autotelic, autistic, assonance-hole©.

rambly update and a bit of a rant

ok. first off, i’ve been foregoing deeply personal posting or details in some areas of late because some of you reading here i feel uncomfortable talking about such things in front of… but i cannot afford to edit myself in this place any longer. so. either you’ll accept the full spectrum or you’ll give me grief about it, at which point i will likely cut your access because this IS my place to do whatever i need to do to get it out of my head so i can live a sane life and your access here is more for your stated interest in keeping up with me than my interest or need in editing myself for you.

no hard feelings and i’m sorry if that sounds hard, but that’s just the way it is. so… that said….

chalk up strike two in the ongoing ‘bonnie tries to date’ fiasco. i told a friend earlier tonight that i am already remembering why i pretty much gave up a few years ago and i’m not enjoying the reminder of what a fucking alien i apparently am. or maybe it’s that i still haven’t finished working out my kamma (karma) and the remainder is doomed to show up as decidedly poor matches who ratchet my hopes into the stratosphere only to cut them to shreds. why that is my kamma is unknown, but i’m dealing with it, sometimes well.

i have met someone i really like. we’ve been out three times. i had enough interest in them to set my status at the personals site to ‘seeing someone’ and my facebook account to ‘in a relationship’. needless to say, my girlfriends at the office (gee, that’s a first) needled me a bit. and, of course, needless to say, the fellow i’m interested in saw this and took umbrage.

or, more specifically, made it clear that he’s not only not willing to say he’s dating me, he’s not willing to say he’s interested in dating me.

apparently, to him, there’s no such thing as any level of commitment until he thinks he’s in love.

oh, and until he’s confirmed the sex is good.

which, essentially, means we’re going to be friends if anything at all. and frankly, i’m now hedging on the ‘anything at all’ part because, frankly, if he’s not as into me as i am him, what’s the fucking point?

am i smoking crack here? has the world changed so much that it really has become ‘all or nothing’ as the ‘norm’?

i am fucking doomed. i kid you not. capital D.

i’m not getting any younger and let’s face it, this world doesn’t allow women to be sexy if older. an old women is just old. doesn’t matter that i know what’s cooking here if no one’s interested in sidling up to the table, now is it?

and i don’t care what anyone says, nothing makes you feel old, ugly, and worthless like having someone you’ve cuddled up with recently tell you that they aren’t interested enough in you to be willing to say they’re dating you.

i swear the only men interested in me these days are married, psychotic, avoidant, or impotent. i may as well be a fucking nun… minus the fucking part, obviously.

i begin to see why some people just go the casual sex route. i mean, why bother with trying to love someone when the most the average person seems to want these days is the carefree fuck anyway? i could go anonymous banging when i want it and just get on with life, right?

oh, wait. no, those days passed with the ’80s. maybe someone should tell the idiots doing this right now in the name of ‘confirming compatibility’, eh?

not that it would sink in with them, obviously.

apparently i have finally become so old that i’m out of touch with things. three dates and i’m ready to say i’d date him exclusively. all he’s ready to say is we should fuck.

forgive me if i find that a relatively ‘male’ thing to say. oh sure, let me give you the part of myself that i hold in reserve as the physical manifestation of all i am… since apparently the intellectual and emotional manifestations aren’t GOOD ENOUGH to convince you i might be worth knowing longer than it takes to fuck me dizzy and move on.

yeah. right.

why do i bother again? someone, please, remind me in a way that will be convincing.

nevermind. i don’t think that’s possible.

oh, and then we have the men who like me just fine, but aren’t interested in dating me because i don’t measure up to their ideal (i.e., you’re a great person, but you’re not ‘hot’). i don’t know which i hate more — men who try to manipulate you into sex or men who refuse to grant your mind and being the same weight as your body in their considerations.

do you know how little looks matter to me? do you have ANY IDEA how many men i have dated that ‘the world’ called ugly? how little it has EVER mattered to me?

i swear i am so angry right now that i’m radiating.

no, sorry, i don’t buy the ‘it’s just physiology’ excuse. you are not the sum total of your biological urges and i am sick and fucking tired of being rejected because i’m 43 and possess a woman’s body rather than some sickly under-weight and overly stressed version of ‘the cultural ideal’.

bloody fucking hell, give me an ugly man who can think and will appreciate me and who isn’t afraid to fuck me raw and i’d be in heaven.

where is he?

oh. sorry. i forgot…..

there’s a good reason i call him ‘the man who doesn’t exist’.