There’s a strapon in my dishwasher

I actually felt a swell of adrenaline, like a balloon floating up in my thoracic cavity, getting caught underneath my collarbones and consequently catching my breath, when I sat down to write today. it was a medium sized party balloon.

I’m not sure what to write today. My dreams, and yes I did have them, and yes I did take melatonin, were full of rich imagery, threaded together by a thin narrative.

It was dusk.

It was a quiet town, I’m pretty sure it was the town where I have been many times before, an offshoot of the caricature of the town where I live. However, it was not. I’ll let that go.

I walked up a side path beside the modest house, in the way that Victorian villages are. In the back, which would have been the main entrance, were glorious buildings with all the ornate architectural shingles, overhangs, roofs, dormers and doors that usually adorn Norther Victorian homes. The streets are for pedestrians, carriages slip off and circle into the back, and therefore the back entrance is actually the front.

I remember being utterly awestruck by the extravagance of these homes… and knowing that none of them were mine, and that they never would be.

I couldn’t afford them.

I doubt I could even afford to live there.

This is going to seem shallow, and it’s fine. Maybe that’s what I have to come to terms with about myself, at least for now. Or maybe I have to learn to see the utility in even these mundane things. I notice that for a while, I have continuously apologized (though I never specifically said sorry) for the shallow nature of my writing. It’s Spring… maybe I’m meant to lighten up a little bit.

I went on a date last night (I think, whatever) with a man who was interesting, but not in that way. However, I may have ruined it, because I was afraid to make eye contact (I wrote eye contract, and that’s interesting to me. I wonder what would happen if I kept all of my typos). I was afraid he would notice that one eye wasn’t seeing him (all he cared about obviously) I was afraid he would notice that there was something wrong with me. I can imagine that every time that I did look at him my expression was one of scrutinizing fear. I am sure he noticed the expression, but I don’t know if he noticed the eye. I’m not sure how I’m ever going to feel comfortable meeting people again.

Last year this time, everything was fine.

My boyfriend, now the most recent ex, and I had a very satisfying exhalation when I felt myself write that… a few minor cracks of tension release at the back of my neck and my head now leans comfortably forward. Deep breaths as I realize that my ex is no longer my ex, and healing is on it’s way even though there are still painful scabs on my heart that I am resisting to pick. My jaw is no longer clenched so tight, maybe my life will be ok.

My ex, the new one, always insisted on eye contact during sex. Of course, the minute I realized that I was going to be blind for longer than I thought (I initially thought forever but my fingers froze at for) I broke up with him. I came home after breaking down in the hospital bathroom, destroyed, unable to be comforted by my family, eventually found my way to my living room, and well after midnight, perhaps before 2am, I called him and told him that literally, I couldn’t see him anymore.

I really don’t care what he thinks about it. His knee jerk reaction was to ask me if I blamed him (I don’t but I do) as if there was any kind of emotion that he could possibly have that could match what I was going through in that moment. At that time I realized, not that I hadn’t known the entire time, that this was not a man that was worth a second thought from me. I don’t know what he thinks, and I don’t care. I never should have wasted my time with him.

Unfortunately, I kind of feel that way about the boy. And everyone, for that matter. Especially my ex, that scumbag. I want to peel my skin off at the thought that he ever touched me.

But suppose I feel that way about everyone? And of course, because I’m not a complete fucking psycho, my immediate next thought is – suppose they all feel that way about me? <=== the problem here is that I kind of don’t care.

All problems are interpersonal relationship problems.

I was going to say that my blindness is not an interpersonal relationship problem, but then, looking at this post, I guess it is. Although it’s not, I really miss the sparkle of iridescent surfaces, it’s not nearly as cool with one eye. I am so heartbroken over losing that that I can’t even except that I have. I will not believe this is permanent.

Whatever anyone might think or say about it, I just went on the dating app to see if there was anyone out there that actually was worth my time. So far, no. But last night I did meet an interesting man, although he was so fucking preoccupied with himself that I don’t think he noticed anything about me other than that I was interested in a building project he was working on. Which is cool, because that’s pretty much all that was going on.

I really have to learn to keep my tongue tied, especially if I’m going to be dating random people 3 times a week. Oh yeah, random man from a long time ago texted me and said he was horny, idk if I want to get back with him again. OMG, this is so shallow that I’m actually falling into acronyms.

What I really want are friends. I wrote an email to my “best friend” and she wrote back… but never called. I should go ahead and text my other friend. I’m really disappointed by that, my best friend… but it’s ok. It’s a hollow kind of sadness, a hole. Where there should be emotion, but the only emotion is actually disappointment over not having any.

The boy explained some of his college friends to me, I’m not sure how we got on the subject but it’s a fine subject to be on even though I think it annoyed him as everything always annoys him. Maybe his balls are twisted, I have heard of that happening to people. Apparently after corrective surgery personalities completely change. He could certainly use it, I wonder how to delicately approach the subject about his delicate balls. Why do I even fuck him. Anyway.

Is moral honesty more important than moral ambition? My ex did express moral ambition, but fell so pathetically far short every last single time. The boy is morally honest, and to a fault as at times I do wish he would try to do better.

And there it is. The actual meaning of all this today. I knew it was in there, and I’m actually proud of myself for teasing it out right now.

I want to text last night’s dude and tell him that I can’t stop thinking about his renovation project. I have absolutely zero physical attraction to him right now. I’m not sure why I added right now.

I think it’s hilariously cruel, not that I want to be, that I have brought all of my dates to my side dude’s place of employment. My life would be so much easier if I just learned to love him. Instead, I tried to end this post 3 sips early, just because I always hit a brick wall when I think of him. He’s the only person that I can text my point for the day that would understand what I mean, and think about a reasonable response. For me, and for himself. He’s the only person that ever found me actually useful in the actual way I wish I was. He really is everything I’ve been looking for, but maybe I’m just enjoying the search. I wish I could just love him. Fuck it, I just downed half a cup in a single gulp, I need to bail.

I wish I could, but I don’t think I can.

The previous sentence was previously a response to something else…

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