tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44392002639556420892024-03-13T00:42:38.722+01:00DiaryYou must be at least 18 to be here.Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.comBlogger796125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-17026304756270046862020-03-07T12:34:00.001+01:002020-03-07T12:34:41.389+01:00friends?I’ve been through some weird times recently. Most of the events revolve around men and dating... or even not dating. Just men. It’s been a rollercoaster. And I’ve come to realize two major things.<div><br></div><div>Men are attracted to me, yes, but there’s a drive that is incredibly strong and almost frantic. They become strongly infatuated and not in a healthy way. <div>It’s like either they couldn’t care less, or it’s over the top insane. There’s no healthy middle ground of flirting and getting to know someone. </div><div>And possession... wtf is up with that? Guys just want to own you. </div><div><br></div><div>Anyhow, back to my two revelations, I have realized that birth control has an effect of dampening hormones. It makes women less fertile... obviously, but in doing so it also makes them less attractive as a mate. I believe a large number of women, if not the majority are on some kind of birth control. I haven’t been on birth control for over 20 years. I think it must drive men crazy. I know it affects the voice, skin, minor physical changes in the face, but also pheromones. It’s the only logical explanation. I’ve had a couple men just blurt out that they want me to have their children. </div><div><br></div><div>This brings me to revelation number 2 And that is that I’ve always thought I get along better with men. Most of my friends are men. Now though, I have learned that they don’t really see me as a friend. They just want to fuck me. And so, I now understand I have very few actual friends. It sucks and makes me feel quite lonely. I have a handful female friends that I am eternally thankful for. They keep me sane. </div></div>Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-13557370174238355382018-09-26T23:39:00.001+02:002018-09-26T23:39:12.965+02:00SlutOn our last encounter there was a moment when we were on the couch at
the penthouse flat he had one hand under my ass filling my hole and the
other from the top working my clit. His mouth was on my ear, licking,
biting, kissing, and he whispered all sorts of filthy things to
me. This is something that made me cum so fast and so hard that I barely
knew what hit me.<br />
<br />
"Slut". It's a word that he uses with me and for some reason I can't get enough of it. It's a word that feels unbelievably sexy with him. Maybe it's the way he says it, his accent or simply the feeling he infuses into it. It rolls off his tongue easily, comfortably, and without judgment. When he says it I feel like I belong to him, that I'm his. It counter intuitively makes me feel good because in reality it's a word that should incite filth. And it still does to a degree, but a private, secret filth that is just ours, and that makes me feel incredible. If anyone else used it with me it would sound strange. It would potentially feel uncomfortable. <br />
<br />
If any of you are still keeping up, before I broke up with the BF, my sexual desire was below zero. I went from having daily orgasms, a few years ago to once a month, at most. Now, I'm back to daily and often more than once a day. I feel like me again. I'm back.<br />
He has definitely awakened a beast. I just want more and more. <br />
<br />Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-67776436432112439172018-09-23T21:17:00.003+02:002018-09-23T21:17:47.606+02:002018 trip to the UK with RobHi<br />
I guess this is what I've been reduced to... updating a couple times a year.<br />
<br />
BF - breakup<br />
Things have been going surprisingly well since the breakup. I can't say it has been easy. There were a lot of frustrating things and difficult situations. They still happen from time to time. The bf has been by a couple times, we've talked on the phone a bit. It's so familiar and easy that it's sometimes a little to easy to get caught in the trap of just falling back into routines. I try to keep my distance, he wants to be closer. He has mentioned that he wants to phone me more but I stayed away from the topic.<br />
<br />
ROB <br />
On a brighter note I went to see Rob in the UK. It was a great trip in some respects. Rob was the first part of a longer trip. I really enjoyed seeing him. It was one of our favourite trips I think. There was a lot of good sex. There was a lot of good head, at least that's what he says. I may have spent hours on his cock, specifically with it jammed down my throat. There was also some great socializing and wonderful moments out in the real world. We went to a small jazz concert in a pub near where we were staying. The evening was really special. I know that sounds cheesy but it was really an evening that I'll never forget. Great music, wonderful atmosphere.<br />
<br />
The rest of the trip was good but unusual. I can't really put my finger on what it was that was weird about it either. I just know it didn't feel right, not that it felt wrong... it just felt different than it normally does when I travel to the UK by myself. Usually I feel comfortable and at ease with myself. This time I felt out of place. I felt like I didn't fit in. I wanted to go out and have fun but instead I stayed in my flat watching Netflix in the evenings. In the day I wandered aimlessly. <br />
I often felt lonely, really lonely. I wanted to meet people but I felt incapable of even that. Perhaps part of the issue was that I chose to stay in an Airbnb when I usually stay in hostels where it's so much easier to meet people. One moment stuck with me, it was unintentional flirting. I happened to make eye contact with an American guy on a bus in London. We would occasionally make eye contact throughout the ride, I even contemplated staying on the bus to see where they were going. In the end I got off at my stop but our gaze held even as I was off the bus. He craned his neck to see me walk away once off the bus. I looked back to see if he was looking. This whole interaction cheered me up to no end. I thought about it a lot and felt good about myself.<br />
<br />
I guess after 20yrs with someone, I'm totally out of touch about how to flirt with guys. I haven't done it in so long, not in person. I've always resorted to doing whatever flirting online. <br />
<br />
On my return home Rob and I have had an intense groove on. I guess there had been a lag in our connection before we met up... not a lag... rather a reduction (logical, since we hadn't met up for 4 years). When I got home we went through and perhaps still are going through a period of intense communication and sexual desire for each other. We have had some nights together on Facetime, and some really nice conversations about how we feel about each other. I melt for this type of interaction. It's where I get a lot of fuel. Internal, external, sexual, and artistic.<br />
<br />
There is a 'BUT'.... and it's that I'm single and supposedly open to new relationships. I'm not consciously going to turn down opportunities. I'm currently not actively looking for anything but when I go out I find my eyes wandering. I haven't seen anyone that interests me in the least. It's actually hard to find people my age who are decent citizens. The guys I see that I'm physically attracted to look like they might be drug dealers. Rob is worried that I might sabotage my chances of finding someone because of him. I have thought about that a lot. I'm not sure that it will happen. I imagine it's possible but I hope to find someone that really blows me away. Someone that would distract me enough.... but distract me enough for what? Will I ever stop things with Rob? I don't think I'd be able to. I think there will always be a connection there. Things may dissipate but I don't think they'll ever go away.<br />
<br />
Then there's the fact that I find myself trying to figure out guy's ages. I find that I'm rubbish at gauging age now. I find myself looking for someone that looks like Rob, but where I live that's pretty much impossible. So there's that unconscious issue there. <br />
<br />
That's enough rambling for now. Hopefully it won't take me so long to update.... no promises.<br />
<br />Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-71532108708971928292018-07-14T19:18:00.001+02:002018-07-14T19:18:04.857+02:00It's Done. Broken. Over.It's been two weeks I think. I've lost track. It was a Thursday that I finally told him. The conversation was simple. So, so simple. I told him that I thought it was time to let go and he simply said yes. We talked about it. We hypothesized alternatives but none of them were feasible.<br />
<br />
We took the weekend to think things over and met up on Monday. He needed to talk. He needed to set some records straight. He got a lot of things off of his chest and it wasn't angry or anything. It was simply pent up things that he needed to get out: those feelings he never managed to express all came tumbling out in the form of excuses and regrets. There were moments I could have answered, given my side of the story but I didn't. I avoided any conflict. I didn't want to get into any of it. I didn't want to create an angry break up or feelings of guilt.<br />
The only thing I got into was the stuff around kids. And that upset him. Hearing about his behaviour around that made him angry with himself. <br />
<br />
He mentioned a few times that maybe in the future things could change. I said that I doubted it but that in reality there's never any guarantee of anything so who knows. I know deep down that it's over though.<br />
<br />
We are still in touch, we have been texting a once or twice a week. He has taken almost everything from my place. There really isn't much left here. I feel sad and am in mourning of course, but I feel isolated and alone. I feel scared because 20 years with someone is a long time and I don't know where to go from here.<br />
<br />
The week we broke up sucked ass. The cat got sick on the Wednesday, he had an allergic reaction to the vaccine. I had to take him to the Vet three times in two days to get injections and various medications. It was scary as fuck and I thought he was going to die.<br />
<br />
One of the harder things I've had to deal with is telling people about the break up. They ask why and I just look at them blankly. I don't know why after 20 years it fell apart. I mean I do, but I can't exactly tell them the whole story can I? I've come up with the phrase, it became routine, the relationship just ran out.<br />
<br />
The other major issue I've had is that I told my boss, she told one of my good friends (lets call him John) and he told his wife (Jane) and another friend in common (Ted). Great! I'm actually happy about that, it saves me from telling people. But then they pretend not to know. WTF?! And yesterday I find myself telling people and they pretend to act surprised.<br />
After seeing the whole group yesterday without any mention of it I texted Ted and said "You know right?" and he said yes but not to mention it to John because he'd get angry.<br />
I told Jane in person last night (who pretended to be surprised) and instead John (her husband and the one who told Ted) texted me this morning saying that his wife broke the news to him and that if I needed anything etc. <br />
<br />
What pisses me off about this whole thing is the pretending that they don't know. That and the fact that they couldn't just send a message saying "hey, we heard... blah blah, if you need anything or if you want to go out let me know."<br />
Even after I told everyone not a single one asked how I was or how the BF was doing. We've known some of these people for 20 years.<br />
<br />
His family on the other hand has been amazing. His sister called me and told me that I am still part of the family and always will be. His nieces who I love very much texted me and told me they love me and that I will always be their aunt. Losing them hurts a lot. I love their company and they're such great people.<br />
<br />
Now I just try to keep busy. I am planning a few trips. One is to the UK. Yes I'll likely see Rob.<br />
The weird thing is that things seem to have turned around. There's a weird domino effect that happened after the break up. Financially my investments turned around and I got noticed by a local gallery. I walked in as an translator (I do translation work for them) wearing one of my jewellery pieces and they ogled it and asked me to bring in more so they could put them on their website to sell in their online shop.<br />
<br />
Positive things happening in all this. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-52662134543670662852018-06-26T23:22:00.002+02:002018-06-26T23:22:54.055+02:00How did it go?So the trip to Istanbul.... It was amazing to see my sister obviously. It had been a year. The bf was aloof the whole trip. It was like a teenager that doesn't want to spend time with his parents on holiday so he sits in a corner on his phone or wanders off on his own to see things without us while we're in a cafe having a drink.<br />
<br />
He didn't behave badly per se. In fact I was expecting it to go much worse. I was expecting arguments, big ones. That didn't happen. He left a day and a half before me. This was planned. I wanted an extra couple of days with my sister. He had to get back for work.<br />
<br />
My sister and I had the opportunity to talk alone one day. She knows the bf and she has always defended him and tried to convince me to hang onto the relationship. This time however she was different. She mentioned that she could be biased because of what I told her about my paranoia before coming out to Istanbul but she thought that it was basically time for a change. She told me that his behaviour on the trip seemed strange to her. He was acting weird. She had asked him what he wanted to do on his last day in the city and he answered that he didn't know, he hand't researched anything because he didn't want to come. Basically saying that I'd forced him into coming.<br />
On another occasion while my sister and I were in a shop that the boys (hers and mine) weren't interested in, he took off for a pub next door. He didn't mention it to anyone, and when my sister's bf went and found him with his beer, he sat down and ordered one too. My bf got up and walked off to go see some shops. Sure there's a communication problem, the bf doesn't speak much English so they wouldn't be able to communicate much, but really?? he got up and walked away from a guy who sits down with you to have a beer?<br />
<br />
I have talked about it with my best friend and I've gone over the options and I've thought about it long and hard. There have been a chain of hints lately that have brought me to the conclusion that it's time to break it off. I keep trying hard not to say the phrase "try to break it off". I am fairly determined this time. I don't know how it will go. I fear it will be very difficult. I can't see any way of breaking a 20 year relationship off easily. I haven't been crying but I did next to nothing today, I just sat on my bed or couch sulking. I have been close to tears. The bf made a surprise visit to my place today and saw that I was lackluster. He kept asking me questions about why I was so down. I couldn't answer. I wanted to tell him right then, I couldn't find my words, it's like I couldn't think of any way to breach the subject. It was also just a mere hour before a lesson and I didn't want to get into it really. I sort of did, but I couldn't find the words.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure when I'll do this. I don't know when the best time is, for me or him. I just want to get it over with and start moving forward.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-4773385932850216092018-06-15T19:29:00.000+02:002018-06-15T19:29:39.312+02:00Trip to IstanbulHey, I'm actually managing to keep this up... for now.<br />
<br />
So I live far, far away from the rest of my family. Not just because I myself am an expat, but because all my close family are expats too. We all live in completely different corners of the world. My sister lives in Asia and will be coming to Europe (or close to it) to see me. She decided on Istanbul so I'm meeting her there.<br />
<br />
Every time she comes to visit she comes somewhere close, but not to my home town since she's already been here so many times. This way I can meet up with her easily and have a quick vacation while we're at it. Every time she comes to the area she asks if BF will be able to join us and every time I ask him he hems and haws about it. Every time he says he doesn't know if he'll make it, doesn't know what his work schedule will be like. He says that if he goes on a holiday now he won't be able to afford our regular holiday in August. Since he's vague about whether he can come or not, it means that as my sister's trip gets closer she asks me the dates that WE're available, how many rooms in the apartment we should rent etc. Details that we need to settle before we travel and EVERY time bf stays vague and ultimately says he can't come at the last minute or only if I press him for an answer.<br />
This has been three years now.<br />
<br />
This year I got angry, I said that if it was an issue with money I'd pay for it, and lo and behold he accepted to come. I am regretting it now. I think it's going to be a nightmare, I may be wrong, but it's a gut feeling.<br />
<br />
In the meantime I am seriously contemplating breaking it off again. If things go badly in Istanbul it'll be easier to do.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-10964852898715551642018-06-12T13:09:00.003+02:002018-06-12T13:09:35.856+02:00This Secondary Life I Am Leading is Fading.<b>Hi, It's Been a While. </b><br />
Why am I coming back now? I've
basically left this blog for dead. There are a number of factors as to
why. Most of them being simply related to my waning desire to keep up
with things on here. They trickle down into the fact that blogger pulled
their app from Apple products so I couldn't update from my phone
anymore, making it that much harder to keep up.<br />
<br />
I
wonder if anyone is still out there, if I'm on anyone's radar anymore.
Don't suppose it matters much. I have a total of three friends from
Blogger that keep in touch on occasion via email but I'm even bad at
getting back to them. This secondary life I am leading is fading.<br />
<br />
It's
fading. I've lost interest. Or maybe I'm just growing up. I've lost my
desire somehow. It disappeared a long time ago. Not even sure when. It's
my desire to feel sexy, to be sexy, to want guys to notice me. I ignore
it all now.<br />
<br />
<b>How are things going with Rob?</b><br />
Well
Rob is still on the scene, but in a somewhat distant manner. I saw him
for a flashing instant online in a crazy kick to try getting off while
bf was taking a nap the other day. Bf woke up and I had to hang up the
video call. But before that, it had been over a year since I'd seen him I
think... I may be wrong, it may be 9 months.... I honestly can't
remember the last time I saw him in a video call. We may have talked in a
normal phone call between then.<br />
He asks me regularly when I'll
come see him, and I regularly try to sort it out. I even look at
flights, but then life gets in the way and I can't seem to sort it out.
It's also hard to justify going to see him when I've already got another
3 trips planned for this year.<br />
<br />
<b>Things with the BF?</b><br />
I'm
at a point where I can't stand the BF. This is likely temporary though.
I go through periods, as we all know. There have been a number of
episodes that could warrant a post each but I'm not sure I want to get
into all that detail. I'll break them down briefly:<br />
<br />
<u><b>His </b></u><b><u>Trip to Romania and Prostitutes</u></b>:
After a trip with a friend to Romania he received a phone call from (a
different) friend while I was in the room. I could clearly hear the
friend asking about the women in Romania. The bf got flustered and
started talking loudly over him to try to shut him up. I got suspicious
and wanted to look into his phone (he has a recording app that records
all his phone calls). Didn't manage that until the next day and the call
was gone. He'd deleted it. I confronted him about the phone call (not
mentioning that I tried to find it on his phone) and he even offered to
play me the recording so I accepted. When I did, he started to refuse to
play it "why should I play it for you? Why should I give up my privacy
because of you?"... suspicion rising... finally I confessed that I'd
gone looking for it and it wasn't there. He was "surprised" and
proceeded to spend 15 minutes looking for it. A long discussion about
prostitutes followed where the final result was that he can't understand
why I have anything against them (which I don't as people). But I do
have an issue with the men who fuck them. He got really worked up about
it and kept repeating "they're just people too!"". My take on this is
that there is a possibility he slept with a prostitute while on his trip
or that he has used them in general. Something that I do not condone.
He acted suspicious. <br />
<br />
<b><u>My Paranoia:</u> </b>I
can't shake the paranoia. I honestly don't know if it's a part of my
mood swings or what but I get to the point where I feel like I'm close
to insanity. There are things that trigger me and I will go on a rampage
through the bf's stuff, through his phone and wallet, I'll break into
his apartment (which I never go to, even when he's there, but I have
keys) and I go through everything in his house. The most recent event
was triggered by an ejector tool for SIM cards that I found on the
passenger seat of his car. He generally keeps it behind his phone under
the silicone cover but oddly it was sitting on the passenger seat. When I
started thinking he must have a second SIM card somewhere I searched
his car, found another ejector tool in the cup holder where he keeps
change. And yet another ejector tool in his wallet. However I found no
secret SIM card. <i>It got to the point that at 4:00am when the bf was
sleeping at my house, I sneaked out of the house and rode my bike to his
to see if I could find anything.</i> Again, I found nothing. I'm still not convinced though. <br />
<br />
<b><u>The Cat:</u> </b>The
latest issue is a birthday present. It was my 40th birthday this year.
The bf got me a simple diamond infinity type ring. His relatives
(nieces, brothers and sisters) were all asking him what they could get
me and he convinced them to get me a kitten. This was his decision, not
theirs. He went and looked for one online, did all the leg work and
brought it home. Don't get me wrong, I love cats, I've always had them,
and I've recently been contemplating the possibility of having one, but
not a kitten. I would have got myself a shelter cat most likely a grown
one.<br />
Since the arrival of the kitten the bf spends more time at my
house, uses his keys to get in when I'm not here, doesn't buzz me to
open for him, just lets himself in and I feel guilty saying anything
about it. He is really attached to the kitten, to the point that he
calls it "his cat" jokingly. He distracts it constantly even when he's
sleeping with me or playing with me, trying to call its attention away
from me. The kitten was really attached to me when I first got it. It
would follow me around and only sleep with me. I get the impression the
bf has made it his mission to take that away from me. Spending as much
time as he can with the fucking thing. I have gotten to the point where I
want to tell him to take it to his place. I try really hard to not be
possessive and jealous over this. However it's a very distinct
impression that I get but I can't prove it so I don't know if I'm
insanely jealous and imagining things or if there is some basis to my
sensation. I know that if I point it out he would deny it he would call
me crazy and get really offended. It would be a constant bone of
contention after that. <br />
<br />
<b> Sex, or Celibacy?</b><br />
I
don't remember the last time I had sex. It was a long time ago and it
may have been a year ago... Maybe longer, maybe less.... it's really
hard to say. I have no record of it. No wait... it just donned on me. I
had a pregnancy scare. That was July last year. <br />
What the fuck am I
still doing in this relationship? Is sex this important or does a 20
year marriage to someone mean more than staying sexually active?<br />
I
mentioned this to Rob. He had three things to say: one was that bf must
be getting it elsewhere. He asked surprised why he isn't fucking me.
And he wants to be the first to fuck me in over a year.<br />
Part of me
is turned on by that and part of me is just sad. I've lost 90% of my
libido. I don't really get horny anymore and if I get myself off it's
something like a few times a month at most.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Why am I back?</b><br />
Not sure. I felt like I just needed some
space I guess. I needed a place to get this down, get it out, see it in a
physical form. Try to get my head around whether I'm nuts, whether it's
worth me holding on to something that seems to be non existent (my
relationship with the bf). I don't know if it's worth it... How many
times have I said this? Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-87779025742564369962017-09-28T19:28:00.001+02:002017-09-28T19:28:38.059+02:00Some days<br />
Some days I feel like I want to hurt myself. I never do but I can clearly picture myself hitting my head against the wall so hard I bleed. I don't know why I get these images. I know it's usually out of frustration and anger but why would my brain decide that pain and injury are the best way to solve the problem?<br />
<br />
Today is one of those days. And it's not really a bad day either but I've had a weird (non) argument with the bf. I need cheering up. I wish I had a distraction. Maybe my brain thinks pain is a good distraction.<br />
There's also a fascination with injury and healing the injury. It's like there's a process that is significant and symbolic. I love watching things heal. It's this quantification of time in some way. I can track time by watching something heal. Normally I'm terrible with time. It's a concept that is a little foreign to me. I don't understand it really. But healing I understand. I can see the progress of it.<br />
<br />
When I was with Rob, one of the best parts was watching the marks he left on me heal. The hickeys he left on my neck or the minor bruise I found on my arm would slowly, over a week or more, fade. What is the symbolism there? There's part of me that wishes the injury would leave a permanent scar at times. I wish I could have a permanent memory of an event. I suppose that's often why people get tattoos. I would want mine to be invisible or indistinguishable to others, something that only I can understand and recognize. But what's the symbolism behind wanting to watch something heal? I'm always a little sad when it heals mind you. I wish I could watch the progress forever.<br />
<br />
Tattoos are something that fascinate me but only superficially. I've always been on the sidelines. If I got a tattoo it would have to be something in plain sight that no one would know is a tattoo. I was tempted to get extra freckles tattooed, something that I could see but that nobody else would know they were there. Like freckles in a constellation or in formation. But the healing factor is missing. It would be something that doesn't really morph or change. I can't track time with a tattoo and that's the element that fascinates me the most.<br />
A cut would work. It leaves a scar, it heals and it changes until it leaves a permanent mark. But I'm not one to cut myself. Never have. I think I tried it as a kid once.<br />
<br />
I'm weird. I know.<br />
Would you make an incision on a girl if she asked you to, if you knew the reasoning behind it? It would be on a finger, a thigh or an arm... maybe an ankle or the foot... someplace I can see, possibly in plain sight for others even... I like the idea that people can see it and ask about it, it would be a reminder of that day, that event. Then I'd lie and tell them another story. Or I'd say I don't remember how I got it. <br />
<br />Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-48194612991693773302017-07-30T19:02:00.000+02:002017-07-30T19:02:32.945+02:00Fucking Neighbour Yet Again.So some of you may remember my <a href="http://secretdiaryofanonlinestripper.blogspot.it/2017/05/creepy-neighbour-update-i-should-number.html?zx=c88ac2033a88570a" target="_blank">stalker neighbour</a>. He was posting on fb narrowing his audience to just me and sending me what I now call private posts.<br />
<br />
This meant that his posts were very specific and only I could see them but they still seem public. Sneaky and a little creepy because you're never actually sure they're for you. The only two giveaways are that: they appear at the top of your feed, as if you've been tagged, but you haven't; and that there's a gear symbol instead of the little people symbol next to the post. So It's a restricted audience but you can't possibly know who it's restricted to.<br />
<br />
The function itself: to be able to send someone a post that only they can see is kind of cool... but used this way is very confusing and there's no way to prove it really. <br />
<br />
My first tactic was to ignore the private posts. The second tactic was to ignore all his posts. If he continued I would either tell his girlfriend or call him out on it.<br />
<br />
I called him out on it. After weeks of him not sending me any more posts I rode past him on my bicycle as he was getting into his car in front of our building. I courteously said hello and he said hi back. It was not the first interaction between us, but during the last one his girlfriend was there too.<br />
<br />
Next thing I know, there's a private post for me saying (loosely translated) "give a person a compliment and they give you the cold shoulder". The next one said "kisses".<br />
<br />
I decided to write him a message on fb messenger. I told him that his habit of flirting on fb via private posts was inappropriate and making me feel uncomfortable. I mentioned that I wouldn't want to get the wrong idea that he was hitting on me because I'm a friend of his gf and I figured she'd be really upset if she found out her boyfriend was behaving like that.<br />
<br />
The letter went on a bit but that's the basic idea.<br />
<br />
After I sent it he wrote back "private posts? sorry, I think you're mistaken."<br />
I said "oh ok, I must be wrong then I was seeing certain <i>specific</i> posts that never got any public reactions, but I must be wrong then." <br />
When I said that he said "people avoid me, I don't get many reactions on my posts but now I'm curious."<br />
I then replied "Never mind I must be mistaken" <br />
<br />
He's sorta gaslighting me! After our brief conversation I wasn't sure about myself and what I thought he'd been doing. My friend told me not to second guess myself so going back through his feed I'm now certain (I took screenshots of some of them), also he took the "kisses" post down, further proving my suspicion.<br />
Now, the fact that he would deny it and then try to instigate more reactions/explanations from me with "now I'm curious" makes me so angry. I mean buddy give it the fuck up. His best bet would have been to play dead, ignore my email and just cease and desist.<br />
<br />
Another friend suggested I tag his girlfriend in his private posts to me... but I tested that out with a friend and it doesn't work. The person tagged can't see the tag or the post.<br />
<br />
I'm very <i>very tempted </i>to send him a private post saying "playing with fire" or something similar or sending him a private post tagging his girlfriend just to scare him, even though I know she can't see it.<br />
<br />
I'm a little afraid of making him angry. I'm afraid he'll stalk me harder looking to dig up dirt on me and I risk getting exposed on here. So I'll likely not do anything.<br />
<br />
I am still contemplating telling his girlfriend. I had originally thought I'd give him this last chance.... but now I'm not so sure. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-11116102797167286972017-07-28T14:49:00.000+02:002017-07-28T14:49:07.549+02:00I'm back... I tried a pregnancy test!<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Let's start with the strange stuff. last week I tried my first ever pregnancy test. I was five or six days late on my period. A couple weeks before the bf and I had fairly intense sexcapades, he always pulls out but there's always a chance.</span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">It was weird, I wasn't expecting one result or another. Maybe I'm still processing. Maybe I'll burst into tears at some point. But I was fairly indifferent about the whole thing.</span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">After day 4 of being late and complaining to the bf that I couldn't fit into last year's jeans I joked saying, maybe I'm pregnant and we laughed.</span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Is indifference even possible for me around this topic?</span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Anyhow end result: I wasn't pregnant.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span><br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" /><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I was however over a week late and well</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; display: inline !important; float: none; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">, that's when other thoughts of running out of eggs crosses my mind and I feel slightly depressed about it. Possibly more about the age than not having kids tho.... or maybe it's just me processing.</span> Everything went back to normal eventually. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I haven't been able to post regularly recently because I Apple is boycotting Google or vice versa as far as I can see it. They removed the Blogger app from the Apple store and the version I had on my phone obviously stopped working. So I'm forced to use my computer. I might be able to find another solution but for now my posts will likely be slower to come. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u>Rob</u></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In other news. I got around to altering that Beastie Boys shirt Rob sent me in his care package with the ceramic bowls ages ago. Which means I can wear it on a regular basis. I was a little scared to work on it, I didn't want to ruin it. But I'm happy with how it turned out. It was a colour that was too similar to my skin tone so I dyed it grey and then I cut the sleeves off and the neck off to make a tank top and put brass eyelets up the sides to make it a lace up. It looks good. I love it and wear it often. It is obviously a constant reminder of Rob. I wouldn't take it off if I had a choice.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There's a ton of stuff going on in terms of my inheritance and I have to go back to North America soon to sort some things out so I've been very busy getting things ready with that. I asked Rob if he wanted to come with me. I knew it wouldn't be possible but it was fun to fantasize about. I have a week right at the beginning where I will be alone without anyone to hang out with. So I thought I'd ask him if he'd join me. He said yes... but obviously he can't. We joked about it for a day, I even looked up flights for him, all in good fun.... I wish... I totally wish. That would be so cool. </span></span><br />
<br style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u>Co-W </u></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Things
with Co-W have been pretty usual. There was one minor slip on my behalf
the other day. He had told me something and I contradicted him, and
when I realized I was wrong I apologized. He was so smug about it he put
his head in front of my face, with his ear next to my mouth and said,
"say that again" when I apologized again, he came closer to my face with
his ear and said "what was that?" so I licked his earlobe. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It wasn't a decision. It was instinct. After it happened I just sat there stunned at myself thinking what was wrong with me. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I couldn't concentrate for the rest of the afternoon and kept making stupid mistakes. </span></span>Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-64032307409635417102017-07-12T13:15:00.001+02:002017-07-12T13:15:56.492+02:00Not deadI'm still here. I will be back soon with actual posts. So hi.... Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-84089850831121632932017-05-18T22:34:00.001+02:002017-05-18T22:34:26.627+02:00ChangesEvery time I lose a piece of my family I feel less tethered to this planet, like a helium balloon tied down with a lot of strings that someone keeps cutting. <div>I feel like I'm going to fly high into the atmosphere and off into the nothingness of space. I feel like I'm disappearing. </div><div><br></div><div>My uncle passed away last weekend. Mother's Day to be specific. He was my mother's brother and died of the same (non-smoker's) lung cancer she had. My mother passed away 12 years ago. She died young. So did my uncle. My grandmother passed just three years ago. She was 94. All on the same side of my family. That side of the family is gone now. There's nothing left. Sure I have my grandmother's brothers and sisters. But close relatives are gone. </div><div><br></div><div>I wasn't close to my uncle, but I'm still sad. The whole thing brings up a lot of issues and guilt but especially memories of my mother's death. </div><div><br></div><div>It will also bring change. Huge change I think. There's an inheritance. In my great aunt's words I'll be "set for life". It feels like something so foreign to me I can't quite comprehend it. S<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">ince I was a kid </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I've always struggled for money. </span></div><div><br></div><div>But this massive change also brings a lot of questions. What do I want? What do I want to do with my life? If I wanted a kid the bf wouldn't have the 'financial' card to play anymore. He always said that we didn't have enough financial stability for kids. </div><div><br></div><div>Do I want to travel for a while? </div><div>Do I want to concentrate on my art career? </div><div>Should I take over the art school when my boss retires in two years? </div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Should I buy a house?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">WHERE do I want to live?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The one sure thing I think I've decided is that I'll be cutting down or eliminating my English teaching. It's the only thing I know I really want. That, and doing something big for my mom. For years I've wanted to put together a book of her art and I'd like to finalize it. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-6049938013652859282017-05-04T01:11:00.001+02:002017-05-04T01:11:37.650+02:00Creepy neighbour update... I should number these.Creepy is definitely the term I'd use, yet again, to describe my neihgbour's behaviour. I always had that sliver of doubt that the Facebook messages weren't just for me. Now I'm 100% sure they are. <div>He started again. This time he's being more obvious about it. It had stopped. I hadn't heard from him in ages until I stupidly sent him a message asking if he'd heard the same motor sound on the property that I was hearing at night. I knew his gf was at work so I messaged him on fb about it instead. Stupid move on my part. I should have just waited and asked her about it. The motor ended up being a water pump that activated during recent rain storms. </div><div><br></div><div>The past week he's been sending me private posts. Not messages. Posts, where the audience is just me. The first was a (bad and) sexist joke. There have been numerous messages in English. There was a video about ejaculation (from a Woody Allen movie). Today two posts: one saying how good my jeans looked on me. I was leaving the building, he was in his car parked out front so he saw me leave. Then he posted a song with the title (translated) 'If you Make Love the Way you Walk'. Lyrics like "I can't touch you, I can't taste you, I can't eat you....you're with him..." Bizarre song. </div><div><br></div><div>I'd have half a brain to screenshot his posts and send them to his gf. </div><div>I'm tempted to send him a private post myself telling him to bug off but I don't know if that will just fuel his attention. I've never, ever acknowledged his private posts. </div><div>I just like her so much I feel like a horrible friend not telling her that her long term bf... The <i>first</i> guy she went to live with... is a fucking dick. Ugh. Shoot me.</div><div>Who is dumb enough to go to such lengths for someone who clearly isn't interested and who is a friend of your gf? I don't get it.</div><div><br></div>Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-82750332613189079902017-04-20T00:07:00.001+02:002017-04-20T00:07:36.375+02:00Update on Wrist and Physio HottieSo the final update on my wrist is that I don't need surgery. I will be continuing physio, although not with my current therapist. I managed to get put into the healthcare system and will be doing physio at the hospital... As soon as they call me. It will be a couple of weeks. <div><br></div><div>During our last physio session the boy was distracted and somewhat distant. I finally found out what was going on. He broke up with his gf of 8 years the week he met me for my first sessions. I'm guessing he was/is an emotional wreck. Anyhow his interest in me dissipated or was transferred to whatever else, so our last session was as tame and boring as a bowl of steamed white rice. </div><div><br></div><div>Since his interest in me has gone, mine in him has miraculously gone too. It's not uncommon for me to be attracted simply because there is attraction. Once that's gone my interest just dwindles. He was cute though. </div><div><br></div><div>Anyhow my wrist is still the same. I can use it sparingly, with very careful and controlled movements. Any tiny distraction can leave me clutching my wrist in pain: turning the key too fast in the lock, pulling the car door shut too quickly etc... </div><div><br></div><div>The specialist told me it would take a year. </div><div>The doctor in rehabilitative medicine told me to start with 15 sessions of physio and added "which surely won't solve the problem entirely". </div><div><br></div><div>It's going to be slow.</div>Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-4291348324259863412017-04-09T18:44:00.000+02:002017-04-09T18:44:44.112+02:00Spring Warrior<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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My inner warrior came out of her hiding place just in time to play. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHaUtfhx-aY-tC2IFCLFv1f2MHYBPwdE0USfQBEYDWJcSsJScO1bVaKzEeMLbST14NqKusUQVE0FxIQ1pG4TN12p2ar4aXR73MwVR6B25TTZFpe8RLG4afoLDIs5TYBVtWvuva37o14vk/s640/blogger-image-1649321629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4qEd8wzPM8mZy748UupiSbVMN2RpEnVsrHbgBV0JuojHvL_wVKLBbQEBDi_3tXRBLJfyC9ndoxSlcVOL25OcNLWVg1_h5jC6NaFX2NX57nfCzt8kQJo7wLT-Vufi0IKr0OMBgCmmGoOA/s640/blogger-image-498779753.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
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I stumbled upon this quote and found it fabulously appropriate for myself. I thought it was perfect for a picture I to<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkEU6v8m8vDSNMjNM0U28NGGrTrS39bd0MBluBuXJPkeLscHGe8u6Ar1FRz8_fpecFaKs6yDMnZO59BhuiggpNc9Qpt_H2w_VKutTKa-I6njU0eEpCeXpT43NHbYXblGsBuGImcIXaYUw/s640/blogger-image-2136505551.jpg" target="_blank">o</a>k yesterday. Plus I haven't posted pictures in ages. I've hidden another pic on the page somewhere. There are a total of three including the one you see here. It's spring! </div>
Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-27614091003155746802017-04-07T17:29:00.001+02:002017-04-07T17:29:23.527+02:00Physio hottieI went in for physio again today. God that guy is hot. Today he asked me if I had a younger sister. When I asked why, he said that he likes blond haired blue eyed girls. He also admitted that he's single. <div><br></div><div>While I'm a little disappointed that he asked if I had a younger sister (made me feel kinda old lol... He's 28... 10 years younger than me), I'm guessing that it was a slightly unfortunate excuse to flirt. There's this uncomfortable silence when we do the physio if we're not talking. We're both too shy to really talk much so that doesn't help either.</div><div><br></div><div>But I now understand why people get pulled into spending money on prostitutes or masseuses. I'm totally tempted to get massages from this guy.</div><div>In fact I almost wonder if he uses his good looks and flirting to gain customers... I mean purposely. He hinted right off the bat that he has a private practice as well (I've been seeing him at a centre he works for). He also sent me a link to a hand strengthening tool on Amazon through Whatsapp so he has my phone number and vice versa. </div><div><br></div><div>I need an excuse to not use him anymore. If I can get the healthcare system to cover my physio I'd have to change therapist. At the moment I'd feel bad switching without a good reason. He's good at what he does and I'm guessing he can use the money. </div><div><br></div><div>Visions of massage therapist porn videos run through my head, I get myself off thinking about it. </div><div><br></div><div>Bad, very bad. </div>Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-58579628765358561962017-03-29T23:31:00.001+02:002017-03-29T23:31:50.484+02:00PhysiotherapistI was told to do physio for my wrist. Lucky for me the physiotherapist is this young and very handsom guy of 28. Even though he's 10 years younger than me I can't help thinking he occasionally flirts with me. It's hard to tell though. He's extremely quiet and rather shy. <div><br></div><div>I've had a hard time relating anything sexual to my physiotherapy apart from him acting as eye candy because the therapy has me in tears almost every session. </div><div><br></div><div>The first day I went in he said that he thought we could get through the pain and regain movement without surgery. On day three an intern came in and took a look at my file and we were all dubious about how I should proceed. They both suggested I go to a specialist at the hand surgery clinic in another city.</div><div><br></div><div>Today he started a phrase with "I thought of you last night..." And me, slightly surprised said "Oh, really?" I was a little disappointed when he said that he thought I should avoid sugery at all costs. I was half expecting him to just leave me hanging.... Leave me wondering what he'd been thinking about me... at night.</div><div><br></div><div>He also mentioned reading some stuff about my country of origin. It was mildly flattering. Sometimes I'll catch him stealing peeks at me while he thinks I'm not looking. We both keep our heads down while he flexes my wrist but still I catch glimpses out of the corner of my eye. </div><div><br></div><div>As for my wrist I'm not sure how I'm doing. It's very hard to gage. I have some bad days and some good ones. After physio everything hurts and swells. But then I have more range of movement in my wrist. The morning I'm stiff as hell and everything is in agony, not to mention the swelling pulsing and aching at night. I was up at 4:30 am today from the pain. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm reserving the possibility of getting myself off to thoughts of him taking me on the massage table. It's a fantasy that I'll make use of at some point I'm sure. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-7280645935842414652017-03-21T17:18:00.001+01:002017-03-21T18:11:01.548+01:00Health Rambling Again. Apologies.I had a mild panic attack yesterday. I'm guessing it was brought on by the fact that a woman came to take an art course at the school where I teach and she asked about my brace. Turns out she had fallen twice and was operated on, her hands and elbows. All sorts of damage. When I asked her about her hand injuries she basically described what I have, or may have (I go to see the doctor tomorrow). <div>The ligaments in her hands were hyperextended. </div><div>I know I have a torn ligament and often with these injuries hyperextended ligaments is the most common damage. She could barely hold the tools we use and her right hand had a bad shake. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm terrified. There is a high level of detail I do in my work, with all of the art I do. I can't fathom losing the dexterity in my right hand. </div><div><br></div><div>I am frustrated with the system here because if I want to use the healthcare system I need to wait over a month for an appointment with a specialist. The laws are that if it's 'urgent' they are supposed to guarantee an appointment within 7 days... But they can't keep up with the demand. So I have to pay for a specialist, which leaves me trying to find one that is good and available relatively soon. Plus it's expensive. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-91548144578851250932017-03-14T21:36:00.001+01:002017-03-14T22:02:59.353+01:00ScaredI finally got my MRI done. I got the results and things aren't looking great. Oddly, I've got what I had initially diagnosed myself with. When I first heard the sounds my wrist was making I thought I had something called a TFCC injury. It involves damaged ligaments and cartilage of the wrist. <div><br></div><div>When I got the second set of x-rays they found a pit on my pisiform bone and so I though that it was a fracture. </div><div><br></div><div>After the MRI, it turns out that I was right. But I almost wish it were a fracture. This type of injury is not easy to fix and it likely needs surgery. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm trying to stay positive. This kind of surgery is done with little incisions and cameras. It's not hugely invasive. But I don't think you can regain 100% of the hand strength. From what I have now it feels like an impossible jump. </div><div><br></div><div>This sucks </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-80294358244482620792017-03-09T11:07:00.001+01:002017-03-12T12:53:55.387+01:00NarcissismToday I had a lesson with a student who has been coming for years now. He's a psychoanalyst. He'll be teaching sex ed to a group of middle school students in the next month. Here, where I live, they don't have sex ed as part of the program. This is a one-off thing that he got called to do. The parents of these students actually had to request it. On a side note, I find this entirely ridiculous. It should be part of the program. <div>This morning we started talking about selfies and yes, it's all related, let me explain. </div><div>So, in his opinion, selfies are something we do because we see ourselves seeing ourselves. It's not just a simple factor of seeing a picture of ourselves to try to understand how someone sees us from the outside. He believes it mimics motherly love. </div><div>When a mother looks at her baby, there is a period in the baby's life when it can see its reflection in her eyes, he/she sees the affection the mother has for him/her. A selfie replaces that figure. We see ourselves looking lovingly at ourselves. </div><div>This also means, that there's no distance between the viewer and the viewee which, is one and the same. </div><div>What this does is it generates narcissism, we become self involved and lose connection with others. This bleeds over into sex. Nowadays we're all using the web for personal pleasure, porn is available all too easily. In the past magazines were used. Magazines left things to the imagination, it left the possibility of connection. Videos don't. There's no connection between participants in the video nor between the viewer and the video. And the viewer has no need to use imagination. </div><div>In real life this leaves people feeling like the only thing that satisfies them is themselves. It is a completely introverted and narcissistic behaviour that doesn't allow for a partner. The partner could never, and will never reach that same level. She/he could never compete with self satisfaction and the ideals of porn.</div><div><br></div><div>It was an interesting topic. Something I've thought about quite a lot and it was cool to be able to talk to someone who 'gets it' and who has professional insight. </div>Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-75328550114189453842017-03-01T19:57:00.001+01:002017-03-01T22:34:42.725+01:00Rampant IncompetenceSo remember that wrist story? I fell at Christmas and a month later went to hospital, well that was a month ago now and I've still got a brace on. I had to go back to the hospital last week to get more x-rays, they found a small irregularity that could be a fracture but they won't know until I get an MRI. The whole situation was a pain in the ass because one of the doctors yelled at me and made fun of me in front of other doctors or nurses, which was rather humiliating. He yelled that I had just been at the hospital not 10 days before, that I was fine and there was absolutely nothing wrong with my wrist... And this was after the x-rays. <div>It was such a frustrating experience that I burst into tears right there. Plus I was already frustrated with the bf because he came with me to the hospital and then got angry at me for wanting to go through with the ER doctors that evening, even if it was my GP who sent me. He then refused to come in to see the doctor with me. I was so angry when I left, with both the doctor for yelling and humiliating me, and at the bf for not putting aside his fucking pride to come in with me. I'm sure I'd have avoided the situation or it would have been more manageable. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm pretty sure my wrist is fractured, and I have a feeling it's fractured in a couple places. On the 10th of March I have the MRI and then I'll have to wait for the results for a week. Then I'll have another appointment with an orthopaedic doctor. So it will be a slow process. </div><div><br></div><div>Meanwhile I sent a letter to the hospital about the jerk at the ER. </div><div><br></div><div>The healthcare system here can be good but it can also be a nightmare. Not only did I get the jerk at the ER that evening, I also got an incompetent woman take the orthopaedic appointment. She put it in February instead of March. I was lucky that someone from the hospital called me asking to move my appointment to an earlier time that day and she caught he mistake, otherwise I'd have had to pay for the missed appointment plus I wouldn't have been able to see a doctor after the MRI. I'd have had to wait another month. </div><div>It all makes me so angry. Grr. </div><div><br></div><div>Not only that but I've had no real help regarding my wrist. The first doctor I saw said it was a sprain, the second said I had nothing. The only one who confirmed anything was a radiologist...</div><div><br></div><div>I've still got the brace on and it still hurts when I move it in certain directions. </div><div>I'm worried about work, I've got a group of 5 students in mid April, that are coming for a specialized course that is MY specialization and without my right hand I can't teach it. </div>Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-28083757718603036072017-02-12T21:50:00.001+01:002017-02-13T21:16:45.836+01:00The Art of MasturbationThe title of Rob's most recent video. <div><br></div><div>There's these overlapping, swimming images, alternating between aproximately four different videos. <div>I sent most of them ages ago. One I had no memory of, another was much more recent. </div><div><br></div><div>There's one where I'm wearing tight and very fucking short jean shorts and a lace top. One where I'm sitting naked, or almost, and pouring coconut oil onto myself. Another where I'm in fishnets and yet another where I'm just on the bed with a tank top. </div><div><br></div><div>The background sounds are an intoxicating mix of me whispering desires and needs into a mic, my breathing and Mezzanine, a <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Massive Attack song.</span></div><div><br></div><div>The videos are often in split screen, sometimes it's a video box over the main view. Some clips border on black and white with an industrial steel blue feel to it, others a sort of Polaroid, slightly overexposed and warm toned. They have a filter of soft fairy lights. But there's this glitch. The glitch is brilliant, it's intentional, the video skips, the audio clicks and it repeats almost imperceptibly. I love the glitch. He's inserted it into numerous places. It makes the whole thing unique. It's industrial and harsh and contrasts the soft and sexy images. It gives it an imperceptible edge. Maybe it reminds me of his attention to detail and the fact that it wouldn't be there if he didn't want it there. I think too that It almost mirrors his personality in a way. This warm exterior with unexpected playfully harsh undertones.... Maybe we both have that. </div><div><br></div><div>When I record a video for him I don't watch it. I will sometimes roughly edit them down so they're not too long, but I generally can't stand to watch myself. I can watch myself live, I can watch myself no problem, but once I lose touch, once I get closer to coming, I get embarrassed. I don't want to see myself cum in a video. </div><div><br></div><div>He sent me the video the other day. I'd seen a version at a moment when I couldn't watch. But Saturday I took my time with it. I actually managed to distance myself from it enough that it turned me the fuck on. I came hard, it had been weeks since I came. It was delicious. </div><div><br></div><div>I'm so fond of the videos he's made, I feel sort of bad that I can't show them to anyone. Don't get me wrong... I'm not posting them anywhere public. But man, I wish I could. They are awesome. </div></div>Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-89303590660463293072017-02-12T17:15:00.001+01:002017-02-20T21:55:21.472+01:00AnswersThe poetry of abandoned places, consumed by time and devoured by nature. There is a village in Africa where the desert is slowly taking back what was once her territory. Sometimes I feel like we are all just waiting, like the village, to go right back to nature. Back to whence we came. My body gets tired though. It is decaying as we speak. We all are. From the minute we are born we start decaying. We are simply moving toward closing the circle.<div><br></div><div>What makes it worthwhile are connections, emotional growth and what chemicals we manage to release into our systems and how often. That craving for oxytocin, the love chemical. It's probably the strongest chemical we have. I'm no scientist but I doubt there's anything stronger and more lasting than oxytocin. </div><div><br></div><div>So the short of it? We're all here to get drugged up before we die. The important thing is who we get drugged up with. That's what counts. That and how many times we can get drugged up. Some people aim for the lowest count, others aim for the highest. </div><div>Sometimes it's inevitable, sometimes we can choose. There's no right or wrong. Just cock and pussy juice running down my legs. That's all that really counts. </div><div>The ancient civilizations all had it right with their female deities. The ancient Venus. The large bellied and large breasted, faceless and limbless statue.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijjvz0xxQDcDq1jWJpXX0NWoxaODnVlhkyRR4RRofuX78_skw0M4afj6jva-Tr_gQYN4_-jmIjnMdrgkZkR5QZUMB36psUryq2FSXgZZOmm_7chtCYnlcSsq3903aKH2xsIva9mTKlr9g/s640/blogger-image-860292698.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijjvz0xxQDcDq1jWJpXX0NWoxaODnVlhkyRR4RRofuX78_skw0M4afj6jva-Tr_gQYN4_-jmIjnMdrgkZkR5QZUMB36psUryq2FSXgZZOmm_7chtCYnlcSsq3903aKH2xsIva9mTKlr9g/s640/blogger-image-860292698.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Provocateur par excellence. The embodiment of sexuality. She IS sex. (She is what the warrior in me wants to become). The ultimate objectification of woman like the phallus is the ultimate objectification of man. That is the meaning of life. Therein lies the answer we've all been searching for. Reproduction. But not just any reproduction. Reproduction with the goal of more connection. Oxytocin. </div><div><br></div>Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-42041091850234336252017-02-10T17:40:00.001+01:002017-02-11T14:19:05.009+01:00Missing LuckI fell at Christmas. Almost a month later my wrist started really hurting and making horrific noises when rotating. <div>I went to the hospital to get x-rays but they didn't find anything so I went to the emergency ward and they gave me the option of a cast or a brace.</div><div>I obviously chose a brace. It's my right wrist, so that's a ton of fun. I can still do minor things like writing and painting, thank god. </div><div>The other day, I got a cold sore, it was so much worse than normal. The day after I broke out, the whole side of my face started hurting, pain, burning sensation, pulsing and even just to touch the skin or hair around my ears was agony. </div><div>This morning I wake up, cold sore almost gone, but I've got blood in my ear. Scary fucking shit. So now I'm at the doctor's office. </div><div>Waiting. </div><div>Stupid.</div><div><br></div><div>...</div><div><br></div><div>She can't tell what's going on. She can't even see my eardrum it's so swollen. So, meds to take the swelling down, then we'll see. </div><div><br></div><div>Gah... Feeling sorry for myself. Joy. </div>Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4439200263955642089.post-33363770414394045352017-01-28T10:56:00.001+01:002017-02-08T12:21:37.187+01:00The Neighbour (Cont.)So he's doing it again. And there really is no way of knowing what exactly is going on, but I seem to be getting personalized messages on FB again. They are mostly small emoticons or simple phrases, they look public but aren't, at least not completely. They aren't offensive or flirty at all. <div><br></div><div>He had stopped for a long time but it started again a week ago. I noticed because the postsweren't getting any likes or comments, and they always appear at the top of my feed. Once he even made the mistake of forgetting to change the target audience back to public because he posted the same thing twice. Once to just me, and once publicly. </div><div><br></div><div>I am still ignoring these posts. But I do admit to being mildly attracted to the attention. Then again I'm always attracted to attention, more so from certain people, mind you, <font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">but still an attention whore. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div>Candehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01678003991987294180noreply@blogger.com0