fuck. i wrote a love poem.

This is “Catch” … for the one who isn’t exactly my type, but he’s beneath my skin anyway.


You break the rules with that sly grin

that glimmer of wildness lingering in your eyelashes

dusting the space between us with anxious curiosity,

It only took you a couple of weeks.


You came breezing in, brushing past my wherewithal

and quietly making your home in my thoughts.

Right time, right place, right lyrics

so I know it’s not some blind coincidence.


I fear my heart is in trouble

It’s been effortlessly slit open with

ska and beer and sincere words

what an odd romance pools beneath us,


but neither of us can deny that our shoes are red

so here we are again,

in the screen-light at midnight

coaxing another cozy truth from its slumber


and I wonder what comes next

when the rubber hits the road

and our story unfolds, unravels,

unwinding between increasingly careless fingers,


the same fingers that shiver across my skin,

a tremble bred from the past’s torrid lovers,

and yet we still pretend it’s simple lust

instead, it’s trust and both of us are falling.


Let’s see where we catch.

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what a wild summer

Since I last checked in here…

  • intense love-affair that began and ended in 1 month
  • first and second one-to-one experience with a woman, who is now my lover
  • gains and losses in business
  • gains in friendships, networks, sports
  • contact & 2 platonic lunch dates with my Unicorn (the one that got away)
  • possibly falling for someone totally not “my type”


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updates in random musings

In the past few months, I’ve cycled through all kinds of emotions and mindsets about people and attraction. I held my tongue when I wanted to say “I’m falling for you” twice now. I’m glad I didn’t say anything because maybe that’s not what falling in love feels like. That’s what regular romantic emotions feel like, probably. I admit I was/am starved for a real emotional connection and this is a weird sea to navigate. But perhaps I just discovered a quality I have been denying…I fall for people quickly. But I also fall OUT of love quickly. So then…is it love at all or am I frantically grasping at emotional depth and smothering it with enough sex to convince myself it’s love? A dangerous game.

Curious. Next.

I’ve been introspective also about my own sexual orientation. I’ve been noticing these little habits (quickly averting eyes when looking at a woman) that don’t help things. How did I become this way? Maybe I thought prolonged eye contact with a woman would be disrespectful? I still haven’t gathered the nerve to dance with a woman at the gay bar. A new challenge to conquer – talking to women in a new sense!

My surroundings have been more queer than ever, though. The team I am part of is mostly gay and I’ve been spending far more time in the gay scene than ever before. I feel like less of an impostor, though I have already met some interesting foes, like “looking too straight”. I will look how I want to look, thank you.

On the topic of sex, things have been good in my world. I have abandoned almost all shame about my body, sex, social constructs around dating. Fuck it (sometimes, literally). I am living more and more by the “if it feels good, do it” mantra. So far, no major drama.

I’ve found this calm, comfortable, gentle place within when I let go of expectation or conditioning about when you “should” hook up and what you “should” feel or not feel. Going with the flow…. This feels so powerful. So incredibly powerful. And it’s not the kind of power I’m used to feeling when I’m “in control” in previous incarnations of my psyche. Before, I was so wound up and stern. Now, I’ve surrendered to seeing what happens, pushing boundaries, expressing tenderness freely and laying around naked in the daylight. I bought more sex toys. I still have some boundaries and enough subconscious criteria before bedding someone. My private life is still private. It’s delightful.

This sense of liberation is overwhelming. I am Venus.


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paddle, swish, smile


My plan for this summer is to do some more rec/sea kayaking. I love the way kayaking makes me feel about the world around me. It’s challenging physically, then it’s the mental and almost spiritual experience that makes me crave it. It awakens everything in me, just like dance does. 


Have you ever fell in love with a sound? The way a lone paddle in the water sounds…it’s delicious. In lake or sea kayaking, all you hear is the water, your breath, and the sound of the paddle.

So, I was asked by a friend if I was interested in trying out for a local dragon boating team and I’m going for the “fresh meat” night tomorrow evening. This might be the window into a whole summer of paddling and new friends. 

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the privilege of mutual desire

I can’t seem to find anything online about this, which makes me believe that I’m in a rare situation. I have more opportunities for lovers (in exactly the capacity I want them) than I’m sure what to do with. It’s fucking glorious.

Perhaps I’m that fabled bisexual, bohemian lover that men seem to want and never truly find? I want companionship and friendship and sex…without commitment or jealousy. Just enjoy each others’ company. Talk. Hang out. Plan trips. Have amazing sex. Freedom to go on dates and no questions. Complete openness about the state of the “relationship”.

I feel very lucky to be desired and lucky that I have (literally) a list of suitors to choose from, both male and female. I’m so frigging excited about this and I don’t know that any of my friends would understand or support me. I’ve tried talking about it with a couple of female friends and they are only jealous. That makes me uncomfortable.

Why do these otherwise great women have such a hard time finding what they want in a partner? Are my standards too loose? Am I more attractive than I think myself to be? Does the average person really have terrible self esteem or such a lack of self awareness that they can never be happy? That sounds like hell.

I don’t know where else to express my gratitude for this part of my life. Why is nobody else as happy with their love life?

Even if this is a delusion, I like it. I’ll keep it, thanks. I feel loved and satisfied and content with my beautiful harem.


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Fear of “the call”

I just caught myself thinking about my ex, but not in the way I’d expect to. Occasionally, I have pangs of loneliness or moments where I miss something about him. 20 minutes ago, I wasn’t thinking about that at all.  I was randomly overcome with worried thoughts of him drinking and driving. I caught myself at the question swirling in the back of my mind, “If he dies, would his family tell me? Should I ask a family member of his to promise to tell me if something happens to him?”

So matter-of-fact, that sinking feeling I know so well. I haven’t escaped that special horror yet, I guess. It’s a feeling I’ve known since I was a kid. Then, I was expecting “the call” that they found my vagabond, mentally ill, addict father in some remote BC location – and not alive this time. In my mid-twenties, I was expecting the same call about my mother. I expected her suicide nervously for many long months after I cut ties with her. I thought about how I would plan her funeral many times over the last few years. Both of my parents are still alive, but there will always be that expectation in the back of my mind that cops will come to my door to break the news.

Somehow, I married someone who made (makes, still) stupid enough choices that I dealt with that same fear/worry pattern more intensely and frequently enough that the worry itself became a pattern in my thinking. It just is. Like, there’s a time of day where I crave sweets, a time of day where I am creative and a time of day when I plan a suicide/drunk driving funeral in the back of my mind. It’s disturbing how normal that is for me. I know that can’t be a normal thought process.

So, while I start to date again, something more gets added to the deal-breaker list. “Must not have mental health or addiction issues. Must not think drinking and driving is normal. Must not be self-destructive.” Check. 

Not too much to ask, don’t you think?

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A reclamation of sexuality

ImageMy paradigm of sexuality is that it is a fluid concept, one that can change and bend and  morph with time. It slithers its way into my consciousness, behind the walls and cobwebs of past beliefs. 

It’s an odd thing to observe my own thoughts about gender and sexuality shifting. Unpacking and repacking. The evolution of my own sexuality is a fascinating thing to behold, even for someone cis-gendered and considering her new “label”. I can’t say in good conscience that I’m a straight girl with an “appreciation” for female beauty any longer. I’m a few too many honest self-reflections away from that. So, aside from my curiosities in theory, what will it be like in practice? What kind of hesitancies and remaining social conditioning will challenge me? Am I truly pansexual? I can’t wait to experience all of this. I hope my mind is as open in practice as I believe it to be in theory.

Regardless of that outcome, I have reclaimed that old inner fire again. FINALLY, she’s back. That confident, sly, seductive piece of myself that was sleeping for the last few years. I missed her. I thought I’d lost her when I started hating the chore of sex with my husband. I thought there was something wrong with me. Then I thought I must resign to the dull, sorrowful existence. It felt like my very soul was checking out…to “put up with it”. There was nothing wrong with me – I was just in a relationship with someone I didn’t love and was not attracted to in any way whatsoever. Now, that seems so ridiculous as I can freely follow my desires again. 

This sexual freedom is a sweet experience. I’m careful to keep the “should”s in check as I explore my options. Nobody gets to dictate this experience. It’s all mine. The lust, the power, the tenderness, the fierceness, the vulnerability and the sheepishly unshaven legs all the same. It’s all mine, bitches. I’m in the driver’s seat again and the passenger could be anyone. 

All I’ve gotta say is… FUCK YEAH. 

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