his house) for a cute little mountain town date. It sounded fun and I was looking forward to it.
So all week long we have been chatting and laughing and getting to know each other a little better, waiting for the weekend and our date.
But then suddenly tonight he gets all weird with me. says I’m a ghost. He can’t find me on the internet. He has searched my name and my phone number and there is “no trace.” I laughed and thought he was just being goofy. but he was serious! he was actually mad about it! then he basically told me to kiss off. he came back a little later and asked me to “explain” why he can’t find me on the internet. For real!
I didn’t respond to him at all. Because like what the hell am I supposed to say to this? So I just ignored him. But then then get this. HE CALLED ME! Like some kind of lunatic. What. The. Hell. WHO DOES THAT.
I immediately blocked him and unmatched with him on tinder.
I don’t need this kind of grief in my life. He’s stalking me on the internet and gets mad because he can’t find anything? And then demands I give an explanation?
What the fuck is wrong with men.
I mean seriously. what is wrong with them?
Yes yes you’re right dude. this short chubby middle aged single mom of two is trying to seduce you with my below average body, all so I can go on a date with you and then… do what? I don’t even know. Steal your drum kit?
As Jenny Lewis says in her classic hot heaux summer jam: I’m not a psycho, I’m just trying to get laid.
This guy had a legit shot at my AP and he blew it.
There is maybe a date with a pilot on Saturday but probably not. He asked me some questions the other night in our chat that seemed innocuous on the surface, but actually gave me the creeps. I haven’t figured it out yet, I don’t know the secret key to unlocking top tier tinder. but I am learning to trust my instincts. so if a guy gives me a weird vibe then I’m gonna pay attention to that. This pilot is giving me weird vibes. Just like that surgeon doctor (who I also had to block).
I need a name for fall. Hot heaux summer was so good. I need something equally good for fall.
I’m not sure if I wanna be slutty christa or solemn christa or looking for love christa or alone christa. shameful christa? Magical christa? Owning my sexual power christa? Crying christa?
I won’t have my uterus anymore so maybe I’ll just be wombless christa and eat candy on the couch while watching Christmas movies.
I’m okay with this.
So let’s see. What can we call it.
Figuring it out fall?
Fall and Flailing
Frenetically frantic in fall
Fairy fall. No wait fairy tale fall.
I guess it doesn’t need to start with an F
This fall I want to be the dark crone vampire. bring all my boys into my web and see which ones come out on the other side. not as boys, no sir, but as men. Real men with the dexterity, with the strength, with the fingers, to dip deep into my honey power and stir it up, slow, sweet, make it swirl and tremble, over and over, and then… set me loose upon the world. Where I can flow thick and warm through the black streets, devouring more and more.
I want to go have a hundred drinks and disappear but all my friends are “busy.”
But really they are just tired of hearing me whine about my uterus.
FINE EVERYONE I WILL SHUT UP and contemplate the total disintegration of my identity and womanhood alone by myself in my crappy apartment. #coolcoolcool
This also means I can’t go to London but let’s be real after he downgraded us to just friends I knew I’d be incapable of going to London by myself.
I am mad at myself for not going to the national. I should have just gone and sat in a corner and listen to the music I love and who cares if I was alone and crying. I was alone at home basically crying. At least I would have seen the national. Instead I stayed at home for him, for nothing, and now they want to take my uterus and no one cares and men suck and I have six weeks left of being normal and then everything will change and my life is over and sex will probably never be the same and I’ll never have another orgasm again and no one wants me anyway so it’s all fine.
