So, it's a quarter after two in the morning and I'm still staring at this damned box. There's a world of confusion in my head. The logical side of me says that if I go to bed and get some sleep, I'll be better in the morning and won't be confused and hurt and frustrated and in general a pissy person.

So, what should I do now? Maybe I should try writing a song? Naw... too morose for that. It would come out a sappy, bitchy, angsty thing. Pathetic.

Hmmm, should I write through this? That might work. I might be able to get down on the screen what my conscious mind refuses to accept.

Is that kind of like a forced break through?

As I just told Futile, there are whole chunks of time gone... like stepping into an alternate dimension where everything is exactly the same... but somehow... somehow you know it's not the same.

Alright... one of the things that my old English Comp teacher said was that when you can't figure out what to write, you start with a free-write. You sit down with pen/pencil and paper (whatever medium) and just start writing.

Start describing the desk you're sitting at or something and keep writing. Force it through. Go for at least ten minutes straight. If your fingers take you beyond that, then go with it, just let your fingers do the work and when you're done... when your fingers stop, then look and see what you've written.

I think I'm going to try that.

WHat's upsetting me? My own belief that someone doesn't like me based solely on my physical appearance.

Yeah, that bugs me a lot. A whole lot. Fuck it... there are so many bullshit things going on in life... why the fuck do I have to deal with assholes and idiots who have no common sense? ANd yet, it wasn't really a lack of common sense, it was just... he doesn't like fat chicks.

Who am I to complain about his opinions? ANd, what's more, why should I care? I've spoken to this person twice. Only twice.

So, the fact that this stranger doesn't like me... is that really what bothers me here? No. It's the fact that I don't like me. It's that whole standing in front of the mirror thing.

I've been spending a lot of time looking over the posts to the Supersized BBW club. This is a place where supposedly people like fat people.

Why do I frequent that place? Because I desperately want to find a place where I feel accepted and where I'm not the fat chick. I want to find a group of people where I'm the "good looking" one. I want to be the popular kid.

I saw Never Been Kissed with Drew Barrymore the other day. I identified with that movie.

Throughout the first time she went to highschool, she was ridiculed and mocked and definitely not part of the in-crowd. And yet, she wanted more than anything to be popular.

That's largely part of the point of the movie Riding in Cars With Boys

Bev was so obsessed with acceptance... with being loved and adored and wanted, that she made choices which were really, really bad.

So, how does this tie in with the whole BBW club thing?

I was answering a post in regard to cheating... what is cheating... is it really cheating on your mate if you're in a loveless marriage... etc.

The person I was responding to spoke about how a friend of his was in a marriage where her mate had suffered an accident leaving him paralyzed and either unable or unwilling to perform. He stated that my comment about what cheating was (pretty much anything that causes one to want what isn't theirs), was pontificating and basically that I didn't know what I was talking about.

So, in my typical fashion (idiot that I can be) I decided to tell him exactly what experience I had. Thus... you get to read my post.

Hmmmm, well, yes, it's easy to sit back and pontificate. And, I haven't been with her when she was weeping because of a lack of any intimacy.

But also, she didn't live the last two years of my own marriage where no one was physically injured and yet there was no physical intimacy, let alone emotional intimacy.

My own mate worked hard all day and came home to sit in front of the TV for four or five hours then go to bed. He didn't talk to me, he didn't communicate in any form other than to tell me he needed more beer.

When going to bed at night, I would swallow my pain, my hurt, the frustration and disappointment and alone-ness. I would look at him asleep and most nights I would leave him to sleep, knowing that he had to get up early.

Sometimes I would instigate sexual contact by attempting a little foreplay... 9 times out of 10 he would either sleep through it or push me away. That one time out of ten, he would wake up, accept the blow job then roll over and go back to sleep without so much as a word. Then, he would get up in the morning, go out into the living room, turn on the fuck-flicks and masturbate himself before leaving for work.

For aproximately two and a half years this took place. During this two and a half years, we had actual sex less than six times. He was always too tired or too busy.

I would still be married to him but for the wreck. I was hospitalized for three weeks and unable to walk unassisted for three months after that. He was pissed off with me, saying that I was babying myself and that I was sponging off my parents. And then he told me that it wasn't like I was in a life-and-death situation.

It wasn't until then that I actually woke up and realized that I wanted and needed something different in my life. I know what it's like to live in a love-less marriage. My marriage was four years long. For the final three years, there was no love whatsoever in that marriage.

My personal opinion on behalf of your friend is that she needs to think about what she wants in and for her life. No one else can make the decision for her. And, if she is seeking comfort somewhere else before making her decision, then she needs to stop.

(That means, if she is in denial, she needs to snap out of that and wake up.)

Whatever she decides, whether it is to remain married in name only and see other people for sex, or to remain "faithful" is her business. I can't truly advise her. Nor can I advise you.

You got my life story, so to speak... though that is the massively edited version *grins*.

Suffice it to say, I wish peace to your friend. Whatever choice she makes, the only thing that matters in this scenario is that she be true to who and what she is. If that includes extra-marrital physical relationships... more power to her.

It doesn't work for me.

So, I've been thinking about that most of the day... what choices did I make in the name of acceptance? What choices have I made in the name of some bullshit idea of what love is?

I've prattled on and on here many times about the meaning of love... of what love really is. I've never actually been able to describe what I mean in words that make sense.

(which is extremely frustrating for someone who likes to think of themself as a writer)

So, let me try this one more time...

There are differences between love, intimacy and sex.

In my opinion, this is the way a successful and healthy relationship should progress...

First comes love. It is a decision, not an emotional or psychological reaction. It is a choice one makes.

Once the choice has been made, the papers signed, the wedding ceremony completed, THEN comes intimacy.

Intimacy is the connection, mind to mind, soul to soul, heart to heart. It is the bond that forms through conversation, non-sexual physical contact and non-verbal communication.

After the commitment has been made (love) and the relationship has been formed (intimacy) then sex comes in as the physical representation of the committed relationship. It makes a sturdy, complete picture.

The concept of "hallmark love" (that's how I refer to the whole "I'm in love" thing) is false. The reaction... the emotional feeling... that is a reaction to something... either hormones, mental stimulation, visual stimulation.. whatever.

The reaction/feeling is called "love" by so many, by the majority of the world, even. But it's not "true".

Damn, I need a different word!

Fuck, I need my thesaurus.

*sighs*

Alright... subject A walks down the street. Subject B sees subject A and halts in mid stride, (a reaction to visual stimulus) amazed and awed by this beauty subject B sees.

The majority of the world at large calls that instantainious reaction "love at first sight". It is not love at first sight, it is a hormonal reaction.

Oh fuck it.

I obviously don't know what I'm talking about. I'm obviously trying to make some point which is completely eluding me and pissing me off in the process.

What's my main point? I"m angry. I'm angry that I hate myself. I'm angry that when I hear someone laughing behind me, my first thought is always that they're laughing AT ME!

I'm pissed off because on a logical level, who's to say they're laughing at me? On a logical level I can understand that sometimes people laugh just because they want to laugh.

I hate hearing laughter when I walk by. I hate hearing little children laughing at me because they've never seen anyone as fat as me.

At the above mentioned club, I saw a profile for a person who called herself a "feedee". I had no idea what that was. So, I looked at the profile. I was shocked and disgusted. It was a woman who appeared to be very, very large already. Well hell.. this is the profile, look for yourself.

feedee

Her "occupation" was "Gain Weight and Being Extremely Lazy"

I was disgusted. Not necessarily because of her chosen lifestyle, though I think it's a strange one, but because I feel like she looks. Something inside me... some small part of me says I don't look like that. But the fat has a louder voice. The self hatred has a louder voice.

How do I get out of this cycle? I call a counselor and get professional help. I have to. I absolutely have to. I can't handle looking at myself and seeing... *shudders*

How can I hate myself so much on one level? How can I be so damned disgusted on that one level and be cool with the rest of my life?

That doesn't make any sense.

And what do I want?

I want a man to look at me, to see how scared and terrified and alone I am. I want him to protect me from myself. I want him to hold me and hold me and hold me so that I can cry until the tears won't come anymore.

But will that fix the problem?

I don't know.

I really don't know.

I wish to hell I knew.

Part of me says that if I had that emotional release... if I finally let it all go... just released it all... I would get through the weight-loss-block. If I could find another way to deal with the heart break, rage and fury I feel... maybe I would be able to give away the fat.

Damn it... this writing this is only confusing me more. I hate this. Usually the writing clarifies.

Fuck...

Well, I'm going to take some advice I would give a friend... IF someone else were in this situation, where they're pushing for the answer, feeling that it's just on the periphery... just barely out of reach... but they keep pushing, thinking that if they strain just one hair's width more, they might reach that elusive dream of thought.

Uh uh.

Stop, Jennifer. The more you strain, the more you push your goal further out of reach. It will just sit there and taunt you, just barely out of reach.

So, post this entry, get offline and call the counseling office. Leave a message on their machine, speaking clearly and in an adult manner, but requesting an appointment.

Grow up, kiddo. You can't fix it all in one night.

Breathe, post, log off, call, then go to sleep!

*sighs softly*

Yes... there is a large weight off my shoulders. Breathe. I don't have to carry it. Breathe. I don't have to know the answer tonight. Breathe.

*exhales slowly*

Peace unto thy hearts.

I'll tell you what happened tomorrow morning, or afternoon, or sometime tomorrow.