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 I met tinder...

     Despite currently being heart-broken, sobbing, in my period, and just plain and simple miserable, I will attempt to entertain the shit out of you.

     I made the mistake of asking my former boyfriend for his opinion on what I had so far in this post.  Because of this I find myself second guessing my choice of words for this second entry.  It's also a mistake because I'm just at a point where I'm desperate for any kind of attention I can get from him.  Bear with me people: I am now in the middle of my anger stage...  Me asking him for his opinion and trying to be his friend was part of the denial.  Lets get back to this post:  5, 4, 3, 2, 1, all eyes on me!  I'm still trying to figure out what kind of blog I want to have.

     Do I want it to be kind of a novel?  Nah!  Too much pressure.  I actually just want to begin the healing process. and be as honest as possible while at it.  So I've decided to just go with it.  I think my heart will take me wherever it is meant to go with this.  And right now children, let me tell you the story about how I met tinder.

     I was born in Philadelphia, moved to Puerto Rico when I was 8, and lived there until the tender age of 25?  I can't really count anymore.  Blame the anger stage! Two years after graduating from the wonderful University of Puerto Rico at Humacao, I realized that I was stuck:  I was a single mother still living with my mom and depending heavily on her support.  I was desperate to grow up and find my path.  I needed to move.  Dallas ISD was recruiting and you know how the rest of the story goes.

     Not only was I running from the island, but I was running from an abusive relationship (that, I'll leave for another entry), and a very conservative household.  When you look up the definition of overprotective it says: "refer to Jacqueline Marin."  So when I moved to Dallas with my best friend from college, believe me, it was a fucking free for all.  My daughter was back in PR while I figured out my next move.  I was FREE for the first time in my life.  CUE MOTHERFUCKING TINDER!

     When it comes to online dating I had done it all... I think it all began when I got my first computer at the age of 13 and began exploring the world of ICQ.  Hear that?  It's the sound of younglings asking themselves, what the hell is ICQ?  Millenials, ICQ was a brilliant instant messaging service where I met the guy who I technically count as my first.  No, I didn't lose my virginity when I was 13, but I did meet him when I was 13.  Anyways, that's another post as well.  Long story short, I was an ugly duckling in real life, but that wasn't the case on the Internet.

     Back to Dallas:  Class, Class, Class! (Did I tell you guys I'm a teacher?)  Summer of 2014.  In past years I had played with Plenty of Fish and Ok Cupid to no avail.  Well, actually, I did get to hook up with a ginger once when I went to Maryland, but that was pretty much it.  Even though it was amazing to explore the possibilities, it wasn't a realistic scenario in Puerto Rico because that's just not how you meet people there.  So yeah, I opened them, but I also downloaded this new app called tinder.  In reality it wasn't new, but it was new to me.  How does this thing work? Oh, you just swipe right if you like them, and swipe left if you don't.  What's the purpose?  To fucking hook up.  I promise you, it's just a hook up app.

     What happened next was a series of unfortunate dates (the humper, the golf player, the old man, the Mexican, the French, etc.) that eventually lead me to the love of my life and the man I thought I would marry next year (the ex boyfriend).

     I know you're here for the juicy stuff, but patience my child, this is a process.  I think for now I'm pretty much done with the moping and the unnecessary and uninteresting background story.  Tune in next week for the story of "the humper" and the bargaining, depression or acceptance stage.  It'll be worth your time!

-Angie