every girl wants a cowboy…

Well, every woman I know wants a cowboy or a man who’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, move a little muscle, you know the stuff that comes into play when you imagine yourself with someone physically, easily able to toss you here or there. The women I know are not turned on by bankers or those of you dudes who never get your hands dirty, emasculated to the realms of the paper pushers, the androgynous mass that could be woman or man, because there is nothing aggressive or dominant about those guys. They are boring. They sometimes end up trying to be the most dominant men in bed, though, apparently unhappy with their subservient paper pushing life, ready to do something really masculine. I am down to the primal shit now, the animal attraction and desire as a female to be devoured, held down, dominated over, and yeah, protected both emotionally and physically. I was my father’s daughter, watching spaghetti westerns and war movies the main fodder of my viewing entertainment and I wasn’t one to go out reading romance novels or anything even remotely inciting because I grew up understanding masculinity not as a fluffy temporary thing, but a strong thing, a protective thing. Those solutions were largely violent and certainly never about diplomacy, as I tend to try and regulate my mind to reason to believe now.

Before I ventured here, the very literal land of cowboys, I was just a chick who had resolved to live in Jersey City after Brooklyn and Manhattan became foolhardy experiments in claustrophobia for wayyy too much money. After my Hidalgo experiment went famously awry, I decided, yes, because I am a fucking genius and I guess because I like the abuse (no, no, no it’s for the story, I’ll tell you) I jumped back online but went venturing through to another website, okcupid (okc for the people who are on it way too much that four syllables will never beat the convenience of three)…and I did set up a new profile.

Back in the day when I first started the online dating thing, I had a profile with the headline, “girl most likely to punch you in the face.” People didn’t really get that I was being sassy and sometimes mistook me for being a dom into masochism but, no, I was just trying to be clever, and I am usually somewhat of an expert at setting those suckers up, getting the attention, putting the right photos up. So when NY provided a list of dudes I went out with who largely were unimpressive, well, not largely, fucking entirely, I became a little bored. And when I tell you I went out with 20 dudes here in the past 5 months, let me just tell you that I occasionally went out with dudes in NY, and often I would be talking to 6 or more at a time, entirely bent on entertaining myself. I would go out with whomever, given I am somewhat of an equal opportunity dater, and really need just the verification that you can coherently form a sentence, be smart enough to entice me in some manner with your attitude, honesty, intelligence or spontaneity. Bonus points always go to those who want to explore the world, those who are taller than me (I am close to 6 feet tall after all), those who think outside the box and scoff at classic ideas of religion, politics, those who have a taste in art and can describe what they like, those who of course have the patience to read through my drivel, and um, those who would win in an arm wrestling match is always better than the alternative, and trust me I have been the winner many times. The people I tend to get along with the best are the creators. I desire the leaders over the followers, most likely because I am not a follower of anything or anyone, aside from my own instincts and rules about living which I have developed through my own observation and belief in the power of energy.

This is the energy that stirs you awake in those quiet moments, the points in time where you see what this is all about, the zap you get from knowing how someone is going to feel just in how they kiss, the sparks I get from seeing puppies or babies every day, the newness and energy, the fresh start at life before negativity even has the chance to pervade one’s own consciousness. The energy in looking up into the sky and knowing, not just believing, but knowing we are not all there is out there. I walk along the dirt road in Buena Vista sometimes, falling into bouts of vertigo when I look up into the sky there, the largest city, a small town, some 30 miles away, and when you look up and see all of those stars, the black spaces no more than one inch apart from the twinkling suns, well, those are the moments I know I am not even a speck of dust in this big universe, a cognizant being, half bionic girl whose heart literally clicks in a snapping metronome of thumps every moment of every day.

So, the Cowboy, as we’ll call him, was the last man I had contact with before I jumped off of okcupid that first day of summer, me taken in by his reaching out to me in the vast internet ether, an entrepreneur who like me, had his fingers in many pies, always imagining, dreaming and believing in doing other things, running our own empires, not happy being in positions working for other people.

The difference between us ultimately came at a price, because he actually wouldn’t work for other people, whereas I was much more practical, understanding I needed a job to fund these ideas where I had little to no capital to run them. His first email to me set the tone that turned into the theme, of something perfectly magical indeed:

What can I say in one word to sum up riding the roller coaster with you in spirit, as I read your truth…

I believe that its not one word, and or words for that matter, as it seems to me you have that covered as well as your own batch of life experiences early on.

Actions… I will show with actions, and sharing, and listening as much as I act upon/and share.

… I hit the period on the keyboard… smiling wincing and smiling again… thank you for this,I look forward to getting to know you, and doing some magical thing(s)

Out of curiosity, and not to be a cheeze ball by any means (Even though some fromage well placed is good fromage)

What sign are you?

***

When you start out a relationship with someone intellectually, with words, it is a totally different experience than the drunken sloppy makeout session at the bar and the sometimes inevitable conclusion that you kinda did have your beer goggles on, and dude is not quite as cute as you want him to be, and the alcohol lube made for a funnier experience than reality. Or that even the lady you ended up with is not quite the hot little supermodel your beer goggles thinned her out to be.

But see, this is just my impression given I tend to avoid ever picking any dude up in any bar. It’s not how I like to meet people…and though I would certainly have a conversation or a drink with a dude in a bar, I am sure not going home with them. I have had more than my fair share of I wouldnothavedonethathadInotbeentrashed even almost accidental sex because I have been obliterated beyond rational coherence, and it’s really just not my style, nor is it something I want to repeat again in my lifetime. I am a super sexual little thing, but in general I tend to try and get inside the head of someone or let them seep into my own before I want to go there anyways. I could go other places right here, but for now I will explain away the cowboy.

The cowboy and I talked every day for sometimes 8-10 hours a day on chat, and even before we met face to face we were very close, used to each other’s voices, and accepting of everything.

This, a week after we met, after one of my disclosures about an ex, who was then living with me again for a little while. It was winter and it was cold and he had nowhere to go given he had not been making enough money to pay rent. Our relationship was entirely platonic at that time, and I often thought of him as my gay roommate since he was all up in our shit all of the time. It was the only way I could cope, given how independent my little tail is…

I am sending this, as I just woke up, (had a rough sleep, cold sweats feel like death warmed over…)
wanted to message you back before I try to get a lil more rest, but didnt want to leave you hanging, especially as the first thing I did was check my e-mail rather than roll over, and try to drift back off, and hopefully the dream weaver rigs the roulette wheel in my/our favor… so we can spend time in a realm where we can paint our realities…

Back to the point, woke up for whatever reasons, and went against my body screaming… well more so pleading actually… to bury my head and shut it down again…
I reached for the laptop logged on to my e-mail… and here you were, and or it is/was.

I dare say exactly what I sensed/felt, thank for the e-mail, and to not string you along with more words to see how this story does Not end…Sorry one more sentence 😉

I believe you, I dont have a problem… well my stomach did… but it is the Eeyore to my Tiger at times (attached for your viewing pleasure, and illustration purposes 😉

Know this, I Adore you, Im not perfect myself, I truly understand, been there done that, I will never judge you, and I would like to be as unconditional as humanly possible (and then some) with eachother (Not to set us up for disrespectful free for alls, and or a universal pass on certain things, but unconditional nonetheless.)

I have my things I’m dealing with as well, maybe not the exact same… regardless, we obviously had lives before we met, and it would be unrealistic bordering ridiculous, to snap ones fingers and expect everything to be spotless…. as you said no thanks, I will take it as it comes, and give the best that I can as it goes…

Started this when I got your e-mail and it said sent 0 mins ago… took me a lil while to write this, cause I paused a few times, and realized my writing can be some what infantile, my use of commas and the thought process illustrations painted with dot dot dot … do that a lil too much 😉 I know, I know who gives a Shhh… but out of respect for your gift, I would like to ramp up… (Jus sayin) *wink, hand on the leg, a loud smack on the lips, and a cheers with a cold one (As we should be having this conversation in a old pub tucked away in a dim lit corner, with shepherds pie that seemed like a good idea at the time.)

Ok, I dont re-read/edit, and or give the computer a chance to crash… I hit send, pardon for typos, and or incoherent ramblings…
End of the day, were stil good, and I dare say always will be, but I can only speak for myself, as that’s all I have control over, and or ever wish to have control over… you do you, and I’ll do me, and we can meet in the middle.

Big X little x, Big O little o.

Me.

***

I know, I know, how unethical, right? Fuck that. This is my life, these are my experiences, and I certainly have the right to discuss or disclose anything I want. I know some people are generally unnerved by my disclosure, but as a smart young man once remarked to me, you just avoid that by not being a douche. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the moral of that story.

I can readily admit I am also past the point of documenting a ton of the negativity, and those of you who leave a less than desirable taste in my mouth can rest assured I would never let it get to that level again. This is why I stopped talking to you, sorry boys!

He was from Toronto, and Toronto was where I went, two weeks after I was let go from my job…

When I saw him, it was instant. He joked about greeting me at the airport with a tutu on, calling himself a cowboy tutu wearing funny guy, who cracked me up with his constant joking, impressions, and even his constant referring to me as his first future ex wife to his friend’s children, who lived in the home he constantly couch surfed on.

He was tall, 6’3, my favorite, and he was pure man, not fat, not soft, but totally and absolutely solid. He had longer dark brown hair he had wrapped into a knot at the back of his neck, and he wore a baseball cap. He smelled like man…oh god. I still to this day wear that cologne he wore sometimes because it just has a very hot association for me, though it’s also heartbreaking. I had it on some things he gave me before I left as well, some shirts I scored and yes, cheesily slept with like it mattered and something would magically switch in the universe to make him not douche out like he did.

What a total dumb girl move, right?

Yeah, but I guess I am a girl, so get over it.

We stayed at the hotel, and left a few times to get food, largely, he taking me on some walking tours to see his friends, one who I spoke on the phone with for a while, a sweet woman who partied and danced it out with me the last night I was there, too. I did have a good time, but there was something off about him in terms of his attention.

Did I sleep with him? What do you think?

He made me nervous and it was difficult not to want to jump on him all of the time, but that’s just because he was hot, hot hot hot. I have better photos of him on this horse but there’s no need to give too much detail.

Oh, those Canadian tuxedos, but come on, now?

My dumb ass literally cried when I got to the airport, thinking I had found my entrepreneurial equal, someone who was kind, who was sweet, who was super hot and super sexual and who cracked me up even still. Someone Canadian, and really who hates Canadians? Hockey fans. That’s who. And I like hockey, but I’m a girl, so I am all in with hockey boys. And yeah, he had played hockey, too.

A few months pass and there is talk of getting passports renewed but the business deal needed funding and immediately. I had found a way to get some disposable income to help him and so I did. I started wiring him money that September, just a little. And after I did that we seemed to be talking less and less, he always in the middle of some crisis, some dilemma which would prevent us from being able to see each other, some kink in the wheel which was going to make things difficult. It was then that I started to shut down, but very slowly at first.

But a few months and several small loans later, that October, I headed up to Canada again, checking out Nuit Blanche. I didn’t really tell anyone I was going because I was too humiliated to explain why I wanted to go deck him. I wanted to see what Toronto had to offer with their art and I guess, yeah, I was going to see that Cowboy and punch him in the face. Ok, the art show was a cover story, I really wanted to kick his ass. I was past the point of understanding what was happening, until I saw him across the street ready to pick me up, quite literally, as I jumped and he caught me in his arms, kissing me. Ah, yeah, I could get used to that…

And then he was gone. And I never saw him again. Not that trip, not ever. Did he get more money from me? Of course. Did he pay me back even a dollar, give me that Toronto dream trip he promised me for months after we first met. No, he did not. Shocking, I know.

He broke his arm in a rollerblading accident one Winter day around their civic center–and he was then down for the count for some time, unable to do anything apparently. Why didn’t I go see him? Oh, I offered.  Maybe because he’s a sneaky shady douchebag, or maybe he couldn’t take being the weak little thing that he ended up being, unable to take care of himself really, at all.

Or maybe, yes, I know, maybe he lied his face off about all of it. He continued to lose his phone and changed his number a million times, changed his residence just the same…and I still had one leg in the boat. Dumb, I know. Naive, totally.

I know, I know, this is one of those classic how could you not know any better experiments. I get it. I am sometime stubborn, and actually my belief that people are good at their soul allowed me to see past the obvious inconsistencies, never questioning how someone who grew up in the same damn city hadn’t fostered friendships with those he could lean on, why did he resort to taking cash from someone he barely knew? And why did I keep giving the help?

As I said, I am one of those people who helps those in need, offers it before you ask…parts of me have given in and recognized the stupidity in that. I haven’t done it since, and though I always take care of my people when I am around, right now my people are largely innocuous, not stable, and inconsistent. I trust my friends even here more than my family because they are not used to me, and I am not used to them, and as a result they are not those I would lean on in times of strife. I’d pick the damn phone up and call E in NY, for crying out loud. We talk more than when we were dating, many times a week, and he is my best friend.

Admittedly the whole story only recently started feeling resolved especially after realizing beyond a shadow of a doubt he didn’t care what position I was in, what I needed. They never think about you like you think of them, ladies. It’s just the way it is.

And here, Kristen, is that email I told you he sent, right after we cracked up at the Hidalgo text proposals I got, both of us cracking up when we recognized the insanity of all of my experiments with boys.

F U
For sending me an “fe-mail”
Like that.

Stop the lashing out already fuck it’s getting old…

Love you miss you fuck you!

Ok unlike you I don’t mean the eff you part fully.

P.S.
I read your lengthy fe-mails so stop it with the bullshit a d d comments.

Glad you’re with family and cowboys in your new stomping ground

Give a cowboy his space and time to figure his shot out already…

Thank you ahead of time.

Xo

See you sooner than you believe.

***

I believe never again, dear. Anything sooner than that is beyond belief.