Facebook, the Root of all Evil…

 

 

I remember at first the idea of social media being so foreign, I couldn’t fathom the possibilities. Really there was only Facebook at the time, but it was new and profound. The idea of being connected, and important. Lol, I no longer feel that way, but at the time, I felt like I was part of a movement. Not being entirely sure at the time where it was headed happened to be ok with me. Before long, Facebook was a part of my daily existence, I enjoyed posting all of the photos of fun and vacations I was having. I was sure they were entertaining, and my friends and family would enjoy them as well.

 

I guess at some point I realized that I was only sharing a percentage of my life. While I’m a big believer in not airing dirty laundry, I also realized that this skewed the perception of my life others may have. I was still ok with this, carry on. For the most part, I think of Facebook as a constructive device. It’s great to keep in touch with distant friends and family, to be able to see pictures of their kids, and feel a part of their lives. But realize, we are still only getting a glimpse of their actual world, good or bad. It wasn’t until I personally went through a divorce and financial turmoil, that I saw how destructive social media can be. Having things said about me without my permission caused me to recoil in a big way. I was bound and determined to only show what I saw fit, and non-personal, except of course when I was doing something awesome and wanted everyone to know. Believe me I’m not proud of that behavior. And Facebook also came in handy if I ever needed to stalk someone, or get the dirt on them, especially once I entered the dating world. Shame on me. I was the cause of my own mind screws.

 

Last summer I quit Facebook for a few months because I was going through a breakup. I learned that it’s really hard to move on when I could see everything that he was doing, including when he had been online. This gave me insight into his activities. And, I found it particularly painful when he started dating someone else, and advertising their budding romance, maybe even for my benefit, or so I was convinced. I resented the idea of him knowing what I was up to when he no longer chose to be part of my life. Simultaneously, I had a few friends that felt being a part of my life meant reading my posts, but not feeling any real obligation to keep in touch with me, and I got tired of the pretense of it all. So I quit! Deactivated my account. I was off for over two months, and when I finally did get back on, I unfollowed that bad ex boyfriend, because unfriending is like declaring war, and I activated the highest security settings. I also declared that I wouldn’t be active or post anything, but peruse only sometimes, and I didn’t even have the app on my phone for a long time. I finally caved in and downloaded it, and it honestly took me a long time to reintegrate it back into my daily existence. But here I am now, almost a year later, and I’m feeling that familiar feeling again, I hate what it stands for, and what it brings out in me. I don’t wish to banish it from my life completely, but feel more in control of my boredom and habits. My latest plan is to take the app off my phone again, in a feeble attempt for balance and moderation. For all of the bad Facebook stands for in my mind, there’s a tiny bit of good, like methadone for a heroin addict! That’s just me though, always looking at the bright side!;)

Sex and the Single Lady

Sex and the Single Lady

Maybe a more accurate title would be: “The Lack of Sex and the Single Lady.” I used to watch Sex and the City back in the day, I was married and could never quite understand what all of the fuss was about. Why were these women so preoccupied by their own hormones and vaginas? Now that I am a single girl, I understand perfectly! When you’re married, you can have all of the sex you want, which means  that you don’t want to have any sex at all. But when you’re single, you never know when you might have sex again, so it’s a constant preoccupation! ” When will I have sex again? I am dying on the vine here! Who will I have sex with?!!” I really should re watch the series so that I can really appreciate all that I’ve learned as a single, independent woman.
That’s right, these days I have far less sex than I ever have in my life, and I think that a common misconception is that single people have tons of sex with lots of different people, right? Wrong! Single people are free, uninhibited and morally loose? Nope, in fact, I may have sex ONCE every month, two or three. Usually, with recycled ex boyfriends and lovers that come back around for a single purpose, which undoubtedly reminds me every time why they exist only in my past, and why I should keep them there! But for us single gals, we don’t like to increase our “number” for just anyone, so recycling helps us to feel not so bad about the choices we are making for our lives. It’s a little lie I tell myself, but it works pretty well for me to justify my behavior.
Unfortunately, I may also be growing up a little. This is both good and bad for my poor vagina. While I am at the very pinnacle of my sexual evolution, I am also becoming pickier about whom I allow in my life, and what experiences I am willing to have. I used to be all about having experiences, the more, the better.  Now, I’ve realized there are really only certain experiences worth having anymore. I don’t have the pain tolerance that I once did. I endeavor to hurt myself less! So, needless to say, my little kitty cat doesn’t get to purr very often! This is both painfully annoying of my subconscious/ conscious evolution to deny me that which I crave most physically, human connection, and awesomely  perfect that I am taking my power back and picking up all those shattered little fragments of my soul that have been dispersed everywhere, and creating a more whole me. I wrestle with the dilemma of desire and self indulgence. I find that rarely, giving in to desire for the sake of self indulgence, does it work out well for me. I can’t make a relationship what I want, and generally I know what the outcome will be with each person before I even go down that road, so why bother going down the road at all? Just to be self indulgent? Scratch an itch? It’s not worth the heartache of my critical self judgement, and the pain of telling myself “I told you so, why don’t you listen?” For me, casual sex really isn’t that satisfying for these reasons.
So, I guess until I meet someone that might possibly be on the same path, or just maybe might wind up at the same destination eventually, there is no point in putting myself through it. If I truly want to love myself, and I do, then I need to create opportunities to prove to myself that I hold myself a little higher, the opportunity to use my  moral compass from my deepest sense of knowing. To say “NO!” to the things my ego craves because I want better for myself is truly an irritating dichotomy and a paradoxical shift for my psyche. This self awareness shit is killing me, and my sex life!