Monday, December 8, 2014

A black-face ad campaign and fighting and fucking at the airport:

So part of navigating this… whatever the fuck we are, is having sometimes uncomfortable conversations. But, of course, all adult-like and with trust and mutual respect. Right? Riiiiight.

K and I haven’t really had too many awkward conversations where one of us has just been plain pissed-off (other than when I brought that tall blonde guy home on his birthday) and so we aren’t too used to seeing each other angry. BUT (or should I say “and” K, you sonofawhore) however, in contrast, sometimes shit gets said and I get mad. Like at the airport.

Well, we’ve already had multiple rational and all adult-like conversations about whatever the fuck we’re doing (still not an exact science) and have both definitely agreed that we want to be open and bring others into our relationship from time to time. We’ve had a couple of trials and errors (see other posts, such as “Feeeel de Oni” coming soon) and those have been more about sex than any other thing. In my mind, I can fairly easily separate sex from my emotions. Yeah yeah I know what you are thinking, and I’ve thought it too and that’s not to say that I haven’t become emotionally attached to fuck-buddies in the past. But I’ve matured. Now when finding someone I want to use for sex, I go completely on a physical level. The shallowest possible. The less they think, the better. Just so long as they’ve got a great body and can follow directions. Or if they have a sweet car I can drive, or connections to a great bar or something. Anyways, I guess when we’ve had our talks about whatever the fuck we’re doing, I’ve always kinda assumed that K was looking to bring in others pretty much just for sex too. And just on a sexual basis. So, I felt pretty blindsided when, while vacationing and having THE BEST TIME EVER, he casually rolls over in bed and says, “I want to date a second woman.”

Ok, fine. Not immediately mad. Assumptions should never be made when trying to navigate whatever the fuck this is. I ask “oh? Did you meet someone?” His answer “No.” “Okayyy, well lets just cross that bridge when it comes, shall we?” And that was the extent. Two days later and it’s still simmering. And we are at the airport. I’m a bad flyer, it’s fair to mention. Like, I HATE flying. It’s not so much THAT FUCKING LIAM NEESON MOVIE WITH THE WOLVES, but it’s more that I have a fear of spending all that time going through the level of hell that is airport security and then realizing that I’ve forgotten some crucial thing and I CANT TURN BACK. I forgot about that roach in my purse, etc etc. And the hours of boredom, waiting, and line standing carrying heavy fucking bags. So, two days later, airporty-ness sinking in, and I begin to turn over and identify Two Words that fucking pissed me off in that sentence: Date and Second. The context was absolutely horrid as well, which also pisses me off. Mind made up, I’m pissed off.

Nothing worse than trying to be all angry-pants at your significant other and then being shoved onto an air-born tin-can with said other for the duration of a flight. When in a coach middle seat on a budget airline, I want to hate the people sitting next to me anyways, just simply for being there and smelling weird and taking my GODDAMN ARMREST! So, when ‘trapped’ on a plane with someone you are already trying to send hate-rays at (baby I don’t really hate you, it’s just better writing) shit gets kinda intense.

Airplane. Emergency exit row. Middle seat. Put-on seatbelt light ON, remain seated. No moving about the cabin. And he’s dumbfounded and I’m mad. And I’m a crier when I get mad, which just sucks for the other person, not to mention that I really can’t get my point across. Which makes me frustrated. It wasn’t at all the idea of bringing in a third, it was more the unclarity of purpose. Did I overreact? Perhaps. But we agree that is much better than non-reacting. It’s not like I started screaming or anything. Not even close. I just was pissed off at this abstract concept of bringing in another woman, a Second girlfriend, to Date. Who DOESN’T EXIST. Some of you may be wondering, “but isn’t it better that there is no second woman?” Maybe it is in whatever the fuck you are doing, but not for me. If there is an actual woman, she is a person. I can see her, know her, borrow her clothes and potentially shoes. But if there is in fact no woman but the woman of imagination, well there is no gauge with an imaginary woman. She is perfect, the imaginary woman, this Second woman he wants to Date. (Yes, I’m more jealous of fictional than physical, absolutely.) She is not a person. So, I am terrified. Which equals 300000 miles in the air and us pissed off at each other and crammed into little seats hurtling towards the ground.

We land. We’ve discussed our anger. But the energy is still there. Bathroom? Ahh, even better: mommy and baby changing room. Yeah, he bent me over that changing counter and then threw me against the mirrored walls. So that happened. We felt our feelings, expressed them as best we could, and then fucked in the airport.


And what’s with all those Desigual black-face ads all over the place?



Update:  We are assholes.  H suggested posting our FB dialogue will be the easiest way to communicate our assholio-ness.
















hm, didn't i publish your blackface blog?

I don't know
I wanted a pic of that damn ad to accompany at the end

K ok. no worries. just wondering if blogger removed it...
or if i never actually posted it.
Damn them

H Try again?

am

Also, noticed that you've outed our position... Blogspot.com.es
Dot. E. S.
paña

can't help it. auto corrects.
i published as .com

Fucking
Balls
You mean if I want to have privacy on the Internet then I can't post stuff??
On the Internet?

heh
maybe we can post on facebook and mark it private. (;

PS: playlist is meant to go on your personal blog
And title should be: "NOW that's some fucking bad music, volume 28"
Here's a cat eating noodles

ohhhhh. i don't want the public to know i get stoned. i'll fight for sex, but not sex and drugs.
oops. she HAS that MJ skin disease...

Haha well it says stoned in the opening
Noooo! Nu uh! Get out!!!
Shut up

yeah....

Noooo
No way!
Hahahajahaha ha

will be editing the blog shortly....

Hahahahaahhashhaaha
Don't edit, just add on a comment
That we are assholes
Hahahahahahahahahaaaaaaa
like it.
Cat in a pizza box eating pizza
Hahahahahahaa fuuuuck
In fact, just publish the contents of this chat
That's the most entertaining way we can show that mistake

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