Pity Party (Read at your own risk).

Another day… I’m feeling kind of depressed today. I know I said in the recent past that I was not going to try Craigslist again but I did. I made a very short post and attached my photo. I didn’t say anything about what I wanted, the kind of guy I am looking for. I just felt as if I was tossing a message in a bottle out there into the great, big ocean of the Internet. I’ve had quite a lot of replies. All of them looking for a blow up doll, not a real woman. Some of the replies have been nice about it, polite and even a little humour. They were few though. Most have made me feel like they’ve just stuck their penis in my face. Some even sent pictures of them sticking their penis in various things. Of course, I assume it was themselves. I don’t really want to ask.

I still wonder whatever happened to John Dunford. It seems so unfair that I had such good hope and happy feelings, even wondered if I had found that mythical soulmate after all this time. Then he just disappeared in July. He gave no clue that he was going to disappear. He ended his email telling me how much he was still looking forward to meeting me and that he would email me again. He was in the middle of things and his computer had died so he was emailing from other locations but he seemed very sincere. It had been a long time since I really believed anything a guy said to me, in that way. I have stopped sending him email and I have stopped thinking about him every day, only every few days now. I feel like such a loser, as if I’m an Internet newbie or one of those desperate women I used to feel sorry for during the IRC diva days. One of those women so much wanting to find someone to care about her that she eagerly believes and sucks up every lie the men there spew out. Totally forgetting her common sense and better judgement. I thought I was past being so stupid.

I did think about accepting some of the offers of sex from the responses to my ad on Criagslist. I do miss sex but I realize those guys aren’t really offering sex as I see it. They want a version of the blow up doll who isn’t made of scratchy, cold plastic. That’s really all they want. It seems every walking penis in Toronto if not the world only wants a blow up doll. Maybe they are just all that cheap, don’t want to make that trip to the adult store and fork out cash for the real thing. Maybe that is real to them: the care and maintenance of the penis. Maybe they don’t have a heart, mind or soul, just all of them walking dicks with nothing else to offer. It is depressing cause I really wanted to find someone to be with, to actually enjoy sex with (as I see it).

I’m not going to settle for the male version of the blow up doll though. I was already married to a guy who lost interest in sex and in me. I don’t want to lie there and feel like I could just as easily be dead and he wouldn’t notice. I don’t want him putting his fingers inside me and mechanically giving me a duty orgasm so he can turn over and go to sleep and ignore me crying there beside him. Maybe he never knew, I tried to cry quietly. Most of the time I just waited a few minutes and then got up, made cofee and turned on the computer.

It’s sad to think I won’t ever find someone to be with. I still think about kids too. I would have been a good Mother, not fantastic but good. I think I could have been nice and yet keep them disciplined too. We certainly would have had fun and I would have loved teaching them all sorts of things, showing them how big the world really is and how much there is to discover. But, I’m 42 now, getting too old to think about being a Mother. I never wanted to be that career woman type. I thought I would be home with kids, working from home, writing books or writing of some kind. I thought about having a family and all the nice things that kind of life has in it. But, I’m not getting that. It’s a shame I wasn’t career oriented after all. That seems to be all I will ever have in the end and I don’t even care much. In the end I think it won’t really have mattered that I was ever here.

Not that I haven’t done good deeds and helped people. I don’t overlook the good things I’ve done. I just think someone else could have done them. Maybe I was handy, at the time. It just doesn’t seem like enough to look back on my life and think I was helpful to others. I could have been a nun and at least had a pension at the end of it all.

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