For the first time since November of 2010 I don’t have a single person to send a nude to. For real. Nada, no one, zilch. Why? Because no one deserves one, frankly.
I’m trying to keep a stiff upper lip (and resolve) about the men in my life. I just keep hearing what I posted yesterday in my mind, “I can only make everyone else’s life so easy before I just call myself a doormat with a pussy,” and it’s keeping me from doing the thing I always do, which is to wait long enough until I’m efficiently inoculated to the terrible behavior I’ve suffered at their hands and reach out.
I do it with men, I do it with my family, I do it with friends. I do all the labor, all the time.
That’s not to say I’m perfect – far from it – but I show up and I follow through without fail every time and with every one. I’m also sweet, apologetic, and admit fault immediately if there is any at my feet. My biggest fear is that if my requirement for someone to get in my pants – or my life – is to actually be present and weather their own terrible behaviors like I do mine, then I may be alone forever.
Then again, “Doormat with a pussy.” Ugh.
I may be the most enlightened, hard up and lonely I’ve ever been in my life. I want to cry, call everyone up and apologize and make plans and fuck fuck fuck like it was my last day on earth, epiphany be damned!!
But I won’t.
I don’t think I can and while that’s exciting on the one hand (yay, growth!), it’s totally terrifying on the other (boo, scary unknown!).
In the meantime, please send noodz; this attention whore needs as many friends as she can get.