love, actually

I’ve been living alone for exactly one year and one day. How nuts is that?

Go lisa, get your groove on! It’s your birthday!

I want to fall in love.

I’m ready to fall in love.

I couldn’t think of a good segue into this, but it’s true. I spent a lot of time with my maiden aunts recently, and I really don’t want to end up like them: bitter, desperate, clinging to the past. I want to love and be loved. I want to feel close with someone and feel their closeness. I want to rip apart the facades we put up as we approach people and feel their need for me as such as I need them.

It’s a very scary thought, thinking about allowing myself to be vulnerable — to willingly strip away all the barriers and just let it go. On the same hand, it’s also powerful feeling.

Makes me feel invincible.

I just want to be seriously and insanely in love. I learned a lot of lessons this year living alone. I learned I could do it by myself and I learned I could handle living alone without getting lonely. I learned I could love my friends and keep them close to me and I had great tolerance for my family. I learned how to let go of people who were not good for me.

I also learned that I like to take care of people. This was not something to be ashamed of, as I once thought it to be, but it’s actually a strength. The tricky part is when to know the difference between taking care of someone and mothering them to death: a problem I had with Paul. I think that because Paul was not responsive to return this in kind, I started to regret doing it. That regret became resentment. But when I’m with my mom and I help her, and I worry about her, I realise that I genuinely like doing this for her. She appreciates me, she’s proud of me, and she loves me. This is a step with my mother I never in a million years I thought I would see, but it happened. It did. I’m glad that our relationship is taking such leaps and bounds and that I no longer feel the resentment i used to feel towards her. There is always some strain, but it’s over ridiculously minute shit that it’s not even worth the bother anymore.

The year was spent in a lot of retrospection, a lot of people watching and a lot of getting to know who and what I am. It’s very tough to learn who
and what you are, but one of the biggest lessons I learned this year:

Don’t let the career goals overtake personal goals.

Very important is this one. Ironically (or shamefully enough), I was watching Charmed and one of the minor characters said to Phoebe something about how her generation of women were so focused on being independent and career orientated that they forgot about their personal relationships. Here were all these women in their 40s/50s who had no one to celebrate lifes things with them. I got choked up about that one. Really. No lie. I really don’t want to be like my aunts. Ages 60, 59 and 46. All bitter and desperate. Every single one of them. Two of them had the gall to tell me that I was too old to have babies at the age of 31. Can you believe this shit? Too damn old to have babies. I do want kids, someday. Just not right this second.

Love.

It’s a powerful word. Is there anyone in mind I’m thinking of as I write this? If I say yes, then someone will think I’m going too far, pushing boundaries we never really explored before. If I say no, then I could be lying. So I’ll say maybe. I’m not saying I’m in love with someone NOW, I am saying that if it happens, I won’t push it away, like I have so many times before.

Patrick and I were talking about sex the other night and he asked me, “When was the last time you had great sex?” I replied, “If I was being a bitch, 1992 or 1993.” “Damn,” he said, “That’s cold.” Even though we were on the phone, I nodded almost violently. One part of me felt like it was the truth, the other part of me felt like it was a lie. I HAVE had good sex since then, but, there was something always missing.

Things I didn’t think about then, that I realise now. Parts of me that wish that I could turn back the clock to repair those moments, be more attentive to my ex-lovers, instead of being hateful or mean as I was wont to do. Communicate more to them my own needs instead of expecting them to take charge and know what I want. Many mistakes were made on both sides. I do not put the blame solely on them, however, they do have their faults.

So then this leads me to thinking about sex, and what my sexual needs are. I think a lot of it has to do that I often find myself at odds with how I want to feel as compared to as how I really feel. I don’t have a problem being assertive towards someone, I have a problem when the person EXPECTS it always to be me to lead the way. I don’t have a problem being kinky, I do have a problem when it’s always that way. I don’t have a problem with lack foreplay, but I do have a problem if that is all I want and the person isn’t willing to do even that. I do believe in the tit-for-tat love life: If I go down on you, you return the favour. I just don’t get why so many guys are hung up on simply not returning the favour.

Sensuality, that’s a big. A huge one. In my early twenties, I thought it was all about hard, head banging against the wall kind of sex. Instant gratification now. Damned their needs, mine had to be taken care of first. But then I was so about control during the sexual relationship, my needs never really got met. Orgasms? Hrm. Good question. One person has been able to give me clitoral orgasms other than myself, one other gave me vaginal orgasms. A minute percentage of my lovers, isn’t that sickening? The irony about the one person who gave me vaginal orgasms, is that I didn’t really particularly care for him. We were dating, we were even living together, but it was a bad relationship and bad times. He also had a fetish for getting fucked up the ass with a dildo, so much so, he preferred that to actually having intercourse with me.

But I digress.

I realised I’m not a casual sex kind of person. If I’m going to sleep with you, it has to mean something. It has to denote something. A beginning of something, hopefully not an end. I can’t just sleep with random men to fulfil my needs because part of my needs is that I have to be attracted both physically AND mentally. I’ve said this nine hundred times before: you want to get into my pants, engage my mind. Yet no one listens. This is why I prefer being talked dirty to or having dirty stories read to me in bed rather than seeing porn — I’m not a visual person to get turned on sexually. This is one of the reasons why I’ve always been a big fan of phone sex.

I need all my senses on fire.

I also realised I’m not a dating kind of person. This means, I can’t just casually date someone. I’ve tried that and it doesn’t work. I want to crawl under the skin and get to know them and what makes them tick. That’s the challenge. I need to have their attention on me and my attention on them. It’s fearful isn’t? Almost intimidating, but, this works for me. I need to meet someone and know that if we are “talking” that they are talking to me and no one else. Monogamous from the start. It’s not that I’m jealous or insecure, it’s just that it takes so much damned energy to get to know someone, to spread it out over several someones just seems ridiculous to me.

It’s been said that men are logical creatures, romance goes out the window a lot of the times. In conversations with my brother and his friend tonight seem to mark that as being true. My brother said he never saw me as the getting married type, and while I can see where he is coming from to say that, I feel that he is wrong. I just don’t think I’m the type for a
“conventional” marriage. Not in the white picket fence, 2.5 kids and 3 dogs way. That is not me. Is marriage? Yes, it is.

My dating experiences this year were minute, at best. But they were powerful. I was able to find a lot about what I wanted from these few experiences. Will I jump back in the dating ring again? Not in the tractional sense, no.

I’m braver, stronger and more assured now. Something I could not say a year ago. Not even six months ago. I’m not willing to be with someone for the sake of being someone and I’m not willing to be with someone if they do not feel the same as I do. I’m not willing to risk my life with someone who isn’t willing to risk themselves for me. Because it will never work out.

A lot has changed over the this past year, internally, with me. I was able to face a lot of fears, take risks romantically and pull out when it wasn’t working. I was able to look at someone I loved for 15 years and tell him I was not going to sleep with him even when it was offered. Can you imagine, how incredibly hard and painful that was to do that? But I knew he wasn’t going to fuck me because it was “me,” he was going to fuck me because I was available pussy. I cried and cried and cried. When the end came, and he wanted to do the friendship with benefits routine, I told him on the phone I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be this person who randomly was available for quick and easy sex, because it would be, to me, just meaningless and empty sex.

I hung up on him. Never heard from him again. Never slept with him either. The only saving grace to my ego is that all he has to remember me is one of my internationally known blow jobs, ones that he remembered after all these years. He received two from me recently. Frightening isn’t it when your memory is reduced to a blow job?

Regardless of how that relationship worked out, it was needed, no matter what my friends said. I had to see him and confront him and gamble. I learned by my interaction with him just what kind of woman I was. I liked who I have became, that I was willing to risk it all for love and to walk away with no regrets when I wasn’t the person for him. That will be something I want to teach my children, to take risks. Take that chance. You never know what could happen.

I want to be with someone who is a risk taker, who is willing to gamble. Who isn’t afraid of being with me and knowing that being with me is not something entirely simple. I want someone who has goals, dreams and energy. Who, sexually, isn’t afraid of being sensual/passionate one night and slutty the next.

I always argued that I was a simple person, and I still think that is true. I just think my simplicity is different because I have so many layers. I used to think they were barriers or walls, Throw up so many, become defensive when accosted on something, toss it away and walk away being called a cold-hearted bitch. But, in retrospect, that isn’t true. We are often scared of what we do not understand, and I think much of the bad juju I got from exes is that they could not understand me and or they were frustrated when they thought they could “read me” and it was wrong. Or I did something that was different from previous interaction with me. But that, my dears, is part of my charm.

I do not feel like the bitter old lady that I often portray, I feel brave and hopeful. More hopeful than I had in years. I was able to get rid of a lot of demons this year, ones that I never knew existed and I’m able to be more up front about what I want and what I want.

Yeah.

PS: Masturbation lately has been in overtime. Self-realization has kicked my libido into over gear even more so and it’s driving me bat shit. Marathon masturbation sessions lasting over an hour have been common in this house. I’m telling you, I feel mightily sorry for the next guy I date because he is NOT going to know what has hit him.

x0x0xx

under construction

i apologize if you have been attempting to access this page within the last few days and unable to do so.

bryan, the head cheese who owns this server, has been upgrading the kernel and what not. i completely forgot he was doing so and emailed him a letter bitching. aww well.

things should be back to normal by now. i think.

check out bryan’s page. when he’s not being an obnoxious idiot grin, he is kinda handsome don’tcha think.

bryan and i were an item a few years back. i was in my “need to be controlling because my life is careening out of control” stage and he was in his “slowly getting over being burned by a psycho path” stage. it probably would have lasted if both of us didn’t freak out at our brains always thinking so much.

bryan and I don’t chit-chat much, but last i heard he was going to a shrink to stop analyzing his life so damn much.

i remember the first time had met bryan, back in ’96. I was finished with classes for the summer and was working full time at a video store. i decided i was going to take a week off and careen around Michigan and Ontario. i drove from grand rapids to port huron and then took off to detroit to see my friend patrick. patrick, unix systems guru that he is, was currently in between jobs, so at 1am, he and i took off from Toronto.

gads, we had so much fun. we drove in the middle of the night talking and smoking all the way. it was so poetic. as we drove up the Michigan coastline, we stopped at his fathers grave and at my grandmothers grave before heading across the bridge to Toronto.

wired, laden down with smoke and fueled by diet coke, we drove to bryan’s house in central Toronto.

when i first saw bryan, i thought “damn, what a hunka hunka burning love.” turned out he liked me too. god it was hard. patrick had a crush on me and so did bryan. i didn’t know what the hell to do. patrick was getting over patty his gf and i didn’t think he and i would even be remotely good together and bryan i barely knew.

but the point is, those days were fucking fun as hell. not knowing what i would be doing or where i was going. driving to toronto at a moments notice. calling bryan on the phone because i forgot something. laughing with patrick in the car on the way back. teasing both of them.

friday night, i got an icq message from my friend adam. adam and i go way back for a few years, when i started listening to his radio show on wyce. wyce is a public radio station and everyone there volunteers their time for the programming->disk jockying->whatever needs to be done. adam and sloth have a show every friday night from 12am-6am, which a better part of it was called the razor blade hour. i would stumble in at around 2am drunk as a skunk and sit up with adam for the better part of the night talking and giggling on air.

so adam icq’s me, and I haven’t heard from him in a long time. he tells me he’s doing another rendition of the razor blade hour and that it’s in memory of me. i have nothing else better to do on a friday night but get movies and order pizza, so i pop open real audio and listen for a bit to see if/when adam is on. adam starts yacking and i call the station. adam answers and he sounds happy to hear from me and i tell him i’m coming home for Christmas from December 24th – 30th. We make plans, I icq him my mom’s number and i get off the phone. when adam gets back on the air, he dedicates a song i picked (Everybody Knows by Leonard Cohen) to Miss Lisa, his number one groupie, in San Francisco.

And when I hear that, I realize how badly I miss home.

Things have changed since I’ve left, and I realize that. And I know I’ve changed a lot since then as well.

Within the last week, I received an email from my friend Dan in Texas. Now Dan rocks my world (Dan’s comments are either the single > or the non > spaces). See I did his website for him and helped him when things were getting tough between his ex-partner Chris. I told Danny that I would never charge him for what I did nor would I expect payment. But this past Friday, he sent me a check (which I feel is way too much) and he wouldn’t take it back. So Danny, I haven’t emailed you this yet, but, if you feel you need to make a donation to me cos I did your pages, please give it to a charity in my name. :)) Thanks!

So I read the letter and I almost start to cry.

Dan’s right in a way: I have a lot of things NOW that i didn’t have then. namely: brand new spankin’ 98 black Saturn, a job i’ve been with for almost a year, a place where my name is on the lease, and justin.

and maybe to some people, they would say “hey, that’s a lot! you’re doing pretty good” (especially if i can flash my IS title around), but to me, it’s settling. and it hurts.

there is a distance i have wondered

(reaching out, reaching in. holding out, holding in)
fuck, another sarah induced depression.

HELLALUHIA!

You know, for nearly a year, I have fretted, stressed and worried that everything that has gone wrong with my life resolved around the fact that it was because of  jeff.

And the startling realization I made was that it wasn’t about the fucker at all but about me!! I don’t miss what we had, I miss the person I was! I miss that sparky personality i used to have. where i didn’t care and where i lived life as fully as i knew how. it may not have been the best way or the right way, but it was my way.

i’m being slight unfair because i can’t blame him, but i can blame things have changed significantly in me since i’ve moved to California, and the person I was and the person i’ve become don’t mesh. and when someone takes your heart and smashes it to a trillion pieces and then tells you to get over it, you get fucking angry. and i learned, somewhere along the line, it wasn’t okay to get angry. holding in all this crap for nearly a year.

(but um, lisa, your constantly analyzing the situation)

sneeze

True. But read what I say and read that goddamn email. Can you NOT detect the difference between how I speak here and in that stupid fucking letter?

(insert about an hour later)

So i’ve spent some time reading my old letters i’ve written to people in the last few years. And i cried and I smiled and I laughed out loud when I read this:
“And food for thought, king bee, I would have never have emailed you unless you provoked it. If you want no comment from me, then you should have done, what I warned you to do oh so long ago, stay the fuck away. 🙂 Have a nice day!” (This little tidbit came from one of the most articulate emails i feel i’ve written in eons.)

“King Bee.” That just slays me. I started laughing so hard, I couldn’t sniffle from my damn cold.

And suddenly, I feel okay again. Sure, I was getting depressed reading all those old emails, and I miss the old Lisa, but I realized that with that much passion and fire, she was never really gone. She was just hibernating somewhere.
And my arguments with Justin early this evening seemed benign and trite. I went from a complete 180 degree course from wanting to break up with him to wanting to hold him tight and loving him forever.

And I think I will go do that.