It’s like I need to blog, so I hope you’re happy

I literally don’t have the time for you, WordPress, but I was driving home today and I couldn’t figure out why I was in such an angry fucking mood. The same thing happened to me at work today. I was like well I haven’t blog-complained in like two weeks…maybe that’s it.

To be honest my 30th birthday really sucked except for the fact that I got to hang out with my bestie, which was awesome. But like the brewery and the bookstore we went to both sucked, I didn’t have the energy for the club and she can’t smoke weed so that was an obnoxious hassle. Nothing makes you realize how deep your stoner level is than when you’re SO irritated from two days of having to smoke in the other room.
I wish I could lie and say that part of me was hoping my husband would have had something special planned…I mean I knew it was a long shot, but…I mean milestone birthdays come once every 10 years….but whatever. We were broke ALL winter because he of course had to find a job that only works eight months out of the year. It’s a step up from unemployment but…not really…

Okay, see? I’ve been so fucking bitchy today. And I know why. My husband’s sweet Grandfather passed away last Friday, so we’re going to the funeral tomorrow. I’m just psyching myself out about having to see his family. Because, let me tell you, being as I am, at his family reunion, I’ve noticed patterns to behavior:
1) My husband will act much more on his impulsive, teenager-ish, annoying, long-winded impulses. The way he put it to me was that he “feels compelled to keep talking.” It’s SO annoying because….how can you not read people who want you to shut the fuck up? Like it’s like he reverts to his younger self because he spent so many young memories with his dad’s extended family at their reunion (always held at the same inn in Indiana, a place my father in law hilariously thinks is nicer than literally any other place the family could have a reunion. His words. They’re all so fucking German when it comes to that, they have this way of presenting their opinion as fact then using underhanded ‘logic’ to support why they’re making a ‘logical’ choice and you’re not, wait did I just describe fascism kind of?).
2) His mother becomes extra EXTRA if you know what I mean. She “feels like an outsider” at the reunion, I guess because it’s not her family (gee I don’t know how that feels) and because she’s a second wife and HER kids usually aren’t there, or if they go it’s for one day not the whole annoying week. Like a few years when we haven’t been there she’s called my husband really emotional/crying over how she’s being treated by everyone at the reunion. She’s been going for the last 25 odd years. These people.
3) His extended relatives are all cold but polite. They remind me TO A T of the Lutheran church quagmire into which I was fully and unwillingly immersed throughout my first 18 years.  The people would never be openly mean or hateful or rude, but BOY believe me when I say they find their special passive aggressive ways to convey their disgust with you as a human being. I am not exaggerating at all. I have vowed a few things, one is that MY kids won’t be able to have jobs until after high school, sweet internships aside, and they will NOT be involved with any youth groups. And these people are as white, middle class, middle of the road, conservative as the Lutherans from before. The high school I went to was certainly one of the reasons my father in law liked me at the start.
4) It’s a waste of time, I’m literally miserable the entire time, everyone acts like a horrible strung-out version of themselves, I never get to do any of the fun shit, or if I do it’s NOT fun because other people ruin it – for example one of the last times I was there I said something to ONE person about how I was going to go for a walk after breakfast, silently I added “alone”…..EVERY woman in the family ended up going with me. Then later that day I was meeting my husband by the beach (it’s a lakefront inn), I text him where to find me and wait…and wait…and end up spending the ONLY time we had available for the beach alone reading East of Eden because my husband was a few hundred yards away with some relatives of his, head in the clouds as always. Like it’s just always a HUGE suckfest from beginning to end and that is NOT because I go into it pessimistically. I purposely strive for the opposite.

But, all of that coupled with my last memory of the reunion and everyone at it….and how my husband acted. Like that was and is seriously one of my worst memories of him, because the was RIGHT before I told him I’d have to divorce him if he didn’t stop drinking, because he clearly wasn’t capable of controlling himself. I think that might have been the last “big event” before I did that. Of course, he’ll blame his behavior at that particular reunion in part on my situation with R, which was happening then. But….do you get to blame your drinking on shit like that? Like REALLY horrible things can happen to a human being, that doesn’t mean they’re not the one going out and buying booze every day to cope. I never did.

That’s one of my biggest flaws I’m SUPER fucking arrogant about the things I have (in my mind) earned the right to be arrogant about. There’s not controlling it. I know they say arrogance breeds from insecurity…but insecurity, stemming from a lack of security, like while growing up, like you weren’t at all taught to value yourself, somehow? Yeah, that sounds right. So that just proves my point more.

Well, I guess I feel better. Hopefully my exposure to the asshats tomorrow is short-lived. They do this LONG, drawn-out, long, pointlessly long, group hugging/group goodbye/group send off, DID I MENTION HOW LONG IT TAKES, and it makes me want to cut myself with a butter knife because you have to hug THEM ALL. I hate it so goddamned much. My fuck how I wish my husband could feel how much I dread being around these people. Who he thinks are great. Because he’s trusting and dense like his parents. I find it endearing in my husband, though. I mean, he has a vicious cunt like me around, so I don’t think anyone’s taking advantage of him….least not when I have my way. Best example, my dysfunctional sister in law.

Wow since dysfunctional is annoying to type, from here on in my husband’s two sisters are Dys and Able. Able sums up the other one real nice. I mean she can also be a bitch, but that’s never been reason enough for me to dislike someone.

So IDK if Dys is going to be at the funeral, SHE’S not a member of that family though of course she sat in on those family pictures at the wedding….and her own (the mom’s side) it really irritated me. But, I pray she isn’t going…..she’s just fucking bad juju man, like the personification of spoiled milk. I just can’t. It’s straight disgusting how reliant and codependent Dys was when I met my husband.

And the reason why I do what I do works is because I don’t like command my husband to do anything, I don’t even tell or suggest….I point out. It took VERY little outlining for him to see how little an impact he made on Dys’s decision making….yet she still called him for his advice EVERY DAY. She HAD to call him every night when she was driving home from working a shift at the strip club, and tell him all about the horrible shit she’d done or just how horrible her life was. One time she called him because there was a can of Dr. Pepper in her fridge and she wanted to drink it and she needed my husband to talk her out of drinking it. THAT is the level of annoying I receive from Dys.

So I’m dreading tomorrow and am in a horrible mood. But i guess this helped.

 

Isn’t it funny how you could read this and be like…wow this is definitely a predator slowly isolating their spouse from family. I know that’s what bad people do, because it’s what my father constantly tried to do, with extended family and friendships, for my mother and my brother and I. It’s because it’s easier to try and control someone if no one is around to call you out on it/convince them you’re abusive/help them escape/etc.

The difference is I’m pretty self aware (see, arrogance) and also control is NOT my end game. The end game is being with someone I don’t feel like needs controlling because they’re functional on their own. Truly this is not too much to ask.

So tonight we’re driving three hours to a hotel, sleeping, going to the 10am funeral, then hopefully leaving by 2pm at the latest so we get home about like a regular work day, because it’s back to work on Thursday like nothing happened. SO pumped.

Gah I’m a bitch.

Anyway

~Cassie

30th birthday/420 weekend recap

The title says it all. It was great seeing my best friend for longer than three hours between her driving from her place on her way to her mother’s. She got here around 12pm on Thursday. But then she was gone from like 1-4, so I’ll count from then on. We went to a grocery store to stock up on the random things i needed to make Mai Thais (then, in total this weekend, we made one mai thai, I made her one at the end of the night with almost no rum in it…because we’re old now…anyway) and this fun alcoholic coffee drink I like making. Then when my husband got home from work on Thursday around 7 we went to a brewery by me that was disappointing. But then we came home and ordered astoundingly good pizza from a specialty award-winning one-location-only pizza place by me. So that saved it. Then we went to bed after a few more drinks.

Then Friday on my actual birthday we got up somewhat early, after my husband had left for work, she and I went to a breakfast place I’ve always wanted to try, but it’s always so busy I never try to get in on the weekends. That’s the first picture. What’s hilarious, what I didn’t notice happening at the restaurant but my bestie did, was that there was a couple sitting near us, and the girl got jealous/mad because either the guy said something about us/one of us being hot, or she caught him staring at us, because she said really loudly, in a voice meant for us to hear it (I didn’t hear it because we’d just gotten our food and I was like…devouring that…) she said “Oh that girl? Right over there by that waiter with the tattoos? Oh, she’s too gothy for ME.” Idk which one of us she meant, my bestie has dark hair, but I have a bunch of rando ear piercings.

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See, I told you we were real cute. We always have been! Anyway….I LOVE how, even a little hungover and unshowered, we’re still making this rudeass person in the breakfast place petty as hell. Mwaahaha bone structure.

Then part of Friday was spent running the boring errand of getting my paycheck from work and taking it to the bank, because LORD forbid we have direct deposit…..Anyway.

Then we went back to my place for a few hours. BFF got some cardio in, because God forbid she not do that for one day. Then she and I got ready. Then around 4pm we hit up a book store I’ve always been meaning to look into, but never got around to going to because they close at freaking 5pm. It was a disappointing book store, to say the least.
Then we went back to my place to wait for my husband. He gets home from work around 7pm. Then, we finally got to the Mexican place I wanted to hit up for dinner around 9. Then we’re there until almost 11pm.
I’d wanted to get all done up and hit up a gay club, like I told you guys, but then I was REALLY tired by the time we got home from the restaurant, I was like I don’t want to go pay cover just to buy expensive drinks and want to come home the whole time. So we only took only more pic:

 

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Then Saturday morning she left to go with her aunt to visit her mother in our hometown. Then I did NOTHING on Saturday. Like I did our laundry. And I SAT on Tinder. That’s right, I started a Tinder again, this time under my alter ego, Cassie. That’s right. AND, I managed to nail down a situation that i think will work out.
I won’t say the guy’s name because I don’t want to be rude about confidentiality, but he lives near enough and is the same age as me, and is very interested in being the bisexual interloper we need for a MMF threesome. I mean, that’s what I really want out of life, and my husband is also very into the idea. And he likes the guy I found. BUT, the guy said he can’t meet up until the weekend after next, sigh, so we’ll see if things hold up that long. Sometimes it’s easy to forget about Tinder convos am I right?

I’m a little embarrassed I had SO much extra time off, and I didn’t write any more than normal…but oh well. I had a good time doing nothing, swiping left, slowly wooing this one cute guy for my husband and myself….It was a good time. He sent a dick pic and that’s a good situation, so that’s awesome.

So, the last thing I did this weekend was get done up to do some photos. As you know I have an at home pole, well enjoy below, one is me on my pole, I’m not rich enough to have the video support plan…sorry y-all. Then there’s another one of me because I did my hair AND make up and wore a fancy new pole outfit.

Then the last picture is me having a mai thai by myself, in comfy clothes, as i know my bestie suffers at her mother’s house in our hometown. I feel for people who still speak to their parents. That sounds real tough.

Anyway, I had a good 30th birthday and long weekend off from work, I really do appreciate that I had my best friend and husband with me for it, as I have for so many now. I cherish them both and my relationships with them. I’m sure my 30s will be great considering how fucking bad my 20s were by comparison, right?

Hope everyone had a good weekend. My birthday gifts were my pole, and like 12 edibles, and a new bubbler that makes me feel like a wizard when I use it.

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 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

Feeling compelled to compile positive memories

In an effort to be supportive, my husband has been reading a 61 page partial draft – it’s 61 printed pages, so that’s 153-214 book pages, depending on sizing and format and shit. He told me the first day he delved into it that he couldn’t believe how much the portions he’d already read are improved, and that he wanted me to write something for him. He said he wanted something other than “gay island sex” which…okay fine there’s a lot of that, but the entire world the book’s set in is two different island nations…but that could be the United Kingdom, right? So don’t automatically think Fire Island. Anyway.

I wanted to write about positive memories I have of two people who mean a great deal to me. It hadn’t really dawned on me to do so, that maybe this is the sort of thing that’s good for others to have, one day.

My husband cherishes me in an odd way. He told me once one of the reasons he wants to have kids soon, because he wants to have them with me specifically, and you never know what the future holds. He said the same thing in the context of my writing for him, that he wanted to have some of my writing in case I was ever gone. I guess you could be snide and say that he sounds paranoid and morbid. But, at least to someone like me, it’s really, really sweet.

Omfg, we got this Double OG and it’s got me so high I’m crying. Do you realize the last time I cried for non I’m-too-high-right-now reasons is past my conscious memory? I’m glad I’ll do it when I get too baked and think about something really emotional, like how my husband and I both being terrified by the idea of not being able to ever see or speak to one another.

And, if you can imagine, being me and all with all my weird fucked up-ed-ness, it’s never once even dawned on me to say some of these things to these people.

1st, since I knew her first, is my best friend. You could argue we were our closest the first semester of senior year, and then for the eight months I was dating one of her roommates who was also her fiance’s best friend. Those eight months happened when we were both going to college at the same university, the state school that’s in our hometown, so we had the cause and the means to hang out like four times a week. If not more.

When we were tight in high school, we would always go to taco bell. Literally never any other fast food, but that one all the damned time.

When we were in college, it was Olive Garden. I don’t even like their food, but we smoked and Olive Garden was one of the last places to allow a smoking section, back when that was a thing. Neither of us smoke anymore either. She’s a doctor now, FFS.

So my best friend and I would work out at the school gym after class, then get dinner at a restaurant neither of us could really afford afterwards. We both worked full time and went to college full time and still made the time to date fucking losers who were three years older than us.

I guess you could call it a trashy memory, but it’s a good one.

 

For my husband, I will always associate him, in some way, with the summer. We met in June, and were officially together around Bastille Day (which is July 14th). So every first memory is framed by a warm summer activity.

The town we met in may have been way up north, as they call that area down here where we live now, but it was pleasant enough. There’s a bridge downtown, we’d walk there in the middle of the night, walk to the center of it, and sit and watch the water move past. We were on it at one point during our wedding night, but lets not go there.

We’d go to one of the nature centers and walk a few miles out into the woods then get high off a joint rolled with those strawberry rolling papers (red with black seeds to look like the surface of an actual strawberry) that don’t exist anymore, because they were marketed towards children? Idk

We’d rent whole seasons of TV shows from Blockbuster (wow, I really don’t mean to keep mentioning obsolete shit, but here we are) and get takeout from a chain that’s only up north in our hometowns and watch half in one sitting.

We loved each other then. We love each other now. We’re good for each other…now. Before neither of us were good for anybody. No matter what has happened or might in the future, I know that’s all true.

 

 

Well, that’s a wrap on that.

In other news, I am proud to say that I for ONCE have plans on a day everyone else has plans – tomorrow, that is. My husband wanted to go back to his hometown for the day because his long time friend would be in town from college. I was like, I should see if my friends from back when (all three of them) want to get together. It’d been two years since I bothered to go up and see them so they all said yes right away. Plus I gave them like a week’s notice.

So it should be fun, I think, to see them. I’m hoping I can drink without getting shit canned. We’ll see.

I have pole dancing class on Sunday. I’m so excited to yet again by far be the worst one in the class. I can’t pull up my own body weight. It’s humiliating. I weigh a lot. What can I say. But, everything I’ve read online says you pretty much have to get a pole for at home to become any good because you need to practice that much. So, whenever we’re financially able, I’m going to get one. If nothing else I’m sure I’ll have one by my next birthday, which is one month and four days away, because, if I haven’t mentioned this, yes, my birthday is 4-20. Hilarious, isn’t it? Also, it’s either ironic, or the least ironic thing on the fucking planet. I can’t figure it out. ALSO by my birthday, our first crop should be ready. You have NO IDEA how long (okay it’s 11 years) I’ve been wanting to grow my own weed. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH MONEY WE’RE ABOUT TO SAVE.

So, that’s what’s up with me lately. I feel like my husband and I have been doing a lot of creating or attempted creating lately. Which is good, if you think about destruction as the alternative, which we were soooooo good at doing before.

Anyway, peace. Here’s a picture of me writing, with my trustiest, bestest kitty, Oscar. I promise I will post pictures and video of me pole dancing when I’m not a disturbing embarrassment out there. writing pic

~Cassie

By now you can probably tell what happened

I have this selective inspiration, it’s been fucking with me since high school. I get my first job, and only on the awful days I had to work 4-9 after school would I feel the genuine rush of inspiration necessary to try and write eloquent thought at 16. In college, much the same. Of course I was working much more by then, but when you spend roughly eight months out of the year in college full time, when you just have to work full time during the summer, it’s almost like you’re on vacation…and I would go entire summers without writing a fucking thing…only to be DYING to the second the fall semester started.

So as an adult, I would have to come up  with something really clever to get myself to actually write, right?

Well, maybe I did it.

Because one of the obnoxiously fucked things about me is how I’m really good at putting in whatever effort I need to to exist and provide for myself and my cats, but deep down I’m perpetually disappointed with how lazy I am. And how fruitless and pointless MOST things seem. But mainly that first thing. And I’m a special sort of fucked, from my dad’s side to be certain, where I’m always going to sabotage myself a little bit. It’s like they’re all the same sort of person who not only think of the shitty thing to say, they also ALWAYS say the shitty thing. You know the type I mean.

But, I think I figured some loophole. Remember the at-home job I got recently through my current job? Well, at first I had a very gung-ho spirit about the endeavor, but now it’s been a month and I keep finding excuses not to do it. Because, more than anything, I want to spend my spare time writing.

Let me tell you about last weekend.

I spent most of Sunday writing. I got like 14 pages. I guess that doesn’t sound like a lot. But when i say “most of Sunday” I mean the few spare hours I could have spent cleaning or some shit. I did do other things, like take out the trash and cook dinner, but I could have gotten more intense with the cleaning because it seems and feels and looks like this house always needs it. And fuck knows I won’t get assistance from anywhere else. But my husband works at least 56 hours a week now, and he leaves when I leave (which is at 6am twice a week and 7am the other days) but gets home hours after I do. So it’s a lot easier for me to be complacent about constantly looking after all aspects of life except his going to work now.

So, garbled long story short, I wrote 14 pages of fiction on Sunday. When I was done for the day I asked my husband if he wanted to read it. He said yes but then he also actually read some of it too. He seemed really positive about it, he had genuinely nice things to say it, and specific compliments are always good to know. I mean maybe it was a smoke show, but more likely not.

And I do the opposite writing of what I do with food. You start with the best parts writing. So of course by the best parts, I mean the sex scenes. So that’s what I always start with. Or some other really intense scene, but mostly the sexual ones. I can’t help it, it’s entirely a part of my nature. It was during English class in the seventh grade when I realized I could daydream sexual fantasies. Not of myself at that age with anyone, but of characters that I would carry with me mentally for years and would still be writing about here at the end of my twenties. I was 13 when I was watching a Disney movie in theater (The Princess Diaries, if you must know) when I realized the adrenaline of sexual tension was a drug of its very own. This isn’t to say I was overly indulgent in sexual excursions at a young age. I wouldn’t have sex for the first time until after I was 18. Like all other true aspects of my personality, this was almost entirely in my head. I only say almost because I was writing from time to time, but I recall tapering off by the end of high school. I’d feel inspired on work days but sometimes it seemed like that only was because I couldn’t. Don’t we all self-sabotage by yearning after that which we know we shouldn’t?

So, I spent a whole day writing, then a whole Monday thinking about a different sex scene I wanted to write about. But the time it takes to get into that mode, it’s hard to come by on a weekday. I think I’ve mentioned a few thousand times about that, by this point. And now, throw the fact that I wanted to work from home and make extra money eating even more of my time….it can make it rough to be creative. I’m trying to resolve to dedicate large blocks of time on the weekends to writing. Because honestly I’ll just spend it cleaning or watching TV or maybe making something crafty. And the house is just going to be gross again the next week anyway, so a lot of the time it’s like is this even worth it, even a little?

So, in conclusion, I spent as much time as I could after work writing, instead of working my second job. Because there’s something more practical to do, my brain is just dying to write. I guess it’s a good thing. But I also feel so compelled to work as much as I can in an attempt to save myself from future financial drowning. But then, again, that also feels REALLY pointless because, guess, JUST GUESS, what my student loan balances are as of this month? In total, I’m at $111,666.88. So, an extra $180 every two weeks in exchange for ALL creative time….do you see why that’s so depressing to think about?

But other than all that, my life has been pretty good. To get kind of dear-diary with you, here are things in my life as of now:
I stopped taking birth control. To kind of see if I get knocked up without radically trying. Because I mean the reality that one can only have biological children before a certain age is there, no matter how fucked things were so shortly ago. I mean, no one knows more than me that I might really come to rue this remark, but I think my husband is actually getting better. He’s been sober since August 2015. So that’s something. Things have been good since they got SO fucking bad. Like we really haven’t gotten into any sort of a fight since then, beyond bickering while driving. He’s really into sex a lot more lately, which is always significantly easier for me on days I’ve been writing sex scenes for hours. I mean, is that hard to deduce? I’m not saying I can’t have sex whenever, I can, to the extent that I’ve already graphically described for you all. But, truth be told, mechanically speaking, my husband and I aren’t a perfect match, you know? Do you not? Okay, in case I’m being too cryptic. There’s a certain amount of puzzle-piece-like luck as far as genitals are concerned that’s involved when one bangs another person. We can’t help it when someone with a great dick for your vagina specifically is a shitty, alcoholic suck fest of a human being. A list of the great mistakes of my twenties would start with R, to be certain. And, while I actually love and respect my husband, sometimes we can have compatibility issues, at least as far as my personal enjoyment/comfort goes. It’s not the end of the world, and it is remarkably improved if I’m, you now, good to go from writing. My husband remarked on it a few times on Sunday, if you get my drift. Which by this point, you really should.

So, there’s that detail. That’s so not the sort of thing I’d ever talk about in my regular life. I mean I have discussions of that nature with my husband, but no one else.

Speaking of things that…I don’t know I couldn’t possibly tell anyone in my actual life, I have been SO into the idea of fantasizing about my one coworker. Like, I’m a little shocked by the level of time I put into it. And I can’t even place where it’s really coming from. So who knows where that’s headed. It’s nice to have an actual person to fantasize about, though. Thinking about characters while you’re actually masturbating is annoying, because I already fucking think about them enough could I catch a break?

 

Anyway, gotta go. As I’m sure you’ve surmised by now I’m as unstable yet very stable as ever.

 

~Cassie

What the fuck answer do you think I’m about to give here?

Exactly ten days ago, right before bed, my husband asked me where my feelings stood on his pursuing an extramarital situation that has been ‘in the works’ for years now. It began after my situation with R had already begun. It never came to fruition, if you catch my drift.

The previous day, I’d sent my husband a meme conveying the sentiment “I don’t want what I have with you with anyone else.” Because it is true, despite everything. And somehow that made him think it a wise time to ask where I stood on letting him go off and fuck  her. IF she ever stops playing this weeeeeird cat and mouse back and forth head game shit that makes me want to scream. I couldn’t fucking stand it when I was single, I really don’t like seeing it happen to my husband from some thirty-something bitch who’s NEVER had to work hard a day in her fucking life and just gets handed amazing shit in life because her family is wealthy and well-connected. And, if my personal judgment has any value to it, she fucking knows I despise her and mirrors the reflection. Could this be my possible insanity talking? I guess. I could also just be totally wrong….but…..I’m usually not wrong about these things. If there’s one thing I grew up alongside, it’s hate. It was one of those the-lady-doth-protest-too-much situations with W and hate. He ALWAYS told us we were NOT allowed to say we hated anything, because hating something is “dancing in the courtyard of the devil” (god it sickens me to quote him because you still fucking hear it, all these years later). So, I might just be too warped, or I’m fucking cynical and astute. All three more like.

So, he asks me how I would feel if things progressed between them in a sexual way. IF she ever actually admits that’s what she’s looking for. IF she’s purposely been building tension all these years. He kept reminding me that he gave me “a lot of space”  – meaning he told me it was okay every time i went and spent the night at R’s but really he was letting it tear him up inside but didn’t want to tell me that because then I’d get mad at him so he let it build and build and build to the point where he literally scared me. And he hadn’t done that since our wedding night. And it’s not fair. I spent so many nights terrified as a child, I can’t have it. So, because he was giving me all of this space, that he really didn’t want to be giving at all despite his constantly saying so otherwise, I should do the same now.

NOW.

After I ended things with R on my own over a year ago because I realized I could NOT fucking stand him as  a human being and willingly keeping him in my life was like choosing to have cancer (like my mom and her shit husband, right?). I strongly suspect unresolved issues with my father caused that year long fucked up fucking fuck fest but that worries me because them issues is still unresolved…you know?

After he did the Craigs List thing.

After he lost his mind and bashed his head so many times into our coffee table I really thought he probably did permanent damage as his own emotional reaction to when I got justifiably angry over the Craigs List thing. The thing he was going to lie to me about until his own blundering revealed the truth to me. It’s like he couldn’t stand for me getting be the one freaking out, screaming, losing my mind. That’s HIS role. HE gets to be the fucking lunatic and I better shut the fuck up and deal with it and be 100% merry sunshine the second it’s fucking over because I exist to please him.

Do you hear it? Because you are very stupid if you don’t hear it by now. I do and I’m supposed to be the one in denial. I mean I like to pretend like I’m in denial. Most people don’t know me. It took me a LONG time to realize that it’s because they don’t fucking deserve too. I used to think my husband did. But then he pulls shit like what he did last June..and last July…and what he asked me about a week ago Sunday….

After all of that, after we finally started to get better for real. All of sudden this bitch needs volunteers so she’s texting my husband like crazy, constantly asking for him to come out to different shit (yes I went through his texts. oh that’s a sign I don’t trust him? well i fucking don’t, so).

It’s hard to respect someone who does things that seem so goddamn stupid.

And, what, exactly, does he think my answer would be? Go ahead and fuck her, I owe you because you WERE SO COOL the entire time I was with R….OH FUCKING WAIT NO, THAT’S NOT AT ALL WHAT HAPPENED, YOU PSYCHO. [AND EVEN IF HE WAS, which is untrue, why would he want to go back to things being like that between us? He can never shut the fuck up about how great things are, until you find out he’s wallowing in perpetual misery and sorrow and loneliness caused by my being a frigid bitch who’s only sexually interested in other men and he hates me and he wants to kill himself because he’s tried to change his mind and his body all to please me, DESPITE the fact that he also once admitted he started getting really worried about getting into shape when he thought fucking that stupid bitch was a possibility, but I guess he’s hoping I forgot that like he forgets 80% of what he hears]

Like, really, in my heart of hearts, inside, where no one will ever hurt me because I won’t fucking let them (in), I expect two things now 1) He’ll get horny and cheat again, because he was able to talk himself into it being okay once before, why would things have changed? Because he can just fling his “addict” self towards me as a justification. 2) He’ll have another freak out, another fucking scary one, and THIS TIME, THIS TIME, he might hurt someone. More than likely it’d be himself, but who knows when he’s “lost control.”

I guess you can and promise and promise, but when your actions never back your words up, when you keep getting worse despite claims otherwise….Like I always am under the impression things are better, things are getting better…but for how long?

Like that’s the cruel truth to my life, there will ALWAYS be a “But for how long?” in my head. And you know, for a very long time my relationship with my husband didn’t get that question. But now, I feel like I’m just waiting for something more to set him off. I’m not saying I live in constant fear. It wouldn’t come out of nowhere. That’s how it was with my dad. Because of the pharmaceutical cocktail he’s been on for so long, he could have DISTURBING mood swings, like wake up from a nap and just come rampaging out of his room, screaming at me to pick up the living room and turn down the TV, when on any other day neither of those things would be issues. But with my husband, say there’s a situation where I, as a human fucking being, might be getting upset and saying mean/hurtful things. But no, that’s not to be allowed. Only the men get to say hateful, horrible things, if women DARE to match them, or do better as is usually the case, nope, that’ll make the shitty ones flare up, EVERY TIME. I know because I’ve lived it my whole life.

And now, as I near the end of my twenties…my husband’s on that list.

But, I’m not all despair and gloom, after all. I’m willing to keep trying. I feel like we actually do love each other. It’s not his fault I have weird intimacy issues. Not sex issues. But it’s not just sex with him, now is it? But try telling a guy that, please, let me know how it goes for you.

But now, ten days ago, he’s asking if I would be cool with his fucking college girl, while heavily implying I SHOULD be cool about it because he was just SO COOL towards me during the horror show that was my situation with R. I guess it was kind of like a relationship, but the kind a girl with zero self respect would get into. I can’t tell if i have self respect or not, because I have these DEEPLY ingrained reflexes that behave contrarily to my true feelings. Like, if someone is making you angry and they’re a male you have any sort of a personal relationship with, tolerate EVERYTHING they do, using the tried and true method of abused women from a millennia before you: GRIN AND BEAR IT.

But, all right, if you somehow read this far into my dark, dark woods, you’re probably wondering why I don’t just tell him no, right? Well, he’s leading me into telling him no, he’s making it seem like he’s cool with my saying I’m not cool with it. And, have you followed well enough, can you see why I might suspect he doesn’t actually mean the things he assures me of? Which, all right, I guess. I guess I can internally decipher everything you say to me. If you can imagine, I’ve had practice at that.

I figured I would write today, because I know I won’t have a chance for awhile. Next week besides working 7-4 I have to take a training class every day from 7-9 for a part time at home job. It’ll be like a week of being in college again. My federal student loan payments increased by $200/month, so I wasn’t one to reject this offer when it came my way. I’d only thrown my hat into the ring for it August 2016. I have to process 600 bills every month to make my student loan payment.

I also wanted to write today because I really needed to map out my feelings about my husband asking me about this situation. He suggested I write my answer out, but somehow I don’t think this would be received well. I might still print this one post for him and give it to him. Because I mean

  1. Doesn’t he think the whole Craigs List stranger AND our wedding night might balance out my situation with R? How can he feel he’s still owed something in all this? I had group sex with strangers I wasn’t all that attracted to for him, but seeing that I’M still the wronged party is WAY beyond his willingness/capabilities
  2. He is WELL AWARE how upset/angry his continued devotion to the conceited college cunt’s cause makes me, I do nothing to hide it. Which of course means I go very far out of my way to show how I feel, and it’s rarely received warmly I might add because you guessed it I’m bad at it.
  3. Somehow bringing up a time that was horrible for us as justification for why he wants to ruin a time that’s good for us is logical to him, and frankly that just worries me.
  4. Even WITH his Craigs list endeavor, I am WAY more upset and haunted by the memory of his freak out about 8 days later. I can check the exact date, because I took the day off work. I didn’t even do that for finding out about the craigs list thing. I was just so emotionally frazzled, I was more than willingly to use a sick day to not deal with talking to other people. I wrote a freakishly long blog, if you can imagine. So that’s something to think about
  5. The ratio of fucked up behavior tolerated : dished out between the two of us is ASTRONOMICALLY different. Another thing that’s not fair that makes me resent him. These are the things that kill a sex drive. That and the whole adult-with-college-degree-unemployed-seemingly-in-no-hurry-to-be-employed thing that he had going on for a long time following unemployed college years. I’m NOT saying I have some deep desire to like have the same number of drunken freak out/storm outs but I’m saying it would be GREAT if my UNENDING patience could be acknowledged at some point. Yeah, he’s had to be patient with me, like emotionally…obviously…..but I’m SO many other functional/rational/good things, things I fucking made myself, I can make up for a lot. But HE, HE, gets to be the irrational emotional child? And if I ever dare sink to his level, he just has this next one coming for me to show me who’s in power here, and it’s all so eerily familiar.

I’m not trying to say I fear for my safety, I don’t. But part of me now wonders, and it’s a larger part than I’d like, it wonders when it’ll happen again. See,  it already knows, it just wonders when. And aren’t we all like that? Those of us living with something we shouldn’t? Something we need to fix, in one way or another? I mean, we all know what it is, we just thought of it. I would have, at least, if I’d read it. Not that I would ever tell anyone.

No one wants to be good at keeping secrets, to have it stem from a lifetime of doing so. And not because they’re interesting just because they’re terrible and you feel this unending source of judgment and shame should stem from any revelations on your part.

I don’t have a whole lot of hope to offer if you also feel this way. But, with hope, you don’t need much, really. Because, there’s at least other people out there who can truly sympathize with you. That means more than you’d realize, particularly when most of your life has been isolating. It’s part of controlling a family, spouse and kids, you isolate the nuclear family as much as possible, no adult friends for the parents, keep the kids on the outs with everyone by encouraging awful behavior, keep mother and brother in laws away…. So the loneliness was certain.

Holy shit it’s late. I’m going to be SO tired during these training classes next week….also I’m very concerned that I probably shouldn’t show up really high and that’s going to get in the way of my usual evening plans.

Well, I hope you’re all doing well. I will let you know what happens if I let him read this.

~Cassie