Stuff I Can't Find a Good Title For

Formerly titled "I Think I Might Have Been a Slut..."

So I sat down last night to write this whole thing out, and I did, and I posted it, but then immediately felt guilty this morning (after I'd already gone to work and couldn't log back in to get this guilt-inducing shit off of my page because I'm blocked. Shitty guv computer system) because this was the next post after I had sent my aunt the link to my blog. Uh, what was I thinking? I felt guilty and skeezy all day, and rushed home to get the post down because I just felt, well, guilty and skeezy about my aunt reading about all those guys... but then I saw I had a new follower. Bonus! I thought, well, maybe that kind of cancels out my guilt and skeeze? Kind of?

I feel like I've spent my entire life worrying about what other people think. I largely blame this on my parents and all of the other people they in turn ended up marrying. I think this might be a two part problem. One, I wonder that it might just be a generational/status induced thing and my generation has been the one to say fuck it, it doesn't really matter. This almost doesn't make sense to me, because my parents' generation were the ones laying around in the mud fucking in broad daylight at Woodstock. And for the record, I've never done anything like that. Because I don't really like getting mud on me. Anyway, I spent a good portion of my teenage years and early 20's trying to impress upon them that maybe it doesn't matter what everyone else thinks. Maybe by worrying about what everyone else thinks, you lose yourself and what's really important. I mean, are you worried about what everyone is going to think when your kid gets kicked out of school, or are you going to worry about being a better parent and figuring out what the hell is really going on there? Sadly, the answer to that was to just worry about what everyone else would think, because I wasn't allowed out of the house during the day for most of that suspension because then everyone would wonder why I wasn't in school for those six weeks. Keeping up with The Joneses is a bitch, because you never can quite make it to where they are, and you know that you're perpetrating a damn lie. The second part of my aforementioned guilt is gender based. Yep, I'm going there. I've had people call me promiscuous before, and dammit, I take great offense to that. Why is it okay for guys to run around and tag every bit of ass they can, but let a girl do it... and she's just a dirty whore. Whatever. I promise, promise, promise you, I haven't been any more promiscuous than any of the guys I've dated.

So in the spirit of me using this blog to figure me out, and figuring out exactly how true to myself I'm going to be, here's the post from last night.

I really need to be paying my bills right now, but every time I think about logging into my account and shooting some electronic money out to someone, I decide it would be more fun to go out on my deck and just smoke a butt or two. The redneck who lives in the house through my backyard, and on the other side of the back privacy fence is out there on his deck, making that strange coughing noise that people make when it's a puff-puff-pass kind of night. Except I don't think he's out there passing to much because 1) he's by himself and 2) he's doing too much coughing and clearing of his throat. I don't know what he looks like, but I'm really curious now, because I heard him talking to a child earlier today about kindergarten. So now I'll be wondering every time I see a parent at a kindergarten function if this is the guy getting stoned through my back privacy fence. But kudos to me for not being so curious that I'm actually at the fence peeping through it. I almost want to holler at him, "Hey, man, can't you just bang the old lady out here or something, because that might be more interesting for me to listen to?" But based upon the amount of nights I hear him out on the deck making that coughing noise, I'm inclined to believe he's not getting too much of the other action. That, and I'm trying to get better about just minding my own damn business.

I've come to realize in the past week or so that my blog is pretty much filled with vulgarities, crudities, I-don't-go-to-churcheties, and such, and I worry ever so slightly about offending someone. I mean, I am a woman. I do worry about that periodically, but I'm trying to get over that, too. There is a very select group of people in my life who can take me just as I am, take me as I have been, take me as I will be, and I have really come to appreciate them. So many people want to push their judgements off on us, and I'm beginning to reject it. I think maybe I always did, but I'm trying to get me back. Regarding my blog, I guess if you don't like it, stop reading it. This is my disclosure, and if you don't like it, well then that's your issue. This is about me being okay with me.

I grew up in Prince Edward, moved to Richmond for a short period of time, and then moved back to Farmville for a few more years before I jumped ship again for Richmond. The last time I left Farmville, it all started to come to a head when I was out eating dinner with a girlfriend (same girlfriend who took care of my rugburn and is my screen-shotting homeslice). Four guys that we knew were seated behind us after we had already placed our orders, and thus, couldn't really leave. I slid a little further down on my side of the booth, and told my girlfriend, "I need to move away from Farmville. Right now." She looked concerned and said, "Why?" And I said, "Because I have screwed three of those four guys who just sat down." Yep. And none of them were the rugburn guy.

So here's a quick sidebar explanation: First Guy: I dated him in high school, but we didn't go to the same school. This guy was the laziest fuck I've ever encountered. I see his name pop up on facebook periodically and I always think, hmmm, I wonder if he's learned how to fuck yet? I don't even want to be his facebook friend and I hope he doesn't want to be mine. Second Guy: I dated him after high school briefly, and he just recently sent me a friend request on facebook. Imagine my shock when I saw he had himself listed as an Orthodox fill-in-the-blank (still trying for some level of anonymity here). I immediately called my girlfriend (same one) and told her. She was like, "Why does that surprise you?" And I said, full of knowledge of private things that she didn't know about, "Because he sure didn't act like an Orthodox fill-in-the-blank when he was slapping my ass."  Third Guy: a simple grudge fuck. He was dating a girlfriend of mine who I really didn't like, and really, who needs enemies when you've got friends like me, and she had done something snotty to piss me off. I think at one point in time, before she was even dating this guy, I very specifically told her, "I'm going to fuck your boyfriend." And so, when the opportunity arose, I did. I wouldn't do that to any of my girlfriends now, not even her. Because I wouldn't want to associate myself with anyone she might or might not be dating. I've gotten older, and a little more selective, and god help, a little more mature. And then there was rugburn guy, and mulch-in-my-hair guy, sneaking-around-the-Ft.-Lee-barracks-Army guy, the I-ran-into-an-electric-barbwire-fence-when-I-was-bareassed-naked-because-some-moron-was-spotlighting-and-I-couldn't-find-my-clothes guy, and a few others here and then. I'll just add that running into an electric barbwire fence when you're buck naked not only hurts like holy fuck, it's stupid as hell, too.

Then I got engaged and married and the par-tay ENDED. Quickly, because I wasn't going to be that kind of wife. And I wasn't, despite accusations of otherwise. But now I'm separated, and thanks, facebook, for adding separated and divorced to the list of relationship status choices. I had a date in my mind all picked out for when I was specifically going to become single in facebook land again, but now I can just roll with separated and divorced, whenever the judge signs off. And I've decided, no matter what level of desperation I might feel, I'm just not going to give my shit away anymore. Sorry, fellas, if you missed out on knowing me pre-1998. It was a wild and crazy time. And now, I shall pay my bills.