Sunday Session #11 | The End of A Mini Series

This morning, I woke from a deep sleep to find a slither of sunlight peeking through my curtains because I hadn’t closed them properly last night. As my brain and body adjusted from being sound asleep a few seconds prior, I took a couple of silent moments to clear the sleep induced fog from my mind and to remind myself that no matter how hard the day would get, all I needed to do was slowly breathe in and out.

Soaking up those few remaining moments of being wrapped up in warm blankets that smelt of cotton and faint traces of laundry detergent and sunshine, my morning brain fog gave way to a somewhat clearer and functioning mind as the cogs began rotating. As a result, my first thought for the morning was how different Lady Blacksnot III and I’s life have become in the last 18 months and what essentially a year in the making could bring and has brought to us both.

The past 18 months, Lady Blacksnot and I have been willing and not-so-willing participants within a combined world that has been slowly and steadily shaping its self into something magical and greater. It has allowed for discovery and some rather defining moments of sheer love, stupidity and the continuing growth and development of friendship. I discovered in return that these 18 months have had a rather deep and somewhat lingering effect upon a mini-series I had originally created last year.

A mini-series that had been initially created and built upon the private concept of it being used as a coping mechanism while serving publicly as a visual diary of some sort. A series of sporadically written and graphically in-depth diary posts that featured heavily upon Lady Blacksnot abolishing the links to textbooks, years of study and no time for partying as she stepped, or rather openly jumped head first into the dating pond.

Having made this exclamation of self-independence and rebellion via text message, without knowing that my mental capacity of dealing with anything outside of my comfort zone was below zero, I made my announcement of how I hadn’t been able to essentially cope with this proclaim of wildness and how I preferred keeping LBS to myself.

With a computer and a blank Word document planted firmly in front of me, I simply switched off my mind and began writing everything that had been building away inside of my head and heart. Adding a few images to break up what seemed like an endless amount of text, both you and I read about my very public mini meltdown in my college car park before finding a nearest café for a double shot of ‘you’ve still got her’.

Because vodka would have given me permission to nose dive into a pile of weepy mess all the while having secretly formed a Pinterest board purely dedicated to planning LBS’ future impending wedding as My Big Fat Greek Wedding played away in the background. Having finished my marathon of Big Fat Greek Wedding and Sex And The City, I deleted every pin I had gathered as well as the folder and firmly shut down my Pinterest page.

Openly shuddering at the thought of having to transfer LBS’ file from ‘Crazy-Pug Lady’ to ‘Currently Dating’ folder because I had gotten used to the idea and comfort of having her in this folder, it gave way to a few nasty experiences. Alongside my racing heart beat which felt like I was going to have a cardiac arrest at any given moment while my anxiety increased, the nastiest experience was this scenario allowed for a silent bidding war to erupt between Lady Blacksnot and I.

By entering the agreement of a silent bidding war with Lady Blacksnot, I learnt for the first time in 8 years of friendship after being in daily contact with her, how incredibly lonely my life would be and was without her presence. While also developing a further understanding of how incredibly pig headed and stubborn we both are as a team but also as individuals and because of this diary post, I admitted to my moment of insanity being a result of my increasing level of fear.

My fear was an outcome of thinking I would not only be losing my wing woman, soul provider and future Godmother to my impending children within my ovaries; but more importantly, I was afraid the woman who had never judged, criticised and poked fodder at my sad and slightly pathetic attempts at trying to be me while having loved me, would be lost forever.

Feeling as if my heart was breaking into two from utmost loneliness, I pulled my head out of my backside and extended our version of an olive branch. Shortly after receiving my message, both of us found ourselves hitting the pavement in Brisbane city and when seeing one another, we threw ourselves at each other and simply held on for dear life.

After writing this announcement within my diary, I learnt because of being sent to the naughty corner that I would and had to share my toy with the other children in the playpen (sorry LBS, you’ll always be mine!) and how others would need to deal with my daily emotions of shock, utmost pride before ultimately circling back to the warm and deliciously sinful thought of death and committing murder.

Over the past 18 months, I’ve experienced a few drives to Brisbane on the pretext of prying LBS down from her shower curtain rod with my never-ending promise of c*ck sucking pina coladas and chocolate vodka cake being firmly tucked away under my belt. When I haven’t been prying LBS down from the ceiling and speaking about my future partner finding us in bed while surrounded by my loved and adored children, I experienced myself being questioned as to when I “would be settling down” and “popping out those grandchildren as your parents are such lovely people.”

Because in their personal thoughts, I appeared to be one of those ‘career orientated women’ who didn’t want children or the need for a partner in the working as I was about to graduate university. Not to mention, I was asked on multiple occasions if my biological clock was ticking away rather loudly and therefore, I must be ignoring it because I was being selfish. 

As to these 18 months and everything that has come with it, least to say Dearest Reader, there is only so much bullshit you can handle in a lifetime.

Especially when it comes to ‘settling down’ and can admit that after having reached a life defining pivotal moment a few times, I can vouch that my brain made and formed two solid decisions. One option being tossing the towel in and start dating anyone and everyone that somewhat ticks the list and the second being, promptly curling up on the couch with my good friends which are my third and very battered copy of Bridget Jones, a bottle of Mascato, Celine Dion on repeat and my reminder that love does exist: Mark Darcy.

Originally starting off my life defining moment with Bridget Jones and Mark Darcy, I was eventually pried down from the rafters with the promising declaration of endless chocolate cake and the open season to discussing cocks and everything that comes with owning one. Or in most cases as Lady Blacksnot and I came to discover, alongside you Dearest Reader, the resemblance of being a cock with a cock.

After having spent a weekend on the couch with my girlfriends Bridget, Toula and Carrie as well as the loves of their lives, my final lesson was discovering how my third year of college would play an ultimate part in defining and shaping my life as an adult and woman.

Even thought at the time it felt like I was merely plodding along with life while swimming against the currant instead of going with the flow, my third year of college educated me on the relevance of Maslow’s Hierarchy. But more importantly, taught me the relevance of Maslow’s third-tier regarding humanly needs which is defined as belonging and love for we as a human race, deserve utmost happiness and equally defining moments of finding our Mr and Mrs Right.

Or in the case of every little girl’s fantasy around the world, finding her shining knight or maiden in armour, who is going to come galloping upon her on the back of a gallant steed.

At the end of the day when it comes to filling in my blank pages within my diary on those wonderful and scary life lessons, finding myself enclosed in blankets with LBS next to me as I stroke my child’s head while we discuss our partners and what our life has come to and the adventures of dating within the pond, it has been an interesting 18 months to say the least.

These 18 months of writing about Lady Blacksnot III and I’s varied and somewhat different lifestyles has given way to me learning a few interesting lessons in return. Such as my great collection of ‘toys’ will ultimately end up being shared with other children in the playpen and as a result, they may come back slightly damaged, torn at the seams or possessing a greater depth of knowledge than I could ultimately give them. However, when they do return to my shelf after being played, pampered and plucked within an inch of life, I shall still love them whole heartedly no matter their condition.

With this mini-series on the dating adventures of Lady Blacksnot and Mrs Blackbutt (myself) ends this week, we wanted to let you in on a few secrets.

“On behalf of Lady Blacksnot III and myself, we wanted to let you know that we are quite content with where we are in our lives.

Although Lady Blacksnot III is on reprieve from dating dickheads such as Gelato Boy and Doctor Dick (who inspired the running commentary on why women don’t want your dick pics) and discovering the benefits of great take out, life as Scarlett and Mrs Blackbutt has been interesting.

While Lady Blacksnot III is on sabbatical from swimming inside of the fish tank sized dating pond, my fondness for creating and weaving stylish and appropriate names such as Chicken Shit and Junk Guzzler is also on sabbatical. As to those who have been wondering if I’ve been fortunate enough to find out my own shining knight in armour, I suspect that Mr. Darcy is close.

Or he is one of these options: a phone call away, can be currently located on a dating app under the cunning headliner of ‘Mr. Darcy Icognito’ and my personal favourite, a beach bum with a laid-back surfer attitude with sandy bleach blonde hair and a garage filled with racks of surfboards.

Our final words are, ‘where can I find the vodka and olives?’”

~Lady Blacksnot III and Mrs Blackbutt xo

 

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