Alpha 

Well, I’m not going to take back anything I text in the morning.

He does  mean something to me, quite a lot and do you what, I don’t mind it. 

I don’t mind it, it’s like having all the crap of a relationship without the self wonder, am I? Was I? Could I?

Well till tonight that is.

But I did ask, I did do that tonight, and he came out wanting, not me.

I have been good enough, I am good enough, and will grow into something better, better and fatter probably.

I no longer care, nah, scrap that, I do care, and I’m not ashamed that I can love, feel warmth and need heat from another human, it is what’s makes us human after all. How special is that.

Was our friendship stopping me from dating, no, I was stopping me. I’m still stopping me, I’ve just started to realise that I don’t command respect, my persona and demeanour are not that of an alpha female like I thought, I am no top bitch, however I can mirror people and change things instead of pissing on their face or rubbing my vulva on their mouse mat..Ok I might do that anyway..

Just because we ARE animals doesn’t mean we have to act like it but in the same vein we have to be mindful that we are beasts. Trouble is I don’t want to be in the game, or…Or…Or…Play the game. ..

Or maybe the reason I’m not ‘winning’ because I’ve taken myself out of the race.

I’m just scared incase I do win, like the English football team….

Is there a Yang to my Ying…If I win..Who loses? 

Let’s find out

The Dark Outer Hue

Talking to a close male friend recently (yes I have, no it wasn’t, yes probably) about a theory I have long believed to be true.

That some of us have an inner or maybe an outer hue, a tinged off colour, just a smidge, these are the people that have no trained guilt, no empathy or a very little, a swathe of naughtiness, a glow of indecency, a graze of badness.

I’m not saying that these people are bad, oh no, far from it.

I’m saying they could if they wanted to be, they might be thinking vulgar thoughts as they kiss there mother in laws, or a sneaky wink to the waitress, or lusting over married men.

I can spot them a mile away.

Give me any line up and I can sniff those fuckers out.

As most of the time, that is me and that is my circle of friends.

They are the smokers behind the bike shed, the one taking in the surroundings in bar.

They are the people I love.

I have had some trouble of late, trying to battle my inner/outta darkness, I have tried to think clear and good thoughts, stop to let people cross the road, help a kid with a push up lolly, give money to charity.

But I just don’t think that life, if it’s programmed or destiny does not want me to have an easy ride, it wants me to have an interesting ride and what if making war with yourself is counter productive, what if fighting the wanton demon is the wrong thing to do.

To cover myself I have apologised to people when really they should be grovelling at feet, I have cornered my feelings about various times and relationships and started to expel them, like an exorcism, just to make sure my score card is clear, alright, alright, that can never happen but it’s a start.

Trouble is, I quite like my burnished body armour, I think I’ve been prodded and poked and belittled far more than most in the last 18 month and it’s still there, my rough, spiky, hot to touch bubble is still there, I just need to jazz it up a notch, dust it off and start rocking it like I used to, stop being afraid of your shadow, literally, embrace the minx inside.

I have written about this before, but it just seems like a good analogy, more than that, it really does exist.

Time to start liking it, before the dust, turns to rust, then your fucked.

 

11 Months

I have now been single for 11 months.

Subconsciously I gave myself 12 to get my act together before embarking on another relationship of the emotional kind.

I’m not saying I have not ‘dated’ because I have, I’m not saying I’ve been a nun because heaven help me I haven’t.

11 months, 11 months is just enough to get set in ones ways, to pee with the door open, to scratch ones butt whilst adorning P’J’s and sipping left over rum (past 12 O’Clock somewhere I’m sure), to talk animatedly to ones self and to get used to the dogs sleeping in my bed.

What the fuck would I do if a man suddenly came into my life and wanted to see me in succession or for a full weekend or to MOVE IN! Ok so I’m jumping ahead but you know what I mean.

Would I forget that he was there and do something that might seem odd to them, but over time has found it’s way to be perfectly normal to myself?

This is actually a horror factor for me to worry about and I don’t even have a date lined up, neurosis eat yeah heart out, or head in my case.

So not only do I have to worry about dating, not dating, falling in love, never falling in love, never spending time with someone AND spending time with them, I’m surprised I’m functioning at all.

One second I can be contemplating going back on a dating website or 50 (so many, so little time and even less inclination) then the next moment I’m bristling my inner lady with thoughts of feminism and man hate (I know they don’t go hand in hand, calm down), what I do know however is that when the………. not right……. no….. but when the suitor with the biggest backbone and common sense comes along, I will know it and unfortunately for them, they will too.

Perhaps I should write a Health and Safety leaflet with evacuation (take that as you will) procedures and where to smoke after, I could have various levels for how long they stay over or we continue dating, I could show a route from the local pub in case we get trolled and also where my clitoris should be, might be, just go for it and see what happens….

Perhaps I should set up a template for all ladies and gents alike that have been out of the game too long, copy and paste whats needed and add in the details to suit ones self.

If interested, message me, I’m sure I can help;)

 

Hibernation Needed

The moment I realised that I wasn’t winning was last weekend.

I could have won, but I didn’t.

Now I had a God awful feeling of dread from the moment I stepped out of the door to go and stay at a girlfriends, I should of taken heed and listened to the inner screaming but I didn’t, does anybody? So instead of Hunkering down and eating ice cream from the tub and probably sharing it with my cat (yes same spoon don’t judge), I still went.

Friday was ok, my friend has just started socialising with a younger crown so that’s all I heard about, yawns being stifled I continued as I was out of the house, no kids, no dogs no fucking hoover winking at me un-suggestively.

Saturday, it was the halloween weekend so we dressed up to go for a large pub crawl.

As Bees

Zom-Bees, get it….Hmm…

So anyway, we went out, and I got drunk, the conversation was not enticing enough for me to give a fuck about and so I drank, this is what happens, if I can be, not entertained but not far off then I’m happy as a sand boy, if I feel shit beforehand or miffed in anyway, then heaven help myself as that’s the person that tends to get fucked up in one way or another.

In my drunken state I agreed to get a lift with someone I didn’t know.

Big mistake, BIG, HUGE.

So it ended up with my mobile being swiped, a couple of punches, on both sides and me being dragged out of the car in an unlit road where I thought was going to be my final resting place.

I think he was more scared at one point then I was.

He just left me there. Thank Christ, or thank my feisty nature and the fact I will never feel like a victim, even when I am.

Somethings as they say happen for a reason, I am a firm believer in this, not that it was meant to happen, but after something does, then learn from it.

This can be anything, learning how to be a better driver after a speeding fine, learning how to deal with situations better at work after an office cow tries to set you up, all that good stuff.

But what about lessons in love, for there are plenty are there not.

As most of my blogs have been about men in general and the fuckupness of my relationships with men in one vein or another perhaps I should mention how my little attack will not put me off men, I will not allow it, even though it probably should.

When I had got home, the first person that I wanted to talk to, was a man, a male friend, not my girlfriends, my male ones, was this perhaps because I felt I needed protection or it could have been because I wanted affirmation that men are not all bad.

Just some.

Most

Nearly all

 

I have figured out that some of the men in my life that I hold in great favour do not warrant this, that my trusting nature is by far too trusting, that people are just people, flawed and tainted and wrong on so many levels.

It’s just finding the ones that suit your level and deserve your time and merit.

And for got sake don’t get in anymore strange mens fucking cars.

I’m too old for all this.

Hibernation is needed.