Regrettable Profile of the Day: "In My Late Fourty"

This is an actual profile on a dating site for LESBIANS.

 My self-summary

IM IN MY LATE FOURTY I HAVE BLUE EYES 6 FOOT AND WAS MARRIED FOR 13 YEARS AND LOST MY SPOUSE IN 09 AND IM EASY GOING WOMAN LOOKING FOR A FRIEND FIRST AND THEN A LONG TERM RELACTION SHIPAND HAVE NOT BEEN WITH ANYONE IN OVER ABOUT 2 YEARS AND LOVE TO GET OUT AND START DATING AND ENJOY MY NEW LIFE AND SEE WHAT PATH IM ON AND LOOKING FOR A SWEETMAN AND LAID BACK I LIKE COUNTRY MUSIC AND I LIKE PRO FOOTBALL BRONCOS AND LIKE THE OUTDOORS CAMPING FISHING AND YES HUNTING AND IM SORRY I DONT HAVE A CAMMERA TO PUT A PICTURE UP AND I LIVE FULLTIME FOR OVERABOUT 5YEARS I THINK I LOOK OK BE THE JUDGE MAYBE

I am 49 YEARS, BLUE EYES, and TRANS WOMAN

What I’m doing with my life

FINDING HOO I AM I LIKE TO GO VISIT GIRLFRIENDS AND GO OUT SHOPING LOOK OUT HA HA AND TAKE CARE OF MY CAT AND I LIKE TO COOK AND IF I CAN I WOULD GO TO A MOVE BUT OTHER THEN THAT IM A HOME BODY

I’m really good at

AT BEING A FRIEND AND I CAN DRIVE A SEMI TRUCKAND A 60 FOOT TRAILER AND HAVE DONE OTHER THINGS

The first things people usually notice about me

THATS HARD BECAUSE NOONE HAS NEVER TOLD ME BUT THAT I CARE ABOUT OTHERS AND I BELIVE IN THE LAW

Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food

IM NOT MUCH OF A READER I CANT SIT STILL LONG BUT I DO LOVE COUNTRY MUSIC GRASS ROUTE AND THE CARPENTERS AND I LIKE ALL KINDS OF MOVES LIKE ACTION WESTERNS OLD TIME MOVES AND EVEN ROMANS

The six things I could never do without

MY CAT FRIENDS GOOD FOOD THINGS FROM THE PAST COUNTRY CDS AND A GOOD HAIR DAY

I spend a lot of time thinking about

MY SPOUSE MY PAST THINKING OF MY MOTHER AND IF I WILL FIND A RELACTIONSHIP AGAIN MY TRUE MATE

On a typical Friday night I am

SITING AT HOME NO ONE TO DATE ATTHIS TIME

The most private thing I’m willing to admit

I HAVE A SOFT HEART AND WILL CRY FOR SAD THINGS

I’m looking for

    Guys and girls who like bi girls
    Ages 47-54
    Near me
    Who are single
    For new friends

You should message me if

IF YOU THINK WE HAVE SOMTHING IN COMM AND IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO WIYH A OLDER WOMAN BUT NOT THAT OLD
=============================

You see what I'm up against, here?

Regrettable Profile of the Day: "In My Late Fourty"

The Truth about Cats & Fire

I recently discovered that cats are not flammable. Now, before you call PETA and leave nasty comments, let me point out that this knowledge was gathered through an unfortunate incident involving a fluffy tail and an otherwise innocent candle.

My cat, Biscuit made the mistake of swishing her tail over the triple wick flames of a Hazelnut cream candle, and POOF! her tail was ablaze, and as i reached for her, as she jumped atop a shelf by my computer, i realized the flame had already gone out. I had to chase her though the house, trying to find out if she was okay and if a trip to the vet was in our immediate future. It took me a long time to find her. Not an encouraging bit of knowledge, as i imagined what it would have been like if her tail DIDN'T extinguish itself, and I had to chase her--fully ablaze (the cat, not me), helpless to save her from a horrible fate. But, as it turns out, there was no cause for concern. when i finally coaxed her out from under a dresser, she was none the worse for wear except for the singed parts, which seemed entirely superficial.

I'm not sure if there's a sort of breed restriction on this fact. Like, are Angora cats flammable, while Calicos are not? Are Tabbies flammable, while Siamese are not? I would guess that Sphinx cats are nonflammable, by virtue of the fact that they don't have hair at all. What they would get is a burn. And there are creams for that. So as to the question of flammability where it concerns felines, I may never know. And that's a good thing, I suppose, since this isn't the type of field research I like doing. Some questions just don't need answers.

The Truth about Cats & Fire

Acrocat Monkey

Monkey did the funniest thing. She was living up to her name again. It might be a little hard to explain, since i didn't have my iPhone in my pocket and didn't get a picture of it...by the time it happened, i didn't even know it was going to be picture-worthy.

So, here's the scene: my washer and dryer is in a closet space with folding doors. I opened the left one to check the clothes in the dryer, and she slithered into the space between the washer and the door, and on to the side, another tiny space between the washer and the wall. Once there, she discovered there was nowhere to go, and started to back out, but her rump hit the door. Now, I've seen her do some pretty acrobatic things (she's an acrocat), but this time, I thought i was going to have to dig her out of there. Au Contraire. 

As I watched, she used her hind legs to WALK UP the door (still backward, mind you), then when she was balanced vertically on her front feet, flipped herself over, twisting like a gymnast, so that her back legs landed where her head used to be. Then she was facing out, and slithered back along the space and out of the closet.

I could swear i heard her say "Tah dah!"

Acrocat Monkey

Father, no--Brother

I had been asleep only four hours when I woke up crying. A dream. I was at some kind of family gathering, a reunion, perhaps. I was stocking some refreshments, but I was being paid to work at this place.  (I haven't done that kind of work in 20 years). From my peripheral vision, i saw a man walk in, and something compelled me to take a good look at him. It was my father.  My dead father. No, it was my brother, who looked just like him, now. I hadn't seen my brother in something like 13 years. He had changed. He now looked like my father. I turned away swiftly, not wanting him to see me. Not wanting the emotional confrontation that would be inevitable. What was he doing here?  Tears began to stream down my face, and I continued to hide from my brother, hoping he wouldn't recognize me. Even though i wanted to pretend he was my father, and I would have the chance to say goodbye.

My family took that away from me when he died last January, and i found out 13 days after the fact, from (of all places) friends of friends on Facebook. To add insult to injury, they left me out of the obit too. I wrote about this in Surviving Family Member.  

Whatever it was that made my family hate me, is still a mystery. I spent half my adult life trying to win their approval and love, until I finally had to just give that up and get on with my life. Perhaps that's why I spent the last ten years trying to become the most quality person I could be. I needed to know for sure that there was no reason for them to have made me the pariah, the outcast, the black sheep. No reason other than their own selfishness and ignorance. And I'm sure it's why the thought of growing old without enough friends and a partner is so sad and frightening to me. If I don't have many friends and a partner who loves me sincerely, and chooses to be with me, it becomes pejorative commentary on my value as a human being.


So again, I take a deep breath, tell myself I matter, wipe the tears away, and make coffee.

Father, no--Brother

Bell Ringing

One of my Achilles heels is that I have an underlying suspicion that i am incapable of falling in love again. I mean, researchers have told us that the chemical condition of being in love is analogous to OCD--being in love means you're obsessed and obsession is fraught with problems, and not very healthy. You make bad decisions based on those chemicals, and not on what is actually true... So I've been, in recent years, going for the other facets of a good long term relationship--security, dependability, good communication, a shared sense of humor, begin treated well, being friends,  cultivating a deeper, more abiding, mature love, having good sex....

Sure, I might find someone who i think rings my bells, but then again, what if it's not my bells? What if I'm just standing next to someone else's bells, and I'm just confused? And someone can look good on paper but not ultimately be good for me. They can ring my paper bells. But the bells are still made of paper. And they won't hold up to a storm, and can tear quite easily from any impact or stress.

I just hope i meet someone with the bells to be my partner.

Bell Ringing

Chicken-Proper

The tendency for some humans to be weak-minded disturbs me sometimes. So often, it is easier to embrace the easy answer of "I don't know" over the more difficult response, "I don't know, but I'll try to find out."

Example: we've often heard the alleged conundrum "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?" as if this is some mind-bender of a riddle. It's not as inexplicable as all that. To wit: from a scientific perspective, at one time, there were no chickens, and chickens appeared in the evolutionary chain because two non-chickens mated, created a zygote (first cell) of an offspring, and that cell divided, to create more cells that also divided repeatedly, with a mutation or two along the way that created the first chicken-PROPER. So the egg had to come first, before the First Chicken could exist. (the First Chicken: sounds like the president of the civilization founded on the planet of Hen). 

I guess what I'm saying is, if you're not intrigued, challenged and motivated by questions without answers (or with unsatisfactory ones) then you are an Intellectual chicken. I am loath to ever fall into that category, and I wish more people felt the same. 

I don't know what the chickens think about all this. I'm not bi-lingual.

Chicken-Proper

Send Matches or UPS

Still, I'm not writing. What is wrong with me? I try, but then nothing comes out. And yes, I'm writing this blog, but it's not what i mean by "writing." For me, writing means writing A BOOK. Nothing has ever kept me from writing. Nothing. No One. Ever. Never. Nada, zip zero, zilch. After authoring 22 books, and having about 7 in various stages of completion, it's not like this is usually an issue for me. So what's my problem? Was it that train wreck of a last relationship i just came out of? (Escaped from, would be more accurate. My exit strategy was get out as soon as possible and start again, alone. Brilliant, I know). So here I am, in a lovely apartment, better than the one before the doomed relationship, in a fabulous neighborhood which i also love, and I'm even making more money now than before. So again, what's my problem? 

Maybe i need to get laid. But in order to do that, i have to go OUT more often than i am. As my best friend Justi always told me, "If you continue living like that, you'll only meet a girl if she happens to be a UPS delivery person." (maybe I could start by ordering a bunch more stuff off the Internet?) So getting laid...That's an idea. But I'm not much for meaningless sex. Though sometimes meaningless sex can have its benefits. It might inspire me to write again. But then I'll probably only be able to write about meaningless sex. (Is that a bad thing?)


I keep hoping for that one little thing that will light my creative fire again. Please, dear readers, send matches. (Or a hot UPS girl).

Send Matches or UPS

To Be or Not to Be

 
Damaged people live among us. They deny, they lament, they scream, and think no one hears them. So they self-medicate, create grand illusions of fictive comfort, and when those fictions fail them, then finally, they descend into the abyss of helpless despair. 
When we hear our elders speak of "the good ol' days"-- we mustn't dismiss the significance of those simpler times. They matter, because all those hordes of damaged people would have been fine in 1952, but now, they have to deal with chaos and war and complications and the economy and drugs and challenge and an ever-increasing onslaught of the global village. 

I have often asked myself, is the world too much for me, or am I too much for the world? Years ago, and for a long time I thought the world was too much for me, but now I believe I'm too much for the world. And that doesn't make me better, it just makes me aware. And awareness leads to knowledge and knowledge leads to power, and with power, we can overcome. Halleluiah, and pass the guacamole.

Shakespeare wrote the now-infamous lines,

to be or not to be; that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing, end them...

There are those in this world who are trapped in between the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, and the strength to resist and change their own outcome. That kind of strength is not something that comes to the meek. It comes only to those who can step away from their own pain long enough to see the possibilities, the beauty that can be had in this life. They are met again and again by cold reality, and their resistance to that truth ensures that they repeat the same behaviors. And in so doing, they ensure the same results, until all outcomes are predicated on a self fulfilling prophesy. This is how they sabotage themselves.

To Be or Not to Be

Review of "Armchair Detective" in Kissed by Venus

Title: ARMCHAIR DETECTIVE
Author: Kelli Jae Baeli
Publisher: Light Switcher Books
ISBN: 978-0615455211
Rating: 4.5 Stars
Genre: Detective/Romance

Jobeth O'Brien awakens on the floor of her kitchen, her battered face and the memory of an angry visitor tells her that she is close to something important in her investigation. In between this surveillance and delivering newspapers, her beloved ‘62 Falcon is the scene of middle-of-the-night romps with a lonely socialite, who gives her more than she bargained for. Her quest for the truth pits her against errant husbands, a modern-day madam with a taste for blood, a horny landlady, a vicious attack dog, and the lies she tells herself. Amid these challenges, Jobeth stakes out her prey and runs for her life, continuing the investigation that pulls her into close calls, unexpected allies, and more secrets. But Jobeth has secrets of her own, and only love can excavate them.

Review by Kate Genet, for Kissed by Venus Magazine

The most appealing thing about this novel is its narrative voice. Written in first person, this novel is wry and humorous. It’s the first thing that draws you into the story and it’s at once self-depreciating and self-assured, which is an interesting combination. For a while I thought this self-assurance bordered on cocky, but by a few chapters into the book I was captivated. It’s a strong voice and it never falters once in the whole novel.

By describing the novel’s voice I’m also describing the main character. She’s pretty much everything a reader needs a character to be – interesting enough to catch our attention, assertive enough to keep it and displaying a depth that promises more to the story if we care to read on. With a character like this, it’s impossible not to read on. She has her weaknesses of course, but all well-rounded characters do. She’s hiding something and this gives her an air of vulnerability that only adds an extra dimension to her otherwise strong, capable and determined character.

The secondary character is just as appealing. Both different in temperament, these two make a terrific team, and their burgeoning relationship in the book is everything you want it to be from the very moment they meet.

Well paced with nail-biting action scenes this novel has a storyline that will have you glued to the page. It manages to stay on this side of believable because at all times the author is demonstrably in control of her material. Immersed in the book, it all seems real and credible and it’s a credit to Jae Baeli’s writing skill. It’s a detective story, action story and romance all in one wild, fulfilling ride. Lots of drama, danger and two sexy women. What more could you want?

Bring together an exciting storyline, a world that is recognizable and real, a bunch of characters to love, hate, laugh at and with as the case may be, and you have all the ingredients of a book well worth reading. I know there’s a second book featuring these characters and I’m looking forward to reading it. If it’s anything like this one, it’s not to be missed.

Review of "Armchair Detective" in Kissed by Venus

The Biggest Lies of All

Up until the day it truly ended, I believed that she was just overwhelmed with things and not strong enough to pull herself out of the abyss. I believed that circumstances beyond our control poisoned all the water in the relationship well. That she lost herself somewhere along the way.  I excused this, even though there should have been a limit to how much she let other people control her happiness and ability to function. I tried not to judge her harshly, but just be supportive, even amid my own fears and unhappiness.

Now, with the new information, it's different in my mind. She so often accused me of being incapable of saying I was wrong. This has never been true and I will illustrate once more here, with irony: I was completely and utterly wrong about her. Who she was. Flat wrong. She had lied from the very first day about what she thought and felt, and never shared her true feelings with me. And she could only see the negative in her private moments, but still talked the talk to my face about the positive. And she distorted so much in her mind--misunderstood so many things, heard something different than what was being said. She had this scary way of contradicting herself even within the same paragraph or sentence. When both of those things could not have been true at once. I saw the disconnect in her reasoning; the nonsensical way she interpreted every detail she focused upon, and how she ignored all the other details that would have balanced it out. I wouldn't have known this if I hadn't been privy to this new information. Information that cuts like a knife, and is so unfair, so heartless, so shallow and petty and riddled with deception and falsehood.

SO when the stressors came along in our relationship, what i was seeing was her REAL self. The one she could no longer hide. The one who could not tell the truth. The one who had no coping skills, could not communicate her feelings or thoughts, could not find strength, but only turn to drugs and alcohol; the one who could not process information in a healthy or rational way. The one who had no clue about my value as a human being or a partner. The one who could look right at me and say she loved me, wanted to be married to me, knowing it wasn't true and she didn't even know how to love. 

That was the most mammoth lie of all. To let someone think you love them when you don't. To go along with each and every stage in a growing relationship, and never utter a word of what you were really feeling and thinking. To let that other person plan her life according to that promise you gave her. To allow that person to sacrifice herself to you, believing that it was real. All a lie. 

How did I not feel that? Maybe I did, but just dismissed it as the result of the outside stressors. Now i see. I spent a year of my life on this person who made the sincerity of my heart a falsehood. And then followed it up with still more falsehood when it was time to step up and have some integrity and own her mistakes. Instead, she tried to shift that blame onto the person who tried to love her, tried to help her and was always 100% honest about everything. 

What you gave in return were lies. All lies.

The Biggest Lies of All