Ac/Dc-Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

My bedroom still smells like him. What the fuck am I doing? The Harley Rider almost cost me a woman. I was upfront about having him and she worried I was just out for sex. She's bi also and realizes what a bad rep bisexuals can get so after some discussion we were on the same page.
I've recently started coming to terms with my bisexuality. I look back and realize it's been there since I was an adolescent, if not earlier. I just wasn't cognizant of it. I had never heard the term bisexual. I had a fairly conservative upbringing. When I became curious my mother gave me a sex education book written by the conservative Dr. James Dobson. That was confusing as fuck! I thought men just rubbed against you and I decided that might be okay. So learning about intercourse at school was kind of mind blowing. The just of this book was, unsurprisingly, abstinence must be practiced. You weren't suppose to have sex before marriage. Having a same sex partner was so far out of the realm of that education. But why then did I keep looking at the Frederick's of Hollywood catalogs? I loved looking at the women's butts. I'm not sure if I would call myself an ass woman but I loved the butts in those catalogs. It was there, along with an attraction to boys, but I had no name for it. I didn't understand bisexuality or that I was one. And when I started taking baby steps I was met with shame and rejection.
After graduating high school at my job there was an "old" (maybe 50?) bisexual woman. When she heard I was curious and had questions she thought I wanted to have sex with her and wouldn't even talk to me. I was so disgusted! She was the last woman I wanted to have sex with. I believe that it is a common misconception that if you are attracted to the same sex you are attracted to every single same sex person you meet. It took me awhile to realize that being attracted to women was the same as the attraction towards men. Some women I am attracted to, others not so much. I am not attracted to every man I meet. Why would I be attracted to every woman I meet? I think about that "old" bi woman. What an asshole! A young girl with questions and you can't even answer a single query. And I feel like it only went downhill from there.

Blue Oyster Cult-Burnin' For You

Things are fucked up! In the world in general but especially when it comes to love. There is heavy traffic on the dating sites right now. Everyone is looking for a hook-up. And my Harley Rider is all over the place. According to him this is still not a relationship but he bounces from extremes like a mentally unstable child.
This morning alone he said, "No one puts his cock in my pussy and your pussy is mine", along with, "Just use a condom with other guys".
I texted my ex-boyfriend yesterday. He was extremely mercurial throughout our relationship until I left him. Now ten years later he still consistently tells me he wants me back and how much he loves me. I just figured if anyone could give me some insight into the Harley Rider's brain it would be him. I worry I may just repeating the past.
I do however admit I am getting some amazing stress relief. We may be screwing with each other's heads as much as our bodies. But it is certainly fun to roll around in bed with him for hours. It has even made it easier to be around my dad. It could be alleviating some of my caretaker/family dysfunction burnout.

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After Note: Fell asleep at my Dad's because I am so tired staying up with my Harley Rider. He wouldn't let me sleep because he wanted to binge, "Curb your Enthusiasm". I don't want to watch "Curb your Enthusiasm" with my Dad. I reverted to emotional eating and wolfed down tortilla chips and ice cream. I think I need more sex.

Tame Impala-The Less I Know The Better

I went out with the Romanian last night. My Latino Harley rider said we were not exclusive. That didn't last for long. He came over after I got home. He wants me to cut it off with the Romanian. And we are now seeing each other. I'm not quite sure if I know what I am getting myself into. He went into full machismo mode. He said he would fight over me if it came down to it. I certainly do not want punches thrown on my behalf. The Harley rider can be a dick when he needs to be a dick.
The Romanian seems to be more sensitive and was willing to take things slow. Am I making a big fucking mistake? Am I throwing away the chance to an emotionally healthy relationship? One not based on carnal desire. I came so hard last night. It is almost impossible to see beyond the pleasure.
How do I end things with the Romanian? I may want to be bad but I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Does it at least deserve a phone call? I am usually the one being dumped. I am not good at gracefully ending things.

Ellie Goulding-Close to Me

The South American Harley rider stayed with me in my bed last night. I was going to break off things and instead had him come over. I feel such a primal animalistic desire for him. I am like a teenager fresh with hormones. Have I become the cliche of the blossoming woman under his hands? I just needed a good screw by the right man?
He drives me fucking crazy. The gruff biker teddy bear and I'm his bitch. Afterwards we cuddle naked, flesh pressed into naked flesh. We are trying to meld together like melting crayons for a stained glass project. He woke me up at 3:30 am to ride him. He is relentless.
I masturbated after he left as I recalled the night before. I needed porn to finish. What is going on with me? I just am so sick of being good. I want to be bad. It's almost like the 80's movies where the housewife is the horny hooker.
This goes beyond a little caretaker burn out. I think family dysfunction is smothering me. I can not be responsible for everyone's emotions. Sure, logically I know that we can not control another person's emotions. But the fucking unrelenting training in my childhood is that I am indeed responsible. It's a lot to shoulder as a kid. And try as I might I can not break the loop in my brain.
 

The Weeknd-Save Your Tears

I want to be bad. Even before this horrific pandemic I wanted to bust out of my trap. I am so sick of doing the right thing and being a good girl. And I do have covid fatigue. At the beginning I entered lock down but now I am just so sick of the social isolation I am bursting out.
I recently threw caution to the wind and risked both my heart and health. He was from South America and loves motorcycles. He has thick black hair, beautiful brown eyes, stubble and killer eyebrows. He is a gruff biker teddy bear. I could have easily fallen in love with him. But he just wanted to have fun and I want a relationship. He didn't want to break my heart so we ended things. But before we ended things we had a couple of glorious nights in bed. So I went from social isolation to jumping into bed and exchanging bodily fluids with someone who does not take the coronavirus seriously. He takes almost no precautions and I didn't take any precautions with him. But the way he kissed me...
I take care of my elderly father and often am told what a good daughter I am to him. That in and of itself is loaded but I won't focus on that now. I go back to my original thought. I want to be bad. I am a good white girl from the Midwest. I do my best to not to be a Karen. I am a good friend, sister, cousin, worker and citizen. But it can be suffocating; this trying to be good all the time. This constant putting of other's needs above my own. I feel like that could kill me, not Covid 19. I am only human. And that might be how I ended up in bed with a South American Harley rider.

Tanglewood

I started thinking existentially this morning.  I've recently finished both Debbie Harry's autobiography, "Face it", and Flea's, "Acid for the Children". So I could be in a self assessing state of mind. Plus it's a new decade! I realized last night that I have a tough time realizing I exist. That my body and mind are connected and I will not float off into the cosmos until this body is done for. Perhaps I have lived too much of my life in my head. I have never been one for sweaty, grueling physical activity. And past trauma has caused a life-long problem of dissociating at the most inconvenient times. So this morning I thought to myself; what is my purpose in life? Why have the powers that be grant me this life I am living? And my automatic go to is caretaking. I have taken care of many children and animals. I have taken care of my mother as the horrible disease of cancer ravaged her body and took her life. And I take care of my elderly father. While I take comfort that I have given comfort and care to many who have needed it. I ask myself...is this just what society expects me to do? That I have simply fulfilled society's role assigned to women. It's a quagmire. I am good at taking care of others and feel it adds to our messy society. But would I have found other strengths if not for society telling me I needed to take care of other people? Would my purpose in life be something else? I grew up in the 80's. But despite it being after the first wave of feminism, society was still locked in strict gender roles. Of course, we could say that in 2020 we are locked in strict gender roles. What if I would have been pushed in science and math? What if I were pushed in sports? I watch with glee as my nieces are raised in a system which does push them to stretch. Which leads me back to my original morning thought. What is my purpose in life? Perhaps even as I approach fifty I can push myself to stretch despite not receiving incentive to grow as a young girl. That's a daunting thought- can I push myself out of my comfort area of caretaking and develop other strengths that could lead to a more fulfilling societal role? I'd like to think yes, but I do not anticipate it being easy. Here's to the new year and decade! And a new me.

New Kids on the Block

When I was young I traveled to Brazil. I remember getting off of the plane with my excitement building by the minute. We emerged from the airport and caught a taxi to go through the mountain tunnel on the way to Rio de Janeiro. New Kids on the Block was pouring from the speakers in the taxi. I was beyond disappointed. I was ready to experience Brazilian culture and America had followed me.
On that trip I saw poverty like I had never seen before and it broke my heart. We were staying in a luxury hotel and I cried each night at the poverty I had seen during the day. There were children literally sleeping on the streets. And the card board shacks of the favelas spread up the mountain sides. There was one woman with a baby outside of our hotel. Every night I would have my aunt, who spoke fluent portuguese, give her my leftovers from dinner. On our last night in Rio she tried to give us her baby. She cried as she begged us to take her child from her and give him a better life. It almost destroyed me.