30 ~ My Type

I seem to be unique amongst my female peers in that I know that I do not know what I want.

Seriously.

I think I came to this realization during my first real relationship. I loved Quinn, and I still do (though no longer more than I should), but OH MY GOD, SHE PISSED THE HELL OUT OF ME. She was everything that I'm attracted to--sarcastic, confident, Alpha, very masculine (though she's female), and sexy as hell.

Which meant she was also hurtful, arrogant, pushy, aloof, and cocky.

Kaleb is the same way. They both don't know when to quit teasing me, or how to back off, or when to shut up, or when to speak up, or how to admit when they're wrong.

It is not all their fault, not by a long shot. I tell them to stop, but where's the line between giggling girl and angry female? I want to stop talking, but when do I really need to take a step back? I ask them to open up, but what's the difference between heart-to-heart and casual conversation? I point out when they're in the wrong, but when am I right?

I. HAVE. NO. FUCKING. CLUE.

So why should they?

What I want is an Alpha male, which so easily turns into the jerk boyfriend. What I think I need is William (my dream guy; I wrote about him in an earlier post), but he's so improbably I might as well marry a mannequin. What do I actually need? I can't honestly say that I know.

My type is NOT what I think it is, say it is, or want it to be. This is true of most women. We have no fucking clue, but we expect YOU to be that ideal. Which is bullshit.

Nice guys are unappealing. Bad boys only seem like a good idea at the time. Alphas are difficult to handle. Pussies are superfluous--I already have one, thanks.

Sam is an amazing girl, and she's a mixture of what I am attracted to and what I want to be my type, but we haven't had the chance to really have a relationship. Our first two years was marred by our personal demons; our last year together was tumultuous and exciting and invigorating and maddening. We have changed so much, I have no idea what's in store for us or what we would have together.

The moral of this story is: I don't have a goddamn clue. About ANYTHING. And I'm woman enough to admit it.

And I'm no closer to answers or solutions than I was when I thought I knew something :/

24 ~ First Kiss

My very first kiss was when I was younger than ten.

I was spending time at my great-aunt's house, and she had foster kids. We were horribly mean to each other, and we spent the entire day chasing each other around, pulling pig-tails, the works. Then, I backed him up against the way, and smacked him one on the lips.

Never saw him again.

My first real kiss was when I was fifteen. Quinn was visiting me for two nights and three days. She only visited the once in our eighteen months of dating, though she only lived forty minutes away, because her parents were super-Christian (read: super-assholes). Kaleb helped me sneak her away--chastising me for the risks inherent, which he discovered on the way to her house, because her father was military--but no one was ever the wiser. I walked up to her house in a tight skull shirt, tight jeans, and purple heels.

We spent the first day in my room (I was super-aggressive, she kept having to pin me down before I could ravish her; she was shy, awww) and then walking around the park. I was puppy-sitting for Kaleb, who lived nearby with his fiancee of the time.

At one point, in his empty house, on our way to walking his half-Shepherd, gargantuan dogs, we started kissing. I think I essentially attacked her. Then, continuing to be aggressive, I pulled her to me, pushing myself into the wall, and we made out for ages. Not long enough, of course, but mmm was it sweet.

We kissed a lot that day, and the next, and the nights, and in general. No kissing intimately, but plenty of...other fun.

That's what happens when you raise a tomboy in a Christian household!

20 ~ Getting Married

No, I am not getting married. Not even close, not anytime soon.

There are only two people I know currently whom I would marry--Sam, and Kaleb. Sam and I are separated by at least three and a half more years of college and distance (if we last that long; if we ever get a chance) and Kaleb...well, we'd have to start a relationship first, and that is doubtful to say the least.

When I was fifteen, I began dreaming about getting married--only because I really wanted to have kids, and I was neck-deep in my first love with Quinn, and I was young and naive.

Not to say I don't still want these things. If anything, I want them more than ever. But, I am a practical, pragmatic, realistic, logical human being, and marriage is a mess.

It's also a wonderful endeavor, but I can barely handle MYSELF right now, much less children. And that's what it all boils down to. I want to be a mother, I want to start when I am young, and I want to have multiple children and really contribute to the gene pool.

I am smart, and beautiful, and healthy. I know I would make a fantastic mama because I already play the role of mother in so many ways--I used to take care of my brother like a mother, I feel extremely maternal towards my parents, I am the shoulder to cry on, I carry the weight of several worlds, I am a conduit for sage advice. And I can handle it.

I am strong, and I am fierce, and I am overflowing with love.

Parenthood takes much more than this--duh--like financial stability (to do it well for the kids and for oneself's mental health), an equal partner, and so forth. Which is why I wait. I am getting my degree, I am going to make decent money and save it, I am going to be all around kickass as a full adult.

And when I am completely ready to have kids (not that I will ever be completely ready to raise kids, but I shall do my very best) I will not depend on marriage to do it right.

You heard me. I am not necessarily getting married first.

Marriage is huge. And it often ends in divorce. And it is a legal mess. Yes, love is awesome, but I have loved enough already to know that it is NOT enough. (No matter what Quinn says, to my great chagrin.)

I may never get married. I love solitude and practicality and Rose and logic and money too much, as they all relate to me, myself, and my future children.

Plus, I know myself pretty damn well, and while this is subject to change...my ideal husband is just about THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE of my "type," AKA what I am most attracted to.

I want someone mild, someone sweet and caring and stable and understanding, who will give me my space, and work alongside me (not always up in my business), and who will understand how many other things come first. If nothing else, my kids, Rose, and practicality. (I call him William.)

The passionate, wild, Alpha male types--the ones that make me swoon, that remind me of my father and Kaleb in all their intense perfection--are not what I consider perfect marriage material for me because we'd probably burn out too quickly.

Maybe I am completely full of shit. It happens. A lot. And maybe someone will prove me wrong in the next few years. (Maybe KALEB will. Again with the dreaming!) But...I have plenty of time to make up my mind yet.

If I ever do, that is ;)

1 ~ Finding Polyamory

Like any story worth reading, mine begins with a girl.

Three years ago, I met Samantha.

Sam and I were both 15, though not long after we met we turned 16. It was a crazy time for us both. Ironically enough, both of our emotional terrorists were named Frederick. I was unaware of just how deeply her pain ran, or just how badly she was hurting herself, but there were no lasting ill-effects beyond the usual emotional scars.

We clicked almost instantly. Our macabre humor was born of ugliness, but gave us a change to freak out our classmares and be like no other to each other.

Sam had a crush on me, and I had a crush on Sam. But nothing ever happened. I had a long-distance girlfriend (Quinn) and I hated myself too much to ever believe she could like me, so of course nothing came of it. Except, of course, my novel.

Looking back, it was all quite obvious. We have always behaved like a couple, rife with drama, but without all the fun, sexy stuff. I have a lot of fond memories, and a lot of less-than-pleasant ones, but I regret none of them.

About a year and a half ago, we had lost touch, and I emailed her so delicately and sweetly that she had her boyfriend drive her to my house at 1am, where we proceeded to talk-talk-talk-talk and talk some more--as well as to kiss, once, clumsily, with teeth, and me laughing, and the mood never recovered.

Again, we fell out of contact for a while.

Then, in the second half of my last year of high school, we reconnected. She saved me on a regular basis from my last two classes and drove me anywhere and everywhere. Usually to the mall. We talked and laughed and cut class with none of my teachers ever the wiser. Once again, we might as well have been a couple.

Then, disaster hit.

Disaster for "us," anyway. Right after graduation, I was to move away, to Texas. We were reconnecting, a relationship was imminent...but it wasn't enough of a reason for me to stay in a worse economy, where even with a scholarship I would have to pay for room and board, food, transportation, and everything else. Where would my dog go? How would I afford a place? Was it worth it?

No, it wasn't worth staying where I had no family and few friends.

The night before I left, she visited me briefly, and when I walked her to her car in the middle of a dark and creepy street, she kissed me. Three times. On the lips, so sweetly, so softly. I was stunned, I had no idea how to react. Another friend of mine was standing right there!

So I said goodbye, and I left, and now I'm here.

But this is not the end of Sam and I. Oh, no, not by a long shot, not if I can help it. You see, I missed her terribly when I came here, all alone in this house for several weeks, that one of my first acts upon getting the internet back was to talk to her on Facebook. Late at night and for hours. I wanted her and I to be something, and she wanted that, too.

But we had to face the facts. I may be female, but I am pretty damn horny, and I've been lonely enough for the past eighteen years, I saw no reason to keep that up. Neither did she.

So I hopped onto Google...

And there it was, the answer to my problems.

Polyamory.