I posted no smoking on my personals. In fact, smoking partners is a deal breaker.
I do not want to kiss ashtrays.
The last guy I was with was a smoker, and I couldn’t kiss him when he come home from work.
Gum does not hide the smoky taste or smell.
I am lonely, but no enough to give up my sensitive lungs to a smoker.
I will not tell someone to stop their bad habit, because that leaves them to tell me to stop mine (saying I`m sorry for nothing, stalling, and soda. I’m sure there are others bad habits too. I’m not perfect.)
It’s crazy those since posting “I do not want smokers,” I`ve gotten replies from 6 different guys who all smoke. Either they didn’t read my profile or simply don’t care what or whom I want.
What does deal breaker mean, people? I means I do NOT want to date smokers. Please move on.
After my semi vanilla relations, (Oct to Dec (2017)) . . . I’ve learned I cannot not go vanilla, but I do want to date and cuddle.
I want a positive, ambitious submissive boyfriend. (I do not want a mindless drone or a complainer.)
However I’m slowly learning that life or fate will never put you in the wrong spot. I learned I need to let life do it’s thing. I should not push because I feel desperately lonely.
I’ve learned life will put in me in the right place, at the right time, even if I’m confused in the present.
I just need to do my thing and Mr. Right will be there when I probably least expect it.
Meanwhile I should enjoy my life: good writing, good family, and good friends.
I just to realize I will find that genuine people that I’m into, but they are not into me. I’m not everyone’s favorite soda-pop or cup of tea.
I simply need to move on and focus and believe life knows what it is doing.
Ironic this writing assignment is over a week late to deadline (anniversary of Toms death January 13th.) The irony is that it was usually Tom nagging me, pushing me to finish my writing on time. Another ironic thing is Interview with a Vampire is playing in the background. Tom’s favorite movie.
Tom’s Dream Funeral
I lived with Tom for 8 years. . . I like to believe you get to know someone really well in 8 years.
As lovely and simple as the real funeral was . . . it was not what Tom would have wanted. He told first of all, he wanted to be biodiamonds. He wanted to be made into jewelry for those closest to him. I would have requested a ring for my middle finger on right hand. The right hand is my dominant and he taught me to say “fuck it” sometimes.
I think it would be in the woods with candles, latter’s and huge bonfire. We have a fake body in which we burn while celebrating him moving into a different realm. We drink, eat, listen to his favorite classic rock music. We sit around the fire and tell stories of him.
What I miss the most, I’ll never find anyone as passionate as he was. He bold, daring, loud, and rambunctious. There was rarely a dull moment with him. Whether it was him yelling at TV over wrestling or football or passionate reciting Lestat quotes from Anne Rice.
I also think I never got to appreciate the way he should have been. He taught me so much about love, hope, dreams, support, and passionate. I hope he knows he will always be remembered for his liveliness.
Tom got me into so many things vampires, ghost, Paganism, and new age. His book shelf was full of these catorgies.
I love how we used to read together.
We both studied and celebrated Paganism and exploring the dark spiritual realm.
Tom would get excited over whatever I made whether it was grilled cheese with tomato soup or super chocolate cake. He loved my desserts. . .
I made him a five layer cake for one birthday.
I made my own fontant.
This was the leftover Halloween candy cake.
My family recipe pineapple upside down cake.
I laugh because I know he will still haunt me. (He celebrated his birthdays for weeks, not days.)
I’m talking about my ex Tom. He was my longest relationship so far. It is hard to get him out of my head . . . he passed away from cancer January 13, 2017. (Saturday will be his anniversary of his death.)
So starting today, I’m going to highlight a different thing about him until Saturday and I will write out his funeral the way he would have wanted it.
(I find it funny that I told myself I was going to give myself until December 31st, 2017 and move on. He and I both know I am trying, but when someone lives you for 8 years of your life, they make an impact. )
Why don’t people listen to me when I say they can’t handle me?
I have depression and anxiety, and there are times I cannot deal with life. I need to go into my Sim games, my art, my walking, or most of my fictional writing. It is a process for me to come back to me. I’m usually a very positive, perky person, but over the years, life has worn me down.
I need positive people. I need someone who will encourage me, to keep my spirits up.
I do not need someone who complains about everything in life. I do not need someone so toxic that even the sun shine is bitch. I met someone like this. . . and tried to be friends. He never ask me about me, just complained about everything from work to his place to food. He even tried to joke about his complains, thinking he was being cute. A complaint is a complaint whether you whine, snap, bitch, or laugh about it. I couldn’t take it, and said whatever. (That was my depression talking, but I realize I couldn’t help him, and he was pulling me down. He made me feel insecure of who I was, and I had to save myself.)
I did feel bad he had no friends, but now I know why.
Then he said he was done, but I’m not going to fight back. I know is going to complain about me. I have my own problems. However I hope down the road, he find someone special and string who makes his complaints fade away. (Even though I’m hurt, I still hope he finds happiness. That is just who I am.)