Day two

So, after my little mental breakdown last night, I broke down and bought a pack of cigarettes with the last of my change.

Yeah.

I'm still quitting, but I've decided to take baby steps. I smoked one before bed, after I removed the nicotine patch, and I smoked one this morning, before I put a new patch on. (I can't wear nicotine patches for 24 hours because they give me nasty, vivid, wake-up-screaming nightmares.)

It's helped. I'm less jittery, and my mind is more calm than it was yesterday. Christ that sucked, so much. I'm surprised I got to sleep, at all. It felt like my mind was being invaded by a thousand urges, and not one of them were my own. Never want to experience that again, thanks!

I've had a couple really strong cravings, today, and I've "treated" those with a few drags off a cigarette; just enough to mellow the urge, and take the edge off. The little "nic-fits" I let slide. Those I can talk myself out of, or distract myself from. I'm using the nic-fits to clean. I get a craving, I start cleaning. There's one thing I hate worse than cigarette cravings and that's washing windows. It's a punishment, and a reward, all at once. At least my house will be spotless by the time this is all over.

I'm going to start tomorrow off by going outside and smoking. Once my ashtray is removed from sight, and smell, I think I'll have less of an urge to smoke. It's pretty cold out, this time of year, at 5,000 ft above sea level. That should be a deterrent all on its own. Besides, my orange cat hates smoke, so I'll be doing him a favor, too.

I actually felt really guilty when the clerk handed me that pack of cigarettes; as if I was letting myself down, somehow. Once I sat back and actually thought about it, the reason I got that pack is because I was discouraged. I know that if I had had another day like yesterday, I would have given up and gone back to smoking a pack per day. I know myself well enough to know that if something makes me miserable, I stop doing it.

I'm crossing my fingers that I'm able to follow through, this time. Blogging about it is actually helpful, so I'll keep doing that. I've also upped my caffeine intake, so that will help with the ADD symptoms. It's hard to drink coffee without smoking a cigarette, though, so that's a hurdle all its own.

Day two, half-way over; 12 more to go!

(14 days is the time-frame most psychologists give for starting new habits, and that's the way I'm looking at it. I'm not breaking an old habit, I'm starting a new one.)

Thank You for NOT Smoking

Does anybody have a drill I can borrow, to bore a hole in my head, and let the minions out?

Christ this sucks.

I have Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD). I was actually diagnosed when I was very young, about 5 or 6, so it's not just "Oh Shiny Syndrome", though I have that too!

I've noticed a slight increase in my symptoms over the past year. I'm having more problems focusing on a task, but when I do finally focus, it's getting harder for me to pull myself away from it than it used to be. I daze off into La La Land, more often, and it's harder to track conversations. I get burned out, more easily, by menial, repetitive tasks, so keeping a job is extremely difficult. It's really hard to get me to do anything I don't have an interest in. However, if I find a task that I find stimulating, I spend "too much" time doing it...like the 6 hours I spent reorganizing the candy display at my most-recent retail job. Yeah, boss-lady was *not* happy!

One of those misunderstood things about ADD is that Hyper-Focus is actually a very popular symptom, as is inability to follow directions in the order they were given.

For example, if you suspect that your child has ADD (doubtful; s/he's probably just being a kid), ask them to do a series of tasks: clean your room, take a shower, brush your teeth, change into your pajamas. If they do everything in order, and completely, they're aliens. That's a joke. I digress...

If, when you check on your kiddo, they have their PJ bottoms on, before the shower, and they're standing in the middle of their still-messy room, with a toothbrush in their mouth, looking confused, they might just have ADD. Note that I'm not in any way a medical professional, so...y'know, be a responsible parent and take your kid to the doctor, instead of taking the word of some random blogger...just sayin'.

ADD is treated with stimulants. I don't believe in taking a pill for any minor disorder that has to do with the mind. I believe that the mind is it's own most powerful medicine. (There's exceptions...just overall...)

Mind over matter, right?

HA! Nope.

I did a lot of research as I got into middle school, and my symptoms started becoming "weird" to the other kids. I, like most other young people, just wanted to fit in, so I bottled up my urges, I bridled my impulses, and I kept my mouth shut. Coincidentally, I had a lot of headaches when I was a teenager, and I tended to explode in fits of temporary psychosis...just ask my mother. I was fucking crazy.

I learned that caffeine is a great treatment for mild ADD, which is what I consider myself having; haven't been back to a doctor to check the "severity", ever, so...I take my word for it. After all, I know me best, right? Meh, in theory.

So, I started drinking coffee when I was 11. Yup. I've been a coffee-drinker, ever since. Coffee, especially that which is high in caffeine, like espresso, is...awesome. Just awesome. I love it. It helps bring me back down to Earth, and it quiets the thoughts in my head. It also stops that weird tingly feeling in my hands, and keeps me from fidgeting as much as I normally would...

SO! Now that we're done with the back-story...

Nicotine is also a stimulant.

Ain't that just the shit.

I've decided to quit smoking.

For the past, oh, 15 years or so, I've been a smoker. I've come to the conclusion (which may be a bit premature, considering this is my first day, but...) that I have been treating my ADD with two stimulants, over the years, not just caffeine. The blend of coffee and cigarettes has kept the worst of my symptoms tampered down.

Today has been brutal. I can't concentrate on anything. I feel like I'm half-asleep from the nicotine withdrawals, but my mind is going 9000 miles per hour. I can't get my leg to stop shaking, and my hands are in a desperate search for something to mess with. There's a strong pressure right behind my eyes, I keep getting short, but sharp, headaches, and my thoughts are jumbled and practically incoherent, not to mention LOUD!

Now, despite the fact that I want to drill a hole in my head to vent the pressure, I am still determined to quit smoking. If I have to double-up on the black coffee to do so, then so be it. I want my white teeth and pleasant breath back. I want the yellow stains on my fingernails to go away. I want to live to see my 60th birthday, without being on oxygen. Not to mention, that shit's expensive! Seriously, you figure I smoke a pack a day, which is roughly $5 per pack. $5 x 365 days = $1, 825 per year. Yeah! I spent two months of my minimum wage job, each year, just working for cigarettes. Yikes! What could I have spent that time and money on, instead, I wonder?

This is the end of Day One of being a non-smoker. And might I just say, this shit sucks!

Obligation and Entitlement

Men, please, just....listen for a minute, would ya? This is going to come off condescending as fuck, I'm sure, but I don't give a damn. Haven't had my coffee, yet, so you can just...get over it or die pissed off. Either way, not my problem.

And, women, there's something in here for you, too! And it isn't going to be much nicer...

:)

Onto the topic of the day!

Entitlement and Obligation. Both these states of being piss me off, to no end. There are a lot of different variations to both of them, but I'm going to focus on dating, and more specifically SEX!

I'm a slut. I know that, most of my friends know that, and I've developed a reputation as "the girl to call when you're horny," which I find extremely entertaining...but that's a whole 'notha blog post.

I have a FetLife profile. For those who don't know, FetLife is a social networking community dedicated, in the simplest terms, to letting your freak flag fly. It's a place where folks in the BDSM lifestyle can go and not be ridiculed or...well, feared. (They're not as scary as people think they are. Promise.) It's also a place for folks like myself, who like a little kink in the bedroom, but can't fully commit to being a Dom or a Sub, to meet people and share experiences with. It's a welcoming place for society's so-called "underbelly". It's pretty freaking awesome, actually. ...but it's not without it's faults.

I have pictures of my naughty bits posted on said profile. Men have this strange idea that because they've seen a picture of my pussy that they are somehow ENTITLED to getting to see it in person. They think that because they came into a tissue over it, that they should be able to come inside of it. Vulgar, yes? *nods*

That's a false sense of entitlement. 

No, I don't have to sleep with you, just because you deem it necessary, because of something you saw on the fucking internet. I don't. My body is mine, motherfucker. You have zero...let me say that again: ZERO rights to it. Period. I decide what I do with it. I am not obligated to you in any fashion, whatsoever. 

I saw your cock, dude. Doesn't mean I expect to jump right on it. The difference is, I wouldn't try. Why? Because, despite the circumstances behind how I met you, you are a goddamn person. You have feelings and dreams and insecurities and...a life outside the bedroom! What, what?!

Guess what, douche, I'm a person, too. Yes, to the horror of many men, women are real people. We have real emotions and real thoughts and real opinions...and a real foot to shove up your ass, when you push us too far. Trust me, sweetie, no matter how tough and "Dominate" you think you are, a size 9 steel-toe boot to the balls will drop you. And I will do it with a smile on my face, if you corner me. 

"But you put your pussy online. If you don't fuck me, that's false advertising." ...*takes a deep breath*

I'm not a car, dickhead. I'm not "advertising" anything. I posted pictures of myself because I'm proud of my body, every single piece of it. I did it for me. Not you. Got it? (No, probably not...)

"If you don't fuck me, you're just a tease." ... (Really, right now?)

Ok, A) I never said I wasn't going to fuck you, ever. I like being tied up and vulnerable during sex. I will not do that with someone I do not know. Period. If I don't trust you, you're not binding me... and B) If you think I'm teasing you, that's your problem, not mine. I never give false expectations. I have never, ever, said to a man "Come fuck me!" and not followed through. I have a list of guys who can back me up on that. (Keep up the bullshit and you won't ever, never ever, be on that list. Promise!)

Men, you need to get off your fucking high horses and come back down to reality. You are not entitled to jack shit that you haven't earned. Sex is a big fucking deal. A huge deal. It's not just rutting and cumming. It's trust and release, and vulnerability, for both sides. If you can't grasp the fact that emotions will be involved, especially when it's good, then stay out of the pussy and practice grasping your own cock til you grow the fuck up.

Ok, guys, go lick your wounds while I tear into my fellow females.

First of all... What the hell are y'all thinking?!

Stop fucking guys just because you think it's going to keep them around. Stop fucking guys because you think you have to, because you sent them a picture of your boobies...or other parts. Doesn't matter. Stop doing things that you know you're going to regret immediately afterward! Just STOP!

I've consoled many a friend, many times, because they regretted sleeping with a guy. The most popular reasoning I get, when I ask "Why'd you do it, then?" is: "Because he would think I was a tease if I didn't."...

So fucking what?! 

Never ever, EVER!, do anything you don't want to do. To me, that's easy, now. There was a time when I was insecure and wanted to make people like me, so I feel ya! Sex is closeness to another human being, on a level you cannot experience anywhere else... It feels like the man really likes you, in the moment, and that, especially for an insecure person, is strengthening... Guess what, though? Your ability to lay on your back and spread your legs doesn't make men like you! It simply makes them like to cum when you're around. Vulgar, yes? *nods*

Stop being easy. Jesus.

I'm a "slut". ...I think I've mentioned that before...

I like sex. So, I get it, really, I do. Sex is great, and it's exhilarating and it's...just fun! Endorphines rock, dude! Sex is a good, healthy thing, when it's done for the right reasons!

Sex becomes not fun when you do it for the wrong reasons, i.e. because the guy expects it, and you feel obligated to live up to his expectations. Fuck his expectations right to hell. And fuck you for being a little bitch and not standing up for what you want. And deserve! Grow a pair and realize that this world will not stop turning if one penis doesn't enter your vagina. I promise, it won't. 

Your body is yours, ladies. Yours. Not his. Not your mother's, even though they like to think that they own it, because it came out of their uterus. Nope. Sorry, Ma. It's ours. Fuck off. 

And, hey, if some douche stops talking to you, because you didn't fall on his dick out of obligation or insecurity, that's his problem. Not yours. If he wants pussy that bad, he can call an escort service and pay for it, or he can go without. Won't kill him. 

Another thing! Stop agreeing to sleep with them, without protection, if you don't want to. "But baby it feels so good!" ...yeah, you know what else feels good? Not having herpes. If you choose to go without a rubber, that's your risk, and I won't fault you for it. I've done it. But don't act shocked when you get an STD, or those two little lines show up on that pregnancy test. You made a decision; live with the consequences.

I feel like I'm pandering to teenagers, because it seems like common sense to me. Don't force yourself on anybody, by the use of guilt, and don't give in to make them like you. Treat others like you want to be treated...

Better yet! Ladies, behave as if you would want your daughter to behave, were she put in a similar situation. Would you want her to lay down, just because she showed her tits to a guy and she felt obligated and pressured? ...Think about that for a minute. Let that anger and shame get you worked up. Now, hold onto that feeling and harness it for the next time you decide to lay down for a man you don't want to lay down for.

And, guys...you still here?... Treat women like you would want men to treat your daughter. Simplicity at its finest. If some jackass told your daughter that she was obligated to sleep with them, because she sent them a picture of her tits, you'd probably want to kill them, or at least make them bleed, right? (If you're a good Dad, then the answer is a resounding YES!) Then why the fuck are you doing it to someone else's daughter?!

Oh, and just a little PS, at the end here: Ladies and gentlemen, if both parties aren't fully involved in the consent to sexual activities, be it second-thoughts, or inebriation, or whatever the case may be, that's rape. If a woman says STOP halfway through intercourse, and you don't stop, fellas, that's rape. Ladies, if a guy decides that he doesn't want to fuck you, even after he's hard, but you jump on anyway, that's rape! Don't go there. Just...stop. The orgasm is not worth breaking somebody's spirit.

I could go on for hours about this shit, and maybe I'll post another blog about it, once I've had coffee and nicotine, but for now, let's just not be a dick, K?

The War on Guns...oh, the irony...

I have been trying, very hard, to avoid any kind of truly controversial or political post...I just can't do it, anymore.

Am I the only one who has noticed the increase of firearm legislation, across the US?

Not really a big deal, in my opinion. So, I have 3 less rounds in my magazine...who cares?

Something else I've noticed is that there are a lot of "Mass Shootings" going around, lately.

***Now, I want to go on record saying that I am NOT belittling the tragedy of the deaths of children and innocent people.*** I'm not a complete asshole.

The Telegraph has an article up that details the number of Mass Shootings in the past 12 months, (I'll post a link to that story, below) starting with Sandy Hook Elementary, in December of 2012, and ending with a shooting in Topeka, KS, on December 1st, 2013. Not all of the Mass Shootings made headlines, which is tragic in itself. The media only covers the high-profile shootings, because Ratings!

Aurora Theater was a Mass Shooting.

LAX was not, yet the media still used the phrase...

M.S.'s are described as FOUR OR MORE people being killed in a single incident.

We've had 23, in 12 months, resulting in over 100 deaths.

The problem is not the guns. The problem is lack of training and education. The problem is the people.

I own a firearm. I've been shooting since I was 6-years-old. My first gun was a little air-powered pellet rifle. My father and my brother made sure that it was never within my reach unless they were around, and they were never more than a foot away from me, while it was in my hands. That's Responsible Gun Ownership.

I fired my first "real" gun, a .22 caliber rifle, at the age of eight (8). It took four more years before I had anything more powerful than that in my hands. Why? My father wanted to make sure that I understood every working detail about guns, and how powerful they are, and that they are not to be used on another person, unless my life is truly in danger.

I was taught to never, ever touch the trigger until I was locked onto a target, and to never, ever target anything I didn't intend to kill. I was taught that I held another being's life in my hands, whether a squirrel or a person, as soon as I aimed the gun at it. I learned how big that responsibility is.

I learned how to clean and care for a weapon...and I learned what the word "weapon" means. I was taught to never fear guns, but to respect their power. Dad told me that when a firearm was in my hand, I could be the most powerful person in the room, or the most cowardly, and it was up to me to decide who I was. My father didn't raise a coward.

These people who decide to settle an argument by killing the other person are cowards.

These people who decide to open fire on a group of unarmed citizens are cowards.

There is no reason to ever kill another human being, ever, especially a coward. You know what you get when you shoot a coward in this country? A medal. (Whaaaa?)

My father taught me that, even if I'm angry, (or maybe especially if I'm angry), a firearm is not to be drawn unless the intent is the death of the other party. I have never fired upon another human. I have drawn my weapon, ONCE, in the 20 plus years I've been handling them. The situation never escalated to the point of pulling the trigger, because I had the power, and I didn't take the cowardly way out. It was that simple. Once the situation de-escalated, the gun went away, and so did the other person.

There are some cases where the gunman in these mass shootings had PTSD or other psychological issues. That speaks to the level of mental care in this country, not to the lack of gun safety. The Naval Yard Shooting might have been prevented with proper care.

The problem with the lack of firearm education and training is fueling all kinds of political agendas. Politicians, across the country, are promising that if we give up our guns, our children will be safe in their beds, and at school, and the movie theater. I don't agree.

You know why there were fewer shootings, like the 23 we had this year, in the 1950-60s?

Firearm safety was taught in public schools.

Whoa. Blew your mind, right there, didn't I?

The same education that I received from my father, a Responsible Gun Owner, nearly every child in America received, in school.

Why are we not still doing this?

Probably for the same reason "Under God" was taken out of our pledge (which is ok...since it wasn't IN the pledge until 1954, anyway); probably for the same reason there's no morning prayer in our schools, anymore...probably for the same reason our children aren't allowed to play tag, or hold hands on the playground...and the reason they all get Participation Trophies...(don't even get me started on that BS).

This country has become a group of whiners. We're all too afraid to offend someone, so we decide to offend everyone, instead. We walk on eggshells. We don't speak our minds. We've learned to fear the truth, unless it's told by reporters...at which point it is no longer TRUE. It's spun and it's got an agenda attached to it and it just crap, as soon as the media gets a hold on it.

It's a sad state of affairs...

We're all cowards and unless someone (by that, I mean everyone) stands up to the bullies, the degenerates, the assholes, and the politicians, we're going to die a coward's death: on someone else's terms.



The Telegraph's article:  http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/northamerica/usa/10516913/Interactive-graphic-the-23-US-mass-shootings-since-Sandy-Hook.html

Note: The opinions expressed in this blog are my own, and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Blogger, Google, The Telegraph, or any other sites/companies mentioned herein.

Take that lawyers! :P

On a Roll

I'm in the mood to write, tonight. The problem is, I can't pick a topic. I could go political and talk about how much the government is screwing the American people. I could talk about religion. I could rant, some more, about my douchebag ex.

Meh.

Oh, I know!

Cops.

No, not the TV show.

I like cops. I grew up around bikers and truckers, in a trailer park full of alcoholics and degenerates, but I like cops. (and firemen, and military boys...what? I'm not blind!)

In all the times I've been contacted by the police, I've come across maybe two assholes in the bunch.

I think my earliest memory of Police, and probably when I learned that they are just as human as the rest of us, comes from when I was about 4 or 5.

We lived in a trailer park, at the edge of a huge field, with a Federal Maximum Security Prison, on the opposite edge. (Florence, CO, if anyone cares.) There was a break-out. It happens more than you'd think, considering the huge fences and dozens of armed guards patrolling the perimeter.

Anyway!

There was a break-out, at the BOP Supermax. I didn't really understand what was going on, except that mom had all the windows closed and I wasn't allowed to go outside. (Not fair!) There was a knock at the door. S.W.A.T. was on the other side. He told Mom that he had to check the house, because the inmate was last seen headed our direction. We were cleared, obviously.

The guys are all congregation in our driveway, after sweeping the park, and one of them yells. The inmate was spotted in the field behind the house. SWAT scatters and starts hauling ass toward the field, jumping the front fence, running through the yard, then jumping the back fence. My mom rushes outside to warn them:

"Watch out for the-"  SPLASH! "-ditch behind the house..."

I giggled. Mom tried not to, but it was hard, seeing a man in full riot gear, covered head-to-toe, in mud, dripping wet and looking absolutely...miserable. Red clay mud. Sticky, thick, gets-into-every-pore kind of mud. (Awesome Mud Pie mud!) The LT is leaning against the back of the trailer, laughing his ass off. The Mud Man crawls out of the ditch, and mom manages to hand him a rag between her giggles.

"That'll teach you to be aware your surroundings," Mom tells him, causing the LT to laugh even harder.

I got a kick out of seeing it. I was a kid. What kid wouldn't laugh when someone fell into the mud? What strikes me now, a few years later, is that my mother gave him hell for it. She didn't hide her laughter for long, and as she helped him get cleaned up, she poked fun at him, just like she would have if it were me, or my brother, or anyone else who had fallen into the irrigation ditch behind the house.

She set the standard that I try to follow, today.

I noticed, a few weeks back, that one of our local cops got a new car. So, instead of simply acknowledging it to myself, I said, "Hey! You got the new one, huh?" He kind of grins like he's really excited about it and nods.

"You got the new fancy LED lights, too?" Another nod and smile.

"Can I see em?" I ask with a big grin, and just like a little kid showing off a new toy, turns on the lights and launches into explaining why they are as cool as they are.

See? People, just like us.

I have a lot friends who hate cops. Most of them have done jail time. There are a lot of people who are afraid of cops, which I don't understand. They're doing their job, getting paid far less than they should, to protect people, and their community. They get blamed for bullshit laws. Well, here's the thing: they don't write the laws, they simply enforce them. Hence the title: Law Enforcement Officer.

You have a problem with the laws, take it up with your Congressmen.

They're the real assholes.

Shifting Gears

I hate, hate, hate whiny people who always think that they're right and everybody else is wrong. (*shuffles feet* No, not me. I know I'm always right...there's a difference. :P)

I have a FB friend, whom I've been friends with for a while. She's a sweet woman but a little over-dramatic about some things. It happens. It's happened to me. Not a big deal. Anyways...to get to the point of this particular rant:

People who cannot drive, park, or otherwise operate a motor vehicle in a correct manner, piss me off! It's really not all that difficult to learn how long and wide your vehicle is, and maneuver it, accordingly. It's not that hard (or it shouldn't be) to know where your skill level is, and not to put other people's lives at risk, because of your pride.

You! In that gigantic pickup! Yes, I realize you have a lift kit and 36" tires, but you don't need half of my lane, too... I promise, if a Kenworth can fit in one lane, so can your Dodge. Just sayin'. 

You! In the compact coupe! I know the road can be a little intimidating when your the smallest thing out there, but I gave you plenty of room to slip in front of me, safely. Please, don't slam on your brakes right before you merge. You're gonna kill someone!

You, southern boy, who hasn't seen a flake of snow in his life, living in the North! Please, for the love of all that's holy, stay off the roads when it's icy! Don't assume that, just because you have a four-wheel drive, you;re going to be able to handle it. Yes, I understand you've been driving for 20 years. Yes, I understand that you've never had an accident. I get it. However, four-wheel drive does NOT mean four-wheel stop. Take a winter driving class, or stay off the damn road!

You! In the truck! (I love pick-up drivers... -_-) Just because you have a truck, does not mean you're going to make it through three-feet of running water. Stop trying it! You'll either A.) get stuck and put someone else's life at risk, when they try to rescue your dumb ass, or B.) suck water into your motor and kill your truck, then get pissed off at the city for not having "proper drainage"...mother-effer, if you has just stopped, or taken a different route, instead of trying to show off your manliness, you wouldn't have this problem.

Then there are the ones who drive too slow, or too fast...the ones who signal way too early, or not at all...the ones who leave their damn blinker on for 50 miles *twitch*...and...then there's my Facebook friend: *sigh*

She drives the Nissan. She is pissed off because the trucker got too close to her car.

Now, I'm not going to say what I believe is the problem, here. Take a look at the photo and tell me what you think made me laugh...

(The trucker is parked, length-wise, along the backend of the parking lot, where they should be, taking up multiple parking spaces...no that's not the issue I see. I'm just putting that out there for those who over-think things...people like me!)

Damn, he got close, didn't he? LOL! At least he know how big his vehicle is!

Stereotypes, round 2! FIGHT!

I'm up late, and as is usual, I am browsing Facebook, just droning away the time. 

Yesterday, I wrote about what women are expected to be like, according to men...Today, I'm going to flip it.

Women are just as bad as men when it comes to stereotyping. I'm guilty of it, and most of my friends are also guilty of it. 

Men are supposed to be sex machines. They're supposed to know about cars, and be good at First Person Shooter video games. They're supposed to hairy, and strong, and emotionless. Men are good at fixing things, and breaking them. They have short tempers, and they're generally just assholes.

Right?

Men don't fall in love. They fall in "need"...or lust. Men cannot put aside their need for sex, to think rationally about their lives. After all, they only have enough blood to run one head at a time, right? 

I came across the following writing, and it made me stop and think...hopefully it does the same for you:

""I once met a girl who made me believe in true love. 

She was what I always dreamed about, what I never thought I’d actually have. 
She made me smile like never before, and gave me hope amidst all of my troubles. 
Nothing else mattered but her hand in mine through it all.
Nothing else mattered. 
I was in love, and it was the best feeling ever.

So I ignored the signs.
I ignored her increasing disinterest in what I had to say.
I ignored her irritability towards my flaws.
I ignored her lack of gratitude for all that I did for her.
I ignored everything that told me she wasn’t perfect.
Everything that told me this love I felt wasn’t real.

Then the day came when I could no longer lie to myself.
The truth slapped me in the face like no physical pain ever could.
I was crying on her porch, locked up in the fetal position.
She just stood over me, asking me to please stop.
I couldn’t just stop.
She was everything to me, and I was about to lose her forever.
I begged her to stay, I promised to be better.
But her mind was made up.
She had already moved on.

It’s been about five months since the day she broke up with me.
I used to think that it was her that I missed so deeply.
I have now come to realize that is not the truth.
What I miss is how I felt when I was with her.
How it feels to know someone will always be there for me.
How it feels to give every bit of my heart to someone unconditionally.
How it feels to have such blind faith in another human being.
How it feels to be in love.

I’m afraid now.
I’m afraid that how I felt with her won’t happen again.
I’m afraid that next time I won’t be so naive.
I’m afraid that a part of my heart is gone forever.

My only relief is in the hope that maybe one day someone will come along and prove me wrong.
Someone who removes all of my fears and doubts.
Someone who restores my heart’s innocence.
Someone who makes me feel whole again.

I can only hope."

By Robert Hemphill.

See, ladies?

Men love as much as we do, if not more.

Men have hearts, just the same as ours.

So what if he can't change the oil in the car? So what if he would rather read than watch sports?

Does he treat you right? Does he make you feel better when you're down? Does he do nice little things for you, just because he wants to see you smile?

Think it over, before you drop him for not fitting your preconceived notion of what men "should" be...

Let him be the man that he is.