So according to a silly little quiz I recently took, I’ve already met my soulmate. Not sure who that would be, but I guess I’ve met him somehow. Wonder where he went?

I’m not looking for very much, I don’t think. But I do have some criteria I now refuse to compromise.

  1. Must have a decent job, with a good future. You don’t need to be Bill Gates, but a job with some kind of a future would be nice! Haven’t dated anyone like that before.
  2. Must not be a virgin. I don’t want a man whore either, but come on! At this point in my life, I do not want to date a monk. At least know what you’re doing in the bedroom, or if not an expert, I’d really like someone I don’t have to teach and not someone who watches a lot of porn and wants to act it out.
  3. Must like all pets. I want to have a pet, and currently do have one. You must like them. Also, kids. I’d like kids eventually, so that would be good.
  4. Must be over age 35. I’ve always had a thing for men much older than me, but the oldest guy I ever dated was 30 while I was like 4 years younger. I’m thinking men over 35 (if they’re actually still single out there) would be more my speed.
  5. Athletic. I’ve said enough about my ex’s size. I don’t want someone who weighs over 100 pounds more than I do. It’s just not appealing to me now.

I’m waiting and wondering where this person who is my soulmate is. It would be really nice to get married, really quickly and spontaneously. And not waste years in a dead-end relationship, which has previously been my MO.

5 Signs of Verbal Abuse

Please take a moment to look at this diagram, with the 5 signs of verbal abuse. I was once in a verbally and emotionally abusive relationship, and would encourage anyone in the same situation to please speak to someone if you can! These signs are often how I felt during the two years of my life I now feel like I lost.

Remember, you deserve way better! Verbal abuse may not leave you with visible scars, but it is abuse nonetheless.



Verbal Abuse Survivor.

“So often survivors have had their experiences denied, trivialized, or distorted. Writing is an important avenue for healing because it gives you the opportunity to define your own reality. You can say: This did happen to me. It was that bad. It was the fault & responsibility of the adult. I was—and am—innocent.”

-“The Courage to Heal by Ellen Bass & Laura Davis”

Until recently, I never really shared this information with anyone, not even my family members.

I was in a verbally and emotionally abusive relationship for over two years.

My ex-boyfriend would constantly belittle me- my body was not good enough, my hair wasn’t good enough, I wasn’t smart enough, nothing about me was ever good enough.

Of course, this was coming from an overweight thirty year old who did not have a good job, had poor oral hygiene, had never had a girlfriend or even had sex before me, and will likely spend the remainder of his lifetime living with his mother because he lacks any kind of ambition. He was the black sheep of his family, by far the least successful of his cousins, and the only one who did not graduate from college. But anyway…

I still to this day ask myself how I became involved with a person like this, when there were so many red flags telling me to run for the hills. I mean, when we first started dating, non-exclusively, I was casually seeing someone else. However, that fling eventually concluded, and I became serious with my eventual abuser.

Why did I remain dating him for two years when I had started to realize that I didn’t love him after about a year? Yes, I said the words, but in retrospect, I never really felt right saying them to this person. When I said the words to him, I felt nothing. The words just felt hollow. That is my fault.

Those are words that I have never had an easy time saying, and the only other man I have ever said those words to was my college boyfriend.

At first, the ex who eventually became my abuser was not verbally abusive- though, I guess they never are. He was funny, charming, and seemed to really like me. He spent a lot of money on gifts for me, which I never asked for, but seemed to want the same things as me.

Just put this relationship under the “boy, was I wrong” category of my life.

But it wasn’t long before him “teasing” me saying I was ditzy became downright mean. Everyone says silly things at some point in time, but he called me stupid, and began to insult my body. As if Heidi Klum or Miranda Kerr were waiting to get in his pants!

He also constantly wanted to have rough sex, would sometimes hit me on my backside hard, use his girth to his advantage against me (he was about a foot taller and outweighed me by over 100 pounds) and was always spending money on lingerie and sex toy crap that I did not want. This was all control for him, and he often threw in my face how much money he was spending on me. I kept saying to him, “Please, don’t buy this stuff. I don’t want it and it’s a huge waste of money. We could save money for the future.”

But no, Mr. Moneybags just kept spending money on things like unwanted corsets and sex toys, which I said I didn’t want. But, he would criticize me if I spent $5 on a frozen yogurt or $10 on a skirt at H & M. “All you do is spend money on junk food and clothes that don’t fit you,” he would tell me.

It wasn’t long before I found out that he liked to gamble, and always lost a lot of money when he went to Las Vegas or Atlantic City. No wonder he had no money and zero credit, despite having no student loans since his mother paid for his failed college career in its entirety.

In 2012, we went on a vacation to South Carolina. During that vacation, I found myself wishing I was at work instead of with this person, who acted like I was a nuisance he didn’t want around. Yet, still, we didn’t break up. Looking back, I should have just grown some balls and dumped him. I think I didn’t because I truly did like his family, including his mother, and many of his friends. In fact, I am still friends on Facebook with his cousin and aunt, as well as a few of his friends.

After dating nearly two years, you start to question where a relationship is going. He lived in one place, I lived in another, so I began asking (like any normal adult would) if we should move in together somewhere close to where we both worked. Rather than speaking like a mature adult, he snapped at me calling me controlling, annoying, and a whole bunch of other things. Meanwhile, I was the most passive person ever when I was with him. And when both his mother and I suggested he re-enroll in college and actually get a job with a future he screamed at both of us, saying we were ganging up on him. Not like he was doing much else with his life that he would have no time for school.

I believe my ex-boyfriend had been raised to speak to a woman this way. I never met his father, who had died, but the things he told me did not make his father look like Ward Cleaver. Apparently, his father belittled his mother throughout their marriage, calling her fat, dumb, and lazy. Meanwhile, his mother was a registered nurse in the ER who made a ton of money and his father was a stock room manager at Walmart. No disrespect to managers at Walmart but come on! Who sounds smarter, his mother or father? It’s not like you need very many skills to work in a stock room, where your co-workers are a bunch of boxes. Not unlike his father, my ex had a dead end job as a night manager at a creepy hotel, and spoke to his mother horribly. Not unlike the way he spoke to me. He didn’t learn that on his own. His father must have been the same way.

Yet, still, I did not break up with this person. Why??? Believe me, I have asked myself the same question many times over the years.

The worst part of this is that I began to believe I truly was fat, stupid, unattractive, and everything else he called me. Never once did he tell me that I looked pretty, or that I had on a nice outfit on a given day. Instead, he would tell me that my clothes looked tight, my hair looked awful, and why couldn’t I lose weight? When we started dating I was 110 pounds. Eventually, I began to gain weight and looked bloated. It’s almost like I made myself become what he was saying I was. I really have no explanation for why I did that. All I do know is that I was miserable at that time of my life. To this day, knowing how miserable I was at that time, I cannot look at pictures of myself.

During the time we were dating, the guy that I had been seeing when I first started dating my eventual abuser contacted me again. For the first time in my life, I seriously considered cheating on a boyfriend. I was extremely unhappy with my boyfriend, and thought “well, maybe this would be a nice reprieve from the shell of a relationship I’m in. It would be nice to have sex with a guy who doesn’t outweigh me by over 100 pounds for a change.” Ultimately, I decided against cheating. I often wonder if I should have just gone ahead, cheated, and then broke off the existing relationship I had.

The final straw came when he insulted my family. Insulted my sister for receiving counseling when she needed help. Meanwhile, this guy clearly could have benefitted from therapy. This was exactly the wake-up call I needed. Insult me, call me names, and say things about me, but don’t even try going after someone that I care about. I was pretty much done by that point, I just hadn’t broken it off for good yet.

One day after work I was driving to his house after work, I had a moment of clarity on the George Washington Bridge:  “I do not want to be with Rob anymore.” That weekend, I don’t even remember what we did. But I do remember him yelling at me that I had no common sense because I let his dog run around the yard off-leash (which the dog did every day, by the way), and that I was just like his mother. However, comparing me to his mother, who is very successful at what she does and much smarter than her son, is really the best compliment he could have given me.

We got the dog back inside, and went to talk in his bedroom. I don’t remember anything that he said but I did say, “Let’s take a break from this.” As soon as I said these words, I knew it was over for good. His reaction? Surprisingly, the guy who called me so many names over the past two years cried that we were breaking up. He told me he loved me and wanted to be with me.

If he had truly ever loved me, he would never have spoken to me the way he did. I was just the first woman who ever gave him the time of day, and maybe he thought I would continue to put up with his behavior, his total lack of ambition, and lack of overall hygiene. I mean, his mother put up with how his father spoke to her, right?

But I wouldn’t. Not anymore. I was tired of it all by that point. Tired of trying to fight for a relationship I didn’t want to be in anymore. The last thing I remember doing is saying good-bye to his mother, shrugging off Rob’s tears about the relationship ending (it all just seemed insincere to me by that point), and driving away, not looking back.

I did not cry, not until much later anyway. And it had more to do with the actual act of finally breaking up than who I’d actually broken up with.

I never missed Rob once we were broken up. To be honest, I missed his dog (a very cute puggle) more than I ever did him. I miss having a boyfriend, I suppose, but I would much rather be alone than ever be unhappy like I was when I was with him.

Rob sent me a birthday card a few months after we broke up, so I sent him one. My family did sent a sympathy card when his grandfather died less than a year after we broke up (like I said, I did like his family). Cards were sent mostly to be polite, not out of any feelings for him personally. Other than that, though, we have had zero communication. We are not Facebook friends, I don’t know his email address (actually I’m not sure that I ever did), and I don’t have his phone number anymore.

It took me a very long time to finally speak to my parents, family, or friends, about how bad the verbal abuse actually was. My mother did say that she didn’t like the way he spoke to me, but I was an adult and she did not want to get involved.

A friend of mine recently told me that, had she known how bad the verbal abuse actually was, she would have intervened. But Rob put on a good front when we were around her. “I would have punched him,” she told me, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She did say to me, however, that her husband noticed something wasn’t right about Rob after we had gone bowling with them. “I don’t like how Rob treats her,” he told her, “She deserves way better than him.”

He was right.

Well, it’s been two years since we broke up. I have been on a few dates, joined a support group, and been more open about my past to friends and family. It is just very hard, because they have questions I really have no answers to.

While most people would say I’m doing all right, I carry around a lot of scars inside. I may not have been physically abused, but my trust issues are at an all-time high. I worry that the next person I become serious will treat me just as badly, call me names and lower my self-esteem, and that I won’t have the courage or sense to walk away this time.

I also kind of see my body as contaminated because he touched it. I sometimes think, I let a guy like that have sex with me? Who else could possibly want me after that? It sounds strange, but I’m really afraid for another guy to touch me.

I blame myself in many ways. I should have walked away from this person much sooner, I should not have stayed with him for over two years. I mean, when I finally did walk away, I had no problems doing so. So, why didn’t I just dump the loser? I don’t know if I will ever really have an answer to that question.

I do have one regret about the whole thing: not confronting him with his unacceptable behavior. I fear for the woman, if there ever is one, who ends up with him because he probably thinks he never said anything wrong. His behavior may also one day escalate to physical violence, which is truly frightening to me. I just hope that woman leaves him before any of that happens.

All I know is that, while I am very far from perfect, I did not deserve the treatment that I received from my ex boyfriend. That is not love. I may have emerged from this experience with some invisible scars, but one thing that I also have is more important to me: freedom.

“The scars from mental cruelty can be as deep and long-lasting as wounds from punches or slaps but are often not as obvious. In fact, even among women who have experienced violence from a partner, half or more report that the man’s emotional abuse is what is causing them the greatest harm.”

-Lundy Bancroft, “Why Does He Do That?: Inside the Minds of Angry and Controlling Men.” 





Sex questions

Okay, so I decided to answer these for fun. If you want to judge, be my guest. I’m so done caring what anyone thinks.


1. When is the last time you’ve had a dream about sex? A few days ago, I guess.

2. How old were you when you lost your virginity? 18. 

3. What color underwear is your favorite? Red or purple.

4. What’s the naughtiest thing you’ve ever done? I can’t think of one off the top of my head.

5. What’s your most hardcore fantasy? Don’t really have one.

6. Have you ever said someone else’s name during sex, instead of the guy you were with? Not that I recall.

7. What’s the most sensitive part of your body? Stomach

8. Have you ever dated two guys at the same time? Yes, and I ended up choosing one over the other. Probably should have gone with the one I didn’t choose in retrospect.

9. Have you ever been caught masturbating? No. 

10. Have you ever had sex outside? Yes.

11. Have you ever used a sex toy in bed? Yes.

12. When is the last time you’ve masturbated? A few days ago.

13. If you could only have one type of sex for the rest of your life, what would you choose: oral, anal or regular? Regular. I hate oral (bad memories of giving oral to my last boyfriend who was smelly and gross.) Anal, I could take or leave.

14. Hair down there or all bare? Bare.

15. What’s your favorite position? I like being on bottom.

16. What’s your favorite position when you’re on top?

17. Do you prefer wearing make up or none at all? None.

18. Do you sleep in pajamas, underwear or nothing at all? Pajamas.

19. If you could only ever sleep with one celebrity, who would you choose? Right now, probably Henry Cavill. 

20. Have you ever felt jealous when your boyfriend spoke to another girl? Not really. My last boyfriend had no chance with any girls before me. He’s lucky I gave him a second look.

21. How many partners have you had? 6. People who know me probably think it’s way more. 

22. Have you seen Fifty Shades of Grey? If so did it turn you on? Yes, and no.

23. Have you ever woke up beside someone you regretted sleeping with? The action itself, no. The person, yes. 

24. Worst sex you have ever had? In retrospect, probably the sex I had with my first boyfriend. At the time I did not know any better.

25. If you could choose between being slightly overweight or slightly underweight, what would you choose? Overweight

26. Have you ever woken the neighbors because you were so loud in the bedroom? Doubt it.

27. Have you ever had sex in public? Outside, yes. But in a public place, no.

28. Do you like it when I’m the dominant one in bed or do you prefer leading things?

29. Have you ever had anal sex? How did it go? Yes. It was okay, I guess.

30. When is the last time you went to a strip club? Never. Strip clubs are gross to me. 

It’s Not Where You start…

It’s not where you start, it’s where you finish It’s not how you go, it’s how you land A hundred to one shot, you call him a clutz Can out run the favorite, all he needs is the guts Your final return will not diminish And you can be the cream of the crop It’s not where you start, it’s where you finish And you’re gonna finish on top If you start at the top, you’re certain to drop You’ve got to watch your timing, better begin by climbing Up, up, up the ladder If you’re going to last, you can’t make it fast, man Nobody starts a winner, give me a slow beginner Easy does it my friend, conserve your fine endurance Easy does it my friend, for that’s your life insurance While you are young, take it rung after rung after rung after rung after rung after rung after rung after rung It’s not where you start, it’s where you finish, It’s not how you go, it’s how you land A hundred to one shot, you call him a clutz Can out run the favorite, all he needs is the guts Your final return will not diminish And you can be the cream of the crop It’s not where you start, it’s where you finish And you’re gonna finish on top!


So there is something that I have kept just to myself for a few months now, mostly because I thought it was crazy. But now I’m wondering: is anything in life really crazy or so far-fetched? Some things are not.

Just before my birthday, I had a sort of a vision: that my last birthday really would be just that- my last. I’m not sure why and I don’t know if that will really happen.

Or how it would if it actually does.

What bothers me most is if this vision somehow becomes true, I will have accomplished nothing and left no impact on the world before I left it.

Dejection: An Ode

Late, late yestreen I saw the new Moon,
With the old Moon in her arms;
And I fear, I fear, my Master dear!
We shall have a deadly storm.
(Ballad of Sir Patrick Spence)

Well! If the Bard was weather-wise, who made
       The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence,
       This night, so tranquil now, will not go hence
Unroused by winds, that ply a busier trade
Than those which mould yon cloud in lazy flakes,
Or the dull sobbing draft, that moans and rakes
Upon the strings of this Æolian lute,
                Which better far were mute.
         For lo! the New-moon winter-bright!
         And overspread with phantom light,
         (With swimming phantom light o’erspread
         But rimmed and circled by a silver thread)
I see the old Moon in her lap, foretelling
         The coming-on of rain and squally blast.
And oh! that even now the gust were swelling,
         And the slant night-shower driving loud and fast!
Those sounds which oft have raised me, whilst they awed,
                And sent my soul abroad,
Might now perhaps their wonted impulse give,
Might startle this dull pain, and make it move and live!
A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear,
         A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief,
         Which finds no natural outlet, no relief,
                In word, or sigh, or tear—
O Lady! in this wan and heartless mood,
To other thoughts by yonder throstle woo’d,
         All this long eve, so balmy and serene,
Have I been gazing on the western sky,
         And its peculiar tint of yellow green:
And still I gaze—and with how blank an eye!
And those thin clouds above, in flakes and bars,
That give away their motion to the stars;
Those stars, that glide behind them or between,
Now sparkling, now bedimmed, but always seen:
Yon crescent Moon, as fixed as if it grew
In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue;
I see them all so excellently fair,
I see, not feel, how beautiful they are!
                My genial spirits fail;
                And what can these avail
To lift the smothering weight from off my breast?
                It were a vain endeavour,
                Though I should gaze for ever
On that green light that lingers in the west:
I may not hope from outward forms to win
The passion and the life, whose fountains are within.
O Lady! we receive but what we give,
And in our life alone does Nature live:
Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud!
         And would we aught behold, of higher worth,
Than that inanimate cold world allowed
To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd,
         Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth
A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud
                Enveloping the Earth—
And from the soul itself must there be sent
         A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,
Of all sweet sounds the life and element!
O pure of heart! thou need’st not ask of me
What this strong music in the soul may be!
What, and wherein it doth exist,
This light, this glory, this fair luminous mist,
This beautiful and beauty-making power.
         Joy, virtuous Lady! Joy that ne’er was given,
Save to the pure, and in their purest hour,
Life, and Life’s effluence, cloud at once and shower,
Joy, Lady! is the spirit and the power,
Which wedding Nature to us gives in dower
         A new Earth and new Heaven,
Undreamt of by the sensual and the proud—
Joy is the sweet voice, Joy the luminous cloud—
                We in ourselves rejoice!
And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight,
         All melodies the echoes of that voice,
All colours a suffusion from that light.
There was a time when, though my path was rough,
         This joy within me dallied with distress,
And all misfortunes were but as the stuff
         Whence Fancy made me dreams of happiness:
For hope grew round me, like the twining vine,
And fruits, and foliage, not my own, seemed mine.
But now afflictions bow me down to earth:
Nor care I that they rob me of my mirth;
                But oh! each visitation
Suspends what nature gave me at my birth,
         My shaping spirit of Imagination.
For not to think of what I needs must feel,
         But to be still and patient, all I can;
And haply by abstruse research to steal
         From my own nature all the natural man—
         This was my sole resource, my only plan:
Till that which suits a part infects the whole,
And now is almost grown the habit of my soul.
Hence, viper thoughts, that coil around my mind,
                Reality’s dark dream!
I turn from you, and listen to the wind,
         Which long has raved unnoticed. What a scream
Of agony by torture lengthened out
That lute sent forth! Thou Wind, that rav’st without,
         Bare crag, or mountain-tairn, or blasted tree,
Or pine-grove whither woodman never clomb,
Or lonely house, long held the witches’ home,
         Methinks were fitter instruments for thee,
Mad Lutanist! who in this month of showers,
Of dark-brown gardens, and of peeping flowers,
Mak’st Devils’ yule, with worse than wintry song,
The blossoms, buds, and timorous leaves among.
         Thou Actor, perfect in all tragic sounds!
Thou mighty Poet, e’en to frenzy bold!
                What tell’st thou now about?
                ‘Tis of the rushing of an host in rout,
         With groans, of trampled men, with smarting wounds—
At once they groan with pain, and shudder with the cold!
But hush! there is a pause of deepest silence!
         And all that noise, as of a rushing crowd,
With groans, and tremulous shudderings—all is over—
         It tells another tale, with sounds less deep and loud!
                A tale of less affright,
                And tempered with delight,
As Otway’s self had framed the tender lay,—
                ‘Tis of a little child
                Upon a lonesome wild,
Nor far from home, but she hath lost her way:
And now moans low in bitter grief and fear,
And now screams loud, and hopes to make her mother hear.
‘Tis midnight, but small thoughts have I of sleep:
Full seldom may my friend such vigils keep!
Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing,
         And may this storm be but a mountain-birth,
May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling,
         Silent as though they watched the sleeping Earth!
                With light heart may she rise,
                Gay fancy, cheerful eyes,
         Joy lift her spirit, joy attune her voice;
To her may all things live, from pole to pole,
Their life the eddying of her living soul!
         O simple spirit, guided from above,
Dear Lady! friend devoutest of my choice,
Thus mayest thou ever, evermore rejoice.