PHENOMENAL WOMAN
by Maya Angelou

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Equality

By Maya Angelou

You declare you see me dimly
through a glass which will not shine,
though I stand before you boldly,
trim in rank and making time.
You do own to hear me faintly
as a whisper out of range,
while my drums beat out the message
and the rhythms never change.
Equality, and I will be free.
Equality, and I will be free.

You announce my ways are wanton,
that I fly from man to man,
but if I'm just a shadow to you,
could you ever understand?
We have lived a painful history,
we know the shameful past,
but I keep on marching forward,
and you keep on coming last.
Equality, and I will be free.
Equality, and I will be free.

Take the blinders from your vision,
take the padding from your ears,
and confess you've heard me crying,
and admit you've seen my tears.
Hear the tempo so compelling,
hear the blood throb through my veins.
Yes, my drums are beating nightly,
and the rhythms never change.
Equality, and I will be free.
Equality, and I will be free.

Our Grandmothers
by Maya Angelou

She lay, skin down in the moist dirt,
the canebrake rustling
with the whispers of leaves, and
loud longing of hounds and
the ransack of hunters crackling the near
branches.

She muttered, lifting her head a nod toward
freedom,
I shall not, I shall not be moved.

She gathered her babies,
their tears slick as oil on black faces,
their young eyes canvassing mornings of madness.
Momma, is Master going to sell you
from us tomorrow?

Yes.
Unless you keep walking more
and talking less.
Yes.
Unless the keeper of our lives
releases me from all commandments.
Yes.
And your lives,
never mine to live,
will be executed upon the killing floor of
innocents.
Unless you match my heart and words,
saying with me,

I shall not be moved.

In Virginia tobacco fields,
leaning into the curve
of Steinway
pianos, along Arkansas roads,
in the red hills of Georgia,
into the palms of her chained hands, she
cried against calamity,
You have tried to destroy me
and though I perish daily,

I shall not be moved.

Her universe, often
summarized into one black body
falling finally from the tree to her feet,
made her cry each time into a new voice.
All my past hastens to defeat,
and strangers claim the glory of my love,
Iniquity has bound me to his bed.

yet, I must not be moved.

She heard the names,
swirling ribbons in the wind of history:
nigger, nigger bitch, heifer,
mammy, property, creature, ape, baboon,
whore, hot tail, thing, it.
She said, But my description cannot
fit your tongue, for
I have a certain way of being in this world,

and I shall not, I shall not be moved.

No angel stretched protecting wings
above the heads of her children,
fluttering and urging the winds of reason
into the confusions of their lives.
The sprouted like young weeds,
but she could not shield their growth
from the grinding blades of ignorance, nor
shape them into symbolic topiaries.
She sent them away,
underground, overland, in coaches and
shoeless.

When you learn, teach.
When you get, give.
As for me,

I shall not be moved.

She stood in midocean, seeking dry land.
She searched God's face.
Assured,
she placed her fire of service
on the altar, and though
clothed in the finery of faith,
when she appeared at the temple door,
no sign welcomed
Black Grandmother, Enter here.

Into the crashing sound,
into wickedness, she cried,
No one, no, nor no one million
ones dare deny me God, I go forth
along, and stand as ten thousand.

The Divine upon my right
impels me to pull forever
at the latch on Freedom's gate.

The Holy Spirit upon my left leads my
feet without ceasing into the camp of the
righteous and into the tents of the free.

These momma faces, lemon-yellow, plum-
purple,
honey-brown, have grimaced and twisted
down a pyramid for years.
She is Sheba the Sojourner,
Harriet and Zora,
Mary Bethune and Angela,
Annie to Zenobia.

She stands
before the abortion clinic,
confounded by the lack of choices.
In the Welfare line,
reduced to the pity of handouts.
Ordained in the pulpit, shielded
by the mysteries.
In the operating room,
husbanding life.
In the choir loft,
holding God in her throat.
On lonely street corners,
hawking her body.
In the classroom, loving the
children to understanding.

Centered on the world's stage,
she sings to her loves and beloveds,
to her foes and detractors:
However I am perceived and deceived,
however my ignorance and conceits,
lay aside your fears that I will be undone,

for I shall not be moved.

This is for the mothers........

This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, "It's okay honey, Mommy's here."

Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can't be comforted.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON'T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they'll never see.

And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.

And for all the mothers who froze their buns on metal bleachers at football or soccer games instead of watching from the warmth of their cars, so that when their kids asked, "Did you see me, Mom?" they could say, "Of course, I wouldn't have missed it for the world," and mean it.

This is for all the mothers who yell at their kids in the grocery store and swat them in despair when they stomp their feet and scream for ice cream before dinner. And for all the mothers who count to ten instead.

This is for all the mothers who sat down with their children and explained all about making babies. And for all the (grand)mothers who wanted to, but just couldn't find the words.

This is for all the mothers who go hungry, so their children can eat.

For all the mothers who read "Goodnight, Moon" twice a night for a year.

And then read it again. "Just one more time."

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to tie their shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who opted for Velcro instead.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their daughters to sink a jump shot.

This is for every mother whose head turns automatically when a little voice calls "Mom?" in a crowd, even though they know their own offspring are at home -- or even away at college.

This is for all the mothers who sent their kids to school with stomach aches assuring them they'd be just FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for mothers who put pinwheels and Teddy bears on their children's graves.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can't find the words to reach them.

This is for all the step-mothers who raised another woman's child or children, and gave their time, attention, and love... sometimes totally unappreciated!

For all the mothers who bite their lips until they bleed when their 14 year olds dye their hair green.

For all the mothers of the victims of recent school shootings, and the mothers of those who did the shooting.

For the mothers of the survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror, hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

This is for all the mothers who taught their children to be peaceful, and now pray they come home safely from a war.

What makes a good Mother anyway?

Is it patience?

Compassion?

Broad hips?

The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on a shirt, all at the same time?

Or is it in her heart?

Is it the ache you feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street, walking to school alone for the very first time?

The jolt that takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 A.M. to put your hand on the back of a sleeping baby?

The panic, years later, that comes again at 2 A.M. when you just want to hear their key in the door and know they are safe again in your home?

Or the need to flee from wherever you are and hug your child when you hear news of a fire, a car accident, a child dying?

The emotions of motherhood are universal and so our thoughts are for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and sleep deprivation...

And mature mothers learning to let go.

For working mothers and stay-at-home mothers.

Single mothers and married mothers.

Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all.

For all of us.

Hang in there.

In the end we can only do the best we can.

Tell them every day that we love them.

And pray.

"Home is what catches you when you fall - and we all fall."

Stand Up and Fight With Me

I am a mother.

I am a daughter.

I am a sister.

I am a friend.

I am a great listener.

I am a terrible singer.

I am an animal lover.

I am an awful dancer.

I am a woman with a bright future and an interesting past.

I work.

I shop.

I pay taxes.

I drive.

I vote.

I respect my elders.

I love.

I am in love.

In a world of disposable spouses and conditional love I fight, everyday, for what I feel.

I fight fear.

I fight prejudice.

I fight injustice.

I fight hatred.

I fight ignorance.

I fight because I have to.

I will continue to fight.

I will fight for who I am and who I love.

A love worth fighting for is never wrong.

Your third wife may not believe that, but I do.

While you're trading up, I'm holding on.

I will not bow out gracefully.

I will not admit defeat.

I am the girl next door.

I am the woman behind the counter.

I am the woman on the street or in the elevator.

If we met, you might say "What a sweet young woman."

If I didn't tell you, you'd never know.

I am a lesbian.

I have a name and a face and a life.

I have hopes and dreams and plans.

I have a love you cannot even fathom.

You have taken away my rights by you will not damage my spirit.

You will see me.

You will know me.

You will learn from me.

You will respect my strength.

You will envy my commitment.

You will not think I am sweet again.

We're not done here, people. The worst thing we can do now is give up. Stay strong. Stand up and fight with me.

Butt Prints In The Sand

One night I had a wondrous dream,

One set of footprints there was seen,

The footprints of the Goddess they were,

But mine were not along the shore.

But then some stranger prints appeared,

And I asked Her, “What have we here?

These prints are large and round and neat,

But much too big to be from feet.”

“My child,” She said in somber tones,

“For miles I carried you alone.

I challenged you to walk in faith,

But you refused and made me wait.”

“You would not learn, you would not grow,

The walk of faith you would not know,

So I got challenged, I got fed up,

And there I dropped you on your butt.”

“Because in life, there comes a time,

When one must fight, and one must climb,

When one must rise and take a stand,

Or leave their butt prints in the sand.”

I asked the Goddess…..

I asked the Goddess for all things that I might enjoy life.
She said, “No.
I gave you life so you might enjoy all things.”

I asked the Goddess to give me happiness.
She said, “No.
I give you blessings. Happiness is up to you.”

I asked the Goddess to grant me patience.
She said, “No.
Patience is a byproduct of tribulations; it isn’t granted, it is earned.”

I asked the Goddess to spare me suffering.
She said, “No
Suffering draws you apart from worldly cares and brings you closer to Me.”

I asked the Goddess to take away my pain.
She said, “No.
It is not for Me to take away, but for you to give it up.”

I asked the Goddess to make my handicapped child whole.
She said, “ No.
Her spirit was always whole, her body was only temporary.”

I asked the Goddess to make my spirit grow.
She said, “No.
You must grow on your own, but I will prune you to make you fruitful.”

I asked the Goddess to help me LOVE others, as much as she loves me.
She said……..
Aaahhh, finally you have the idea.

Goddess, Are You Real?

The little child whispered, “Goddess, speak to me.”

And a meadowlark sang.

But the child did not hear.

So the child yelled, “Goddess, speak to me!”

And the thunder rolled across the sky.

But the child did not listen.

The child looked around and said, “Goddess, let me see you.”

And a star shone brightly.

But the child did not notice.

And the child shouted, “Goddess show me a miracle!”

And a life was born.

But the child did not know.

So the child cried out in despair, “Touch me Goddess,

And let me know you are here!”

Whereupon the Goddess reached down and touched the child.

But the child brushed the butterfly away,

And walked away unknowingly.

Our Deepest Fear

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear
is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness,
that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented and fabulous?
Actually who are we not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small doesn't serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking
so that other people
won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine as children do.
We were born to make manifest
the glory of God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.
And when we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,
our presence automatically liberates others.

- Marianne Williamson

The Invitation

By: Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shrivelled and closed from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it, or fade it, or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to
be careful, be realistic, remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can
disappoint another to be true to yourself. If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul. If you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty even when it is not pretty every day. And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand at the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, 'Yes.'

It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the centre of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

I Am Becoming

by Jayne Relaford Brown

I am becoming
the woman I’ve wanted,
grey at the temples,
soft body, delighted,
cracked up by life
with a laugh that’s
known bitter
but, past it, got better,
knows she’s a survivor­
that whatever comes,
she can outlast it.
I am becoming a deep
weathered basket.

I am becoming the woman
I’ve longed for,
the motherly lover
with arms strong and tender,
the growing up daughter
who blushes surprises.
I am becoming full moons
and sunrises.
I find her becoming,
this woman I’ve wanted,
who knows she’ll encompass,
who knows she’s sufficient,
knows where she’s going
and travels with passion.
Who remembers she’s precious,
but knows she’s not scarce­
who knows she is plenty,
plenty to share.

Forgive me dedicated blog readers it has been-well-a long time since my last post......
My life has changed since then-in a very real and concrete way.
In some ways it is better, in some ways it is worse-either way such is life. I am not ready to talk about that change on here so instead I am going to focus on dating......
I started this year off dating B. B was not my type at all, but was very good looking and simple and probably the closest I have ever come to dating a "thug". He was also a stoner and a loser who lived with his mom. He was the largest man I was ever intimate with and it was really nice. I am usually the same height-if not taller-than the men I date. I never realized how feminine I would feel with a larger man. He was also the dumbest man I ever dated-that was rough. He was a real game player and it got old fast. However, he was the first man I had slept with in a very long time and I think my dating confidence was lacking because of it. So, I guess I can say that he got me back interested in the dating "game".
After B-this summer-I put an ad on a free dating site.
In the spring, after B-I had an epiphany-that I would be happier if I had an adult relationship-it would make the other hum drum aspects of my life more acceptable. I wanted someone that was invested in my life and who's life I could invest in as well. I also decided that I wanted to be married by the time I was 35. Not sure why 35 seemed like the right age, but it did at the time. As I was already 33.5, I only had 1.5 years to meet, fall in love with and marry the man of my dreams. What WAS I thinking? I was thinking that it seemed so easy for everyone around me. What was it that I lacked that kept me from being successful in a long term relationship? I am 33 and the longest adult relationship I have ever had lasted just under 3 years. I always said that I met the wrong men or picked the wrong men or there were no single men out there, etc. Whatever the case may be, whatever my underlying issues, I wanted this elusive "couple" status that everyone around me seemed to be able to manage with such ease-even through break ups and divorces, they all met someone else, only I remained single. I knew of women less attractive, less intelligent and with a lot less to offer living with/married to decent guys-so I had to be doing something wrong. So, I decided to get back out there and keep trying until I got it right!
I started talking to lots of men who all said I was beautiful-lol! I had the usual online dating site experience-lots of email exchanges, even some phone calls, but nothing that went anywhere. The first guy I actually met in person was J. J was a few years younger than me and reminded me of a puppy-eager but friendly. He was also, as it turned out not without some rather hefty baggage himself. I have discovered that emotionally crippled men flock to me. Anyway, J was sweet and attentive and we had a few dates. He had self esteem issues, but I figured it must be difficult to hit on women-even online-and that as we dated he would feel less nervous. I did not feel nervous about him at all. He was pushing me for sex from the first date and I was holding him. I was not ready to be that intimate with him-his kisses were too slobbery, it just was too soon. Well, after about a month I decided ok, tonight's the night. Everything was going ok-he was somewhat over-eager, slightly rough and not that open to listening to what I liked. However, his true gifts were his oral skills-wow! He had told me he had a small penis and he did. Actually, I would have said under-developed. Usually a man that lacks length makes up for it with width, sadly that was not the case with J and was not doubt why his oral skills were so on point. Anyway, as it gets to be time to go further he freaks out. I mean he literally sits up in bed, covers his face and starts shrieking, "I can't do this, it's not going to work, etc, etc." I have to admit that I was shocked and somewhat disgusted. However, I tried to be nice, told him it was no big deal, went down on him told him it was probably just performance anxiety, etc, etc, etc. What I really wanted was for him to leave right then, but he stayed and seemed to calm down. The next day we spent the whole day together and I was thinking that he might be worth the sex issues. After all, I do like to explore sexually and he was attentive and I really, really, really wanted a boyfriend! Anyway, he would not return my calls for a week. We had agreed previous to the sex to stop dating others and I had modified my ad appropriately. Well, I am trying to work with him-thinking he just felt embarassed. I guess that a woman had never tried to work with him before because he became very different. He got snippy and we started arguing alot. I would tell him to leave me alone, than he would apologize and say how mortified he was about the almost sex and how he had low self-esteem because he was fat and ugly, etc, etc, etc. The long and short of it is I tried to work with him about 3 weeks? I never saw him again after the one sad almost sexual encounter. He would beg me to give him another chance, we would make arrangements to see eachother-then he would say he had to work, or was sick or was too tired, etc etc. Finally enough, was enough and I stopped even engaging in conversation with him. He seemed to feel like I was so "into" him that he could treat me like girls had always treated him. Poor fool, tricks are for kids. Once I realized that he was just using me to boost his self-esteem issues, I told him how I really felt about him. I figured that would be the last I heard from him, but nope, he continues to text me even to this day.
The weekend after I decided enough was enough with J, I met C. C was an older man-56-who was single-never married, no kids, lived in canada and was just so sweet and nice. We exchanged emails for weeks before I met him. In a first for me, I actually went to him, rather than having him come to me. Mostly because he had a boat and I thought it would be fun to go out on the boat. It was. He was a perfect gentleman and I have to say I have never had a better first date. His house was nice and neat, his boat was small but fun and instead of going out to dinner we ordered a pizza and went back out on the boat to watch the sun set. It was amazing. I think I fell in like with him right then and there. He did not seem to like me that much, he was perfect gentlemen but seemed distant. I sent him an email to that effect and he said nothing was further from the truth he just did not want to scare me since I had come to his house. We got together every weekend after that for a wonderful time on his boat. I really liked him. He was quiet, laid back, seemed sure of himself and was very attracted to me. I felt beautiful and wanted and safe with him. However, I knew in the little niggling part of my brain that he was 56 and never married because he had either committment or intimacy issues or both. Well, I think our 5th week I tried to get him to come to my side of the border since the weather was supposed to be too bad to go out on the boat. He did not want to. I called him on it. I said that my ad was very specific about what I was looking for and how were we going to have a relationship if it always depended on me coming to him? I had to find someone to keep my kid and someone to come and walk the dog. He had only himself. He sent me a long email about how he could not give me what I wanted, he had thought he could but now relaized he could not. He said that the age difference came into play-he just wanted to go home after work and chill, not cross the border, etc. I called him on his bullshit. It was not his age or not wanting to cross the border-as he saw multiple baseball games this side of the border and I am only maybe 20 mins away from there. Surely I am worth a baseball game? No, the real issue was that he was afraid or insecure or whatever. It had nothing to do with age or distance-after all he hit on me and charmed me into dating someone only 3 years younger than my father. I should have known better, like I said, he was not 56 and single for no reason. However, it hurt, it hurt my feelings alot. I liked him and really enjoyed spending time with him. I was sorry to see him go but unwilling to settle for what he could give me. I was also kinda pissed at him for wasting my time.
The weekend after my last weekend with C, I met another canadian-M. M reminds me quite abit of Thomas-only less annoying. he was a "geek" and we liked alot of the same shows and movies. He was also very recently separated. In fact, on our first date he had on his wedding ring-it was on his right instead of left hand but it was still weird. Anyway, we met at a bookstore in downtown RO talked for along time and then went to lunch. After lunch I surprised myself by inviting him back to the house. Br came over and she, I, A and M all watched movies and ordered pizza. He gave me a hug when he left but that was about all. I think I heard from him everyday after that-both by phone and by email. He was coming over several times a week-almost every other day. I was kind of annoyed with him. I was also on guard because he was so recently separated from his wife-60 days. He said that they had decided to split 18 months ago but had to live together until the house sold because niether of them had the money to get their own place and pay half of the bills for the house. I believe him, but I still felt he was rebounding with me and I was trying to be on guard. We were really more friends than anything else. I was ok with that until one night he took it further. I never even tried penetration with C-we just fooled around doing everything but. I had planned on that with M but he seemed to really want penetration. I was ok with it, but he was unable to maintain an erection. Just my luck, huh? Anyway, he admitted that night that he had the same problem with his wife, that he had a low sex drive-only was horny maybe 2 times a month-and that he thought it was just his wife and would be different with me. After that night, even when he stayed over I was careful not to allow intimacy beyond kissing. For many reasons-the main one being I did not think he was over his wife and I somehow thought not allowing sex play would protect my feelings. Sadly that was not the case either. I finally did let him know I felt and we talked about it. He said that he had always had a difficult time maintaining an erection-ever since he had started having sex and that he often masturbated and came without a full erection. When he and his wife were trying to get pregnant he had a full medical work up and the dr's found no physical reason for him to be unable to maintain an erection. So, basically it was emotional. He was an only child and kind of intense and closed about more things than I am, for sure. I think he thinks there is a right and wrong way for things to be done and has a limited ability to see the shades of grey. I feel like all I see are shades of grey:) Anyway, our conversation lowered my inhibitions but raised his. I decided to look on his sexual issue as something that we could work through with support. He claimed to be in love with me after like our second week of dating. After our talk, I bought him a cock ring, figuring it would help him to maintain an erection. In hindsight, I think that is what ended our relationship. I think he would still say it was me and I still believe it is heavily influenced by the recent end of his marriage. Anyway, his wife called him at midnight monday? while he was lying naked in my bed-after the cock ring had failed-and after he got off of the phone with her he asked me if he should leave. I said ok. I guess he took it as me breaking up with him. I did tell him at the door that I did not think he was finished with his wife-but I had been saying that since our first date. Anyway, like a day later he breaks up with me in a text message saying I have anger issues. Boy did that piss me off. I have all kinds of issues and a scary temper, but I am sick unto death of men side stepping the real reason they did not want to pursue a relationship with me. I own up to my own shit and carry my own baggage and fuck if I was going to allow him to push his issues of on me with this lame ass "anger" issue bullshit. It was also difficult because I had not spent so much time with a man like that in years. I mean he came over all the time, he interacted with A, he walked Chaos-it was like a real relationship. It took alot for me to be able to let my barriers down and let him in. To have him blow it off with a text message telling me I was angry just sent me over the edge. I called in the next day and stayed home and slept and read and felt sorry for myself. I texted him wednesday and told him how hard it had been to allow man that kind of intimacy and how low he was to break up with me in a fucking text message. I pointed out to him that when I had issues I always discussed them with him, in an email, by phone and face to face and that he owed me the same in return. All he kept doing is sending me text messaes saying he apologized. Sorry does not mean shit to me, it never has, fix it, don't apologize for it. Finally on thursday I called him and the chicken shit actually answered the phone. I cried, I bitched, I gave him a severe dressing down. Finally I pointed out to him that I was not "angry", I was aggressive. I hate that women who are not afraid to be themselves and ask for what they need are considered angry bitches. If I was a man I would successful, as a woman I am angry. I pointed out to him that I did not have road rage, get into it in grocery stores, restaurants, at work or with neighbors. Angry people usually have multiple confrontations-even they are only verbal. I asked him to name a time I was angry and he said I was angry with A. The truth is he does not approve of how I parent. Most people without kids think they know dick about parenting. The truth is I am a parent and I struggle, how the hell is a non-parent going to know ANYTHING. He basically was sheltered and had some trauma from his dad divorcing his mom and his step-dad being an alcoholic. In all honesty I think he suffers from major depression. I think that is why he is so odd and has the problems he has. I also challenged on some of his "knowledge". He does not think much of his looks, but he does think he is very smart and I think it was a given in his marriage and probably most of his relationships that he was the brains of the operation. I know without a doubt that I am ever bit as intelligent as him and I think he felt insecure about that. Either way, after our discussion and me calling him on bullshit I think he felt worse, but I sure felt better. When he first dumped me by text with the whole "I hope you find what you are looking for" bullshit-that is totally inappropriate for the depth of our relationship. I told him that Karma was a bitch and I hoped that when he secured his baggage and was ready for the real thing he met someone just like him, LOL! Who am I kidding, he will never secure his baggage because it is easier for him to find fault with others than to see his own part in it. I did point out to him that the only thing his wife and I had in common was him and that it was my experience that when you found the same thing with every person you were with-it is you and not them. He somewhat agreed. He just seemed so disconnected, it was weird. Not even 72 hours previously he was so in love with me and I was so perfect, etc, etc, etc. You would think, wouldn't you, that after him I would learn to listen to my instincts-sadly that is NOT the case.
Which brings me to my lastest fiasco. Friday, after a rough week at work and dealing with the M thing-I nicely discuss with A that she has got to do better. Complete and turn in her homework, get up on her own in the morning, help around the house, etc, etc. I found out she had skipped a class and put her on semi-punishment. I let her know exactly what I expected and that after she did what she needed to she could earn her privledges each day. I was talking I on the phone when she tells me she needs to talk to me. She wants to run away and wants me to just let her go. She was not crying or upset, but I was just like what the fuck, you have got to be kidding me. I aksed her what she thought would be different someplace else-everywhere you go people will have expectations of you and often you will not to do what is expected. I also pointed out that another mouth to feed was expensive and what made her think any of her friends parents would be able and willing to afford raising her. I asked what was so awful about living here. She said it was not me she just needed to get away. So, I called my mom who agreed to keep her for the weekend. I had to work and could not handle her being home alone and possibly running away while I was at work. I also was angry with her for using running away against me. It makes me hesitate to punish her because I am always afraid I will come home and she will be gone. She has had such a sheltered life and I do not think she has any idea of what it would be like to be a 15 year old making her own way in the world. I am hardly a model parent and no where near mom of the year, but she has not had a bad life and I think she owes me more than this. It turned out to be a good thing she went to my mom's. I had a much needed break and she decided home was not so bad after all. She kept pushing me to pick her up and she was ready to come home now. I did not pick her up until 9pm and told her I needed some time to myself and she would just have to lie in the bed she made for herself:)
Anyway, friday after my mom picked her up, I was hurt and vulnerable and a guy I had been talking to online-another M, we'll call him Ma called me. We got to talking about 11 pm he talks me into coming over. I agree, because I was just that vulnerable and just that needy. Anyway, he gave me a message-he has had professional training-sucked my toes and we ended up having sex. Really good sex. His dick was quite large-both length and width and he was good with positions-I really needed that. Anyway, he now wants us to be together, stop dating other people, etc. He is also high maintaince-if I do not respond immediately to his text I am too busy or with someone else. His suspicion of me confirms that he is likely a cheater-people who do not cheat usually are not as possesive. He also has some self-esteem issues. In him I saw a mirror of myself-dating man after man after man-desperate to no longer be alone. I kind of figured he could just be my fuck buddy-I had already decided after M to take a break from serious dating and just have some fun. However, when I was so busy at work and not returning his texts in a timely manner he coped an attitude. He also flew off the handle when I said I did not date men for their physical looks but for their personality. He said, "well, lots of women want to be with me so do not be dating me out of pity." I explained that beauty is only skin deep and a man who's personality I am attracted to I am usually attracted to physically. Physical alone is not enough to keep or even interest me. Anyway, he kind of calmed down after that. He also is big time into the church-though he apparently does not believe in waiting until marriage for intimacy-and is very concerned about me being Buddhist. I explained Buddhism to him and let him know that I would go to church with him if he liked but that I would NEVER be a christian-it is not for me. Anyway, he came back over sunday night and we had sex before I went to pick up A. The sex was not that good the second time and he is so big it hurt. Plus he kept pushing me to take my ad off of the free dating site-to appease him I put up that I was taking a break from dating-but he said that did not mean anything and he wanted me to put that I had met a man, etc. Now, mind you he has not changed his ad-but he claims he does not have access to change his, but he does have access to view mine. LOL, men! Well, he does not know it yet, but I have seen him for the last time. I am going to casually date and may go see C again-he and have been exchanging emails since we stopped dating and he has expressed how much he misses me. I may see him everyother week or so on his terms and continue to date-but not as seriously.
So, that is my love life month to date:)

On the sex front......
So of the guys I have dated this year, who was the best at what?
We will start with B-he came in a few minutes but he was the best kisser ever. I date so many men with thin lips I forget what it is like to kiss a man with full lips. He licked, nibbled, gently, softly-it was enough to make me want to cum-just from kissing him.
Then there was J-we never actually had penetrative sex-and he was a sloppy kisser and grabbed my breasts way too hard-but WOW did he give the best head ever. He clearly had a lot of practice because I think I saw stars.
Then there was C-who I also never was penetrated by-we did everything but-which was really nice. C made me feel like a sex goddess. I truly felt beautiful and desirable. He was always hard around me-he was the oldest of all the men I dated and he stayed hard the most, interesting, huh?-and when I took my clothes off-especially my shirt-his lit up like he had never seen a naked woman before. I truly felt sexy, desirable and wanted with him. He was the first man I ever willing took time and effort to take sexy pics for. He loved them all.
Then there was M, well M the first, M the canadian. He also made me feel perfect, well not perfect so much as ideal-but he shattered it at the end by wiping his emotional shit on me. Ah well, no doubt it is tarnished by own anger-LOL! Anyway, he was the gentlest, he handled me like I was breakable-like I was made of spun sugar and crack and disintigrate under too push pressure. I have never had anyone lick my nipples like he did. WOW I could have cum from that alone. He was passable at giving head, but his real gift was sucking my neck-like a fricking vampire:)-and making sweet soft love to my sensitive nipples.
M the second, Ma-now he, he had a HUGE penis. I mean length and girth-and he knew how to use it. He was also a positions guru which I love. Now major position changes, but slight variations which changed the way he felt inside of me-and boy was inside of me. I had not had a man inside of me since B. It was worth the wait. If he had not been such a controlling jerk wo could have been fuck buddies-because he was so good at fucking me. His dick was just a bit too big, there was blood when I wiped myself after he had me. I also screamed for him-whcih I am not sure I have ever done for a man. I think I was partially screaming because it hurt and partially because it felt so fucking good and then he would move my leg or my hips just slightly and I swear I saw stars.
Ah well, now it is just me and my favorite silver vibrator, sigh. Of course, no one makes me cum like I make me cum, so I am guarenteed hours of orgasmic pleasure-but still. I miss the cuddling. I would have to say M the first was also the best cuddler.
Huh, well, there is my sex with the ex's update:)