risingleomoon

[risingleomoon]

Let's Talk About What Happened at The Selfie Room

While my time there may have been short, working at The Selfie Room was its own saga in my life. I'm not writing this now in reflection, I understand exactly what the purpose of this position was. It's when I think back to everything surrounding that purpose that made me decide to go public. So here it is, my six week training on "get what you came for and get back out."

The Selfie Room sits quietly on the corner of 14th and Washington, an eleven minute walk from my loft. It was meant to be part-time, a fun gig around Starbucks. I was still living in Imperial when I was hired and had every intention of staying put. My life was on track. Finally. From the moment I interviewed with him, I understood Levi (my new boss) would be someone elevated to the high rank of "partner" before long. I only wish I'd had a clearer view of the "how". Three days of training proved both my intuition and the cards correct: this man went to bat for me, days after meeting me. He ensured I was approved for my loft after the Super Secret Starbucks Separation and he was the first person I shared the news with when I was approved. The day after I signed my lease, I went to work full-time for The Selfie Room, making Levi and I pretty much inseparable for several weeks. We laughed, we played, we cleaned the balls together. Life was good. Until it wasn't.

After the owner returned for the flip (closing the studio to set up the new themes for a season), there was obvious tension. It wasn't my business to know why Christa was walking around like her dog just died (I was told later it was because her husband caught her cheating) but the owner decided "therapist" was in my new job description. Just us girls, I got the skinny on how much she disliked her co-owner, Erika and how The Selfie Room in Miami was failing (spoiler: it later closed). I heard about how her husband is Erika's brother and only supports her, not Christa; his wife. Truthfully, I was stunned into silence. I mean, I've had bosses get close to me and tell me personal stuff but not like this. Most certainly not the second time I ever saw them. My guess is she hoped to build a rapport so I listened. Within days, the flip was over and she was back to Florida (presumably to save the failing Miami studio). At this point, I'm finishing my training. It had been sporadic due to my moving and the flip. I had almost earned my key but was still missing a few lights. That, and Levi and I genuinely enjoyed working together. We also had a third employee, Mon. Mon, like Levi, was first seen as a non-threat. A flamboyant gay man I enjoyed cracking jokes with during the flip but we had never actually worked a shift together. We worked exactly one and it would be the second to last shift any of us would work there again.

(Please note: much of the following is taken directly from my official report)

The day I worked alone with Mon, I arrived at about 2:25 and opened the studio. When Mon came at just after 2:30, he proceeded to sit down and start eating, ignoring me completely. I asked him to check the lights as it was my first day opening alone. He looked up and said "looks good", proceeding to eat. I went about opening, logging in and such. Around 3 pm, Mon was still eating so I unlocked and opened the door. I then asked him to work on some content for our social media. I attempted to show him the Google calendar outline per Christa's plan to which I was told by Mon "Look, I had to train everybody. Levi don't know. Christa don't know" and ignored me showing him the preferred rooms outlined. He finished eating around 3:15 and informed me that he was leaving to pass out Snake Day fliers. I was alone until around 4:15 when he came back. When he returned, he decided we would close the studio to take a smoke break. I disagreed and remained in front of the studio while he went around to the alley/parking lot on the other side and lit a Marijuana joint the size of a human finger. I proceeded to smoke my cigarette while he smoked half of his joint. During this time I was informed that he "always does this, Christa don't care" and that he had to "train Levi, cause Levi don't know" (I am unaware what he meant by repeatedly saying this about Levi). He was also telling me about how people are all "stupid, hypochondriacs" and describing his medical issues in great detail, saying he doesn't have Monkey Pox. I am again unsure of why he would say these things. It's clear to me by this point that Mon is a wannabe street thug who is very likely going to find himself unalived by someone he has deeply offended. That someone is not me, but I'd defend them in court. I get it. This kid is … But I digress.

When we reentered the studio, I again asked him about creating content as well as passing the message that Levi instructed him to make the days calls. Mon sat on the front bench and watched TikTok, telling me he was "looking for sounds". I then decided to drop off my own Snake Day fliers around places I have spoken to. I was gone all of 10 minutes, leaving him still on the front bench and explaining what I was doing; specifically saying "stay here and get your sounds, when I get back you can go film". When I returned, the front door was still open and Mon was filming in the back of the studio. The iPad was on the counter. Right there. Screaming "please steal me!". He proceeded to film 2 stories for the studio for until around 6:30 when he then sat and began watching himself until beginning to clean before close at 7:30. During this entire time we had a call about an online booking where the website was changing the prices. I asked Mon for help multiple times and was ignored untilI called Levi. It was after that incident that we again went out for a smoke break where Mon finished the large Marijuana joint he had brought. At no point did I feel supported as a co-worker and at no point did he act in a professional manner. During our one walk in, he took their information for the booking and then just sent them in with no run down. I ended up filing a report with Levi and the owners. I was concerned for the business and wished to advise that I am not comfortable working alone with Mon as he does not value the safety of the studio or of others. Fast forward to the next day, when we are all due in together.

September 10th, 2022 will not be forgotten quickly. I arrived at The Selfie Room at about 2:25 for my 2:30 shift. I performed opening duties alone. Levi arrived shortly after I'd finished and informed me we would be having a meeting when Mon arrived at 4. At 3:17 I left to return home and retrieve a package from my lobby. I returned to The Selfie Room at 3:37. Mon arrived at 4:09. I specifically noted the times on my Fitbit Versa because I was also conversing with my 11 year old daughter via text and her messages came up on my wrist unit. When he arrived, he called out to me and I stepped outside where he offered me a joint. I refused. Levi was sitting at the red table beside the window, facing out of the front door, which was open when this occurred. Mon then came in, logged me out of Peak and proceeded to override the music we had set. In short, he acted like he was in charge. At 4:17 Levi motioned for the camera activation and began our meeting. We discussed that no one leaves without consent from Levi, smoke breaks are not to be taken together and that social media posts can take no longer than 20 minutes to make. Levi then informed us that he would be leaving for the day. Before he left he told Mon that I would be running bookings and he, Mon, would be making calls. There was a confrontation which I recorded in two clips. Mon was aggressive in his attitude with Levi which prompted ne to begin recording. When Levi finally did leave, I informed him of Mon having offered me a joint when he arrived and I was told the police would be informed. When I returned to The studio, Mon was on the phone with Christa (remember Christa?) I did not hear detail. As I waited further information or instruction, Mon continued sitting at the desk. He called a few people and took one walk in, which he did not run down. During this time he also made one booking, 2 adults, and billed them as students. The police arrived between 5:30 and 6pm at which point I no longer observed the time.

In a span of four hours, Mon had blown the place up. I was terrified and not feeling particularly reassured. I'm avoiding being in the studio, or sitting as near to the door as possible because this man is clearly off his chain. I've got a little girl at home, no way is this place where I die.

Levi arrived with two police officers and told Mon he was terminated. I stood and moved to block the opening to the back of the studio as we had two customers back there at the time. Mon began screaming about discrimination and that I needed to be fired for "taking 5 cigarette breaks out front" as well as calling both Levi and myself various slurs. Mon then called Christa and I asked if I could check on our customers, which I was told to do. As I walked to the back I heard Mon telling someone (I did not know he was still on the phone with Christa and could no longer see our front area) that Levi was a (very nasty thing I will not repeat here). I immediately rushed to the customers to ensure they did not hear any more. There was more yelling and loud stomping as Mon was finally escorted out of the building. I returned to The front where I witnessed Mon continuing to tell all of Washington Ave that Levi is a known (same thing, still not saying it). I then observed Levi on the phone with Christa. He was walking her through what he was watching. His face changed from his usual all business to horrified as she asked if there was any truth to Mon's claims.

After Mon left, Levi continued to discuss the incident with Christa on the phone, clearly getting more and more upset with her. I'll be honest, I kinda checked out at that point. This all went so far beyond my scale of understanding. I was caught somewhere between freeze and fight. Instinct telling me "don't get ded" while my soul was screaming to knock this fucker out with a Selfie stick if he dared come back. We waited. At closing, we made no hesitation and took off. Levi drove me the few blocks home, just in case. As to what we'd do now? We weren't entirely sure about that either. At not one point did either of the owners call us. No one checked in. No one let us know what was happening with Mon and the police. We were due into the studio the next day and no comment from the peanut gallery down in Miami.

I was willing to put fear aside for this job I loved with my new bestie as my boss. Money aside, I'd never again have an opportunity to ever truly be me in a work environment after this. To work with a real partner and enjoy my place. I knew that. I also know to listen to what lives beyond the fear. Fear exists to protect us. When you listen to it, when you find the root, you can break down the fear until it's manageable. I do this instinctively, otherwise I'd run from everything and anything. I also never quit out of fear. It's a die hard and steadfast rule. So is sticking to my values and doing the right thing.

When Mon threw his baseless accusations at Levi, we could have battled them. Unfounded, slander, and libel. An easy win in any court. Over, done with, tout finis. But when Levi was on the phone with Christa after Mon finally left, she had the audacity to ask if it were true, to suggest that even one iota were fact; when Christa dared turn defensive on her own behalf instead of supporting her general manager, it was over. This disgusting excuse for a human being expected that we would just waltz back in, la de da, and go back to work for a meager paycheck. After that? I can only presume some people have their idiot switch on at all times. Furthermore, neither Christa nor Erika reached out to me until after Levi filed his resignation. Fortunately, I'd already been made aware as Levi and I stayed in constant communication. At which point, these homegirls actually thought I was going to solo their whole operation. Both started calling to check on my "mental wellbeing". I basically called them both stupid and told them I was not taking over the entire studio while they continued their losing battle to keep Miami open. Like I said, idiot switch. Instead, I agreed to close the studio "temporarily" and re-evaluate over the weekend. I didn't really need that time. The decision was made. The time they gave me only served to validate my reasons. What Christa did and said to Levi was so very wrong. I can understand exactly why he would refuse to remain employed by such people. Clearly these were not business owners who were going to support us in any capacity. Someone had to stand by Levi. It should have been all of us but Marsha Linehan has taught me that there are no shoulds. It wasn't going to be all of us. It was going to be none of us if it wasn't me.

In the end, Christa decided to return to St. Louis and Levi and I walked in together to return store property. She had the balls to ask me if I was resigning and why. Why? Really? I told her it was because she even had to ask why. I never saw her again and I don't want to. This remains one of the only times when a situation was not presented to "teach' me something. This job was a gift from the universe and inside its odd packaging was a partner in life and friendship forever. I was approved for my loft because of Levi, I moved Downtown and began an entirely new adventure because this one job gave me a person who accepted me. Working alone in the studio was not what I moved here for. Being the lion my dad raised me to be is. I resigned because I was called to right a terrible wrong. I am also called to understand that I may never be allowed to correct many of my own misdeeds, but perhaps through action like this, I can still find retribution and earn the friendship of more amazing humans like Levi. I'm obviously no longer at The Selfie Room. I no longer care who knows why. Someone has to talk, to tell. It may as well be me.

[risingleomoon]

April 30, 2021

Dear Reader,

Everyone has a different version of the truth. This is mine.

Word Crimes

I did not choose a word for 2021. My word for 2020 started out as "Discipline"; which I now find to be utterly Ironic. Eventually my word for 2020 was erased entirely and I suddenly shared my Word of the Year with every other human on our planet: Pandemic. Such a strange, ugly word that we have now shared for an entire year.

When 2021 arrived, I'm not ashamed to admit that I was too afraid to choose a word and trust it. I almost chose "healing" or "hope" but decided I'd be safer if I held off. I told myself that I didn't need to choose a word this year. Just in case no one had any designs to Heal the World. I'd wait and see what was being offered first. After all, the world is a mess and there are no words left to describe my new state of living. I don't even trust myself anymore. It was The End of The World (as we know it) but I did not feel fine.

Now the first quarter of 2021 has passed and I've taken another hard Reflection at the songs around me and how I can use their words to best tell the whole story, all sides. A story that begins with a Secret and whose ending is as yet Unwritten. A story of truth forgotten, of lies exposed and of what happens when one forgets herself.

My story. My words. My verity.

***

The First Word:

Watershed

Have you ever had A Moment Like This: A real Moment of Truth where you stared hard at your crossroads and knew, instinctively that no matter what you chose, Everything Has Changed? They're called "Watershed Moments" and most people don't know about them until well after the fact. Some say it's a case of "lessons learned" or the growth of Wisdom, Justice and Love. Even rarer are we who can stand before a Watershed Moment and call it by its name. I'm big on names. They mean things. They matter. October 22nd 2019 was a Watershed Moment that I dared to come to pass. I looked it in the eye as I heard his full name and knew, I Have Been Changed For Good.

JLM was the first man I ever chose without any safety net at all. Quite literally, Nothing Else Mattered. I allowed every change that came with a life altering event. Even if no one but me knew it was life altering. I kept it secret. I kept it safe. He came in like a windstorm; churning up old dust and whipping leaves of futures past in my face. "You Remind Me of Someone I Have Not Met" I told him. Always a prophetess, I am. That would be the biggest truth of them all. He shared his name, birthdate and Family Portrait with the most powerful and important men in my life. I let myself fall in love with Serendipity and Happenstance.

What is six months in the correlation of time? It's a second, a blip even. When you look at the Five Hundred, Twenty Five Thousand, Six Hundred Minutes the average human measures their year with, six months is nothing in the way of time. Yet an entire lifetime for me was Hanging By A Moment. "Hold me closer Tiny Dancer" he'd sing, so very like my dad all those years ago. I would have married my music man. For five of our six, we were the very essence of life itself. As the holidays came and went, we attended events and family gatherings. A rising power couple and Didn't They Almost Have it All. Best of all, it was a true love match. Suddenly I was Goldilocks and I found everything to fit just right. Queen Midas. Until the music stopped.

The Second Word:

Silence

I read once that even the birds will stop singing during the Calm Before the Storm. They tuck themselves safely and silently into their nests, hoping to ride out whatever is to come. I often wish I had the senses of a Flightless Bird. Then I would have recognized the silence around me for the danger it was.

While we now accept 2020 as the Year Lost 'Round the World, it didn't start out with such an easy acceptance. March 17th, 2020, Lilyana went to school for the last day of in-school learning of her 3rd grade year. It was also the day I had the first of my Two Pina Coladas and I was well on my way to Margaritaville. March 20th, the country announced we were in an official Pandemic. I bought two more bottles and created my "Pandemic at the Disco" playlist (Since deleted. Trust me, you don't want to know…)

I was a Lost Boy from Neverland now to everyone, but barely anyone knew it. Suddenly everything else mattered. I couldn't even scream; "I Think I Need Help". JLM's concern grew as my manic depression increased. When he realized he couldn't save me, we began fighting. A foreign concept to us. We never fought. Finally, the 21 Guns were brought in. On March 30th, I took my first shakey steps into a new Sober, holding the hand of the one who has always been there, since he found me among The Fray. By then it was too late. I was saved but the relationship with the man I'd come to see as my NotHusband had been destroyed by my Descent Into the Depths. I'd come out of my inebriated state but stepped into a deafening silence.

When the world fell into a Schism as Covid-19 took us hostage; true-to-form, I filled that silence with the loudest, most exuberant demolition of my life that I could come up with. And Nothing Else Matters was destroyed by my Wrecking Ball. Why couldn't I have stopped to listen to The Sound of Silence instead of filling it with my own needless noise. The simple answer is that I am big and loud. I do everything big and loud. When I am happy, this is usually a non-issue. Sadness, anger and (even worse) frustration can make that big and loud a bit problematic. Nine times out of ten, I have a security structure in place. A team of individuals who know the warning signs, who are close enough to control and contain my big and loud. A pandemic is a game changer in so many ways. I still had that team, held that support but now I was also standing on my own. Quite possibly for the first time in my life. I Fell from the Wall.

Yes, I'd been left decimated by all that had happened in the time from March 17th to April 20th of 2020. I may or may not have been of dual minds at that time. I wasn't exactly Broken, Just Bent. On one hand, I was desperately seeking to repair the damage I'd done with JLM. On the other, I felt that I needed a temporary replacement. Just someone to fill the void for a minute. Until JLM came to his senses.

The Third Word:

Rebound

JCB was the perfect candidate. He met all my physical requirements (and then some), a Smooth Operator who blew my mind with his wit and intellect. Living just minutes apart, I love having a boyfriend practically Out My Back Door, he would be the best choice for an easy rebound. It wasn't supposed to last long. He was chosen for ease and convenience and I absolutely never intended to become his DogMom. Today's Disturbia stems directly from that fact. I didn't mean to do what I did, even as I strategically placed my Men on the Chessboard. Intent and roads paved to hell. Hell hath no and all that. I wasn't exactly a woman scorned but the world would still face my fury.

Ahh, but Love is Strange. In the early days, I shared only what I was obligated to share. I bent the truth and utilized all accessible loopholes to ensure that we are never going to have that Two Become One thing happening. From the moment we met, we decided on Once. Only Once. There was no need to become too close after all. He's just a Temporary One. Let me assure, I make no attempt at justification. I aim only to explain the facts as I know them. Perhaps it was wrong to utilize a human bookmark. Perhaps it was that Someone who Saved My Life Tonight. Perhaps it set in motion all that was to come. Either way, Things Happen and there's no going back.

We were happy. Genuinely. This rebound man and I. From 'The Once' to Once Upon A Dream, we enjoyed each other fully. So what's wrong then?

Everything.

The Last Word:

Verity

As of this writing I am being given the silent treatment/ghosted by my partner of over a year. I wish I could say this was the first time. It's not even the First Time in Forever. JCB has turned out to be quite the narcissistic personality. While he has offered up a wonderful case study over this past year, I am now struggling with The Climb. What started as character flaws I could easily overlook (after all, he was supposed to be temporary), have now become Toxic and must be expunged. Because now, I Feel Everything.

The problem with the truth is that others don't want you to tell it. They'll do whatever it takes to make you stop speaking. Some put their hands right over your mouth. Others slowly replace your voice with theirs. Sometimes, it might take awhile to notice. I've noticed. Now it's your turn to Hear My Voice.

The chronicle of abuse I've mislabeled as being my own fault will not be reported here. My truth is not in the details of horror and fear. My Truth About Love is in that I was as easily moved to co-dependent behavior this time as I was in the past. I allowed myself to settle into an old comfort zone simply because I was living in a Perfect Illusion. That it was an Illusion created by my own mind, notwithstanding. A wonderful psychological study, my JCB is. I might be an even better one.

Yet somehow, JCB is the only man I've ever chosen from day one to day now without any reason beyond "Because I Can". No matter what he has or hasn't done, he's never held me captive. Perhaps that's why I Find My Bliss in Ignorance. Perhaps that's why I allowed all I allowed. Perhaps that's even why I'll continue to allow it. I continue to choose.

Moving forward Into the Unknown, these are my truths:

The past is not the present & people are not temporary.

Gaslighting is real & pandemics suck.

Words Matter. Choose them wisely.

The music is playing again everyone. The Bitch is Back.

[risingleomoon]

October 27th, 2021

No feeling. It isn't allowed to be shown. If you can't control your face, don't wear it in public. You can have opinions. In your head. You can scream your pain, in silence. Close your eyes and fade away. Hope for the best when there's nothing left. We're broken, she and I. Stoic. You've mastered it. Not pressing of hurt. It doesn't matter anyway when no one remembers you're alive. The flies were prevalent this year, hovering over my body that refused to decay. Dolls don't decay. They rot from the inside out. My insides are rotten. Just go. You deserve better. I deserve the she that was me. Pele calls and I long to answer in a rage so sweet it coats the earth. My tears will raise the sea and drown those who caused them. I won't feel any better, I never do. But she won't feel anything at all and that's even better than nothing. My words are my blood. Flowing everywhere, staining your life. Unallowed to cry, I spill these words, in place of tears.

And one day, my words will become bullets. Piercing the heart of those who stole them before. Whispered quotations will become the blood wept by those who betrayed me. You will not pray for my mercy then. For your words will be stolen from your lips as you had once ripped them from my heart.

[risingleomoon]

Gearing up for Winterfest! ❄️

[risingleomoon]

Food Issues

TW: eating disorder, adult language, abuse

My ex-boyfriend liked to push his food at me."Try this!" He'd exclaimed; eyes rolled back from the delightful orgasm currently rocking his taste buds, his fork poised just close enough to not poke my eye out. "No thank you"; I'd tell him. No never means no. I'd then spend the next five minutes objecting to his culinary proposal before allowing him to jam his fork in my mouth once or twice before he's satisfied and I could go puke up whatever that even was. You'd think after two years together, he'd have realized that I don't appreciate being rape fed. Again, consent isn't something anyone considers when it comes to me and food. Or me, at all, really. But I digress.

I've been both force fed and denied food. I've lived for years where every bite was controlled by a domineering dinner dominatrix. As a fifteen year old child, I was diagnosed with both anorexia and bulimia; simultaneously. I worked out immediately after finishing a meal; or else discreetly yakked it back up in someone's unsuspecting commode. I was addicted to diet pills of any sort. My best friends in high school were appetite suppressants which my mother called "vitamins". Try as she might, nothing could not contain the woman's body that burst forth the year I turned 15. By the time I'd reached age seventeen, I was rocking the Judy Garland diet for three years, alongside the D cup I wanted desperately to vanish. What my mother didn't know was that I coupled her chemicals with my own and that's why I have very little memory of ever being a teenager. But, again, I digress.

Once I reached 18 and adulthood, I thought I'd finally have my shot at enjoying a meal. A rapid succession of boyfriends and husband's taught me otherwise. I learned early that when you eat on someone else's dime, you eat what they tell you. A prime example is that I have always loved onion rings. The delightful burst of sautéed onion mixed with grease and more grease was once one of my deepest delights. The catch? I don't like the texture of the onions. An ex of mine knew this little quirk of mine and ordered onion rings while I was using the restroom in one of my favorite restaurants. I knew the rule. Eat what's on your plate. I was expected to eat every last crumb; onions included. Why would I comply, you may be asking? That's a Tale of Trauma for another day. Just go with it. Suffice it to say there was no changing the order. It was eating it or suffering the consequences my creatively abusive ex would come up with. I was 24 and 14 at the same time. And I ate the onion rings. I also returned them to Trailhead by way of their toilet.

By the time I was 30, the trauma ran so deep that I usually chose to not eat with or around people. I learned to cover this with illusion and fabrication. To this day, no one has ever asked me if I had enough to eat. To make matters worse, I once went on a date and was told I could order whatever I wanted. I ordered the cheapest thing on the menu after asking no less than six times if it was okay to do so. I had lived privately on potato chips (any brand) and pizza (Totino's combination) and water. I countered my calorie intake with great purges from any orifice possible. By the time I landed in JeffCo, I'd become an adept cook. Despite not being able to eat anything I prepare, I have quite the recipe log. I once delighted my friends and family by playing happy homemaker with my endless supply of willingness to turn the kitchen into a chemist's lab. A combination of making do with less than stellar ingredients and not having a clue whatever tastes good together, I managed. Until I couldn't anymore. Because it started taking all night to make one dinner. I mathed it. Two hours to cook, 2 hours to be berated about how I cook. Another two hours on how I never clean anything properly, the ingredient interrogation, and whether or not I know how to use an oven/range. Two more hours to clean up, listen to how I don't know how to clean, re-clean, and then re-clean again. Lastly, another two hours to recover. Then there are the hours of complaint in between meals. I stopped cooking. I stopped using the microwave. I stopped eating food that was "noisy". Then, I just stopped eating while existing in my sister's house. By this time if my brain so much as smells food cooking in the house, nausea starts building. Eventually, everyone started commenting on my weight, taking the pre-existing trauma of body issues and combining them with the new trauma of being beaten down and broken. I laughed. I laughed and laughed. I struggled to eat more than a polite bite or two of my food. I still eat when I'm told to. Toward the end of my time there, Taco Bell was forced upon me and I felt I had no right to refuse. I didn't have that luxury. Because no doesn’t mean no for me.

I'm now 40 years old and I am finally starting to enjoy eating. I've left the toxic environment and people behind and started a new journey forward. I still eat like shit but it's now shit I choose. More importantly, I'm cooking again. I am finally able to see what all the huff and puff over these recipes has been about. And you know what? I enjoyed every bite!

[risingleomoon]

That Time I Almost Dated Aquaman

Originally published as Verity Charlotte ©️ 2021

“What’s happened, Vey-ity?”

I liked the he started or ended every sentence with my name. R can't seem to manage an "r" sound to save his sweet life. He called my by the name I chose. The first person to ever do so. Others say my DeadName. With R, I never felt unseen. Knowing it would be the last time I would hear him say my name like that, I breathed in deeply and lifted my finger from the button that would un-mute my mic.

“For someone who stands so tall for truth, I sure do spend a lot of time avoiding it. You see, the funny thing about the truth is that everybody wants it but nobody is happy when they get it. It’s one of those vicious circles. I have a deep rooted need to know the truth, but when I finally have it, I’ll stare at it until I’m dumb with denial. Yes, I can see the facts in front of me. I am smart enough to do the math. I will call it by its name as I simultaneously deny it exists. The truth is the truth as the sky is blue. Still I seek ways to untruth the truth I so desperately needed. An enigma wrapped in a well tailored conundrum. Unfortunately, I’m now in a position where the truth wins and I’ve got to hand it a goddamned trophy.”

I could hear him chuckle. I close my eyes and inhale as though I could breathe him in and keep him forever. I’d never heard anyone laugh with an accent before. I’d never known anyone quite like R at all before. We met on a random Shoot Your Shot Laura hosted one night. I’m still a little baffled at how quickly things happened. How did I get here from there?

To throw more blue sky ribbons of truth out there, I’d put myself on a tighter lockdown during the summer of 2021 than Covid did the year before. I outright hid from the world. By July, one person had access to me and we joined Clubhouse in an attempt to make me feel … something … again. Laura and Thorilla have hosted the Singles in the City Clubhouse events for what feels like an eternity. First, I found music on Clubhouse. Then, I found business. Once I found the business side I found Laura. Laura is heavy in the female entrepreneur life and she's also the Queen of Hearts as a professional dating coach. And she's damn good at her job.. Laura and I connected privately. I like her style; power in the feminine self. My own business was nonexistent and I wanted help from the best. After a while, I found myself invited to join in on a Shoot Your Shot practice round.

Single in the City has been around for some 15 years. Incidentally, I'd recently found myself single, just not in the city. And it was summer after all. I also felt pretty low about myself. I wanted a confidence boost that a bikini can't give. Laura saw that. She saw ME. We figured I'd keep my hand down and simply observe, learn from others as we went. "And besides, Effy's in there." Sure, I told her. Let's see how it works, maybe start connecting with real people again. The rules of Date Club are simple: open your Twitter or Instagram to the public, link it in your Clubhouse bio, then raise your hand (if you’re so inclined) and wait your turn to shoot your shot at dating some of the most beautiful, successful, wealthy and exciting singles in America.

Go big or go home, she says.

I want to be absolutely clear that I never once raised my hand to speak. I’m not 100% sure I spoke at all actually. I must've at least sputtered out a yes. Effy burst out laughing. I burst out laughing. Laura set this up, right? The entire encounter must have taken all of five minutes and it was entirely unorthodox to Shoot ones Shot at an unarmed newbie. It went something like this:

Me half listening, half scrolling Twitter and imagining how I’m going to ream Kitty for supporting this moronic idea when she gets back online. But whoever is speaking has a cute accent.

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“… magic eyes and a mischievous smile …” (with the accent it sounded more like “majeek eyes and a misschivus smile, I’m a sucker for a good voice, it’s the only thing they can’t lie about.)

I finally looked at who was speaking. A baby. Bet he's going straight for Effy, I smile to myself. That girls dance card is never empty.

“… she has bewitched me with her beauty” Nod, nod. This is a good one. He lives close to her in Cali, likes to surf. Profile click. There is no way in hell that man is 50 years old. Effy is 25.

“… I dig that she jives with plant care. I have an aloe myself …” Chuckle, Ef must've talked about her "plants" again. They're her babies. Polynesian and Iranian? He is not fifty!

“… dinner on the beach and set goals for the future …” Poor guy is in for it now. Effy's future plans are limited to who she's wearing to breakfast. He. Is. Not. FIFTY.

“… mermaid hair and won’t raise her hand…” Wait, what? Huh? I cursory glanced around the active room members. There are only seven women in this room right now. My heart thuds. My hand is the only one still down.

“… I’d like to shoot my shot with Vey-ity!”

Later I would laugh and tell him that it felt like being called down on the Price is Right. Laura, bless her heart, was trying to shut the whole thing down before he could say my name. Apparently I was the last to read the clues that Aquaman threw ashore. Thorilla was laughing his head off while Laura scrambled to remind everyone that we only practice our shots on people with raised hands. I laughed it off and Effy DM’d me on Insta that she’s been here awhile and has never spotted that one before. Good catch, she says. I caught fucking Aquaman, Effy. This is bad, very bad.

Naturally I didn’t land THE Aquaman. He was pretty die hard about Lisa Bonet at the time. As it should be. But R is a dead ringer (he is in fact 50, despite his youthful looks). And despite his ridiculously sexy accent and the fact that I was about to be swept up in the kind of life I’d only dreamed about, this was still very bad. Oh so bad. I had absolutely no business in a dating room. Though I considered myself single at the time, it was still wrong. Not as wrong as continuing the friendship all these months later, of course. It was easy enough to twist the truth as I told myself that there was no need to feel guilt. Nothing sexual had occurred beyond the time of the in-between, he'd seen nothing that hadn't been previously shared to Patreon. He’d remained a consistent sounding board. That’s all.

See, there's that "I see the truth but if I squint my eyes I can adjust the light and shadows so this will all still somehow work out for the best." September morphed into November and still it went on. I'll call it by its name: Emotional Affair. By the time balance was restored in other areas of my life, R and I had developed a flirtatious kinship. We realized pretty quickly that we had a lot in common. Native Californians with a zest for a more magickal and natural life. Oh yes, Aquaman and I got along swimmingly, as it were. In another life, I'd have hopped a plane and married him. In this life though, there’s just no way it could have lasted. Whatever status I chose, my heart belonged to someone else. Girls like me don’t get fairy tales like R. Some are just too good.

“What shall we have the trophy engraved with Vey-ity?”

“John Bruce", I told him. “Because at the end of every day, he’s the man you can’t beat. No one can. I can move to Cali tomorrow and the day after I'll be waking up longing for him. He’s the man that will always win. He’s earned the truth. I want to give it to him so we can finally grow together into what we are meant to be.”

“He doesn’t deserve you”

“You’re supposed to say that. I don’t deserve him.”

“Perhaps you deserve each other”.

This was not said maliciously. That’s not R’s style. He meant it. He meant it from the depths of his soul. Beautiful old soul that he is, R genuinely wished me well. He may be the first. I'll miss his voice and the way he said my name. But I will never long for him in my soul. I will never share with R the cord of fate that ties me to John Bruce. That tie can never be cut.

"Perhaps we do".

We only deserve the best, John Bruce and I. We deserve each other.

[risingleomoon]

A Return to Reading

Since realizing that I have not one but two libraries barely a stones throw from the Paul Brown Lofts, I've been taking some time to fall in love with books again. Oh, don't get me wrong, I never stopped reading! Once a Kindle was placed in my hands, I never stopped! But the truth is, I started reading exclusively ebooks and lost the passion for reading. Prior to moving, I had relied on old stand-by's like 'Survivor' (Tabitha King) or the Beautiful Creatures series. Anything I already knew because I had enough guessing going on in my real life. Toward the end, I devoured the Fear Street saga by R.L. Stine (which started a whole new rabbit hole of mental clarity) and was "in between books" at the time of my move.

Week one Downtown I stumbled upon the Central Library Annex; or as I call it the "little library". This pocket-sized land of books is no bigger than my entire loft x 2 and situated in Post Office Square. Other offices for FOCUS St. Louis and people like the Secretary of State plus a small gallery paying tribute to bald men in power share space with the newest and greatest tomes of knowledge and entertainment. That first day I was with Kiki. We tiptoed in through the revolving door, quietly past security and into an enormous atrium. It was there I smelled the paper. I followed my nose. The selection is small, as I prefaced. We were able to get our accounts all set up in minutes and walked out an hour later with the best credit limit I can receive from anyone: 100 books at a time. Each!

This initial visit yielded a powerful boon. I stumbled upon the phenomenal Tina Turner's newest title; "Happiness Becomes You". The dam broke. I read this book everywhere. At work, in the bath, lounging in bed on Sunday, over coffee and a Jay in the morning. Everywhere. It isn't a particularly long book and my nose only remained stuck for 3 or 4 days, but I absorbed so much more than words on pages. Everyone knows the Tina Turner story. That isn't what her new book covers. This book is different from "I, Tina". In "Happiness", Tina teaches us to look inward for the peace and balance we all seek so desperately. These were not new words to me, mind you. I've heard them before. Buddhist teaching crosses over my own Witchery pretty much regularly. When it doesn't it crosses over with my Jewish Mysticism and bounces off Scientific Theory quite nicely. I'm well rounded like that. I was also unsurprised that Tina "The Goddess" Turner was teaching Buddhism. After all, Angela Bassett basically just chanted her way through the second half of the movie. Maybe this time I was ready to listen.

My return to reading had less to do with enjoying books and more to do with getting my shit together. Circumstances aside, my one true soulmate has always been books. I outlined my grand plan for Bookstagram and reviews on Goodreads while registering my SLPL accounts. Nowhere in my plan did I specify enjoying it. As I'm sure you can tell, I never made it past the outline and brainstorm and managed to wrap up whatever had been lingering from JeffCo but failed to execute the new plan. I did post a few sporadic 'Grams. Still not ready to actually begin drafting (let alone publishing) my own content, I took this new creative passion to the back burner and returned for inspiration in books.

With the floodgates now wide open, I decided to go further. I'd finished my stack from "Pan's Labyrinth" to "The Essential Anthony Bourdain" and it was time to refill. I returned Julie Andrews and Greta Garbo along with Kiki's finished books and during week three we found SLPD's Central Library (or the "big library". I'm not clever and witty all the time, you know). This time I was prepared and took my shopping cart. Gathering a few comfort reads (Cassandra Clare. New Book. Not my fault.) led to "The School of Good and Evil". Shameless brag: by the time you read this I may or may not have met Soman Chainani. Day and night my world expanded again. I continued to read my Kindle exclusives and download my Amazon First Reads because one doesn't turn away from free books. Yet my heart has been in the turning of real pages.

I'm not sure how many weeks in we are now but I know I still haven't been to every section. From classics to science, a media center and kids wing with climbing chairs, I was mostly blown away by my ease and comfort inside. I never felt that way when visiting the Arnold Library in Jeffco. I was happy to collect any holds and leave. Eventually we stopped going altogether Now I'm becoming a local "Belle"

"I've come to return the book I borrowed! Got anything new?"

"Not since yesterday, Belle!"

I'm sure at some point I will unpack the psychology behind my stasis and frenetic return to reading. But for today, I'm going to enjoy another book.

[risingleomoon]

Kiki & I celebrated "Stranger Things day" on Sunday 🙃