sunny blizzard

~E~ I trudged home the long four blocks from school, not really enjoying the sunshine because I was hot and tired. Florida Blvd., that long long block, was the hardest. That street seemed like it would never end. Then came the shortest block, and finally the long haul down Welby Lane before I got to my street. I turned the corner, striding up the hill and then running the last few steps before I leaped onto the porch. Pushing the door open, I looked up to see that the living room was empty. I entered the kitchen and no one was there, either. After quickly checking all the bedrooms I started to feel my throat tighten up. Nobody was home. Frightened that anyone could look in the window and see me, I huddled under the large picture window in the living room. I'd peek my eyes up over the window sill looking for a familiar car coming down the road, or hoping a sibling would show up soon but I knew they got out of school a half hour after I did. Whenever a strange car would drive by, I...

~E~ I think that guys who are afraid of the big hairy feminists, and think they are all ebil man-haters, are just afraid of being called on their shit. They'll have to actually stop and think about their behavior once in a while, and god, what a drag that is.

~E~ I hate it when you run into someone you haven't seen for a few years and you see that look in their eyes as they think "my god she's gained weight" and you can see them trying to look you up and down without you noticing. I hate not understanding something when it seems like everyone else 'gets it'. I hate not making more time for writing and other things that make me feel like I've accomplished something. Um, I can't think of much more. I guess I don't hate much, except for the obvious things that everyone hates, like murder. I also wonder why the ex was taking photos of my car with his cell phone today when I dropped off daughter. OK, done.

~E~ Someone was a bit surprised that I made public my last several entries. My reasoning is, I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't, I have nothing to be ashamed of. My silence will do nothing but protect the assholes that do this sort of thing. They are the ones who should be shamed, loudly and vocally. If I knew all their names, I would post them. I only know one, the guy in middle school who grabbed my breast. Martin Yngsdahl. Really, to hell with these guys who just prey on women and girls. To hell with them, and utter shame to them.

I decide I would like to start dating again. I am shocked at myself, but glad. I ask everyone I know where they met their significant other. They almost all say 'online dating'. I think about it for a couple of months and give it a shot. Within two weeks I start emailing a really funny and interesting guy. A month or two later, we meet in person and I immediately feel comfortable with him. I am shocked at myself, but glad. We hit it off and spend all kinds of time together. I have new rules for myself and relationships. I believe they will serve me well. With Al, I really have nothing to worry about. And wow. He rocks my world. Hanging out is good. Talking is good. Learning about each other's interests is good. Sex is good. Holy crap, it can be good! I can actually feel desire for someone. I have the space and the respect to actually feel desire for someone!! I get to choose whether I want sex or not and what can be hotter than that?? It's amazing. Absolutely amazing. I...

I'm finally divorced. I hate men. I hate men. I hate men. For three years I avoid all contact with men. I hate them. I do not trust them. I do a lot of thinking and learning and growing. I get a great job but panic a bit at the thought of working with men. It turns out alright. Except for one guy who has a tendency to yell and swear on the phone sometimes (not to me, I overhear it), which freaks me the hell out. I learn that he's a decent guy and his yelling and swearing is about him, not me. I put on a good face and no one has a clue. Funny that. How many people do you interact with every day have that mask that hides everything. Everyone thinks everything is great and normal. There is so much hurt out there. I wish men could understand this. This. This is why so many women are 'careful', and 'hesitant'. We don't know which kind of guy you are.

I'm married. The counselor just does. not. get. it. Her solution for us is this: He has to try a little harder to be nice to me. I have to initiate sex a certain number of times per week. What. The. Hell.

I'm married. It's just rape. I fucking hate him. He forces me to fuck him. I grit my teeth and do the things that I know will get it over with sooner. He, in his arrogance, thinks I'm doing it for him. When I have the strength to resist, he screams at me for hours, literally 2,3,4 hours. I'm a bitch. Why can't I show him how much I love him? I'm selfish. I'm cold. I need to have sex with him to prove how much I love him. But I don't, I hate him. The kids can surely hear this. It's 2 am and they are in bed.

I'm married. I've given birth four weeks ago, by C-section. Major surgery. He insists we have sex, by this time I'm too afraid of him to say anything. It hurts. Doctors advise no sex for 6-8 weeks after giving birth. When I supply this information at a counseling session, he looks at me and asks why I didn't say anything.

I am married He starts yelling at me one day because he 'left me alone for one day and I didn't initiate sex'. He was testing me. What I had felt that day was "thank god he's leaving me alone."

I'm married. He fondles and gropes all day long. He is full of sexual innuendo. He wants sex all the time. I was never taught that I could say no, or how to say no. I find strange passive-aggressive ways to avoid it. I stay up really late, knowing that when I go to bed he'll want to have sex. Sometimes I enjoy it. Sometimes I endure it.

I've recently begun dating my eventually -to-be husband. I indicate an interest in sex. He bursts out with "Is that all that matters to you, getting laid?????" He does it anyway. Am I supposed to feel ashamed?

Fourteen years old. I ride my bike to a local park and find a bench to sit on. I enjoy the beautiful sunshine, the lake in front of me, I feel really good. A man rides up on his bike and lays out his towel about 100 feet in front of me. He lays down with his legs facing me. I can see his penis and testicles. I am embarrassed for him. I am embarrassed for myself. I eventually leave, my day ruined. It is years before I realize he did this on purpose.

Thirteen years old. I ride my bike around a LOT. As I wait on a corner for traffic to pass, a guy yells out the window "Get some clothes on!!" I have on shorts and a bikini top. Too many times to count I hear, "Nice ass!!" "Wanna fuck?" and various whistles and obscene gestures.

Eleven years old. I'm walking down the hallway at school. A boy reaches out and grabs my breast, hard, as he smirks at me. I look down and keep walking, shocked. I don't tell anyone. Nothing will happen. It's not the last time.

Ten years old. Walking home from school with my friend. We have our arms flung around each other. Middle schoolers walk behind us, calling out "Lezzies!! You are lezzies!!" We glance at each other guiltily and when it seems like the right moment, we 'casually' take our arms down and keep walking.

~E~ Imagine that, Walgreens has a huge ' sexual wellness ' section. Sex toys galore. Have fun shopping. I prefer "A Woman's Touch" , myself. I dare you not to click on the links.

~E~ I thought I knew how to be straightforward. I thought I was getting a good handle on how to communicate well. I was apparently all wrong.

~E~ This made me laugh hysterically, which is exactly what I needed today. No kittens were harmed in the filming of this video.

~E~ How many 12-year-olds want to wear Dora the Explorer bathing suits? Not many, I fear. How many 12-year-olds fit into junior size swimming suits? Not many, I fear yet again. Solution? MAKE one!! Easier said than done. It's June, right? Apparently sewing patterns, like clothing, run in a strange cycle and it's about impossible to find a pattern for a swimsuit in June. We finally found one that was slightly acceptable - and the only suit pattern in the whole store - so we went to town with that one. Daughter chose the fabric and we headed home to cut. I spent the evening cutting, pinning and sewing . Tonight I finished the bottom. I figured I could sew the sides shut since the original pattern was a bit too 'old' for Daughter. Ha! And HA again! I canNOT believe this pattern was for a woman's size 6. Daughter is a very slender KID and the bottoms were so tiny even she was embarrassed. The sides don't come anywhere near touching, so forget about sewing them to...

~E~ I got to see the Eiffel Tower! Red Sonja's house You are my sunshine, my only sunshine... Quack quack quack quack quack quack Open wide, my dearies. One of the original pub signs from our fair city, first hung up in 1858, ten years after we became a state. True story. Hello?