Free Bitch!

Balls out:  That’s how I am going to start living my life.  This bitch is going to write whatever the fuck she wants.I have gained a certain rawness from certain incidents in my life that tend to stay with me quite a long time.

I am not a “heal overnight” kinda gal; Yet I know some women who are. Whether it be a shitty comment someone said to me, broken friendship, some sort of important business crap fall through, whatever..it takes me a minute to process what the hell just happened. I have a big heart, I am not a shitty friend or some sort of fucked up sociopath and do not tend to make bad decisions that are not basically, and or obsessively, well thought out.

In the movie “Clueless” Cher states: “You see how picky I am about my shoes and they only go on my feet.” That pretty much sums it up when it comes to me and dating. Picky. As dating is fairly new for me per my marital break up two years ago.  Since then I have done a lot of binge-watching “Hart-to-Hart”, (BecauseMrs Hart..She’s Gorgeous)  “Breaking Bad” and pretty much every series that looked remotely interesting without a ten-season commitment, from Netflix to Amazon Prime.

Some women just go through a breakups like they do lattes and move on. They grab their proverbial balls and just move on. For me, I got stuck at Never hundred o’ clock.

What is Never hundred o’ clock? 

Welp,  Never hundred o’ clock is :  a) a time that will absolutely never come or  b) a groundhog-type day/situation that you know will never change. Now, this is nothing like Johnny Mathis’ over-romanticized  trademark vibrato in the song: “Twelfth of Never”, although I wish it was.This is a time or situation that is just absolutely not going to happen.  Ever.

Never hundred o’ clock,  for example, is that time when someone enters the friend zone, on hearing something like: “I am sure glad I met you; you have really have become a sister to me.”.

My ex-husband was king of over-winding the hands to Never hundred o’ clock. Every single day. The wasted sense of hope…and hope, by the way, is wasted energy. I found that out the hard way- it is the love child of worry and what-if : so knock it off with the hope shit. It either is or isn’t. 

I enmeshed myself in that sort of hope every fucking morning of that shit-ass relationship.  The hoping and wishing for any sort of romance, and any smoke-signal of communication to rear it’s head, ugly or otherwise, and it just never happened.

Now don’t get my creative language mistaken for angst or anger. I use it merely to make a case-in- point as I look back with irony and humor, in thinking things would change in a Never hundred o’ clock. situation. Fortunately I found a grain of self-esteem left, and broke out of a really, really dangerously abusive situation.The Alanis Morisette’s song “Ironic” is a great example of Never hundred o’ clock.

With that being said, It seems that I tend to sit in this timezone quite often. Every time I have ever tried to start a blog, I would write like there is someone sitting and watching, begrudgingly, over my shoulder.

This time I am not doing that. I never felt I have had anything worthy to say that any normal person would want to listen to. I realized that I myself, am not a ‘normal’ person, so why would I care? (Insert THC induced epiphany here)

So, I sat on this blog and never published anything.  Sat at Never hundred o’ clock.. for a very very long time. So here I am breaking out  with a fuck of a lot of bravery and huge chunk of vulnerability.

Blog Post Song Pairing: Tenement Funster/Flick Of the Wrist/Lily of the Valley ~ Queen

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