I’ve recently discovered, after looking back on my January Favourites post, how much I actually like to look back on the past whilst thinking about where my journey is going and where I am going as a person, woman and blogger. After this moment of complete brain power, I realised that for those who write about their monthly favourites and/or similar posts to these, it’s an opportunity to put certain circumstances in their place and let bygones be exactly that, bygones.
I have also discovered as a result of writing last month’s post that it was a great way to mentally unclog the brain for the newest addition of the year and that being February. But it also allowed me as someone who creatively writes her frustration, anger, bitterness and many other emotions down into an outlet; all the while, building a bridge made from written words and effectively crossing the stream that appears to be the size of the English Channel.
Unlike January where I spent a majority of it, walking around wearing rose tinted glasses while slowly coming to terms of having been on a date with the world’s most racist cop, February was the complete opposite.
What others would deem as being the second month into the year of hell and it calling for a large vodka on the rocks with a twist of lime, I wondered what I deemed February to be like. Was it a month that called for a half pound chocolate vodka cake with extra cream as I shed, yet another layering of aborted unfertilised egg or a rather large vodka on the rocks with a twist of lime and lemon (since I like to break rules) at the thought of it being February and spending, yet another Valentine’s Day single and alone?
Rather, it was completely the opposite.
February, in my complete and honest opinion, was the month were I put into place actions that would allow me to build the foundations to developing what it is exactly I want for my life and how I perceive and see myself as. It was also the most entertaining month, particularly when it came to developing existing relationships and friendships I have with those and slowly but surely, distancing myself from others who have slowly burnt that bridge. However, the other main reason as to why I particularly liked and somewhat loved this month was because February was the month were no fucks were given at all.
‘So what exactly happened in February then?’ I hear you quietly ask.
Never having been exactly one to stay mom on a juicy piece of gossip unless it breaks girl code or sibling pact code, I shall tell you as to why I consider February to be an interesting month and why the following sections are particular favourites of mine.
For those who have been around the block a couple of times with me in the past and no doubt, have clung to the side of our hurtling car since I do not believe in driving the speed limit or keeping within the lines, we are all aware of the level of commitment I have towards Lady Blacksnot III Esq.
Not to mention, I am forever writing about our various lesbian lunches/dates/sex dates that have seen us walk around the metropolis we call home and holiday home. What casually turns from being the dinner of sweetness to the dinner of political domination, sexcapades and discussions from the perfection of vodka ratio to a martini, drunken dates that have almost ended up with sex or being spammed with horrendous and slightly deformed dick pics via Snapchat from wankers and the sheer horror of micro dicks.
As those who have been fortunate enough to escape my incredible driving capabilities and don’t have a shrink on speed dial as a result of entering a car with me behind the steering wheel and still living and maintaining a semi-normal life without the little thrill of danger thrown in for the greater cause of appreciating life, the woman that I speak of is still somewhat a mystery to me after nearly 10 years of being friends with one another.
The reason why I am a firm believer in Lady Blacksnot III being a complete and utter mystery to me is because I still don’t have a clear understanding of what lies beneath her skin like cloth. Even though I speak of her being a full time lawyer bitch, who eats and consumes men and women for breakfast like I’m casually sipping my coffee out of a previous lover’s skull and her undying loyalty of Harley Quinn and JL’s stalker; February showed me a completely different and somewhat surprising side to her that I’ve never seen or thought of previously.
In the moment of clarity when I thought our relationship had taken a dynamic turn and certainly not for the greater good because of a couple of comments that were made and the side serving of a few accusations, it gave me the opportunity to peel back a few protective layers and ultimately discovered just how LBS works and thinks.
During this time, our decade long relationship almost came to an end and over the next 10 minutes as the world stopped rotating and it felt like my world had come to a complete end; we both thought about where the other was coming from. Unlike other periods of time where I haven’t made the decision to pivot on a stiletto heel and walk freely back into that particular relationship, we mutually sent one another an olive branch in the form of a dirty sex story and an emoji of a martini.
That’s all it took for my world to start rotating once again and the heart ache of being alone and lonely to subsided.
Clearly as indicated in the picture of LBS and I at the top of this section, it still appears that we are ‘going strong’ with one another and unfortunately, I’m still yet to come out of my closet as a Lipstick Lesbian who only wears red when going down on her partner in an elevator.
Apart from my midlife crisis regarding the relationship between Lady Blacksnot III and myself alongside the not-so official announcement that I may become a Lipstick Lesbian (one day) was the moment I signed my name on a dotted line and walked away with the knowledge of having become a permanent addition to my local library.
Having spent the past 18 months having a weekly and sometimes daily debate with myself as I drove past the local library while heading to work or other destinations, I finally gave in to my secret desire. As I walked up to the counter that held a friendly and bright librarian assistant who told me the number of books I could borrow and asked if I wanted to join the monthly email updating on new books available, my sister watched on in fascination as I gleefully signed the dotted line.
When it came time to borrowing various books that often hold a unique smell that comes with old, weathered pages and the crackling of a spine being opened after a long shelf life, I left my sister browsing the Japanese anime collection and drawing books for figures and went about collecting my own various books from my already written book list. It then happened as I was heading towards the counter to loan my arms burdened with books when I noticed a small A5 sized book with a red binding cover jumped out at me.
As I took a step closer to peer at the book cover and felt my arms place the books I’d been lugging around on the floor in a neat pile, I grabbed the little book from the shelf. Feeling the warmth of the book flood my hands like it had been held onto for a while by a stranger and it felt like it had been specifically picked out for me like it was a sign or something, I glanced at the title and felt a smirk cross my lips as I looked at the book title of ‘Dear Sugar.
I discovered after skimming through the introduction of how ‘Dear Sugar’ came about after it being initially a play of words due to the Author’s nickname being ‘Dear Sugar Lips’, I wanted to see why this book had jumped out from between two much taller books.
Checking over my shoulder as it felt like someone was observing me and seeing no one standing there, I popped my thumb between a couple of pages and took a deep breath. Always having been one of those people to ask a question when something captures my attention and it feels like a sign, I pondered what the question should be before eventually asking, “should I write this blog post I have in mind?”
It was only after having asked this question that had been on my mind for a fortnight that the sensation of being watched stopped and I opened the page. After settling Dear Sugar in my ever growing pile of books to be loaned, Kaffy and I made our way to the counter and borrowed the lot.
Later that afternoon when we returned from gathering a few bits and bobs for dinner and having placed Dear Sugar on the edge of my bedside table, next to the collection of unread women’s magazines and Olay moisturising facial lotion that served as a reminder to keep my persistent youthful look exactly that, I pulled out my computer and began the process of writing the blog post I had been meaning to write for a month.
With the final touches such as proof reading and with the adding of photos as they can tell a thousand and one word stories in their own right, I scheduled it. Even with a few hiccups along the way such as a woman named Scarlett and the introduction of a few many vodka martinis, my honest blog post titled ‘As A Woman, Am I Too Picky When It Comes to Dating?’ was a mixture of many different things.
As to the favourite lesson I gained by writing this post and letting bygones be bygones in a very political ‘fuck you’ kind of way, I learnt the art of being docile, straight to the point and the joy of not hiding behind anything feels like.
Lastly, it also taught me that I can indeed Write Like A Motherfucker.
Until next time,