Loneliness

Yes, I am aware I used to be a serial monogamist. As to why, I think coping in having a narcissistic mother and the disassociated loss, while feeling lost you can feel while not realizing how long you have been gaslit by the supposed ultimate figure of unconditional love. Luckily, my daddy is very loving and amazing. Else, I think i’d likely be a sociopath.

My mother was mostly raised by her grandmother and never met her dad. I never, ever wanted to spread my DNA because it meant spreading my mother’s genetics. My parents didn’t know I had a baby as I moved to another province in my usual run away pattern, my friend’s mother took care of me. I moved back with Mr. Baby at two weeks old. The road trip sucked. My friend’s mother was surprised I was able to pack everything into the car. I wasn’t. I had done this before when I moved off the island several years ago last notice to work, school, friends, and family. Three months after coming back to BC, my parents accidentally found out I had a baby. My dad loves Mr. Baby, seeing him around him reminds me of my own childhood. Further solidifying I temporarily forgot what my childhood was like through the blur of chaos over the years. What did become even clearer was my mom’s narcissism and my ability to consciously navigate it without constantly being triggered.

I probably should have become a mother fairly young, like 21, but I resisted it. Instead, I complained how lonely I was. I found evaporating intimacy. Fake intimacy. Toxic intimacy. Fantasy intimacy. It took me many years to even unravel the surface of this. I was disciplined in taking my pill, getting an IUD, tracking my ovulation cycle and period cycle since 15. Until I let my guard down in vulnerability and trusted my now baby daddy to respect me instead of trusting my commitment to myself. Maybe if I hadn’t of resisted what I truly wanted in life it wouldn’t have unfolded in such a shitty sequence of events. That seems to be a thing.

Side note, guys if you choose to cum inside a girl unprotected you are choosing her to be a baby mama candidate. If you don’t want that, check the many other spots you can cum on versus a selfish three seconds of warmth inside of her. Also, if a girl tells you not to cum inside of her. They literally mean, do not cum inside. No. Means. No. A person half awake or half conscious is not consensual. Fuck you.

I wish I could have figured it out sooner. I found grown man children with no respect for me and their own mommy issues. I found stable loving men and left them.

Nothing scared me more in the world than pregnancy or giving birth. It still does.

It sucks to feel like a cliche in that I didn’t feel whole until having a baby, nor do I believe in maternal instinct is innate as backed by Anthropological research. My loneliness evaporated. While I also look forward to Mr. baby one day growing up, moving out, just the fact he exists is all I needed.

During my first trimester I had just signed a lease for a year of a place downtown for $2,500 a month. I would go to work part-time which took all my energy. I would go to the store for cravings alone. Baby daddy visited twice ten minutes once, twenty minutes another time. Last minute drop ins. I packed my place with some help from a friend and her husband. Went to my doctor appointments alone. Got my bloodwork done alone. The ultrasounds alone. That stupid 3 hour blood sugar blood test alone. Drove the uhaul to move four hours away alone. All my friends worked in the film industry or multiple jobs so I didn’t get to see them often. Got a nasty five week cold that left me so weak I could barely lift a bag of groceries. I walked home alone from work at 1am and counted the long minutes. Someone screamed at me one night I was a fucking cunt that should die after he asked me the time and I softly said, “I don’t know”. “But you’re holding your phone!!! You fucking cunt I hope you get hit by a car and die!!!” I was so focused on each breath of energy to walk home I didn’t notice I had even been holding my phone.

I moved my cat to a friend’s place as she was going nuts. She destroyed the furniture in my furnished place and I lost the pet deposit and deposit. I navigated harassment from my abusive ex I had run away from in the summertime. Luckily he never found out I was pregnant as a way to threaten me as I truly was vulnerable and weakened. I navigated all the people he tried to get to find me or message me. Now, winter time and cold rain steady each day, I began Pokemon Go again to walk more. I walked when I could, aware of my surroundings and his frequented neighbourhoods and what my own routines were he may be trying to track still. I listened to the drama at work and slept as much as I could. I avoided them even more than usual while trying not to arise gossip. The girls didn’t know. They found out after I quit what seemed unpredictable and unexpected. I watched many movies alone. Talked to myself, or well Mr. Baby. I cried most nights. In hysterics. Screaming. Sobbing. Hours of crying each night. I would sit in my bed scream crying as loud as I could wailing or pacing around my living room crying and dancing. I watched horror xmas films. I slept on a friend’s couch and took the four hour commute to my doctor appointments. I took slutty pictures to maybe sell one day as pregnancy might be a fetish. I bought a webcam. I spent hours and hours and hours looking at names. I spent just as much time looking for resources, free baby stuff and services. My chihuahua always slept beside my bump. Warm and protective.

I was alone during my first trimester in winter 2018 before moving into a friend’s place in my second trimester on the island with her husband and two children where I would take two buses 1-1.5 hour commute to work, and then another friend’s mom bought me food and my vitamins which felt like life and death importance to me was my commitment to take the natal vitamins. Then just before third trimester I moved to another province, to get away from stress because I strongly believe in calmness during pregnancy. I took welfare and my friend’s mom fed me very well. I used my air miles to take a plane with my dog to a place I never wanted to be. Lacombe. I spent my savings on baby clothes, bottles, the dozens of things you need or want for a baby. I got many many things free or cheap as Lacombe has tons of children. I spent a day in bible camp along the way in a trailer with crappy wifi. 12 hour drive. Then a break staying at someone’s house for two days. Four hour drive. Then a ferry. More driving. Home to where I am now. Unpacking for what felt like years. Going back to work six weeks postpartum.

I was the most alone I have ever been in the first trimester, but for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel alone. I have great sympathy for the loneliness many people feel during this pandemic. While I have not felt lonely during the pandemic, I can relate to when I was lonely and alone. 

I do believe certain people belong in each of our lives. Whether that person manifests as a best friend, soul mate, friend, boss, co-worker, partner, or in my case,

a baby boy.

Cum on my Foot

I moved away from my beloved toxic bigger city to calm the fuck down a little bit. Party girl be party girl though and hop on that ferry, off to the weekend shenanigans. Fashion party, that reliable big sister best friend, here we are at who? I forget. Someone’s birthday  party at some club where everybody is important, because that is how the city runs. If everybody is important, who isn’t then? I love dancing in clubs because of the loud music, louder than is ever civilized within one’s own home. I love the energy of the people. Most of the time I refuse drinks, even water, from strangers. Stranger danger 101.

Unless, that shadow side comes out. She is like, oh no no no, get the drinks. Get the random person…persons. Get that flailing and off you go. I think I fell four times slipping in alcohol that night, five inch high heels can be a long way down when you are used to being closer to the ground without such height. The bounce factor when you are drunk is impressive how resilient you seem.

Don’t bother telling your friends where you go. Just whisk off with these guys to some modern expensive apartment. Seven guys and one girl here? That seems logical. They continue to drink and I continue to pursue. The guy I was thirsting over was married, I think, I remember seeing a ring and yelling at him (I yell a lot when drunk, like a lot), and he gave evasive answers or no answers. I’ve noticed many best friend dynamics over the years, and it is interesting to me. This guy’s best friend had a foot fetish which I was unaware of until he came on my foot.

My pursuit of having sex with the I think he was married guy, did not happen. Instead, somehow the three of us ended up in a twin sized bed of the best friend in I think a guest room. There, they are both naked enough, and I am mostly naked. Here, I am making out with whom I am pursuing, and the best friend is watching. I end up giving a hand job to my pursuit, which was a cry of disappointment from my goal of sex. They were giggling and having the kind of intimacy over this situation that made me believe they do this often and have a routine. That the bond is with each other rather than the random girl of the night. I remember earlier in the night the best friend talking to me about a girl from Maxim magazine he knew while I sat on the lap of the pursuit and listened intently. I don’t remember if my pursuit came, but I imagine he would have. All I remember is it was so early in the morning, here we are, they are lying down and I am sitting up facing towards them, in-between. Ever so gently, the best friend takes my foot and just begins holding my foot while using his other hand to masturbate himself. Then he came. He came on my foot.

That was the first time someone had cum on my foot. I cleaned up, I left, with all the polite goodbyes. Never to see or speak to any of them again.

Writing all of this now, I wouldn’t be surprised if they have fucked each other to be honest.

Voyeurism

The pleasure of looking. The erotic gratification of watching another. The sexual vigour of a secret participant. One, in which the subject being watched, is unaware of or aware of.

I tried to find a non-sexual term for voyeurism, I am in belief we are all voyeurs. However, not always sexual. The thirst for movies and books is a prevalent example of acting in a voyeur manner. The word I found was by Freud, which I have mixed feelings on research by him. I have since fallen into a linguistic rabbit hole. Let’s follow down…

Medical Definition of scopophilia

A desire to look at sexually stimulating scenes especially as a substitute for actual sexual participation

Merriam-Webster

I could not find any non-sexual equivalent. Enjoyment without sexual drive. Instead, I find the Psychiatry term and active scophilia is voyeurism, while passive scophilia is exhibitionism. Pardon? Wouldn’t it be the opposite? I began to read into the word most relevant to cinema, the male gaze, and female objectification. Didn’t expect that.

Go back to what does voyeur mean,

“Someone who obtains sexual gratification from observing unsuspecting individuals who are partly undressed, naked, or engaged in sexual acts broadly : someone who habitually seeks sexual stimulation by visual meansb: a person who commits the crime of 2: a prying observer who is usually seeking the sordid or the scandalous” – Merriam-Webster

It’s the secrecy, a fetish of secrecy really. Who are the consumers of porn then? Hedonists and voyeurs? No specific cause has been found for those with a clinical voyeuristic disorder. Too much of anything is bad for you, dear.

Side thought here, people who practice BDSM have higher socioeconomic functioning, in other words, they’re healthier.

Those pursuing their fetishes in porn can be a healthy behaviour. There does seem to be an ethical porn movement, with indie, amateur, POV, pay per clip artists, a humanism approach is preferred for the pleasure sought. While porn for educational means falls flat in helpfulness, the distal feeling between viewer and performer has been cut. Intimacy, what a concept. Is the world healing?

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