Head Stuff

Click at your own peril caveat: Totally self-indulgent, shouldn’t-even-post-this, ridiculous stream of consciousness whinge. Does not require “the world is full of rainbows” comments. Begs to be derided as drivel and left to rot on the sidewalk. Capishe. Good. Now where was I…


Just today.  Now.  I looked at you and wondered why it’s so hard to let myself be loved.  Why this little skeptical moue invades my face when I think about love.  Romantic love.  The “I love you” love.  Not those fierce moments of “I’d do anything for you” fondness you feel for friends.  Or that half-fearful, innate, just-there love of family.  That love you feel for someone when you look at them and think “Oh wow.  How fucking lucky am I.  All this, and your bad bits don’t freak me out”. 


Intellectually, I know I deserve to be loved.  I know I bring good things to the connections I have with people.  I know I’m generous and forgiving.  I’m fairly slow to judge.  I’m not particularly interested in what you have, but rather in who you are, where you come from, what makes you light up, where your lines are drawn, what makes you you. I’m aware enough to know that your stuff doesn’t have to involve me, and that sometimes the best response is just to listen.  I’ve come to a compromise about my wobbly bits; just because I don’t like them, doesn’t mean they are unlikeable.  I like other people’s wobbly bits and so it stands to reason that some people must like mine.  I know what I like, and what I don’t.  And I’m pretty good at articulating what pisses me off, which means you don’t have to play that unbelievably destructive guessing game; I’ll just tell you.  And I’m getting over equating sex with love too, which has pros and cons.  The pro being that I’m pretty into lots and lots of indulgent pleasure.  The con being that now I don’t have to jump your bones all the time to show how much I like you.  I’m self supporting.  I don’t have completely weird compulsions.  I only have a handful of revolting habits, and most of them I don’t indulge in public.  I’m good people.  I know this.


But still.  I’m wondering.  I’m reminded of that old saying by Groucho Marx; “I don’t want to belong to any club that will accept me as a member.”  Exactly.  What’s with this ridiculous little niggle.  This crazy idea that love is dangerous.  That love isn’t for me.  That something is wrong. Must be.  Because seriously, it’s cramping my happiness-quotient.  It’s not like I’m staying up at night, pondering and gnashing and second guessing and dissecting.  I’m not that kinda girl.  Most of the time.  It’s just in those moments of intimacy.  Those quiet, just-us moments, when first my heart contracts, then it plummets.  And I want to close my eyes.  Hard. Because it’s too big.  To need someone.  To let them need you.  Especially when I’m so damn good at being just me.  And I wonder what you see, when you see me.  And if I’m all that.  Or if, in three months, six, a year, five; you’ll be looking at me the way that guy in the lift was looking at his wife, thinking “what the fuck”.  I don’t ever want you to look at me that way.  I don’t want you to look at me in any other way than the way you do know.  And I know that’s not reasonable.  Things change, people change.  The small stuff get’s sweated, whether you want it to or not.  And then I think I’m must be fucking neurotic, because this is stupid.  This self doubt.  This tiny nugget of pain that says “he can’t love you. He can’t.  Man, you’re a fool.” And I think, fuck. Chica.  You think you’re doing so well and then you’re faced with a wide big fab thing and you go “um…I’ll get back to you.”  Not good. Which reinforces that little internal cycle of viciousness; if he really knew, knew you weren’t that confident, vivacious woman who dances in the street and drinks beer from the bottle, he’d go, he’d leave, he’d run.  And even if he didn’t, he’d know. And that knowledge would be power.  And, at the heart, I think I’m too fragile.  Even when I know I’m not.  That in my head it would be worth it. I know.


And then I take a deep breath.  Remind myself that we all do this. Somehow, in some facet of our lives.  Every single person I know, we all doubt and question and pause in fear. Even the people who seem to have it together.  And I breathe again.  And I acknowledge how rare these moments are.  How small they are in the grand theatre of my life. 


And I shut the fuck up.


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24 thoughts on “Head Stuff

  1. Martin says:

    Thomas Crown: Oh, I enjoy women.
    The Psychiatrist: Enjoyment isn’t intimacy.
    Thomas Crown: And intimacy isn’t necesarily enjoyment.
    The Psychiatrist: How would you know? Has it occured to you that you have a problem with trust?
    Thomas Crown: [smirking] I trust myself implicitly.

  2. Rox says:

    You know babe, you just gotta roll with those feelings and live and love the way you do best: living la dolce vita.

    It sucks sometimes though, having emotions and feelings.

  3. daisyfae says:

    Less “thinkage”. More “fuckage”. And a gentle reminder that “happiness” isn’t a destination. it’s a place we sometimes are lucky enough to stumble upon as we make our way toward “the end”. But for what it’s worth? um… me too…

  4. The Tart says:

    Well put.

    Your not alone in those feelings. Besides me, the 26 year old guy I’m dating expressed the same feelings this weekend. A guy, who knew? Being human is harder than we all thought … But when it’s good it’s good, Enjoy!

    ; *

  5. thegnukid says:

    without daring greatly and taking a chance on love, we never realize the heights it can take us to. but the depths it can just as easily drag us to are devastating. nonetheless, despite leaving shards of my heart littered in my past, i will still seek love… whether in the merest hint of closeness with a friend or the full swan dive into the unknown waters of full intimacy, hoping those waters are warm and inviting.

  6. egadfly says:

    Love is dangerous. Love is for you.

    You think you’re doing so well and then you’re faced with a wide big fab thing

    Yeah, one of the wonderfulnesses of being loved is the way it sometimes reminds you of the stuff you need to work on in yourself. Seeing the challenge and rising to it – and reminding us that moments of doubt and fear are normal and nothing to be afraid of – means of course that you are doing so well.

  7. kyknoord says:

    “…I don’t have to jump your bones all the time to show how much I like you…”
    Oooh, I’m not sure it’s worth the risk. I reckon you should continue doing it all the time, just in case…

  8. Dolce says:

    @ Martin > loved that movie. Both versions. And you’re right. Damn right. *sigh*

    @ Rox > Ja. Although some feelings are pretty cool. Like the bliss of a new pair of Carvellas! *grin*

    @ Dais > Yeah. I’m of the opinion, too, that happiness can often be a choice. And it’s a choice I make pretty well. It’s just those dark lit moments. But I’m going to take your advice on the more “fuckage”, thankyouverymuch. 😀

    @ The Tantric Tart > I’m seriously starting to realise that everyone has these feelings, on some level, at some time. But that in a success driven world, it’s not prudent to share them. Fuggit. Pass me the vino and let’s get maudelin.

    @ Gnu > “a full swan dive”…I like that. And hey. I avoided relationships for 10 years. ’til I realised that I was cutting my nose off to spite my face. Just trying to be brave and acknowledging that it’s harder than I thought.

    @ Egadfly > Aye. Our lovers are the mirrors to our fractured selves. Someone said something like that to me once. And it makes sense. And I suppose the point is to keep growing, keep taking new challenges, keep moving forward.

    @ Kyk > *snort* Hey, if we’re comparing jumpage to likeage, the LB must already know I like him; very, very much!

  9. Tyger Katt says:

    You know, life sux, generally speaking. If you can grab a few moments of happiness and butterflies doing the tango in the pit of your tum, why not?

    In the words of Steve Winward (yup, I’m THAT old), “Just roll with it, baby!”

  10. jenty says:

    I love the way you wrote that. I think we have thoughts like that at times. I do anyway… I’m not worthy sometimes to be loved.

  11. Dolce says:

    @ Kattya > Now I’m singing that song. Which is no majorly bad thing. Lalala la

    @ Jents > Thank you. For both the compliment and the company 🙂 Even if we know it’s crap.

  12. Sjoe. It’s been a while. And why is it that the best of ourselves is always at war with the worst. That we kill (or often come close to it) that which makes us whole. Oh for abandonment and the ability to escape the ego and the brain and every last little analytical bit of yourself that would make you feel unworthy, less, not deserving of sucking the marrow out of love.

    Imagine the bliss of just falling in love with complete and delicious abandon. Regardless. Being completely in the moment. Absolutely. Immersed in every quiver without even thinking of where it will take you or how long it may last. Just being there…

  13. Parenthesis says:

    I call it being in an existential fugue. Although it’s more than that, isn’t it? Lovely sentiments, beautifully phrased [as always], tell me, do you stay up all night just so you can post these little gems and wow us every morning? Or are you like Ten Miles, who dashes off absolute jewels without even raising a bead of perspiration. ‘Cos if you are then I hate you too 😉

  14. And I’m with Daisy Fae on this one. Dang. That woman should become a psychologist.

  15. daisyfae says:

    @MdW – not giving up my daytime gig. it pays well, i get vacation, and the crazies i work with aren’t observant enough to realize i use my MAD SYCOLOGY SKILZ to get them to do my evil bidding. besides, i’d have to “heal myself” first, and that’s too much for even a highly trained professional, let alone a hack…

  16. Dolce says:

    @ Mandy > And why is it that the best of ourselves is always at war with the worst.….mmmm. Good question. The ultimate internal battle of light and dark? To keep us humble? So that we’ve got something to be proud about? I donno Mands. The more I think about it, the more I think it’s all just chemicals. Our internal biological imperative. Which is why we can do abandonment in our teens, when our bodies are ripe and ready to breed. But it gets harder as we get less biologically viable. But then I think that I’m becoming a bit old fat cynic. And I shut the fuck up again.

    @ Ms P > I hate to say it, P, but most of this stuff is dashed off. It shames me that I don’t try harder. Make more of an effort. But I do think about stuff for ages before I write it. Words or sentences lurk into my consciousness and then settle in, like a niggle. Until I spew ’em out. I often don’t read them again, because I’m so embaressed by all the spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. Ag. Why am I telling you this? Warble warble.

    @ Mands > Dr. Fae: “Get on my couch, baby, and let me heal you.” Patient: “Ooooh Mama. Prrrraaaaaise Jesus. I haz been healed!”

    @ Dais > *snort*….what’s sad, is that the manipulation is so easy. *sigh*

  17. jade says:

    Really like the way you put that all down. Usually my words come out my mouth in one big burp.

    We all laugh and we all have stupid nigley things we think about.

  18. Dolce says:

    @ Jade > Hey…welcome to The Good Life! *cackle* that’s pretty much what this is…a big brain burp. And ja. That’s what makes it ok….that I know it’s just my version of the human condition.

  19. Vapour says:

    But did you cum?

  20. 302 says:

    oo la oo,

    oo la oo,

    ah hey!

    repeat a few times.

    pretty catchy

    and see you are cured, what happened to that head st… oo la oo, oo la oo, ah hey.

  21. Dolce says:

    @ Vaps > Jjjjjjjjeeeeeeeeez dude. Straight into the gutter. *rolls eyes*

    @ 302 > Allll together now….”oo la oo…”

  22. 302 says:

    it’s a bit slapstick but i like it, what do you expect with something that starts oo laa ooo. great for shifting your consciousness too the less serious like nodding your head and maybe even wiggling your bum.

    [audio src="http://www.box.net/shared/static/f8hjiay04s.m4a" /]

    there you go, the real head stuff.

  23. vapour says:

    Well Dolce just thought it apt that I mirror the male version of your thoughts on love 😉

  24. Dolce says:

    @ 302 > I like wiggling my bum and it is one of the best ways to get out of the dumps. Ta muchly, Mr 302.

    @ Vapour > *sigh*

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