Bubbling Pot Of Expectations.

I have never hidden the fact that I preferred to date younger men, in fact I made that common knowledge for most of my adult life. 

I found myself attracted to the virility of youth, the power of a younger man's ego and convictions, their zest for more in life and the fact that they were not jaded so, we often had more time to enjoy each other. 

Of course then I deviated from this pattern, and got impregnated by someone slightly - not significantly - older than I, resulting in a complete reboot of what I thought had been my final programming. 

Fast forward, I am now a thirty year old woman. 

Do you know what that means for me? 

You don't ? 

Neither do I. 

"youthful virility" ... go on ... judge me.

Honestly I went through the panic before I turned 30, worrying that I had achieved absolutely nothing besides becoming a single mother and disappointing my own mother further by being unwed and underachieving in any set career mode. Then the big day came and honestly, it was over so quickly and my mind adjusted to telling people " I'm 30 " without so much as even a blink to calculate. 

The major changes came though, I became quite aware that I am playing the ass with my time, and also aware that I have been hitched to shit that is also not worth my time. 

So I began to hustle like there's no tomorrow. 

I have officially been unemployed since October, but haven't actually been out of work for any more than 2 weeks at a time, making enough for the period that I am employed within to hold me over, once things were good. 

I began taking a microscopic view of my "relationships", and realized that the main one was a waste of time. It was not growing in any direction. Completely moribund, to be honest. 

Get your minds outta the gutter, it is a measurement regarding intellectual
... erm... growth? 

My sexual interests were replaced by an extreme hunger for intellectual challenge and emotional capability. I am an alpha-female, the glaring truth remains that there is no male, incapable of forming a basic conversation with me regarding public issues, who remains soft and malleable under my ferocity and unwavering bellicose attitude, that is capable of being involved with me for a period of time longer than seven months. 

As nature would have it, the stars aligned that fateful night of the first Blood Moon/ Lunar Eclipse. 

Long story short, I ended up meeting someone so dynamic they have continued to leave me hungry to sidle up into their mind, and just get inside that head of his and run around naked until I am intimately familiar with every corner dark and light. 

Here's the big kicker for me.. 

annnnnnnnnnd just like that... they done fucked me right up.
Ton and a Half of bullshit... how am I supposed to choose here?

He's 10 years older than I. 

Not much to you eh? 

Since I turned 18, I have only ever been seriously involved, with 2 men 6 years my senior, never a day more, and my BEST relationship, - security, dexterity, lack of conflict, support, attraction and raw affection outweighing all others- was with a guy 2 years my junior. For me, ten years is a massive leap. Ten years is the culmination of all my fears of him wanting to control me, to own me, to possess me, and losing my identity in his, ten years is the difference between stamina and lethargy, ten years is me wanting to go out and shake my ass every now and then, maybe hit a strip club, and a man telling me he's not into that so I MUST stay home to keep up the appearance that I am the doting and controlled girlfriend. 

That ten year difference has terrified me out of talking to many a man in the past, because right out the gates they all demonstrated, both verbally and non-verbally any three or more of my fears. 

Then I met him, at a blasted bondage themed party of all places, and he made me question everything I thought I knew. 

Conversations were ripe, conflicting opinions were met with perfervid debate and never ending cycles of conversation which feel so natural I have to remind myself ... "OLD BOY IS RIGHT ON THE CUSP OF OVER THE FUCKING HIIIILLLLLLLLLLLLL!!! " and then poke in a quick jib to bring us both back to reality. 

The real shocker is his appreciation of my candor and dismally disguised abruptness, he relishes it, like a man who has been fed simple gruel every day for years, and then he's introduced to lasagna. In fact, he matches it, completely comfortable baring all his sins for me to pick whichever I find distressing, of course this process takes time, as we're feeling out the terrain that we will be walking upon.

We have gotten to the point where it has been stated " every relationship begins with this excitement, then that quickly wanes, and complacency takes over, the difference with us should at least be the fact that neither of us seems to be the least bit interested in getting so comfortable, as to get bored with the other." 

... 

Just like that I'm off on another adventure, and I think I might like my new company more than any other. 

My expectations have never been lower, as I expect nothing. Only honesty, and he seems mature enough to understand and deliver on that.

Addiction

Everyone thinks they know me.

Everyone thinks they understand me for where I have come from, been through and done in the past.

Truth is, I don't even know me.

Or maybe I do but I don't have a clue what it is I'm looking at.

I've been managing several different addictions on my own, and up until a month ago I was getting it done.

Then something happened and I just let go control, thinking it was for a little bit, but everything collapsed.

Now here I am questioning my sanity, my resolve, my so called ability to control myself before everything.

The only thing I know for certain is I can see that I am losing control.

The time I spend with my daughter, I'm fine, but when I'm functioning without her, I have to have at least 2 vices present.



Everything I worked on for the past 3 years, to suppress have all come back and in roaring form, pain, sex, drugs and alcohol...  and I'm losing the struggle.

Beginning to doubt I ever had control in the first place.

And because of how I am, I face it alone most of the time, unless I run away, but I can only escape for a few moments and then I'm alone again.

There are no 12 steps to control for me.

I don't know anything but excess, I revel in it.

The major difference now, is I respect the consequences because they affect the one person I value more than my own weak existence, if not for her, I would be that cold shell who left the clubs 3 years ago and never cared to call back the next day.

How long until I make the mistake and forsake her to answer the beast that is my nature?

I managed to screw up everything and then some, in a month, so, I understand it is a grim eventuality I face that one day I won't be able to pull back, I won't be able to, or want to stop myself.

Guess I for all my talk am the essence of a hypocrite, I lack control to even master my own bullshit but can sit here doling out advice, like some omnipotent screen shrink.

Believe I am terrified, because all I know is to do it alone, and I have yet to meet anyone who can endure me long enough to really impact my own stubborn will.

See, everyone thinks they know me, but they can never know the silent tears that fall as I realize I will fail her because I lack the simple strength to keep my own demons in check.

The same demons that brought me to her, are the ones that will cost me the most valuable treasure ever.

The Truth About The Pierced Princess- Or A Simple Crock Of Lies I Told.

Just how many sheep are there? 

I'm into body modification. That much is obvious when you count the 11-13 tattoos I have, the various piercings I have had and removed over the years ( eyebrow, labret, tongue x2, ears x8, navel by 4 and most recently my septum, which I haven't removed and am in absolute love with ) and the fact that I can't honestly say I wouldn't like to look down one day and see my entire body covered in ink, but I just don't have the time for it. Each of my tattoos, save for 1, are nearly 10 years old and scheduled for either touch ups or covering, but, then there's the healing time for them. 

Meh. 

To be honest this isn't what I want to talk about, I want to speak specifically about my septum piercing. 

I frankly adore most septum piercings, and decided I want one for myself, and went and got one. 

Since doing that, I have had countless people asking me why I did it, giving myself a "bull ring". So, purely for my entertainment, I plucked at the vast and expansive knowledge stored in my inexhaustible brain, and came up with a convincing yet completely unsupported, utter hogwash, hilarious, "fact" surrounding my nose ring. 

FIERCE.
dinner time must be a riot with him.

It is absolutely farcical, how many people in Barbados will believe anything you say justifying your choice to modify your body, as long as you include the word "Africa" in your conclusive explanation. So far I have told 5 people it is a sign of royalty amongst eastern African tribal women, only the princess was allowed to pierce her septum, I have told 2 people it is a sign that I am a descendant of Egypt, and I have told other people it was used by the tribes in Central Africa to control and reduce pains of womanhood. 

Fulani woman, who looks like my Aunty Pat,
who's daughter is my piercing partner and
best friend of 25 years.
I KNEW SOMETHING WAS UP.

Not one of these people questioned me, not a single one even so much as doubted me, they all actually accepted and are now defending me ( I cannot tell you how hard I am laughing about this, it's HILARIOUS ), and furthermore see me as even more educated and a follower of the ROOTS RECOGNITION movements. 

Now, tickled as I am at these things, I find it a bit disconcerting that persons can so easily be fed any drivel I make up, once I am somber enough during my delivery, and they not only swallow it whole, they LIVE in it. 

I'm not too far gone to have forgotten when I first got my tattoos and was called a "wannabe white girl" who was "following the white skin heads, and neonazis" by defiling my body with their "European fads" with my tattoos... 

Yet, here society is, eating up anything I say about my choices to pierce, all because I use "Africa" as an excuse. 

This all started me thinking again, about why I am so vehemently opposed to swallowing dogma without question. 

Anyone can tell you anything, providing they tell you it in a convincing enough manner, you will be inclined to believe them, because you WANT to believe them, because you NEED to believe them, for your own selfish justification of acceptance. 

Or, you can actually dare to question them, and seek answers for yourself, wherever that may lead you, until that yearning for knowledge is completely satisfied. 

* ps. It is tribes from upper Africa, and the Middle East, who pierced their septum, along with some warrior tribes from upper eastern, all mostly nomadic, to give a fiercer appearance, amongst many other older civilizations,

... but don't take my word for it. LOOK IT UP! *

Investment? What Am I? Lucrative Stock? GTFOH!

" When a man invests in a woman " 

..But hold on a minute... 

TWEET LIKE RASSHOLE MAN!
TWEEEEEEEEEET.
FLAGRANT!

What context are we using this term "invest" in ? 

The definition of the word "invest" via my google bar is 

1. expend money with the expectation of achieving a profit or material result by putting it into financial schemes, shares, or property, or by using it to develop a commercial venture. 

2. provide or endow someone or something with (the state invests upon magistrates and justices of the peace)

3. clothe or cover with a garment.

4. surround (a place) in order to besiege or blockade it. 

Now being completely honest, none of these sound very "loving" to me ... 

So I cannot appreciate in any context a man stating I, as the woman he is enamored with, is an investment, nor can I promote the use of the term, regarding why the mentally and emotionally violently unstable men happen to be killing their women, who they "loved" and "invested" in. 

What is so hard to understand about the fact that no human being is your possession therefore does not require your INVESTMENT into claiming them? 

Yes, that's what you creatures are doing, investing into the claim of a woman. 

S

ince when was love about possession? and since when is emotional enslavement acceptable?

women, stop allowing men to own you, its seriously counter productive, backward as shayhaywhitey and offensive to the stalwart foremothers of our blah blah - insert overly repeated and enunciated speech about women's rights activists in past years here - 

I checked, I contain no traces of bovine, equine, ovine or porcine dna...
but it's early and I'm having mince meat for lunch, brb!

I certainly am not livestock, property nor anyone's commercial venture... 

If a man is going to invest in my presence, let him put my name on a payroll, and we'll sort out a job description that I can utelize an appropriate tax bracket for. 

At the end of our contract, he can remove himself and move on ... like any other investor would at the end of alloted time. 

Not strangle the life out of me in a jealous rage because I found a more lucrative and creative investor. 

The Joy Of Closure

There's this delicious sensation that comes with closure, let me tell you, its powerful juju.

Day before yesterday you would swear I was drunk as fuck from my constant laughter.

If you got loose ends from a relationship, trust me, tie that shit up! You'll rejoice like you found religion and it comes with your favorite chocolate!

Had a cuss out for someone but you stopped because you wanted to be the bigger person, and you did this one too many times and now its weighing on your soul and is the proverbial dark cloud over your head?

Imagine you don't HAVE to cuss them out, contrary to popular belief I have walked away from enough cuss outs that people deserved and then later informed them quite casually that they had it coming, but I chose to be diplomatic, and reconsider my approach, instead of directly cussing them out, I took my time and outlined to them why I chose to not waste my generous tithes of profanities upon their illegitimate asses, and instead chose to be quiet until I had worded my anger in a less vile manner.

End result, closure upon that issue, and the load is lifted, you get to move forward, minus that playing on your mind non stop.

I have actually employed it enough times in life to say its more satisfying that telling ppl off, or holding in anger or deep emotions for prolonged periods of time ...

Incredibly, it physically manifests itself as well, I literally glowed in person, and in capture.

You could see that I "felt better" and it was infectious and exhilarating too, officially recommend tying up loose ends... 

The art of Closure, is one I am eternally grateful to have begun understanding! 

Burning the Bridges Without Remorse

Weeeellll... 

Somehow this weekend I got the good common sense up to begin a conversation with the absent denying father of my child's mother. 

Who in essence would be the grand mother of my child. If she were to be accepted by myself as such. 

Which ... isn't going to happen. 

After 3 years of my running from that conversation, which addresses the fact that I had no idea his other child's mother were actually involved - I DID NOT KNOW, I WAS TOLD SHE WAS A SITUATION AND HE'S SINGLE- long story short, my daughter was born 6 months after the other daughter was born, and mine is the one that's trying to be forced on a man (by forced, he means I simply have admitted HE is the father, not that I ever want a penny from him, nor him to get pictures, since he's been deported FROM Barbados TO Guyana for being a too stupid to know when to quit jackass, not that I want him to do such stupid and hypocritical bullshit as call us asking how the child he said he would rather see dead in my belly with me dead as well, the child he cursed to suffer and told me if she ever comes around him again he will hurt her, I simply say he is the father, and I am FORCING a child on him) who had me all up in the club, as his wings, had me hired at the club to be his supervisor, who was distributing his meager $250 pay stubs come the end of a week,  who everyone swore was his girlfriend going and coming, because no one else ever saw the real girlfriend. 

I finally chose to reach out to his mother, because she apparently had reached out to me, and I shot it down shortly after my daughter was born (I dont want him in her life for any reason before she is old enough to accurately pull a trigger to defend her life and be able to hit that target without second guessing herself, knowing that it is her life, or whatever is coming at her, any ties to his mother at that time seemed like a window for him to slither through).

I felt that as a woman, I needed to close that chapter and make my stance clear, I don't want anything from her, nor him, or any member of the family. I simply wanted to answer her unasked questions because I know how it can feel being completely left in the dark regarding a relative. 

So I contacted her via the other daughter's mother. 

Lord Krishna what a stupid idea. 

Now Baby Mama #1 and I are cool, we talk like regular girl friends, after all she REALLY got to the bottom of that man's insanity shortly after my daughter was born and began to see that I wasn't lying about anything regarding his sociopathic delusions. 

Grandmother doesn't like that at all, of course not, here I am, calling her son's name with my bastard baby, and everybody knows I slept around with Toohoo, Baku and La.  (funny ... no one else knew that but that's what he's told his entire family and close circle... I chuckle at the fact that none of them know fuck all about me, but know EVERYTHING about me from a man who has been a whole Sergeant in some American Army - but still got deported from there too- and on loan to the Barbados Defense Force as some "trainer" - yet trained down in Rodney's gym instead of the on the BDF grounds , posted in Afghanistan, draws anime -which looked eerily like my best friend's work, in fact, it was my best friend's work- and writes poetry, sleeps with any 8 women who can pay for his latest brand stuff ... yeeeeeeah... ok).

Anyway, after my written monologue to her, I felt lighter, I don't want her approval or acknowledgement of the child, definitely don't want his. 

I felt closure, I felt like if I could now stop looking over my damn shoulders and let my child live freely, I felt completely relieved that I don't have to do that again. 

I certainly am not the first, last nor only woman to have gotten pregnant for a man who has no interest in being the father of her child, who's tried his hardest to destroy her character -good luck buddy, my reputation is everyone else's business, my character however, is mine, and I am ruthlessly efficient at keeping it at the top of the field- 

But I am the woman who is now more than ever, prepared to be the BEST MOTHER my child could ever have had, and overjoyed to know I missed the bullshit drama ferry! 

Rambling On Love

Seems like I have a lot more to say here than I thought, after all I'm the quintessential multifaceted contradiction to every rule. 

In a strange way all that's on my mind recently is love, I just don't acknowledge it in my normal day to day monologues/dialogues on social media, but it's definitely on my mind.

Have you ever wondered if the mold was not broken after that first model was made? Meaning somewhere out there is a second or third or even more copy of the original model? 

I hope to god so. 

Hell, he might even be better than the first edition. 

If I ever meet this guy ... there goes my virginity again.

Taller, with tattoos, and finally mine ... 

That would solve quite a lot of my issues with monogamy. 

Face it, I suck at being monogamous, and I refuse to lie about it to anyone interested in being involved with me, but it all stemmed from some interesting shit a few corners in the road called life before I became conscious.

I'm not saying I'm completely closed off to the idea of being singly involved with a man, I'm just saying, given what I'm presented with for men, that just won't work.
Especially since I know exactly what I want in a man, and where to find it. Which is normally not in any of the eager victims who run forward into my Enchanted Forest of Thorns and Wolves ... 

Maybe, a change of pace will change my mind.