“You’re gonna want to strap yourself in for this next one.”

Does anyone know what show that quote is from? Well, it’s a different context this time anyway. My BFF is on her way in right now, she should be here in like an hour I think. She’s ubering in from the airport because she knows me well and knows I do NOT want to drive to the airport, as I never have and I avoid stressful driving situations at all costs.

I have some time to kill before she gets here, and since I’m in a good mood and am getting really stoned (because she can’t smoke or be around it because she’s a doctor and all and they get drug tested like McDonald’s employees). And I wanted to tell you guys about this rando situation I once I had in my life.

But I realized, I never told you guys about Doug. And no, Doug is not his real name, but it’s close enough I’ll be able to remember who I was talking about.
I have what I like to think of as a very embarrassing history with him. We went to high school together. I was into him freshman year, and pretty much every year from then on. But, at the beginning of junior year he started dating this unattractive psycho in our grade. For the life of me I will never comprehend how this girl was always raking in dudes and I wasn’t. Like truly if you could compare our faces and bodies YOU would be stunned too. And don’t say it’s my abrasive personality, because HERS was worse. They were off and on all psycho like through junior and senior year, also I think after for a year or little less. Then all of a sudden, when I’m like 19, she’s engaged to someone else. I’m not saying I didn’t have things happen with other people, but i was always into Doug on some level the whole time. We had what I would call a mild flirtation going. We would talk on AIM. One time, I showed him a picture of my nipple piercings (when I was in high school, when he definitely was dating loonypants) and he said, and I quote, “Exquisite breasts.” It’s nice hearing, on any level, even in AIM.

So when I was 19, I do what anyone would do who was still hung up on this guy, once his ex SEEMED out of the picture, I started talking to him. This was the early 00s so we talked on AIM and on Myspace. This lead to eventual hanging out. We bonded a lot over smoking weed together, which I was already super into, so that was cool for me. In my defense, I always really liked this guy, in my mind he would be insane not to try and move on for real with me, when it was OBVIOUS things weren’t going to work out with you know who, despite her inability to actually let Doug go (SHE was free to be engaged to some dude she’d known for 4 months but if Doug showed interest in anyone she was quick to find some way to sabotage it. And he was like dying for any attention from her, because they had that weird fucked dynamic happening, so it would work).

So, Doug and I hung out, and got really stoned. This one time, we were alone at my apartment (I was 20, I had broken up with my terrible world of warcraft boyfriend about 9 months before that) we were really baked and we watched the movie The Number 23. After it was done, we had some sort of conversation that involved “what do you want to do now?” “I don’t know what about you?” “We could make out.” That last one (said by him) was almost a question.

Then, you know what happened. After awhile on the couch, HE suggested we go to the bedroom, but he did certainly ask. He carried me there. I can’t help it, I’m basic and female when it comes to how wet that shit gets me. I know it’s not fair to the MANY (most) men who couldn’t carry me any sort of distance. It’s not like I fit into the any sort of model-thin category, so I don’t expect men to have these unobtainable fitness abilities either. But…yeah….I mean I did weigh a lot less back then…but anyway…..

So yeah, we had sex once. but honestly the first time was disappointing. Because despite being the aggressor, if you will, when we finally got down to it, he was all “Should we really be doing this?”

Okay, I honestly had no idea what to think at this point I’d never had a guy get to like…the fucking point of insertion (sorry, graphic, sorry) and be like “Oh wait no this is a bad idea omg we should stop.” Like I’d only had sex with first idiotic jerk boyfriend (the one who took me to my senior prom but didn’t get me a corsage and then guilted me that me couldn’t afford to go to his prom because of mine, that’s the kind of guy HE was…) and then WOW boyfriend, and neither of them were sexually aggressive, at all, but they didn’t want to not do it when we finally were at that point I mean OBVIOUSLY I thought we should be doing what we were doing….I mean…yeah IDK.

I don’t remember what I said to him, that first time, but we had sex for like….2 minutes, then he lost whatever erection he’d managed to maintain. Then there was some REAL awkward getting dressed, made all the more awkward when he started touching and kissing me. I mean I wanted him to, but  I was also like…uuhhhh didn’t you just COMPLETELY puss out on me? I mean cmon. This is a frustrating situation, right?

So he left. We had a few more awkward sexual encounters at my apartment. Once, I recall donning a full lingerie outfit for him, one I’d specifically bought with the idea of seducing him. It was the most effort I ever put into getting a guy to bone before.

Now, looking back, I see how fucking pathetic I was. I really do. But, honestly, it wasn’t coming from a bad place. I liked Doug. I always had. I’d always been pretty up front with the fact that I liked him. Of course I wanted to sleep with him. I don’t mean to dwell on physical attributes, but this guy had a great dick. I mean just one of the ones that makes you want to put up with ALL their annoying/bad behavior (I had a similar issue, years later, with R). I really just did want to like be with him. But, at time went on, things got ABUNDANTLY obvious that nothing like that would ever happen.

What bothered me the most about all of this was that I couldn’t see WHY he wouldn’t be into me. I mean, like really….it confused me. It still kind of does. I still feel like I’m a solid catch. People should feel that way about themselves AND their significant other. I jokingly seriously told my husband his ability to grow good smoke put another huge one in the PLUS column. He needed another one over there. The other giant one is quit drinking for me. That’s pretty huge. But anyway back to someone who my husband reminded me of and that’s why I at first showed almost aggressive interest in my husband because I was like omg what if this is another Doug I can’t let this get all fucked and ruined somehow like that did. I have never told my husband this. But really if anything he should be grateful Doug was so shitty to me, I guess I deserved it?, because it made me REALLY cling to my husband when I met him. And look how that worked out…after like…7 shitty years….but anyway.

Two memories of Doug that stand out most to me. One good and one bad.

The good one. It was the winter when I was 20. He messaged me on AIM and texted me about hanging out (it was a Sunday night) which must have meant he was really in the mood, because hanging out almost definitely meant we’d bang, at this exact point in our situation.
I drove out to his house (his garage specifically, though to class it up a little, his garage was a makeshift den) which was a long, perilous drive in the winter. We pretty much got right down to it, but I remember sitting next to him on his couch, beneath a few blankets because it was the winter and it was a garage wondering how long he would wait to make the first move. It was awhile.
But that sex was the best. It was kind of like cliche movie sex in the sense that it took place transitioning from like five different positions and ended with him “unknowingly” coming inside me (condom broke….he acted like he didn’t notice until after we were done…but he kind of acted like things sure felt different…if you get my drift). Nothing happened, I was on the pill. But yeah the sex in his garage was the best.
My bad memory of him was almost that same winter. Everyone in the tri-county area was dry (as far as weed goes), but I managed to get some from a coworker who had ties with some dealer.
Doug found out I had weed, and could get more, via a random AIM conversation, which we had from time to time. He was also definitely hanging out with other girls as well by this point (it was easy to find out about back then, on social media). He makes plans with me faster than he’d ever done so in the past, and arranges to get $60 worth. I get his amount and mine from my coworker, and have it parceled out ($120 split evenly into 2 bags). Then, when he gets to my place to “hang out” (clearly only happening because I can get him weed) he hands me $40. And I was still too into him, I didn’t want to subtract what I could eyeball to be a third of what he was getting, but that’s what I should have done. but I didn’t want to be awkward or look like a bitch, so I just ate the financial loss. World of good it did me.

Then, we had sex I think once after i moved from that apartment into the house i was renting with a friend when I met my husband.

Truth be told, I was a total cunt to Doug via text like two different times. Both resultant of adderoll/alcohol/nicotine abuse, but I never told him that. Why? Would it really make a difference? Also he kind of deserved it.

Then, years after all that, after my husband and I moved downstate, his band was playing at a venue nearby and we went. He seemed happy enough to see me.

We did that a few other times, his band travels around the state quite a bit. I doubt they’ll ever amount to much, but anyway.

But then one time, I saw on Facebook that he was playing at a venue VERY near my house, so I proposed he stop by either before or after the show and smoke with us. Keep in mind, whenever we saw him at a show of his he always said something about how we should get together and smoke down. All of us still love weed. What a shock. It’s almost like weed’s the best.

But then the night of that show, after I’d already contacted Doug and he’d seemed like he wanted to do exactly what I proposed, I fell asleep on the couch and when my husband finally got home he couldn’t rouse me. But then Doug never contacted me either.

And then, THEN, I was like….ohhhhhhhhhh The slow realization of it all dawned on me.

He probably kind of hates me.

He strikes me as one of those guys who never gets over a slight.
But he’s also like a genuinely nice guy (when he’s not sexually entangled with you) so he always acted like he was happy to see me. Because it’s easier than being an asshole, it really is. I get him there.

I just feel like a total idiot, because I probably always came off as some clingy psycho.

Or at least, that’s how he treated me. And made me feel. I guess you’re not supposed to blame you emotions on other people…but seriously….

But now, I’m really trying to focus on the idea of Remembering the Lesson, not the Memory. It’s a smart idea to live by.

Truth be told, I always liked Doug. But, I can see why on his side he probably can’t stand me. So I just kind of feel bad, like just have the balls to tell me you don’t like me. I’m used to being mistreated so I like…don’t know what to do with it sometimes. Or i put up with it because I know I can.

Like, okay some of the insufferable shit I’ve done to him? In 2015, when I was strung out as fucking fuck on alcohol (this is when things started with R), I texted him about the whole situation. This was also the year I stopped speaking to and seeing my parents, ever. I was THAT sad and lonely and desperate, I texted Doug. I’m sure it must have pained him to sound sympathetic, when he probably thought I was getting what I deserved for being a crazy bitch. Or something. IDK. I’m trying to see it through his perspective but I find I can’t. Which is odd, because I can do that with most people.

But in some way I’m kind of proud of myself that I bothered to reach out to anyone. The fact that that two people I tried talking to more or less just rejected me, it reminded me of who I am. Things like that happened the few times I tried telling adults about what was happening. Do you realize how hard that is, for a child in that situation? If that doesn’t warp you, what the fuck will?
Being reminded of who I am came slowly, though. It wasn’t until I really accepted to myself that R was a complete human disaster and a waste of my time and energy and a drain on every part of me. I mean I’d always known that, but I also at one point had a good time with him, so it was hard to completely reject.

But now, I think about this habit I had/have where I’m like almost infatuated with the situation if I’m being treated like shit.

Like at almost 30 I’m just not getting to the point where that’s not the norm.

So anyway, that’s Doug. I hope he’s doing well. In some way I’d like to apologize for annoying him with my attention. I should have given it to someone smart enough to appreciate it.

~Cassie

Real quick though – don’t let the weather influence your mood…it’s the weather

Where I live, it’s been raining nonstop the past few days, and now the temperature keeps dancing just below freezing enough to freeze rain as it falls. Everything is covered in this really neat glass-like coating:

IMG_9313

 

Isn’t that cool looking? And EVERYTHING is covered in ice like that. I only went outside because I had pole class today. There was only 1 other student, and there’s always 2 instructors, so there was an even number of students and teachers, so that’s always cool. I guess some people stayed home because of the weather. I for one was outside scraping my car in gym booty shorts because I was not about to miss pole class. It’s once a week as it is. I have a pole at home, but having an experienced instructor is SO crucial. The pole videos on youtube aren’t my thing, and none of them include a warm up… but anyway

 

Isn’t nature doing cool shit right now? Although today is a day that I am even more grateful than normal that I’m not on social media. I would be wasting so much time scrolling through everyone I know whining about the weather, talking about how they thought it was the middle of April…not January….bleh bleh bleh. I can’t stand whining. And I don’t know, I guess I’m such sturdy German stock, and I’m from such a dismal cold weather state…it just doesn’t faze me. If anything I kind of find it exhilarating. Plus, like I pointed out, it looks awesome.

So, my weekend was fairly normal, pole class on Sunday, whole lot of writing and house stuff on Saturday.

But this week is extra fucking special. I go in tomorrow and Tuesday to work like normal, but then I’m off Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. AND, as an extra fun bonus, my best friend (yes, the one I always talk about) is flying in on the morning of the 19th and is leaving my place to visit her mom on the morning of the 21st. She and I haven’t hung out for that long in a row since I spent a weekend at her place in Chicago two summers ago. Then before that it’d been the wedding. Usually we see each other a few hours when she passes through on her way to visit her parents. So this is extra freaking thrilling. I’m off of work 5 days in a row, and two of those I’ll be hanging out with my best friend. So I’m really excited about that. Now I’m going to have spend all of Wednesday cleaning my house so I’m not embarrassed by the state of it while she’s here, but other than that, this is going to be tight. Then…of course, I turn 30 on Friday…yikes.

I have a few things planned, like there’s a brewery by me that I’ve always wanted to try, and a breakfast place that’s always too busy on the weekends but is supposed to be legendary. There’s two different book stores I’ve always wanted to check out. Also one of the nights, probably Friday night, I want to go to a gay video bar in a downtown near me that I’ve been to before. Gay bars are the best. The dudes are usually nice, or at most just ignore you. No one is all rapey or gropey on the dance floor,  but they’ll still totally dance with you. Some of them buy you drinks because you’re like…there and a girl or something….idk it’s a great time. And they always have like softcore porn playing on a few different screens. It’s fantastic. So hopefully we can do that too.

Hopefully she doesn’t want to go shopping. I hate shopping. Don’t get me wrong I like having the stuff I get from shopping…but I don’t like being in stores. I wonder why….

 

So, this will be a fun work week because it’s so short. Then, fun long weekend.

Then, hopefully, Shakespeare Behind Bars just a few weeks after that.

Besides pole dancing, I haven’t done anything fun in quite a awhile, because we couldn’t afford to do anything, so this will be cool.

Anyway, sorry to anyone having to witness weather-whiners on social media. Big peeve of mine.

 

Peace

 

~Cassie

Superstition is for idiots

I’m not stranger to bad things, but they can’t be caused by a day. When my husband worked at a cemetery, he was convinced something bad was going to happen, just because he was so associated with death and death planning, etc. I had to out and out tell him that nothing could be mystically caused by his employment. Working somewhere doesn’t invite death into your life. Like, I believe in certain spiritual things…but…not that. Nor is any given number unlucky.

Anyway, what I really wanted to write about was something my husband said last night. Many times I go to bed before my husband. He’ll always come in and say goodnight to me when I do so, which usually involves spooning with me for awhile. He accidentally falls asleep with me all the time. Which is part of his charm.

Well last night we were doing exactly that. I said something about how lying there like that, before falling asleep was the best. Then my husband said, “If anything ever happens to me, I want you to know that I’ll still always be right here.”

And, hearing it last night made me cry. Writing it now is making me cry a great deal more. The idea of that memory coming back to truly haunt me, it’s enough to make one cry. At least me.

Because, I mean, what made the problems we used to have so devastating that my husband is really all I have. I mean, think about how alone I am, except for him. I mean it’s all right because we really are one of those couples who spend all of their spare time together, and we enjoy it. In an almost embarrassing (in the sense that it sounds SO trite) my husband really is a dream of mine come true.

Why? How can I say that, knowing what you, my astute readers, know? Well, see, when kids deal with intense mental/emotional stress/trauma, if there’s one odd fringe side effect its the concept that they tend to be very realistic about their expectations of life. Which is why my brother’s sense of entitlement REALLY confuses me….but that’s a discussion for a different time. Plus, remember how I said TV raised me and helped me (along with literature) to conglomerate my own mental parents who raised me, because my real ones were…well…I’ve told you…? Well, when you grow up in the 90s (I was obviously born in 88, I’ve been going on about my 30th birthday IN ONE WEEK for awhile now….and yes ahahahahah my birthday is 4/20 isn’t that ironic, by the way the grow turned out great) you learn a lot about how relationships between white people can go wrong. I recall thinking that I wouldn’t care what random problems I had with my significant other….as long as I had nothing like a relationship my parents had. They NEVER did anything together, in fact it was like they avoided each other as much as possible, unless my dad was high/drunk an in a talking mood, then he’d either go into her part of the house and turn the TV off to lecture her, or just call her out into his room with a TV, where he’d preach to her just like he did to his kids, with the TV on mute so he could be heard but keep watching it. But anyway. I always thought I could handle anything as long as I got to be with someone who genuinely loves me. Because I saw, firsthand, so painfully, what happens when people who do not fucking love each other AT ALL stay married. My mom told me she told my dad, word for word, “It’s like you hate me.” And he really does act like that, like literally all the time. Like he is constantly criticizing her, or just ignoring her, not paying attention or repeatedly checking his watch whenever she’s trying to talk to him. She just wants a happy relationship. He’s done the worst things a spouse can do to their partner. And still she stayed. She’s always trying. She’s such a (passive) nice person. EVERYONE says so. She has a horrible time at work because her coworkers are shitty people who know how to manipulate/take advantage of her, and they fucking do. Predators are everywhere man. I know because I dealt with absolute garbage people at jobs of mine in the past. People who  think because I don’t react with extremely inappropriate and immature behavior, like they do, I must be SO easy to push around, to mock (especially to my face). Plus like…I’m the right level of attractive, would-be alpha females (looks-wise) are going to see me as a potential threat, best to take her down a few pegs.

I think that’s how I make people feel. It’s something, something that I do that makes people treat me like shit. And not appreciate me. AT ALL. And take me COMPLETELY for granted. Like you have no idea how horribly I let people treat me when I was younger. I don’t know how to describe the exact cause of it, but I feel like it has something to do with a chaotic/unstable foundation. Good thing I was smart.

But anyway as you can see, I witnessed a living nightmare every day of my life because of my parents. My only ally would have been my brother, but he had his own reasons to be a shitty person,  I guess. And, I was NOT good at maintaining relationships as a child, with friends, or later on with guys. So I always thought if I had a REAL marriage one day, one where we loved each other…I would get to see what a happy home/family could be like.

I mean that’s really all I want, or ever wanted, out of life. The whole being a writer thing too, but that’s always just been a part of me, like since I learned to read. Now here I am, experiencing it. I mean granted we don’t have kids yet, but I’m 29 I’m sure I’ll have at least 1. Hopefully 2, because I never liked only children when I was a kid.

But, to be honest, I’m just really afraid most of the time, that something horrible is going to happen. Like I feel like I definitely have cherophobia.  I have no idea if that’s real, because I’ve only read about it on Pinterest.

Or I feel like I shouldn’t let myself be too happy, because it won’t let/is going to get ruined. Well, I guess, if I think about it…it’s because when I was young EVERYTHING got ruined. It was a power move on my dad’s/brother’s part. Maybe that’s what’s up with that.

 

 

But anyway, this was not to go on about my childhood again, it was to let you know that despite the many horrible memories, the terrible things I talk/write about on here….my husband and I do truly love one another. We’re both incredibly fucked up too, so there’s that.

 

Anyway, gotta jet.

 

~Cassie

I should be editing, but here I am on effing WordPress

Not complaining, just kind of annoyed with how my mind works. I was all pissy last weekend because the holiday ruined my ability to get any writing done OR go to pole class, so that was a bummer. (Speaking of pole – I now have one installed in my living room! I am SURE I will post pictures later, but this is going to be a more depressing blog, because, IDK it’s been awhile, I’m not just sex stories and weird shit and selfies and pot and pole dancing and writing a weird sex novel. I mean in large part that is a bunch of my personality, but that is definitely not all. I’m also severely addicted to caffeine, but that, to me, is almost like a wholesome addiction, given what I’ve done in the past) But now instead of using my entirely free Saturday to input on-paper edits (the ones I do in my car, that I KNOW you remember from my other post WordPress is clearly for selfies)

But, instead I got like a little too high, now I’m like lost in thought and it’s hard to read TINY print. Why did I use 12 size font. I mean I know why, it’s so I can be arrogant about it. But I’m still annoyed.

Okay I thought of what my worst trait is. It’s actually not the many, sundry emotional problems, it’s my inability to manage fucking money. Like. I’m very confused as to what I’ve been doing wrong, but I clearly an see that it’s something. It’s kind of my special brand of pathetic, but sometimes I mentally console myself with the idea that it’s probably for the best I’m not pregnant yet, because we really don’t have the money. But, on the other hand, I really don’t think I should let the fear of debt stop me. I didn’t with school, and now look where I am. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I am so significantly happier now than I’ve ever been in my life. To be honest, things weren’t really all that good with my husband until we both stopped drinking…and that was only like two years ago, and we’ve been together for 9 (in July).

I just feel like if I could somehow not be in debt and actually like have my shit together enough to own a house and a car that isn’t ten years old. But whatever, my car from 2008 still runs fine, and it was a gift from my Grandma, she just paid outright for it, with a check. And, if I did get pregnant, my mother in law already offered to pay for our day care, because she didn’t want fear of not having money to stop us from having kids, because we’d be great parents.

So that’s what I actually wanted to write about. Did you catch that I just described too monumentally generous older women in my life? Like. I mean. Sometimes you have to see God where you can, right? And I’ve had two great trading-outs in my life. One was when my best friend moved from our hometown to a city about two hours away to attend state school. I knew she was leaving, and about two months before she left I met my future husband, indirectly through my best friend. Then, pretty shortly after we met, we were dating, and I met my future mother in law. My Grandma died when I was 23, I think. Right after her 93rd birthday. I’ll be honest, at this point in my life I was just finished with undergrad and had a really severe drinking and adderoll and cigarette issue. I was so damn skinny. God I miss that. But not the other parts. And, the day she died, I was really strung out and fucked up, and when my mom called to tell me what happened (we’d all been expecting it….in fact, the reason I didn’t go see my Grandma right before she died is because I didn’t believe my POS dad when he told me she was dying because he’d literally said that about 40 times before in the past three years. My mom was always so disgusted with him during any of those given times, as my Grandma’s health got worse and she went from in-home care to a nursing home to a memory care nursing home, because he would seem downright excited) she didn’t ask me to come over. And I was glad, because my car had a flat tire and my then boyfriend and I were too drunk to deal with it.
Well, as you can tell, all of those were wrong moves. i see that, but you’ve got to understand a few things, this is MY family. not a stable, normal, functional family. And, I don’t know, I can’t remember exactly, but this was either right before or right after the FIRST time I tried not speaking to my dad. I know it was during the three year stretch we lived at this white trash apartment complex behind the mall in my husband’s hometown. I am currently in the midst of my second and actual attempt at cutting all ties with him.

So  I do find it interesting when my best friend and my husband like traded out, like almost in a comically obvious fashion. Then, my whole childhood, the only reason I ever had anything extra (so, things beyond the minimal amount of clothing necessary to live and a place to live and food to eat and being sent to school) had to come from my Grandma. She paid for all for my homecoming and prom dresses. She bought me a computer when I was in high school…you know…the one my dad threatened to destroy with a hatchet, mostly out of infantile jealousy?
Then, when my Grandma was in a very expensive nursing home and all of her money was gone and she had to move to a few different shitty ones at the end of her life, I met my husband’s mom. Because he lived at home when we met, I actually met his parents like the second time I ever hung out with him. I remember quite distinctly that his dad was delighted with the idea that I’d gone to a Lutheran high school. I was like…well…guess I get some benefit out of that awful experience.

And  my mother in law has been my sole source of clothing and shoes, for the most part, since I’ve met her. She routinely takes my husband and I on a big shopping trip, usually about twice a year. Last time, there were 6 new pairs of shoes. Other times, it’s a new batch of work clothing. She’s unbelievably generous. I was raised way too white trash to be that kind of generous, with people I know, myself. I have a few charities in mind for if I ever make real money as a writer. I mean it’s possible. There’s a vacuum I can fill, I just know it. But anyway.

I’m not trying to brag, obviously. That is literally never my goal. I mean when I try and talk about things i like about myself or my life, it’s really me doing everything I can to not be negative or depressive or complain or whine. Because I seriously fucking hate it when other people do those things.

Which brings me to my favorite charities, as of right now – There’s Free the Girls. They enable women in developing nations (like I know Guatemala was one of them…then I think definitely also some in Africa? I don’t feel like fact-checking) who have been rescued from sex trafficking to run their own business. Women in this country donate bras, and the other women sell them. I cannot explain to you why, but there’s this one like info-mercial about FTG and it ALWAYS makes me cry. A lot. Thinking about it makes me cry. I literally do not understand this trigger, but I really am aware of it.

And the other is called Shakespeare Behind Bars. I get annoyed when I tell people about it, because the name makes most idiots laugh. But it’s a program that has inmates in male prisons put on productions of Shakespeare once a year. It’s open to the public, in the sense that you can apply for a ticket and undergo a background check and attend if there’s enough space. My husband and I are going this year. I got the email that enrollment was open, and they’re doing A Mid-Summer Night’s Dream this year, and I was like meeehhhhh I really want to go, to my husband, and he was like…well we can probably make it happen…. So fuck it why not.

Which I guess that ties in with my first stated issue of knowing my worst flaw is how bad I am with money. Because if I have one element to my personality, it’s a total “fuck it” vibe towards spending money. I mean that’s why we’re trying to have a kid, despite our sort-of financial dependence on his parents. Which feels insane that that even has to happen, because we make a collective $40,000 ish last year. Does that NOT sound like enough for two people to live on? But no, seriously, it’s not somehow. IDK. I’m aware you can pay for advice on this sort of thing. We have Quicken once, I did not like using it. All it did was point out where we spent all of our money. Like I know, I just feel like I can’t control it from happening.

But, anyway. We’re growing our own green now. I’d post pictures, but I don’t want to make anyone jealous. It’s a very small grow, obviously, because our rented house is tiny. Renting a 3 bedroom where we live is $910 a month. Do you realize what kind of mortgage payment that would be? BUT, what are we supposed to do, pull a down payment out of nowhere? We can’t ask his parents for THAT kind of $$, we already ask for enough, on top of the things they give us on their own, which is a lot. It’s ALWAYS been a make enough to just get  by situation. And now, it’s been years since we stopped wasting a ton on beer, and booze, and cigarettes, and I constantly drank soda, like I would stop at a convenience store a few times a day for one. So disgusting. Now I’m all about black coffee and La Croix, because I’m old and need to watch calories. But anyway.  AND we’ve gotten WAY better at not eating out, or getting fast food. We almost always eat dinner at home, with things purchased from a grocery store. I’m gotten VERY good at feeding us cheaply, but still pretty healthily. Speaking of health, I’ve FINALLY started losing weight. I’m sure I’ve mentioned a few dozen times how my old drinking habits did not mix well when I finally got a desk job. I gained at least 30 pounds that first year. It was terrible. Again, I’m lucky my mother in law buys me clothing, because I went through a huge fluctuation from my earlier years of shopping with her. But, I am finally starting to lose that weight.

TO that end, like i said at the beginning, yes, we have a stripper pole now, okay, I cannot resist a pic, especially since the living room gets good morning light. IMG_9251

Yeah, we had to put it in our living room because that’s the only spot with the most space.

And guess what. My husband was INSTANTLY really good at pole. He can climb, already. He could do every spin I could remember how to show him. It’s because he’s so obsessed with pull ups, and doing shit like climbing trees or brick walls for fun. Pole is pretty much a rope to climb, but you can have a lot more fun with it. He can’t Iron-X off the bat but he’ll get there, I’m sure. I’m so jealous. Like if he went to class, he would show me up so hard on his first day. He really likes it, which I find funny.

So, IDK, maybe we’ll move back up north and open a pole studio. He DID take eight years of dance class. If I was working full time at a regular job and insuring us, I think we could handle running the studio. If it was profitable enough, we could both work there full time. I just know this whole situation we’ve got going on right now is kind of lame. Plus my husband has always struggled so much with finding a well-paying job that he doesn’t detest.

So maybe I’ll be writing a novel and dedicating a lot of time to pole fitness. There’s enough tutorials online, and now I have a pole at home, and a really in shape spotter.

That’s one thing…his job right now is really grueling, and it involves 4 months of being laid off in the winter, but he is SO cut from it. Like it’s weird being like…wow, that’s my husband’s body. He’s getting like PERFECT ab definition. It’s not fucking shock he’s so good at pole, right away, like first time he tried. And I mean, he was just rail-skinny when we met, then he got REALLY overweight for awhile there. He trimmed down for the wedding but I remember the picture of him from the night he proposed his face looked faaaaaat. I’m not being mean, I would totally say that to him and he wouldn’t be offended. He knew how big he’d gotten. And I mean, the way he is now is obviously nicer. What can I say. But now I’m like….thank God I’m so facially attractive, or people might wonder why he and I are together when we’re out in public.

But anyway, I’ve wasted quite enough time on this.

Hope all of you are doing well.

 

~Cassie

I told you about my whole open marriage thing, right?

That’s the line I’d use, in my fantasy scenario (with 1 of the 2 men on my “Free Pass to Fuck” list that I keep current with my spouse, I know his too, I think his has 2 people on it too?).
We’d be drinking in a bar, discussing some profession matter that had brought us together in this new place to begin with. I’d be feeling bold after a few drinks, probably too many knowing me, am I right guys? And I’d say something about something that gave away from hint that my husband I walked a little more on the wild side than maybe we seem, what because we’re boring lower middle class Lutherans and all. But then there’s the weed. And the occasional swinging. And the side piece I had for like a year. And then all of the drama attached to our horrible problems with alcohol, luckily long gone due to sobriety.
But in this fantasy, alcohol would play a huge role. Because I know I would need it to be uninhibited enough to go through with asking my subject/question/title.  I would ask, then judging from his reaction, go from there. Maybe, I would touch his leg under the table. Maybe the bar we’re in is across the street from a hotel. I tell him to get a room and text me the number, I’ll come prepared. When in truth, I’d packed condoms hours earlier when I was getting ready, when I was just nurturing the minor hope I’d get to spend some quality alone time with him. He texts me the number. I’m there as fast as I can be.
Need I go on?
Honestly, out of the two guys on my list, lately I’ve really only been feeling the one, and he’s been on the list WAY longer than the other so I think it’s only right for it to be that way.
The one I’m less into is the one you know about already, I’d say I’m at like 30% for this dude. In large part because I know that in reality, the chance that I would EVER actually bag this dude is like…..0.00005%. Like, I’m nearly certain that this guy has only ever had sex with his wife, which means sex is a big deal to them. Which means the likelihood that they would be down with swinging (and by they I mean her, because it’s usually the woman you have to win over, am I right?) is SLIM. It’s a possibility, I guess, but I would probably surmise that it would never happen. (This one is the Coworker, as I like to call him, and that’s all you’re getting, he’s someone from the massive company I work for)
BUT, the one I’m really into, the one I don’t think I’ve ever REALLY gotten into with you-all, lets call this one the Professor. He is one of the professors I had along the way, through maybe my Bachelors, maybe my Masters.
The Professor, I was really into him from the start.  I remember seeing him, on one of those hot first-day-of-the-semester afternoons, and feeling my heart race before it even sunk in how cute he was.  And then, OMFG, the way he taught! It’s like he was trying to be a fuckable as possible, I swear to you. He was just SO into it, and SO funny, and SO encouraging of ideas and possibilities. I was by far more vocal in his class than I was in any other, and that’s saying something because I was always notoriously silent in other classes. Sometimes, in that first class, he seemed a LITTLE more engaging with me if I wore a slutty outfit. I don’t mean that derogatorily, because I would never speak of myself in such a way, but I would wear what I call a slutty outfit. A pair of knee-length black legging type pants that REALLY made the shape of my ass noticeable (it’s nice, trust me) and a low cut (sometimes VERY low cut) dress that stopped just at my hips. Then of course my make up was always especially wild back then, when I was young and brave and in love for the first real time in my life. Oh, also, of course, I would go to EVERY class with him just blazed out of my mind. It was an afternoon class, right? Like twice a week, I think. And I would have a long break beforehand. I would eat, go home and smoke the fuck down, then drive back to campus for his class. I just had such a good fucking time going to this class completely toasted, talking with this truly delicious, brilliant professor. I’m still so fucking into him, looking at his LinkedIn profile made me wet. I’m sorry, I know that might have been a bit much for some of you, but it’s the honest fucking truth. I feel like I’m some horny gay dude on the inside. When my book is published, you’ll see what I mean. But, instead of being born a gay guy, I’m this hot chick with all these weird emotional complexes, but also way better T&A than most girls get. Plus I’m all smart and talented and ONE DAY I’ll be able to say I’m good at pole dancing. Not right now, I’m still bad. My instructors try to encourage me to do shit I know I can’t do and I’m like “No, I have doubt my leg can hold my whole boy like that,” and they’re like “oh, don’t have doubt,” and I’m like, okay but really though I don’t want to die….
SO ANYWAY. Such an enjoyable first class inspired me to seek out the Professor two more times for a class while at the school he taught at. When I did his final student review at the end of that last semester, my last one at that school as a whole, I wrote that I felt honored and privileged to have him as a professor. And fucking sappy as that made me sound, I fucking meant it. I really did. It was very lucky of me to get to have him as a teacher twice.
And, okay I’ll give something away, I had to ask the Professor for a letter of recommendation once. And when I did so, it involved meeting with him in person. Part of the conversation steered towards discussing what I would want to write about in my doctoral thesis (If I got that far). He said something along the lines of “You know, you would want to go with something along the lines of ‘I’ve always been fascinated by the strange, the exotic, the beautiful,'”
Then, when he said that, as he said it, as we were alone in his office by the important Department People, which he is one of, it kind of dawned on me that he was mentioning the things that he associated with me. I smiled at him in this, hmmm, how do I describe it, this kind of “Did you really just say that?” kind of smile, and he literally looked down and turned red.
He was known for turning red while teaching. It was just one more endearing thing, like when certain things made him tear up (you could almost hear the *sploosh* at that point…if you watch Archer, you just got my joke…if not, omg watch Archer its good and its on Netflix).
So, we had this like…moment….way back when, in 2012 when I asked him for this letter of recommendation. I would call it that.
I was his Facebook friend, back when I had Facebook. He liked two statuses of mine…if you can imagine I certainly noticed and kept track. But now all I have access to him through on social media is LinkedIn, like I already mentioned.

So I still have all of these really specific fantasies about the Professor. Lately, a lot of them have been linking up with writing my book. Because I mean, is there anything wrong with linking up goals? I want both things separately, to varying degrees, but should I not use one to instigate the other, if I can?

Sometimes I wonder if he would be into it. Or if I should not force it, just let it happen naturally.

In all honesty, men, help me out here, would you want to hear from a former student who wanted to have sex with you?

See, my husband would be aware and all right with all of it. It would be an affair only in the sense that he’d be having sex with a married woman. The lying and cheating would be out of it.

Is that the sort of thing guys want to get in on?
I think the answer is, some guys. Or is it most guys?
I’m pretty sure this guy is straight.
He thinks I’m exotic, beautiful and strange.
I’ll take all three of those, that’s cool. It’s actually very insightful of him.
Like that kid from grad school who said I “seemed like a swinger”

So….should I try and pursue having sex with this guy? I love achieving sex goals. I mean worse to comes to worst, I get rejected. It’s not like I’d ever have to see him, if I didn’t want to. Sadly, I have no reason to go to the town where he lives and works. He’s in my hometown. Where my parents are. No reason to go there.

…..Part of me is planning on reaching out to him when I have a really polished draft, and asking him to edit/read/review it for me. If he said yes….my god just the thought of talking about that with him….yeah I’ve pretty much got a play by play porno of whole thing in my head at this point.

 

See, is this the sort of thing a guy would be into? Or would this just seem obsessive and stalkery and weird? It probably depends on the guy, right?

Right?

 

Ha, well anyway, I just wanted to talk about him, because hey, you never know what the future may hold, maybe one day I’ll be like omg guys guess what I actually fucked the Professor.

What a fun day that would be.

okay, dinner time. hope everyone had a fun weekend. I wrote and ran errands and cleaned and went to pole dancing class. The usual.

 

~Cassie