Honest dating profile

I just want someone to sleep with in both ways. Someone with whom a love can grow happily – with neither one of us shouldering more burden than the other. I don’t want to labour or suffer for you. I want to easily please you and to be easily pleased in return. In you hands, I want to feel my restlessness lift away and leave me. I want to exercise vulnerability and not resilience. I want to feel no restraint, only joy, as I lie with you fondly and feel gladdened by your heavy presence, your lion-gentle breath.

I brushed my teeth for a particularly long time because I was thinking about this

At the moment, I’m unemployed and I have no partner. That’s not likely to change anytime particularly soon and in our cultural climate of competition and comparison and with the “what do you do?” atmosphere, it can be hard to deal with the expectations and judgements of other people.

I’m not as bothered as I once was that I’m not “succeeding” in the conventional way in my life as I once was. I graduated around two years ago now and I’ve been off sick ever since. This post isn’t about my PTSD though, so I’ll move on.

I guess, what I’m reflecting on here is how it’s made me rethink how I value myself and how I find meaning and engagement in general without occupation in a “work” sense.

I think I’m quite self-aware and that’s something I let myself take credit for. I know that I’ve had to actively try to build a sense of self-worth over the last few years partially due to my negative experiences. I do value myself pretty highly now and I look out of myself as much as I can.

I also think that I’ve gained a sense of perspective, and although I can have low mood swings and feel utterly shitty sometimes and pretty sensitive, I know that I can get through things, I often find myself saying to myself “I’ve been through worse, I can do this.”

Making a conscious effort to find good qualities in myself has helped me, I recognise my compassion and my ability to nurture and trust in strong friendships. I also think I’m quite thoughtful and imaginative 🙂 – it sounds odd to say such things about oneself sometimes, because I don’t think many people are raised to actively accept and acknowledge pleasing traits in themselves, but I think it’s a helpful thing to try and learn to do.

Physically, I’ve also had to make this effort. I remember being dissatisfied with my appearance at various points in my life, like a lot of people are, and how, now, I love myself whether I think I look good or not. I’ve come to realise I’m under no obligation to any one else to look good and I found that to be freeing.

I’ve said to myself in my own head, when I saw something I didn’t like or if I took an awful picture: “I still love you”, y’know. And I might’ve mentioned this before, but when I had CBT a while ago, one of the main things I took from it was the notion that I should treat myself as I would treat a close friend, because I deserve that and I’m glad I do that now. (In the past, when I’ve had something pretty difficult to do, like a really stressful phone call or something, I’ve written little lists to break it down and signed it with something like “love ya babe ❤ ” – and it actually helped, I got a little flicker in my heart once, almost as if someone else had said it, haha.)

Regarding the whole “other people” issue, because I support myself now (and let my close friends help) and I know that I’ve improved, I no longer give as much of a shit if other people are unimpressed or bewildered by my current no-job status.

I’m sure I’ll find a bit more of something soon, and even thinking about this – and listening to some Mariah Carey (Touch my Body if you’re interested 😉 ) has helped me feel a little more hopeful about the next few days and weeks, as things have felt a little heavy lately.

P.S. Love ya babe ❤

See, it’s nice isn’t it. 😛

I did free the woman on the meat slicer, but I can’t remember the details

Last night I was an unassuming character, I don’t even know my name and I saw no mirrors.

Invited into a family home I saw the mother on a meat slicer, like hell, constantly being sliced and forever zipping back together, screaming for mercy while father did the taxes or read the paper or smoked.

The daughter rode a plastic toy car outside and begged me to release mother, who only came out for respectable dinners or meetings with the father’s colleagues.

Without the means or the strength to act, I left things as they were and went to the father’s place of work.

I found a culture of silence and built on disturbing risk. Most of the employees had something viciously wrong and the world was strange and liquid and changed depending on the viewer’s mood.

On the bus back, I saw a boy (I was no longer anyone, just a floating observer).

Something was wrong was his friend, something had been lost. So he threw him out the back window with a tearful swiftness.

The world changed around us as he thought about what he’d done.

Memories they’d had materialised in the clashing colours of the sky.

The love unsung he’d harboured for him, flaunted in the giant bananas that were strung up from somewhere as they came together to form hearts, and their favourite burgers were sun-blockingly huge above the orange landscape.

Just before I woke up, the boy was trying to soothe himself but failing, and his eyes flickered like flies. He said “Remember, there’s no god.” out loud, as if that made any difference.

Let’s get down to business

“Pitch to me Dave, what have you got?”

“I’ve got a gambling problem and athlete’s foot but I’m the most generous guy you’ll meet.”

“Noted, your turn Simon- what can you offer?”

“Good news- lovely curvy dick. Bad news- I’m tightfisted and I only brush my teeth when I feel like it.”

“OK thanks, Gary- give it to me.”

“I’m a tongue magician, but I describe myself as a tongue magician.”

“Lovely, now – Fred please.”

“I’ll make you feel small because I feel inadequate. I’ll guilt trip you constantly for the slightest mistake and make backhanded comments in front of your friends, but I have a sexy accent and I regularly get my crack waxed so I’m smooth as a silken arsehole.”

“Great, now Harry – please present yourself.”

“You’ll never trust me and I can’t commit, I’ll beat around the bush for years before ultimately disappointing you time and again, but I can be a trophy husband – everyone’ll be jealous of you and my incredible jawline.”

“Nice. Now, Pete?”

“Thanks boss, I’m funny and gentle, loyal like a labrador but I make love like a worm that’s been cut in half.”

“OK – Jeff?”

“I’m the most intelligent shit you’ll see- I have an answer for everything and you’ll never see me not smug, except for the point of orgasm which I can only reach if you prick the soles of my feet with a needle.”

“Thanks. Now Warren?”

“I’m a homophobe and a racist but boy, do I have a nice thick neck. And great table manners.”

“Excellent, thanks for your presentations everyone. I’ll consider you for the position and you should hear back within a couple of days or when I can be arsed. Thanks for your time fellas.”

String of self

I just typed in “you”, searching for YouTube and “you are an experienced monk” came up in my recent searches.

Bewildered, I remembered that I’m not the same person as I was when I searched for that.

I had different priorities clearly.

I’ve remembered now, what it was about, and that’s a line of continuity that runs through past and present me.

The self is more brittle than it seems.