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.


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.

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 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.