dreaming demons - true story #3

When I write about the experience it seems like it happened in a blink.  This kept going for years, being screamed at, shaken, sat on, pinned down, clawed at, blankets dragged off me, the feeling of being dragged off my bed.  Sensing the dark shadow standing in the corner of my room watching me, waiting for me to fall asleep.  Some times I would wake, immobile, hearing urgent pounding on the front door.  Knowing who ever it was wasn't safe to let if but they were insistent.  It almost sounded like my abusive ex boyfriend.  When I would finally be able to move and check the front door there was no one there.

I used to have my boyfriend stay over as often as he could so I could sleep.  I would still feel the dark presence in the room watching me and the hairs on the back of my neck would stand up.  I would tell my boyfriend to turn on the light and sleep that way.  He couldn't sense anything in the room yet was patient and tolerant of my panicked ways.  The screaming, shaking and being sat on never happened when my boyfriend was there.
One night while lying next to my boyfriend I had a nightmare.  Not something I have often.  In this dream I was in Southland, shopping for clothes and noticed my ex boyfriend stalking and spying on me from behind clothes racks.  I tried to get away from him, trying to hide, out run and out smart him.  I got to the front of the shopping center and saw a group of bikers and decided to ask them to protect me.  The agree and we all road off together on their Harley's.  I knew my boyfriend would not be able to keep up because he had no transport.  They took me to the beach, Edithvale if recall, and we were swimming in the sea.  I bobbed under the water and the white cold arm of my ex boyfriend reached in to grab me.  He had found me at the beach and managed to get to me through all the bikers.
I woke, sitting bolt up right, I was cold to touch even though it was 30degrees and my heart skipped a beat before making up for lost time.  I woke my boyfriend by waking with such a fright, he turned the light on, asked me what happened.  I couldn't talk.  I just said I had a bad dream and then tossed and turned for a while before finally falling back to sleep.

A couple of weeks later I got a phone call from my ex's dad telling me he was dead, killed by a road train months ago.  It had taken the dad a long time to find me to give me the news. 

After years of what I called 'haunting' I had become an insomniac who couldn't stay awake during the day.  I was losing weight, not eating, only drinking coffee (like someone from Nightmare on Elm Street - ironically I lived on Elm Road at the time).  I saw a doctor, not telling him any of strange things that were happening (guess I still believe I was cracking up), only told him that I couldn't sleep and wasn't coping with life.  He told me I was having a nervous breakdown, probably brought on by my anorexia.  I told the doctor I wasn't anorexic, as in starving myself because I thought I was fat.  I simply couldn't eat because I was too stressed.  He told me  to go home and eat proper meals, breakfast, lunch and dinner for two weeks in a row and see if I felt better.  I felt less depressed when I ate for two weeks but nothing else changed.

One night I was asleep and woke to sensation of my blankets being pulled off me.  I froze, too afraid to move.  Then something grabbed my ankles and began dragging me off the foot of the bed.  They dragged me slowly but didn't stop when I got to the foot of the bed.  I hit the floor with a thud which actually woke me.  When I went to lash out at what ever had dragged me off the bed, my left arm touched my blanket which was still on me.  Turning the light on, I found that I was still in my bed tucked snugly under my covers.  I hadn't moved and been dragged off the bed.  It had been a dream.  This made me wonder, of course, had everything else just been a dream?

A couple of weeks later my flat mate got up one morning looking white as a ghost.  I asked him what happened and he told me he woke but couldn't move and he was being sat on while being hit around the face.  He had been able to open his eyes and see a lady on him.  I had always been on my left side facing the wall unable to open my eyes.  He could tell by my expression I knew what he was talking about and I confessed that this had been happening to me for years.

However, it only happened to him once and soon stopped with me too.  When I moved out what ever it was did not follow me or come with me.  Whether it was nightmares or bad dreams, caused by stressed and an over active imagination, out of body experiences or some dark force trying to take me to the dark side....  I don't know.  All I know is it started in that place and stopped when I left.  Never to happen again.

http://www.castleofspirits.com/sleepparalysis.html

dreaming demons - true story #2

It didn't happen again the following night.

It happened a couple of nights later.  It started off exactly the same.  Me waking and not being able to move.  Lying there willing myself to open my eyes and move my body.  But I couldn't.

The screaming in my ear started again and the shaking.  This time the screaming and the shaking were more forceful and I felt very afraid.  They stopped as suddenly as they started and when I could move I turned on my bedside lamp and again the clock said 3am.  That made my heart skip a beat and I wondered what was going on and what was the significance of the time.

I lay in bed with the light on for a very long time unable to get back to sleep.  Eventually I dosed off but kept waking, afraid of hearing the scream again.

When I woke in the morning I was so tired from my bad sleep.

Things began to get worse and more frequent.  I began to wake in the middle of the night with a feeling of being pinned down.  Something heavy sitting on my body, pinning my arms and legs down.  Other times I woke to the feeling of a cat scratching at my feet.  I would turn off the light and feel a dark presence standing in the corner of the room watching me, waiting for me to doze off.  This ominous presence got stronger and stronger until eventually it was always there and I couldn't sleep.  Even sleeping with the light on didn't stop the screaming in my ears and something shaking me.

I began drinking copious amounts of coffee and trying to keep myself awake until past 3am, since this was the time the screaming kept happening.

Being so tired all the time I began to fall asleep during the day.  The screaming started happening then too.  Then I started being dragged off my bed while I slept.  I would wake to feel the covers moving off me very slowly and my body being dragged towards the end of the bed.  Waking before I actually fell, I would see the time said 3am.

I asked friends what was happening to me.  Some who believe in out body experiences told me the dark spirit was waiting for me to leave my body so it could possess my body.  They told me there was a good spirit watching over me keeping me safe and making sure I got back into my body before the dark spirit did.  The feeling of being dragged off the bed was symbolic of me leaving my earthly body.

Others thought it might be the spirit of my dead ex boyfriend coming back to haunt me and try and take me with him.

I began to lose weight, was unable to sleep at night time and unable to stay awake during the day.  I would have friends come and stay over at night time to keep me safe and while the screaming didn't happen while they were there, the feeling of something dark standing over me prevailed.

dreaming demons - true story

The first time it happened ..

I woke in the middle of the night, awake yet completely unable to move.  I was told this is just sleep paralyzes, when your body prevents you from hurting yourself by making chemicals in the brain, this stops you thrashing about during your dreams and hurting yourself or others.  Some times you can wake but your body is still paralyzed.  It wears off and you're back to normal.

I didn't know that at the time.  I was younger and didn't know what was happening.  Being awake and unable to open my eyes or move scared the hell out of me.

Suddenly there was this deftly noise in my ears, a scream, but outer worldly.  Like nothing I'd ever heard before.  I froze and my blood ran cold.  My heart skipped a beat.  When it began beating again it was pounding a mile a minute and I still couldn't move.

The screaming was accompanied by my body being furiously shaken as though something was trying to wake me.  I still couldn't move.

Then the screaming stopped, the shaking stopped and I could open my eyes.  It was dark all around me but I knew I was facing the wall.  I could feel my nose pressed up against it.

Slowly I was able to move my head, then my limbs until I could finally turn, sit up and switch the bedside lamp on.  My bedside clock said 3am.  The room was empty.  Nothing and no-one there.  Just me and my heart beating a mile a minute.  I was still scared out of my wits wondering what had just happened.  Too afraid to turn the light off and go back to sleep.  I settled for sleeping with the light on.

This strange incident became almost a nightly occurrence and began to change (but more about that some other time).   I just assumed I was going insane.  It started when I moved into the apartment and stopped when I moved out.  The previous tenants never had anything like this happen to them.


To this day I still don't understand what it was I heard or what was happening all those years ago.

drunken romance

"As our romantic dinners progressed invariably the level of alcohol consumption rose steadily, he’d begin to warm up and soften up and open up, where by things would get considerably worse.  The topic would then become drunken sexual flirtations where he would say un-romantic things like, “I can’t wait to get you home rip your clothes off and pound you.”  Like I was a piece of meat and he was a butcher.  Comments made were about him and what he’d like to do to me to get his rocks off.  Never were they about how I made him feel, how sexy I was or what he’d like to do for me and why – certainly it was never about wanting to please me because his love for me was so great that he lived his life to do so.  It was all about servicing him.  I’d cringe and feel panic rising deep in my stomach knowing that when we got home he intended to become octoman, with little foreplay or regard for whether I was turned on or not.  Attempts at twisting his un-romantic and rather crude comments into something more affectionate, flirtatious or about the both of us in his sexual encounter were unsuccessful. 
I’d find myself ordering more wine to fill him so that he’d be so drunk he’d pass out when we got home.  While I would stop drinking altogether.  I needed to sober up and have my whits about me.  The good news: by the time he began his sexual flirtations he was pretty far gone already, otherwise he’d never have brought up anything as personal as sex at a restaurant, lest anyone should over hear our conversation.  So sadly, even our romantic dinners of spending quality time alone together tended to be a flop.  The irony, we got along well enough to want to do them together (though I dare say it the great food we craved more than the great company).  And, the intentions and reasons behind the dinner were still an important factor.  We wanted to love each other.  We just couldn’t do it and didn’t know how." KD

recommendations

"I guess I just wanted to have him realise that telling me how to do things felt like put-downs and I wanted him to stop and never do it again. Sure, he said they were recommendations, then why get so angry over a recommendation? And he always got angry when he made a recommendation and I chose not to do it. His anger suggested to me that he was giving more than a recommendation, he was giving an order, a command, and getting angry when I wasn’t following orders. I was an adult and didn’t have to take orders from him. Why couldn’t he see that and just stop doing it. In any case, why couldn’t he just learn that I never listened to his recommendations (orders) and just give it up?" KD

sex and the tampon

A funny story.

When times get hard and I question why I am with Mr on again off again, so much frustration, I think back to when we met.  We met at a night club where I was dancing and he was an intended one night stand.  Not because that was what I wanted but because it was all guys ever wanted.  Why would he be different and what difference did it make?  I was grieving over lost love and felt like something fun to take my mind off the empty house that waited for me.

We drive back to my joint and straight away I can tell he is different to other guys.  He is asking about my place, looking around, exploring, picking up a silastic gun and asking who's it is.  When I tell him it's mine he gives me an admiring grin.  I pour us vodka to drink and we drink on a mattress in the lounge room. When he does approach me he is sweet and caring.  As we kiss he senses my nervousness and says “Don’t be shy”.  He slowly undress me.  Doesn’t just get right to it.  He takes his time, touching, kissing exploring.  When he removes my knickers he stops and stares in awe.  He tells me I've the best pussy he’s ever seen.  Well, if he says so.  When I reach down to feel his groin I notice it is smooth and soft so I whip the covers back and pop down for a better inspection.  His body is hairless except for a small crop of hair around his penis.  His penis is hard yet smooth and his balls are like silk.  I am instantly as attracted to his groinage as he is to mine.

We spend the night fornicating and have a pleasurable enough time, though he doesn't bring me to climax, both falling asleep in a tipsy stupor.  When we wake in the morning we shower together and he lifts me up, pushes me against the shower wall and we do it again, tree trunk style.  I am impressed with his strength and his muscle tone.

Later on we’re dressed and sitting in my lounge room chatting.  I can’t help but notice he’s not chewing at the bit to escape.  He is happily spending time with me, not trying to do a runner.

Suddenly I burst out, “Oh shit” and go running to the bath room.  I remembered I have a tampon inside me.  My period was due any day and I put the tampon in the night before just in case I my period came while I was dancing.  Even though my period never came I forgot all about the tampon and totally forgot to take it out.  Reaching for it I find it has been pushed too far in from our fornicating and I cannot reach it.

Embarrassed I got out and tell him, “I have to go to the doctors”, thinking, if he wants to escape now is his chance to run.  He's not interested in doing a runner.  He wants to know why I need to go to the doctors and I tell him.  I’m expecting him to burst out laughing and think I am an absolute dork.  Instead he says he’ll come with me to the doctors.  We end up spending the day together.

With a beginning like that it is not hard to see why I deal with all the shit.

memories are funny things

Memories are funny things.  You can't quite recall them yet they exist.

Think of the last mind blowing sex you had?  You can maybe recall where, when, with whom.  What you were wearing or not wearing, what the temperature was like.  You know it was good.  Yet you can't really recall how it felt when you climaxed.  How awesome it was.

What about the time you broke your arm or cut the tips of your fingers off while using a carving knife.  Or labour.  You know it hurt.  You remember it hurt.  And yet you cannot recall the pain vividly.  It is now a fleeting memory that you know happened, yet cannot feel.

When I look back through photo albums I see pictures that trigger a memory.  I remember that party.  I remember how drunk I got and threw up everywhere.  I remember that really gorgeous guy I knew.  He looks good in the photo I took of him.  Yet to close my eyes and recall his voice or his smile or a conversation we had.  They memories don't come.  I know I was sad when he left.  Devastated.  Gut wrenching crushed.  I can recall how I cried and screamed for him to return, to come back to me.

Now I think of it, I know I was sad.  I still miss him.  Or the person he was back then.  Yet I cannot recall the intimate moments with him.  The last time we made love - except that I cried because I knew it was our last time together.

Parents who take photos of babies because they want to remember how tiny their newborn baby is, or how cute their 2year old, or their child's first day at school.  Looking back at the photos seeing the pictures takes you back in time for a minute although you cannot recall how tiny your newborn baby was or how they sounded when they cried in the middle of the night.  Or all the cute, funny, new things your 2year old said and did.

Memories of pain fade away so we don't spend the rest of life feeling that pain.  Labour is forgotten so a mother will want to do it again.  Sex is forgotten so we'll want to enjoy sex again and again.

Then when we pass all our memories go with us.  People will look back on a photo of great granddad standing tall and proud, with no idea what was going on at the time the photo was taken.  Was he a happy and content man or did he have unfulfilled dreams.

Memories are funny things...

backward way of advertising

Sex sells.  We’ve all heard that before.  As a female I hear it a lot from people justifying yet another sexualised advert, show or video clip.

“Men are more visual”

“Men are more aroused by what they see”(as though this is a good thing!)

“When men like what they see they buy something”

“Women are not as visual which is why ads are not aimed at them”

There are flaws with this theory.

#1: prove to me that men are more visual.  From where I stand I am just as visual as any man I know.  You show me an ad with a hunky man compared to an ad with a regular man and I know which ad I prefer, I also know which product would appeal to me more.   When I see a half naked man I pause to look.  When I see a hot man I turn my head to watch him pass.  I may not get sexually aroused by what I see, like I’m told men do (who says this is a good thing anyway?), though I still like what I see, I'm still visual and still want to see more.

To prove the point the recent Old Spice ad with the hunky bloke asking ladies to “look at your man, now look back at me” was a mega hit!  So is it really that women are not as visual as men… or just male CEO”s trying to convince us that women aren’t as visual.  In truth I think men fear being sex objects as much as women don’t like being sexualized.  They fear women ogling men as much as they enjoy the liberty of ogling women.

#2: is it a good thing to be arousing all the boys and men in our society?  It is no wonder that sex addiction in western societies is on the increase!  As soon as your old enough to see you learn sex is the MUST HAVE thing of the decade.  Boys must have it.  Girls must be it.

[Incidentally sex addiction only occurs in counties with overt and blatant sexualization of its people – experts equates this to sex addiction not being a real condition and that it is really about sexualization being easily accessible.  The term sex addiction is just an excuse for lack of control. I wonder why men want to give their control away so easily?]

#3: I’ve been told sex sells ads geared towards women have been tried yet fail dismally.  Ok.  I’ve lived a number of years on this planet and in my life time I’ve seen only a handful of sex sells ads geared towards women.  One of which (about oranges and male butts with the slogan “Just squeeze”) was banned because men didn’t like its sexual connotations.  Where as an ad with the slogan “Go for the lemon” about a barmaid in a mini reaching for a lemon is perfectly acceptable by men for its sexual connotations (slightly hypocritical and one sided I think).

I once dated a guy who would fly into a rage any time there was a hunky man on TV, accusing me of wanting to screw the guy – and this wasn’t even sexualized men on TV - while he openly ogled females on TV.  Perhaps if the tables were turned and ads were aimed at women this is what we’d have to contend with.  Guys constantly feeling insecure about themselves because the imagines of hunky men make them feel less of a man.  Men don’t seem to realize this is how women feel.  Or they don’t care or thinks it’s normal.

We think sexualised ads aimed at boys and men are ok, normal, alright, necessary.  And I say boys because our sons are privy to these images.  You can't leave your house without seeing some sexy half naked chick somewhere, on a billboard, a bus, a bumper sticker, magazines stands.

"I see half naked girls... they're every where"

#4 if men already have high libidos while women have low libidos and men wish women had higher libidos, would it not make more sense to reverse the roles and create ads targeted AT women instead of men?  Why keep arousing men with titillating ads when their libidos are already high?  Why refuse to arouse women with ads geared towards them when men wish women had higher libidos?

I know it's also a spending thing and men have more money than women.  There is more money to be made from men which is another reason for sex sells being geared towards them and not us.

I guess sexualization is about power.  You can’t have power as a man while you’re a sex object and it goes to say that women cannot have power while we are being sexualized.  It is safe when you think about it, to keep women sexualized while refusing to sexualize men.  If men were as sexualized as women we’d be equal and thus the power would shift.  Just an idea.

At the same time sexulization takes away a man's power to choose weather to be aroused or not.  The simple fact that sex addiction is common in westernized civilizations shows men out of control.  Perhaps sexulization is not 'more power to men' after all.

more popular than you think

when i was in school i had no idea anyone fancied me.  i was so involved with my friends and my interests i didn't pay attention to anyone who might have liked me.  at the same time i assumed no boy at my school like me enough to want to be my boyfriend or ask me out.  this was ok.  i liked boys, plenty of them, yet not enough to want to go out with them.  i went on dates here and there and had lots of passing crushes, had male friends and flirted with boys i liked. i was in the arty crowd.  i sang and danced and painted murals on the school walls.

after i left school is when i found out i had admirers.  people started to tell me things i hadn't realised.  this boy or that boy had a crush on me back then.  one time i was on a train years after i'd left school and this boy comes up to me saying my name asking me if went to such n such school.  yes.  he tells me he was in such n such class.  do i remember him?  turns out he knew me from grade primary school!  he remembered me all those years later.  i did remember him.  i had liked him back then.  turns out he had liked me too.  we phoned each other a couple of times after that and met up once.  nothing came of it.

you're probably going through school thinking no-one likes you or gives a shit.  chances are some one does.

train story .. sick girl

A young girl was sick on the train.  16 or 17 years old maybe.  She was with her boyfriend and he was very supportive.  "It's o.k., don't worry, these things happen..."  He grabbed a newspaper to help clean and cover the mess.  All the while speaking kindly and positive  to her.  He told her to wait until we all got off the train at Flinders St., give herself time to recover before getting up.

Wonder what made her ill?  The boy was so loving, caring and supportive.

marriage is unfair

I'm not like most women I know.  Not that I've asked that many if they share this particular point of view.  Maybe many women feel this way and I just don't know it.
I think marriage is unfair for women when it comes to nudity.  When a women gets married her husband is pretty much the last man she'll ever see naked for the rest of her life (or marriage - which ever comes first).  Unless she has affairs maybe.
For men it doesn't matter that they're married.  They will still get to see many many more nude women for the remainder of their lives.  Even if a man doesn't subscribe to Playboy, watch porn or visit strip joints, he will still see loads of nude women.  On TV there is stacks of one sided nudity and plenty of female actresses willing to get their gear off for a price.
Married couples only need to sit and watch TV or movies together for this to be realised.  While Mrs Wife won't see another penis for the remainder of her marriage husband will have an eye full of as many naked women as TV will allow.  Devils Advocate is a prime example.
You only need consider the video Girls on Film (the uncut version) to see what I'm talking about.
Now where is my female equivalent to that video?  Where is my female equivalent to Devils Advocate?  Where are my naked men to titillate and tantalize my senses?
No.  I'm female.  So I'll be subject to has many naked females and I can (or can't) stand while Mr Husband gets to enjoy these simple pleasures.  And I'll be void of all erotic images til death or divorce do us part.
And if I hear one more bullshit excuse about how men are more visual than women I'm going to gouge somebody's eyes out with a toothpick.  It's men making up shit like that so they can keep me and other women from enjoying the same simple pleasures men get to enjoy.

guys and semen

guys. they're always wanting chicks to go down on them.  giving head is like some be all and end all thing for them.  the acest thing you could do for a guy. the thing he likes the most.
i've had guys tell me that swallowing is like true acceptance of who they are and loving them and all that.  like if you don't swallow you don't love them so much.  and others who want a girl to swallow coz he doesn't want to pull out at the last minute (fair call, maybe doesn't feel as good having to withdraw - don't know, not a guy, will have to take your word for it).
ever gone to kiss a guy afterward?  they don't want to kiss you like they think their semen is gross.  funny how they want you to take it but they think it's gross.  i once asked a guy if he would swallow his own semen and he was like "no way!"  and yet he thinks a girl should want to just coz she's a girl.
looks like runny egg or snot or clag to me.  do i want to swallow either of them.  nope.  does a guy.  nope.  so i'm wondering why a guy wants a girl to swallow his semen when he wouldn't swallow his own. ?

pedophiles

Watched a TV interview with a pedophile. He was saying there is a different between pedophiles and child molesters. His claim: a pedophile is someone who is attracted to and loves children much the same way a man is attracted to a women. A molester is someone who rapes and sexually assaults children without their consent.

He claimed to have never touched a child in his life, even though he has strong attractions to them.  He seemed to think peds are born this way and had written a book teaching child lovers (those who love children) how to woo a child and get them to love you and want to be in a relationship with you. Like some successful guide to romance book for pedophiles. Sends chills down my spine.

This man had been raped by his babysitter when he was a very young boy and it had scarred him deeply. He was not happy about the rape and got tears in his eyes when he thought back on it. He was not feeling like he was in a relationship with his babysitter. He might argue that she hadn’t wooed him, hadn’t asked him if he wanted to be in a relationship in the first place and that’s where the damage was done. That is a cop out. Even if she had asked him and wooed him and done all the right things, or if not her because he didn’t love her but anther, the outcome would still be the same. He would still be a deeply scarred and traumatized man.

The reported delved into his history but didn’t ask him the hard questions about whether he’d have liked to be wooed as a child.

As a little girl I had crushes on adult movie stars. If any of them had asked me would I like to marry them I might have thought that was a fantastic (fairy tale) idea. But I know had we gotten down to the nitty gritty and things of a sexual nature had happened my view of relationships would be been deeply skewed. Altered for the remainder of my existence. I’d have been damaged irreparably.  You only need look at the damage done to pedophiles themselves to know it is not a good thing. Most pedophiles who were molested hated how that made them feel, hated the person who did that to them and were never quite the same as adults. And also consider the damaged young girls who turn to drugs, prostitution, stripping and porn because they were molested as young girls and their view of love and relationships is now so screwed they don’t see themselves as worth anything more than ‘sex’.

Regardless of what this man says. Regardless of how he tries to sell it, twist it, turn it… I believe that this theory of being born this way and it being normal – and society is just blind to this fact – is merely a guise for child predators to hide behind. An excuse for their ill deeds. None of them, NONE, ever liked being molested as a child so how in the world can they conceive as adults that children will like it being done to them.

why be gay?

Being gay is more accepted these days than it ever used to be.  Still there are many people who don’t like gay people – or rather fear them for some reason (like touching them will turn you gay – NOT!).

I like to think that since God is the creator of all then God must have had a reason for creating gay people.  Perhaps he put them on this earth to teach us all tolerance and acceptance.  Perhaps he put them on this earth because we are far too over populated and being gay is one way to slow people down from having too many babies.

Scientists have found that around 9 weeks of pregnancy the female body produces a dose of hormones (either testosterone or oestrogen) and sends these hormones to the baby growing inside her belly – depending on what sex the baby has become.

They have found that for some reason (stress can be a trigger and possibly genetics) the body gets it wrong sometimes and large doses or testosterone get given to a female baby or large doses of oestrogen get given to a male baby.  Because the gender is already formed by this stage the baby maybe a boy with a female thinking and feeling brain or a girl with a male thinking and feeling brain.  A baby with the wrong dose of hormones.

It’s no different to being born with down syndrome, blind, deaf, with cerebral palsy – the body just gets it wrong sometimes.  This scientific evidence is proof gay people are born this way and it is not something they choose at age 8 because daddy was an asshole or mummy was a bitch.

Like them or hate them.  Everything happens for a reason and you have to ask yourself the big question.  Why are they here?  Why are you here?  We all exist for some reason or another and the point is to find out why and live up to that reason.

Trust me.  God didn’t create gay people just so ignorant people could hate them.  There is a bigger picture than that.

it's oh so quiet

I really enjoy it when you’re away

I don’t have to hear the critiques you say

When the cats away the mice shall play

I happily exist in my own unique way

On the bench a blender sits

With none here to have a fit

On my behind I’m welcome to sit

Without being told I’m a lazy shit

I can get ready however I like

Without you here to pick a fight

Without you saying ‘no that ain’t right’

Sadly in your quiet absence I delight

This mentioned, you’d rather run away

Instead of trying some other way

So insistence that you are right

Ignorant and blind to my poor plight

For you to win I have to loose

Is this really the life that you choose

train story .. mr smiley

There was a young man on the train yesterday.  Mr Smiley.  He stood by the door 

grinning and smiling to himself.  Some times he broke into a small laugh.  

Nothing deterred him.  Not me watching.  Not the other passengers or even

those standing right in front of him.  His smile did not leave his face for even a

moment.  Lost in thoughts of happiness.

Wonder what made him so happy.  Wish I'd had the courage to ask.

black - poem

Your hair is 'died' blond

Your eyes are bright blue

Your 'anorexic' figure is to die for

Many gaze and stare as you walk by

Wearing your pretty pastel coloured

Fitted clothes

You talk sweetly
Calling everyone 'darl'

You smile a lot
With perfect teeth

Your full luscious lips...

...yet not with your eyes
Never... with your eyes!

You give and give and give some more

And run yourself dry

You talk of neglect

Of people walking all over you

People all taking none giving

Others never giving 110%

The way you say you do

Though generosity
Isn't generous
If  the point to giving
Is to bag others for not giving

But I've looking into those eyes

So bright and blue

And all I see is a deep hollowness

Black, through and through

And constantly you apologise

I'm sorry for this or that

But your apologies

Are a mere cover

To hide your wicked thoughts

Impure!

You speak of friendship

A closeness deep and strong

And yet you talk behind my back

Telling others I am wrong

I don't give 110%

I'm all take and no give

But when I smile

What you see is true

My eyes are never black [like yours]

They are gorgeous green

True, through and through

sexy isn't what guys want

I was a regular teen girl. I like boys and wanted to be an actress. I grew up with a dad who didn’t engage in porn, men’s mags or things like that and he raised me to be the same. Outside of our home every thing told me that female objectification was normal.

Growing up I remember watching a ‘family’ movie in primary school where a lady did a strip tease down to her sparkly knickers with just tassels on her breasts. I told the teacher he needed to turn the movie off, that we shouldn’t be watching this and was told to sit down and be quiet. I remember movies where women got raped, had their clothes ripped off and their bodies exposed and I wondered why it was ok to show this? I wondered if shows like this were damaging because they were saying “This is bad but here are some breasts to make you watch”.

I’ve got my dad in one ear telling me to be a good girl and not to sleep with boys because sex is all they’re after, while the world is telling me sexy is good, sex is popular, all the guys want sexy and sex!  By the time I’m late teens early 20’s I’m mildly promiscuous, though I’m not more popular and I’m very confused.  I thought sexy was the way to be. Everywhere I look I'm being told this!!

There is nudity and sexual innuendo in music videos, TV commercials, billboards, Paris Hilton getting famous from a leaked homemade sex video, men who go to strips clubs, download porn from the net, purchase Playboy and want to watch porn with their girlfriends.  There are shows like Blokes World, Girls of the Playboy Mansion and Underbelly full of female nudity and objectification – in the guise of entertainment.  Yet when I indulge in this kind of behavior (which I'm told is some form of female equality) the reaction isn't good.

When I start dating I meet men who want to go to strip clubs with mates and read Playboy and watch Blokes World and again I’m confused. Why do they like this but I wasn’t liked when I was all that? I start talking to boyfriends about how I want to become a stripper or pose for Playboy and they don't like the idea because “guys don’t respect that”. To which I reply, “Exactly, so why are you doing that to someone else’s sister, girlfriend, mother, daughter?” I've been asked to watch porn with guys and I say I’d rather have sex than watch other people having sex – more fun yes!

For them it is normal, if not their right as a man to subject women to this and guys are ridiculed by their mates when they don't engage in this behavior!

So you can see what began as harmless entertainment or advertising became a young girl’s nightmare as she grew into womanhood. There are many other girl’s dealing with this. There are young girls sending naked pics of themselves on their phones to their boyfriends who then share the pics with their mates. Very damaging! All because society tells boys and girls this is normal. Society teaches us: guys like sexy and girls should be sexy. If you're not sexy as a girl then you're nothing and if your not after as much sex as you can get as a boy then there is something wrong with you.

I encourage ALL MEN to be courageous and say NO to all forms of female objectivity. The welfare, confidence and self-esteem of your sons, daughters, girlfriends and wives depend on it. Not to mention it also gives you your power back as a man to fight and stand up for something far bigger than instant gratification at the expense of all women.

one week stand

Spent a week with my on again off again squeeze.  The week started off good.  He missed me and was loving and affectionate.

Days 1 - 3 he tries hard to turn me on, get me in the mood and get me to climax.  The sex is fun.  I do an erotic dance for him and have fun arousing him.  We drink, listen to music and have a good time.  We feel really in love.  We hug and kiss and show lots of affection.  I like it like this and wish we could feel this way all the time.  He holds me while we sleep.

Day 4 he is out at an event, comes back and is friendly yet distant and unaffectionate.  He is at ease being distant and not trying too hard.  He enjoys the company without it having to be about affection.  We're sore and tired from the sex and since we don't plan on any sex that day he is comfortably distant.  I don’t feel the same.  I enjoy the company and still like affection and can’t see why we can’t keep the affection going regardless of weather we're having sex or not.  I run a bubble bath and we have a bath together.  I please him in the bath tub just because I want to and I like to touch him.  He spends the remainder of the night being unaffectionate and unloving.

Day 5 he is grumpy and agitated, short tempered and keeps getting annoyed over things beyond his control.  Something he didn’t like happened and he can’t let it go or calm down.  He spends the next two days being agitated by this.  I try to concentrate on his good points while trying to ease him out of his grumpy mood.  While thinking, “Snap out of it!  You’re ruining the mood.”

He makes a comment about wanting me to give him pleasure again (one sided).  I don’t give it because I don’t like it when people are grumpy with or at me then want to be intimate.  Plus I feel like I already gave him something and ‘it’s his turn’ to give me something.  Not that I gave just because I wanted something in return, still I don’t think it should be one sided.  When do I get my pleasure just for the sake of him wanting to give that to me???

Day 6 while we’re getting dressed for the day I tell him his view of intimacy is skewed, he is looking at things only from the perspective of what he can get out of it.

I don’t elaborate because I think I’ll sound like I nag him if I do, but what I mean is: he only puts the moves on me when he wants to get laid.  If he doesn’t want sex he doesn’t touch me or show me any affection.  He wants me to touch him and spontaneously give him pleasure but doesn’t think to do anything like that to me in return.  He will take it if I give him pleasure and again doesn’t think to do anything like that in return.

He spends that day being complacent and comfortable regardless of what I said earlier.  He is with me but not with me.  He is on his computer.  He’s watching TV.  At night time we’re sitting on the sofa in front of the fire watching TV together and he’s is not touching me or hugging me.  Throughout the day I tried to instigate some affection by pestering him and trying to wrestle, touching him, kissing him, hugging, but he doesn’t reciprocate.

That night in bed he tries to grab at boobs and I tell him he had all day to touch me, he had his chance and lost it.  He calls me “Ice Queen”.  I tell him he’s King of Cold.

Day 7 he wakes up and starts the day off with an affection kiss and compliments, yet that is as far as his affection goes.  He spends the day going commando because I had been talking about it since before he got here.  He also spends his day making suggestions I touch him, give him pleasure etc. Now finally he is going commando he thinks being commando is all about easy access for me to do things to him.  Again it’s what he can get out of it not what he can give.

That night on the sofa, him sitting at one end on his computer, me at the other end I start a conversation about how the week is going.  He thinks the week is going well.  When I say to him that I liked how he was affectionate for the first few days and wish he’d keep that going he is surprised because it never occurred to him.  I tell him it feels like he’s only nice when he wants something and after he’s gotten it he’s distant, or if he's not in the mood for it he's distant.  He says I should give him signs and I remind him of my pestering and touching and kissing.  He admits that he let his bad mood get in the way and is sorry which is good yet it’s still two wasted days.

The next morning he is off again, away for some boys time.  I suppose I should be thankful I got 3 goods days out of him.

addictions

Addictions to sex, alcohol, drugs, food, computer, work, gambling, TV.  Addictions are signs that people are not fulfilled with their life.  Some thing is lacking.  Some thing is missing.

I have a friend who asked me, "How badly do you want it?"  This got me thinking about addictions and 'how badly does a person want or choose life over their addiction'.  Not wanting to go all heavy and deep like some motivational speaker.  I want to look at how this relates to life [my life and yours].

People today have fairly good lives.  Nothing too dramatic going on.  Their partner could be an alcoholic or a gambler.  They could be eating themselves to death because they don't see anything worth living for - nothing more exciting, interesting or desirable than their addiction.  The addiction feeds the moment and gives instant gratification.  There are lots of times when instant gratification is desired.

We could have starvation, all the water dried up, no food.  We could have civil wars between nationalities for ridiculous petty unsolvable reasons that could go on forever.  We could have it that only one child for every family lives to adulthood [as it was in the old days].  Or that we die at an average age of 50.

By comparison our lives are fairly good.  We can leave the abusive guy.  We can leave the girl who is so insecure you can never get her to see she is good enough, who hides behind backstabbing to feel better.

It's as though we turn to these addictions because we're bored.  There are no catastrophes.  There are no plagues.  Now there is very little to actually get us and we're living just about forever.  The longer we live the more time we have to fill and life is not so exciting.  The longer we live the more time we have to fill our lives with all our imperfections.  We fill out lives with these addictions to keep us happy in the moment.

Back to the question my friend asked, "How badly do you want it?"  How badly do we choose life over our addictions.  How badly do we want or need these addictions.  More than life?

brazilian

I wonder if I went to Brazil would I find all the women there sporting no hair downstairs?  I assume the name Brazilian is called Brazilian for a reason.  Yet it’s hard to imagine that this is a national trend there.

I’m not a fan of the bald badger myself.  It feels a little too childlike and I cannot get the notion of little girl out of my head.  When I was a little girl hankering to be a grown up woman I wished for boobies and pubic hair.  I didn’t wish for boobies and no pubic hair.  I knew that guys wanted women who had boobies and pubic hair.  I grew up seeing ladies who had pubic hair.

For girls these days seeing what they see and hear maybe they’ll grow up wanting to be grown up with huge boobs and no pubes?  It could relate to what we grow up with.

On TV they had a show about men who lusted after hairy women.  One guy even saying how if he could see some hair outside of the knickers that excited him.

I feel the same way about men.  When they’re topless I like the look of the hair that creeps up from their groin to their navel.  It is like the hair is an arrow pointing to the manly object down below.  Sexy.  Hairless men look smooth to touch and tantalizing.  Men with hair there look manly.

I’ve trimmed and such.  It’s not as though I’ve left the jungle yet even if I had that should be ok too.  We have moved away from being natural down stairs.  Should I trim it all off one day just to experience what it looks like and how I feel with no hair?  I don’t know. 

Maybe?  Maybe not?

What I always wanted as a little girl has come true.  Boobs and pubes.  I am a woman.

faking orgasm

it’s every dad’s fear their daughter dating a guy who drives a panel van aka ‘shag wagon’.  i dated a guy who drove a panel van.  i was an adult when i was dating him so no point dad worrying.

we go on a date out for a drive to some national park and we park the panel van by a lake with the tail end facing the water, the boot open so we can sit and watch the moon reflect on the waters surface.

not that we’re doing much moon watching.  he’s putting the moves on me and i’m just going with the flow.  i’ll be honest.  sometimes you’re just not in the mood for sex.  sometimes it doesn’t matter what moves are made you simply can’t get in to it.  this one of those times.  not that he noticed and not that his moves were good enough to turn me on.  he just kept going with his moves concentrating on what he wanted while i obliged.

so there we are, him on top, me lying there taking it like a man [what ever that means].  he had been giving it his best shot for quite some time.  thrusting away on top of me as though that was all he needed to do to get me hot and excited.  it was not unenjoyable.  i just wasn’t feeling turned on or in the mood.  he was.  so i figured it would be nice to let him have his fun.

ages later i’m lying there thinking when is he going to finish?  he’s taking ages.  has he climaxed yet?  i thought i heard him climax yet he’s still going.  how is that possible?  when will it be over?

then he turns to me and asks me, “have you orgasmed yet?”  in my mind i’m thinking, did you hear me orgasm, no, then of course i haven’t.  but then i’m not interested in orgasming and i realise this could be my out.  maybe he’s still going like an everready battery because he’s waiting for me to climax – how thoughtful of him.  rather than fake an orgasm which i’ve never done in my life i simply say “yes.  have you?”  he tells me he climaxed ages ago [i'm still wondering how it was possible for him to keep going afterward] and with that he hops off me and we’re done.

the end.

sexual fantasy 4

I’ve wondered what guys think about when it comes to fanaticism during sex.  Outside of sex I have asked guys what their sexual fantasies are and get told “You” or “We’re at a party and I take you outside and push you up against a wall and thrust away like a raging bull”.  Leaving me wondering at what point did I accept the advance and where did my knickers go?  He didn't even tell me he took them off.  Seriously, as women we want the build up.  When I think about sex outside at a party I Imagine arriving, my man thinking I’m sexy or some guy at the party thinking I’m sexy, flirting with me, looking at me seductively.  I imagine getting drinks and the guy coming over to flirt, a hand on my back or if he dares lightly touching my buttocks. 

I imagine passing in the hall way and he kisses me it starts off regular and then the kiss gets hotter.  Maybe we get some tongue and a touch in before someone else comes down the hall breaking us up.  Later on we meet outside the toilet or bathroom and sneak off to have another pash.  Again it starts off a bit shy, just teasing.  We’re at a party and don’t know how far to take it.  All this is a tease.  It leaves the woman feeling desired, wanted.  We get interrupted again someone wants to take a leak or wash their hands.

By the time we’re driving home we can’t help ourselves.  So much touching and titillating has left us both aching for each other so we go parking, and then he can thrust away like a raging bull.  A bull that knows and remembers the woman wants to climax too.

Men seem to find sex the fantasy and women find the lead up the fantasy.  Feeling hot sexual, being treated hot and sexual.  If it doesn’t happen that way in real life then fantasy is the best way to get it.

I heard that men are more faithful during sex than women.  Men think of the here and now and how good the sensations are.  Women think of scenarios, other men finding them attractive, turning their man on, of meeting up with their man for the first time at some place and lusting after each other.

I have had so many fantasies over the years.  When I get bored I start a new one.  Things like lying on the couch with my boyfriend under a blanket in the dark with the TV on, a couple of his mates are there and my boyfriend keeps trying to touch me and do things to me without anyone noticing.  Walking back from a costume party late at night, wearing a short nurse’s outfit with my boyfriend, who instigates sex in a well lit tunnel while noone else is around.  In my fantasies I always look great in any out fit and the guy is always super-man at working out how to turn me on and which buttons to press and what words to say.  That’s what makes it fantastic.

In reality the guy is so busy paying attention to his sensations in his here and now that he’s not thinking about whether I feel hot or not, or whether he’s leading me to believe he thinks I’m hot.   Maybe that's only my reality?   Having the guy think I’m hot and acting and showing that he thinks I’m hot is the biggest turn on, dream, fantasy ever!

mating rituals

sexy legs

Male camels loll their tongues [hanging their tongues out of their mouths and wobbling them about like slabs of raw steak] when they’re trying to impress female camels.  Male birds flap their colourful wings and do intricate dance moves to impress the female birds – who are usually dull coloured.  Lions spray their scent and flash their balls to lionesses in a courtship that goes on for up to three days before the lioness makes her choice of which lion to mate.  Males lions will fight each other over ownership of a pride and kill off all offspring of the losing lion if need be, in order to conquer and be king of that pride.

Attraction and mating in the animal kingdom is all about good providers and protectors and strong blood lines.  I don’t know the significance of the tongue lolling to attract the female camel’s attention.  Perhaps it’s about size or colour and is significant in some way to how strong a camel’s blood line will be?  I understand why birds flash their colours and dance and why lions urinate and flash their balls.  It’s about saying I’m powerful and I’ve got the goods to produce a good blood line.

Imagine if our mating rituals were like that.  Imagine brightly coloured men, with their tongues hanging out and their groins on display, dancing about with their penises going up, down, side to side, round and round [like tassels covering stripper’s nipples], fighting other men over being king of their family.  Notice I left out pissing to mark their scent.  We’ll leave that one to the lions.

Though it would be entertaining to see, none of those rituals would work for humans.  A tongue, bright colours and balls don’t show a man’s ability to provide or have strong blood lines.  Balls might seem a good way of showing if a man’s got strong blood lines, yet you cannot tell from looking at a man’s balls if is sperm count is good.  And you cannot tell by his package if he’s good in bed which is another important part of providing.  Having battles and fighting also don’t show how good a man is at providing.  He might be good at protection yet there’s no point in protecting if you have nothing to provide – infact, in our world those who have the least [to provide] are the one’s who fight the most.

Even though tongues, bright colours and balls wouldn’t offer us much in the way of knowing about a man’s abilities, I think it would be fun if men had dating and mating rituals like these.  It might make life more fun and entertaining.

Instead, we have the females on display in bright colours, with breasts hanging out and crotches on display.  It is the women parading themselves around and then making the decision on who to mate – based on what their attractions are.  While men stand around like bottles along a wall hoping to be selected by the brightly coloured female ‘peacocks’.  We are the only animal to have females on display and the only animal that doesn’t chose a mate by how well they provide or strong blood lines.  You only need notice our growing overweight populations to realise this.  As females who choose men via emotional attraction we tend to chose the first man who pays us a compliment or buys us a drink.  Not much to a man’s mating rituals there or the female’s selection.

A builder working hard at a work site or a man heading to an office in a suit and tie are signs of a good provider.  A man with broad shoulders and thin waste are signs of a strong blood line.  A sports man with strength is a good sign of protection.  And yet our female species will chose an unemployed man, and overweight man, a skinny weedy man.  We are also the only species to choose ‘the bottom of the barrel’ [so to speak] because we are the only animals with empathy and feelings and believe everyone has the right to love and happiness.  We are the only animals to base our mating choice on emotions and feelings.  This is a good thing because it means our men won’t be killing off offspring from another man’s pride.

date rape

There are different types of rapes.  Verbal persuasion rape is one of the most common.  Verbal persuasion is if someone is dating a person and they’re not in the mood for sex,and the other person takes to verbally forcing them into it, that is verbal persuasion rape because it’s forced.  It can look like this: if you loved me you’d do it; I’ve got blue balls; why won’t you sleep with me?; who else are you sleeping with?; you’re a bitch or a tease (or worse).  Verbally badgering a person into having sex with you until they give in.  Or it can be telling a bunch of lies - i.e. saying I love you, I can’t live without you, you’re the one for me - to get a person in the sack specifically for sex before departing.  Verbal persuasion can get a lot worse such as yelling verbal abuse at a person until they give in and have sex.  Using a person for sex after letting them believe it was more than just sex is another common form of rape.

Date rape – drugging a person for sex – is beyond me.  I wonder how anyone can do that and then look themselves in the mirror with any ounce of pride.  What is there to be proud of?  That the only way you could get a person to sleep with you is if they’re off their face!  Wouldn’t that make the person a loser?

I was date raped in my late teens.  I used to babysit for this woman looking after her two boys.  Her boys were easy to look after and the lady seemed nice enough.  She dressed classy when she went on her dates.  I babysat for her for over year and she dated different guys trying to find a decent guy.  I hadn’t babysat for her for a few months when she called to say she needed me to babysit.  She had a new boyfriend Mark who was tall, good looking with a nice body.  When they got back from their date she walked me home and told me that one of Mark’s fantasies is to have sex with a 16 year old virgin.  I was older than that and not a virgin and had a boyfriend so I didn’t think much about the remark.  If any thing I thought ‘I’m safe’ and I trusted this lady. 

I don’t remember how many months later she phoned me and asked me if I wanted to going out dancing with her and her boyfriend.  They took me to some night club.  At the club he gave me rum and coke.  I sipped it slowly and danced in between sips.  When ever I went back to the table the glass was full again.  I don’t remember finishing a single drink and I don’t know how much I had all up.  But I was so legless by the end of the night I fell over on the dance floor and couldn’t get back up.  They took me back to her place.

She gave me a shower to try and sober me up but she had her hands full.  I kept falling and couldn’t stand up.  I couldn’t even dry myself.  I wrapped a towel around myself and told her I was going to lie down.  I barely made it to the bed and just fell onto the edge of the mattress.  Then Mark came in.  I don’t remember him coming in, just standing over me looking down at me.  He started trying to pry my legs apart while I tried to lock my knees together but was so drunk I couldn’t control my movements.  I even remember trying to say no and all I got out was a groan. Then she was beside me sitting on the bed next to me stroking my hair and the rest is a blur.

I remember him being in me but couldn’t feel it.  I remember her getting undressed and joining in.  I remember him doing things to her and to me and her doing things to me and to him and trying to get me to do things to her.  I guess this was some fantasy of his that we were playing out.  I have no idea how long it went for.  When it was over they left the room and some time later I got up, got dressed and left.  As I left she asked me if I was ok (referring to how drunk I was not what had happened). 

Outside in the street I threw up then staggered home.  My dad was home and asleep when I walked in and I wondered if he’d been worried about me.

The next day she rang me to see if I was still talking to her.  I asked her if he came in me, she said he didn’t and I hung up.  Answering her question.  No, I’m not still talking to you.

Maybe because I was too drunk to remember, the situation didn’t bother me that much.  Some times I would think about him having sex with me without my permission and my insides would knot.  I wondered what kind of person does that.  Have sex with a girl too legless to move or object or even agree.  I was mostly pissed off with my friend (well I thought she was) for letting it happen.  I did wake with night terrors but couldn’t remember what had scared me.  I didn’t tell anyone.  Though I did vaguely mention it to my boyfriend who didn’t believe me and I never said another word.  He thought I was making up a tale just for something to say.

I don’t think I’m traumatized by that night.  I don’t feel much about it and it was so long ago.  One thing though, I cannot watch rape scenes in movies even though I know it’s just acting.  It makes me want to turn vigilante.  Maybe I’m more affected than I seem.

who's the fairest of them all?

Had some friends over on the weekend.  We were chatting about all manner of things when the subject of my weight came up.  It was mentioned in not such a flattering light.  One friend, A, commenting to another friend, B, because A had bet that B would fail to get me in shape by March.  B was adamant it could be done.  B lost the bet and A was gloating at my expense.

While A and B argued about my failure to lose weight and get fit, another friend, C, started talking to me about my weight loss.  He was aware that I wasn’t happy with the conversation, the bet and my subsequent failure being shamefully broadcast.  He started talking to me and the others about why I wasn’t having any luck even shifting 1 kilo and asked me, firstly: why a person who is obviously in a healthy weight range is so insistent on losing weight and secondly: what is my motivation.  Adding that if I’m trying to lose weight because I’m unhappy and don’t like myself then I would never achieve the weight loss because that motive isn’t enough to move me.  Further more, even if I did lose the weight I would still not like myself anymore than at present.  He suggested I concentrate instead of liking myself.  Then perhaps the weight loss might happen or maybe it won’t.

A and B started arguing with him about how important it was he not give me the idea that I shouldn’t try to lose weight.  The guy told them they’re part of the reason a healthy woman thinks she has a weight issue to begin with.

Interesting.

Now that has been said I find myself wondering ‘how do I like myself’?  It’s not as though there is some magic button I press and “hey presto!”  Do I do it through self affirmations?  I did like myself when I was in my early 20’s.  Before I began getting into serious relationships.  Some how being in relationships chips away at my self worth.  Is this because I lose myself?  It is because the guys I date don’t build me up?  Is it because they don’t allow me to be me and do all the things I love doing… or because I let them take it all away?  Again I ask ‘how do I like myself’?  How do I get that back?  What if I never get it back?  What if I never feel about myself the way I used to?

I had this idea that I would like myself once I got back to the weight I was in my early 20's but  my weight loss failure has only added to the list of 'failings' to dislike about myself.  Right now liking myself seems like some remote long lost love that will never return again and I don't even nearly know how to go about finding it again.

abusive boyfriend - 3

A couple of weeks later he came around late at night wanting to talk.  In the past he had often come around late at night, sometimes drug affected and all hyped up, sometimes outright agitated, other times all apologetic and grovelling.  This time he was cool, calm and reasonable.  Starting off with saying he knew he couldn’t have me and he understood I deserved better.  I let him in.  He didn’t turn straight away.  He played it cool for a while longer then he sort of hugged me, pinning my arms by my side saying he wasn’t going to let me go until I said I would take him back.  I said he’d be holding on for a while then.  Holding on for quite some time, trying to pin me up against the wall and kiss me.  He eventually realised I wasn’t going to say what he wanted.

He pushed me up the hallway talking relatively calmly about how he knew to please me and we could still have a little something on the side.  This is about when I realised I shouldn’t have let him in.  Once in my bedroom he pushed me onto the bed and started trying to woe his way into my pants.  When that didn’t work he starting trying to pressure his way into my pants before moving on to trying to physically get me undressed.  I fought and wrestled him and told him to get off me and he had to go.  I wasn’t going to have sex with him.  I did worry I wasn’t going to have a choice.  I fought anyway.

He pinned my arms above my head while trying to remove my pants.  I remembered I kept a knife under my pillow and debated on whether I’d have the courage or the need to use it.  When I slipped my hand under my pillow he pulled the pillow back to see what I was doing.  I panicked for a moment because I didn’t want the knife in his hands just in case.  He didn’t seem agitated enough to do anything like that.  Turns out I was right.  He tossed the knife and asked me what I planned on doing with it, would I use it on him.  I said that if he raped me I’d be forced to defend myself.

For the first time in our 5 tumultuous months he laid a hand on me, smacking his hand into my jaw and screaming at me, “I’m not a rapist!”

“Then get off me then” I said.  To my surprise he smacked me across the head, pushed his hand into my mouth like he was trying to gag me, and then got off.  So he did have some reasoning left.  He spent the next few minutes telling me he was never going to rape me and that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.  This turned into him begging me to take him back and the water works started.  Him crying and saying he couldn’t live without me and I was the best thing that had ever happened to him.  Saying how everyone had noticed he’s been so much better since he’d met me.  It I didn’t take him back he was going to take drugs and kill himself.  I simply kept telling him he needed to leave.  In the end I got him to leave by saying I’d think about taking him back and call him over the next few days.

When I called him like I said I would I explained that I couldn’t take him back.  It would be the wrong message to send.  I would be saying all that he’s done so far is acceptable and I want better for myself and my children than that.  I knew he’d made improvements and I was proud of him for that but I couldn’t fix him and take his turmoil and hurt way.  He was kidding himself if he thought I was the answer.  He needed to do things for himself and only then could I think about being with him.

Amazingly he remained calm, took it all in and agreed with me.  He had every intention of continuing to see his councilor and get help.  I got calls from his dad telling me he was depressed but understood I needed to think about what was best for me.  I got calls from his battered mother telling me he was a great kid and I should take him back.

He stalked me for months.  Phoning me and hiding out front of my house.

Sometime later unbeknown to me he moved back in with his mum, I think to protect her from her current bloke.  The new bloke kicked him out once he stood up to him so he was living in some tin shanty shake with an Aboriginal girl and hanging around with her mob.  They took him in and looked after him like he was one of their own.  But nothing could take away his anger and hurt.  He still lost his temper and true to his word he took up drinking and drugging himself out of his nightmare.  All the while his Aboriginal girl stuck by him.  Months later he was dead.  Run over by a road train in the middle of the night after passing out cold in the middle of the road, from too much drugs and alcohol.

It is a sad story.  A boy who had metal clocks, beer bottles and what ever thrown at him by abusive men.  A boy who witnessed his mum beaten black and blue and then had the men turn on him when she was done.  A boy who lived a shitty life with no-one there to save him.  No-one noticing (which amazes me to be honest).  No school teachers realising that something is drastically the matter with his life.

The saddest part of all is his death put an end to his inescapable misery.

R.I.P. - D

abusive boyfriend - 2

In situations like this the person is usually asked why they stayed with the abuser?  Why they put up with all the rubbish and abuse.  So why was I with him?  Aside from knowing he was good on the inside somewhere in there, he also had his kind moments.  He would do dishes and fold washing and tell me really lovely things about how he felt about me.  He was passionate and really into me and for the most part really big on compliments.  Not your standard trying to sucker the girl in type either.  Genuine and spontaneous compliments like wanting to grab a camera and take a photo of me at that precise moment.  Telling me I looked good in what I was wearing.  Bringing me random gifts like flowers he’d picked on the way to see me.  We use to go shopping and try on fancy dresses just so he could see me in them.  He was a real sweetie, a kind soul.  He was a great kisser and amazingly good in bed.  Because of things he’d witnessed he new things about sex beyond his years!  His admiration and lust for the female body was insatiable.  He was a veritable porn king who gave me my first orgasm and first experience with ‘parking’.

He would also deliberately ogle other women openly in order to make me jealous and in order to give me a sense of knowing my place.  He could leave any time he wanted, he would tell me.  There were girls at parties giving him blow jobs on weekends he wasn’t at my place.  He pointed out a bus stop where some girl had given him a blow job.  I wondered what type of adventurous and promiscuous girl would do such a thing?  Even going so far as to organise one of his girls to phone my house once to speak to him, then spending his time on the phone obviously flirting and talking sex with her.  I picked up the other line secretly and listening to her talking about how she couldn’t wait to see him again and give him head.

He was a game player.  But he was playing games with the wrong person.  Since he was abusive I never found myself really falling for him.  My friends were already starting to drift away and I didn’t want to lose them.  There was no way I wanted that life for myself.  So I held my emotions in check.  Him constantly losing his temper, telling me other girls on tv were so much better looking than me and that nobody but him was ever going to settle for a girl like me [him repeating verbatim all the things he’d heard growing up] – made it easier for me.  He would also try and tell me not to do the things I like.  Don’t listen to that music.  Don’t watch that program.  Don’t sing.  And I would say, “There’s the door if you don’t like it”.

I would phone those people he said bagged me and ask them straight out if they did and find they had not even spoken to him.  I told him he’s welcome to get head jobs from some tramp at a party if that’s what she feels like doing.  I told him I knew that I was not ugly like he said and that I believed his compliments more.  I also told him if he kept it up I’d say good-bye.

This last statement used to be one of our key argument triggers.  He didn’t want me to kick his ass to the curb.  He wanted to me to love him and put up with him because part of him knew he deserved it.  It was constant turmoil and I can’t imagine what it felt like to actually be him, stuck in his head with all his awful memories.

The decider came when he and I were watching tv and there was a one year old that we were looking after.  While watching tv the phone rang.  A girl friend of mine to talk to me.  The one year was walking around the perimeter of the lounge room holding onto the sofa, chairs, table and walls working his way around the room over to me.  When the one year old made it to the tv, taking his sweet time with his little baby legs, the boy gets up, swipes at the baby and says “Move!”, toppling the baby across the room.  Unfazed the one year old crawled back to the tv and took up where he’d left off.  I put down the phone and screamed at him, “How dare you!  Don’t you ever lay a hand on that baby ever.  You need to go.  Now!” and I ordered him out of the house.  I knew then I could never be with him.  It’s one thing for him to torture me with his insults and anger, his paranoia and breaking my things.  That stuff was done to me.  Someone big enough to stand up to him.  But to lay a hand on a defenseless child, he’d have grown into a full blown abuser down the track.  I knew that then.  I knew there was no fixing him.  He would be promising to never do it again forever and the longer I kept taking him back the worse it would get, and the more he would have me right where he wanted me.  Squashed and broken with only him as my world.  I deserved better.  Any children I had deserved better.

I have always believed it is one thing for an abusive woman to put herself in that situation by accepting it to begin with, but to enter defenseless children into the mix, I draw the line.  If the woman can’t defend herself how will she defend the children.

to be continued...