Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Open sesame

I'm a pussy when it comes to severe injuries... severe, bloody injuries.
I will cry and holler... and look away... but not allow anyone near the fucked up area.

I guess you can say I'm a little scandalous... dramatic, I prefer "dramatic."

When it comes to heartbreak, I'm pretty much the same.
I bleed like a motherfucker, refuse ANYONE'S assistance, cower, and hope to die a quick death.

I was in a horrible place around... ummm... the ends of July. August was a fucking disaster. It went on like this up until... the moment I stepped foot in Mexico City in December.
I'm speaking romance-department.

In July, my brain finally made that connection... that... click... where it told my heart "Yo, nine years was enough... it's not going to happen... Darcy's dead... Darcy never existed. Please, please just move on! Let him live his life, you finally live YOURS," and my heart actually listened.
Of course, being the drama queen I am, my heart couldn't accept this news without fully imploding itself. A bloody fucking mess. I mean... fuck, did you see my updates for the month of October and beginning of November? I was dying.
But I had to let go of that... hope. Of that feeling... of that very pretty feeling. It was only hurting me, and well, I'm sure my behavior was only annoying him.

I've been told far too many times to "open" myself up. I always scoffed... I still scoff just writing it.
I went to this wedding with a clear mind. I wasn't looking for anything... I had ZERO expectation to even flirt with any guys... I purposely tried to keep to myself. After realizing what a weirdo I must have appeared to the others-- that tall, dark girl who refuses to converse with anyone, yeah, not scary at all-- I decided to be FRIENDLY.
And by golly! Did things change!
I was gross as hell, since I was hit by the flu bug pretty hard... coughing up a lung, runny nose, watery eyes, and that very seductive tranny voice I acquire when sick.
But STILL, dudes thought I was cool.

I made the strongest link with the barely-legal dude... which... god... I feel so embarrassed about. I'm such a DUDE! Scoping out fresh meat like that... so gross.
Anyway, while my link with the young one was strong, I also connected with two of the frat bros. One in particular makes me smile because he reminds me of a young Richard Gere. Young Richard Gere flirted with me all night the night of the wedding... him and his sexy smile and pretty eyes... ufff!
There I was, gross as gross can be, yet dudes weren't running from me-- quite the contrary, they were plucking me out of my seat to take me out to dance.

So, lesson learned: open you heart. It's not that I was LOOKING for anything, but I made the conscious effort to quit acting like an army widow... constantly yearning for her dead husband... perpetually mourning his loss.
I smiled at boys, I responded to their questions with a smile... and I answered honestly... and I was kind. I was me (true to form, I crossed a line a little with my sarcasm... but that only happened once, and I cut that shit out immediately after).

Open your heart, and you might just find yourself a young'un who finds you to be... pretty cool.
Young one that makes you forget how fucking uptight you are about the English language...
Your? I let that slip...
WHO am I?!
The grammar doesn't get better, either.
Cute petnames, right? So dreamy to call one another such classy names.

And then I get all giddy about it to Pacemaker... and proceed to laugh hysterically.

Oh, how she knows me.
But... can you blame me? Just look at him! THAT BACK! Good lord!

Literally riding a white horse...
Seriously Universe? I'd roll my eyes if I wasn't too busy smiling like a dumbass, cheeks forcing my eyes shut.

I'm hopeless.


KK said...

Anyone who self identifies as dickhead boy is worthy of having around IMO ;) regardless of you being Mrs. Robinson.. ;)

AnoMALIE said...

aaaaabsolutely! hahaha :)