The perfect lover

So true.

Dirty

I feel dirty.

The horror of what is done to me can hardly be expressed. Words might do if there were enough words in my - if I may say so, quite extensive- vocabulary. And I suppose you will all think I exagerate but it is no fun to be adressed by someone you hold in the lowest (or highest if that's worse) contempt with a term of endearment.

I do not wish to be called 'Morhanneke' , not by I man whose name I hope will be cursed, who may rot in hell for all I care and slow and whose painful demise cannot come too soon.

Can everyone lend me a bar of soap? I can't promise to give it back though I might need it in it's entirety.

Quote # 32?

Safe castration, there is nothing worse for the heterosexual male than to be
held in contempt by the woman he loves.

I would like to sign this a name, but I can't remember whom it is by. It is worthy of Doroty Parker, it may just as well be a sentence that sneaked into my memory through my (day)dreams.

Rant VI

I don't like compliments, mostly because I refuse to believe they're sincere.

Dont tell me I look good, I'll never be drunk enough to believe it. Don't tell me you think I'm cool or nice or sweet, I may or may not secretly like it but I'll hate* you for it.

So thoughtfull of you to think a compliment will cheer me, but it won't. And goddamn your expectations it's my bloody right to be grumpy about it.

One final note: don't ask me whether I lost weight. 'The prize' for whoever asks me as the 100th person will not be nice.

*'resent' at the very least

Good Intentions

No more emotional melancholic mystery!

Or at least thats what I 'll try.

Last night I heard once too many that it is maybe not such a good idea to publish prety much every detail of my struggles in search for love, comfort and happiness. I may have to resort to witty remarks on world events, private affairs and utterly unimportant remarks about my day at work. For the few, I think those very few who should miss my endless wailing, they can always invite me for a drink and then some more drinks.

Going with the flow...

Not a day goes by that I don't ask other people or at the very least wonder about how to handle my curent situation. Often the current situation needs only some advice on what to wear or what to cook, now something more serious has come up and it is not at all clear to me what the obvious bad choice is between:

a) Go with the flow, just let it all happen and see where I end, realising that there's an 85% chance if will be a short happy period of bliss followed by a possibly long period of misery and heartbreak.

b) Fight for the one I am now certain that I like/love, realising there's an 85% chance of it ending in misery and heartbreak with no period of bliss whatsoever?

You tell me I guess. 

Quote #31

Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.

John Lennon

And it has proven quite true today.

[insert apropriate curse]

Empathy

By no means I wish to seem ungrateful. You are all my friends and it is the privilege of friends to say what you mean even if it is not what I want to hear.

By doing what you are doing I sincerely believe you give me the advice that you think I need. And if it takes YOU to push me over the edge, to act against myself, my charachter and my instinct so that I may be happy, or at the very least happier, I'm glad you are doing it.

But in this entire vague exposition there is one further remark I wany to make; the one person seeing this -as I believe- from my perspective and advising me as I would myself, is the one person you all deny knowledge of even the notion 'empathy'. Of the latter these I am no longer convinced.

Steak, Guinness and Well-meant Advice

As often, yet not too often happens, I found myself in an Irish pub off late, in the company of two dear friends. Two tattooed dear friends I may say. A long long long bond (that of profound afficionado's of red and other meats) brought us together for the consumption of Guinness and Steak- and later also hot molten chocolate cake with whipped cream, but this is not the point.

Our main and pretty much only subject for the evening was sex. And whether or not I am in need of any. None in the company present could and hence dared deny it, however I have one objection as to what the focus of their these is. 

I have never ever wanted intercourse (is there any less appropriate term for what can and should be beautiful and passionate) with someone I didn't loved from the depths of my heart and the bottom of my soul. Having for once in eight years the opportunity to sleep with someone doesn't in my not so humble opinion, mean that I MUST sleep with the person* concerned.

Therefore I shall presume my bussiness with aforementioned human being as I always have, and between us there shall be no more talk of sex, casual or otherwise.

*Purposely vague

The Friend Zone

Should I be wont to believe everything people try to convince me off, I'd have a very very confused world image. Thus my scepsis at the concept of the much dreaded Friend Zone should not surprise any of you.

Apparently 'the Friend Zone' is the one place you don't want to be in. I do not concurr. Never in my vast and seemingly endless career of cultivated heartbreak-induced Weltschmerzen have I ever got stuck in the Friend Zone- untill now that is. In two rare cases the man I love(d) has become a friend of some sort once I got past months and months of agony but being 'just a friend' to the one I secretly and not so secretly desire is new.

Very new. And I really don't see what is so bad about it. I quite like it here. There isn't a lot of steamy hot sex around but then again, being a miserable, complaining, selfpitying wretch doesn't get you any either ;-).

Unhospitable

The sole reason for my sadness in the previous post, came to a temporarily end last night. But does the brief brief brief moment of physical enjoyment* warrant the negligence of one that I considered a guest?


I am not sorry for having been invited, and he whom I considered a guest was left in the pleasant company of several housemates and their respective other halfs but still... my timing could have been better.

*You know me well enough by now, not to misunderstand; it was physical AND enjoyable but it was no Kama Sutra re-enactment.

No effect

You may or may not have read a post below, explaining what to do when I feel miserable and you are in no mood to listen to my endless wailing of what a bad state I'm in. I know how baking makes me feel and nowadays I anticipate the wailing by asking people to tell me to bake.

So I did. And I still feel sad.*

So what am I going to do now?

* Even though everyone that had a taste seemed to like it.

One question

I know barely were to start writing. And I fear or rather I am certain that for the bulk of my readers it will be utterly incomprehensible.

I feel very very well right now. But at the same time I feel sad. I'm in love. And still I'm not heartbroken to learn he doesn't love me back. I feel like crying but I can't help, really can't help smiling. I slept little, ate nothing, had one cup of tea since yesterday evening but I'm so full of energy I feel like terribly long walks and shouting out loud and taking a shower just to be able to sing.

Could it be that in spite of an unhappy discovery I'm secretly happy?


I wouldn't know, I'm too confused.

Cardboard Love

It does not occur so very very often, so when it does, I like to blog about it. While waiting for another to pass before I need to get my train I came accross this site (click).

It's rather mushy but for now, I'm too happy to be bothered by it

May 1

A little late but well meant nonetheless.