Titanium Balls/Ovaries

For a while now, I debated how to start my blog and what to make it about. Originally, I started this blog after multiple friends randomly suggested I begin one and share all my crazy tales of the dating/FWB (friend’s with benefits) world. And even though eventually I’ll  tell you all my juicy stories, for now I felt the need to go back and explain some of my background. I guess you could say the reason I procrastinated on writing anything in this blog is because I lacked inspiration. And tonight I experienced a moment with myself (….No…I wasn’t masturbating…lol) and this moment was so profound that I felt the need to record it in words.

As my friends and family know, I’m a pretty stubborn, lovable, loyal, protective, and tough person (I’m a Leo… I can’t help it). I don’t appreciate drama of any kind and I absolutely abhor the feeling of being suffocated by someone. You may be asking yourself, what does she mean by suffocated? Obviously no one likes suffocation unless you’re into that type of thing… but the type of suffocation I’m referring to is in reference to clingy, jealous, blowing up your phone, has issues with what you wear out with your girlfriends, insecure, sad, sad, men (or women for my lezzies out there). To avoid such a sticky situation I refrained from forming any deep relationship with my partners and preferred to keep it on a superficial level. Namely sex. But eventually that gets old and one of the symptoms of having a vagina (and being a human being in general) is the need to obtain a connection with someone so deep, that you tumble into your preconceived notion of what “love” is and feels like.  Not until almost a year ago did I allow myself to fall in love with someone.  Of course, as with all relationships, when it was great it felt beyond everything. The world disappears, your partner’s flaws aren’t that big a deal, you can’t stop thinking about them, but most importantly, when you touch, kiss, or have sex, you feel a reverberation travel through your body like you never felt before. A passion, a need, a hunger, a total consumption. For the first time I felt a swell in my chest and it wasn’t for a friend or a family member…..it was for a boy….my counterpart. You guys, no kidding, I felt like the Grinch….when his heart grew 3 times bigger in a day. To tell you the truth it was quite uncomfortable. I felt like my chest was too tight. In retrospect maybe I was passing gas or something. Anyways, like most of these stories go, when it ended it was devastating. In the story of most relationships (if not all) you will always have a villain and a survivor (I never appreciated the idea of a victim, so I prefer to refer to the villain’s counterpart as a survivor). I just happened to fall into the survivor category. In a nut shell this is how it went down….girl hesitates to fall in love…boy says “trust in me, have faith in me, I won’t hurt you”…. Boy breaks his word and is the first to run away after he….not me…. Says “I can see myself being married to you and having kids with you” (and to be 100% honest, for the first time in my life that felt like a great idea, something I could see myself doing with him). Mind you, I never pushed for a ring or anything like that because….why ruin something that’s perfect? (can you tell I’m a little bit marriage/commitment phobic?)

Well ladies and gents, he knocked me on my ass. Slap in the face. Everyone knows I’m not a crier and in the rare occasions I do shed tears it’s because my heart was deeply torn. Normally it stems from a death, or from seeing someone in extreme pain and feeling helpless in alleviating it. This time, the cause was a boy. Before falling in love I always told myself to never shed a tear for a man. And apparently sometimes you even break the promises you make to yourself. My friends and family saw a little bit of the tears….they mostly felt the heavy heart. But in the privacy of my room, while confining myself to my bed all day for hours on end with only my thoughts to comfort me, I felt as if a well of sorrow ruptured and wouldn’t stop pouring out of my eyes. I realized that I gave the boy the power to make me feel so unbelievably sad. And knowing that truth made me feel even more sorrow. But most of all it made me angry at myself.  I am a firm believer that no one should ever be given the power to make you feel ugly, sad, broken, or betrayed. And I understand that this statement is flawed in the sense that, in order to feel elated and incandescently happy, you allow cracks in your armor which in turn allows your partner’s actions or words to pierce through your heart like daggers.

Last night, I saw a picture on facebook of the boy. And he titled it “Just for you…” ……The picture consisted of him smiling and a girl immediately commented on it and mentioned how sweet he was. Prior to this picture I noticed that he had gone back to all the pictures of us together or of me that he commented on or “liked” and removed his loving comment and “unliked” them all. I honestly felt like he was trying to erase me. As if I didn’t exist. This, was coming from the boy that broke my heart while promising that he loved me, was still IN love with me, and that swore all he needed was time, to better himself to be worthy of me. He might be dating this girl, or I might be reading too much into things and they might be friends. My friend suggested that I ask him if he was dating someone. To which I responded, “I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I might be jealous”. That would be just another piece of me that he takes with him and I think he ripped off a good enough chunk the first time around.

I was in my car, driving, and the thought of him feeling worthy enough for someone else was bothering me to no end. What has changed now? What does she bring to the table that I never did? Who is this bitch? Why is he still under my skin after so much time has passed? Why did I choose him to be the first boy I give my heart to? Why was I so stupid? How pathetic am I that I feel hot drops of water, slowly rolling down my eyes, over my cheeks, pooling underneath my chin to fall down onto my chest? How could I have given him the power to make me feel so deceived and broken?

I got home and undressed for my nightly shower. As I stood in front of my bathroom mirror, something inside of me said “stop…..look at yourself”.  I have never felt insecure or ugly about myself physically, but while questioning myself in the car I felt ugly about the power I had given him and how angry he made me feel at my own character. He cracked my armor, passed through my barriers, and pierced me at the core of who I am. I felt pathetic and ugly that I allowed a boy to make me doubt my character and inner self. I squared my shoulders, held my head high, stared into my eyes, and within me I heard “You are beautiful”. I kept on hearing it in my mind as if it was a beacon of my soul reflecting itself into my eyes. I stood there, naked, emotionally raw, tall, beautiful, (gorgeous tits if I may say so myself), glowing skin, and I kept hearing a voice from within my chest, my soul, my inner God, Goddess, Buddha, Deity, Spirit, Ancestors and they kept on chanting “Look at yourself….. You are beautiful!”  I began to cry again, this time not of melancholy, but of pure fascination of the woman I am. I felt like Xena warrior princess. Yea I’m a tough bitch, I’m loud, I’m a lioness, I protect those I love, I am there when needed, I open my heart and arms to all of those in need (human or animal), I am strong, I Feel, I’m naïve at times, but at least I’m not so jaded that I can still be naïve and trust the good in others. I allowed myself to be burned by someone and that scar has fortified my heart. I gave him the power to let his actions hurt me but I never gave him the power to break me. Here I am, looking into my eyes, shoulders back, neck straight, head held high, hands on my hips and I am one hot, sexy, unbelievably gorgeous bitch. And you better believe that no one can take that from me. No matter how many times my heart might break, or my spirit feels broken, or pounds I gain or lose, or scars I obtain on the inside or out.

**Moral of the story** When you are at your lowest or feel exhausted or need to be reminded of your strength. Bare yourself to a mirror. Stand there naked, and raw, stare directly into your eyes, and you might be surprised at what your inner light, voice, soul, spirit, (whatever you want to call it) might say about who you are. I’m not a bible thumping, uber spiritual or religious person. But tonight, I allowed myself….to listen….to myself, and remind me of the fucking titanium balls/ovaries I was born with and the fucking awesome person I am and strive to be.

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7 responses to “Titanium Balls/Ovaries

  1. fabulous! It takes a lot of courage to be able to write this all out and share with others… especially since I know you and you are a tough cookie

  2. I was that bitch. I asked him a pic since he told me he was losing weight and I was back in Amsterdam. Hope you feel better.

    • Lol….. Hi love…. no worries….he told me as much the last time we had sex in august (bad habits die hard…lol). Anyways, the pic thing was the best thing that could have happened to me. It was exactly the slap I needed to snap out of this haze of what we had. After I wrote that post I realized that I wasn’t really still in love with him, as much as I was with the idea of what we once had. So after that posting, I let it go, let him go, and let the past go and I’m currently in a new chapter of my life…. and I feel like I’m in a great place at the moment… : ) ….. I have to say, Thanks for commenting. I’m so happy that you read my blog. I always love meeting new people. Feel free to comment or read it anytime. I definitely want to shift this blog from being the “break-up” blog to something more light and funny. Hope everything is going great in Amsterdam 🙂

      • I’m glad you’re happy doing your thing, but if “shifting your blog to a light and funny level” means you’re continuing talking about the guys you’re fucking and how great your pussy is, I pass. Keep doing what you feel is the right thing though.

      • Oh Honey….bless your heart….I replied to your original comment with friendliness in mind, openness, and overall sincerity of what happened and where I’m heading. I have a sneaky suspicion you may have misinterpreted the intentions behind it. Especially since your reply seems mean spirited and judgmental. I hope that isn’t a real reflection of your character because if it is, that’s really just….sad. Also, I appreciate you referencing only 1 posting out of 3 or 4 as if that encompasses the entire blog. But I do realize that the humor in “My Pussy is Golden” was lost on you and that not everyone is going to get it or like it (though a one night stand coming out of the woodwork and proposing via text….really?…not funny?). Anyway, like my blog states, I’m an open book. I live my life without regrets or shame. Good, bad, or ugly I have many experiences that I find funny and should’t really be taken to heart. At the end of the day, I want my blog to be a place where people can share without fear of judgement from others that haven’t walked in their shoes or know who they are. This isn’t going to be a back and forth commentary on my blog. Like my first post states, I have zero tolerance for drama. I find it petty and overall unsavory. I wish you well, I do hope everything is going or went well in Amsterdam, my blog isn’t your cup of tea, its ok, it won’t be for everyone :). I’m glad you expressed yourself and I’m sure you are happy, have a wealth of friends and family, and are living the life you want to live. Wishing you all the best :).

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