Mediocre Life Choices

So, it turned out I know how to ride the metaphorical bike that is doing the sex.

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The following entry is a brief recount of my date last night and the breaking of my over 700 day celibacy streak. It’s not going to be real graphic, but it’s gonna be kind of gross.

You’ve been warned.

So I’ve been talking to this guy via text for over a week. He’s nice, he’s funny, he doesn’t know what red eye gravy is, and while he’s overwhelmingly normal, he’s not a bad conversationalist. I was legit excited for our date. I got all prettied up and went out to meet him with high hopes of maybe finding a boyfriend person… like the fucking sap I am when no one is looking.

Let’s get one thing straight: He’d not a bad dude.

In person he’s still nice and funny; and while not as good in person, he’s still a decent conversationalist (I have no idea if that sentence was punctuated correctly and I’m too lazy to reword it). Everything was totally fine, until he went to the bathroom, came back and wanted to sit next to me instead of across from me. That was a red flag for me… needy red flag… Still, whatever. I invited him to go to an art show I was interested in, but it was a cash bar so we never made it there… Finding an ATM takes effort, and who the fuck carries cash anymore? As the night went on, though, I was bored of sitting in the bar. So we went back to his house.

We played a little Crash Bandicoot, and then put on Alien 3… and he kept wanting to cuddle. I know that it’s probably some daddy-issue related weirdness with me, but I just don’t really like cuddling. I thought maybe if I let him kiss me he’d stop trying so hard, but HIS MOUTH WAS ENORMOUS. Like, I also already know that I’m weird cuz I don’t really dig tongue in my mouth, but his mouth literally covered mine. My face was just wet. It wouldn’t have been if I was like, YAAAS GIMME DAT TONGUE, but I’m not that person, so I had a wet face. So I’m a lil grossed out about that, he still won’t stop trying to cuddle me into the sofa, so I just decided FUCK IT.

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So… the idea was get it done and get out. That’s worked in the past, and it doesn’t have an effect on whether I enjoy myself, it’s just a good bypass for cuddling… but that is not how this went down

I thought I’d had sex with a fat guy before… and after this experience, I had not, but I have now.

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FIRST OF ALL he was trying to be seductive, but he pinned me down to the sofa and the weight of his body hurt my lungs. Literally, I couldn’t breathe and his big ass mouth kept covering up my face, so I was real excited when he suggested the bedroom, but he continued to vaguely suffocate me between his enormous mouth and the weight of his body. But I’m a good person, and I’m a big girl, so I can overlook that, right?

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SECOND OF ALL, MOTHERFUCKERS, our bodies didn’t fit together. Have you ever tried to picture an atypical couple having sex? Like I had a friend who was under 5′ and like 120 soaking wet, and she was dating this 300 lb 6′ tall guy for a while, and I would wonder how they made that work… Well, not all bodies DO work. If this were the wild he’d be S.O.L. for mating with me, because his hips are wider than mine. So like, we managed a half-ass, very suffocative missionary for a while, but me on top was a bust, because I couldn’t get my legs around him and still have leverage to move, and doggie style didn’t work because his stomach got in the way. Fat men need to be very well hung to have sex easily,untitled.png I now know. The struggle for them is real.

TO FINISH THINGS OFF he’s a freaking bear. I got suffocated by a bear. I dunno that I’ve addressed this, but I have qualms with body hair. I try really hard not to, because to be honest I don’t really shave like 90% of the time, but my body hair is blonde, soft, and sparse. This guy’s body hair was none of those things… It was dark, coarse, and plentiful, and it just grossed me out a little. With everything else going on this was definitely the least of my problems and the easiest to overlook, but it was still a problem for me. I was so not into it.

BONUS NOTE It’s good to know that any guy will still blindly accept that I probably definitely totally for realsound like a hentai character when I’m having sex. (/s) I don’t, when I’m legit having fun, but I keep thinking as I get older someone will be like, you’re faking so hard right now, but they never do. Just blind acceptance all over the place.

TO BE CLEAR it wasn’t the worst date or sexual encounter I’ve ever had, but it falls very short of the best.

Here I was being so worried about my performance, I didn’t really consider someone else would have problems, or that would turn out like some terrible scene in a bad romantic comedy.

In conclusion, it was a mediocre life choice and not how I wanted to end my sexless streak. I shoulda waited to see if I could even deal with his touchy-feely nature, but I was in such a hurry to break my celibacy that I just jumped into it.

That’s also vaguely how I lost my virginity… overzealous and just wanting to get it over with more than anything.

I dunno that I’m still interested in the dude. He really wanted me to stay and cuddle and stuff, but I was real into going home… Gonna have to think real hard about this… Seems shitty to ditch someone because the sex isn’t good, but people do that, right?

I Forgot How to Ride a Bike (Also, Another Ex Got Married)

This week has sucked. Monday I had food poisoning. Tuesday I was just unable to focus. Wednesday I got my new crazy meds and they put me to sleep at work. All I can do is hope that it gets better from here… and it should… I have a good weekend planned, but then…

Woke up from a sex dream this morning, and I’ll spare you the raunchy details, but it gave me an idea. “Hey, I’ve got a date Saturday… and I’d like to get laid… maybe I could ask him if he’d like to go back to his place for dessert! YEA! INNUENDO!” That was immediately followed with meditating on the fact I’m pretty sure my generation has done away with the idea that sleeping with someone on the first date makes you a ho and——–“OMG I HAVEN’T HAD SEX SINCE SUMMER 2015… Do I even remember how to have sex?!”

So yeah. That’s real facts right there… I have no idea if I remember how to have sex. That’s a terrifying thought at 28. On the bright side, from this guy’s profile, he might not care. He’s really nice, too, so that’s helpful.

I feel like maybe a couple dates in I could probably be like, “Hey, so here’s my situation, but I’d like to bang you?” but my plan to be all spontaneous and shit might not be the best course of action, since I’d prolly have a panic attack and ruin everything.

My friends have attempted to reassure me… One just said sex isn’t that hard to do and it’ll come back to me… The other said it’s like riding a bike… Here’s the thing… Last time I tried to ride a bike, I realized I’ve forgotten how to ride a bike.

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The bike is obviously a metaphor… I just… I’m not really comfortable with the whole idea of having to tell someone that. So don’t tell them. Okay, brain, but if I don’t tell them and I’m terrible in bed they’re gonna think I just go around being a bad lay, and I have been a lot of things in my life, but I haven’t been a bad lay since I was 14.

I’m sure honesty is the best policy, but it gives me wicked anxiety… cuz then they’re gonna ask why.

So why haven’t I had sex for so long? Well… to be honest I dunno.

I could say it was because the last time was so awful. If you didn’t read that entry, I SCARED THE LITERAL FUCK OUT OF A GUY who also turned out to be homeless. Who knew? I met him at a poly party. Those people aren’t usually homeless or easily scared.

I could say it’s because I’m asexual, which I still maintain is true, but it’s not why. For me sex is like going Elitches… sounds fun, but I’m gonna complain about getting hot and sweaty and being tired, and then if you can get me there I’ll never want to leave… cuz it’s fun.

I could say I’ve been celibate… I could say a lot of things, but at the end of the day I just haven’t been sexually attracted to anyone. Actually it’s not even that, it’s that I’ve been actually sexually repelled from people since then. I’m not picky about things like looks 9/10 times someone wants to get down or ask me on a date… but for the past two years I just haven’t been interested, and people expressing interest in me actually made me revolted.

I dunno what’s different now, but that guy I’m seeing Saturday just texted me good morning and I legit involuntarily smiled… FUCK. I don’t have time to have legit interest in someone… sigh… Still… I like that he texted. Lol.

IN OTHER NEWS! Vaunder got married. I don’t know that I’ve touched on Vaun a whole lot. He was an ex from when I was 17-18. He was an introverted gamer with a crazy family.

I had a good two years with him, and part of me thought we’d end up married, but the rest of me was in Manic Depressive hell, on trial and error drugs trying to stabilize my mood, suffering from Bulimia, and binge drinking so much I can’t even tell you who I slept with since Vaun didn’t come out with me.

I liked Vaun. He was a sweet guy that definitely deserved better. Now it looks like he has, and I’m super stoked for him, even though we haven’t spoken in like ten years. Lol. I went out and stalked him and found out they got married at Ren Fest last weekend (which I was also at…) I went snooping to get a picture, and here it is.

For the record he didn’t look like this when we dated 10 years ago. Lol. All my mom could say was, “that could’ve been you.” Honestly, I’m glad it’s not… we weren’t real compatible outside of a good sex life. Still, I’m glad he found someone. He deserved better than me, and it seems he found a really good one. So I hope they live happily ever after, just like the picture implies.

Lying to Mental Healthcare Professionals

Friday sucked. Actually the whole week sucked. I started the week with weird dreams. That progressed into NO SLEEP Tuesday and Wednesday night. I had to take a literal mental health day on Thursday because I was losing it, and on top of not sleeping I’d spent all week trying to cleanup a schedule that should have been clean. It was genuinely frustrating.

I spend Thursday in bed, and then when the house got too hot to sleep I went to buy shit to make cookies. I don’t bake, but I wanted to make cookies. I made four batches total, two of which were totally inedible because they were overwhelmingly gross and salty, one was fine but dry, and one was legit good. I was kind of listless. I don’t know why I wanted to make cookies. I didn’t want to eat them; I had two cookies from the okay batches and gave the rest to mothership. I just liked making them. I can’t really tell you why.

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I’d been suffering through the side effects of my Abilify. The worst were the hot flashes. I would get REALLY hot, which I’m always kind of hot anyways, and then dizzy and nauseous, and it was just flat out sucked. I’m 28; I didn’t need to get a preview of menopause. So Friday night I debated taking my pill because I was going out. I ended up taking it, because I’m responsible, but I then ended up sweating to the point my friend was concerned for my health and took me home. Let’s not mention that I spent two hours picking an outfit and trying to look cute, or how my makeup melted off my face, or how when I got home I was so disappointed that I cried and went straight to bed.

I emailed my pdoc the next morning, but because it’s Kaiser, she didn’t get back to me till today. In the time between the two events I’ve quit cold turkey… but I didn’t tell her that. It was on accident, really, because Saturday night I went to David’s for an anime night, and forgot to take it before I left. I wasn’t about to take it the next morning… I have played that game and it was too terrible. So, I forgot. Then Sunday was such a good day for me, I just decided not to take it anymore. My pdoc doesn’t know that… I told her I wouldn’t tamper with my meds until I heard from her, but…. I’m tampering.

Saturday was a nice day, though. Mom and I started by taking the dogs to the vet. I was still visibly sad about the night before, but I tried to be in a good mood. The chihuahuas, Bdo & Guy, did great, except that Guy is overweight. Afterwards we took some time apart, and then went to get mani-pedis. It was nice. I got a weird beetle green. And to wrap up mom-time we went to a seafood place and got fried seafood plates.

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That evening I went to D2’s for an anime night. I subjected him to Paprika and Metropolis while we ate $60 worth of sushi (because stoners and fat kids like sushi). It was a lot of fun. We’re having a follow up night on Friday to watch Howl’s Moving Castle and Wizards, which isn’t really anime, but I consider it honorary anime. Bird was supposed to come, but I guess she got wrapped up with other things that feel through, and she essentially slept through it all.

Sunday morning I got up, dressed like a Time Lord and went to the Renaissance Festival with my mom. We stopped at a hat shop, and I finished off my Time Lady look with a nice hat and a flower-tie thing. I wanna make those now… I need to hit Goodwill. And figure out where to buy a sewing kit… We had a lovely day at RenFest and walked until we both thought we were gonna drop.

On the way home we hit the grocery, and I spent the rest of the day not standing.

It turned into a good weekend… but it’s been a trial… not gonna lie.

Fucked Up Dream Time

So, at 3am I posted another entry about how my meds are going and how this med is definitely doing weird stuff to my dreams. Then I went back to sleep… and now I want to tell you about my disturbing ass dreams, and why I hate taking antipsychotics.

Last time I took antipsychotics, Risperdol gave me horrifying nightmares that I can’t even remember. I would just wake up screaming. This time, I don’t know if these are nightmares, but they are… unsettling at best.

I’m in a school, but it’s built like a lodge in the mountains. We are surrounded by trees and a cable car runs from a platform on our second floor. There are other, similar buildings in the area, and we are all part of the same school I know this, but it’s not said. There are people there. Some are teen aged, some are college aged, and there is a smattering of actual adults. I am one of these adults, and we seem to be in charge.



There is a siren, and I rush everyone inside. “The hole is coming,” I say. It’s not as catchy as “The Nothing” or “The Darkness” or even “The Mist / Fog” but I get everyone inside and I’m aware that I’m scared. There are more people in our building than seem to lodge there, and so I clear a space to setup sleeping bags and start dismantling furniture into firewood. I seem to know that it’s going to be a long time before things will ever be normal again.



Enter, the random apparition of my exboyfriend invading my dreamscape. This particular ex is the one that I can never forgive. The one that I blame for many of my personality changes from “sweet, nice girl” to… whatever you call this cynical, sarcastic shell of a human being. I don’t know why he’s there, not even in the dream, and I still hate him when he gives me that smile that I remember adoring. I’m stuck with him, though. That much is clear.



So, I make the best of having someone I know around. He’s still himself, though, and while I’m trying to put all the sharp objects in the house where no one can get to them, he’s hoarding them by his sleeping bag. I have to explain to him what’s going on… which is handy since I don’t actually know until dream-me says it.



“What’s coming is the hole, and when it gets here everyone is going to lose themselves.” I’m gathering up a number of knives with my bare hands, managing to cut myself on an obsidian blade that he has for some reason. “The hole takes away feeling. There’s nothing. People don’t become depressed, they just feel nothing. They’ll kill themselves, and god knows what else they might do.” He’s rolling his eyes, and dream-me thinks he must assume that what’s coming is just a storm. I look him in the eyes and say, “What would you do to feel something, Mike?” He stops rolling his eyes, and he looks almost concerned. Almost. He lets me take the knives anyways, and I hide them in a wall, in a closet, somewhere in the bowels of the lodge.



Time goes on. It’s like a montage. I’m aware of the passage of time and glimpses into things that happened. It began to snow, and never stopped, though it’s not snowing particularly heavily. We ran out of food and had to start sending parties out into the snow to try and find animals or vegetation; they would come back a little less of themselves every time. For whatever reason I cannot begin to understand, I start sleeping next to my ex. I might hate him, but I guess in this weird time he makes me feel safe. Then one day he goes out on a foraging mission, and never comes back. Slowly less and less people come back from foraging, until it’s just me and a handful of students left. We never find the bodies.



We are out on a mission, having followed the cables from the inactive cable car up to a station. We are cresting a tall climb to the platform when we hear people. Some of the party get excited and run toward the noise, while I try to hold people back. The hole has come and it will have its sacrifices. Those at the top of the hill stop suddenly… some backup, some don’t move at all. When I reach the summit I can see why. There are people: people I know: people from our party; and they are laughing. Their laughter is hollow, like the laughter one produces when they are expected to laugh, but nothing is funny. Then the laughter turns to sobs, but those, too, sound wrong in every way. There’s no heart in it. They are stripping the skin off of one of my students, who’s hanging from the overhead cable.



I backup slowly, shock filling me with cold, and I slip. I tumble down the platform, the sound of my body hitting the rocky terrain alerting those skinning the student. They come after me. There’s a small chase before I lose them. I am alone. I don’t know where everyone else went, so I return to the lodge. No one is there. It’s empty and cold, and I’m terrified. I go to sleep in the middle of the sleeping bags. I cry.



I jump awake at the sudden feeling of someone breathing on my feet. It’s a man. I recognize his face, but it’s been painted black and I cannot place him. Only his white eyes and teeth are visible to me in the darkness. He’s grinning at me, but it’s not a real grin, for there is no mirth in it, not even the cruel joy of a killer. It’s just been stuck there on his face, like someone taped it there. I inch away from his dead, wide eyes, and to my surprise he does not follow me. He just stays, staring at me with his teeth bared, almost into a snarl. His eyes follow me, but he does not move, and I manage to escape the room.



I can hear people in the house. I am scared. I don’t know what to do.



I end up in the closet where I’ve hidden the knives, but there’s only one there and I grab it by the blade. It’s a black knife… it’s an obsidian hunting knife. I cut myself pretty bad, and stifle a yelp of pain. I have to get out of the closet, I know that, but there’s nowhere to go. I end up leaving the closet and having to hide myself in a window box that someone has been using for a bed. I jam the knife into the wood at an angle that I don’t think would work in real life, but manages to keep the lid closed in the dream. No one finds me, but I also don’t have a way out. Day after day I listen to frightened screams, false laughter, and faux tears. I try to leave my hiding place, but I can’t get the lid open, even after I pull the knife out. I don’t get any omniscient insight as to why. I just get a montage of days, as I lie awake in the box, crying, scared, and slowly dying of thirst and hunger.

The dream ends with my shriveled up corpse laying in the box. My face is contorted into an unnatural scream, but I know that’s probably just because of the way I was laying when I died. All I thought was, “wow, I look so thin.”



Antipsychotic dreams are… well… psychotic. I hate antipsychotic dreams because while they are often outlandish and unrealistic, they always hint at things you’re actually thinking about. It’s like the subroutine your brain runs all the time never shuts off like it used to, and those thoughts you don’t really remember thinking just invade your dreams like it’s Normandy. This one hits especially close to home, since whatever was happening stripped everyone of emotions. Obviously they retained something, though, since they continuously tried to feel something. Longing… is longing an emotion?

I have been struggling with my new and ever shrinking emotional range. While I was used to feeling all of three emotions, I felt those emotions much strong than I feel any of these new, wider ranging ones. I felt Euphoria, Rage, and Despair with all the bitter, painful fire of passion. I felt them to my core. Now I feel… less. I’m not despairing, but sometimes I’m sad, or just not happy. I don’t rage, but sometimes I’m mad or a little irritated. I don’t get lost in the intense feelings of euphoria, but sometimes I smile… so I guess that’s happiness? It’s a hard transition that only people with a mood disorder really “get.” How do you explain to yourself that feeling less is how you’re supposed to feel? While the emotions might be more complex, like ambivalence is a new one I’ve been feeling a lot, the feelings are so much less. There’s no passion behind them… it’s so muted… like a Giorgio Morandi still life…

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the other things that REALLY bothered me, was that exboyfriend. Why, of all the exes I have, did it have to be that one? And then he goes off and gets killed or something and I’m all alone and I MISS HIM. That’s fucked up, brain…. I know we’re lonely, but we aren’t THAT lonely.

Anyways, I’ve been dealing with the psychological aftermath of THAT all morning… It’s not a great way to wake up… but I definitely didn’t want to continue sleeping…

Side Effects

It’s 3am and I’m awake for two reasons… 1, I had to Pee but 2, Abilify fucks with your dreams.

The weekend was weird for me and side effects. 

Friday night I went to karaoke. Does Abilify interact with alcohol? Absolutely, but not like I thought it would. Usually you end up being a lightweight and acting a fool when you try to drink on new drugs. This was not the case, I was just very social. Literally, I didn’t feel drunk at all….  until I was driving home and became aware VERY QUICKLYt that my reaction time was WAY slow… I made it home okay, since the bar was close to home, but in the future if I plan on drinking, it’s worth taking a Lyft. 
Also, as an aside, David2, Bird, and I got invited to an orgy before we left the bar. That’s fun. We all fled… stranger orgies are bad.

Saturday I thought I was dying. In retrospect, a few things probably contributed to this. A, I drank the night before. I didn’t have a hangover the next day, but I’m definitely considering that drinking might elicit more side effects than I previously thought it would. 2, I didn’t take my pill at night. I missed it because I was too busy trying to go out, so I took it in the morning. There is something to be said for what you sleep through when you take meds at night. D, I panicked. Panic always just makes shit worse.

So I go to see War for the Planet of the Apes with Mothership, and I can barely eat. I’ve developed this thing where I am full most of the time, but I get hungry more often. That’s not a listed side effect but it’s a new thing. Then, I get a heart palpitations. That’s a listed side effect, but it’s a terrifying one. I hate that feeling, and when it got coupled with a hot flash and intestinal distress, it’s a spooky side effect that made me think I was potentially having a heart attack. I got dizzy, and upset, and mom ended up having to drive us home.

Mom baffles me. As long as I can remember, if I’m feeling bad, she is meh about it. When I had a kidney stone that sent me to the ER, she took her time getting ready to take me to the ER. She was more concerned about whether I smelled like Jager than the crippling pain I was in. Likewise, when I told her I thought I might be having a heart attack because my heart was racing so bad, she just asked why. To which I quiteangrily said, BECAUSE MY HEART IS RACING AND EVERYTHING IS BAD. I love my mother, and sometimes her eerie calm is handy, like when I had gallstones and was so panicked and pained that all I could do was walk clockwise in a circle and writhe, but in general, her tendency to act unfeeling is unsettling, at best. I’ve begun to wonder if she’s really JUST depressed, or if she, like dad and I, has a mood or personality disorder. She could be histrionic… 

Anyways, she got me home and I spent the rest of the day trying to cool off and recover. That meant I was up late, though, so I filled the time with FFXV again. I also started War of the Worlds before bed. Being able to read again is nice.

Sunday was better. I was up early and got in some gaming time. Mostly I just hung out, but I’m real task oriented. I like to DO things that I was previously unable to do. I got some drawing in, and only suffered one hot flash. I went to mom’s and we watched two episodes of Twin Peaks, and ordered pizza. Before bed I also finished the 15th Oz book. There are 25 of them, but I am stopping here, because that’s how far my collection goes. It was an ok day.

But the dreams. I had been really concerned about the dreams, anyways, because when I was on Risperdol I had awful nightmares, but I’m not having nightmares. My dreams are just real involved. It’s like my cognitive processes don’t shut down at all when I sleep now, so it just runs scenarios over and over, trying to determine the best outcome. I’ve quit my job seven times tonight in my dreams. None end well.

Well, it’s 4am now, and I wanna catch my last hour of sleep. But yeah, I’m not sure what to make of Abilify. I contacted my doc to see what she thinks, but again, she’s a Kaiser doc! And I really don’t think she cares if I die or get better.