Fruit on the Fucking Tree

Recently I was having a moment of weakness and thought, “hmmm, maybe I should ask my ex why I wasn’t enough.” Well. Turns out it wasn’t me at all, it was “the fruit on the tree being too much” for him to “not take a bite of.” Sit back and hold on tight, shit is about to get really real.

As a creature of great enthusiasm, This me asking the “why,” when I first started writing this particular blog entry I had a direction selected and thought it was exactly right. Then, I sat in a training that was insightful and significant in the direction that I ultimately took. (Which might actually be kinder)

Preparing myself for the response to “why” was an easy task…which entailed having a reaction that placed a significant chunk of blame squarely on someone else’s shoulders. I had my arguments at the ready, poised to be a direct hit to his response. However, the response I received deflated my arousal for a battle. I felt deflated and confused at first. Then I felt like he was taking pity on me. Ugh. Stupid brain and story I tell myself. I was putting blame on myself EVEN when he took responsibility.

So…the fruit is too tempting. Yes it is. I know this. However, when I heard this shit my mind exploded. I was like, WTF, this belief of his ultimately, excuses any of his past, current, and possible future indiscretions. (Which will not be my problem darlings…) So, when I considered this for a few minutes, I giggled. Then I laughed out loud, thinking “I can’t even deal.” Then of course, I also shared this declaration of insight with my resident male expert, “Hook.” Who had the perfect response, per usual.

My physical reaction from the feedback from Hook was mildly helpful and slowed my brain down enough to take perspective to recognize, at least he didn’t blame me. But come on, who says fruit from the tree?? It took courage to put myself out there and ask the “why.” Didn’t I “deserve” something more profound? Well not really, especially since my motives for asking the why want related to him at all.

The why I was really looking for is from someone else. We will call him, the Sheriff of Nottingham, “dickhead” for short. Most people know the Sheriff of Nottingham was a bitch that served the king who taxed Sherwood. Well, in this story, he is the dickhead, who also liked to tell women what is expected and not expected from them whilst in the bedroom. (Cause his momma taught him that)

We talked, connected (as good as you can electronically), had many commonalities-we like guns, whiskey, great music, and watching others to make sure they’re not up to any shenanigans. Then the sex talk. You know the one where there is give and take and limits being set…did you know some people do not like having these conversations? Better yet, they don’t want a woman to tell them what they like (GASP)!!!

The Sheriff was very uncomfortable with this direction. I know this because he said so…but not in a direct conversation related to chivalry and being a sensitive man. NOPE. He talked about it in the way of calling names and being a dick. Luckily, I know what to say to people who are unkind and not supportive. However, this guy, said his peace and battened down the communication hatches. Block texts, messaging, and other avenues. Which is really fine, I just wanted to be the one who did it first, but only after I gave him a taste of the classic “Krissy tongue beat down.” Which BTW, is profoundly shaming and makes people cry.

Then just like that…NEXT! Which is fine, but that damn “why.” I’ll never know that why and I’ll be ok with that. Although I don’t need that negativity in my life, the bravery of asking the “why” is helping me figure out my pattern. Which, when I wanted to just stay silent (for about fifteen seconds) I was brave and stood for what I wanted.

Then just like that…I got my groove and asked myself “who do I want to be” and responded with, “I will stray into the unknown with courage, even though I’m afraid.”