Let The Lonely In

So here is the deal.

I guess you could say, I am still ‘newly’ single, I haven’t been on any dates or bumped naughty bits with a stranger….yet… One of my pups is now with the ex, while I kept the other one and the cat. The ex’s stuff is mostly moved out, a few  random ef2009e3be3fc465artifacts still floating around, which will soon be on eBay if he doesn’t collect. Oddly, enough, my feelings didn’t truly hit me until the ex took away my friend, the Xbox 360. This my friends was a sad, sad day because I ultimately realized, I am lonely as fuck.

Am I depressed? Nah, but the herbs and potions help me out with that. They are all just rainbows and unicorns to me.

Do I listen to Whitney Houston’s All By Myself and cry myself to sleep? Yes, however I have cut it back to Sunday’s since the neighbours that I was harboring puppies under my stairs.

Now that I am single, it feels like everyone has someone. Before when I was in a relationship it seemed like everyone was single and living in the golden days. Clearly, nothing gold can stay, thank you Ponyboy.

I have friends and I also have ‘friends’, But in all honesty it just doesn’t feel like it is enough. Sure, I go out from time to time and force myself to socialize. But really, all I am thinking about is going home, lying in bed and feeling sorry for myself. I even find myself pushing my friends away which makes me feel even more shittier and lonelier. Cait, The Littlest Hobo.

Although being out and among the Plebeians is probably what is best for me. Sometimes I would rather just not exist. I would rather go home, sit my ass on the couch and play vids. Which reminds me, Goodbye XboX.

Lara-Croft-SadSo I chose to be single. I didn’t choose to be lonely. But here is the thing. When I was in a relationship, I wasn’t alone, but I indeed was lonely. I felt like I lost a core group of friends in the early years of the relationship. My new friends, were his friends, which then became our ‘friends’, which now is back to the way it started, his friends. Don’t get me wrong, he didn’t steal them or call dibs, sometimes that is just the way it goes. I also do have my own friends, although few and far between. But that is the way I like it.

Siri by the way, is the worst friend ever. All she does is lead me down dark alleys and on roads that don’t exist. She makes fun of my still ever present Ontarian accent and has since stopped talking to me. Siri=worst friend ever.

I noticed I play Solitaire a lot. That is a true story.pokemon dark pikachu sad lonely realistic drawn stylized 1280x800 wallpaper_www.wall321.com_83

I’m tired of hugging myself.

I wish my pillow would cuddle me back.

I’ve created multiple personalities just to keep me company. Though half the time they make fun of me.

I’ve started turning to resources to help me. I  was looking up on the good ol’ internet How to Cure Loneliness. It was suggested that I go on a date….hold on wait for it….with myself. Like seriously, just no. If anything I will feel more sad, more lonely and the restaurant will run out of liquor. Straight up.

It also suggested to seek out other lonely people. Um, I don’t know about you but that really just sounds like the saddest party ever. I would probably have better luck at AA.

The internet also suggested I should stop using my cat as my shrink. All I’m wondering is how did it know that.

I will say that through all of this. I do find that I am doing more with myself and learning more about myself. For instance, I’m usually in bed around 10 or so (that is of course when I am not working). I wake up before my alarm around 7. Barrie (my pup) and I cuddle in bed. We now fit it more walks with each other. My house, is my house. And just the way I like it.

I know that this is a process. And right now I may be feeling down in the dumps, but I know or at least can hope that it will get better. It will get easier. So that being said, I’m okay with letting the lonely in.

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The Cherub Nazi: True Story

Bright and early, up before the alarm, puppies fast asleep. Looking at these little beasties I quite simply couldn’t be happier. Put on the kettle, take my daily cocktail of meds, have my morning shit in the water closet. Puppies still asleep, so I grab my tea, snuggle back into bed, put on my non-prescription reading glasses (side note: at times like this I wish I had a monocle). 

My novella of choice: Fifty Shades of Grey.

NOW HOLD UP! Before you all get up in my grill let me explain.

This book is shit, pure and sparkly shit. Monkeys could write better than this. It’s borderline Hooked on Phonix for first graders. This book is such as travesty that I will most likely use the pages to wipe my ass when I am done lowering my IQ. I’ll save money on TP and then I can actually afford a real book. (Another side note: For those of you who are aware of my strong dislike for Fable 3, as shitty as this book is I would rather read this book over and over again, than to hear anyone utter the words ‘Fable 3’. I would rather suck someones severe hammertoe than play Fable 3)

So the book is shit, but oddly enjoyable. And yes I am quite aware that the further I read I am just a stop closer to the short bus.

Anyways, a few shades in and the doorbell rings. Ahah, suspense I love suspense. Now, why the fuck would my doorbell be ringing so god damn early in the morning? Hell, I didn’t even know I had a doorbell. But back to the why? IN GODS NAME WHY?  First off, I have no friends, second the bills are paid I swear, and thirdly if its the lady I smacked with her own flipflop…I am truly, truly sorry and would kindly ask for you to return under the bridge from which you came.

So Ativan kicking in, along with Xanax, Paxil and a few other TicTacs I cannot pronounce….Why am I melting…what is happening…Cait, do no pass go…

I put down Fifty Shades of Shit, get out of bed, think about putting on pants and brushing my hair, but don’t. Sometimes thinking is enough. Pfff, fuck it. You come here, to the place where I dwell, you ring my door bell, which I didn’t even know that I had, I will not furbish myself for you.

I creep down the stairs, bell rings again… Grab one of my shoes, just in case, take a deep breath and swing the door wide open. I mean I full on Bruce Lee’d this door down.

Is it an Angel? Oh gawd, Heavens Gate has found me. These drugs are really playing games with me. It is a boy, young, pre-adolescent, blonde hair, blue eyes, I really can’t decide if he’s a Nazi or a cherub…then I clue in…. Jehovah’s Witness….fuck me….I should have kept going to the church and if they allowed me to bring in my own bottle of wine this little Cherub Nazi would not be at my door, ring-a-ling-linging.

So since I don’t want JW going back home and whipping himself because I’m in my skivvies, I close the door so he can only see my one eyeball. I so wish I had a monocle, I would look so much more sophisticated in instances like this.

Cherub Nazi Boy: Ma’am.

Me: Oh gawd, don’t call me Ma’am. Ma’am is what you call the little old lady down the street who still has milk delivered.

Cherub Nazi Boy: Mrs…

Me: Nope, Not a hope in hell little boy. Yes, I swore on the Little Cherub Mother Fucker.

Cherub Nazi Boy: May I have you name?

Me: Sorry kid, the last thing I need is Chris Hansen interrogating me because I little munchkin is on my doorstep.

Cherub Nazi Boy: Miss?

Me: This little shit is persistentSure, Miss.

Cherub Nazi Boy: Can I tell you about your Father?

Me: So hold up, who the hell does this kid think he is? This kid wants to tell me who my father is. His peter guaranteed is no bigger than my thumb, fuck my balls are probably bigger and he has the nerve to want tell me who my father is. Sorry kid, me and my father go way back

Cherub Nazi Boy: Miss, God is your father.

Me: That is news to me. Seriously, kid I think you got the wrong daddy. My dad is tall, dark and native. Legit FBI (Fucking Big Indian) to the extreme.

Cherub Nazi Boy: Uh ma’am.

Me: Not this again. Listen kid, I ‘respect’ what you are doing. You got heart , clearly no soul and little do you know ‘Your Father’ is pimping you out, you little prost-i-tot, you. Go back to your flock of Little Nazi Cherubs, I am not flocking your way.

Cherub Nazi Boy: Uh, Miss…

Me: Fuck, I didn’t mean to swear or hurt your feelings. I’m just not interested. Your Papa I simply don’t preach.

Cherub Nazi Boy: Miss…may I have your number?

NOPE! NOPE! A BIG HELL NO! First this little shit goes from wanting to tell me who my daddy is, to asking for me number. This kid has serious mommy issues.

I close the door. I need another TicTac cocktail to process what just happened.

This folks, is a first for me. Kids scare me. The things that gets ingrained into their little brains scares me and apparently the meds I am on are starting to scare me too. I should probably call Dad.

Anyways long story short……..THE END.

#Single

First off, I CHOSE TO BE SINGLE! After a seven year relationship that probably lasted two years longer than it should have, I finally stopped the procrastination and made a choice. TO. BE. SINGLE. Although a rather scary thought after being in a relationship for eons I took the plunge! It was and still is the best choice for me. At least for now.

OKAY, now that that is out of the way.While being a single lady, I’ve realized quite a few things about myself.

Such as:

  • I’ve resorted to climbing on counters to get to the top shelves. I haven’t done this in quite some time. Basically, I need a kitchen built for gnomes.
  • Zippers on the back of dresses will be the death of me. Seriously, I literally have to stretch and work up to doing up my zippers. This usually ends up with me asking thy neighbour to help a sista out. They have since blocked my phone calls and have posted neighbourhood watch signs all over the street.
  • I sleep easier. Granted I have two massive dogs that are the biggest cuddle bugs you could ever have. Makes the slumber more cozy.
  • I’m not as lonely as I thought I would be.  Sure I have moments where loneliness kicks in. Especially in the beginning, I thought I was the loneliest ‘sac de shit’. But it does get easier, every day gets better. Slowly, but surely.
  • I don’t feel as guilty masturbating. But i will say my hand may now have carpal tunnel (not so sure how I feel about that). This also reminds me that my booty call list is no longer applicable to me. Half are married, crazy and don’t have pagers anymore.
  • I’ve gained more of my independence back. Its super empowering and makes me feel like a real person.
  • No one is there to judge me for all the shitty shows I watch. And I watch some pretty questionable shows. My cat however, judges me, but that is just in everything I do.
  •  I drink more water. I don’t know if that has to do with me being single or the UTI I had a month ago.
  • The most action I’ve had in the last few months is someone calling me while my phone is in my pocket on vibrate. I never pick up. 079b84c331d6dbc7bf2e053a4fbc87a3
  • I don’t feel guilty for hanging out with my friends and coworkers.
  • I can cook whatever I want and not be bitched out for the crap I eat, Hey! I love my KD Tuesdays okay.
  • No arguments over video game time. Video game time is my time, all the time.
  • I don’t have to smell anybody else’s farts.
  • The only ego I need to stroke is now my own. I am so proud of you, Cait!
  • The only arguments I have are with me, myself and I. Usually, we are all on the same side.
  • Perhaps, the most beneficial aspect of being single for me is working on myself. WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT!!

I’m sure when I’m a 40 year old spinster my views may change a little, but thus far being single is A O K with me.