ft. Splenda Daddies Diaries
Hello October 11th 2020… This morning listening to the weekly ‘Sunday Word’, I heard- “There is no defeat from the past that can obscure the vision of the future.” (- Steven Furtick)
Sunday’s wisdoms always hit different after restful Fridays, and ‘wild Saturdays.’
I say restful because Friday night this week, I went to bed at 6:45pm shamelessly.
After 5 weekdays of 5:30/5:55AM alarms, plus 1 lunch time 10mg medible on payday, and luxury take out dinner for 1 (after a boring work week of low budget rice-based dinners and/or ‘Daily harvest’ smoothies)- DAMNN!
^Good food and rest have never hit so nice: I woke up Saturday morning- 10/10/2020- ready for a miracle. Angel numbers in the date so today has to be magical- says our stars.
I read and practice some ‘angel affirmations’ to “claim”, then browse Twitter as my first app of the day to peek at- while still in bed still waking up.
Sexy naked girls are everywhere on my Twitter feed, as it’s primarily a NSFW marketing platform for cam-girls energy I enjoy, and their “OnlyFans” accounts.
So let’s start today’s “magic” here^ -makes sense to me.
Some of these girls give 0 fucks about sharing their bodies for viewing. You can peep who I follow @angelp0undcake if you’re curious about said twitter twats^
Kali Roses, a lovely porn star turnt Twitch streamer I support, tweeted a little after midnight Friday and it was one of the first tweets, I saw this very morning.
Ms. Roses wrote- “I was addicted to Xanax for 8 years… I’m happy to say I am 9 months Xanax free on the 13th.”
I retweeted this, because I have had my share of Xanax addiction as a past dancer -part time stressed Lobster House waitress- trying ‘not to dance anymore’ 5 years ago…
Sometime in 2015 my little sister introduced the pills to me because her best friend was/still is stupid. She shared, and had a source, and it led to 3 years of wasted time. I wish my sister never showed me. She secretly hates me, and wanted me to ruin my life.
In the peek of my ‘forgotten years’ during 2016> I had found other dancing ‘candy’ connections as well.
‘Strip club drinking mixed with ‘zanny-bars’ was a ‘lifestyle,’ on my ‘nights off from the Lobster House’. I was scared of cocaine and didn’t touch that stuff yet, thank goodness.
Waitressing stopped in April 2016, after almost 2 years of stress, and a few summer months later I landed a lovely daytime paycheck at an Orchard, but I danced in between. (East Bumble Strip club was a few towns away from the horse work, and farm food clerking)
Caretaking horses and sorting apples was THE BEST, but it was a 70-minute commute one way, 5 days a week. I was due for oil changes every 3 weeks…
The pay was very low, but my happiness/peace there was everything to me. It was only seasonal as after ‘Christmas Tree Season’ I was let go.
…sad and stupid: I crashed my 1st car nodding out on the last 3 highway minutes of the usual 50+ minute drive home from dancing in January (or February?) 2017 from East Bumble, and that was when I swore off the pills for good.
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^But let’s talk about the life experiences I had prior to this moment that gave me the balls to play this Level 10 of Russian Roulette:
It took many prior nights of calling my own shots and executive decisions. Perfect execution of my own ‘sex-free design’- to get this ballsy.
- I found my first AND ONLY no-hotels “sugar daddy” a few years ago. Marcus, a dentist who offered me a prescription for Xanax- in exchange for meeting him outside of the club for dinner and my time only.
Of course, he was seeking sugar, but I don’t subject myself to body sacrificing. It’s not for me. I only had the tease of “Splenda” to offer. Lap dances and my hands.
We’ve been ‘on’ and ‘off’ for years. I gently rear-ended someone in his BMW, September 2016, and he held the other car’s insurance claims(s) over my head as leverage and a threat to ‘finally get head’ himself.
We never fucked, and instead of submitting to oral- I threatened exposing him to his family, and dental practice.
I threatened cops, the prescription, and the full 9 yards of “crazy.”
It was like pulling a knife on him, but instead just a cell phone.
Note: There are no brakes on a crazy train if you threaten me! I will NOT be bullied, and never have been by a man old enough to be my grandfather.
I tolerate grief from 1 Pennsylvania man only- The End.
Marcus was frightened after pulling his cell phone on him; he stayed away from me a couple years after this ‘crazy train incident’ of an accident… but he conveniently came back around eventually.
Marcus ended up being a 3rd time is a charm “Splenda daddy” that stuck around to give me money for quite some time on a monthly basis* even thou my no sex rules were never changing and mega clear.
He never had the audacity to threaten me again.
His little hidden agenda however, was no different than the 2 rich ‘hotel hosting’ men in 2015 and early 2016- with the same pill(s) bonus offering, but of the ‘street kind.’
- 2015, I met with the first guy outside of the club for the first time, because he had pills and money for the taking- no sex ‘needed’. Nick owned a rich-town deli. I liked his Italian accent and humor.
I was forced to leave shoreline “hole in the wall” dancing behind me thanks to strip club buy out and new management. Our club-time together was over, as waitressing made me move north anyway, but 1hr 45 minutes was much too far for him to support me at my next club of choice.
In his 40s, but with a girlfriend sharing a small “luxury-city” condo, he spent all his money on drugs, and girls.
Innocent and harmless, I figured.
Nick never asked me to reconsider my thoughts on sex, unlike the others. Only silently hoped, he did. I genuinely liked him as a person sometimes, thou he was “too old” for me…
Bonus: his -under the table- deli employees adored me (‘Katie’), and they fed me any food I wanted prior to club shifts. Any to-go sandwich was mine with a $2 tip and smile.
His deli employees musta thought we were fucking -as I hit cannabis pipes in the walk in cooler with the owner like ‘no big deal’.
Down the street from his deli were downtown bars, restaurants, and 5 star hotels.
Nick gifted me water pipes, pills, and alcohol for our short-lived time together outside the club, along with whatever money I asked. He really liked me, and he hoped I would have an affair with him eventually.
He would just shove cash in my purse lowkey, instead of handing it to me like the others, because in his imagination ‘he wasn’t paying for me to hang out with him.’ We were “real friends.” Poor guy.
^After my platinum blonde (21 year old body) days were done: $300 cash (after tip-outs) was a ‘good dancing shift/night’ in any non-nude club 8pm to 1am.
^So $300 + 1 free 5 star hotel reservation was = to the perfect no-sex price tag that was worth 1 night of not dancing, yet time ‘entertaining’ -outside of the club secretly.
My top 3 rules: No sex + No kisses + No invading my space with a ‘hug’ or ‘cuddle.’ Dream the fuck on, and fuck off.
Fake name. Fake ‘real name”. Fake phone number. It was my own entertainment to distract the heartache from continuous Pennsylvania rejection from C.J….
The ‘name of the game’ in hotels was to 1st smoke, pretend to drink, drink a little, eat, and pretend to pop pills until Nick passed out 1st. Easy money.
The only times I took Xanax for real in a hotel room were 2 nights in Pennsylvania, because there’s only 1 man I trust with my life clearly.
(…The 2 “Pennsylvania black outs” are a story of their own thou. The 1st C.J never made it to me, but the second time- we made a sex tape I never got to watch…)
After a few in-state hotel swindles, Nick needed to quit “us,” because he wanted to ‘explore rehab’ supposedly, thou I just accepted he finally realized we were never having sex.
I was always honest and stuck my ground with sober and intoxicated men, in club or outside of the club. My personal no sex commitments, and refusal to sell my holes stemmed from trauma.
I was never going to let a stranger hurt me ever again, no matter what the offering. I’m not for sale.
“God’s children are not for sale.” – Sound of Freedom*
Shortly after I never saw Nick again, there came a new ‘stranger, not danger’, ageing man needing a pretty young therapist -that was me.
- During a city club dayshift in 2016- I found a traveling rich, NY living, glass-architect- ‘make believe sugar’ #2- Chris. Also in his forties, but he had a lot more money than Nick and Marcus.
He was first to believe in my dreams, and he listened to me well. I trusted ‘sober him’ just like I did ‘sober Nick.’ He took a special interest in me, and respected my wishes to not have sex.
‘Splenda dance’ arrangement was fine with him, but Chris had an ugly banana 5 inch dick, I refused to touch.
Chris trying to ‘win me over’, and “change my mind,” hooked me up with 5 star hotels out of state on two occasions- without his night presence even there! Best life era ever it was.
One a NYC Kat Dahlia concert, the second a NJ YouTube-personality book signing.
STUPID I blacked out alone in NYC, drinking at Kat’s concert.
I thought I paced myself well but all her music/lyrics hit me in my heart… Somehow I ‘ubered’ myself back safe… I must not of reached ‘airplane mode’ zonked, till I was back in my room.
Russian Roulette it was.
I wish I sang my hurt rendition(s) recorded in that top floor suite… Access to an elite “members only top floor lounge” and everything… I wasted my ‘Golden Opportunity.’
Chris was a nice ‘friend,’ as well as a Xanax addict, thou… He fucked around with the lower dose blue pills, vs white bars. So, he was a ‘harder bull’ to sedate when he stayed overnight with me, but same as Nick- I always won.
We only lasted a handful of times, before he too realized there was no sex, or hand jobs to be ‘winning’.
There was no changing my mind like he had hoped for- (DUH)
^After our last night together, during ‘room service breakfast’ he claimed he was going to “rich-people jail” for insurance fraud… Lawsuit money was saved if he just pleased guilty(?) and I never heard from him again!
During our brief/limited nights together in 2016 I had let him hand spank me, hit me with fancy whips, and undress me more than Nick ever got too, as Chris had dominance play he wished for- however his ugly cock never worked after too many pills and drinks per my evil plan. I allowed light BDSM since I wasn’t touching him.
Chris also gifted me my first decent sex toys thou, among other gift offerings (fancy leggings, a JBL speaker, Pandora bracelet with charms) in exchange for pretending to pop pills in front of him, ‘with him,’ as he medicated himself.
I always had a couple Airborne bottles in my purse to tuck them away in, and save them for later. (One bottle real- the other weed and pills.)
I only ever “collected” pills as ‘dancer candy’ to be taken alone another time- strictly during a club strip shift- it always made “my selfish employment world of choice” more fun.
Chris thought I’d be the one “too drugged to not say no,” but that’s NOT how this worked. He thought wrong, and I never felt bad for him.
Pussy stayed untouchable! Safe and in control always I was.
Eventually after dinner, drinks, and 2 pills, Chris would roll over and go to sleep during ‘lap dance time’ while I needed more time to let the Xanax take control of him…
At the end of it all, my speech rambling would exhaust these men. My ultimate argument against any use of my mouth, or pussy was Mr. Pennsylvania of course.
C.J. was the trump card in or out of any club VIP room. ‘My Royal Flush argument.’
The ultimate ‘move’. I win. They lose.
I identified as always grieving and never cheating on my hope of my ‘one day love story’ –that wasn’t just in my head. (Thank You)
I told ALL men that if I caved 1 time quick with my eyes closed I then by definition would become a prostitute : which is a sin, therefore God would punish me by taking away C.J. from me. That’s it.
I worried that if I ever ‘slipped up’ God would bring C.J the most perfect beautiful ‘computer-hacker smart’ girl he ever dreamt of, and she would be his and better than me.
^He would then tell me he was getting married, and I would lose him forever… my only and true dominant.
The thought of never seeing C.J again used to be enough to kill me back then, and so I never let it happen.
I would never be a whore without C.J. Only ‘his whore’ come our eventual happy-ever-after I never lost hope for.
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*The only stranger slut sex I ever sought out during the Xanax years thou- was 1 night in August 2016.
I found an ‘Instagram photographer’ from Europe that looked exactly like C.J. He was on a limited US trip when I slid in his DMs as an ‘inquiring US model.’
I met him in his hotel room in Mass to take photos, and I asked him to fuck me afterwards…
He only did so after dinner drinking later that night. He spoke French and was so unreal… I told C.J immediately too> as he had to see what his Europe Twin looked like! LIKE WHAT?
‘The French Twin’ “1 night stand” thou was from behind only, with a condom on, after slapping and choking the absolute shit out of me.
It angered him that I reached out to him just because of his face looking like C.J’s. He thought I liked him ‘for him’, and he wanted to “teach me a lesson” about playing with lust and attraction.
…I had never been hit so hard on the ass and in the face… and still haven’t to this day… Mr. French didn’t stop ‘dominating’ me till my whole ass and face cheeks were flush red.
He never tried to fuck my face thou, and also I took no pills that night but wish I had, because he just kept hitting me harder and harder.
Directing me to “take my punishment,” and when to talk back to him… The only thing missing was a blindfold or ball gag.
Pleading was only allowed when spoken to, and when directed to do so -with my head pulled up and back. His grip was almost frightening.
He was ‘mental,’ but I got wet for it accidently… even thou the rough skin infliction pain kept increasing...
…Holding me by my hair hard, and shaking my skull, while pulling me over his knee for more slapping> till my whimpering and ‘sex-begging for him’ was good enough.
I let him hit me because I felt I deserved it, and I mentally pretended I was in Pennsylvania getting slapped around AS I SHOULD OF BEEN </3
I still wonder about him in Europe now, from time to time… After giving me my film photos he blocked me thou… The picture on the top of this page is one of his he took without me knowing- the morning after he touched me.*
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ANYWAYS-
Back to yesterday- in current time:
2020- no sugar or paid Splenda shit- I had a ‘special date’ planned.
After my looney-tune sister set me up with her ex boyfriend’s not attractive roommate last month- I asked the universe to send me “sex I actually wanted.”
A few days later, I got a DM from a particular Cali-boy that used to DM me in 2016… (he’s my age now, 28) -but back then offered to ‘fly me out’ to him.
He wanted sex, and already knew all about my club dancing and C.J. *I always said “no thank you,” because WTF* but here he is 4 years later…
Covid has him “home” now with family in NJ one state over from me. This time he asked me “If he should drive down to me.”
I said yes, but I demanded a blood test to prove he was sexually healthy.
I was discriminating on his blue eyes and blonde hair I admit, but after breaking quarantine(s) sex-STDs are probably higher than ever… right?
I’ll be damned if the one time I wanted stranger sex, post March lockdown, it cause me harm. Harm that could be passed to C.J one day? I think not.
This is the first time I’ve wanted sex since that one night in March with Mr. Store Brand-Pisces- boy next store dick.
^For readers who are new here, hello, that erotic sex experience can be found here*
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My current logic: Perhaps I need to show C.J that I can have a “successful” livestream with a dick that isn’t his, before I earn the right to appreciate live streaming kink-BDSM-porn with his king sized cock…
Caliboy’s cock looked like a typical American dick pic from what I can tell on SnapChat. Not too big, not too small, not thick, but straight- no curve, and no foreskin.
Last night was the night I was waiting for. Cali-boy arrived and I met him at a local restaurant for 3 day weekend pre-game.
It’s Columbus Day Weekend and I was ready for a Pocahontas meets ‘pretend Europe/Italian cock’ roleplay come Monday camming!
(Camming that never worked anyway past one laptop battery thou)
Confession: Finishing up a special back tattoo last month I sought out 1 “emergency” Xanax bar from my devil’s advocate of a ‘sister’.
I’m considered clean I feel from 2016, because popping half a bar (1mg) for the sake of a higher pain tolerance with NO alcohol abuse is understandable I think. (It was a two time buy for 2020 only for both back tattoos.)
However, nervous to meet CaliBoy in person finally- I wanted to break out my last half bar… ‘Just 1mg’ before dinner and the drinks, because “holiday weekend” and “2016 memories.”
Then it was to be out of sight, out of mind- and never to be seen again, as I want no more tattoos at the moment.
^This plan to “get fucked up” with CaliBoy was a plan before going to bed Friday, hence I wanted EXTRA rest. This was ‘his audition‘ to be my webcam co-star, and I needed to be relaxed for it.
*Also, I drink once a month now, if that, and drinks on this “holiday weekend” was the first drinks to be had since August 27th!*
August 27th: the night I drank with my boss while a twister/tornado blasted thru the shop, and I was trapped there due to live power lines in the streets surrounding us. What else was there to do?
ALAS: Waking up to Kali Roses’ sobriety tweet thou- ruined this plan suddenly morning of… It was the Universe telling me “DONT DO IT.”
I couldn’t retweet a tweet about being clean from drugs, but plan to abuse the same drug later that night?! That’s morally corrupt and dishonest.
SO- I met for dinner, no pill in my system, at my local fancy Italian joint 2 miles from my house on the SAME ROAD as my house… *just to be told, after an quick appetizer and 2 round of drinks, that “STD testing was a waste of his time.”
Caliboy changed his mind about going to his local clinic, and what’s worse- is he tried to blame CORONA.
“Clinics are dangerous in the middle of a pandemic, I’m a clean boy” -he said with a stern tone that was full of shit.
I was immediately turned off. A real dominant isn’t a smart ass, ass-hole.
How disrespectful he was! I was done.
I got up to use the bathroom, and this is where the 10/10/2020 universe angel magic kicks in as Mr. Store Brand himself is over by the bar, talking to our server, on my way to the bathroom?!?
“Jhalil?-” I slurred drunk thru my mask half in shock, and half in disbelief, thinking I must be wasted after 2 drinks and 1 breakfast weed-edible combo. (again our sex ‘back story’ is here)
He turns around, eyebrows up, and greets me. He excuses himself from the server and talks to me a bit. I tell him “I’ve made a mistake being here tonight, but what about him??” Was I dreaming!?
He said he ‘just started working prep-help in the kitchen as Amazon warehouse hours are less with more employees‘… He was “on his way out the door, shortly, as a matter of fact“
There is a God and suddenly I felt as if Mr. Pennsylvania himself was here to save me!
I exclaim, yet whisper, while asking if there was any “crazy chance” I could get a ride home, and leave my car there for the night? With no hesitation but also confused, he said ‘yes,‘ and I told him to give me 10 minutes to say goodbye to CaliBoy.
In the bathroom drunk and overwhelmed by God- I start texting C.J, however then I stopped as I realized- he didn’t even know who Store-Brand boy was… or did he? Fuck… I’m definitely tipsy. We never had that random communication– I say to myself.
I also noted it was after 7PM, and flashing back to going to bed at 6:45PM just the night before, I felt it in my gut to “stop and think.”
C.J didn’t need headaches or half-stories when he works weekends, and has to clock in for 7AM… I had to backspace my texts, cry silently in the mirror a moment, then get brave and tell CaliBoy to “go home” calmly.
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When I get back to the table CaliBoy asked me “If everything was alright (?)”
“No. It’s not alright. I suddenly feel unwell, and I think this was a waste of time“- I start.
^He cuts me off after mimicking his “waste of time” choice of wording. He begins to gaslight me as if I could be manipulated to think:
“Don’t be dramatic- you’re upset over nothing. I drove hours to be here, so show some respect and settle down-” I hear.
” Settle Down?” …HA. OKAY– I think to myself.
In response, I chug the rest of my margarita (almost shaking nervous) then I pull out $30 cash and drop it on the table with “calm” sass.
“Listen to me, Mr. Know it All, this was a bad idea, you tricked me, and I’m over it. This cash is to cover my drinks, some food, and you can take home the pizza that’s still cooking, as it’s a long drive back“- I breathe as his eyes look upset.
“We didn’t even get the pizza yet-I’m not driving anywhere!”- he interjects.
“Then may I suggest a hotel room(?) as they are cheaper than ever right now, but it’s time for me to leave, as I’m no longer interested in what you have to offer-“
“-Excuse me? Time-out! You’re not going to feel bad making me drive back 4 hours back to NJ after I spend that time today JUST FOR YOU?“- he raises his voice a little bit. People are looking.
I lean in for the kill, because it’s over to me-
Lowering my tone, with intense diction using a shushed voice I say back:
“I only feel bad that I disgraced myself having unnecessary awkward text conversation with Mr. Pennsylvania about this whole testing bullshit, when you decided I wasn’t worth a 1 minute blood draw”
Quick to spit back- he replied “Oh, You’re still talking to him, even thou he thinks you’re nuts?? …Asking me to go back home right now- you are fucking nuts… this has to be a joke!?”
He leaned in now for his spite kill:
Intensely his last words spoken: “Just let me appreciate you better than he can anyway, OK? Just wait and see, but seriously, chill out! I’ll show you how it’s done best.“
I felt the rage of the Incredible Hulk suddenly spark thru the palms of my hands. Surely if I had been drugged w/ Xanax I would of assaulted him, and cops would have called perhaps.
A real man wouldn’t speak about other men so presumptuous. I saw stars spiking my inner rage so suddenly in ‘defense mode’. The disrespect burnt me.
Instead of lashing out thou, I mentally ‘grow up’ and storm ‘back to the bathroom’ just to sneak out the back door 1 door over- where the side parking lot was.
Game over CaliBoy.
I can never show my face in that restaurant again.
Less than 60 seconds later like a knight in shining amour, universe guided, there was Mr. Store Brand in his car hitting his vape blasting his music. CRAZY
I knock on the window, hop in, and he drives me away like dinner never happened.
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…It’s going to take a special kind of love story to top C.J if I really am meant to belong to someone else for the rest of my life, at this point.
I really thought CaliBoy could have been from the sky, Godsent, but no. He was a lesson learned. New Jersey men? Not the superior dick I’m looking for.
The bonus part of this night of universal excitement is getting back to the house… I have shaven pussy and I’m upset… but at the same time I didn’t want Store Brand dick.
He parks in his normal street spot a couple houses from mine, and I says, thank you.
I then bravely say, “I was gunna use up the last of my Xanax tonight, and I’m glad I didn’t, or I wouldn’t have thought quick enough to get out of there…”
I continue “Would you like to come over in a bit? I don’t want sex, but maybe some snuggles or something could be cool after I shower… you shower too…”
“Gimmie 20 minutes I got you girl, I got you. yea… whatever you want… yea…”– he trailed off as he fumbled his phone and vape in his hands.
I shower and almost an hour later Jhalil shows up in his pajamas freshly showered JUST LIKE I ASKED with his backpack from March with him. What a mind fuck… Time feels frozen.
But with his own motives- of course- him ‘dancing’ up my loft steps I smelled the whiskey on his breath. (Only fair as I had tequila in my system still)
“Oh I get the bedroom this time??” – he teased, excited and smiling. It made me smile to watch him smile.
He bounced on my fresh bed that I had prepared for CaliBoy’s travel, and in less than 2 minutes he blurted “So you fucked up still, Ma? Where’s those zans at?”
I gave him a stink face- “nooo… I didn’t take it, remember? It’s only one, but I couldn’t get myself-
Cutting me off there he boldly interrupts “SO May I have it please?? I never did it before and I want to: Please…Please- I never did and I got you home tonight babygirl…”
I was took back that he had the swagger to throw in the pet name while asking…I haven’t had this man over since March 9th- 7 MONTHS AGO- and now he’s asking me for my drugs??
I’m silent as I think, and he repeats “please,” + “I never did it before,” 2 more times in his best whining voice… the repeating himself must of been a ‘dad to a toddler’ thing… he was quite good at making me feel bad…
Fuck.
Here’s a man with 2 jobs, a father, and Godsent to me… maybe this last evil zanny belonged to him… If anything, that was a very dominant thing to do, really…
Would C.J. demand I give him my last pill that I was supposed to be sworn away from? I already drank so what did I need the last pill half for, if I was done with ink??
Grateful to be saved from CaliBoy’s mistake I hand over the last pill.
I tell him “Be right back, I’ll get you water bottle for that.”
His eyes widen and glimmer with excitement.
I come back in the room and he’s on his phone. I give him the water bottle and he says, “Whats dis?”
I reply– “to wash your pill down silly… (?)”
“Oh, nah, I shot it down”… his other hand now revealing an empty whiskey nip.
“How many of those have you had tonight?”– I ask realizing my mistake for not clarifying.
“Eh, just a few after work.. haha”
‘FEW’?!- I exclaim
Few meant 5 or 6 in boy world, not 3 or 4. I’m not stupid, but apparently I am.
“I can handle it- don’t worry. Let’s cuddle” -he gestures me.
I realize my karma quickly. This man saved me tonight and now he’s not even going to remember it. I flash back to Nick and Chris all over again.
He’s gunna pass out in a deep sleep and he’s not going to recall anything about me or tonight after work… it’s been 4 years since I watched and ‘waited’ for someone else to pass out drugged. I was taken back, but calm.
Maybe that actually wasn’t a bad thing(?)… maybe it was better this way?
He embraces me smiling, and I get lost in memory as I sunk my body into his. My emotions let go and I search my subconscious silently…
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In 2016 the last and only Pennsylvania ‘sex tape visitation’- before 2018- I took 2mg of Xanax 2 hours beforehand> to just ONE glass of cheap hotel wine.
^Yet, I passed out pretty quick apparently… not knowing any better, and C.J was disgruntled the next morning purely just confused. We didn’t talk about Xanax. What did he think happened to me??
I recalled nothing the night before besides bit and pieces of filming our video prior to wine. He left behind his white T-shirt that visit, and I’ve kept it all these years since.
(I only wear it as P.Js sometimes in bed when I need to focus on the computer at home for an extended period of time, or if I’m sick for comfort.)
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…In 2014 C.J -also whiskey induced- asked me 1 time only : “Why do you love me?”
I couldn’t explain back then without risking sounding bonkers, and I couldn’t really explain it caught off guard being called out…
Alan Watts can tell you better than I can ‘what it is- to really love.’ He says there’s ‘sanity in madness‘ and I feel this- but how do you tell someone that without sounding “nuts?”
“I knew I loved you when I felt crazy alive for the first time ever at 21? um- NO!” I couldn’t say that. but what’s worse is I said “I wasn’t (?)” I was embarrassed somehow and his intense eye contact made me freeze up mentally.
My “crazy” mental notes all got stored in my phone at the time back in 2013. I wrote some of my best ideas -fresh off my ex’s bong- and ALL after I met C.J that summer did my positive mind run wild with thought passion and creativity.
I dropped this prepaid Virgin Mobile phone in the break room at the movie theater in 2014 however, and so all my proof stays stuck in the shattered phone. Notes gone forever.
So, not knowing any of this^ what if in 2016 he asked my motionless body to wake up for him? ! ?
What if he asked me to wake up IF I really loved him?? What if he also cried? …The dark imagination of that made up in my head scenario spikes my heart to race with emotions.
FACT: “The nervous system cannot tell the difference between a real experience and one that is imagined vividly.”
^So I’m making myself sick with heartache instantly.
The post drunk cuddles with a man in the dark who feels and looks like Pennsylvania- on the very night I was going to surrender my body to someone new- is too much too handle…
I’m breaking down.
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Shockwaves from my own mental thoughts spark thru my wrists and palms and I whimper lightly… Storebrand holds me tighter, and now I’m silently losing my mind full speed lowkey!
90 seconds into the cuddle of a whiskey zanned-man over here, and I’m silently watery-eyed. The last time I had C.J cuddle me was also 2014 possibly early 2015… before the pills ever started…
I sit up and insist we sit up. He slurred “music?’ and we listen to his choice of songs, while watching my nightlights change color until he walks around my bedroom 30/45 minutes later.
“I feel it- I feel it- woah- I feel it” –he giggled, and used the bathroom.
I heard him crack open a new nip before coming back to bed. No chaser… yuck– I thought- but I was too tired to care…
About an hour or so later he was passed out quick, surely he had more than the ‘3 or 4’ -now ‘5’- hard liquor nips…
I one time auditioned at a nude club on Xanax (2mg) with a friend. Manager gave me a couple glasses of wine and I woke up confused in my girlfriend’s bed the next morning.
She said she got me home safe after I “passed out in the dressing room”
Somehow they still let me work there as long as I promised ‘never to pass out again.’
Perks of being beautiful- sick world it is.
Truly a drug of amnesia- this shit is.
Once he was in a deep sleep I let myself cuddle him again, and cry hard this time… I said I was sorry even thou he couldn’t hear me. I touched his face and wished for C.J.
I sobbed silently and now I was the one repeating myself….
I whispered with tears streaming down steady down my side cheek and in my ear “please believe me… I love you… please believe in me… I need you… please babe… -I did this and looked at my phone letting the tears drip onto his T-shirt.
I saw 11:09 when I started whispering, and purposely I waited for 11:11 on 10/10/2020 to repeat myself again out loud just inches from this man’s mouth.
Eyes closed zonked, he really was C.J’s ghost in front of eyes and brain… I stayed praying and crying a few minutes longer till I worry I’ll be messing with StoreBrand’s unconscious spirit.
“10:10 Portal on 10/10/2020“
“What you wish for instantly manifests” Expect: Good Luck, Abundance, Miracles, Positive Changes, and Magical Experiences”
^This was brought to me by a “moon/tarot” account on fucking Instagram. Call it Angels. Call it Witchcraft. but either way I believed it.
I just only hoped 11:11pm could be as magical as 10:10pm.
Closure and wish power I never knew I needed… I instantly felt better moments later. I sat up, cleaned my apartment and heat up some food while Mr. Storebrand slept.
I then shook him awake after midnight, and shoed him out the door.
“You wanna get freaky? …wait… did I fall asleep??” he asked half awake.
I said “no-go home, it’s late, no sexy time tonight babe.”
It took a few moments but he stumbled out of my apartment, and I walked him outside to make sure he was safe. I watched him go inside 2 houses down, and now *POOF* he’s gone again for another 7 months probably…
Spoiler Alert: He moved, and I never saw him again.
Mr. Store brand won’t remember coming over, and so far he hasn’t texted, and I’m just shocked how this universe works.
How was this MY real life?!
I went back inside, changed my pillow cases, prayed, asked for forgiveness for thinking about Xanax, and CaliBoy drama, and then passed out myself finally.
Enough crying. I actually think I got it all out of my system(?)
Cuddle crying lifted some kind of weight off my chest I never knew was there… I haven’t cried since thou it hasn’t been that long I guess since this happened.
Waking up and hearing “There is no defeat from the past that can obscure the vision of the future.” I know my prayers are heard thou, and it’s time I stick to my future goals.
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^ *the “God’s children are not for sale” quote from Sound of Freedom was added during a 2024 blog edit.
Reader’s note: thanks for reading a dozy of an entry, if you made it this far, sorry this is the longest post of all entries.
