(Warning: profanity, rant, possibly even blasphemy..But some positive stuff, too!).

Ok, I shouldn’t refer to narcissistic ex “Hero” as “Satan”.. (Yes I should! Right? Those of you who’ve read some of my posts about him, already know that his “other other” alias is “The Unimaginable Bastard”,  with good cause. If you don’t know why, you may want to read earlier posts like: Sledge Hammer, and then The A-bomb). 

Why I am referring to him as Satan, is simply because this volcano anger started boiling inside me today. It comes in waves. Today it came back and I thought: Who the hell does he think he is? Does he think he’s somehow gonna get away with ripping out hearts, stomping on them, and the rest of his general douchebaggery.. for the remainder of his life, without consequences? I beg to differ, “Satan”. You’ll be in your lonely Hell with burning blisters on the soles of your feet, for eternity.


And if not, some poor unstable soul that you screwed over, will set up such a revenge to destroy your life, that you wish you’d never been born. Good luck, have fun! Don’t bother writing me in future, I’ve developed dyslexia. Yeah, honest. My reading ability has vanished, 100% . It just popped up, a really bad, mutated, dyslexia gene, scientists are baffled how it could develop in adulthood.. anyway, I couldn’t read a word of what you would be writing. Oh, and don’t ring my door bell, either. Yeah, I’ve gone completely, inexplicably, deaf. Yep. Doctors said nothing can be done.


Carrie Bradshaw was definitely onto something! Eat this, Hero! 

Rant over.

The thing I was going to talk about, is dating after, well, “Satan”. The reason I’ve dragged my feet, as you may know, is because I’m not yet healed enough. (No shit, you’re thinking, after reading this here rant today). But you see, I’ve been thinking about it all backwards… or should I say, looking too far ahead. In my mind’s eye, I’ve seen myself sitting at awkward coffee dates, desperately talking about the interior design of the coffee shop, to find something to fill up the dreaded silence. I’ve watched scenes in my head where I’m “waiting by the phone” (I know no one does that since cell phones, but I just love that expression for some reason). And I envision myself in a heap on the floor, knocked out by the harsh reality of yet another rejection, or a new relationship which ends in flames at take-off…

But why am I preparing for the worst? Why am I rushing everything in these scenarios? I’m playing fast forward ’til the end credits, before the movie even begins playing. Geezus, SurvivedNarc, you’re not gonna marry some guy, or even be intimate with him, just cause you’ve talked for an hour…


I’ve figured out that I don’t “have to” be completely healed, to start dating. I think I thought so, cause of all the “self help”-type of articles I’ve read. They sort of infiltrated my brain. It became a mantra, (said in a robotic voice, like the Terminator;

“Must.Be.Healed.Before.Talking.To.Men”. I’ve clearly been programmed.

But I don’t “have to” do/be anything. Hell, I could probably start up with a new boyfriend in two weeks, if I set my mind to it. (I see you frowning, Dear Reader, not to worry, I won’t do that!) What I need to do is simply take it easy. Meaning, I must relax, chill the fuck down, with all these train-wreck-future-scenarios in my head, about dating. I’ve figured out that I am not ready to date anyone face to face, today. But I am ready to try talking to men, on a dating site. Just try, like trying on that 300 dollar dress I never bought. Yes. That feels good. There is a freedom in that. I don’t have to get my heart broken and my soul hit by a bus. (Again). I have the power here. And truth is, I really miss talking to someone who seems a bit special, to get that fluttering sensation in your belly and think “What if..”

Besides. If I don’t take some sort of action soon, I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll go right ahead and buy 9 more cats besides the one I already have, and just declare myself a Crazy Cat Lady.


I bet you’d like that, Mr. Cat? (See, I’m almost there, already, the way I’m talking to my cat, and all!)

Do some of you date? How bad is it out there? Is it like “Oh, you’s just.. drizzling. You’ll be fine with an umbrella”, or is it: “Don’t go out, whatever you do! Global warming has finally taken over, and half the world is under water, and the other half is experiencing constant hail storms and thunder, apocalypse style…” ? Don’t worry about scaring me with stories; I feel the strength returning to me, ever so slowly, but steadily. Love 💜/Survived

(Images:1:Daimonz/deviantart, 2:frack2211/picmonkey, 3:my own)