Fun Girl Tell All

“Some choices we live not only once but a thousand times over, remembering them for the rest of our lives.” - Richard Bach

We aren't the first nor will we be the last to take to the Internet and display all the dirty laundry about an ex. Most people sit at home with a pint or two of ice cream, some pizza and watch a marathon of sappy chick flicks. Then go the gym and attempt to loss the fifteen pounds they gained during the heartbreak depression. We took a different approach, that didn't include food binges, but did include a few romantic movies.
Ultimately what defines who you are as a person is how you act when faced with an emotional bulldozer. Some sit back and hope that the pain will go away with time, they don't question the masochist because they still fear him, they find someone else to care for them and they pretend all is well with the world again. Then there are the daredevils, the underdogs, that instead of letting it go and walking away with their head down, take their pain a few steps further and kick some ass. Isn't the definition of a fun girl someone who takes risks, who is a daredevil not just in bed, but also in life? Fun girls have a lifetime guarantee and until you burn them they will keep your dirty secrets locked. But, be warned we don't play fair, but then you should know that already, wasn't that the allure to begin with?
The fun girl always seems to know all the juicy, forbidden secrets. All the quirks, fantasies, desire that the Plain Jane wife may never know. There is something to be said for being the keeper of these naughty thoughts. I've got nothing to lose here and whether you believe what I might disclose is up to you, but I'm sure it will get you thinking about how well do you really know your spouse.
We can live our whole life with someone and never really know them. Everyone has secrets or little white lies and yes every guy (regardless of if they are married) still watches porn. Really what's so bad about that? You can't honestly expect sleeping with the same person for the next thirty or forty years isn't going to get boring.
There is a perfect storm brewing, yet I'm in a permanent meditative bliss. I'm reminded of the scene in Office Space where Peter is sleeping and the phone keeps ringing and he's oblivious to the worlds wants.
Due to recent life altering revelations, I've been wondering why it is that I willingly allowed masochists into my life. Was it because of my youth? If I knew from the start that something was off, why did I continue to return for more pain? In relationships have I been chasing the rush just as I obsess over the newest Mulberry bag? But, once the thrill of the chase is gone the reality of the forbidden fruit is all too relevant.
When faced with an emotional uphill battle why do we cling to false hope? To a past that never existed and put a heavy weight on someone who thrives off of pain and power mind games.
Who was I then? Why did I think it was normal and furthermore why did I continue to let the masochist control my thoughts? Was there ever a time when it was real? When it wasn't all smoke and mirrors? I ask these questions and I suppose I hold on to this example of an s-m relationship because it's not the norm for me. Sure a part of me got off on the thrill and flirt hunt. The encoded conversations, the forbidden fruit. But, was it nothing more than a past time. Something to do while waiting for the next best object of my affection to walk by.
What is it about getting married that all of a sudden makes you a jealous psycho? Do we as a society fear growing old alone so much that we claim ownership of whoever expresses interest in us and yet by doing this we lose our self-confidence and become jealous psychos? To the point that we religiously check our spouse’s emails, calls, credit card bills, because we fear someone better might come along and then the fairytale dream will shatter? Yet by doing these things and acting more like a second mother than a lover we are in reality driving them to find comfort with a "fun girl or boy."
In recent days, I am reminded that M and company are not my friends, never were I suppose. It's a surreal feeling at times. When I think back to a life once lived I tend to forget this major fact. There will always be pieces of my past in the present and future. Which are a blessing and a curse, knowing that I can never ever truly be free from the masochists. I wonder if I am the masochist now, by continue to throw fuel into the fire. The past will never truly die, but then maybe it never was meant to.
Kate