The Golden Lasso

Mood’s a thing for cattle and loveplay, not fighting!

22 Mar 2012 Leave a Comment

by Anna Jones in Uncategorized

That quote up there? Is from Dune, the movie. And I love it. I even have it on a post-it next to my mirror, so that I’m always reminded.

This month it’s especially important. I’m finishing two papers that go towards my graduation this term. I complain a lot about how much work it is, but to be honest, it’s good work and a part of me is happy I’m doing it and that I’ll be finished soon. The only real downside to it is the trouble it gives me sleeping. When I go to bed, I keep going over and over my research and the way I want to plan this section and phrase that paragraph. I have a harder time than usual trying to shut out all these swirling thoughts. But it’s okay. Come April 3rd, it’ll all be handed in.

Things are weird right now. I have a lot of worries, but I’m also allowing room for good moments and that helps. I’ve started playing pool again! I’m really bad but it is soooo much fun just playing. And I’m blessed with a fantastic best friend who takes care of me so well and helps me get through this strained period of my life. It’s not so easy for me to accept so much outside help, but you know what? That help, it helps. She takes me out to dinner when she knows I wouldn’t go because I can’t pay for it, we kick each other’s asses to stick to our workout routine, she lends me DVDs I couldn’t otherwise watch and most of all, she’s just there. I often try and express my gratitude by baking, cooking or just listening when she’s had a tough time, but the truth is, she’ll never know just how much I really love her, how much she’s saving me and I will never, ever be able to repay that debt of love. The word “best” in “best friend” takes on a whole new meaning when it comes to Jey. Over the last year or so, she’s been gifting me a lot of fluffy things with sheep on them (or, you know, just plain plushie sheep) and for a while, I didn’t get where it was coming from. And then it hit me: she’s not much one for cuddling or sweet-talking (unlike me) and I think this is her way of hugging me. How absolutely sweet is that? My bed has truly become a barnyard because of her. I’ve got 3 sheep (Gussie, Minnie and Ermengard), a dog (Ambrose), plus the donkey (Arthur) and the two piglets (from Winnie the Pooh, but only one’s called Piglet, the other is Finn) I already had. I know it sounds a bit whackadoodle (okay, A LOT whackadoodleDOO) for a 26-year old to have so many plushies still in her bed (and hey, 3 of them are technically pillows) but I kinda like it. I just make sure they’re tucked away when I have company

In other news, I had two iron transfusions and am feeling so much better now. You’ll never know how much you’ll miss that oxygen in your blood until it’s gone. I hope they last me for a while!

At the beginning of the month, I had a plan to go on a week-long vegan “fast” after my transfusions. Today could’ve been the day where I shopped for that vegan week. But you know what? Veganism sucks. I’ve been planning this fast in my head and been looking at super healthy recipes and doing some research and the conclusion is: veganism takes the fun out of everything. You can’t even put cream cheese in mashed cauliflower or have yoghurt! I’m not sure how yet, but I’ll be amending my fast guidelines and hopefully come up with something healthy, yet not so dreary. I really wanna do some kind of fast, but I don’t have the willpower to torture myself with it. There’s enough torture in many other areas of my life right now and I’m just not masochistic enough, it seems. If you have tried a fast that you liked, let me know!!

Anyway, going to bed now. It’s another big day ahead.

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna

Something’s gotta give.

18 Feb 2012 2 Comments

by Anna Jones in Uncategorized

It took me so long to get back to dating. And now it’s just one little disaster after the other.

More and more – if you don’t count the flashes I get when I just want to… carnally know someone – I understand what I want. A sweet kiss. A gentle touch. Talk until morning, go to work high on endorphines.

For so long I would’ve taken beeing seen as a sex object over being alone in a second. Now? I’m not so sure anymore. I’ve gotten physical love back in my life but almost as soon as it began, it started to feel empty. I can’t believe I feel this way. I hate myself a little for feeling this way. I have “is it never enough?” guilt.

At first seeing what was out there was fun. It was exciting. Now? I can’t even properly put it into words. All I know is what I’m missing, what I’m craving, what I really need. Not being at someone’s beck and call for sex. Not being the umpteenth woman in a string of girlfriends. Not being an affair. Not being a surrogate mother.

Is there really nobody out there who will have me as I am? Beauty, flaws, quirks, charms, bad habits and all? How many more hoops do I have to jump through? How many more frogs do I have to kiss? What’s my damage that either they can’t get past my appearance or they only want me for it? What’s my fucking damage?!

I’m thinking about stopping with the dating again. I don’t want to do it, not really, but a part of me feels the calm of nothingness might be more beneficial than the storm currently raging. There’s got to be a middle ground, why can’t I find it?

I feel like a sap. For writing this and complaining. For feeling the way I do. For having let others make me feel like this. I always thought something would be better than nothing. But something can be exhausting too.

I don’t know how much strength there is left in me. I’m scared of my own dreams. They used to be mostly fun and adventurous. Lately it’s been all doom and gloom. Last night I dreamt someone had sedated me with three shots and was planning to cut out my lungs and then kill my child. I was slipping into unconsciousness slowly enough for the fear and desperation to make me frantic inside but I couldn’t voice it because of the anaesthetic. I woke up almost crying. I also have the relationship dreams again. Someone cupping my cheek, kissing me tenderly. That feeling of being utterly in love, utterly for each other. I wake up crying.

I have such open, tolerant views on love and sex. I believe sexuality is fluid, that we should love who we want, how we want and as many as we feel like as long as everybody is honest. I believe that polyamory can work as well as monogamy. That homosexuality is just another shade of love. Have sex, make love, be on your merry way. Do what feels right, be safe, sane and consensual. All that jazz.

And with all that, I can’t compel myself to be a free-of-charge hooker, the nth girlfriend, the affair.

With all that, all I want is one love. I want my heart to have an anchor again. I’m a ghostship on a forgotten course and it is ripping me apart inside.

I can’t give up now, can I?

I’m almost certain I will look back on this post and realise what the toxic mix of twilight thoughts, romance TV series and low B12 levels can do to a person. But I’ll be pressing “publish” in a minute anyway. Because this is as much a step in my journey as the impossibly chipper moments, the butterflies before a date and the recollections and lessons from bad dates gone past. And my twilight thoughts and low B12 levels are a part of me. There may be some truth in them, even if it hurts so very much.

Hold those close who hold your heart. You don’t know how lucky you are.

Live long and prosper, peace,

Anna

Stay with me tonight, Hephaistion.

04 Feb 2012 1 Comment

by Anna Jones in Uncategorized

There’s definitely something in the air of 2012 that wasn’t there before. I’m discovering that there is a fair number of men in Switzerland who don’t mind a big woman. A lot of them are entirely unsuitable for me, but the mere fact they exist is proof that there is hope.

I’ve been on a lot of dates since the beginning of January. A lot of them complete duds. I’m figuratively kissing a lot of frogs at the moment. But I’m not ready to give up yet. I’ve said before I’m way past the point of “love will find you if you let it and don’t think about it”. This year, I’m going for it. Like a pitbull. And if God gets in my way, God will get cut. If nothing happens, at least I’ll know I gave it my all.

I realise that I’m learning much about myself at the moment. I thought I was pretty clear on what I wanted and didn’t want when I first ventured into this, but with every date, I revise that. The bad ones make for especially good lessons.

The main lesson I’ve learned so far is this: I don’t want somebody who is attempting to save me from myself  – for all the wrong reasons. A few times now, I’ve encountered men who started overanalysing and going “We can’t be together!” *dramatic pause* “You have your studies/job/emotions/whackadoodle to take care of! You are so fragile, you don’t even know what you’re getting into!” And then, after another pause, they say: “So we should just keep it casual.”

Excuse me, mister, but what part of “I’m ready for my next relationship” do you not understand? How can I spell this out any better? I’m meeting you because, as my ad specified, I am looking for something that might be relationship-material. If I wanted casual sex, I could get it. I’m aware that chemistry can’t be forced (oh am I EVER!) but generally: I’m looking for a relationship. Don’t give me bullshit excuses and act like you are trying to protect me, when in fact you just want something casual.

And frankly, those who don’t angle it this way freak me out even more. Those who genuinely try to save me from myself and pretend like they know me better than I know myself after an hour of meeting me, they deserve to be drop-kicked to the curb asap. I don’t need saving from myself in the love-department. I’m clear on the fact that I want to give so much – eternally, I circle back to the quote from Magnolia: “I’ve got so much love to give and nowhere to put it” – and that I just wanna be loved. Just a little. Just feel a little of that special happiness that comes from a great date, a stolen kiss or walking hand in hand.

Many people in my life tend to think a relationship or love (or whatever you want to call it) will distract me from my studies and from work and from getting healthier. I don’t understand why this is such an unacceptable riddle to them when I tell them that actually, the complete opposite happens. When I’m feeling good emotionally, I’m better at all that I endeavour. I’m more focused on work and getting healthier is so much easier. I can’t explain why this is the case with me. But if there’s one thing I know, it’s that this is true. I thrive when I love.

 

I thrive when I love.

 

I’m not a pitiful heap whimpering in a corner when I don’t have the privilege of that, but I am a better person when I move in an atmosphere of love. So, please, stop trying to save me from myself. Accept that when I’m on a date with you, it’s because I want to and because I am able to carve out time for dating and relating. Accept that I’m a grown woman who knows what she’s doing. I don’t want a timetable for love. Bugger off with that “We should only see each other twice a month/2-3 times a week” (yes, I have been told this by various Swiss men). If you want to see me, see me. Let your heart guide you.

 

Live long and prosper, peace,

 

Anna

I’m proud of you, son.

18 Jan 2012 2 Comments

by Anna Jones in Uncategorized

Once again it’s been a while since I posted. I just seem to go through phases like that. This has been an especially long one. But journaling has always been this way for me. Even my kiddie diaries span years in a single notebook because I only ever wrote when something was noteworthy.

 

I have something noteworthy to say today. I’ve been building up to this post for almost three weeks now. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to write it. I’m still kinda scared that publishing it will jinx what prompted it. But I’m not the only one who can do with a good hopeful story every now and then. I need to share the love. So here I am.

 

I’ve found love again. Not in the arms of somebody, but through the arms of somebody. I made it happen. And I’m damn proud of myself. Being in Switzerland has been a barren wasteland dating-wise. People look at me like I’m crazy when I say I haven’t been with anybody in five years. Most people can’t even fathom what that means.

It means that every day, you get a bit lonelier. Every day, you ask yourself two questions: Is it me? Or is it them? Over time, you tend to think that it’s you. You who are unloveable, impossible, ugly, desperate, reeking of need. My friends kept telling me it wasn’t me. That it really was Switzerland, Zurich specifically. I wanted to believe them so badly. Deep down, I don’t think I ever did.

Before I met my first real boyfriend, I’d been in a similar situation. I had fully convinced myself that I was 100% unloveable. Forever. And ever. Then he came along. And loved me. To this day, I remember the intensity of what I felt when it hit me: “No, you are loveable!” If I think back to it, I feel it as if it were the first time. I couldn’t believe how deluded and wrong I’d been. When we broke up – it wasn’t a bad breakup – I told myself to hold on to that revelation. Hold on to the knowledge that just because this was over, didn’t mean I’d have to resume my lonesome existence. I was unluckily in love for a while and six months later I had my next boyfriend. Steve. Steve who changed everything. Steve, who reconfigured my internal makeup in a myriad of ways. That breakup was bad. And suddenly I was alone, in Switzerland.

For a year and a half, I didn’t mind being alone. That’s how long it took me to get over him. During that time, getting together with someone wasn’t even an option I wanted. When that mourning period ended, I realised it wasn’t an option I had.

Year after year, on the 1st of August, the day Steve broke up with me, I felt the loneliness grow. The lack of love etching itself deeper into my soul. I tried to date. I tried people at uni, at work, over the internet. Nothing worked. The people I met in real life weren’t flirting with me, they were just being nice – a very Swiss, very confusing characteristic of the indigenous population. The people I met over the net were freaks. And not the good kind. I stopped trying.

The delusion that I would never find love again crept back into me. There’s no fighting that feeling. If you ignore it, it grows stronger. If you try to think it over rationally, it grows stronger. If you accept it – and eventually you do – it starts dancing on the grave of your capacity for love. And no matter what you do, it hurts unspeakably.

 

I’m not sure why, but I decided to fight it with one last battle. I only know that the love my friends have shown me in these trying times – in a nutshell: I’m broke, stressed out & ill – somehow factored into that decision. I can’t explain it any better, I’m just sure of it.

I ran a personal ad through Craigslist Zurich. I advertised myself up front as a bbw: a big beautiful woman. It’s an internet-created term I’ve never really liked, but it’s to-the-point and it is, in the end, what I am. I explained that I was looking for love. The ad ended with “skinny fetishists need not apply”. I expected maybe two or three answers. I got around 20. And that’s not counting the idiots who sent me cock pictures (this is the internet after all).

 

I started going on dates when I got back to Zurich after Christmas. I haven’t even met all of the guys that I’m planning to meet and already there are a few very good apples among them. Two stand out in particular so far, though for very different reasons.

 

The first is Blu*. He seduced me. Completely. This may be the first time in my life that I haven’t done the seducing. Haven’t had to work so hard at it. I love this about Blu. He saw me and the instant he cheek-kissed me hello, I felt that he was enraptured with me. He’s serious looking, very straight posture, great composure. But I could feel that everything in him wanted me. Twenty minutes after our first date ended, he’d sent me a text message to follow-up. Later that evening he confessed that he had, indeed, been captured by my heaving bosom, that it cost him a lot to concentrate on our conversation. On our third date, I went to his workplace and we defiled the entire backroom.

As I laid there on a massive wood table, soft as butter to the touch, looking up at him, I could’ve cried. I felt beautiful. And he’d done that. If you feel ugly by yourself and uncomfortable in your skin, no amount of affirmations that you are a beauteous being worthy of all the love in the world will help. In my experience, affirmations are a lie and a pile of bullshit. You know how you get to feel beautiful? When someone looks at you like they are watching an amazingly brilliant sunset painted by whatever gods may be. When they look at you like they are discovering a rare flower. When they look at you like that, you feel beautiful.

In my case, it definitely took someone else for me to recover that feeling. Feeling beautiful. I can’t say it enough, even if stylistically it’s making this blog post go down the drain. But you know what? While it might have been someone else’s merit that I got to feel beautiful, it’s my merit that I’ve gotten this feeling to stick around. Only yesterday I looked in the mirror and all I could think was: “You are a beautiful woman. You’re going to be ok.” And also: “You had sex again! WOOHOO!”

Feeling beautiful made me beautiful. In more than one way. I went to work, chipper and happy. I got more flirts out of it! I eat better and work better at my uni stuff.

This is not a story about Prince Charming. It’s not a romantic rescue story. Blu and I aren’t together for now. Maybe we never will be. I’m not even sure I want or need us to be! But it’s a fact of life – and no self-help guru ever admits to it – that another person can be the catalyst and the support for your happiness. We can’t do it all by ourselves. We need other people. Friends are one part of that equation, but only lovers can complete it. The one thing there is to master is this: take that feeling of beauty and run with it. That, no one can do for you. Only you can keep the spark alive. Right now, my spark is strong. I fear that sooner or later I’ll lose it again. But right now, I’m savouring it.

So much so, in fact, that I’ve done something else I’m proud of. It involves the second man I mentioned earlier, Dorado*. I didn’t date him. We just got straight to business. And it was fantastic. Why am I proud of that? Because I’m taking what I want. Dorado isn’t a guy I would ever consider dating. Or, “worse”, be in a relationship with. He’s sweet, successful, well-mannered and I have no interest in him other than as a sex object. And you know what? That’s okay. For the first time ever, I’m having “sex like a man”. I decide how, when, where and with whom. No emotional strings. He’s great in bed and we’re incredibly compatible but I feel not the slightest need to take it anywhere beyond that. I adore handling things this way. Feeling things this way. Funnily enough, the man I dated whom I saw and wanted to lick all over, he is the one who I’m dating traditionally. Even kissing hasn’t been on the horizon with him yet.

 

I’m in charge. I’m beautiful. This is my show.

 

Was this what I set out for when I placed the ad? No. I had no plan except that I wanted to meet people who might find me attractive enough to date me and see where things go. I’m doing that now. I still want a relationship. Badly. I’m not too coy to admit it. But this? This is a good start. It’s a surprising start, to say the least. Maybe one of these men will be relationship-material. Maybe none of them will be. But I got a slew of new experiences out of this and I feel beautiful, inside and out.

 

I got to arch my back and stretch my legs lasciviously on a wooden table in a furniture store. I got to pout my lips and open my eyes big and see a man’s soul beg for mercy just because of that. I got a straight and sober Swiss to defile his workplace! I must be on to something. Hopefully, when I find it, I’ll know it and know how to cherish it.

 

Because that’s really all I want. An arched back, half-open lips and a love to cherish in my heart. What journey will take me there, remains to be seen.

 

Live long and prosper, peace,

 

Anna

 

* names changed for the sake of their anonimity

I’m buying this house for my baby’s wedding present. Forty thousand dollars, cash! Now, that’s… not buying happiness. That’s just… buying off unhappiness.

08 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment

by Anna Jones in Uncategorized

I’m unhappy. Try as I might, I can’t seem to catch a break. I’m not depressed, not that. Just unhappy.

 

Last week was hell on wheels. This week is better, objectively, but I’m not really feeling it. I should be happy that I got one of my term papers in and all my paperwork for my graduation in order and handed in. Instead, I can’t help but worry about those letters I still haven’t posted, these phone calls I need to return and the emails that need replying. And no matter how hard I try, the workload never seems to diminish. In fact, it’s reproducing like tribbles. Work at the call centre continues to bore me to tears. I think I’m not even doing that bad, as far as I can tell all my stats are ok. But the money I make there is negligible. I used to do well for myself in my ghostwriting days, but they are long gone. I wasn’t making a fortune, definitely not enough to put something aside (not with all the medical bills), but I wasn’t struggling either. I’m not even unhappy really about having to turn over every penny. I’m unhappy that this is another worry on top of a mountain of worries.

 

You may say life is not always about being happy. And you’d be right. But it can’t be about being this unhappy either.

 

I look to my friends for comfort and they offer much, but they can’t make me love myself.

 

So often, I think “Just take control. Start loving yourself. As evidenced by your friends’ repeated comments, you are not the ugliest person to have ever walked the planet. Take control. Stop whining, adjust to your appearance and be proud of what you have now, just work with what you have and when that has changed, work with whatever has come out of that. Just take control.” But I feel as big as a pebble, facing down the Himalayas.

 

It sounds desperate, and maybe it is, but the simple fact is this: I need love. Not more love than my family or friends give me, just a different type of love. Regularly now, I dream of being in relationships. I am wearing blue dresses and the person I’m with is kind and caring and when we kiss, the world around us vanishes for a split second. When I wake up, all I’m left with is an overwhelming feeling of sadness mixed with longing. I hate feeling that. I hate having to feel that instead of getting what everybody else seems to have: love. Kisses, cuddles, love. I am literally starved for cuddles. Of course, all this doesn’t help. Nobody wants someone who needs love so badly that some days, it’s like they can’t even think straight. Desperation is not sexy. But after five years of celibacy, how do you not become desperate? How do you keep living for yourself and being all happy and relaxed just enjoying your own company?

 

I have no problem with my own company. Similarly, I don’t equate love with being-together-24/7 and welcome independence in a partner. I’m happy to buy my bras alone, go to the movies by myself and spend an hour just playing with some makeup. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t appreciate someone to go grocery shopping with me, or to cook with or to read to, at night, before we go to sleep.

 

Every day, I see things I want to share. Not with friends, not with Twitter, not on this blog. With a partner. That flower floating in the lake. Those bats against the sunset. That special shade of twilight blue. The milkrice that turned out so horrible it was funny. My glistening shower that I spent an hour scrubbing with a toothbrush. My term paper in all its glory before I hand it in.

 

Is there really no one out there, not one person? What do I have to do? And please don’t tell me I need to stop stressing and it’ll happen in its own time. That just stresses me out more because I’m trying to figure out what and when that “own time” is. It’s too late for those cliché bits of advice to have any effect. I’m not even in that category anymore.

 

I just want to be a little less unhappy. I want a sweet, polite Irishman with a grizzled reddish beard to laugh at my silly jokes and sit next to me simply because he wanted to. I want the hands of that strapping Swiss cupping my cheeks and kissing me. I want to fall off the bed laughing with my best friend whom I’m also in love with. I want to discover what he loves and make it my own.

 

To all of you out there reading this who have someone like that: don’t take it for granted.

 

Looking into her eyes, melting inside at the sound of his voice, staring at her perfect lips while she speaks, secretly smelling his cushion after he left for work, cleaning up the mess she made in the kitchen, organising his desk, watering her plants and feeding his goldfish while he’s on a business trip. These are things some people would kill for. Treasure them as you treasure your own life.

 

I probably wouldn’t even think about my workload and my financial woes if I had someone’s goldfish to take care of. Seriously.

 

Instead, I’m reduced to this. A pathetic, whining blogger, forlorn and alone in the universe. I’m aware I’m not a pretty picture right now. But at least I’m an honest one. Right now, that seems the best and most I can do. For better or worse.

 

Live long and prosper, peace,

 

Anna

Yes, my questionnaire had twenty pages. Two of them were devoted to sex mores.

27 Oct 2011 Leave a Comment

by Anna Jones in Uncategorized

I came across this questionnaire on the Vanity Fair homepage and liked the questions, so I decided to do it too! I’ve been working so hard this week and today was no exception, so I’m kinda doing this as a bit of entertainment and relief. And just for an added bit of fun, I kept the format, which requires the person answering to fill out the questionnaire in handwriting! Woop! Do it too, handwritten or not, if you feel like it!

 

1) What is your favourite sexual position?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2) How did your worst breakup unfold?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3) What is the strangest thing you’ve ever put in your mouth?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4) Where did you lose your virginity?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5) What’s your idea of taking a walk on the wild side?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

6) Who is the one person you would NOT hold open the door for?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7) Please use this space to draw your current state of mind:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8) Hey dude – how’s it hanging?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9) What would you do if there were no tomorrow?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Live long and prosper, peace,

 

Anna