To a drum worth its weight in gold,

(Trigger Warning: this post mentions suicidal thoughts.)

I’m sitting here realizing I have no one to talk to. (Obviously, that doesn't include you lovely people reading this.) I got all these birthday wishes yesterday, and people told me how proud they were and they’re here if I need them. They truly do mean the sentiment, but they have no idea what that entails. I’ve never been normal and often had friends with different hobbies and interests that all existed in silos. The number of people who know all of me and my quirks are few and far between. In fact, it was three. My ex, my ex-best friend, and you. This stranger from miles away. You listened to all of my stories and mishaps, never batting an eye when some weird new fact arose.

(At this point, this turns from a letter to an emotional jumbled rant. Look, I was not doing well. You've been warned.)

That guy who shaved my head messaged me this morning out of nowhere. I haven’t heard from him since that night in August, and all of a sudden, he pops up on my phone. He was trying to put together a threesome where he would be Dom’d by two women. He already had the other Dom selected he just wanted to know if I would join in. I almost said yes. Here is this man who butchered my hair, promised to be around, and then ignored me for over a month. I shouldn’t have been surprised that the only reason he reached out was for his own benefit. Because co-doming with a mouthy sadist isn’t really my idea of fun. I actually don’t even know what she looks like, I was just given a vague description. I was asked to share a selfie; I guess I was the only one who had to pass the attractiveness test. Which, looking back, is super insulting. He had already found someone willing to Dom him, but he decided I wasn’t good enough and went off looking for another. He then had the balls to make me jump through hoops to be allowed to join. The worst part, as I said, I almost did it. Even though it was only really for his benefit, and he had already proved himself unreliable and self-centered. But what can I say loneliness is a bitch. We didn’t even really have sex the first time. He just starfished like some pillow princess, and I finally had enough and just pulled out a toy and dealt with the problem myself. (See that right there, I can’t tell that to any of my friends. It would either scare them, or I would be the butt of a joke for months).

I had decided, why not what’s the harm I know to keep everyone at arm's length now. But work got crazy, and I wouldn’t even make it till after she left. Something about her sloppy seconds didn’t sound all that fun. That and I started bawling in the bathroom, if I’m being honest. Growing up, my mom used to tell me I looked like a dude or a hooker it really depended on what mood she was in. But I was standing in front of that mirror with my terrified hedgehog haircut (apparently, the hair on the top of my head defies gravity. It just keeps growing vertical, leaving me to look like an alarmed spiky menace) I can't help but look masculine with my height and build. So I tried to put on some makeup, figuring maybe I could rock the goth vibe. But after I put my brush down and popped my contacts in, it hit me like a punch to the gut. My mom was finally right. I either look like a dude or a hooker in my current predicament. I couldn’t keep it together. At that point, the tears started, and there was no stopping them. I canceled the plans and distracted myself with more work until that didn’t help. So now I’m here. Cause I was scrolling in my phone looking for someone to talk to, and I have no one. Not that I can be totally honest with. For the record, I did call the guy out on being a flake, but his response -

“I’m just exploring. I’m going through some stuff and need an outlet”

I’m sick of being people's outlets. I’m sick of being exchangeable. This whole journey, I kept telling myself I deserve better and I’m a catch. But at this point, I don’t even believe it. I’m just a sad thirty-something living in an RV, trying not to look at the knife set for too long. I don’t have a home or a family. The only people who actively want me either want to use me or bend me into something I’m not so I can fit into their lives. My whole life, I’ve had this recurring feeling that I wasn’t built correctly. Like I was designed in such a way that I will never fit into this world. I was always going to be the one left out, or in pain. The only thing keeping me around at this point is the fact I don't want to leave a mess for others to deal with.

(Oh, the little joys, how they save us sometimes. The THC finally hit, and I just heard from Dom #2 that someone is a terrible sub. LMFAO! She actually seems pretty cool, so I'm keeping her on number and deleting his.)