There’s only so much disappointment one can handle in a week.

I’m waiting out traffic before I go back to work and reclaim my possessions from work Halloween. DEAR GOD am I glad that that is over with. As much as I like getting done up for something, I was fucking dying to wash my make up off all day.

Which got me thinking.

This morning, as I spent roughly an hour and a half getting ready, as I had so recently, it really got me thinking.

There’s something I find naturally pleasing about wearing make up, especially a lot of it to the point it hides your exterior flaws and highlights the good features. There’s just something really pleasing and right to me about wearing a mask, especially one that sits right on your skin like that. Because that’s what make up is, in more than one way. At least to me. There’s the cosmetic benefits, but there’s also the secondary distance you build between yourself and others when you’re doing something to highlight your beauty. Or so I’ve always found. Again I don’t totally know what the experience of an unattractive person is. I feel like everyone gets treated like shit for no reason (on a varying scale of frequency) no matter what they look like.

And honestly, even though I’m freakishly vocal on that subject (IDK, it’s the one part of my life I’ve always been okay with…so fucking sue me) I also like….am NOOOOOT the kind of person who uses their looks to their advantage. I mean, if I want to bang someone I’m going to attempt to present myself pleasingly, but like…idk, there’s a lot of people, women especially who learn too early how easy it is for them to get things/be treated well compared to others for no reason other than their accidental looks, whatever grab bag their genetic lottery pulled together. At least when a person is stupid toned you’re like…ah well I see you hit the gym while I’m on my ass on a computer which is whenever I’m awake, pretty much.

I haven’t written in SO LONG. This past weekend was fucked. When I wasn’t super happy and excited, followed by extreme bafflement and disappointment, I was working on fucking Halloween crafts. So burned out on like…my emotions, and crafting. I feel like my characters miss me. As fucking lunatic crazy as that sounds.

But.

Okay since I couldn’t control myself from returning the subject.

I figured out why I was so devastated about the N thing.

Yeah, I was looking forward to the sex. I mean, I couldn’t possibly be the only one who likes finding out what someone is like in bed. Plus, N painted a pretty promiscuous picture of himself, and the more sexual experience a person has, the better. Or so I’ve found with my HUGE list of partners. (It’s 10 dudes), the more experience the better. I imagine women are the same.

So, yeah, the sex. But also. Out of those ten guys….the first time I had sex with them worked out well in….two of the instances.

My first boyfriend would “always jerk off twice” before having sex so he would “last longer.” So he did that, my first time having sex ever, and then because he was on his third hard-on, while we were having sex, he kept losing his erection, going into the bathroom, coming back, again and again, until he came back in and just got dressed and didn’t say anything. We lied there in my bed in my parents house (the three of them were at a Tigers game) in silence until we left to see X-3 (the X-men movie from 2006) because I’d already purchased the tickets. I had to ask him on the drive over there what happened. He was a weird, weird asshole about the whole experience. As if it were SOMEHOW my fault. Also, looking back, who is like SO worried about railing some poor girl whose idiotically chosen you as her first partner? So fucking dumb. It was something he “had a reputation for” at his high school (we went to different high schools), this ability to last a very long time sexually.

I was far too young and naive and fucking achingly desperate to have a boyfriend, to have an emotional connection with someone outside of my fucked, fucked, fucked family. Of course I picked like….a TERRIBLE fucking choice….but whatever.

It just made me realize, as I typed this, that I can’t really stand it when I have to drag something out of someone. Like just fucking tell me. I thought we did that.

You know what time I remember dragging something out of my husband? July 2017, when a doctor’s bill in the mail alerted me to something he’d done a month before. Something I guess he was never planning on telling me about because he lacked the fucking balls. I don’t know how I would have behaved in that situation, because I never met a perfect stranger from Craig’s List for sex like he did. Then, I still had to drag it out of him when I couldn’t figure out what this doctor’s bill was for. He said he knew he was caught, and didn’t know what to do, and was panicking, which was why he tried to evade me at first. But, like I’ve said before, I could tell something was very wrong by how pale he’d gotten when he looked at the bill.

Then, just this past Sunday I had to do it again.

I guess I shouldn’t hold it SO out of sort….given that it seems to be typical male behavior, in my life. Which is funny…because….why?

But anyway.

Back to why I know I’m truly bothered by N and how that panned out, besides the fact that I was lied to, and that he did the world’s worst 180 in the history of date psych-outs. Those are things I will get over in time. Like now they piss me off. But I know how I feel about things that once made me angry.

What bothers me, what like literally hurts, as much as I hate that phrasing, is that I was able to be totally be 100% max Cassie around him…and it was totally fine…it was fun….it was SO fun he changed his mind about being able to sleep with me because it’d get too complicated because of an emotional connection. I’m paraphrasing his explanation that I had to fucking request. And like…because I could be myself…I mean that also involves letting your guard down, no? So it was the strange level of vulnerability on multiple levels…and like….at SOME fucking point, in the course of less than five hours….yeah…..just…..what….omg

So. IDK I guess I sound like I’m still pretty obsessed with this. It’s better than it was. I was still REALLY upset on Monday. Well duh there’s a huge ass blog about it.

But yeah. I realize, that that’s what truly saddens me. It such a rare, rare, rare, rare, rare, rare thing to find someone who can handle/be around/reciprocate max Cassie, as I like to call it. That that person is also a relatively smart guy I know from grad school who I could totally see myself fucking…I mean….am I NOT supposed to be into that? I mean really. I would love to take a goddamn poll. Ha that’s one of those verbal double entendre. But yeah don’t worry I still have plenty of sex. My husband has like a teenage libido. I think it’s all the testosterone from working out. IDK I’m not doctor. I don’t talk about my husband with my doctor best friend because she doesn’t really like him, from knowing about the shit he’s done. And she doesn’t even know about Craig’s List.

Well, that’s it. That’s why I’m still so obsessive and bothered by the N thing.

Zero idea how long it’ll take before I don’t feel bothered about it. Like I never do about anything.

All right, I’ve wasted enough time.

Peace

~Cassie

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