Monstrosity&Romance

a-monster-calls-3.jpg“My heart is good, but still I am a monster,” said the beast. “Among mankind,” says Beauty, “there are many that deserve that name more than you, and I prefer you, just as you are, to those, who, under a human form, hide a treacherous, corrupt, and ungrateful heart.”

I spend a great deal of time thinking about the romance in monstrosity, and the monstrosity in romance. Madame de Beaumont wrote “Beauty and the Beast” in 1740. The close relationship between romance and monstrosity has been present in our modern culture for at least 277 years… at least! She was hardly the first writer to romanticize monstrosity, but is certainly one of the more recognized presently.

So what do I mean by monstrosity in romance and the romance in monstrosity? I’m talking the kind of lovers who eventually turn into our personal monsters; love that turns (us) into monsters; situations that cause us to view love as monstrous ‘otherness’.

I have a problem with romanticizing monstrosity for 277 years, because I’ve been addicted to it my whole dating life without ever knowing. I’ve been in love with the duality of monsters for as long as I can remember. They are villains to some, and heroes to others…but they had depth. Loving them took a little work, and it was always worth it in the end of the story. I could identify with that… as a kid, I always felt maybe a little too grown for my peers and as an adult maybe a little to empathetic and emotional for the masses.. and just maybe loving me takes a little extra work.

The complexity of the monster always resonated with me though. Whether that means I identified with them or loved their multi-faceted characters… and I’m finding that maybe it’s not the most conventional love, but it’s mine and mine alone…

My modern monster is just affectionate enough for me to stick around but indifferent enough to never commit and provide me any sort of security in our ties. And who knows, maybe his monster is a neurotic know-it-all who is a little too intense and a little too emotional for him at times… But I do know the world could be ten Prince Charmings for every one Beast, and I’d find the Beast every time. I’d love him for his imperfections and his shortcomings. I’d love him because he’s mine and mine alone. And I’d love him because unlike most people I encounter, I find his imperfections beautiful and that they compliment my own…

To Be Continued,

B&B

**For anyone who hasn’t read the original version of the “Beauty and the Beast“, feel free to click on the hyperlink and take a read (it’s a quick read, I promise).**

ThisIsNotALoveLetter

I’ve been haunted by a ghost every night since you left.

He shows up only when my thoughts have quieted.

He looks like possibility, and sounds just like you.

You were inconsistent, and especially dismissive.

I found your polo shirts annoying, and your attachment to your “boys” unappealing.

You took up all of the space in the room with your obnoxious laugh.

That laugh…

it’s taken-up permanent residence in my mind and haunts me in the in my moments of quiet.

To drown it out, I think about how the sun touches down on the earth, kissing her daily

…and how warm that unfailing embrace must feel.

I wonder if the earth misses the sun in the dark of winter as much as I miss your obnoxious laugh in the silence of night.

Love letters from a fembot

You took my compliment as an insult, and for that I must explain: when I say I love you the way I love the women in my life, it’s the highest compliment I can offer.

I know these women.
I know their hearts.

Telling you I love you the way I love my women, it says

I know you.
I know your heart.

The men in my life come and go. Though I hold their friendships dear, the ties always tend to fade.

The women, they’re for life.

Pick any one of them, and I can honestly say there will never be another her.

Just as there will now never be another you.

I tell you I love you the way I love the women in my life, because it’s honest and because it’s true.

SoHotHeWontNoticeMyCrazy

Am I right!?!

How many of us have thought “I just need to lose____lbs”, “I just need to be in better shape”, or “I just need my long luscious locks back”….”and that’ll show him! I’ll be too hot for HIM!” 

I’m guilty of this, and I know many others are too. Let’s work on this, guys and gals. Let’s collectively work on valuing our journey enough to not invalidate our present. You are who you are right now. Nothing superficial has changed who you are underneath all the bullshit. 

So what if I’ve been in better shape and my hair is in a weird transition phase -I’m the same catch I was last year and the year before. I’m still the same sassy mouthed, moody queen who loves fiercely. Chances are, whoever I’d want to “teach a lesson”…things were not that great anyway. Superficial relationships never are.

It’s great to joke about the quirky things we all do (and I genuinely am someone who has thought the above…in the last month!). But I think the most dangerous thing about having this mentality is that we constantly say to ourselves “you’re not good enough…yet!” So, we’re not only putting ourselves down, but we’re seeking out this fictional version of ourselves that we’ll finally be happy with. We’ll feel better about where we’re at in life when they’re pining after us.

 This is a sort of fucked up concept, guys. One that extends beyond the romantic. I’ve got a yogi bestie who thinks she’ll get more people in her classes if she looks better in her Instagram photos. What does her leg cellulite have to do with her ability to teach yoga? Not a fucking thing. What does my weird hair phase have to do with my ability to love? Not a fucking thing.

 Let’s all do better, ladies and gents. Remind yourselves and your friends that we are all perfectly fine in the present. Own your path. We may be flawed, but we’re constantly redefining our perfectly flawed mold. 

We need the support of the collective to break this bad habit. 

To be continued, 

B&B 

Grace I

It’s funny how my memories of you can spill onto a piece of paper in a series of letters; foreign to the unlearned, yet just as beautiful.

But I scrawl them out on whatever sits in front of me, as if hesitating for one more second would erase you from my mind.
The shape of your bones drip with blue ink on a crumpled up newspaper that I’ve been meaning to throw away for weeks.

The curve of your smile and the softness in your eyes engraved in the floor at the bottom of the staircase after I lost the strength to climb them. Or maybe I lost the will to climb to an empty room.

I can see the curls of your hair dancing off your shoulders as you tiptoe across the room staining the couch with your favorite color of nail polish.

Your pale white skin and the constellations of freckles on your stomach defaces every mirror I’ve looked into because I’d rather see that than see the hallow eyes and sunken cheeks pretending to be me.

And there, chiseled into the mantle where the dust surrounded old picture frames, is the makeshift novel of how your sharp breaths pierce my ear when I plant my lips on your collar bone.

I can see your nimble hands unperched from your hips as they reach out for mine scribbled across the doorway from the day I thought I could leave, but just kept waiting for you to follow.

It’s funny how all of these memories of you can spill out and be just as beautiful.

Book Club Part One: Fluid


And guess what…she LOVED it.

“FLUID is a gritty interactive novel that explores the nature of free will, through both the large story of a cosmic battle between good and evil, and the small story of two teenagers yearning for connection in a greedy, manipulative world.”

Have you ever read a book and forgotten that it’s not real life and you don’t actually know the characters? …you’re basically Gilmore Girl level acquainted with the characters, and you’re rooting for them/with them?

That’s how “fluid” was for me, and like all things I’m obsessed with…I share it with the masses! I’m not going to go into too much detail, because the author does a much better job at summarizing it than I ever could.

It’s an adult interactive book, so check it out on a digital platform (iBooks, nook, etc.) I also highly recommend you head over to his website. You can get more information about it there.

I have read it three times and I’m consistently in love with the content in this book… It’s a must-read!

Oh, and just as a fantastic side note: you can stalk the author on Instagram (I already do, regularly): @TravisSentell -not only is he a phenomenal writer, but he takes beautiful photos of his travels! Oh, and he’s a total silver fox with gorgeous blue eyes…so there’s that. 😉

To Be Continued.

B&B

Why Millennial Men Find Women Like Me Confusing

This actually made me laugh, because I give this friend shit constantly.

But to further explain the likely cause of his and most men’s confusion with women: he’s a millennial who enjoys casual dating. Not promiscuity, but actual dating. He’s definitely a gentleman (and is generally very wonderful) but he actually dates around for fun. Are there any women out there who enjoy that? ….Homies, that might be why you don’t understand women: most of us actually hate casual dating.

Let’s discuss casual dating in situations I’ve been in: we talk a lot, we like each other, we either have sex or just “fool around”, we do things together, we never get too “couple-y”,  I’m treated like I’m just “one of the boys”, and I always feel on edge and like I can’t relax. *There’s definitely ZERO type of commitment that provides any sense of security.

Now, I  can’t speak for all women, I can only speak for myself but casual dating has been nothing but bullshit for me.

As a result of being the anti-casual chick, I friend-zone all men who I know have no intention of actually dating me. I want love… the real kind. Not the romance that fades shortly after it begins, but the boring kind of love. The kind that provides comfort..the kind of comfort that makes a person feel at home with their counterpart. I like having a partner. I have no shame in that.

I’ve voiced this in the past to men I’ve “seen” and to friends, and it’s generally unacceptable for millennials to want a commitment. Men have genuinely been confused in the past when I refuse to take anything further and kick them out of my life, because they’re just not in a place where a relationship is feasible.

Well, gents of 2016, not all of us want a fuck or makeout buddy. Sorry that you all tend to find us confusing because of that.

Sincerely,

IncrediblySingleAndSlightlyAnnoyed

B&B

The Girl With The Lower Back Tattoo Is Changing The Game

amy-schumer-vogue-july-2016-01

Game changer Amy Schumer was picked to be the cover of Vogue recently, and her interview is so atypical Vogue that it’s basically giving me life. I love Amy; she has been my dream bestie since the first time I saw her stand-up. I love any woman who celebrates her truth. I relate so heavily to not only her journey, but to her comedy. I believe in talking about the uncomfortable stuff that people need to hear about.

“I wouldn’t know what motivates Tina Fey and Julia Louis-Dreyfus,” says Schumer when I bring this up. “This insatiable drive. I have it too. Sometimes I feel like they’re hustling, they want something, and they’re not going to stop until they get it, and they play the game. I am very into making up my own rules. Like, I don’t want to play the game and succeed at it. I want to redefine it. That’s the only way I can deal with it. Maybe that’s naive. ”   -What a great way to utilize comedic talent!

Her interview with Vogue really is game-changing. She talks about the era of the mean girl being over, and that people are becoming more honest and not accepting of meanness, she discusses her journey with her dad and how being comedic was a defense against difficulty through her childhood. And what we can all probably relate to, she talks about how confusing sex is when you’re young and how her perception of beauty warped her sense of self when she was young. I am in love with alllll of that. In true Amy fashion, it’s honest and hilarious.
Click Here to read the whole interview.

Enjoy, Friends! I loved this interview.

 

To be continued,

B&B

Erica III: End

I made a list of all the words I should have said to you.
They turned into a book; the kind of book that you can read over and over, and still learn something new.
But there was a certain way the words looked to me every night.
They spelled out something sinister, and somehow never looked quite right.
They would stare me in the face and mock me for not understanding them.
And as soon as I’d start to figure it out, they would mix themselves up again.
The story never changes though.
It’s always the story of me and you, and all the things we’d never make it through.
And I guess somehow, before I even wrote it, I always knew.
I’ve memorized the lines but can’t quite figure out what to do.
When my arms reach out, grabbing nothing but air as if the emptiness is trying to give me a clue.
When I stop breathing to try and hear your heartbeat just once more, until my body starts to turn blue.
My God, what am I supposed to do when my sheets no longer smell like you?

For Her, Forgotten

She quietly died in a room where no one had bothered to change the calendar in for five years.
It was a decision she had made a few months before but never found the courage to go through with. That was largely in part of her never being alone.

Before then, I had left her side only once. It was something I deeply regretted but learned to forget over time.

I knew how much it hurt, but she said, “The heart heals because it’s made to take chances.” That never made me feel better, but it did give me a reason to breathe.

But by and by, the air grew thin until we found ourselves struggling to find enough for the both of us again. Or maybe she was just choosing not to take her share.

Fearing suffocation, or perhaps embracing the outcome more than she thought possible, she secluded herself to a small box to keep her safe from me. Or so I thought.

As the days passed, I couldn’t bear the stinging absence of her lips on mine. I couldn’t stand the sight of her not standing next to me, or the feeling of my fingers being able to touch in the void that her’s once filled.

So I found her there, her heart not quite healed but unable to break ever again.

Her lifeless lips with no intention to ever touch mine; her limp body with no means of standing next to me; her fingers unable to place themselves in the void they once filled.

She quietly died in a room where no one had even bothered to change the calendar in for five years.