Is Three Too Many?

Threesomes...

I've been asked to be a part of a threesome several times in my life. I'm very open minded, I'm very sexual, I'm very attractive and the most important factor when it comes to this: I'm flexible and approachable.

Flexibility and being approachable by no means results in me saying yes.

For the most part, I've been asked to be part of threesomes where the couple wanted me as the visiting third party. Only once did I consider inviting someone else to share the person that I was with. It didn't happen but I considered it long and hard.

Threesomes, people make them sound like so much fun, like it's so easy, like you wake up the next day and you all share pancakes together and giggle over blueberry syrup and coffee... They could be fun...

I was at a concert in San Francisco on Friday night and a couple asked if 'we were open to threesomes cause they are very open minded'... And every single time, I feel a little bit of shock...


*Currently listening to Elevator Love Letter by Stars*

Random + Words.

He doesn't believe the words I say. To him, they're just words. I don't believe the words he says. To me, they're just words.

Where do we meet? Where is the middle?

Am I beginning to allow myself to hope again?


Random: R, S and I are hitting the road today. We're driving up to San Francisco for a concert going on tonight. The Wallpapers are supposed to be amazing live. We'll be making our way back to LA like travelling happy gypsies, stopping wherever, possibly wine-tasting, causing some delicious trouble along the coast... It feels like this is exactly what I need right now: Fresh air and my girls.

See you all on Monday!

*Currently listening to Going in Circles by The Friends of Distinction*

Surprise! And There It Is.

I once told the broadcaster who delivers the goods in technicolor that my favorite poem is Poem Number 20 by Pablo Neruda.

He seemed to be paying attention.

Sometimes, I find myself surprised by the tenacity exhibited by certain people of certain charms.

He leaves encrypted messages, a game we used to play, what feels like a million years ago. And sometimes, I find myself still looking for these messages. And sometimes, I find myself, surprised, to find them there.

And all I can respond is: ♥

Poema, de dos amantes extraños. De dos mundos perdidos. Un poema. Y ellos nunca se han tocado.

*Currently listening to Strangers on a Train by Lovage*

Welcome. Come In. If You'd Like.

I read this somewhere yesterday:

'If what you really want is to come in, please do. The doors are open for you. If you decide you want to leave, it's okay. Time will tell. But if you leave, please leave the door open, there are others who want to come in too.'
-Unknown Source

I can't love you if you don't want to be loved...

A thought crossed my mind: Maybe he's just jaded. Perhaps that's why he wont come in or let me in? Maybe it's just me he doesn't want. Eventually it wont matter anymore.

A post-secret for me. Thank you. Some do want to come in.

*Currently listening to Her Beautiful Ideas by The Guggenheim Grotto*

Love. For No Reason.

♥

My Problem Is Stupid.

So here's my problem: Everything is fine until the cravings kick in. When I've had some of him, I seem to function well. I don't miss anything, I don't feel any uncertainties, the world makes sense and everything moves in a synchronized manner, like the dancers at a cabaret show, in tune, right on the beat, fluid.

I've decided his number will never be on my phone for too long. As soon as a conversation has ended, I delete it. As soon as the last text message has been sent, I get rid of it... So that temptation is never there, so I'm not the first to give in, as to prevent myself from falling into the pit of darkness that comes every time I put my feelings on the line and get shut down. It works on his time and I'm on the side line> I'm almost the observer. I'm not even a character in this story, the story which is in fact mine.

It's like a drug, like a bad habit, like a slow descent into a mess that isn't mine.

'You are my drug. I anticipate seeing you - then I ride the high until you exit my car. The comedown is slow...but it hits hard, waiting for another text message, trying not to call you sounding desperate for a fix. And when I finally break down and call, and you brush me off as sweet as you know how, that's when I crash. And hate myself for craving you like I do.'

- R.C.

Today, it feels like I'm in rehab. I have been doing well. The trick is to be disciplined and keep my emotions and actions in check. The trick is to not let my guard down. The trick is to say no. The trick is not to hope. Hope is an hallucination, a distortion of the truth. He's never going to want what I want, he's never going to be there when I need him to. To hope is to fail. The trick is to believe what I know, that I deserve more, that there's more being offered to me, so I have to look away and take what's coming my way.


*Currently listening to Stylo by Gorillaz*

The Horse & The Sheep

Horse: My favorite word is disingenuous.

Sheep: My favorite word is iridescent.

Horse: I dare you to cut me loose.

Sheep: ¿Sabes que te voy a querer por el resto de mi vida?

Horse: Are we still keeping score?

Sheep: No, I'm just a sheep, The Little Magnificent.

'Toma un segundo para imaginar a un bosque mágico en el que yo te espero en mis sueños. Alli te beso y te pido que te quedes a mi lado. Una estrella distante, pero en el bosque encantado esa estrella se vuelve hombre y ese hombre me toma en sus brazos y me hace suya. No es nada sexual, tu eres mi amigo. Pero en ese bosque te pertenezco completamente. Alli, soy tuya y tu mio, nunca te tengo que perder.

Al amanecer, estoy en mi cama, he dejado el bosque pero tu sigues en mis pensamientos. Pienso en la estrella. Y en la caricias cálidas que han quedado en mi piel.'

- El Bosque Encantado, MNJG

*Currently listening to Maybe Tomorrow by Pretty Lights*

It's Just How It Is.

On my 30th birthday, I gifted myself with quitting cigarettes. It’s been a week and I haven’t missed it. I keep thinking I’ll feel the cravings at any given moment but they haven’t yet come. I guess some things are meant to be.

On the other hand, I’ve found myself missing something I never had to begin with. Why do I miss him? In my logical mind, it just doesn’t make sense. But then again, I wanted it to be… But I guess some things are not meant to be.

My life will change today and I am prepared for whatever may come. Whatever is of no use will have to go, maybe not immediately, for I’m not that strong, but it will definitely happen and in the meantime, those who do want to be of use, get closer and closer… I feel like I’m ready to accept all the good.

Goodness isn’t a reward, it is simply what I deserve.



*Currently listening to Islands by The XX*

Blue. Very Blue.

I thought that maybe if I was sweet and patient that would make a difference. I was told to communicate how I felt every step of the way, that was advice given to me by a dear friend, she said ‘he can’t read your mind so always tell him how you feel’. I did.

I told him how I felt every step of the way.

I backed up when I felt like he might need some space. I was there when it felt like he might need a friend. I gave it my best.

This doesn’t happen often. I’m used to taking and not giving until I feel safe. He never made me feel safe but I wanted him anyway. I wanted him deeply.

I also knew this day would come. When enough should be enough. I didn’t ask for much, but nothing is not acceptable, not when I have given so much.

I thought but I was wrong. Blue doesn’t suit me and I can’t see clearly with all these tears in the way.

Blue, please turn yellow, like the sun, missing on this dark, gloomy day.



*Currently listening to Love Me or Leave Me by Billie Holiday*

When Things Were Simple.

Every summer, my parents would put me on a plane to Colombia where I would spend 3 glorious months with my grandma and uncle. I remember the careless days of dance classes at the local dance studio, playing hide and seek with the kids on the street, eating hotdogs sitting on the front yard and swimming until my fingers were prune-like. My cousins would spend the weekends with me and every Sunday, the whole family would go to our family’s country home where we’d gather for lunch together, usually sancocho, fritanga, asadito and refajo.

Every year that came, as we got closer to the summertime, my excitement would grow. I loved those summers in Colombia, I loved the carelessness, although back then, I didn’t know what being careless was at all.

Eventually everything changed. At the age of 12, I was sent to Colombia to go to school and experience high school there, and then came college and my return to the States, eventually I moved out on my own, there was the matter of my identity, Who am I? What do I want for my life? Love, bills, men, sex, a career, a job, social responsibilities, ethical choices, moral survival.

Other times were more simple, but I wont say today isn’t more exciting.

Cheers to the world, my world.


*Currently listening to Better Thing by Passion Pit*