Trigger warning: aggressive sexual behavior
It’s supposedly good fortune to have a bird shit on you, but I don’t think anyone feels lucky when they get smattered with poop while everyone else around them is unsoiled.
Last weekend, however, this notion I had was challenged when a bird pooped on me while I was enjoying the chilly, albeit sunny, day at the beach. It was unfortunate that the bird shat while flying right over me, but fortunately, the poop had landed entirely on the beach towel I had wrapped around my shoulders in an attempt to stay warm.
Is that a sign of good fortune?
I kinda thought it was, especially considering that the following day, I began chatting with someone I quickly grew to become infatuated with.
I met this person through my new online dating hobby. I chat with people during my lunch break, before I go to the gym, while I eat dinner, before I go to bed…it’s gotten pretty ridiculous.
Although I’m judgmental of my own dating habits, I’m honestly having fun. I like chatting with new people, flirting, and the thrill of an adventure that is inherent to online dating.
Most of the people I have been messaging with have been older guys, not for any particular reason other than that they were the first few people I talked to. The guys are as follows:
- The dark, sexual/pervy, introvert without a social life and little family. Talk about some red flags, huh? He’s 29 and he is finishing his BA this academic year. He’s also a cancer, which is super compatiable with my scoprio.
- The insecure, angsty/poser guy who is also an aspiring chef. He’s 21 and is moving to Brooklyn for a new job. We have absolutely zero chemistry of any kind, but he continues to reach out to me for some reason.
- The very thoughtful and positive 31-year-old with a BA in psychology who works at Whole Foods. He is looking to switch careers and is pursuing higher education.
- The casual, friendly, local-to-my-area mechanic that actually lives in my town and goes to the gym I work at. He’s in his early late twenties, has an associates, and wants to be a mechanic engineer.
- The intense and persistent 28-year-old guy that served in the marines for five years, owns a house, and has a cat. He is a cancer too.
- The random older guy that works in supply chain and wants to smoke and hang out at his place AKA fuck.
The guy that I had been particularly attracted to was guy number 5. We had been video-chatting every night since we had started talking on Monday and we seemed to have an immediate, strong connection. A connection so strong, that he invited me to spend the long weekend with him in his home, and I actually went.
Despite my friends’ insistence that I meet him in public before I go to his house, I ignored their well-meaning advice and drove an hour and forty minutes straight to his house after working two jobs that day and on dangerously little sleep.
I don’t think I ever thought this was a good idea, but I was bored and curious. For some reason, I trusted him way more than I should’ve, considering I hadn’t known him for even a week. Perhaps my trust stemmed from how understanding he seemed to be about my disinterest in having sex that weekend. Perhaps the fact that he was a marine was enough reason for me to trust him…the only male that I had been with that had treated me decently was a marine too.
Well, twelve hours was enough time to break the unproven trust I had for guy number 5.
The night started off innocently with cuddling and kissing while watching Black Mirror, but it got rocky when we went to bed.
In his bed, I moved my arm across his waist and I accidentally touched his exposed dick. I asked him where his clothes went because he had been wearing them before, and I was wearing clothes myself. He blamed “comfort” for his decision to be naked, which is fine except if you are sharing a bed with someone you don’t know very well but are attracted to, shouldn’t you be more concerned with their comfort?
I was uncomfortable, but I ignored it because I was prioritizing someone else over myself. Despite all of the hard lessons I’ve endured that have informed me of my need to prioritize myself, I continue to put myself second, third, or even last. This is absolutely why I continue to undergo the same shit. Honestly, this experience I had can be comparable to the one I had when I was twenty with the douchiest guy I had ever known.
What I should’ve done was either sleep in one of the other rooms in the house, sleep on the couch, or leave. Better yet, I shouldn’t have gone to his house in the middle of the night in the first place. I should’ve followed the initial plan of meeting up Saturday afternoon and then deciding what to do after hanging out.
I didn’t do any of this though. I stayed and I dealt with the discomfort, which heightened when he wanted to masturbate while I lied beside him. Before I knew it, I was the one performing the hand-job because he, and I quote, “forced me to,” yet it was apparently, and I quote, “an ABSOLUTELY AMAZING” hand-job.
The other marine I had been with had ironically described my hand-jobs similarly, except he had never forced me to do them.
I wish the story ended here, but it doesn’t.
The next morning, I was feeling pretty good. Regardless of everything, I had slept better than I had the two nights preceding the forced hand-job night, so I was rather well-rested. The former marine was well-rested too, and aroused.
He got out of bed and stood stark naked, waiting for me to look at him. Embarrassed, I avoided looking in his direction as I gingerly made my way to the bathroom to get ready. Before I could escape, he shut the bedroom door and cornered me against the wall to make out, his erection poking into my belly. I stood stock-still as his arms wrapped around me. Then he lifted me up and threw me back onto the bed, crawling on top of me and wrapping my legs around his neck.
I then said, “It seems we have different ideas of what ‘not having sex’ means.”
He gave me a displeased look and then pulled away to sit on the edge of the bed. I sat beside him, and then we talked. I watched his erection deflate as he expressed illogical insecurities. Essentially, he was convinced that I didn’t find him attractive since I wasn’t trying to jerk him off in the morning.
The morning from hell concluded with him kicking me out of his house three days early, and I haven’t heard from him since, despite the fact that I reached out to him to apologize for hurting his feelings (I did not owe an apology at all. I’m disappointed that I even did that).
Although my morning was fucked up, I’ve been feeling positive. I had relearned the lesson about the importance of respecting myself and my boundaries, a lesson I seemingly, continuously forget. This time, however, I’m learning it for the last time.
I also learned more about what I want romantically. Initially, when I got back into dating, I thought I wanted something casual…but I don’t want that. I want romance. I want to learn the ins and outs of someone. I want to go on dates and I want the person I date to have earned my trust. I want love.
So now my approach toward online dating is a little more selective. It’s better for my well-being that way.
What’s even better for my well-being though is consistently choosing myself over someone else. I need to improve the relationship I have with myself first and foremost. The relationship I want and deserve with someone else will follow.
That evening, after a Nigerian BBQ birthday party, I went to my car to head home. As I approached, I noticed that a bird shat only on the drivers-side door of my car, and the poop was everywhere, except for the door handle.
Is that a sign of good fortune?
“I’m not just taking trips down memory lane; I’m broken down on it.”
-Pete Wentz, Gray
Ever since I posted my most recent blog, I’ve been reflecting a ton on my past. I read through nearly every post on here, which is around 400 posts, and I’ve been going through old photos…I usually wouldn’t think too much of it but all this reflecting has been keeping me up at night. So…I just wanted to comment on what I’ve been thinking about.
I’ve been thinking about coming out again which caused me to reflect on my journey that led up to it as well as what transpired after I came out the first time. (Speaking of which, I wrote this interesting creative piece with an analysis about it for a class last fall. I will share it here eventually). I’ve been thinking about my previous relationship, friendships…and how my relationship with people that are still in my life, family included, have changed. I’ve been thinking about my senior year in high school, how I want my senior year in undergrad to go, and about what I want to do after I graduate.
None of these things are bad thoughts…but it’s a lot of thinking and it’s impacting my focus on the responsibilities that I have now and how I feel throughout the day. I’m worried, anxious, I brood…I’ve had enough. Especially because these thoughts keep me up until 3am and I can’t continue to have these sleepless nights.
Anyway…I hope by tonight or tomorrow I will be able to resume my life in the present…no more trips down memory lane for me.
Also, a good update: my stitches are out and the lab results are fine! I have another doctor’s appointment tomorrow at a new place because the current office I’ve been going to has an awful environment. I’ve only spoken to the people at the new place on the phone but they’re already significantly more pleasant!
Which reminds me of a theme that is apparent in my writing that I’ve noticed since I’ve been rereading it all: don’t accept where you are if you are unhappy. Right now, after this brutal semester, I feel pretty happy. I’ve been productive, social, and working on myself. I’m a little stressed about what’s to come, but I don’t want to focus too much on that anyway. I want to focus more on the present…take it day by day.
I’m bored with all of the books I’ve been trying to read and with all of the shows I want to watch so I decided it was about time to come on here and write again. So…yeah..I’m ending my Fall-Out-Boy-esque-hiatus now. My hiatus was not five years nor did I release an underrated, killer record before going on break and then proceed to get married, launch a solo career, or have children during my hiatus…but this has been the longest break I’ve taken from writing on here, and in general, since…my sophomore or junior year in high school. It’s a little unfortunate I didn’t write because I like to document my life, thoughts, and feelings…but everything seemed so…heavy at the time and the idea of writing anything…I didn’t perceive it as therapeutic.
During the last month or so, however, I have been documenting random thoughts/feelings into a journal by hand to at least get them out there and then I would organize them into the different Bullet Journal prompts I had going.
Anyway! I am going to resume writing again. I’ve been having an urge to write creatively over the last week or so…hopefully I can do some of that because I miss that. In the meantime, I’ll blog a bit about what’s going on and I’ll start with an update since a bunch has been going on!
Yesterday (11 Oct) was National Coming Out Day, which caused me to think about my late cousin. She was the first family member I came out to and the second person I told overall, and she insisted my parents would still love me if I was able to fall in love with women. I miss her every day. She was so easy to talk to and never judged me for whatever crazy shenanigans I was getting myself into.
Anywho, I didn’t write anything new to celebrate National Coming Out Day, but I attached the link to the post that includes the texts I sent to my cousin about my sexuality here. Unfortunately, I didn’t include her responses…I’m sure I have them on my old phone or laptop, but I don’t have those items with me now.
For other “coming out” posts, you can just search that phrase on my website. There is a variety of poetry, stories, and blogs about my journey, which has been difficult and long…it doesn’t feel over either. Since the relationship that spurred me to come out in the first place ended two years ago now (wow, time flies), and since I’ve moved out of the house for most months of the year due to university, I sometimes feel like my sexuality has been…erased.
The last couple weeks of the semester has caused me to feel glum due to stress over my academics as well as my social life. To sum it up: I am in the middle. The in-between. The grey area.
Every aspect of my life seems to fit that description. My sexuality and race/ethnicity, as noted in this post, my affiliated religion (I don’t identify as anything, I just don’t think about it), my majors (WGS and Economics)..I can’t seem to ever fall into one, absolute category. Perhaps it’s because I’m going and I’m still discovering myself and the world or perhaps it’s a false pretense that people can ever fall into one category. Regardless, this thought also applies to my friends.
I don’t have a clique or group of friends. Every time I think I do, I get proven wrong. It’s exhausting, hurtful, and lonely. I was complaining to my good friend, Steph, about it and she told me it was okay to be an outsider in the sense I don’t belong anywhere, I just have random friends here and there. She said I have years to figure out the friends I want to be making and who stays in my life too. She’s right but..I think the nature of college is extremely lonely without a group. Without a group, you tend to get left out and excluded. At least that’s been my experience. If I commuted, for example, I probably wouldn’t care at all about lacking a social circle.
Anyway..I’m writing because despite how much I feel like an outsider, a misfit, a loner, or whatever it may be, I’ve done some pretty badass things. Perhaps I wouldn’t have done them if I didn’t feel so alone.
Of course, he had decided to take the highway. There was no traffic on the highway, so there was no stopping. He must’ve known that if there was an opportunity to jump out of the car, I would’ve taken it.
I slumped down further in the passenger seat, my arms crossed over my body protectively as his words sliced through my skin. He said we were having this conversation because he loves me, but I wasn’t feeling loved at all. It wasn’t even a conversation; it was a lecture. A lecture about me. About what’s wrong with me.
Over a year ago, I dealt with a very traumatizing situation as a result of wanting to date someone my parents disapproved of. Since that time, my family and I have not discussed nor acknowledged nor accepted my sexuality. Everything is great in my family as long as I suppress who I am.
Yesterday, I had a very triggering encounter with my mom that was very reminiscent of last year’s traumatizing experience though.
I apologize but the next publication of my short series, Love Bites, will be postponed to tomorrow at 11am. If you haven’t read the first publication, please click here!
My weekend has been pretty hectic with my internship beginning and all. Plus, I’ve had a ton of homework. One of my assignments is to read this poem, which I am absolutely in love with, so I thought I would share it. The video is June Jordan reading her poem, and I included the transcript of her poem below. Please enjoy this and share your thoughts!
TRIGGER WARNING: suicide
I’ve been training to be a sexual violence response advocate for the past three weeks, and it’s been very difficult. Aside from the material itself being upsetting, the training has triggered unpleasant memories as well. I’ve also had multiple nightmares about being drunk.
My girlfriend and I had our first date as girlfriends last Friday, March 14th. We were supposed to have that date on March 7th, but instead I spent that day with her and a bunch of our friends. March 6th was the day that I had been yelled at for dating her…I didn’t sleep much that night. My girlfriend stayed up with me and texted me, trying to console me. She’s been amazing and patient.
Anyway, last Friday we went on our date. I told my parents I was hanging out with my best friend. In reality, Janice* took me to an Italian restaurant but the restaurant side was closed so we just got pizza and we ran into all of her old teachers and my current accounting teacher there. Then she took me to her house, I briefly met her dad then was led to her room. She shares a room with her twin sister.
There was nowhere to sit except for the bed, so I opted for the floor, suddenly feeling very nervous. I hadn’t been alone with my girlfriend for more than two hours for the past month…and the last time we hung out alone for more than two hours, we weren’t officially girlfriends. As of that Friday, we have been girlfriends for two weeks and a day.
Janice teased me for looking so uncomfortable, especially when she deemed it a good idea to change her shirt randomly. I looked at the wall, my throat constricting. Then we decided to put on Perks of Being A Wallflower. I had lent her the book awhile ago and she had just finished it, so we were going to watch the movie. She suggested I sit on her bed so I nervously took off my shoes and flopped myself down on her tiny twin-size bed.