The world is an awful place. You’re just not safe even in your safe places. Like the Pulse shooting. Fuck homophobia and fuck heterosexual male fragility and fuck the racism that always follow in the discussion afterwards. People die of terrorism everyday, people die from mass shootings every day, people are killed for their sexuality or gender every day. We must mourn and remember, but we must be strong and party on claiming our rights. Human rights and equality are fragile things, and are easily withdrawn come the wrong regime to power. Things we take for given as we have won them ages ago, can easily be revoked or be given less importance.
Bromance be gone. Harder than I thought. He sent some hurtful hateful messages and I blocked him. We still have to talk I guess as we must sell the flat or have one of us buy the other’s share. And husband, well, on is off is on is off is on. We just can’t decide. Plus I had to have a minor surgery in my stomach so I haven’t been able to work or do anything for weeks. But at least I now have less pain than before, which is good. They both behaved rather nicely after the surgery.
So. Perhaps me and my husband and the bromance shouldn’t have fucked it all up. Perhaps we should have.. It’s such a coincidence how every time I make poor choices I end up with bad luck.
These last two weeks I’ve been arguing with everyone. Husband decided he was just fed up with me, and bromance called my feelings a kind of cancer. Lovely. Yes I’m strong willed and can be a pain in the ass, but there’s a heart of gold on the inside. I’m just freaked out over a surgery I have to go through mid-june. Life’s like a dick, if it gets hard: fuck it. I’m done with these two.
Some things go nowhere. Apparently bromance is one of them. We were on again for a few weeks, and off, and on and off again. I’ve been halal in the streets and haram in the sheets.
I’ve been too haram for him. I’ve been perfect. And now it’s off again.
We were off business wise, then on again. And even more on. Then he found a great project to work with, and didn’t ask me – which basically means – if not my friend, he’s my enemy [that’s how I work]. Sadly he couldn’t go on with that project as he didn’t get to work with my money. Sadly, gladly, what ever. I guess he resents me for having demands about my money. I would invest in the blink of an eye if he just said the word, but he won’t.
I’m in such a weird place right now. Bromance and I ended things quite badly. Which is awful – since we work together we have to keep appearances professional and correct. Also we both have an internship at the same company and will write two different papers on it, together. I mean, I’m literally heartbroken, and then we have to stay nice to each other (which is a good thing honestly), but then again.. He buys me dinner, he wants me to spend the night, he stays close, he gets physical and I’m devastated he doesn’t want more. But also it’s good. It’s honest. I’m not going to leave my man, and bromance will never get out of the closet. An affair, or more, would be too hard for us to handle. Just the fact that people started asking about us made him freak out. Hell it even makes ME freak out when people ask about us. I’m chasing something I can’t get and I know it.
Then again. We work really well together, on a professional level. That could be enough. It’s just that feeling of “how can it be wrong when it feels so right”. On a private level I’m not sure that I can get over the fact that when we started getting really close and intimate he freaked out and said it’s wrong to be gay. Talk about a knife in the back. In the heart. I most likely will never trust this man again. But then he puts his hand on my thigh and I forget everything. Puts slices of orange in my mouth, ask me if it’s sweet, and when i reply “yes” he wants the slice back from my mouth. It’s a weird place. When I spend the night he makes me wear his underwear: which would be fine if we were 13 years of age, but as adults? Why the hell does he want my dick print in his underwear? Is this the man I’m starting a company with?
On the bright side my man and I are in a really good place right now.
[edit: got some more likes, on both twitter accounts so] ]I did this on Twitter: got some likes. If you like it some more, I’ll add more confessions…
My entire well being is hung up on others.
I have had sex on stage.
Out of all that I’ve had sex with only 2,75% are women, but I still have the right to call my self bisexual.
They say that the first million is the hardest (starting from nothing). They are mistaken. I found the third to be the hardest.
Eight years and six months ago I was on social well fare, and literally had nothing at all.
I’ve never had sex on a train. But I’ve have had sex with colleagues.
I’m completely wild with the colour yellow.
I have a social security number in three countries.
This year (2015), I’ve had sex with the total amount of two people.
I’ve never tried massage. I got a gift card once for a massage but never dared to go. I’m afraid of someone touching me like that. For real.
There are things I wouldn’t even tell my best friend.
I’m meticulous enough to clean with a toothbrush and cotton wads, just to make sure that the tiniest nooks get clean too.
I have two finished novels in a drawer. So to speak. And several unfinished ones.
On my best exhibition I sold over 50% of the paintings. On the weakest one I only sold one item.
This year (2015) like last year, I make more money on my origami than on my literary work.
I don’t have a driving license, never even drove anything.
My cock is probably smaller than your expectations on it.
Have low confidence. Bad self esteem. I listen more to all the negative stuff you say than the good things.
There are crushes that still, after ten years, are texting me about getting it on again, so probably I AM that good, or my cock is THAT BIG. For ever texting. Forever.
I have four different credit cards. In four different banks.
Just once I’ve voted for the same party in municipality, region and government. Just once. The feminist party that was. I usually vote for one party on each level.
I’m not a morning person. But I can fake it.
I say I love to tan naked. Number of times I’ve been to the nude beach 2015: zero. Number of times to the beach at all to tan: perhaps 7. Number of times to go swimming: probably 7 too.
I’ve written more books than my own.
I eat too little.
I’m so afraid to fail. But how long will one last when working 50%, studying double courses at school (200%), I barely have time to my self? (But I want this so bad!)
I’ve rectified number 6 now LOL
I think it’s ok to paint your old fish bone patterned wooden floor.
My mind is filled with all the things I never said.
I’m a fluent speaker in four languages: Swedish, Dutch, Danish and English. Also know my way around a few more: German, Norwegian, French, Italian, Spanish. But I don’t know a single word in my mothers family’s native languages [meänkiele & romani].