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.

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Validation

Validation is a powerful drug. I used to feed on the positive impressions of others, consistently craving more praise. I was an approval junkie. Like a hungry goat at a petting zoo, I would climb the fence for a handful of shitty pellets. I am proud to say that I no longer depend on validation, as most people do. Although it certainly is nice to indulge from time to time.

It’s strange how the ego responds to a compliment. Powerful feelings can emerge when someone makes you feel like you matter, even if you don’t believe them. Like feeding a caged beast, the ego grows hungry for more. Starved for attention, he will eventually bite the hand that once fed him. I am very blessed, as my beast had been starved for so long that he shriveled up and died. Now I have no beasts to answer to, just an empty cage and the bones of the neglect that made me who I am. My ego has freed herself from the shackles of validation. This has been my reward for ascension in self love.

And that’s what I think he liked about me. The other girls will come back with hands out, begging. I came back with my hands full, giving. And I hope I showed him something new. But like a flower, wilted over from too much water, imbalance can lead to detriment. It was the contrast that pulled me in, but the contradiction that pushed me away. I’m grateful as I’m always starving for intensity and he did make that happen. But that indifference was a bitter follow through. I’m not built for shallow water. He is incapable of submitting to depth.

It can be agonizing to deal with a hungry ego when my perspective is through the eyes of my soul. And I wonder if love is nothing more than the act of feeding each other’s monsters. And if I have no monster, surely I could never understand love. And I never know what the hell to do with all this freedom. And I can’t help but to wonder if I am the only one here.

Quicksand

I had written a previous post , a while ago, about a fling that I shared with a very cute drug dealer. It didn’t bother me so much that he sold cocaine, as much as it bothered me that he did cocaine, and my attraction to him felt a lot like an addiction.

That being said, I adored him. He was a lot of fun to be around. He was sweet and caring. He charmed me, simply by being himself. Most importantly, he still holds the title of the very best dick I’ve ever had. His mars is exactly conjunct my South Node. What that means is that our sex life transcended time and space. Many astrologers would argue that he and I had been lovers in a past life. It’s one of the most powerful karmic ties in astrology. We also shared opposite nodes and a Moon/Pluto conjunction. This kind of synastry doesn’t happen very often. Walking away from that man was not easy. I was proud of myself for doing it, but it hurt just the same.

I have a routine for every guy that I date. I take them to my favorite place in the world. It’s a wildlife refuge that looks like a scene from National Geographic. And I watch these men’s faces as we explore the wilderness. Some guys will talk nonstop through the entire tour, and those guys never get invited back. Some guys just rush through it, and they don’t get invited back either. When I took the drug dealer through my refuge, he looked like a kid in a candy shop. He took pictures. He watched quietly for birds and deer. His eyes weren’t fixed on me, they were fixed on what I loved because he loved the same things. I could feel that he felt the same respect for nature that I have. He mentioned that trip to the refuge every single time I talked to him.

I liked every thing about this guy, except his addiction. And his height. He was a lot shorter than me, which was a deal breaker for every man I’ve ever met, except him. His personality made up for his height, and he was fucking adorable. He showed me new music, and it was really good stuff! It always seemed to thunder every time we were together. One time we were intimate while a tornado ripped through the neighborhood, and neither of us noticed because we were too enthralled in each other. We were good together. He always said sweet things to me, and it always felt genuine. He would make a point to call me and say he just wanted to listen to my voice. But I could always feel him being pulled into his social life, just as strongly as I was being pulled into him.

I ghosted on this drug dealer last August, just five months after our romance had begun. I have not seen or spoken to him since. As much as I liked him, and as heavy as the pull towards him felt, I knew that I had to walk away. It was the first time that I had ever walked away after my heart had been opened, but before my heart was ready to leave. My heart recognized something familiar and sacred in him, but my brain knew that I could never fix that man. I had to let him fix himself.

He reached out to me last week. It’s been nine months. He said he had a dream about us together at the refuge, and just had to try and talk to me. It’s so funny, because just a few days before, I had dreamt about another guy from my past and reached out to him. And I remember thinking that it felt really good to forget about that drug dealer and start to finally consider someone new.

It’s like the sandman and Cupid are in cahoots and fucking with me. The other guy is sweet, but his life seems to be falling apart at the moment. I’d love to help him, but I promised myself that I wouldn’t fix people anymore. The drug dealer seems to be getting his shit together, or at least trying to. But he also feels like quicksand to me. I got out once. I’m not so sure I could handle that again.

Lessons from 2017

1. I make a terrible whore. When 2017 came rolling in, I had planned on being single for the rest of my life. I have a promiscuous past, and I thought maybe I could get back to that way of living. I had it all figured out too. I would only sleep with the worst dudes, who could never capture my heart. Turns out, I can fall in love with fucking anyone. I will literally plan a future with the flea-ridden stray that humps my leg on a park bench. I’ve moved on to plan B. I sleep with a guy three times and then I bolt.

2. Childhood trauma can’t be cured with wine or therapy. But it can be cured with weed and energy work. My friend and I have spent the past year, pulling invisible thorns out of each other’s backs. It has been the closest thing to a miracle that I have ever experienced.

3. I’m a lot more powerful than I ever thought I would be. This realization has helped to chip away at the concrete wall of anxiety that I have boxed myself in with. It has also allowed me to create my life rather than be a victim of it. I wrestled vulnerability to the ground and put that bitch in a choke hold. I could fucking fly right now. I’ve always been terrified of flying. I could fall in love right now. I have always been terrified of loving.

4. Love and time have nothing to do with each other. I felt more love with my summer fling than I did with my last serious relationship. It only takes a moment to find love again. In fact, love is never lost. We just choose not to see it sometimes. It’s been there all along.

5. Ambiguity is the secret to my sanity. I’ve always tried to be one thing or another. Now I am both. I am whoever and whatever I say that I am, because the only thing that matters in this life is my perception of it. The right to define myself lies only in my hands.

6. I get lost in darkness sometimes. But even on my darkest night, billions of distant suns still shine upon me and the moon is a promise that tomorrow will come around again. The sky has consistently shown me the direction in which to move. 2018 is the year that I will stop swimming against her current.

Trailways and Tears


You have to cry it out.  You have to go through the phase of aching, of grief, of guilt and depression and despair. This is the shedding of your own sweet heartache, like leaves in the cool October air.   You have to let it go. But you can’t release that which you do not see as real.  You need those salty, tangible tears to validate the pain, to solidify your worst emotion.

So cry. Write. Scream. Run.  Do whatever it takes to physically manifest your broken heart. Let your nerves suffer the cruel pain of injustice and longing. Hold your head under the shadows as long as you can bare.  Let your breath crumble to the soft whisper of promises that were never kept. Let your eyes fall to the floor in shame of feeling so small, so inadequate, in this big haunted world full of violent expectations, disapproval, and shame. Let your chest sink in agony from the guilt of holding on a little too tightly, to your own expectations.

And when you’re ready, you will know. Take your time and understand that all of it was real. And be gracious that it happened.  Take a big, deep breath and stand tall on the souls of your feet.  Know that you have the power to walk away and let it go. You have a voice to speak your truth as loudly as you can. You have eyes to see the light.  But you also have to see the darkness, and mine it’s lessons, like diamonds buried inside of the caves of your heart.  Be sweet to your old bones, for they are going to carry you far.

And when you get to where you are going, remember the roads that carried you there.  Drop to your knees in respect and awe of your own journey.   And smile, knowing that no one else has ever traveled the same roads as you, and yet…at the same time, everyone  has.  And now you know empathy, the fertilizer of love.  And love is the currency of your soul.

Empath Love 


In my experience, people in general can be selfish and shitty, even if they do smell like roses. If you ever happen to catch my attention, you should know that I will hold on fiercely to every wicked thing about you. I will polish your dark side like fucking diamonds. I will rearrange the aesthetics of your very essence, pushing back your demons and pulling forward the pillars of light around your soul.  

And you will see yourself through my eyes, and for the first time, you will fall in love with the scenery of your own shadow.  But sadly, you will assume that my perception of you is only the result of my own ignorance, because deep down you believe that you are nothing more than shit. And even though I can only smell the sweet fragrance of roses inside of you, your focus will remain on the stench of everything you think you are hiding from me.  

And you should know that you can’t hide those hideous treasures from me. I have deep caves inside of myself that are darker than anything you could ever imagine. And that gives me the power now, doesn’t it? You will mistake my kindness for weakness. You will feel my graciousness and then believe that you are somehow entitled to it. You will think you have me on lockdown.  You will assume that I must be under your control because all you can feel is the warm light that I have painted you in.

But you can’t win a game that you aren’t familiar with. My eyes, and the way that they see you, are my own. You don’t own my focus, or my power. And as soon as you start to believe that you do, I will set a fire to the garden of roses that I had so graciously planted in your piles of manure. And I will walk away with one last picture of you, seeing you as nothing more than a pile of shit. Your delusion will become mine. And my delusion will fall into your precious little box of big regrets.  

If you ever learn to plant your own damn roses, I would love to stop by and smell them. 

Fate Is What You Create


I read some old Chinese folk lore the other day, about an imaginary red string that is tied around the ankles of a soul mate couple.  No matter where you are at in life, that red string still connects you to the person you were born to experience life with. 

 I find the idea of soul mates to be completely ridiculous. I actually feel sorry for the handful of women that I know who have only ever been with one or two people. I have a married friend who lost her virginity to her husband. She is in her fifties and has only ever had one lover. What if he’s horrible in bed? How would she know? It seems very tragic to me. I suppose the two of them share so much intimacy, that their connection overrides the monotony.  It’s not my place to judge.  

I do understand the sexual value of an intimate connection. My ex husband was the first person I had ever felt that with. We had ten years together and he still remains the only man I have ever experienced real, raw intimacy with.   He and I didn’t have much in the way of companionship, but we had a very fulfilling sex life. Even after we separated and I moved out, we had amazing sex. We kind of had to ween ourselves away from each other in that way.  Ironically enough, we have a very stable companionship now, founded in coparenting and a mutual respect for each other’s journey.  But we were never soul mates.  

I think I am the only astrologer in the world who doesn’t believe in soul mates.  I mean, there are aspects in compatibility astrology that can signify an intense connection.  There are aspects that point to attraction, love, and relationships.  I can accurately predict if a couple will share a child.  But I don’t see it as two people who are destined to come together and share those aspects.  I see it as a choice that two people have made, and their energy is compatible or not.  But it has nothing to do with destiny.  We all share these aspects with many people.  By that logic, I have thousands of soulmates in this world.  

The belief in soulmates automatically smothers out the idealism of choice.  Life without choice would be nothing more than acting.  The theater is entertaining, but you don’t gain any value from speaking someone else’s words or moving through someone else’s motions.  Free will is a non negotiable in my beliefs.  And that means that in any given moment, we have the ability to choose our own life.  We have the logic to understand that the head and the heart are separate for a reason.  We can feel a pull towards or away from another person.  But we are gifted with the ability to choose.  Love is a choice that you make and not some fated birthright.  

I don’t have some imaginary red string tied to some elusive man who was born to be my lover. I have a heart that has loved many.  And I have a brain that has always known (although sometimes a little too late) when to walk away.  Choosing to love someone is much more romantic than enslaving yourself to fate.  

I see life in much the same way.  Life is nothing more than a series of decisions.  Astrology is a compass, not a destination.