Archive for April, 2012

Dear Weed,

I love you. You make me feel all the things opposite of how men make me feel.

Soft. Safe. Warm. Protected. Happy. Light-hearted. Unafraid. Calm. Lustful. Silly.

I don’t feel those things around men. You are like a lover like that. A lover I never had.

I look forward to you at the end of a long day or a hard week. I know you will be there for me. I combine you and a warm bath with candlelight and music and water with cucumber slices. If people have let me down or been rude or mean. You will be there. Comfort me. I’ll have fun with you. I’ll feel good with you. Guaranteed.

I love you Weed.

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Dear Trainer,

I have to take responsibility for the part I play in my interactions with you being weird. In fact. It’s 100% me.

I am playing out some shit from past relationships on you. You have similar qualities as men I have dated who are noncommital and checked out. But also very kind and sensitive and sweet. I react to you in ways that have everything to do with my insecurities and baggage about men. Sometimes I am normal and friendly with you. Other times I am bitchy. Real weird.

You’re weird in your own right. One day you’re vacant and distracted. Another day you tell me about how you were molested, your commitment issues, your money issues, your sex issues, your past with drugs and drugdealing. You told me you’re a people-pleaser. Are you just telling me intimate things to make me feel comfortable?

You’re hot. It doesn’t always impact me but other times it does – painfully. The height, the face, the eyes, the hands, the smell, the graceful way of moving around, the dorkiness underlying it. Ouch! Sometimes affects me a lot and makes me gooey. Sometimes when you lean all over me on the table doing bodywork on me. I feel lust and then I feel gross and dirty for objectifying you like that. You’re just trying to do your job.

More weird. You were doing bodywork with your hands all in my hips and legs and neck and glutes. Meanwhile we were both talking about being molested and sex. GEEZ! Sometimes your hotness makes me feel hate towards you. I have let hot men manipulate me sometimes and make me feel awful and rejected other times.

Other times you make me sad because you are awesome and so broken. I want to nurture and mommy you.

A different level is that we have things in common. I wish we could have a friendship. Like dudes. Like a bro-mance. I like to do that with hot men too – act like I am asexual and just one of the guys. Pretend I am so unattractive to men like you that I am sexless.

Meanwhile, I am supposed to be training. I feel a really complicated mix of excitement, anticipation, dread, and depression before, during, and after the appointments. This is an opportunity. I hide from men when I feel this complication. Now I have to face it. I pre-paid for three months of appointments for twice a week.

I have to take responsibility for the weirdness.

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I wish you’d care that I finally changed.

Being selfish, egoistic, violently wanting to get what you want doesn’t work at all. You have to be kind, loving and have a good intention. Accept yourself, love yourself and do the same to others. Especially to those who love you, because someone who loves you is one of the biggest gift in your life. You should be grateful, appreciate and accept that person and love him the way he is; you shouldn’t want change him. The only one we can change is ourselves. You should trust him and because he loves you, he doesn’t want anything bad for you – even though you don’t like everything he does.

A person who loves you and stays by your side is like a piece of gold, a much more better, bigger and valuable thing than all those stupid little selfish ego-tuning things like looking or not at someone more beautiful, talking more to someone else, or knowing what he might do when he is without you. The true reason for loving somebody is love itself – to love and being loved.

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you are the hardest person to get over and i hate this

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It’s not your fault but I can’t play. I know that I have my racket and agreed to meet and am pretending that I’m ready but I’m Not.

You have thrown a couple of balls in my court and I can’t lob them back. My racket is too heavy and I try to yell, I want to hit this back but I’m tied up. But I can’t even yell back. Its as is my mouth is stuffed with cotton.

I think you would be a challenge and that we could have fun but I am pretty sure we wouldn’t match each other well. I won’t win but neither will you.

Actually I can’t play anyone right now. I’m burnt out and twisted and not in any shape to be out there.

So I’m going to sit this one out. Or if I play it will be 40 – love and you will think you’ve won but you won’t. It will look like you’ve won but it won’t really be love. It will be close but not the real thing.

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You say: I can’t commit – I always find flaws in somebody.

I hear: The voice of my ex-boyfriend from six years ago who constantly picked at me.

You say: I want people to like me. I want them to like me so much I will even lie.

I hear: All the over-the-top things men have said to me so I wouldn’t walk away from them. Even though they didn’t mean them.

You say: It’s lonely to be a player. You can’t accept anybody for who they are. You can’t accept yourself.

I remember: The broken men I have tried to be with who hated themselves and took it out on me.

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Found out through the grapevine that you have a girlfriend.
I am so relieved it’s unbelievable.
Maybe now we can move forward.
I certainly wouldn’t contact you but I wouldn’t ignore you if you emailed me.
That’s gotta be a step in the right direction. Right?
Anyway, I hope she is everything I wasn’t for you and exactly what you wanted.
Superficially at least, I am sure that is true.
At least her boobs are big enough.

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