Trust for me feels like algebra. I know it exists, but I don’t understand it. I’m following the rules, trying to figure it out. My feet are begging me to walk away, and I stay planted, determined almost, to crack the algorithm of you. If I could just solve you… But I don’t trust you. You told me not to, in so many words.

“I hate that you’re so easy to talk to.”

“Please don’t fall in love fast.”

“Women think they can change me, but they can’t.”

“You left an impression on me.”

“You’re the first girl in a long time that has me thinking.”

“They’re not you.”

“My entire being comes alive when I am around you.”

“I had up to five girls in my rotation.”

“I let them each believe that they had a shot at being the girlfriend.”

“I don’t want to hurt her or you.”

“I like to have my cake and eat it too.”

“Who’s pussy is this?”

“You’ve got me feeling jealous.”

“Obviously you chose the other guy. I am nobody’s consolation prize.”

“She was upset when I told her about you.”

“She’s okay with it now.”

“I’m busy this weekend.”

“You should get me a dime bag for my birthday.”

“Can you grab some cookies on your way?”

“Can I hit that vape again?”

“Can you help me figure out my life?”

“I don’t chase.”

“I’m broke.”

“I will text you later.”

“Sorry, I was busy.”

“I’m far from self absorbed.”

“I’m a little self absorbed.”

“A closed mouth doesn’t get fed.”

“I can’t help how you feel.”

I have always hated algebra, but not as much as I have always hated guys like you. Fuck off with your nonsense.


Breaking The Girl

I have a really bad habit of contradicting myself in regards to what I’m looking for in love. I’m one of those girls who wants to settle down with someone, but I am also the girl who creates impossible standards to settle down with. I get caught between hoping for the fairy tale and not believing in love at all. I’m not so much picky, as I am difficult. But at my age, mid to late thirties, there are only two types of men available. There are men who want to settle down and men who never will.

The men who want to settle down are usually the men who can’t stand on their own two feet. These are usually the men who want to meet up at your local Applebee’s for a half off appetizer and a couple of beers. You more than likely met him on a dating app and you only gave him a chance because he looked kind of hot, holding up a dead fish in one of his pictures. But now that you’ve met him, he knows nothing about fishing or anything to do with nature. His uncle caught that fish, and he took the opportunity to capture a shirtless photo, looking all manly and rugged. In reality, he is neither. He will talk about his crappy job, his crazy ex, and his undying devotion to the child he only sees every other weekend and occasionally on Wednesday nights. His mom still pays his phone bill, because he won’t talk to her unless she does. And she usually watches his child for him on the weekends because he’s still a child himself. These half-ass soccer dads are great if you’re looking for self degradation and chronic boredom. Or if you really want to raise another man and his child. I did the mini van gig for a while. I left that life behind for a reason. It was suffocating. The sex was lousy. He won’t make you cum. He will only make you fat. He is an overgrown man child. And I am already raising two kids by myself, thank you very much. Besides, I am not a typical PTA mom by any means.

The other guy you will find in my age bracket is the independent man whore. This guy will say all the right things, but pay close attention to his actions, as they will tell a much different story. This guy knows women, and if you’re a basic bitch, he will manipulate the fuck out of you. He just wants to fuck, in spite of what he’s told you. You probably met this one online too. He will put zero effort into anything besides getting into your pants. The sex will be good, but it will lack emotion. This guy is an alpha male, he is not capable of emotional pleasure. He won’t offer to buy you coffee, or drinks. A meal is out of the question. He dates a lot. He could never afford to spend money on every woman that he sees. He will make you feel special with his charm. But his actions will leave you feeling devalued. You will be a good time, a pretty new play thing. And just like the many girls before you, another one will catch his attention as soon as he is bored with you. These alpha males can lay some top shelf dick, but they have no stability to offer. So the dick is often temporary, and is always attached to a man without emotions. These guys have a constant rotation of pussy. One drops out, there are three more waiting, that he’s been bread- crumbing along. He knows exactly what to say and how to say it. Every word spoken with the intention of getting into your pants. And every other pair that comes across his path.

I can smell good sex from a mile away. There is something in the way a man will carry himself, a look in his eye. There’s something primal about this type of man that reels me in every time. I have a thing for alphas. But this type of man is good for two things only. Fucking your brains out, and scaring you back into the arms of a soccer dad with ugly shoes.

Is it possible to find a man who can offer stability and good sex? Perhaps my time would be better spent hunting down unicorns, because they are less rare than a sexy, independent man with stability.

I need to feel desired on a spiritual level. I need to have those butterflies right out of the gate, or they will never come. I need a man to interrupt my life, to penetrate my walls, to wake me up from this nightmare of Monster drinking idiots that keep parading through my bed. But the only men who I could ever really fall for are the men who know how to treat a woman. And the only men who know how to treat a woman are the men who treat a lot of women. And so you can see why I’m single.

This Tinder rampage is driving me insane, but like a wild mustang who submits to the saddle after running and kicking herself into exhaustion… I am hoping to tame myself through this experience of running wild. I want to want stability. I want to break myself into submission. I want to free myself from this rut of indecision. I didn’t want to choose, but I am learning now that choosing is the only way forward. And the only way to make the right choice is to break myself of making the wrong choices. So buckle up heart, it’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Writing Material

“What is normal to the spider is chaos to the fly.” ~Morticia Adams

I went to see that ambiguous man again last night. I had allowed him to read my last post, which was obviously about him. And then I was invited back to gather some more writing material. I was not disappointed.

It’s a little unnerving, how good the sex is, especially considering that he has Mars in Gemini. I’ve intentionally avoided this placement before. I’ve always advised women to avoid this placement of Mars.

What I’m learning now, is that Mars in Gemini is so much more than a need for detachment and variety. This energy is all about logistics. This guy knows how to fuck. He’s got it down to a science, making good use of angles and tension. He has mastered that delicate blend of dominance with respect. He is the only man that I’ve ever been with, who makes condom sex feel amazing. And because he’s careful, I really don’t care about his need for variety and detachment. My philosophy on life is to do what feels good. Right now, that’s him.

He has my mostly undivided attention. I have his slightly more divided attention. He called me today, seemingly concerned about this imbalance in our situation. He is not capable of monogamy, and he has hurt people because of that. There was a sense of fear in his voice, because he knows that he will eventually hurt me. I think he underestimates the level of armor that I have wrapped around my heart.

I don’t worry about the future or dwell in the past. All I know is that right now, his value as a person exceeds his value as a prospect. He does not waste my time. So far, he’s made very good use of it.

Last night, as I was leaving his apartment after an impromptu dick appointment, he pulled me against the wall by my hair. He leaned his naked body up against me, and kissed me like he was going off to war or some shit and my mind fell into a million tiny pieces. Every girl should be getting kissed like that. Knowing him, every girl probably is.

A Beautiful Mess

“What a beautiful mess you’ve made of things,” he said to me as I laid back to catch my breath. I’m not really sure if he was talking about the messed up sheets, or something more abstract, like his life. I didn’t respond. It didn’t matter to me. I just savored the moment of this man’s bewitching and poetic mind.

He is not an easy guy to figure out. His apartment had the essence of minimalism. A couch, a television, a bed. There were no pictures on the wall, no dining room table. Just stacks of books and the necessities. His very unique mind was the sexiest thing about him, though his body was divine perfection. He looked as if DaVinci himself had sculpted his torso. His smile was enchanting. I fell into a trance of intoxicating rhapsody, watching his dark skin all tangled up with mine. We were the same in many ways. We were also very different. To me, there is nothing more beautiful than contrast.

Just as the stars had suggested, he is a walking paradox of push and pull. My head rested on his chest, falling into a deep rest to the sound of his unattainable heartbeat. The rhythm of complexity, one of my favorite songs. I can’t help but to wonder if my own unattainable heart will ever let down her guard.

He was a beautiful mess long before I came along. He’ll stay a beautiful mess long after I am gone.

Juggling Gigolos

Uranus just moved into my eighth house. So the unexpected little surprises that were popping up in my relationship house before, are now popping up in my sex life. To take full advantage of the most electric planet moving into my house of intimacy, I decided to give online dating another go round.

Last night, I had crazy kinky phone sex with three different dudes at the same time. One guy has a foot fetish, so I had to include my feet in all of the pictures. I pulled a muscle from trying to balance the copy and paste feature of my iPhone in one hand while using my other hand to partake in all of the fun. On top of that, I was trying to get my feet in the same picture as my tits, all while staying mentally focused enough to send vague enough messages that applied to everyone. I guess you could say I was juggling gigolos. I may be a little hungover on cheap validation.

That being said, it was fun. I needed some fun in my life, so I created some. And it’s been a really cool experience to go back to the viscous hell of online dating with the impenetrable armor of my brand new perspective. It’s a brand new ballgame now that I’ve shaken that monkey of codependency off my back. The old me would pin up my very best pictures and then sit deep in my own anxiety when guys would reach out. I would spend hours, sometimes days, talking to & trying to impress douche bags while eagerly searching for any breadcrumb reason to love them.

That shit is all gone now. I don’t give a single tiny fuck about impressing anyone. This is me. Take or leave me… IF I approve of your ass. My standards are on point these days. Like me right now, they are very high. None of the phone sex guys made the cut… but I have a couple of guys on my line who did and I am very much looking forward to the adventures I’ve lined up for myself. I think seven years of Uranus in my eighth house sounds like a really good time. I’m just going to keep swiping right.


I love being a massage therapist. I love every fucking thing about it. I love chatting with my clients who like to chat. I love the peace and quiet with my clients who don’t like to chat. I love that I get to actively participate in the very best part of someone’s day.

I love to smoke a little bit of pot and then mix my routine with some chill music. I’m getting comfortable in my routine now, and my clientele is growing. I am very good at what I do. I know this, because my clients come back. And they bring friends. My clients drive from a forty mile radius to experience my massage. I love what I do, and that shows.

Last week, I had my first male client, that I was legitimately attracted to. I’ve massaged men that I’m not interested in before… But this is the first guy that I’ve massaged, who inspired some very unholy thoughts in my mind. I was both concerned that he might be a creep, and also ashamed that I was in fact the creepy one, as I wrapped my fingers around his giant, beautiful, sausage-shaped fingers… nonchalantly searching for a wedding band, which I did not find. I have no shame.

I don’t get a lot of male clients. The retreat center, where I work, is for females only, but we’re blessed with the use of massage rooms for our personal clientele. It’s a perfect set up and I am very thankful for it.

I consciously hold back on advertising, because I don’t want random, creepy guys trying to book massages with me. A chiropractor, where I interviewed a few months ago, had to install panic buttons in all of her massage rooms. I’ve had heavy breathing men call and ask what type of massages I give. In less than one day of launching my Facebook page for my massage business, I had a private message from a stranger, asking how much a happy ending would cost. As much as I despise this fact, massage therapy has been a scapegoat for prostitution, and that reputation has been difficult to discredit. So I am much more comfortable massaging female clients. But I’m not going to turn my back on $60/hour when a legitimate man books a legitimate massage.

Last week, a very legitimate, very tall, very handsome guy booked a massage with me. I noticed his eyes immediately, they were sapphire blue.

I had actually met this man before. He had some good friends in common with my ex boyfriend. I didn’t feel like talking about any of those people though, so I introduced myself and acted as if I had never met him before. I’m not sure if he recognized me or not. I will admit, I put some makeup on and straightened my hair in preparation for this appointment. I do believe he noticed.

The massage went really well, but I kept thinking about how attractive he was. I enjoyed every minute of adventuring around every landmark of his very nice body. He smelled good. He felt good. He looked good. I would never jeopardize my career, but I would be lying if I told you that it didn’t cross my mind.

When I rolled him over, face up, he tipped his head back to look at me while I worked on his shoulders from the top of the table. He didn’t say anything, didn’t smile. He just watched me as I massaged his head, arms, and hands. It was weird to be watched, that doesn’t normally happen. I giggled nervously, not knowing what to do, whenever my eyes would check in with his. I started to get nervous as I focused intently on my task at hand. I could feel his gaze on me, and I’m certain that had I made eye contact with him, he would have made a move. I’m certain that he was waiting for any inkling that I would allow it. I tried not to make eye contact with him. I did not want to be put in the position of having to defend my career, my dream. This job is very important to me. I would never risk losing everything that I have worked for. I would never act on that attraction. I would never throw my dream away, after all the years it took for me to find it. But I sure as hell wanted to lick that guys fingers, and that was very confusing for me. He was thankfully respectful, and I was relieved that I didn’t have to have that conversation with him.

When the session was over, he tipped me well and said that he would definitely be in touch. I am definitely looking forward to it.

Man Overboard!

I blocked a guy today. It wasn’t easy and I know it’s immature. In some ways it hurt, because I really liked this guy and still do. But in other ways, I think it was easier than trying to explain the 5,000 knots in my mind to someone who could never make sense of the mess. I took the cowardly road. I know for a fact that he would never have done that to me. But in my defense, he was the guy who made me feel like a Godess one day and invisible nothing the next. And that is the cruelest shit you can do to a person.

My heart is a ship sailing into oblivious adventure. This guy was playing twister, with limbs stretching out from the shore, but never really giving up the sand.  

That guy mistook my kindness for weakness.  

Fuck that guy.