Just gtfo

It's that moment when someone tells you to stick something out but inside your head screams "get the fuck out now, now!"
It's the anticipation after a call is made to late or to many hollow suggestions are heard.
It's a ninth percent chance they are full of shit, yet every girl sits there and tells you to wait it out.
Maybe he is just unorganised? Busy? Out of reception?
Never do they say he is just full of shit.
But let's indulge shall we,
Option A: unorganised:
Will never be on time, never make solid plans or commitments ending in the awkward couple dates when your other half doesn't show no doubt.

Option B: busy:
Sexless, dull nights which result in you buying a cat and taking up knitting, your the perfect spinster in training.

Option C: out if reception:
Refer to option b

Option D: full of shit:
Gtfo and return to a life soaked in vodka, workouts, flings and indulgence.

Which would you take?

Spinster or gtfo

Comedians have it right

I wish I was a comedian sometimes.
Why?
I cope with my downfalls by seeing the humour in them, I wish I could articulate myself well enough to get others to share in what a disaster my life can be.

How many comedians can make living out of jokes about the slum they live in or erectile dysfunction they experience?

Then we could all share in my weekly experiences such as my epilator running out of battery... Did you know when it runs out of battery the clamp doesn't release?
I do now.

Suddenly asexual

Just watched an elephant give birth on tv... Imagine that?
Ten people surrounding you and a million more watching via tv all starring at your bijingo as it splits to the holy heavens.....
Dear god... No one needs that!

Diiiieeeettt starting today at 8am

Fatty fatty fat fat... The door ain't wide enough for you

Today I saw a full length mirror in a club...
My mirror at home has been dubbed a "skinny" mirror... I must have become comfortable with this... I am far from fit ATM...
Dancing to my guys exs new hit song I realise it is time to hit the tread mill of else I will become the Jubba the hutt of the comic below :(

One picture can change your perspective on everything

I never understood why guys got so excited over two girls making out. Today that changed.
I get it now. I totally get it.

Objectified

ob·jec·ti·fy (b-jkt-f)
tr.v. ob·jec·ti·fied, ob·jec·ti·fy·ing, ob·jec·ti·fies
1. To present or regard as an object: "Because we have objectified animals, we are able to treat them impersonally" (Barry Lopez).
2. To make objective, external, or concrete: thoughts objectified in art.
ob·jecti·fi·cation (-f-kshn) n.
ob·jecti·fier n.


In my experience it takes three times, the first you feel wanted, the second desired... The third used.

You'll know it's happened because not a single thought will be given to your needs unlike the first time and you will sleep alone yet in the same bed.

Try feel empowered when you receive nothing.

It doesn't work. I cannot justify such stupidity and naivety on my behalf.

Strangers make my single days

Don't you love when you are out having lunch and someone unbelievably attractive catches your eye... Why? Because they keep glancing at you.
What a wonderful way to spend lunch.
What a wonderful day:)

Smart is sexy

What is it about my city that makes men intolerably stupid?
Well not just any men, but men of the mid to late twenties bracket.

The last guy I was seeing was gorgeous, successful, travelling the world managing a band and amazing in bed (mind blowing) but every time he opened his mouth my cervix closed over.
Our time together ended with me losing it and telling him only a desperate thirty year old wanting to feel young again with out being a pedophile would find any enjoyment with him.
Of course that statement was after he asked me to pick him up in a cab and grab him a burger on the way.... Display of his stupidity.

The guy I have been on a few dates with now (like I said before) is charismatic, caring, sexy, naughty, successful and intellectually intriguing but when it comes to getting him to engage in a conversation I may as well just chat to myself.
He gives me nothing. It's beyond disappointing because he is amazing and I know he is so interesting.

What women have these men dated in the past?
I am of average intelligence and even I struggle to feel stimulated. Sure for casual sex in which they show up and then leave the next morning, no coffee, no conversation. Awesome! Be as daft as you want. But when going on dates...ARE YOU SERIOUS?

The guy ATM... He is bright, extremely bright. I can tell! It's like he is scared of using his brain in conversation... Like that would be the antichrist to my sex drive.
Do you know how many nerds I've almost jumped simply because their intelligence astounded me?

Where are these men who are bright, attractive and sexually driven??
Can I not have my cake and eat it too?
I can't maintain a relationship with a brick wall no matter how great the sex is. If anyone ever reads this... Please I beg of you, use your brain. Don't fear being a nerd or an idiot at least try to use what you have... People like a healthy challenge.

I hate phone calls, they are awkward, expensive and it's hard to catch someone if you call them.
Texts are free, accessible whenever and easy to reply too.

The person in my life who doesn't seem to get this is going to make me so mad!!! Even just a text before a call or request would make life so much easier.
Even my nanna can text! Rage

This picture perfectly sums up my first post. The 1000 words I could have not written had I had this image.

I have come to realise it is in my nature to mentally ignore my emotions while my body takes em on at full force. Heart ache converts to horniness, anxiety to relentless stomach pains, apprehension into poor co ordination.
Today I am a mixture of all of these. Until now consuming food was undesirable and my sexual frustration peaked with me going for three runs in the rain. I hate running.
Why? Because I always fuck things up. I begin to like something, actually begin to hope and then I fuck it up in anyway I can.
This time it was head in a toilet, ass up, poorly dressed, nervous and fugly fucking up.
I despise myself.
Now excuse me as I take my horny, in pain tripping over everything self back to work.

I'm going to buy a cat.

Life from 2012 till eternity

Fact, getting older means marriage and babies... Everywhere.
Every post, friend, party, shopping adventure.
Everywhere....
Feel old yet?

At very worst...

A single statement can determine the outcome of the night. The predetermined expectation is set as you simply describe the clubs desperate circle to the new comers.
"If you don't get hit on in this club something MAY ASWELL be wrong with you"

These words should mean nothing to me, the week prior I picked up twice in this club alone. Why would it matter? I'm now seeing someone, an ex is calling at the door... Is life not complex enough?

The new man.
Standing on the brink of something we do not perceive ourselves to deserve, one may find themselves baffled and screaming for self validation. Scanning the club for glances from a lustful stranger who will remind us we are desirable, behaviour which single handedly threatens the potential desire of the partner who ,in our own words, is far to enchanting for someone of our calibre.

Too myself, dating is an equation.
Two partners are always an equal... Whether its equal in looks and intelligence, or perhaps, just equal in any commonly desired characteristics such as humour, background, stability, personality and so on and so forth.
The maths consumes my head once again as a man enters my life ticking every box.
The intelligence, looks, life style, talent, humour and age... my cabbage eating, coffee addicted life can not compare.
I'm convinced after sex he will run, so why do I sleep with him?
I mean, he appears perfect but I am to wise for that, he will not call again I tell myself.
I'm sure I am one in a hundred (or in his case two hundred) and probably even ten this very moment so I expect to hear nothing.
But he calls the next day, and the next, even the next.

What absurdity is this?
What world have I entered in which a man says he will call and calls?

I express my confusion to my house mates, I ask "why me?"
Am I thankful? Well sure I am.
But the equation doesn't add up... I don't fit the formula for him, I am not an equal and therefore I can not sit here and honestly believe I am not about to be replaced.

Secretly I hope I won't be.

Back in the club I scan the dance floor for even a set of eyes to remind me I am pretty... I am something unique, even if that something is purely defined by my physical being.
I suppose this is asking to much considering I am wearing a plain t shirt and am soaked from the rain.
Even in a club that stinks of desperation the drowned rat look will get you no takers.

Alas, There is no antidote to my anxiety tonight, only time will allow me to know if my equation adds up as I predict it does.

Being single... It's a cocktail of men, some forgettable, some regrettable and at very worst some so addictive you spend your days waiting for a night to give into that desire again and again and again.

A few days earlier

Occasionally in life opportunities arise for us to taste something new...
A lifestyle so glamorous, carefree, divine... someone sits you down and intoxicates you story after story. The people, the parties, the unknown mystery. Its a lifestyle of drugs and rock'n'roll, the sort you imagined as a reckless teen on your bright pink bed spread watching almost famous. A life style you felt you'd long out grown but then the devil raise his finger and beckons you closer.
You find yourself sitting on the edge of the devils water being gently coaxed in, they'll call you things, desirable and dirty things which empower a hidden part of you,a part you never even knew existed. This venture alone will make you increasingly aware of what this will lead to but curiosity will take a hold and slowly your dark desire awakens.
You'll act as though transformed into someone who is child like, easily manipulated and mouldable into a fantasy that is anything but your own whilst all at once maintaining the outer image of a grown woman, objectified, not completely helpless but never forget, my dear, your brain has little function or reason here.
It's a lifestyle beyond your own and you must quickly adapt to it or suffer a complete fundamental metamorphism from the experience, a metamorphism which you can not return.
What will you do? Will you turn away and forever wonder what may have been? Or will you wade right in and pray you can protect your core values. Protect everything you are.

A few weeks on...

Almost two months since my last post, why? I suppose I found my emotional feet and lost the urge to vent my fears, or perhaps I vented a little to openly over a bottle or two of wine on the lounge room floor....well multiple floors on multiple occasions.
What followed the last post was a horrid three week binge in which my body became effectively a jar of pickled organs. Vodka, wine, bourbon, cider, yager bombs... Glass after glass. Night after night.
I became a woo girl (please refer to himym) and even for a while seduced an older man.
What is it about taking a lover that fills me with such a thrill?
I don't take lovers to define my worth or even in the hope that they will turn out to love me. I find a man, smile, flutter my eyes, screw him like an animal for a few random nights then drop him feeling totally liberated by my ability to a) act interested/innocent and b) be one of the few women I know who truly detaches themselves as a lover. I am liberated by the fact i am a complete soul destroying, bed rocking, man crushing succubus.
The other night I went as far as to take foreigner for a midnight trip around my city (however sexless) on the day my ex arrived home and two days after the man I was going to move state for confesses he loves me!

Why? Perhaps my exs untimely return reminds me of his distaste for my sex life. Of course it is not bad at all, I am moderate by today's societies standards but you see I had more then him... How dare a woman have slept with more people then her man.
And now he stands there telling me he wants to marry me... Me the girl he once called a "whore" who never left his side whilst we were together.
That's all a whore is though isn't it? It's our personal perception which is projected upon those around us.
O dear, o dear, o dear.
I am glad to announce however that I am starting a new course in July.... When one part of your life comes together, another part falls ever so spectacularly apart.