The Flaw Line

I’ve been thinking a lot about people and their imperfections. Instead of a cautious tell this time, I am asking a question.

At what point do we draw the Flaw Line?

Everyone has a Flaw Line, it’s that line where someone’s flaws just become too much and you can’t handle them anymore. Where does that line get drawn? Are we supposed to accept people and all of their flaws, physical and emotional?

I know we all have different lines at varying degrees. Some people can handle a lot of flaws (they like the fixer-uppers), and there are those that have to have perfection in the form of a person (they want a finished product and in my experience are often the dreaded serial dater). With Coyote I have drawn my line.

Here are is the list of flaws with Coyote, can you guess where I drew the line?:He occasionally smokes (when he is with me he vapes which is fine)

  1. He smokes (he vapes around me which is fine).
  2. He occasionally dips (so far he has only done this once in front of me).
  3. PTSD from serving over seas.
  4. He is a very bad communicator.

Can you guess my line?

Number four is where I draw the line. I need some type of communication beyond the physical. When we are together, BOOM, BANG, WHIZ Z!! Fireworks!! When we are apart, it’s radio silence until the day of our next meeting. We hold little to no conversations during the week and when we do they are brief because he has just gotten off from work and is about to fall asleep. I know he is busy, but is it too much to ask to send me as “thinking of you snap” or “miss you Facebook message”?

I understand that no one is perfect. No relationship is easy due to people’s imperfections. He has communication problems, I have anxiety and trust issues,  my ex-turned friend (I really need to give him a name) has commitment issues. I get it, we all have problems that make a relationship hard work. But I think we need to be allowed a little wiggle room. If we try to ignore the problem or apply Elmer’s Glue, it’s going to fall apart all over again.

This weekend, during date number six, I will have a talk with Mr.Coyote the Imperfect. I am hoping we can find a glue stronger the Elmer’s to hold this new relationship together.

If not.I have a summer to work, volunteer, and get my young adult life ready for my senior year of college.

-Girl Y

 

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The Poem of Grain

In Response To: Grain

It always amazes me how a single grain can change everything.

One diminutive piece can tip the scales in favor of or against the tide.

A grain of doubt can be the destruction of a relationship.

A grain of sand can be the beginning of paradise.

With one single grain of hope, the world can change.

 

Well this wasn’t meant to be a poem, but that’s how it ended. There is my post for the day, now to go do housework.

-Girl Y

 

Black Liquid

So I got this writing prompt book from Barnes and Noble. It’s called Complete the Story. If the title isn’t a big enough hint for you, it starts with a sentence or two and the writer (me) finishes with the story. Being the person that I am, I decided to start on the first page. Here is my first finished story. Keep in mind, there is only a page in which to write the story, which is why it it so short.

 

At first, we thought the black liquid was oil, that we’d struck it rich and that we’d be able to retire and live in leisure. We actually started writing down all the ways we’d spend the money. Our first choice was to buy a new house for his mom. Ever since his father died she had let herself, and the house, go. Next we excitedly talked about treating ourselves to a second honeymoon to Hawaii. As we were about to discuss our third option of spending our oil-money, the stench slapped us back into reality.

It smelled like a combination of a hundred dead animals bodies and rotten eggs. Somehow, while digging for our garden we had hit our main sewage line. My initial thought was one of disappointment. No second honeymoon, no buckets of money, no retirement or new house for his mom. The following thought was even worse. I was standing ankle deep in shit.

Twenty minutes of dry-heaving and one phone call later, we had a plumber squashing around in the black-brown muck. He informed us to the so old and so isolated from the nearest town, no one had caught the mistake. The good news was that he could fix it for us at a decent price. The bad news was that the entire underground pluming system would have to be redone.

We got our second honeymoon after all.

The End!!

 

 

 

The China or the Bear?

I got to thinking while I was in the shower (where the best ideas form) about split personalities. I don’t mean the mental disorder some people are unfortunate enough to develop, I am talking about our very own Jekyll and Hyde complexes. How we, was humans, act one way in front of a group of certain people and then we act differently with another group.

Now I realize this not the case for everyone. Some people are “themselves” no matter who they are with (so they claim). I know for myself personally I am not the same person around my friends as I am around my family. I also see a difference in myself when I am with my mom’s side of the family verses when I am with dad’s side.

I also find it interesting how some people bring out certain aspects of one’s personality. For example. My ex brought out my “wild side” more than the Coyote, the current guy I am seeing. My recent ex encouraged me to defy my family and piss people off. I think he found it entertaining (even if he won’t admit it). Coyote balances me, we have our wild moments, but he also has this off calming effect. When I am with Coyote, we swear and tease each other, but in public, we are well mannered 20-something-year-olds.

I was once explaining this to an ex. I thought I was a bad person for acting one way when I was with him and my friends and another way when I was with family. This particular ex was considerably older. He advice?

“It’s not a bad thing. Everyone does that. It’s called showing respect for your family.”

So if we are showing respect for our family when we act well mannered, are we disrespecting our friends when we act like fools in public and teasingly call them mean names?

I don’t think that’s it at all. As a matter of fact, I feel I would be disrespecting them if I treated them like my family. It would be as if I were saying “I like you, but I do not trust you enough for you to see how silly I can be”. Instead of “friends zone” they would be stuck in the “family zone”.

I treat my mom’s family as if they are fragile china on display in one of the those fancy glass cabinets. From the outside they look pretty, but they are never to be touched, or used, or taken out of the cabinet for fear of breaking the priceless artifacts. That’s not to say we don’t hug or touch  in any way. But one wrong move, one wrong spoken word, and the beautiful cabinet comes crashing down. What you have left is the disarray of broken cabinet glass and china that you spend months trying to clean up, all while trying not to cut yourself on glass shards.

With my dad’s side of the family, I treat them like a long loved stuffed bear that I keep on a high shelf. Every now and then I take the stuffed bear down, hug it, squeeze it, tell it how much I love it and miss it, then gently place it back on the shelf. It stays on the shelf because the shelf it out of the way, I have a life away from the shelf. But also I never want to forget about my fluffy stuffed bear. As is life, I do forget about the stuffed bear waiting patiently on the shelf. When I remember I take it back down, give it love, then return it to it’s place so that it can watch me live my life at a distance.

Both the china and bear are important parts of who I am and I do not want to discard either one of them. One day I will have to choose between being a free spirit and taking my stuffed bear with me on a road trip, or settling down and keeping the bear on the shelf. I will never leave one side of the family behind, but one day I will have to choose which side of my personality will become more dominant. Will I travel the states and even the world when I graduate college? Or will I stay close to home, find a husband, and settle down in a small town?

Will I choose Jekyll or Hyde?

-Girl Y

 

Changing the Girl

Allow me to rant for this post. If you disagree with anything in this rant-post, feel free to comment, but please do so respectfully.

sexual

I shared the above picture on my timeline on Facebook this morning. Now, I want to make it clear. I am not a radical feminist. I wear makeup almost every time I leave my house, I sometimes wear dresses, I like it when my significant other calls me a “princess”, I sometimes like the color pink (but I hardly every wear it). So I am not anti-man and women should rule the world. But I have many liberal views and those views are not shared by many in the South (which is where I have grown up).

My Mom, a very conservative person replied to the link on my timeline, politely disagreeing, stating that girls should respect themselves enough to dress appropriate for school, that the dress code should be followed, and that students should respect each other.

I agree that students should respect each other. After all, humans should respect humans (alas this is not the case nor the moral to this rant). I also agree that the students should follow the dress code. After all, what is school for other than to teach us how to obey authority, (again another topic for another rant). What I do not agree with is that girls should “respect themselves to dress” a certain way.

Sixty years ago, women couldn’t wear pants in public. Before that it was scandalous to wear a dress that stopped at the knee. Before that, ankles were considered sexual. What does this prove? This proves that society has Always dominated what is considered “appropriate” to wear. If women were seen dressing outside of the societal norms they were body shamed and told to dress “more like a proper lady”.

Why were they told to change? Because men were taught that an ankle is too sexy and that if a lady shows her ankle, it is okay to have sex with her, even if she says “No”. The same rule applied to women that wore dresses that stopped at the knee. And the same… no wait. Pants covered more so why weren’t they allowed to wear pants? Oh right. Because that was “too masculine”, look at that, men controlling what women wear again.

It is 2016!! We should not be allowing men to determine what we wear. Like I said before, if you attend a school where the dress code is to cover your bloody shoulders, just do it. You can fight the system when you are in your twenty’s and have done more research and people are more likely to listen to you (Wait. You’re a woman. No one listens to you). It will take more than just one person fighting the system to make the changes needed.

In my response to my conservative mom, I said that it’s not the girls that should be publicly embarrassed about their outfit of choice.Why should they be shamed for the way they were born? Everyone has skin, knees, and ankles. It’s not the girls that should change. Society should change how they display women’s bodies and people should educate their kids about the human anatomy without over sexualizing it.

Thank you for reading my rant. Comments for or against this argument are welcome.

-Girl Y

 

Restless

It is after 2 A.M. here and I have tried everything short of making tea to help my restless mind become un-restless. I have tried counting, I have orgasamed three times, and I have even tried nothing. Just laying with my thoughts and an hour later I am still no closer to sleep.

It seems the deeper into my summer vacation I get without a job the longer I stay awake. I understand why. With one college friend out of town, one that is working, and one that is working and taking summer classes, I am in short supply of adventure mates. With no adventures my body is full of pent up energy ready to be released (hence the three orgasams).

You might be thinking, “What about that fifth serious relationship you mentioned in your last post?” Well. That is part of the reason I am still awake at 2 A.M. on a Thursday morning.

Let’s call him…Coyote. Well Coyote is the perfect man. He is educated, smart, funny, attractive, tall, has big blue eyes that I drown in (I know, cliche), and his hugs make me feel safe. He’s not bad in bed either. In person, he is literally the perfect guy.

Then seven days into little communication and no plans for another date, I start to get restless. We have been talking for three, going on four weeks now, and we have only  been on three official dates. I put my foot down earlier tonight and told him that if he wanted to make this work, we were going to have to see each other more than once every two weeks. He said he is working on it. We will see.

The reason I haven’t left yet is because this feels like the most “adult” relationship I have been in. He’s not a secret from my family (many a poor soul have been), he has been family approved by half of my family (they knew him previously), I don’t have this burning desire to be beside him all the time, and the first time we had sex I was… nervous. I hadn’t been nervous to have sex with a man since loosing my virginity and suddenly here I was afraid to expose myself, not just physically.

I feel by this point most women would have bolted, claiming they need regular physical contact or they need constant communication. Maybe I find it a challenge. Not just him, but I find I am challenging myself. I can’t remember when I last worked this hard for a relationship. Sure I worked with my ex, but communication and lack of dates weren’t out problem. Our problem was his uncertain feelings towards me, but I digress.

I will stay, not for the challenge or his ocean-eyes. I will stay because I feel like my age. I don’t feel like I am playing the games of a sixteen year old still trying to figure out if sex is supposed to hurt. I will stay because this might teach me a little something about patience and being an adult.

-Girl Y

 

They Change You

I first discovered Sex and the City when I was about thirteen or fourteen. I was flipping through the options when I came across a channel that played movies, the uncut versions. Mom didn’t know I had discovered this treasure or else she would have put the parental block on anything that wasn’t ABC Family, Disney Channel, or Nickelodeon. This is where I discovered the movie with “Sex” in the title. Who does that? Put “Sex” in the title of a movie? What if little kids saw? What if someone like myself saw? That’s when I pressed play and became hooked on the lives of Carrie Bradshaw, Charlotte York, Samantha Jones, and Miranda Hobbs.

When you watch a show like Sex and the City, what else are you going to think about other than sex, your past relationships, and your sex with those past relationships?

An ex-turned friend (We will call him, Black Ops) once told me that you learn something about yourself and what you like with each failed relationship. I thought he was just full of BS at the time, since he was telling me this but of information right after we broke up. That was five years and four serious relationships ago. I am currently working on my fifth and I do believe that the serial-dating, ass-hat friend of mine actually passed on a bit of wisdom. Which is odd considering he was only nineteen and had only been in two serious relationships prior.

“You learn something about yourself and what you like with each failed relationship.” Well the latter part of that statement seems obvious. Of course you learn what you like and don’t like with each relationship. That’s all part of the process. Some people develop a physical type that attracts them, some people develop a personality type that attracts them, some people develop both. With each new significant other you learn your likes and dislikes until you find someone that has more of the things you like than dislike.

It’s that first part that I didn’t understand until after I broke up with the guy I dated after Black Ops. I started to reflect on what I had learned from my last relationships and those before meeting the serial dater with god-like wisdom. To my surprise and horror…he was right.

While dating the boy I had dated before meeting Black Ops, I learned that I need attention, not all the time, but enough so that it equaled the attention he gave his gaming system. I also learned I did not want to wait until he was 18 and I was 20 to have sex (he was 15 and I was 17 when we started dating). Then there was the serial dater, or as you now know him as Black Ops, who gave me as much attention as I wanted, but he also gave it to other girls. He never cheated physically, but I caught him talking to other girls online, which in his eyes wasn’t “techinally” cheating. The one after him, too controlling, the one after that was too old, and the one after that was a big baby.

What did I learn from them?  I learned that if a man didn’t take “no” for an answer he could become vengeful and violent. I learned how to stand up for myself when it came to a boy that could potentially become a man that abuses women. From the older man I gained the confidence to buy my first pair of shorts. From the baby? Well I learned the little red flags of when a boy is still a boy.

After dating the baby I took a break and focused on my studies. By the time  school let out for the summer I was lonely again. I had just turned twenty and I fancied myself more experienced at dating the dating game. So I turned to my old friends Tinder and OkCupid, to help me find someone that I really connected with.

And it worked! I thought I had finally found the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with. We dated for ten months. Almost broke up three times, actually broke up once and go back together.

Now here I am almost a month later and in a new relationship. What did I learn form “Almost Mr. Perfect”? I learned that my dreams of living in the big city and having tons of money were my mother’s dreams, imposed on me due to growing up with little to no money of her own and having a hard time taking care of two kids with one income. I learned that I don’t need money and fancy things to be happy. I also learned that I tend to put my eggs on one basket. I saw a future with my ex-boyfriend before we had even dropped the “L-bomb”.  With this new guy I am taking it slower and am trying to suppress my urges to dream about our wedding and what our children will look like.

I never thought of someone changing me so much. I knew that as people grew older, our dreams and aspirations changed. I never imagined someone that I had sex with would be influence me so much.

 

-Girl Y