Mirror of Erised

Did you have a nice Christmas, guys and gals? Did you eat so much chocolate you looked at your legs and thought, oh my God I gotta stop eating or I'll get so fat no one will ever fancy me again? Whatever is your answer, I bet you dealt with it better than I did. I dealt with it by realizing that no one has ever fancied me before and no one ever would, no matter how fat or thin I was. Then I went back to my chocolate and cheese and crackers and all the stuff I've been, um, eating (there must be a more suitable word to describe the exact connection that I've developed with food) all Christmas long.

So that was just a lil' story. But I have something to actually talk about. Like, seriously talk, not just to make you suffer from my self-pity but to make a point.

I want to talk about desire.

And when I write 'desire' or 'want' or anything ever remotedly similar, I from now on in this text mean sexual desire. Mostly. Try to follow me if I'm getting inconsistent.

So the thing is, no one has ever wanted me. Desired me. Of course not in the sense of wanting to have a relationship with me, either, but I want to focus on the sex aspect now (oh when wouldn't I?). No-fucking-one has EVER looked at me and thought, oh my God I want to have that woman, like, right now, here on this table or wherever I don't even care because she's so desirable I cannot think anymore. No one has ever wanted to sleep with me - or sleep next to me, though, but that I understand because I tend to be annoying while sleeping, including loads of kicking, talking, drooling and also kind of climbing on whoever happens to be sleeping next to me against their will. Dudes, I'm a goddamned creeper (a creep, too, but more like a creeper in the sense of the plant, check it out on the internet).

I'm sure if I posted this now without getting further, someone might comment something like 'oh don't ya worry, anyone will find someone to fuck them if they really wanted to, just go to a bar and you'll see you don't need to go home alone'. I get that. First of all, I know of experience (not personal) that this is true, and also, I've read A Geek's Guide To Get Laid! (Have Sex Even If You're Fat, Ugly or Worse!) by Dave Briner, which by the way does not only involve practical information but also is a hilarious read that I recommend to anyone interested in relationships or sex (guilty). The book is free to download, just look for it. And when I say free, I don't mean you can find torrents or something, I mean that the writer has put it online to give it to read for free so it's not even illegal to get it.

So the problem is not that I couldn't find someone to fuck me. Anyone could. The problem is, I want someone to want me, in the sense of wanting me and not just anybody that has the necessary bodyparts. In the sense of choosing me when they could choose anyone in the world.

Oh! Now you are saying: but no one has such infinite choice, you silly girl.

And I am responding, so hear me out: yes they effing do. They have a choice. And I'm not talking about people getting delusions of grandeur and successfully hitting on Chloë Sevigny. And I sure am not talking about rapes either. Have some class...

People do have infinite choice in their own minds. Inside their own fantasies, they can fuck whoever they are willing to. They can choose. They can have a threesome with the Hemsworth brothers if they choose to. Inside of their head. Because that's the place where everything is possible and nothing hurts (unless they want it to).

So whenever people are just fantasizing or even masturbating to their fantasies (or trying to and then getting bored and quitting once again without a result - I'm not quite the one to judge in this matter, and besides, the point of my argument can be made without getting too deep in the sea of masturbation (please slap me in the face because my metaphors are getting horrible)).

What was I trying to say? No one has ever wanted me, desired me, fancied me (which choice of words do you prefer, sir?) that much that they would have chosen me over every other person in the whole wide world and possibly beyond (I know there are some scifi geeks out there that might fancy fictional people who don't quite count as homo sapiens sapiens).

I do realize I now do sound like my sole wish was that someone would think of me while jerking off. That is not quite the case. Or at least not the whole truth. But the thing is, what happens in those people's minds happens to reveal their deepest desires (it's like looking into the Mirror of Erised) and this is why I don't feel wanted if I'm not so utterly wanted that I'd get chosen over that goddamned Jessica Alba that all the men I know seem to find so irresistibly hot (WHY her? There are so many hotter women on this planet so why HER? She looks BORING! Look at her FACE!). Of course I know my body isn't as hot as Elizabeth Banks' of Zooey Deschanel's or *insert here a female of your desire*'s. But I know when people, umm, fall in love? have a crush? find someone irresistible? - they forget about Elizabeth and Zooey and those others and just dream of the one person that they would very much like to sleep with (and possibly even sleep next to). So it's not too much to ask, if you happen to be able to be that someone to someone else. That is how relationships begin, after all... I just never have those. This forms a pattern, right? You see where this is going?

I think I've made my point.

But to make it perfectly clear, the whole point in other words: in the Mirror of Erised, no one would ever, even for a while, see themselves with me. And perhaps I do have 'high standards' or something, but I don't want to fuck someone who wouldn't.


Do you even know how much this can hurt, from time to time, not being desired? No you don't, you bastards, because someone has fancied you and the odds are they've also fucked you and what the hell are you doing reading this blog anyway if someone somewhere is wanting to have sex with you at this very moment? Not that this blog wasn't hilarious, but seriously, not that hilarious.

Aaand please leave a comment if you're reading this because it also hurts that it seems like no one ever reads me, if I myself don't count, even though I might as well count because I reread my own posts quite often.

December 6th: Dependence day

Independence day supposedly going on here in Finland. Feeling independent.

Is it possible to be cockblocked by a bicycle?

I imagine myself typing that previous sentence like Carrie Bradshaw types those couple of words that appear on-screen with the sound of a typewriter and her reading it out loud. Doesn't help that I now literally read that out loud.

Examples of realism

A friend told me she has found that the height of her new boyfriend is perfect. Because he's like 20 cm taller than her and she thinks it's nice to have to get on her toes to be able to kiss him.

Yeah right. Luckily she has a realist as a friend. That is, me.

Told her that she should think things through. When they get married and spend their honeymoon in Hawaii, they'd be taking a scuba diving course. And after all that diving, her ears will get wet and then she'll be getting an ear infection. A chronic one. And where is our vestibular system again, that is, what keeps us balanced when we stand? That's right - EARS. I'd like to see her try to get on her toes then! No more kissing during that honeymoon, and ta-dah, you're on your way to an early divorce.

Choke on your cuteness.

No, really, I love you and stuff, but be a realist!!

BTW! Scuba diving was one of the very first words I learned in English! What a nice flashback! I had the Barbie Ken Scuba Diver with these:

Taupo

I'm almost officially unable to fall in love.

I mean, to that point that if there was any possibility to register this unability and thus make it official, then that'd be the case. But let's go with unofficial for now.

I hate my brain and I hate it how it won't collaborate with my heart. I hate my unability to fall for good guys and I hate my habit of only feeling physically attracted to men who aren't my type in any non-physical attributes.

Did you know that in some Samoan cultures, there is a concept of 'the maid of the village' or 'the official virgin', called taupo in their language(s)?

Current status: thinking of moving to Samoa.

(Sidenote: loving taking these ethnology courses.)

I love Carl and Ellie

No news. Nothing's new. Not in this front, at least.

Whatever.

I can fulfill my need of feelings by watching something that makes me overly emotional and that makes me cry and sob for eight minutes without being even remotedly able to stop. Even when I'm not having my period, that is. So you can just imagine what it's like when I do. I'll spend the whole tomorrow trying to scrape all the salt off my face that used to be tears until the water dried out. Probably going to look like a shaved yeti. Still talking about my face, that is.




Btw I heard the next episode on Glee is going to be called The Break Up. I'm almost crying already and it hasn't even aired yet.

Why am I so goddamn emotional about fictional characters but cannot feel ANYTHING about real people I actually know and that EXIST? There's gotta be something wrong with me.

Least

THIS. So damned much.

"I swear I’ve been least expecting it for years."

Yoghurt and other announcements

I notice I nowadays tend to post much of pictures, quotes and other stuff made by someone other than me. I somehow feel sorry for that, but the case usually is that I just cannot find a place more suitable to put these things to, and I very much feel like they need to be posted here.

Oh my, writing the last sentence, I just spilled some yoghurt on my pants.

Anyway, I will be wanting to begin this autumn very much free of any man I already know. Probably also free of any new men. I just want to shake off the weigh of any previous and/or imaginary crush. I from now on want to be free. I want to stop thinking 'what if' because if any of these people were right for me there would be no need to think 'if'.

So I'll still be alone and a bit desperate but hopefully even slightly less miserable.

I've been sheldonized

Sheldon Cooper: I believe I would like to alter the paradigm of our relationship. 
Amy Farrah Fowler: I'm listening. 
Sheldon Cooper: With the understanding that nothing changes, whatsoever. Physical or otherwise. I would not object to us no longer characterizing you as not my girlfriend. 
Amy Farrah Fowler: Interesting. Now, try it without the quadruple negative. 
Sheldon Cooper: You're being impossible. 
[Amy leans over to Stuart] 
Amy Farrah Fowler: Hi, Stuart! 
Sheldon Cooper: Fine! 
[Amy leans back again] 
Sheldon Cooper: Amy... Would you be my girlfriend? 
Amy Farrah Fowler: Yes. 

I have recently finished watching all the seasons of The Big Bang Theory. I cannot help wondering how it is possible that even Sheldon Cooper finds a soulmate, when at the meantime I myself lie around alone watching this series. Hell, much of the time I'm naked and I got popcorn so you'd think someone would consider me the perfect woman. You'd think.......

Also, when will I learn to write dialogue that'd be as sparkly as in TBBT? But this is not a blog for rant about any other topic than oldmaidness. Thus I will remain silent on this topic.

I have settled a movie date for myself for next wednesday. ALONE. I'm planning to watch What to Expect When You're Expecting, only to drool over Matthew Morrison whilst crying about the fact I'll never be expecting.

"i love it! it reminds me of you." (said a friend)

A way out?

I just need a hug.

Someone to make me feel safe, someone to take care of me, someone who'd promise it's going to be allright

because today, once again, I'm back in the dark place inside my chest and don't seem to find a way out.