It’s Valentine’s Day…

Whooptie Do.

It’s Valentine’s Day and for some that means a whole bunch of things, most of them seem to be pressure, worry and expectation. I hate this holiday because it was made up to get people to shop during the slowest time for retailers.  The months between Christmas and Christmas are full of shopping holidays so I don’t know why this one bothers me so much.  I guess it’s probably because of the way I’ve ended up romantically vs. the way I always thought I would growing up.  My mother was very cynical about love. She never remarried and only had one additional long term relationship during my childhood; that guy will star in another blog. She always said, “Don’t ever get married”.



She also said, “If you really like a guy and you don’t want to have sex with him, just give him a blow job!”  Looking back now I realize that she is not the guru of love that I should be looking to for advice in this department.  She also ruined much of the fun and mystery of sex for me (I was only 15 when she said this to my, BTW)

Another love glitch for me was the fact that my bestest best friends were always boys.  Of course I had girlfriends too but between the ages of 12 and 21 I never trusted any of them; they changed speeds and directions faster than rollercoasters, they stole boyfriends and their attacks were to crafty and coy for me. I was emotionally built like a dude. I said what I thought, I pushed when I was pissed, I loved fart jokes and when an argument was fought, settled and squashed that was that.

Girls never let go of any wrong put against them. I remember once a girlfriend was made at me for not shunning the girl she had randomly chosen to be poison that week and after she almost killed me tossing me off the back of her four wheeled ATV she stood over me and said, “I don’t get mad, I get even.”  It took every once of strength I had not to get up and beat her to dealth.  That was my first lesson in NOT letting my ferious anger come to arguements with me.

You can punch, kick and attack your boy friends and at the age of 12-18 it’s often a fair fight. You cannot hit girls and you can not hit anyone after your 18 because you can be arrested for it. I bottled a bit of rage during my high school years.  I also built up a big wall so people couldn’t get close enough to either punch me in the face or in the heart.

I decided I’d be all alone forever at the age of 19.

Everything that’s happened since will be laid out here, daily, because I fucking can.

You can find out more about why I am writing this blog here: deepblue42 : about


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