(naked night on the beach, star gazing… and other dirty things done in nature)

It feels like a lot has happened emotionally for me in the last two weeks. And I have come to the conclusion that I have some serious ISSUES. All caps, because these mother fuckers will cut you. 

We all have our struggles, we all have our burdens to bear, and I was thinking that mine were pretty much (aside from our monthly wrestling match) under control. I am happy. I am grateful.  I feel loved (even if s/he can’t say it) and with the exception of wanting more time with her/him I am a happy girl in my non-traditional, sexy life. 

My Dad had been after me to watch this movie for *months* ( I am not joking, every god damned call “Have you watched it yet?! You’re going to laugh your shit box off!”), called “My Awkward Sexual Adventure”. I finally sat down to watch it, and instead of laughing, I found myself deeply saddened. The hero of the story was in love with a woman who didn’t love him back. As the story progresses you can see how she used him as an emotional crutch, but she didn’t want to let him go because he fed her (giant, mother-fucking) ego, even though she wasn’t all that into him. I felt for him, pouring his love out only to be kind of accepted. And not to harp on my Darth baggage – but sweet baby jesus, I thought I left this in New York somewhere? I should have ripped off the luggage tags. Like poison these thoughts have seeped into my mind and heart – you are not loveable.

You know what I do not want to do anymore? Hurt. I want to be loved. OPENLY. Misty has ISSUES of her own. Love issues. And knowing about her lovers and wife I do not find this surprising in the least. S/he is glacier slow to feeling comfortable in the LOVE word and space. Which I also find interesting since for the first time with a lover/partner I feel 100% accepted as myself. No games. No half truths. No hiding the unseemly, weird parts. I feel like we have an amazing connection, like minded and enjoying each other in whatever situation we find ourselves in. Whether that is working together on his work projects or quietly talking at night, texting during the day or adventurous dirty sex. We do not have one flavour.  

Contrary to how this may read above, when I love someone, I really don’t expect them to love me back. I do it because I feel it. I just love them. That said, I do want to be loved. I want to be chosen by the person that my heart has chosen too (read Misty). That is not expecting love, that is hoping and wanting it. 

Misty and I had a hiccup the other night, where I was ready to scorch and salt the earth… so hiccup sounds a bit understated. It was all these feelings of “No one is going to make me go down the Darth path of heart ache again! I can’t go through not getting picked AGAIN!!! I hate being the consolation prize!! I’m not going to be!” and that caused me to hit the curb of rational thought and want to Thelma and Louise right off that fucker. I jumped to conclusions, I was paraniod, I felt like the biggest joke on the planet, “Boy, that Becca sure is a chump!”, I figured that was that, we were done. Then we talked and I just felt stupid. And hysterical. A hysterically stupid girl who goes to DefCon 1, with worst case scenario imagined.

But mostly just really fucking stupid. 

I hope my crazy hasn’t fucked things up between us… the exact fall out has yet to be determined. But it has made me look harder at what I want, and how I am unsure about whether or not it will be able to happen. Which makes me sad, people. I’m a dream big girl! I believe in the unexpected and wondrous twists life can take! I go after what I want with a single minded determinedness that surprises even me sometimes.

And even though I cried to my Dad about the bad girls never getting the guy, like in the movies (he felt terrible that the romantic, pervy comedy made me cry), I still keep hoping for a happy ending. Because you know what you get if you don’t even try? Jack shit.