What Does a Girl have to do to be Loved? Nothing really.

I’m drunk and high off my ass right now. The only reason I’m capable of writing is because I ate and urinated several times. Anyway, that’s not what I’m talking about right now. What I’m talking about is how I started watching Sex and the City and how interesting it is that these women are trying to figure out love but they aren’t really articulating what they want from love. They want to be powerful and independent, and financially they are, but in the romance world they don’t seem to know how to do it. So they decide all men are the same; and respond by acting the way they think men are acting toward them; I guess to give men a taste of their own medicine.

I’ve only gotten through a few episodes. I’m so behind the times. But it’s a good show. It’s kind of inspiring though. I realized that I’m kind of doing the Carrie Brashaw thing with this blog. It’s all about sex and all those such things. But I feel like I have a bit of a leg up on Carrie Bradshaw because I know what I want from relationships and I’m not sad and afraid. But I can’t feel too smug because she is probably one of the driving forces behind the sexual revolution and freedom that I currently feel. Her (fictional) suffering led to my happiness. So, smuggness be damned!


But as I watch this show, and how they talk about men who only date models (because they’re in New York) I recognize that that is not something to be insecure about. Men don’t really care about how perfect my body is. Men don’t care about how perfect my face is. Men will love me and see me as valuable becaue I love myself and see myself as valuable, they become blind to my crooked nose or my crows feet. I have two men who deeply and purely love me and they are attractive and are willing to settle down and even have kids with me if I wanted (and I don’t want). But it is strange to have all of this when I remember a time (during the exact same time Carrie Brashaw was feeling the same thing) when I thought men were a code that needed to be cracked and I didn’t have the slightest idea of the code. So I was alone and longing for men or man in my life; one man to love and fuck. And I walked around in life, not knowing how to find that man, just like Carrie Bradshaw. But years later, here I am, drunk and high off my ass, old and soft and sloppy and not giving a fuck, and now…now is the time when I have men loving and fucking me and I know I could have even more men in my life if I wanted, but I don’t. 


I have a sweet and sexy husband who will do anything to keep me happy. I have a hot twenty-eight year old boyfriend who loves me deeply and genuinely. What did I do to deserve such affection? I don’t know. I love them back, but I am my own person and I can live without them if need be. I don’t feel a desperate attachment to either of them, which is nice. Desperate attachment is an ugly pathetic feeling. But love…love…dare I call it love? Love is happy about whatever is right now in front of me. When the love is there I adore it, I relish and enjoy and wallow. When the love or the person I love is not there, I move on and I create my own life and joy, the way I always do. 

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