Letter from a gentle man

Want to know if a man really cares about you?  It’s one that I wouldn’t recommend…

It’s the little things.

Maybe you can catch what I’m referring to by looking at the picture and video below.

These were taken before and after a long night out drinking at the Orange County Yelp Elite ‘Stache Bash.

Letter from a gentleman, the night after.

Letter from a gentleman, the night after.

I am smitten and truly honored by this one dear sweet Mr.  Here’s hoping he sticks around for awhile.  I think he just might.  But I guess only time will tell.  I’m going to enjoy savor last bit of it.

Cheers and Happy Friday.

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Letters: An exercise in combating negative decoys

I received the following email yesterday.  Part of me did not want to respond at all- because truly there are times when you just need to ignore things and let go.  However after I looked at this person’s synopsis and learned a bit more about them (albeit from what was written in their words about themselves in digital format) I thought… maybe I should send this message out- a counter of positivity.  Here is the letter sent and the one I wrote back.

TO: CUPCAKECOQUETTE

FROM: ANON

You might be able to fool most people with you flamboyance….but your eyes aren’t happy.

FROM: CUPCAKECOQUETTE

TO: ANON

Usually when someone writes something as negative in nature about someone, it’s a defense mechanism and a wall brought up by their own issues and insecurities.
Whatever yours may be… whatever troubles you have going on in your life…
realize that there is nothing ever solved by lashing out at a stranger.

Happiness is something that can only be determined and realized by the individual. I hope you find yours.

Best of luck and well wishes to you on your journey,
Jennifer Stavros
iamanenigma.com
Muse for Hire

*edit* The user wrote back… and, well.. my foot tastes like chicken.  Will there be another blog about it? Well that one you never know.  I guess you will just have to stay tuned to find out.

Apologies and aftermaths not quite closed

My take on apologies?
Well they speak volumes of your character.
Believe it or not-
Every one is gonna mess up.
He’s going to make a mistake.
She’s going to go the wrong way.
Someone is going to say something that hurt you.
One day you’re going to wish you never did something that is done already.

And it’s about the way you pick yourself up and acknowledge your error.

And can you apologize for it… no I mean sincerely, say you’re sorry in the most humble and honest way possible— with hope that you’re forgiven, but understanding if you’re not? Have you ever been taught how? Do you know what the premise of “I’m sorry” is?

It means I wish I hadn’t and I won’t do it again.

I found the above note on the tumblr of a girl I met at a party a few weeks ago.  She’s a wonderful girl that I spent a bit of time with at said party.

There is a backstory to the following apology below.  Although it has already been discussed with the person involved, I was moved by her post to add more to it here in the public space.  The rabbit hole goes deep with this tale in which I view the experience to truly be something that I will smile about and forever treasure in my mind, regardless of what happens in the aftermath.

And to you “my” dear sir so & so…

I’m truly sorry I reacted the way that I did.  Hopefully someday you may see to the sincerity.. of moments so pure and beautiful that in the aftermath (I hope it’s a see you later, rather than a goodbye)in my heart of something magical in its own right rather than the tainted disdain it may very well likely (doubtfully) have become.

I realize that if I’ve waited this long for 1 legendary moment, regardless if there’s more after, what a great moment to have to look back at.  Here’s hoping that you will not only remain there.  Here’s hoping you visit me in the realm of… whatever way you desire, if only for another moment once again.

Strong Enough

A few weeks ago I was on a rooftop with someone dear to me & a woman in a cafe started singing this.  So we danced. And for one moment it was wonderful, even though it was nothing but a moment.

I oftentimes find myself wondering now if I will ever find the right man who will love me unconditionally and.. well deal with the fact that I’m not perfect.  I thought I found that man a few times.

Perhaps I really had found him.

Or perhaps it was a mirage.

I always seem to hold onto the ones that people seem to tell me I should let go.  I don’t believe in hopeless causes. I… I’m realizing by the small things that people do, that I’m worth more than I gave myself credit for.  This is not to say that I think I am better than anyone else.  It is simply saying… I’ve learned that I am capable of receiving some amazing acts of devotion from all of my relationships- which are happily reciprocated in the ways that I can.

I think it’s easy to forget just how much those little things mean.  It’s ironic because the very acts are simple in it of themselves.

Perhaps it’s why I love sending postcards so much.

Or smiling at everyone I see.

If it makes their day even remotely as much as it makes mine when I receive one, then I’m doing alright.

Are chivalry and romance really dead or is it just hibernating? Believe it or not, it exists here in LA.

I’ve been very fortunate.  I’ve experienced a spectrum of emotions.

  • I’ve gone on terrible dates.
  • I’ve gone on absolutely AMAZING dates.
  • I’ve been a spoiled brat.
  • I’ve been happily poor and just warm enough with love.

When will that man that’s strong enough step forward and show it?

Probably when I say… I’m strong enough not to need one either way.  But damn it would be amazing to have a partner in crime sometimes.

Douchebag alert! Username: Durgie

Being a single woman in the greater Los Angeles area, I must say, like most every city, there is no shortage of complete and utter douchebags.  These douchebags give the male race (and the ones that date them) a bad name and thereby ruin it for everyone.

To be fair, there is a perfectly acceptable balance between douchebag and prince charming.  If a man is too nice for example, his chances of sleeping with me reduce drastically.

I didn’t used to know what I wanted.  I was a whiney baby.  But I since pulled my head out of my ass and realized exactly what that is.

I discussed it a bit in the blog “Emotional Masochism” but for those that didn’t catch that, here’s a rough recap:

For me, I’m looking for a very specific catch.

  • I want a man that’s not afraid to be a man.  That means- driven, passionate, goal oriented, and provider.  I do not care about how much money you make.  I tend to be drawn to artists just as I am successful people.  I have dated high on the food chain finance wise, as well as at the bottom.

John Lennon once said “All you need is love.”  And when done properly, he’s completely right.

  • I want someone that’s compassionate to my needs, but I also don’t want a doormat.  You have needs too and sometimes I’m a disrespectful bitch about them.  Make sure I remember that, but do it in a way that’s nonverbal or verbal when needed and in a way that I feel secure.
  • There is a fine line between emotional abuse and tough love.  I think every woman needs to learn where that line is for her and pass it along to her gent.  If he’s a gent, he will understand.  If he’s not, then proceed to walk all over him and let him know that he’s not.
  • I want someone who is going to be there when needed.  But I do not need a constant babysitter.  Babysitters are for girls, and I am a woman.  Granted, there are times when I’m also in need of a babysitter.  However that’s what female friends are for, and/or a therapist.  My problems aren’t your problems.  A real woman takes care of all of that for herself.

Summation:

What is it that I want?

Control enough to lose control and yet still be all right.

——

But this is in regards to a recent email I was sent, by username Durgie.

I belong to quite a few websites and internet dating is the same as in every metropolitan area.  Quite frankly, there’s an epidemic of douchebags in the greater.. resident planet all of us hail from.  However if anyone from the Moon is reading this, I’d just like to mention that I’d love to taste moon cheese at some point.  I’m a conneseuir of cheeses and.. well I hear that is epic in nature.

Here are the letters exchanged between me and Mr “Durgie:”

Durgie [2.16.9, 9pm]:

boo* happy late valentines =) keep warm, and if not.. i have blankets ;D

Me [2.16.9, 11:06pm]:

LOL. happy commercially induced saccarin pocketbook drain day to you too 😛
& welcome to (name of the site)
Durgie [2.27.9, 1:30pm (apparently my work computer shows the future)]:
oh you know it!!! more of a reason for a guy to buy a girl chocolates to get laid!
Ok Mr.  At this point you are deemed pathetic as well as a loser and need to be told as such.  Prepare to be vaporized.
Me [2.27.9, a few minutes prior to transcribing this post, but showing at 3:30pm work computer time (i hope that means its beer thirty soon then)]:
Scandalous:
Just because I have the aka of that on the net, does not mean that I’m into you.  If I am, I’ll let you know.
Otherwise, comments like yours are really just in poor taste.
It’s things like that that are probably why people like you don’t get laid that often.  Except in which case, that you live in LA.  There are plenty of dumb broads that will think those comments are flattering.
I am not one of them however.
That said:
Have a most splendid Friday.  Best of luck to you.  And please refrain from messages like the one below ever again, or I will block you.  Furthermore, just an FYI, that won’t work on about 85% of women, regardless of what location you happen to live in.  So unless you really want to be fucking that bunny rabbit as your avatar on here shows, you might want to remember that.
Kindest regards,
Js.
So there you have it.  Today’s douchebag of the week award goes to you Mr Durgie.
And now I have to go record some video for a project to be announced later this week.
Ciao and happy hunting ladies & gents.

De-preciation

A text around 7pm on Valentines Day…

“Go to your front door please.”

I put some jeans on.  Wiped the tears from my eyes.  I could barely breathe.  It had been a day of harsh reflections.  This Valentines Day, as cheesy as it sounds, I was going to be my own Valentine.

Sitting in the corner were a few things: the newest issue of The Walking Dead, Batman #686, a sticker, and a heart shaped locket.

“Where are you?” I texted back.

“I thought I was ready to see you.  Waited for a bit for someone to open the door.  But then lost my confidence.”

It’s been a month.  And time does not seem to heal these wounds for so much bittnerness hath been created.

Against all other judgement.  Against my own judgement.  I started to fall deeper into an abyss.

A man who once showed so much strength and conviction to get through the days that it kept me moving… was a shadow now.  And for a craftsman of light such as I, it stung that much more.

He didn’t understand.

Months and months of him having little to no time for me.  I found myself losing myself.  Many nights, I cried myself to sleep wondering why this man who claimed that he loved me, and showered me with matierial affection, failed miserably where it counted most.  I stopped seeing friends as often.  Part responsibility.  Part sacrifice for him.

But then it became petty.

He was working so hard for that picket fence he said.   Toiling away for that bottom dollar.

Until the day where my best friend came back into town.  He’d been overseas for 6 months.  I wanted this boy to come meet him.  I wanted to have an evening out with 2 of my best boys.

I was thrown more bitterness.

I went through it anyway… the way I always knew how but didn’t always show I knew better.

I spoke to friends.

I went out.

I went to work.

I saved my money.

I cut back on the excess.

I cut back on everything.

I needed the time for myself.

To reflect and appreciate what mattered most.

“I’m raising my standards with people each time they piss me off… and they’re dropping like flies more and more.  I used to have 60 phone numbers in my phone.  It was all the people I’ve met in my life.  I now have 12.  So consider yourself lucky.  You’ve outlasted some amazing people.” my friend from a small town in Alaska (the same Sarah Palin is from) told me.

Because life has to go on.

Because you always have to be moving forward.

I stopped waiting around for someone who did not value my time.

I was alive again.

“Where are you?” I texted back.

“I thought I was ready to see you.  Waited for a bit for someone to open the door.  But then lost my confidence.”

Dear the grip,

I feel that you do not appreciate me.  When you truly love someone… this is not the proper way to behave.

I want to thank you for everything that you have done for me.  For everything that you are doing for me with the coorespondence we are still having.

You say you do not have confidence.

You say I hurt you by having… whatever moments that I have.  They are my moments.  They are the moments of the people I share them with.  They do not belong to you.

You choose to not be part of them.

You chose not to want to be here.

These, are… yours.

Free will.

Live the way you want to.

But live while you are living.

Lest you miss out on something wonderful.

Where the road will take us, for that I am uncertain.  I will be forthright and honest… I do not know if we shall walk this road together or if we shall part ways.  Perhaps for a little while.  Perhaps forever.  Perhaps for many lives to come.  For I cannot make promises or guarantees of anything.  That is something I have always been constant in telling you.

I love you.

I love you as a person.

But lovers we shall be?

Perhaps we both know the answers.

I guess time will tell though.

Because life has to go on.

Because you always have to be moving forward.

Free will.

Live the way you want to.

But live while you are living.

Lest you miss out on something wonderful.

[To be continued…]

It’s just a prick…

The brightly colored large tacks that hold up my French prints have been falling off mysteriously.  I’m not sure as to why exactly.  They’ve been on the walls months.  It’s only been starting recently.

Perhaps gravity is setting in and the weight is pulling on them.

Perhaps it’s something else entirely.

But when another tack and picture fell he instinctively went to fix it.

My room is still in shambles from the Holiday activities.  You didn’t think that just because I’ve been off the radar meant I’d become a nun did you?

It had been a romantic evening.  Dinner and then a moonlit walk on the pier.  It hadn’t been completely perfect, but it was damn near that way.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.  After everything with Mr Parker.. of saying my goodbyes and throwing pennies to the air on New Years.

Polyamory.

Sometimes it’s.. not the greatest experience for my lovers, specifically for him.

We were about to lay in bed.  We looked up.  He noticed the line print fall.  It was the second one to fall this week.  He went to fix it.  I told him not to worry about it.  He was trying to be a gentleman.

Disastrous.

He fished around the clothes near the side of the bed looking for the brightly colored tack.  He didn’t find it.

He found something else.

That.

And there was a moment of silence as he picked it up off the floor and looked up at me.

“I always get up afterwards and go to the bathroom.”

I couln’t breathe.  For a moment there, despite my honesty, I was worried that I’d blown it.

“It’s probably from one of our multiple sessions.  I’m sure it’s nothing.  Don’t worry about it.”

He went to the bathroom and threw it away.  The silence was deafening.  I hung my head a little lower.

Please don’t tell me I ruined it.  Please don’t tell me I ruined it. Please don’t tell me..

I…

ruined…

it.

Fuck.

I did didn’t I?  God damnit.

To be continued…