Celibate silence.

My number one frustration is losing the ability to put words together when I’m not intimately involved. I don’t know what happens, but at certain point my hands go still and my brain starts to overflow with the excess of adjectives I’ve run out of room for. I still choke on the details, I just can’t spit them out.

The current condition of my heart is disastrous, at best. Twisting in the wind for the man who tied you up there in the first place, sucks. Realizing that he enjoys my suffering doesn’t help me hate him, unfortunately. I couldn’t quit his pretty smile if I tried and it is the last thing in the world I want to give up.

But I’ve been prompting myself to move past this bad time and put these chaste six months behind me before I go blind from the frustration all this window shopping creates.


I went on a bad date. It was pretty wretched and I still have the stench of his cologne stuck in my sinuses. Its so funny how fickle the human heart is. McHotStuff could wear dollar store Old Spice and I’d fall at his feet in a puddle. Poor Derrick the attorney may have been in Yves Saint Laurent and I’m still annoyed. Something about these giant new boobs I bought, inspire the worst in some men. Derrick had a litany of questions and I snuck out the side door when he was in the bathroom. Sorry, not sorry. I’m not sitting through another date with anyone who can’t carry on an appropriate conversation for five minutes. My body is not up for discussion on the first date and if he’s lucky enough to make it to a third, we’ll discuss the volume of my implants. Yeeesh. apparently class isn’t something they teach in law school.

I weeded my garden, finally! It’s still weedy and overgrown, but the vegetables are getting bigger than the weeds and I’ve had spinach and radish salad for dinner every night this week. Juggling a half acre garden and a full time job is a little stressful and definitely stands in the way of any personal life I may want to have. A-fucking-men. I couldn’t be happier than to avoid the penis-folk entirely and if it’s one thing I can’t grow, it’s dick.

I’m stuck, sad and hopeless in a lot of ways. I can’t see around or past how I feel and that’s incredibly frustrating. I found a great therapist who’s done her best to shine a light on the whys and how’s of it all, but I still just find myself thinking about him. Some afflictions are bone deep and I feel like I need a transfusion to get him out of my veins. When you know all there is to know about someone and love them even more as a result, it’s difficult to turn a blind eye to it and walk away. It’s damn near impossible when walking away isn’t an option. How do you swim in the details and not drown? I’ll let you know if I figure it out.


I think this lesson is more about consequences of rash decision making on my part. I have learned the hard way enough times that I should have known better than to think I could be casual with someone special to me and not get involved. Getting involved emotionally IS my superpower. Hell, I get emotional about the dandelions blowing away in the wind without first being wished upon.

I’m just that girl and I always will be.

For the first time in my life I’m celebrating that instead of apologizing for it. ♥




One of the main tenets of conquering addiction is admitting that you are powerless over it. Submission offers the promise of relief from the suffering.

Except when it comes to Mr. McHotstuff.

I’m down with submitting but more along the lines of scratching this miserable itch than in hopes of getting him out of my system. Everywhere else I look, there’s a willing man smiling back at me…. all except the one I want so badly.

So I’ve given up. I’m not even trying to hate him anymore. It’s futile to try to ignore how beautiful he is. Something shifts when you don’t fight it anymore and I’m at least sleeping again. I’m searching for the silver lining but honestly I just want to sit down and cry.

I wish I could unknow this. I wish I could wash this need off. I catch myself wishing on flower petals and stars, sending my biggest wish up for help.

Because most of all, I wish he were mine.


I’ve distanced myself from my friends and haven’t talked to my family in a while. I’m trying to put myself back together again but it seems that I left a few pieces in his pockets.

I make a point to look on the bright side and this has taught me a lot about myself. I’m learning to be kinder to the parts of me I don’t like, and this incredible man has taught me to speak up a little and say the hard things out loud, right to his pretty face. Instead of crying about it and resenting him, I look him deadass in the eyes and say exactly what I want.

J- I love you, but stop being so pretty. You’re hurting me.

He blushes…. and I’m stuck in wet panties again. Good Lord.

I’m admitting that I’m powerless over this wretched situation and breathing through the frustration of it all, but my God… somebody help a girl out.

I’m ready to bribe his friends to help me, some of whom are reading this. You know who you are. Name your price. 🙂

I’ve sufficiently ghosted every last Tinderboy and hung up my heels. I’m not wasting anyone’s time until I’m coming from an available point of view, and I don’t know a time I was less available. I’m not about to spread my suffering around, so I’m getting the garden weeded and some booties knit, instead.

Dirt and yarn, y’all. There’s magic in both that can cure what ails you.

I hope.