Vertigo

It’s so easy for me to forget that I have to write. It’s not like me to go a month without writing. It’s not good for me to go a month without writing but hopefully I’ll be back on track soon. I get caught up in real life, emails to answer, meetings to attend, piles of lists to sort through… it’s so easy to forget to write. I find myself wrapped in a bubble of stress as the world closes in around me but all I really have to do is write. It doesn’t even matter what. I just have to get all the little thoughts out of my head. So here I am.

I have flowers sitting on my desk from a couple of girlfriends, fiery red tulips and soft little daffodils. I love that it’s almost spring. I want to drop my winter coat off at the dry cleaner knowing that I won’t need it until next winter but it’s not quite warm enough yet… maybe a few more weeks.

I’ve been in an odd mood the past few days, unsettled. I’ve been swimming through mild stress but I think it’s the lack of predictability that’s not sitting well. Without dancing I don’t really know what I’ll be doing next week. I’m always busy and with Exotic Dancers for Cancer only a few weeks away my “To Do” list is never-ending but it’s not a schedule. I think I need something more. I need to feel like I’m doing something concrete.

I tried to work in Victoria a couple weeks ago—what a disaster. I made it through a day and a half before my body collapsed and I had to face the hard reality—I can’t dance. I’m still injured and I don’t know if my body will ever be in the condition to work full-time as a stripper again. It broke my heart all over again. I know I quit when Mugs closed but I told myself I was just taking a break. Part of me needs to believe that.

I’m not sure what this blog is going to turn into now that I’m not dancing. I’m still part of the industry but it’s different. I have Stiletto Storm and various other projects on the go but something doesn't fit. I suppose the direction of this blog will become apparent when my direction is more focused.

At some point in the past few weeks I realized that I like having someone in my life. I’ve always been okay alone and I’m terrified of allowing myself to need anyone. I’m not afraid of love. I’m afraid that I’ll wake up one day and I won’t be independent anymore. That’s what’s so comforting about Alexander. I’d always need to maintain my own life in order to survive him. Alexander has an incredible sixth sense for knowing when I’m leaving and he’s still very much around, emailing and texting, although I’ve been smart enough not to see him.

Things are good with Monkey. Hopefully sometime soon my insecurity about this relationship will fade and I’ll be able to relax not thinking that every time I see Monkey will be the last. It’s a leftover defense from my affair with the Musician. I was able to avoid getting too attached by never expecting there to be a next time. That doesn’t transfer so smoothly into... well anything.

I actually had a chance to catch up with the Musician this afternoon. It was nice to just be around him. He’s happy and we’re perfectly capable of sitting in the same room without ripping each other’s clothes off or even hinting at the idea. I love him and I’m really proud of him and I don’t want anything more. Somewhere along the way we became friends.

I’m in vertigo, a little unsettled, a little off balance but I’ll be okay. I guess I just have a few things to get used to. It’s not as comfy or as easy as I’d like. I’ll try to write more.

Monkey

Monkey just left. He’s cute. Actually he’s totally hot but I laugh a lot when I’m with him and I think he’s adorable. Make no mistake I’m fucking terrified but it was a lovely third date and we have a fourth planned for Friday at my party. I’ll actually be introducing him to my friends…

My personal plan is to stop freaking out and just enjoy it. I'll see him in a few days and I'll be very busy until then. Now I have even more work to get done this week, having done nothing today. It was worth it. I like him. I like how he kisses me and how he wraps his arms around me. I like the totally corny and cheesy things he says that are not smooth or classy in any way.

But really I like that I can talk to him and say anything. I like that we’re both honest and that we agree on what that means. I like that he was thinking about me while in Mexico and that he called me almost as soon as his plane landed. I like that he spent the day with me before even going home.

I’m excited that he’s coming to my party on Friday and I love the energy between us. We snuggled, talked, and made out all afternoon but I’m taking this one slow… really slow. I like that he’s not pressuring me for sex and that I don’t feel I have to explain myself or argue about it.

I received some very good advice yesterday that I needed to be reminded of… enjoy this time. It’s exhilarating and fun.

So that is exactly what I’m doing. I’m happy. I can still smell him on my skin and taste him on my lips. It was a good day and I’m going to bed smiling.

annoyed.

I’m annoyed. I’ve been mildly annoyed at The American for a week or so. There have been tentative plans for him to come to Vancouver that keep getting pushed back or left unconfirmed and I really don’t have time for that. It’s not a big deal but it was annoying.

He called me last night to tell me they’re going to be in town—today! Sigh… my life doesn’t function with 24 hours notice. Sometimes flukes happen and I’m able to squeeze in an unexpected lunch with a friend, but with Stiletto Storm I’m swamped.

I rearranged a few things and let him know that I could be free between 2:00— 4:00pm this afternoon. We could do a late lunch or coffee, but I’m really busy and that’s the only time I can make on such short notice.

Reid texted me this morning asking if I was free for lunch. I haven’t seen him in weeks, and I miss him, but I turned down the lunch.

The American called shortly after and I missed the call. I checked my voicemail, “Hey, we’re on our way. We should be in town around noon then we want to go check out Gastown, then hop a seabus to North Vancouver, and then dinner around 5:00 and we’ll be out of town by 6:00.”

WHAT THE FUCK!

By my calculations that would put him in North Van during the window I gave him. I called him back, talked to his voicemail, and explained that I’m only free during the afternoon, and I can’t go to North Van.

Then I wait… and get more work done… and wait… and go to physio… and wait… and pick up my gloves from Justice, make a few phone calls, return a few emails… and wait… then I make myself lunch.

At 2:23 I receive a text. “We’re checking out N. Van. What do you think of the snow?”

WHAT THE FUCK!! Now I’m really annoyed.

I shook my head, ate my lunch, and texted back “I'm a little disappointed that I made time this afternoon and you didn't. It would have been nice to see you.

American: I was hoping we could meet up between 4:30 and 5:30. Does that not work for you?

Obviously this guy doesn’t listen at all. “No. I told you yesterday that I can be free between 2 and 4. I already have dinner plans.”

American: Oh that sucks. I don't remember hearing about your dinner plans. We had to squish a 2 day trip into 5 hours, so there is a lot that I wish we could have done.

At that point I ran out of things to say that wouldn’t include the words “presumptuous, self-absorbed, or inconsiderate” so I haven’t replied.

Why do so many guys expect my life to be free and available whenever it works for them? It feels disrespectful to assume that my plans are either non-existent or able to be rescheduled at the drop of a hat. I don’t live like that. I have a life, and a business, and friends, and stuff to do.

And right now I’m really annoyed. But I do have dinner plans with Carmine in a couple hours and that’s going to be a ton of fun.

Fuck dating.

What I need

It’s been an ongoing joke for weeks that I’m accepting applications for the position of “boyfriend” and with everything that’s been running through my head in the past couple of days I thought I should sit down and really revisit what I need.

I’m pretty sure when I say boyfriend people picture some cute accessory to my life. It’s probably because most of the time I think of boys as puppies. There are lots of things I want… like blue eyes and a hairy chest. But at the end of the day I’m actually looking for a partner—not a puppy, not a toy or an accessory, but someone who can compliment my life without getting in the way of it.

I actually caught myself saying to Rose in reference to The American, “He doesn’t live here. That’s awesome. He can’t interfere with my life. That might be a good distance.”

I wrote it out years ago. I just re-read it ten minutes ago. Most of it has remained the same, some of it I've updated. I think I’ve known for years what I really need.

So I’m throwing it out into the universe…

1. I want someone who can match me in every way. Who will not back down and who will challenge me. Someone who will help me realize my dreams and expand my mind.

2. I want to be with someone who is true in his opinion, will accept the challenge and communicate, and is stubborn and will argue rather than avoid, but will fight fair.

3. I want someone, whom I can learn from, in an equal partnership, who will ground me and who will create a sense of home.

4. I need a Man who is more powerful than I am. I need someone who I feel comfortable surrendering power and control to.

5. I want a man who adores how feminine and traditional I really am. I know my idea of traditional is different than most and juxtaposed with my ambition and independence it’s unique. I want to be his woman. I want to take care of my Man. I will honour and respect him and do everything I can to encourage and help him.

6. I want a partner with whom conversation will never be stale, who I can talk to about both the important things in life and about nothing

7. I need someone who appreciates my independence and will not feel threatened by it, or resentful of it. I need my space and my alone time. I’m a writer. It’s how I think, recharge, and refocus. I can’t handle clingy demands on my time and space.

8. I want a man who is ambitious, creative and intelligent, who is secure in his sense of self, and has his own life goals and dreams that do not come second to mine.

9. I want a partner who is educated and appreciates the dedication and commitment that it requires. He must love to learn, and love to think.

10. I want someone who I can be comfortable with in total silence

11. I need a man who I can snuggle up to and feel safe and protected

12. I deserve someone who understands unconditional love, and willingly offers to love me unconditionally and accept and return my level of commitment, dedication and loyalty. Someone who is emotionally available, will not take advantage of my love, nor hold back.

13. I deserve a man who respects and loves me enough to not deliberately disappoint or hurt me.

14. Trust. I need a man who I can trust with my life, my heart, and my soul. I will give him everything. I have to trust that he will take that responsibility seriously and protect me.

15. Honesty. It’s the foundation of every relationship I value. Even when it isn’t comfortable, I need a partner who will not lie to me. Lies of omission are still lies.

16. Appreciation of the beauty of life, and the simple pleasures.

17. I want a man who is physically active and takes care of his body and his health.

18. I want a man who is socially and environmentally responsible.

19. I will be with someone who respects my friends and family and my relationship with them, and who has a positive and healthy relationship with his own family.

20. I need a man who shares my values—especially of home, family, friendship, and loyalty. I’m looking for forever. I need a man who can understand and make that commitment.

21. I want a partner who wants children- who sees himself as a father and looks forward to being a part of a family.

22. I need someone who I can feel the energy between us, and the physical attraction cannot be ignored or rationalized, who is sexually compatible with me.

waiting...

My mind is full of random memories. In this rare occasion I’m wishing I had someone to curl up next to. It’s been too long since I had any physical companionship and I’m missing it right now. I’m churning with energy, vitality and purpose. Everything is snowballing in front of me and I believe I really truly believe that everything I’m working on will come together. I have faith.

I want to share it. I want someone to wrap their arms around me and know that I’m amazing. I want the release of passion and the strength of masculinity. I’m not lonely. It’s a different feeling. I’m feeling an urge to let myself be vulnerable. I want to fall in love. I want to feel safe in the arms of a man who will protect and adore me. It will come. I know it will… in time.

Yet I still miss both the Musician and Alexander. I miss the fragile intimacy of what The Musician was and I miss the unfinished idea of what Alexander could be.

I want to text one of them. It doesn’t matter which. In my mind they’ve become a united memory—something I desire only in secret. I won’t actually do it. I’ll go to bed with my care bear and snuggle warm under my covers, safe and determined to not be that foolish.
It’s the opposite of a void. I feel confined within myself. I want to break out of this protective shell and fall into something more powerful. It’s as though I’m splitting at the seams, restrained by time, waiting for the shell to crack open.

dating...

I’ve been meaning to write all week but never quite get around to it. It’s been a very productive, and exhausting, week. But things are coming together and I’m feeling very positive and passionate about where I am and where I’m going. Stay tuned for details in the coming months.

I love this feeling, just authentic, and powerful, and inspired. Positive people are all around me, and more keep appearing. I can feel it. They can feel it. I love it.

I’ve been dating a bit, partially because of boredom, partially searching for something special, and partially to maintain a level of distance from my ongoing affairs. I’m not sure if it’s working but at least I’m mostly having fun. I saw The Musician this week. Sometimes I am so content just to lie next to him. Sometimes he’s all I need.

A first date earlier in the week was perfectly enjoyable until he kept trying to get in my pants. What’s with that? I understand the attempt at the belt once-- maybe I’m feeling easy. But to try over and over again-- Just in case I forgot I said no 5 minutes ago?

Too often guys will insist on pushing the boundaries. Some will try to force my hands down his pants or try to stealthy undo my pants. (Like I’m not going to notice) Fuck it’s irritating! Then I have to be guarded and defensive. Seriously what’s with that? If I wanted to grab his cock— believe me I would. I know where it is.

On the other hand a lovely date last night left me with a soft smile and a quiet enjoyment of the moment. It was nice. He was intriguing enough to meet again today for tea. It was a mellow and sweet afternoon.

It’s been a good week. I’m having fun. I even have a video of me having fun with Justice at the movies. What can I say... I'm just awesome!!

giddy.

7-7-7 If I was superstitious then I guess today would be a lucky day. I’m going with it. I’m happy, giddy even. I love crushes. They’re so pure, like grade 9, before the cynicism sunk in, before the jaded began, before loss and before broken hearts. Right now it’s perfect, flirty and filled with possibilities. It feels lovely. I almost want to keep this crush in the pure fantasy of idealism but I’m done waiting patiently. I’ve been so good and even mostly appropriate for the past couple months. I want a taste now. Just a little one…

Live Earth is playing all over the world and I’m sitting naked in a cheap hotel room watching Bon Jovi and Lenny Kravitz rock the stadiums while I write. My next show is in 20 minutes. I suppose I should pretend to care but my body hurts and I’m too tired to get up even a minute before I absolutely have to. Maybe later I’ll change a few light bulbs and figure out what else I can do to help save the world. Then maybe I’ll giggle a bit more to my girlfriends about this lovely crush. I guess I’d better get dressed to get naked now.

Alexander

I can’t really discuss the details of this one. I’ve been intentionally avoiding mentioning him… well forever. Alexander is a bit of an enigma in my life and has been for years. Through all my stories he’s remained an intentional void that I’ve trying to brush off as insignificant. My closest friends know he exists, but almost no one knows who he is. He’s my secret.

I’ve been drawn to Alexander since the moment we met. He seduced me five years ago and I’ve been unable to walk away since. I was young, and infatuated with his dominance and charisma. His soft blue eyes saw through me faster than anyone previously or since. His arrogance fascinated and scared me. His manner would float between flirty and attentive, and condescending and dismissive. He was charming and manipulative, and I fell into his seduction. I loved the feel of his soft blonde hair between my fingers, his strong hands caressing my soft body, the smell of him, and the taste of his skin.

That was forever ago and now it’s just different. I don’t know what to say about him. I don’t know what to say about how I am around him… The reality is that once I accepted that The Musician and I had probably run our course I stopped avoiding Alexander. I hadn’t seen him in almost two years but we had been flirting over email for the past few months. I finally gave in and let him back into my life a couple weeks ago.

I expected it to be a no good very bad idea but things have changed, as I guess one would expect after five years, and I’m surprised. I grew up and the games we used to play have matured into something I can’t define.

I want to hate him simply because of what he represents and how impossible he is but I melt in his arms, wrapped in a false sense of comfort. I’m simultaneously powerful, content, and vulnerable. I feel exposed, weak, and intensely calm when I’m his presence. I alternate between adoring and despising him. I want him to kiss me and hold me, torment me, challenge and restrain me. I want him to caress me. I just want to feel his energy around me.

I’m apprehensive talking about it, but it’s real now and I’m having trouble avoiding the trepidation in my mind. I’m scared of him. I’m scared of how I feel about him and how I could feel. I like being around him. We’ve existed in such an isolated bubble that really we don’t know each other. I don’t know how to properly define it anymore but fuck-buddy is still probably the most accurate. I’m in unfamiliar territory and my level of vulnerability worries me. I doubt he wants me for anything more than a play toy but if I’m honest with myself I know I’m actually curious to get to know him. I could get hurt—I know.

Stripper room

I love this bar...
And yes... this is actually how I live while on the road.

boys...

The memories flood my heart as I slowly reintegrate into “real life”. Here I have a past. The hurt bubbles closer to the surface as my mind drifts back in time. I’m thinking about The Brat. I hate that I get so emotionally wrapped up in unavailable affairs. He’ll never call me, and we won’t be together. But when I left, I still hoped for the impossible. Now I’m back, and jolted back to the reality of my life. He doesn’t exist in my life. He isn’t enough of a man to be a part of my life.

Sunshine is apologizing for… nothing. Over msn he wants to tell me he’s sorry for how things ended, not that he feels responsible for anything. He uses blanket “I’m sorry” statements to absolve himself of any actual actions, or lack there of. He misses me… I don’t understand what he misses. He wants to talk to me… I don’t know that I have anything to say…

Merrick is explaining that he doesn’t want to talk to me because I’m rude and aggressive. He tries to understand, but a conversation with me is pointless. He wants us to talk like adults, I’m not sure we’re qualified. I'm not sure I care...

I’m back to The Musician. Sexy, predictable, and perfectly uncomplicated, he’s exactly what I need right now. Isolated and beautiful, we both selfishly take what we need. I appreciate his detached role in my life. He doesn’t want me to be someone else, or something else. He doesn’t want me to do anything, because it’s totally irrelevant. Perfect.

My friends are incredible. I feel confident, authentic, and open. I’m surrounded by Love, and friendship. I’m also intimately aware of how much I crave a true partner. I wish I had someone to come home to, someone to hold me, someone to miss me. I want a Man to actually see me for Who I Am, and Love me.

It’s worth waiting for… and so I wait.
Maybe someday…

Finally time to post... (and rant)

Where to begin… I’ve just finished two weeks at Whiskey A GoGo, and now on to Miss Nude Canada. It’s been a pretty interesting couple of weeks, so here it is… I’ve posted a few stories below, so scroll down and keep reading.

I’m packed, frustrated, and not ready for the contest. Sunshine never bothered to pick up my pool from the bar after Miss Nude Ontario so I’m pissed off and scrambling. I know I’ll figure it out, but it is one more thing on my “To do” list. Miss Nude Canada starts in 24 hours and I don’t have a pool. Fuck!

He’s pretty, but about as mature and useful as a slinky. The level of tolerance I have right now is just slightly above homicidal. I want to scream. I want to punch something. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand that this is important to me. Instead he’s defensive, dismissive, and completely without accountability. An apology of “I’m sorry, but it’s not really my fault” doesn’t count. A statement of “It’s not a big deal, it’s just a pool, just get a new one”, isn’t helpful in November.

The plan was for me to drive down and visit him after work last night, spend a bit of time and just relax. Instead I’m staying in the city for another night. I simply had no desire to see him after our conversation…

It’s not really my problem, or my responsibility. It’s not my job to get your pool
Well when you said sure no problem I’ll pick up your pool, it became your responsibility. Now I don’t have a pool.
Well I’m sorry but I was just waiting until I wouldn’t have to make a special trip
It’s 15 minutes, and it’s been 5 weeks.
Well I went down there and no one would talk to me. I asked, but I couldn’t get any information.
When did you go to the bar?
Not too long ago, they wouldn’t talk to me.
You went to the club at midnight on a Saturday night to ask about a POOL!?!
Yes.
(rolling eyes, and shaking head- not the brightest crayon in the box)
Of course they wouldn’t talk to you. Midnight on a Saturday!
Well I tried. It’s not my problem really.
Obviously not!
It’s not my job to get your pool. I don’t work for you. What are you going to do? Fire me?

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Um… Yes actually you stupid kid. Consider yourself fired. My actual words were slightly more civil… but not by much. I think I ended the conversation with “I have to pack.” Click.

Now while most of the world might not realize the importance of this pool I’m going to change a few words. Let’s change stripper to sales rep, pool to report and contest to promotion.

Get it?

I’m sitting in a coffee shop trying to catch up on my life. With a great deal of effort I’ve managed to remain somewhat civil to Sunshine throughout the day. He’s driving up to Toronto to drop off my bubble machine, but he’s lost. My phone rings and I’m already irritated. He’s whining. He doesn’t know where he is, and he doesn’t know where he’s going. My sharp response does nothing to defuse the tension. My voice is patronizing, and short. I remind him that I gave him a map book, he’s not a child, and I do just fine with a rental car and a map… maybe he should figure it out. I’m not helping, and I don’t care. I can’t remember the last time I dealt with such immaturity. It’s repulsive. Besides, he’s already fired.

After a few more arguments on the phone, and him wanting me to come find him, he finally stops bitching and follows my directions. I’m busy. I have a hell of a lot of stuff to get done today, and he can damn well drive another 10 minutes to the coffee shop. I’m not feeling very compassionate today.

I see his car pull into the parking lot, and ignore it. He struts arrogantly into the shop and drops a box at my feet. “Here.” He pronounces self-righteously, as though he’s going out of his way to do me a favour. “Thanks” is my brief reply before he turns and walks out.

I guess that’s done. Next!

I still need a pool.

Choices and Expectations

I’m on a bus to Brandon, Manitoba when I should be on a flight to Europe. This picture seems a little fucked up. I doubt my decision simply because I’m on a bus instead of a plane and I’m lost in a lot of uncertainty these days.

I don’t want to see Merrick, and I don’t have the finances to gallivant around Europe for two weeks. Perhaps I should have made it work, perhaps I shouldn’t have sacrificed a plane ticket- but I did. I feel a lot of frustration and anger towards Merrick, and I just didn’t want to spend two weeks defending myself. I’m incapable of explaining to him Who I Am.

Yes, I have a very powerful reaction to him. He’s an incredibly powerful personality and his energy can be intoxicating… or toxic. In one moment I can be totally infatuated and amazed by his passion and brilliance, and the next day be utterly infuriated by his stubborn intolerance and lack of understanding. The conversational assumption of “If you don’t want to be alone forever, why don’t you get a new job?” simply pissed me off. I’m alone because of Who I Am, and the reality of my choices, desires, and priorities. I’ve never been with anyone I could see a future with.

I’M NOT ALONE BECAUSE I’M A STRIPPER!!!

So I cancelled my vacation and booked work. I’m on a bus to Brandon while an empty seat is flying over the Atlantic. Ugh. I miss my friends, and I’m feeling like an outsider in this world again. I know why I’m here, and I was prepared for the sacrifice of my personal life this fall. I’m trying to establish my name, and reputation. That takes time. It takes work, and being away from home for a few months. Of course I’m homesick. That’s just what I do.

I found myself in an interesting situation this afternoon. I was invited to a friend’s house for breakfast and “church”. I felt old. I felt like explanations were pointless and I desperately missed the open discussion and acceptance of those I call friends. Religion is such a complicated issue, especially when beliefs are challenged. I don’t know if I should get into that… maybe another day… Right now I’m feeling like everyone who understands me, loves me, and accepts me is a million miles away… or 3000 km which really is far enough.

I don’t know what to call it, or how to define it, or even how to explain it, but I guess Sunshine is a bit of a relevant topic these days. He’s young. He’s lovely, but I’m aware of how distant our experiences are. I’m reminded of the struggles and frustrations of relationships from years ago. There were moments when I felt like I was in high school again.

I want a Man.
I still haven’t found one.

I don’t know what the future will hold for Sunshine and I. Really we don’t know each other. We didn’t grow up together; we haven’t had the time or opportunity to delve into the unique beauty of the individual. I felt him fall into the fantasy, and I watched him become enamored with the illusion of the lifestyle. It wasn’t pleasant. There were moments when I felt incredibly frustrated and disrespected. There were moments when I forgot to enjoy and accept Who He Is, and became distracted by What I Want.

He is lovely, curious, fresh, and young. I would love to watch him grow. I hope he someday becomes the Man I feel the potential for, but he’s not there. He won’t be there for years. I’m guilty of loosing myself in the escape. I wanted to be held, and cherished, and adored for a moment. I wanted to pretend it was real, and create that holy moment of unity. I wanted to hope for something.

I still hope.

I needed to find some distance from that situation in order to regain my appreciation for who he is. I do like him and I do hope that our friendship has a chance to grow. I like the feel of him next to me. I smile when I hear his voice. I do want to share something with him. I just don’t know what…

We'll see how it goes...

I’m in Kingston. I don’t really know what I’m doing and I’m feeling pretty lost and alone. Snuggles with Sunshine seem like a million years ago, and it hurts that it was only yesterday that I kissed him goodbye. It was an amazing few days and I desperately want to savor the taste of the moment. I want to remember the taste of his soft lips on mine, the total comfort of his arms around me, and the delicate caresses and lingering kisses. I met Sunshine in a different world, separated from everything personal that defines our lives. We were isolated, and intrigued. I knew he had a crush on me, and I couldn’t resist creating the opportunity to visit him.

Sunday was perfect. It was a holy moment of beauty and friendship. We wandered aimlessly through the wine festival, savoring the samples, flirting, and just enjoying the company. Ice cream and ice wine became my dinner as crab dumplings, and butter chicken served as an appetizer. The wine flowed and the giggles started. There were never any expectations, but flirty tension crackled. It was a perfect day.

I feel safe with him. The days that followed were delightful. Really, we did nothing. Shared lunch and dinner, watched movies, laughed and talked, and curled up in each others arms. I wish I could hold onto that. I didn’t want to leave, but I’m here for a reason. I have to keep going.

Tonight though I am in a strange town, lost and alone, I want to run home. I’m so fragile and weak right now. My pride is shaky and my ego is bruised. I know I’m good enough. I know I’m a good entertainer and I can pull this off, I just don’t feel it. I’m good enough, but I’m not seasoned enough. I’m still relatively new to the business. I haven’t been dancing for a decade, and I’ve only been featuring for a short time. I’ve never worked in Ontario before, and I feel like I was thrown to the wolves.

I want to run home, but my pride is keeping me here, at least for a bit. I need to figure out what to do, and I can’t stay in Starbucks all night.

guess I'm just stupid...

Am I fucking invisible?

Why am I the one that gets to suck it up, shed a few tears, and keep going? I just want someone to take care of me instead of throw me away. I know how lonely I am. “I don’t want to hurt her.” But fuck feel free to disrespect and discard me. Feel free to ignore my plea for compassion and admission of vulnerability. I asked him to not put me in this position. Feel free to disregard everything I feel. I’m alone on the road, again, and he doesn’t want to hurt HER! Fuck you! What about me? What about my daily routine of wiping away tears to create a serene expression?

I clutch the phone to my ear, sniffling and raging into the mouthpiece. I want to hate him. I’m so disappointed in myself for walking into this again. She listens. She wants to yell at him too. He hurt me. Tears cloud my vision as the car winds its way back to my hotel. Two more shows. I don’t understand. He likes me. He doesn’t want to hurt HER! It hurts. I don’t know why I’m supposed to be irrelevant and invincible. I don’t feel invincible.

I don’t understand. He likes me. We’ve always been drawn to each other since the day we met, over five years ago. We were together last year. We were together before they rekindled their relationship. Then I went on tour. He chose her. He wants a relationship with me, but he won’t leave. It’s not working, and inevitably they will go their separate ways, but not yet. He likes me, but in his mind it’s complicated. I get to be the one to fall. Maybe you don’t leave the good girl, with the good family and the picture perfect scene to take a risk on the stripper. Perhaps I’m too far removed from an acceptable life. He likes me, and I like him, and now I have to walk away... It hurts.

The TV flickers a superficial distraction as I struggle to rebuild the illusion. I want to yell at him. I’ve already yelled at myself. In spite of my experience, I fail to hold on to complete cynicism. I really should. I dared to hope. I dared to believe for a moment that it could be something other than a mistake.

I glance at the clock and drop my jeans to the floor. The mirror reflects my sadness. My eyes glisten with tears. I pull off my tank top and bra and examine my naked body in the mirror. I need to tan more. Slowly I paint on a new layer of makeup, a fresh layer untouched by tears. I smooth out my flushed emotions beneath foundation. My lips shine, liquid. Liner protects my secrets, and shadow detracts from the lies of sweet seduction. I hesitate with the mascara, reluctant to risk exposing myself, but add a touch. A final sheet of powder and blush create a soft and sexy deception. I still want to cry, but I won’t until after my shows. Maybe I am invincible. Maybe I’m just too good at becoming fictitious. Tonight, alone in my hotel, clutching my care bear, the emotions will flood. I might cry, but I doubt it. After hours of giggling, flirting and dancing I have trouble expressing anything real. Maybe I’m just too good at compartmentalizing.

It’s time to be the fantasy again… two more shows… I need happy stripper music.

the pattern continues...

I wish I could believe. I want to have faith that I won’t be alone forever, but I don’t. I don’t think I’m the sensible choice, and I don’t believe any man I want would ever be foolish enough to take that risk. I’m never going to be the easy choice. I just don’t believe it. I’m the mistress. It’s all I know, and it hurts.

It’s hard for me to find someone I can relate to on the level I need. There are days when people challenge me on it and it’s annoying. It’s hard for me. I’m not willing to compromise my standards, just my boundaries… over and over again. I’m so tired of being the other woman I just want to scream. I want to cry. My eyes stare blankly at the screen, fighting the mist of pain floating just behind this expressionless mask.

I was with the Brat last night. (I’ll take dumb ideas of the day for $200 Alex)
There were too many reasons to not go, and only one reason to see him. I wanted to. I missed him. I wanted to be near him and cling to every second of time I could spend with him. I knew it was a bad idea. I knew it was inevitable. I know we created the circumstances. It was lovely. I miss him. But always lingering in my mind are his choices. He chose someone else and I feel like a fucking fool for being vulnerable again. I’m standing here waiting for him to hurt me again. I’m waiting for him to tell me he doesn’t want me. I don’t believe I will hear anything else. It’s all I know. I snuggle closer to him, shrouding myself in his warmth. I hide from my fear in his arms. I close my eyes to shut out reality and steal these precious moments. I just want to feel something other than disappointment. I want to hope.

It was a bad idea. We’ve been trying so hard to keep out visits within time constraints, in public places. The sexual tension masks the reality, we should not be here. I should not be here.

I’m leaving soon. I have to pack and organize my life. I don’t want to go. This tour is too long, and I’m already homesick. I’m excited to see a few friends, and I’m looking forward to work, but I don’t want to go. I don’t want to be alone every night. I don’t want to lie in bed at night clutching my care bear and denying tears. I don’t want to watch couples on the street while craving the simplicity of human contact. I like his hand grasping the back of my neck.

I’m feeling lost and ashamed. I wish I was stronger. I’m angry that I’m letting him hurt me. I’m disappointed in myself for loosing my resolution in that holy moment, for wanting it, for allowing him to make me the other woman again. I’m annoyed that my independence is such an efficient excuse. I don’t need him. I’m okay alone. I don’t want a boyfriend, or a distraction, or a mirage. I want a partner. I want to be real.

But instead I’m going to get on a plane. I’ll be back at Christmas… Maybe with some distance I’ll just forget the sting of impossible situations. Maybe someday I’ll actual break this pattern. Maybe someday I’ll be more than the other woman… maybe someday for someone. Maybe someday I’ll believe it, but not today.

return of the Brat

I need to write my way out of my head. My thoughts are spiraling around emotions too fast to process. I’m still raw. I like being emotionally present. I like being vulnerable, but it’s not easy.

I had lunch today with the Brat. It’s the first time we’ve really had an honest conversation in almost a year. We really fucked that one up. I want to say “he was an ass, and I don’t want that in my life”. I want to say “what was there is gone and I’m glad” but I can’t.

I still care. My heart is still there, as it always has been. I’m reflecting on OUR mistakes. I fucked up. He fucked up. Timing was a bitch, and communication suffered. I was a disaster last year, and totally unavailable for what we were starting. It should have been something. It was something. It was real, but became shrouded in silence and assumption. It was friendship, but became lost in fear. It was beautiful, but was sacrificed to circumstance.

I watch him from from across the table, defensive yet determined. He wants to fix the friendship. I'm wrapped in sadness. I’m sad for what we lost, for the pain I feel, but mostly I’m sad for what we could have shared. I can still taste it.

I watch him play ball with a puppy as we sit and talk with an old friend. I stare out at the water, marveling at the exquisite view. The colours of the water shimmer the reflection of the sky, but deeper and stronger. There is peace here. I love it.

I have hope for the friendship.

We walk... I close my eyes and feel his energy play in mine. I feel him near me. I catch my breath as I’m thrust into awareness; the sexual tension is still there. Dammit!! The conversation flows naturally into ambitions, plans, travel, and academia… school… work… Present romantic situations are not discussed, hinted at, nor acknowledged. I need today to be about me. I need to feel that I am special, that he missed me, and that the relationship we share is unique, valuable, and real. I do.

I rest my head on his shoulder and allow myself to relax under his hand. His energy is warm and caring. I’m torn between the false preservation of defensiveness and the desire to just be open. I like the feel of him beside me. I like his hand stroking my hair. I like the familiar flirtation. I like knowing this moment is special. It’s a holy moment between two souls struggling with mistakes and desires. I want to salvage the friendship. I know it’s real. I want to wrap his energy around mine and make things right. I want him to kiss me, but I'm trying not to think about that. I’m trying so hard to break the cycle. Denying the feelings never seems to effectively eliminate the pain. I don’t want to be the other woman anymore.

It’s been a beautiful afternoon, and I will cherish it.

I don’t really know what to do tomorrow. I don’t know what path our friendship will take but I’m just going to be honest in every moment as it comes, as best I can

like a vampire

I want to be more than I am alone. I crave to be purified by degradation. FUCK!! I have so much power! Harness me! Direct me. It oozes from my eyes and penetrates everything I touch. I feel it building. I feel the vibrancy culminating deep in my core. GROWL!! Like a Vampire. Lustful.

I don’t want sex, it’s too easy. I want life. I want to eat it, taste it, and suck the blood from the very essence of this life. I want to touch it, let it flow through my fingers and over my body. The music matches my pulse. I am lustful, demanding, seductive and manipulative. I will steal it, revel in it. Fulfilling a brief hunger, but it grows…

My silence is misleading. My smile is a deception of purity. A chalice waiting to be filled I throw myself into the moment. Own me. Worship me. Crave me. It’s an illusion of what I desire. I use these men. In a moment I can be what they want. I am a fantasy and muse. I am desired and despised. I take their energy, feeding on the lust. I use them. I want to be their object. I fantasize about submission. I hate them for being so weak. I love them for the mutual objectification.

Abandon ego, expectations, and demands. I become more. Purified by objectification, I am free from societal expectations. I don’t need to be strong, independent, or professional. I am Woman.

Through dancing I vanquish my fears, insecurities and weaknesses. I am free. I dance with abandon, passionate and primal, open to the energies that surge through the room. I’m searching for the truth. I’m searching for the strength to hold me.

...Use me, I’m beautiful. Take me. I’m yours. Hurt me. It feels like medicine, all I deserve...

I am infatuated with a dear friend of mine. I’ve decided to call him Merrick. I don’t know what path we are meant to walk. I don’t know if he and I will ever be together, but it doesn’t matter. All I want is what he offers. I love it for what it is, today in this moment. But I do fantasize about him. He is so powerful and charismatic, intoxicating. I could see it. I don't know who I will be with, but I could see him as my home. I want to release myself from my defenses and truly allow myself to fall in love.

My heart is ready to love. I am vulnerable, open. Quietly I wait for my Man. I wait for the One who will take me. It may be years… I wonder who it will be.

...But with you it’s understood. You make me feel strong. Your arms look so powerful when they hold me down...

Go, get married.

I want to not care. I want to walk away and never look back. I want the curiosity to diminish and the memories to grow faint. I want to cut the ties. I have no expectations, only those of hurt and disillusion. My only expectation is that he will never really go away, that no matter what I do someday I will turn the corner on the street and he will be there. I’m scared that when that does happen, everything will crumble and I will still love him.

I wish I was indifferent. I worry that I never will be. Sadly, I know unconditional love too well. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes I am relieved to know it hasn’t been lost. That corner of my heart that loves forever is still beating, still feeling. Even when the numbness spreads and freezes my tears behind my eyes, it lives. I love. It took me three years to recover from The Artist. I know I cannot force nine years of turmoil and attachment to evaporate in nine months. Yet, I try.

Nothing about him is good for me. We will never be together, always apart, always casually tugging on the past. I don’t want it. He has nothing to offer me, and though I do love him, I know part of me will always love him. I don’t want this masochistic thread to continue. Let me walk away. I hate knowing that casual messages will always come through my sister. I hate knowing he still tries to contact me, not in reality, but just detached enough to ensure I’m still there.

I don’t know what he wants from me. I don’t know that he cares for me. I don’t believe he loves me. I believe he is comfortable in knowing I am there. I know the choice was made. I know when the door was open, he chose. (He did not choose us) We are nothing. There is no future, and the past is littered with disrespect and diversions.

I’m not going to lie, pretend, or fake it. I care. I am still hurt and angry. I’m not surprised, but I am disappointed. I am disappointed in myself for loving you. I am disappointed in myself for ever hoping that you felt the same. I’m angry at myself for failing to forget, for allowing my thoughts to linger, for every moment I am reminded of you. I am smarter than this, and I know you have nothing positive to offer me.

Maverick, Go! Get married. You don’t need my forgiveness, blessing or permission. We are nothing. We are not friends, not lovers, not companions. You can’t know me anymore. I don’t want you to know me.