How I took a break and became a different person...

It's been about four months since my last post, and a lot has definitely happened.

It was May when I last posted and I was looking forward to Summer '16 in Puerto Rico.  I wanted to see my family, see my friends, and hook up with Rican guys.  I was hoping this time would be different.  Truth is, it's the same shit just a different locations.  I ended up hooking up with two guys and experienced a failed attempt with a third.  I don't think I want to go into details with those right now, but it'll come.

Four months.  Four months, casual hook ups, failed attempts at dating, threesome proposals, a swinger party, and a couple of beers later, and I'm kinda burned out.  I was going for the casual hook ups because I believed it's what was best for me.  I thought it was best because the casual meant that I wasn't going to have to deal with the drama... I wasn't going to have to deal with the possibility of a heart break or the complications that relationships bring into your life.  I soon realized that I was dealing with the exact same shit.  And yeah, I'm doing great by myself, but I'm a sexual being so I like the male companionship in my life.  Don't get me wrong, it's not a priority, but more of a cheat meal on the weekends... yummy banana splits!

So it's September and I'm dating.  I haven't had sex in more than a month, and I've survived.  I've been upfront with the guys that I'm seeing and I've told them that even though I don't want to jump into a relationship, I do want to give myself the opportunity of getting to know people.  I do want to date.  I do want to feel wanted.  I'm just done with the non essential, unfulfilling, casual hook ups.

And so I'm a different person, but I don't know how long it'll last.  And I'm okay with that, because that's just human nature.

Stay tuned for the "Things that I learned in Puerto Rico" post.  Pre-game is a thing.

-Angie

Should I give up, or should I just keep chasing penis?

Yes, sometimes the way to the penis is long and hazardous.  And you find yourself questioning, does it lead anywhere?  Hopefully, it does...  Pleasure, Satisfaction, Orgasms, Self-Fulfillment, and all that other shit that takes into account your well-being before that of others.  Because let’s face it, in many cases, especially those of women, we put everyone and everything before us; that includes, his penis, his orgasms, his satisfaction, his well-being, and all that other shit that does not take your needs into account.  And so let’s be honest: I had sex.  And I feel my life slowly but surely turning into a "Sex and the City-esque" kinda life... with lots of the sex components and none of the rest.  There are no fancy shoes, fancy clothes, awesome apartments in NYC, famous celebrities, failed marriages, etc.  It's just me, the guys, and the "romanticizing" of sex.

I've purposely placed "romanticizing" in quotation marks because I am not really romanticizing it.  I'll give you a hard and cold account of the events that led me to writing my post, with some exceptions, because that's what writers do.  And so I begin by confessing that I lied in my previous post.  I actually did have sex with the theater geek.  I also had sex with the caveman, but that was after I published it.  

Theater Geek:  He came over.  We had beers and wine.  We watched Netflix... and then we chilled.  And yeah, I mean the other "perverted" context of chilled.  He talked a lot about his life which seemed interesting.  He also talked a lot to the point where I couldn't get a word in.  After a couple of glasses of wine, I put my leg on his... He started rubbing my thighs, and I literally can't remember how one thing led to another, but he kissed me.  After making out for what seemed to be a solid minute, we fucked.  Unfortunately the details are a bit hazy since I was drunk on wine.

I know he fucked me on my couch.  I know he fucked me from behind.  I know he was on top of me at a certain point.  I know he used and abused my tender breasts... One week later I still have battle scars (bruises).  I also know he had a statuesque naked body which he pranced around like he had no care in the world.  I also--UNFORTUNATELY--noticed that he had ugly feet.  I'm petty for that... I KNOW.  It's been about two weeks and the communication between each other is at sending and receiving naked pictures on snapchat... It's mostly me on the receiving end.  The verdict:  it was good at its best and okay at its worst.  I've definitely have had worse.  Would I fuck him again?  Maybe.  

So, should I give up?  Or, Should I keep chasing penis?  Well, I fucked the caveman about 4 days after this one.  I guess I'm still chasing penis.  And that, my faithful readers, will be another post.  

-Angie

It's been a while...

I decided to post the mess that is my previous post, because I want to stay as honest as possible.  I've started going to therapy for anxiety and depression, and I've been told that I'm doing a lot of suppression.  They suggested keeping a journal, and this is it for me.  The thing is, I stopped.

At the beginning of my break up with Mark, I felt overwhelmed by emotions.  I cried, and cried, and constantly felt like I had so much in me, that I decided to start writing as a method of getting a bit of that weight out of my heart.  It helped.  After every post I felt my heart getting lighter and lighter.  I was able to smile and genuinely laugh out loud.  I thought to myself that years from now, it would be interesting to come back to my feelings but definitely not now.

Coming back to my feelings/blog meant that I would have to face my emotions.  It meant that I would probably cry again.  It meant that I would no longer ignore what's been weighing heavily on me.  But I'm not so sure about that anymore.

Way back, about two weeks into the break up, I thought it would be a good idea to start seeing other people... Not for anything serious, but for fun and to keep me busy.  Turns out I couldn't hold down a conversation without crying and feeling extremely guilty.  Every date I went on just reassured me of my feelings for Mark, and of how much I missed him and wanted him back.  This week has been the exception.

I was debating whether I should get back at dating because I thought that dating meant I was back to meaningless, casual, and boring sex.  Lets face it, I put myself in that situation.  I let it get to the point where it didn't matter.  But dating isn't necessarily about that.

Sex shouldn't be something you're ashamed about.  Sex is about personal pleasure, satisfaction, and making connections.  It's OK to have sex... as long as you're enjoying it.  My point is, my fear of whether sex is morally wrong or not is not going to stop me from going on dates anymore.  And so I went on two different dates this week...

The Dates

First date: Single, White, Theater Geek.  We talked (he did most of it).  It was alright.  Not great, but it was decent.

Second date: Single, Mexican, Caveman/Hipster/Jesus.  Woah.  As far as dates go, it was good.  Unfortunately most of the time my mind was just going: HUBBA HUBBA.  I struggled focusing on the conversation (which was actually good) because his hair and eyes were so pretty.  You ever seen a luscious mane that you just wanna run your fingers through?  That was me.  Yup, I had a serious case of "googly eyes," but overall I think I behaved and managed to enjoy myself.  He's extremely honest which I also found extremely attractive.

The Verdict

I DIDN'T HAVE SEX! But I still managed to enjoy myself.  It's not about me dating and finding my worth in others, but me dating and enjoying myself.  I'm honestly in no place to start considering serious dating.  I don't want that.  I want to enjoy being by myself.  I want to do MORE but by myself.  And so here's to more tinder, okc, and pof dates... Hell, maybe I'll even go on a date with someone I meet face to face instead of online.  YOLO, right?

-Angie

HAPPY CINCO DE MAYO!

Today, I'm ok...

and every day it gets easier.

It's been hard to write these past weeks.  I've had tough days.  I think I kept dragging my emotions because I felt guilty.  I kept asking the what if?  ...trying to find a solution and trying to justify everything that had happened.  I've finally accepted that I didn't lose my boyfriend:  HE LOST ME.  I've been feeling like shit without even realizing that when a person is so willing to let go of you it's because there is no love left, and that's okay.  Actually, it's not okay, but there's really nothing I can do.  How do I feel now?  I don't want to waste my time investing all of myself into a relationship.  Yes, I know not all men are the same, but I'm tired, and I need time to myself.  

I've noticed that since my break up, I've connected with old friends, I've gotten closer to my current friends, and most importantly, I've become a better mom.  A good friend told me: "Just go all out being you."  And that's exactly what I plan on doing.  

So, what are my plans?  I'm cleaning more, reading more, enjoying music more, talking to friends more, exercising more, cuddling with my daughter more, eating healthy food more, doing my make up more... I'm just doing more of everything because I deserve to enjoy my life MORE.

Not that I wasn't enjoying life while in my relationship, but the thing about not properly healing after a break up and getting into a new relationship is that you 

Which phase are you in when you feel numb?  What is happening when you get fixes from casual relationships and acquaintances?  What is happening when you're supposed to be crushed but you just don't care anymore?  Am I done?  Is this what it feels like when pain has overflown and everything has been spilled?

Today, April 27, 2016.

This has been part of my thought process for the past month.  I thought about discarding it, but it's my heart, and it deserves to be heard.  Since then, I've been making some changes and improvements in my life, but I'll keep the details for another post.

-Angie

How to succeed in heartbreak without really trying...

"How to succeed in heartbreak without really trying.
First, do nothing.
Become one with your couch eating whole stacks of Oreos like leaning towers of feelings.
Watch Jane Austen’s adaptations until your eyes become raisins.
Relish in Colin Firth emerging from the lake in a white shirt.
If you must do something, drink, but keep it classy.
Put your cheap wine in a glass, you aren’t a pirate.
Talk to yourself.
Talk to yourself in the mirror, on public transportation, in the middle of the fountain at the mall.
Because there are things you never got to say and you don’t have to swallow them.
Join Tinder, make your profile picture a model and talk to no one.
Just keep swiping until you got carpal tunnel, that way you can reject 50 people a minute and it feels like killing ants with abs.
Kiss as many people as you need to get the stamp of his lips off of your brain.
Go to museums, realize other things have history too.
Play hide and go seek with your REM cycle.
We’re are not sure which worse to wake up from: the nightmares about your sides are splitting open
or the dreams about him holding your jaw like it meant something to him.
You might as well tape your eyelids to your forehead because at least you could lie to yourself while you’re awake.
Stay up until 3, 3:30, 4. Brew tea with the bags under your eyes.
Write. Write until you lose every metaphor in your library you start using the same one over and over, because there’s only so many ways to describe being destroyed.
But once you get there, that’s just the foundation.
Next, gather up all of the chinks in your chain, fasten them together.
Make chainmail and write that bitch into battle.
Take his name, the one that’s still hurts to say and use it as a war cry. Then actually cry, because there is nothing shameful about clearing your eyes.
Do not pick yourself up.
Do not be okay, because heartbreak is not being okay, it’s about remembering you were okay before.
It’s about saying “Fuck okay!”.
It’s about taking all of your broken pieces and building yourself a castle, because I don’t care who you are.
You’re a goddamn queen.
It’s about saying “Fuck this poem!”.
No one succeeds at heartbreak.
I built myself a throne room out of pizza boxes and empty lunch bowls.
And I can’t stop crying into my Campbell’s chicken noodle soup.
But one day I cry myself a fountain of youth.
Let’s go back to beginning.
I’m tired of self-help tips and friendly pick me ups.
I drink a bottles, bottles and bottles, pretending their mouths belong to someone else.
But I’m done feeling sorry for myself, because why apologize for loving until you burst?
My capacity to feel needs no pardon.
My heart needs no mending.
I am not broken.
I’m just a little more…explosive!"

-Victoria Morgan

Anger makes it easy to move on...

I guess I'm back at anger... Not because you broke up with me, but because of how you're handling things.  Because of how willingly you have let go of everything that we stood for.  And I've waited an entire week to start writing, because it was pretty bad.  Should I hold back for you?  No.  But I'm trying to grow, and part of the growing means that I take time to digest my feelings, and deal with them on my own without exploding.  So in reality, I'm holding back for myself.  I'm holding back because dragging an unsolvable situation will do nothing.  I'm holding back because anger doesn't harm you, but it does harm me.

And so I've decided to make this path a tad more private.  Unfortunately I'm at the point where I'm starting to be less public about my feelings because it doesn't hurt as much so I'm thinking logically.

(The above passage took me about a week to write.)

And so I thought long and hard until today... I questioned whether to post this or not... whether to scratch it or not... whether to give up or not.  But after today it's clearer.  Thank you, Mark, for breaking my heart.  Thank you, Mark, for being everything you said you weren't.. THANK YOU, MARK, because after today, I am positive that you are no longer my person, and that you never really were.  After today, I move on...

I'm done.

-Angie

Saying goodbye still fucking sucks...

I guess it’s because most of my goodbyes are really “See you later!”  I don’t know…  Yesterday I did some thinking.  I figured I needed to get into what I normally do… date.  Date because rebounds are what get me through heart break, or so I thought.  But this time it’s different.  The fact of the matter is that I can’t even think about being with anyone who isn’t him.  It makes me sick.  I know he said not to wait for him, but I’m not waiting on him, I’m waiting on my heart to heal.  If anything I need dates with my best friends… those are the ones that really dig deep and are willing to lay you on an operating table and work with, and on you, little by little, putting the pieces back together.  They understand that it’s difficult to do it on your own, so they’re willing to help with their expertise.  Because they’ve been where I’ve been.  Because they know me better than my ex.  Because they love me more than he did.  It’s ok to let them in.  It’s ok not to be ok.  Even in the distance, they got you.  I wish you knew how many people reached out to me, and told me… I’ve been there:  I know what you’re feeling:  It’ll get better.  Friends who have sent me messages, videos, suggestions of books to read… friends who have read me and have felt the pain that I feel.  And I'm so grateful... so ridiculously grateful for the angels I know God has sent me, but I'm still saying goodbye, so it still hurts.  

-Angie