Yesterday while I was crafting a poem, and I say crafting instead of writing because it was borne from poetry magnets--lots and lots of poetry magnets; my God, I don't understand why I have so many poetry magnets--I came to a realization. I can't share that realization with you because I think I'm going to turn it into an actual an essay, the kind I used to write when I cared about such things, but I can tell you it's sort of a big one, at least to me. I can also tell you that having four days off because of Labor Day and the hurricane gave me some time for reflecting on recent events which means it's update time, so now you're going to have to think about them, too.
The first order of business we'll take care of is
That Wacko from Creep Who I Thought Disappeared
A couple weeks ago I got a message and a friend request from some random guy on the same site where the lunatic from Creep and I met. If I didn't block him last week, I'd show you our messages for the sake of both accuracy and laziness, but I did, so I'm going to have to actually think. His name was Jay, he was 26, and for maybe fifteen minutes, he was pretty charming and cute. We talked for maybe four days total except one of the middle ones we didn't talk at all, and the only reason we talked on the third day is he messaged me saying something about how I'd disappeared. The first day he said something about wanting to--and I quote--own a slut (end quote move to paraphrase) because his fwb got into a relationship and they weren't seeing each other anymore, and when I asked him why they were only fwb, he said something like, I didn't really want a relationship and honestly, I still don't, to which I replied, But you want to own a slut? and he said, Well, the way it is on this site like tell her who she can and can't fuck, and I was thinking, Dude, that is not the way this world works no matter what kind of site you think you're on, but instead of saying that, I just didn't reply.
Two days later Jay messaged me telling me not to disappear. I told him I got distracted. I also told him that he seemed like a really nice guy, but I wanted him to know that I was already seeing people and not looking for anyone else and didn't want to waste his time. He thanked me for my honesty, and I thought that was the end.
That was not the end.
The next day this guy, this fucking guy who I barely talked to but had the decency to be nice to and honest with despite the fact that he contacted me when he was shopping for a slut, messaged me and said, and I kid you not, Well, it looks like you fucked me anyway. Now, normally I'd just let it go, but I have to tell you, I am just so over guys thinking I owe them anything at all that I couldn't. I told him I wasn't here for any sort of male entitlement he might have--I think my exact words were, Dude, I am not here for your male entitlement plus maybe some other things I don't remember--and his reply? I hope you never have the Popeye's chicken sand which, [sic] and well, this is where things get strange.
A somewhat paraphrased/sometimes exact transcript:
Your wish is granted because I don't eat meat.
Now you're not only an asshole, you're a lying asshole.
Ummm why would I be lying? Lots of people are vegetarians.
I don't know one.
That's probably because you're blue collar.
Don't assume things about me, asshole.
You don't know one vegetarian and you can't spell the word sandwich. It's really more of an inference than an assumption.
I know for a fact you're not a vegetarian.
Dude. I haven't had chicken in over eight years, I said, but let's for a second pretend I had. He knows for a fact, well, anything about me at all? What? That's not weird as fuck.
END SOMEWHAT PARAPHRASED/SOMETIMES EXACT TRANSCRIPT
The two of us went back and forth for longer than I'd like to admit (sometimes I really just like to be mean to people), moving from his assertion about my being a meat eater to how much money he thinks I make as a teacher and why I shouldn't dare call him blue collar to his asking me for my phone number about three times.
You got me, I said. I constantly eat meat and make no money at all.
Good. Now that we got that out of the way, why don't you give my your number already? he asked.
Wait. Is this, like, you trying to establish dominance? I asked, and I don't remember what he said, but it was something about it not being that but that he had to let me know I couldn't treat him that way, something weird enough for me to go back to his profile to look around. This is what I saw:
One photo on one extremely new profile. No friends. No interactions. No About Me. No nothing at all. Something was definitely amiss, and I'm pretty sure weird incel guy was in the midst of it.
Blocked.
Now, this next update is a little awkward and weird, but probably not any more awkward and weird than I, and plus I've actually had a few people ask me about this, so it looks like there's no getting around talking about
My Vaginal Health and the Removal of my IUD
Well, first of all, you'll all be happy to know the removal went swimmingly. I went in for my appointment, waited naked from the waist down for about an hour or so, lay down for my doctor, felt a tiny bit of pressure, said Ow! and there he was showing me my IUD. It was as easy as that. While we talked birth control pills, he handed me a pad, but I was bleeding so little I didn't even put it on, and when I left the office, I went straight to Publix where I picked up my new prescription.
I'd love to tell you it's been all bunnies and unicorns and rainbows in my vagina from that day out except not really because holy crap would that be a freak show, but you get what I mean. I can't do that, though, because despite not bleeding for the first couple days, after my second day on the pill came the blood and when I say came the blood, I mean it gushed. I thought it was just going to be a normal period since I hadn't had one in so long, but I bled for probably ten days, and I didn't just period bleed, like that rosy pink that leads to red and then turns rusty brown, I crimson red bled and every time I thought I was done I did it again. It did eventually stop, though, so that was great except the blood wasn't the only thing that stopped--my desire to have sex did, too.
Okay, people who read my blog, if you question anything about me at all, I'm betting it's not my interest in sex, but when I tell you the pill had an effect on it, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph did the pill have an effect. After about two weeks I called my doctor's office and was like, No, no, no, MC, this cannot be, and we tried a new pill. After about a week things started returning to normal, but I'm not super sure if it's the new pill or circumstance. I guess time will find out.
And the PH balance? Some days I feel okay, and some days I don't. I guess we need time for that one, too.
Hmmm. I think it's possible there's not much more for me to report on but okay, fine, we'll talk about
How My Happiness is Panning Out
My happiness, I'm happy to report, is still around, and I'm even happier to report that two or three days ago, I wasn't happy at all; in fact, I was in a horrible mood. I know, you're thinking, Why the fuck are you happy that you were sad? Or mad? Or whatever negative Nelliedom you were visiting? and well, that's exactly why; I was visiting negative Nelliedom, but I didn't move in! I tend to go through wild extremes--wild, wild extremes--with my moods, and usually when I fall, I can't get up, at least not without some outside force, but this time, I got up, and I did it all on my own! I'm not sure how I did it except that I'm pretty sure music and dancing played a really big part and this is where I should maybe mention I have a music and dancing problem, and it sounds like a silly problem, I know, but like I was telling Griffin yesterday, it really takes a toll because I turn on music, and it makes me happy, and when I'm happy, I dance, and it literally keeps me from getting anything done. I was supposed to make my students a quiz yesterday but I couldn't stop dancing long enough to do it, and I was supposed to grade papers but I danced through that time, too, and I was supposed to write this blog but I couldn't sit for long enough to do it, and well, it looks like happy dancing is both saving and ruining my life and maybe too much of a good thing really exists and now that I think about it, maybe mania takes different forms, one form being that of
Magnetic Poetry and the Realization I Can't Talk About
While I can't talk about my realization and while my poem is only crafted and not written, it definitely ties into the updates about all things Kis, and so for your reading pleasure, lovely people who read my blog, I'll leave you with this:
Amen.
The first order of business we'll take care of is
That Wacko from Creep Who I Thought Disappeared
A couple weeks ago I got a message and a friend request from some random guy on the same site where the lunatic from Creep and I met. If I didn't block him last week, I'd show you our messages for the sake of both accuracy and laziness, but I did, so I'm going to have to actually think. His name was Jay, he was 26, and for maybe fifteen minutes, he was pretty charming and cute. We talked for maybe four days total except one of the middle ones we didn't talk at all, and the only reason we talked on the third day is he messaged me saying something about how I'd disappeared. The first day he said something about wanting to--and I quote--own a slut (end quote move to paraphrase) because his fwb got into a relationship and they weren't seeing each other anymore, and when I asked him why they were only fwb, he said something like, I didn't really want a relationship and honestly, I still don't, to which I replied, But you want to own a slut? and he said, Well, the way it is on this site like tell her who she can and can't fuck, and I was thinking, Dude, that is not the way this world works no matter what kind of site you think you're on, but instead of saying that, I just didn't reply.
Two days later Jay messaged me telling me not to disappear. I told him I got distracted. I also told him that he seemed like a really nice guy, but I wanted him to know that I was already seeing people and not looking for anyone else and didn't want to waste his time. He thanked me for my honesty, and I thought that was the end.
That was not the end.
The next day this guy, this fucking guy who I barely talked to but had the decency to be nice to and honest with despite the fact that he contacted me when he was shopping for a slut, messaged me and said, and I kid you not, Well, it looks like you fucked me anyway. Now, normally I'd just let it go, but I have to tell you, I am just so over guys thinking I owe them anything at all that I couldn't. I told him I wasn't here for any sort of male entitlement he might have--I think my exact words were, Dude, I am not here for your male entitlement plus maybe some other things I don't remember--and his reply? I hope you never have the Popeye's chicken sand which, [sic] and well, this is where things get strange.
A somewhat paraphrased/sometimes exact transcript:
Your wish is granted because I don't eat meat.
Now you're not only an asshole, you're a lying asshole.
Ummm why would I be lying? Lots of people are vegetarians.
I don't know one.
That's probably because you're blue collar.
Don't assume things about me, asshole.
You don't know one vegetarian and you can't spell the word sandwich. It's really more of an inference than an assumption.
I know for a fact you're not a vegetarian.
Dude. I haven't had chicken in over eight years, I said, but let's for a second pretend I had. He knows for a fact, well, anything about me at all? What? That's not weird as fuck.
END SOMEWHAT PARAPHRASED/SOMETIMES EXACT TRANSCRIPT
The two of us went back and forth for longer than I'd like to admit (sometimes I really just like to be mean to people), moving from his assertion about my being a meat eater to how much money he thinks I make as a teacher and why I shouldn't dare call him blue collar to his asking me for my phone number about three times.
You got me, I said. I constantly eat meat and make no money at all.
Good. Now that we got that out of the way, why don't you give my your number already? he asked.
Wait. Is this, like, you trying to establish dominance? I asked, and I don't remember what he said, but it was something about it not being that but that he had to let me know I couldn't treat him that way, something weird enough for me to go back to his profile to look around. This is what I saw:
One photo on one extremely new profile. No friends. No interactions. No About Me. No nothing at all. Something was definitely amiss, and I'm pretty sure weird incel guy was in the midst of it.
Blocked.
Now, this next update is a little awkward and weird, but probably not any more awkward and weird than I, and plus I've actually had a few people ask me about this, so it looks like there's no getting around talking about
My Vaginal Health and the Removal of my IUD
Well, first of all, you'll all be happy to know the removal went swimmingly. I went in for my appointment, waited naked from the waist down for about an hour or so, lay down for my doctor, felt a tiny bit of pressure, said Ow! and there he was showing me my IUD. It was as easy as that. While we talked birth control pills, he handed me a pad, but I was bleeding so little I didn't even put it on, and when I left the office, I went straight to Publix where I picked up my new prescription.
I'd love to tell you it's been all bunnies and unicorns and rainbows in my vagina from that day out except not really because holy crap would that be a freak show, but you get what I mean. I can't do that, though, because despite not bleeding for the first couple days, after my second day on the pill came the blood and when I say came the blood, I mean it gushed. I thought it was just going to be a normal period since I hadn't had one in so long, but I bled for probably ten days, and I didn't just period bleed, like that rosy pink that leads to red and then turns rusty brown, I crimson red bled and every time I thought I was done I did it again. It did eventually stop, though, so that was great except the blood wasn't the only thing that stopped--my desire to have sex did, too.
Okay, people who read my blog, if you question anything about me at all, I'm betting it's not my interest in sex, but when I tell you the pill had an effect on it, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph did the pill have an effect. After about two weeks I called my doctor's office and was like, No, no, no, MC, this cannot be, and we tried a new pill. After about a week things started returning to normal, but I'm not super sure if it's the new pill or circumstance. I guess time will find out.
And the PH balance? Some days I feel okay, and some days I don't. I guess we need time for that one, too.
Hmmm. I think it's possible there's not much more for me to report on but okay, fine, we'll talk about
How My Happiness is Panning Out
My happiness, I'm happy to report, is still around, and I'm even happier to report that two or three days ago, I wasn't happy at all; in fact, I was in a horrible mood. I know, you're thinking, Why the fuck are you happy that you were sad? Or mad? Or whatever negative Nelliedom you were visiting? and well, that's exactly why; I was visiting negative Nelliedom, but I didn't move in! I tend to go through wild extremes--wild, wild extremes--with my moods, and usually when I fall, I can't get up, at least not without some outside force, but this time, I got up, and I did it all on my own! I'm not sure how I did it except that I'm pretty sure music and dancing played a really big part and this is where I should maybe mention I have a music and dancing problem, and it sounds like a silly problem, I know, but like I was telling Griffin yesterday, it really takes a toll because I turn on music, and it makes me happy, and when I'm happy, I dance, and it literally keeps me from getting anything done. I was supposed to make my students a quiz yesterday but I couldn't stop dancing long enough to do it, and I was supposed to grade papers but I danced through that time, too, and I was supposed to write this blog but I couldn't sit for long enough to do it, and well, it looks like happy dancing is both saving and ruining my life and maybe too much of a good thing really exists and now that I think about it, maybe mania takes different forms, one form being that of
Magnetic Poetry and the Realization I Can't Talk About
While I can't talk about my realization and while my poem is only crafted and not written, it definitely ties into the updates about all things Kis, and so for your reading pleasure, lovely people who read my blog, I'll leave you with this:
No comments:
Post a Comment