The Trannies

When I think back on the various things that should have raised red-flags in the course of my relationship with Daniel a few instances come to mind.

There was the time when he told me that he didn't believe in a person having a soul. I obsessed over that comment for a good week and a half. How can you not believe in a persons soul? What, if not their soul, do you believe in? I have always been a pragmatic type of girl but when it comes to matters of the heart, soul, and conscience, I lose all sensibility. There is a certain something inside of us as human beings that keeps us ticking. There is a driving force, a sort of metronome of life if you will. It's there, all the time, and it is with that internal life force that you go about your daily existence in this world. This, my friends, is your soul. It drives you. It makes you who you are. We are not paper-doll-cutouts. We are living and breathing and it is our soul that carries us along! I am passionate about this - and when Daniel said that he didn't believe he really even had a soul, I felt a little sick inside. I bombarded him with philosophical questions and scenarios for the next 10 days or so until finally I was able to either convince him that believing in a soul is important - OR - he just said he could see my point of view to get me to shut the fuck up.

Then there was the time his Aunt, over dinner at the Time Warner Center, asked whether or not I cooked for him and he abruptly answered "No!" - Daniel is not the type of man who wants a woman at home slaving behind a hot stove in order to have a meal ready upon his arrival. Actually, I think that type of thing turns him off. God forbid a woman wants to take care of her man!! Amazing what having unavailable parents will do to a man. Anyway, I get that he doesn't necessarily look at that as a very admirable quality in a woman but society definitely does and I was mortified. The truth is that just that very week I had tried my hand at a bunch of different recipes. All were altered to befit the limited diet he has as a result various food allergies. It may sound stupid but I put a lot of love and care into doing the domestic type stuff and for it to be denied by him really hurt. I, somewhat immediately, jumped in and said "what do you mean, no?!" - We turned the situation into a joke but it was belittling.

Last, but certainly not least in the bullet-list of red-flag raising moments was the night we spent with the two Trannies in a dungeon basement in Brooklyn.

You can't make this shit up.

They were both of some sort of third-world Latin lineage. One was much more attractive than the other. She came in at around 5'10 inches tall with a decent body, small natural breasts as a result of her hormone therapy, and still packed a decent package. Somehow in the pretty small sized dungeon that sits underneath a widely popular venue in the Park Slope area, I had lost Daniel for all of a minute and a half. When I finally stumbled into a cubby-hole and found him, it was in their company.

Initially I was confused. I couldn't figure out how in the blink of an eye I had actually lost him. (funny, looks like I am asking myself that same question yet again in a completely different fashion) - The way that this place is set-up makes it nearly impossible to lose people. There are these small wooden booth like areas that are positioned in a mish-mashed labyrinth. One booth basically backs the next and each of these semi-private spaces has glory and peek holes with an approximate 3" diameter sitting on the bottom and top of the "walls". Some have small doors - and others just a framed out space where a door would otherwise serve a purpose. You know, that is if the whole purpose of being at this place wasn't to have others watch/join you.

There are a few larger spaces, namely in the back and front of the basement space. The front private space is marked with clear signage indicating it's Female and Transexual friendly only. Inside of this private space there is a sex swing and a few other fun items to make your stay more enjoyable. I found it to be a bit too butch heavy for my liking and didn't spend a lot of time in there. The large space in the back is where the real fun happens. There is a queen-ish sized bed that seems to always get a fair amount of play. It's anchored in the far left hand corner of the square room. In the immediate foreground to the bed is a fun cross that I, unfortunately, never got to experience. There are multiple flat screens playing various genre of porn strewn through out the space. In the far right hand corner of the same room sits a hanging sex swing that was ALWAYS occupied by some way too heavy dude that seemed to want to put the weight limitations of an anchored sex swing to the test. There are some suspended benches for sitting and viewing purposes, a private caged area that has an enclosed cross and spanking bench, and a dog cage for your every day, often overlooked, Fido fantasies. I have to give it up to the folks that run this event called SPAM; they really got it all covered from a "need" perspective. Strewn about the venue are condom dispensers, containers full of individually packaged servings of lube, handy wipes, and paper towels for easy clean-up. They even have small chocolatey goodness in the form of ho-hos! How apropos.

There are three reasons I like this event:

1) It's in Park Slope and doesn't require my taking the train into Manhattan just to take the train back into Brooklyn (read: Williamsburg or Bushwick). There are not enough progressive events, never mind progressive sex events, in Brooklyn. Also, I don't generally consider Williamsburg Brooklyn. Hipsters went and fucked it all up for me.

2) The environment provided by the folks that run this party is clean, safe, and sex positive. There is something to be said for an event that encourages a somewhat 70 year old tranny-ish girdle wearing grandpa to get his shit off. A lot of people would have been turned off by seeing that. I'm not a lot of people and if anything I thought it was heart warming.

3) There is a mandatory pants check at the door. This sounds like exactly what it is. After you come through the entrance and confirm with the host that you are aware this party is queer, you take a walk down a steep flight of steps and stop at the coat-check. This is where you remove your pants and whatever other articles of clothing you want to check and you exchange them for a ticket. What a wonderful way to promote people getting naked; make it mandatory.

After I found my whereabouts and looked into Daniel's occupied cubby hole, I stopped for a second and took it all in. I stood for bit and watched him. Daniel was looking at me with a crooked smile. I was certainly interested in what was going on and there was a fair amount of lust running through my veins but deep down I think I was genuinely taken aback and I'm sure my face showed that. Daniel cocked his head back to indicate I should join them. So, I did. "Is this your girlfriend"? the pretty one asked. We both responded and smiled at her. It was a good night.

A little while later, our friend took a seat next to us as we were taking in the action of another scene. She and I began to chat about toys and the likes. We discussed her topping. She told me it didn't happen very often but that when it did her equipment handled it. We would come to see her at a few future parties but the fun of that evening was a single occurrence.

Since our breakup, Spam has held one party. I don't see myself ever going back there but who knows what the future holds. I am sure, however, that Daniel and Miss Pretty will have their fun once again.

A break from your regularly scheduled drama..

As part of my effort to get the hell outta dodge, I am working toward getting myself into a Radiological Therapy program that is set to begin in September 2010. I briefly mentioned this in one of my intro posts, but I thought I should elaborate. I realize this blog is becoming a ranting space for things that happened with Daniel. It's going to happen, as I need to work out all the kinks and get the pain of the break up out of my system. I also want to be sure to keep my eye on the prize which is, as we know, saying goodbye to Brooklyn -

I take my entrance exam on May 7th. That's 9 days away. If all goes well and I get into this program, I will be putting myself in every possible form of debt via student loans galore. The ultimate plan includes quitting my full time job and paying the rent and bills via loaned money at what I imagine will be an outrageous percentage rate. I am probably just communicating my fears. The truth is, I haven't shopped the loans just yet. I did, however, speak with the financial aid liaison at the school and he advised that they've only got one private lender willing to work with their students. Considering I have absolutely no idea what I am doing with respect to student loans, shopping them and/or any of that other fun stuff, hearing that there may be only one available option has created a bit of hysteria on my end.

There are a lot of fears involved with this decision. You have to understand something about me in order to really get the gist of what I am trying to say here. I have been working in a "professional" capacity since I'm a teenager. For those of you who are unfamiliar with a Co-Operative Education system to sum it up as easily as possible, it's a program that allows you to alternate weeks attending work and school. At sixteen years old, I was working in the corporate offices of American Express's Catalog Order division in the World Financial Center. The pay was minuscule but I felt like a big girl in my business suits and Zodiac shoes. More importantly, though, was that in addition to the small salary I earned, the work time counted toward High School credit toward graduation.

Even prior to my alternating weeks at work for chump change, I earned my keep doing whatever I could. My mother, during one of her better lengths of life, had the galley-portion of a charter fishing boat in the Sheepshead Bay area fall into her lap. She basically owned this small business and kept it stocked with various edibles. The keep wasn't much but it paid the bills. I would often work shifts for her and earn a $30.00 shift pay plus whatever tips I could ring in. I was a hustler before Jay Z made it famous.

In summary, I have been gainfully employed for the better part of the last eighteen years of my life. I don't know what it is to not be employed and earn a paycheck every week. I have no idea what it is to just trust that everything is going to be OK. The only point of reference I have to ensure that things are going to be OK is to make sure they are!. And, if all goes well with the entrance exam on May 7th and the 4 hour admissions interview to follow that, come August 2010 I will be handing in my resignation and entrusting in the universe (and a shit load of loans) to take care of me.

Holy fuck. I am terrified!

At the end of the two year program I am eligible to sit for the exam that will render me a certified Radiological Therapist. According to everything I have read the market is going to boom approximately 26% between now and 2016 as a result of baby-boomers getting older and sicker. Makes sense. Graduation will be August 2012 at which time I will be bordering thirty-four years old. I feel like I'm starting from scratch, but I suppose anything that is started is started from nothing.

Keeping the goal of leaving the city in mind, I figure Medicine is an excellent industry to enter. The fact of the matter is that people will always get sick and barring a major advancement in Cancer Care, or an outright cure, care will always be a necessity.

One of my favorite places happens to be South Florida. It has nothing to do with Daniel coming from there; that just happened to be a nice coincidence. Florida's scale of pay has always been substantially less than that of NYC and this is something I need to take into consideration for a number of reasons. There is some strange driving force that constantly tells me I need to be there. I really can't identify what it is but I have an irking feeling inside and have had this feeling for quite some time now. With what may turn out to be close to $70,000 in student loans accrued in the next two years of my life, I am wondering how I will afford to not only relocate - but live in an area where the rate of pay is undoubtedly less than the norm. This is just one of the many fears that are entering my mind at this point and I realize that these apprehensions are going to grow stronger by the day. I hope I have the strength to push through this and not succumb to the fear that has held me back from moving forward in this life to date.

I really need to do this!

So when does this get easier?

Two weeks ago, the night that Daniel was set to come from his family vacation to Paris and walk into what would officially be "his" apartment, I had a session with my therapist. I mentioned to him that the week prior, knowing Daniel was on the other side of the Earth and that he was on a completely different time schedule than I was actually made the distance a lot easier. If it was 8pm and I was laying in bed missing him, I didn't have the option of jumping in a car and going to see him - or of even phoning him seeing as the time on his end would have been 2am. In a weird way, it made it feel as if Daniel and I existed on different plains. That, believe it or not, was easier than knowing that we are both just a short distance from one and other today.

Daniel got to keep our apartment. We went into our living arrangement with the understanding that if anything was to go bad between the two of us he'd be the one who would ultimately deal with it. At the point of our move in, Daniel was earning around 65K - with a bunch of freelance opportunities that brought in extra cash. A job change bumped him up to 80K a year. That, on top of the freelance work he does, and the random checks for thousands of dollars that his parents send his way for Christmas and Birthdays leave it safe to say that Daniel could manage the $1750.00 per month rent on the apartment. Expensive, I know... but we really did fall in love with the place when we first saw it.

Nestled on a tree lined block right off of the water and with the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge anchored to the right of it, our apartment was a 2 bedroom, one bath, all brand new modern condo-gone-rental. NYC's real estate boom brought with it a lot of luxury condos that didn't sell. Eventually they go rental and that's when we stumbled upon this place. It has a jacuzzi tub, sub-zero fridge, dish-washer, washer/dryer, and two balconies. The place was outright sick. I remember when we went to see it - and the broker brought us up and into the spot on the private elevator. I hate the fact that he's there now and I can't help but envision some loose girl (or boy - or who the fuck knows what) step off of the private elevator and just get instantly naked because of how impressive the apartment is! I guess that shit doesn't really happen, right? I watch too much porn.

When I met with my therapist, I remember he said to me 'I think this is really where it's going to get difficult. This is the real separation. He's back at the apartment and you're not.' - I didn't realize what he meant but last night it all hit me. I was in my new bedroom ironing the curtains I don't even like very much and I suddenly broke down into hysterics. I don't even know what it was about - I just, sort of, lost it. I continued to iron.. letting the tears flow. My chest was heaving the way it does when I get really out of control with the waterworks. At some point, I picked up the cat and tried to get a hug from him. I felt extremely alone. I was extremely alone.

I had plans with an old beau - to grab coffee. When he asked to reschedule I didn't jump into other plans as I should have. I figured I'd take the opportunity to just sit back and watch some TV or catch up on the studying I need to do for my school entrance exam on May 7th. None of that happened and instead I sat around and looked online at Daniel's Facebook which I have been all but deleted from - and looked at his online status on his male sex sites. Bottom boy for fun is ONLINE. None of this helps, so why am I doing it? I saw that he was signed onto AIM for the bulk of the weekend just like I had been. All seeing this does is make me sit there and ask myself why we are just a mile and a half apart from one and other, both sitting around on a Saturday night at 11pm, and not together? That's the root of the pain. I don't understand how he can sit there and see the same thing and not have the desire to not connect with me. I suppose what everyone says may be true - he could be gay? I don't know why it's hard for me to believe or accept that. If my gay friends read this they'd probably bitch smack me for even debating it. They're all convinced as convinced can be that Daniel is, in-fact, a closeted homosexual. As a matter of fact, two of my closest gay friends made absolutely no apologies about proclaiming the idea of bi-sexuality for males is non-existent and that if you wake up in the morning and have the idea of sucking cock on your mind, you are unequivocally gay.

I would love to hear some opinions on this? I don't know that it will help me heal or accept that Daniel is gay and that this break up has little to do with my just not being "the one", but maybe strength in numbers would help?

Here's where things get gay..

I'm writing this post from inside the Housing Works Bookstore and Cafe which is one of NYC's leading volunteer run bookstores. The proceeds of the store directly benefit AIDS and HIV. Obviously, there is a large gay community that frequents this establishment. Thank you, Housing Works, for continuing to provide much needed funds to the research and development of medical advancements for HIV/AIDS.

How does this tie into anything I am discussing with you all? Well, I guess it does and it doesn't. Firstly, I thought the bookstore should be given a shout out. Free Wifi - Holla. Secondly, I've been thinking of a way to introduce the fact that Daniel is a bi-sexual male and I couldn't figure out a good introduction to the topic. Enter Housing Works and here we are.

Daniel and I had been dating for less than a month when I mentioned that, in jest, a gay friend of mine asked about whether or not he liked boys. Daniel's response was a shy and whispered "well, that depends on how drunk I am". I took it for what it was worth - and a short time thereafter Daniel came 'out' to me about his being full-on bi-sexual, no alcohol influence required. For whatever reason, I seem to attract men who have homosexual tendencies. I suppose it could be that I am a very accepting woman? It could also be that I am as open sexually as almost anyone you're going to meet. Chances are that if it doesn't involve animals, children, or an expressed non-consent, I have tried it and probably liked it. That said, who am I to throw stones? Daniel and I discussed his history with men and at first, I have to admit, I was pretty turned on. I suppose it's a rarity, but I kind of get off on watching two boys make out and take things to the next level. I only know a handful of other women with whom this is cool, so yeah - I suppose it's a rarity.

The topic of Daniel's tendencies with men opened up the discussion to other areas of sexuality as well. I admitted that I used to be a pretty popular sex-blogger and had various ties to the whole sex-blog community. Without compromising my identity at this point, I'll say that I did have my fun within Jefferson's world of onelifetaketwo.com. Jefferson and I have experienced everything from going on a very standard boy/girl date to the movies, to my visiting his house on an impromptu occasion to witness a hot smaller sized BBW experience her very first gangbang. Wait, our movie date was actually to check out Kinsey. Is that standard? Either way, there's a history there that cannot and should not be ignored. I have a bit of a sordid past, readers - and you can bet your ass that that past has a lot to do with the intentions of my future.

Even though I asked him not to go looking on various Internet archive sites, about a month or so into our dating, Daniel couldn't help himself and he dug up some of my old scribbles. He familiarized himself with my other - other alter ego. He got to know her - and in doing so, he forced himself to almost need to experience the same things that she had. You see, Daniel had always wanted to experience these group-sex events. He shared with me that he had tried, to no avail, via various Craigslist postings to get himself invited to group happenings. I suppose it's more difficult to find yourself invited to these events when you're not a willing female? I never had that problem. heh. -

After relentless pushing from his end, I contacted the powers that be and arranged for he and I to attend a thing happening in Fort Greene, Brooklyn. I hadn't been to any type of group event in well over a year, maybe even two, at that point. I just sort of woke up one day and decided that this wasn't for me. I got into the scene via this dude that I had met on, where else?, Craigslist. I remember a time where my sexuality really dominated my thoughts and I went with it. I don't regret having experienced a lot of the things I did. I don't regret having fed the desires that I had that may seem very abnormal to some - but felt very natural to me. I do, however, regret having got caught up in the scene and mistaking the groups with whom I was sharing these outrageous sexual encounters for an intimate setting/foundation. There is a fine line between sexual fantasy and emotional intimacy and as I get older I am beginning to see that line crystal-clear. But, I digress. - We went to this party at this chick's house in Fort Greene. Jefferson was helping her throw her first event and she seemed pretty nervous about the execution. It was rather cute, actually.

We arrived early - and there were only a few bodies there. The way these things generally work is that the earlier part of the evening is spent fully clothed (for the most part) having small talk and noshing on whatever snacks are provided. Sounds kind of nice, doesn't it? It actually is, in a weird way? Anyway, we made chit-chat with some of the other folks there. There was the hostess, Jefferson, a very-youngish girl he'd brought with a voice that was SUPER annoying and what I suspected to be exaggerated to up play the fact that she was a young girl. This was a MAJOR turn off for me. So, yeah - all of those folks and one cute young black boy. As the night grew on, more folks arrived and at some point in which I don't really remember, clothes came off and people began to make their way toward the bedroom. Some of these events require that any play happen in designated rooms and others are a bit more relaxed in terms of where you do your thing. This particular party was the latter and at various points throughout the evening there were people doing their groove-thing all about the place. This is real deal porno type shit happening in the flesh - in front of your eyes. It's pretty wild, to say the least. I had decided before our even going out to the event that I wasn't going to be participating in anything aside from fun with Daniel. I really am over the casual-sex with various anonymous partners thing and I wasn't going to jump back into it because Daniel felt he needed to. I did, however, understand the desires he was having and I figured - fuck it, what can it hurt to support his sexual curiosities? And so, Daniel was pretty much free to do his thing - with the exception of fucking other women. Hey man, what's fair is fair. I wasn't ready for that just yet.

Sex party sheets donned the bed and an air mattress type of device lined the floor. There was also a desk that served as a decent perch for viewing purposes. I was approached a bunch but I stayed true to my decision to not play outside of the relationship. Throughout the evening, I think Daniel had his fun with two boys, one girl, and got to do his share of masturbating while watching various other scenes. There were crops, huge dildos, and if I remember correctly this was the night I met Mr. Nuscious who was rocking some serious garters and took a fist to the ass like a champ. I liked him, instantly, and we became sort of fast friends, via IMs at least. I need to reach out to him! The way the scenes came to be were all sort of random. At one point, this heavily tattooed and bearded boy came up to us while we were making out and asked whether or not he could join in on the kissing. I wasn't really feeling the mountain man look he had going but Daniel had no objections and I took a step to the side to watch the man who I was confident would eventually become my husband make out with a bearded boy in boxer briefs. I took no issue with this at all. Anyone that I've shared that with often has to hold back their vicious comments. I understand - but, I am all about sexual exploration and if this was an activity that Daniel felt he needed or wanted to participate in, I'd rather be there and be a part of it than be one of the many women whose husbands are off sucking cock while they're home breastfeeding the newborn. Think it doesn't happen? Think again.

I watched Daniel make out with bearded mountain man, suck the cock of a aforementioned cutie black boy, finger-bang the hostess, and eventually have his orgasm at the hand of Mr. Beard. There was a point in the evening that I participated with Daniel by going down on him amidst the group. Somewhere in this time, comments had been made by Jefferson who is obviously a former lover. I can't remember what they were exactly but something about the dominant nature of his comments made Daniel feel uncomfortable. I felt like saying "Seriously? This is what you're going to get jealous over, Daniel? Your fucking mouth was just wrapped around another man’s penis and I'm OK with it" - Either way, I knew where my loyalty was supposed to be and the situation became pretty uncomfortable for me. I suggested we leave - and that was met with resistance. Daniel had "come to get off and he hadn't gotten off yet". Yes, that's a quote. I probably should've just up and left, but I went and had a seat in the living room where things were a bit less wild.

I had shared various concerns with him prior to going to this event. I felt we weren't remotely strong enough for this yet. We were only together, what? - a month and a half or so? I was concerned that he wasn't going to be able to separate his personal desires from those of which may or may not be good for a relationship. Couples attending sex parties together have to have a serious bond. I have seen it - and it really can be quite beautiful, but I am a firm believer in the fact that all other facets of your relationship need to be locked down if you're going to go putting other people’s genitalia in your mouth and the likes. I believe that it is certainly possible to separate sex from love - but when you involve another person you better be sure that you are both on the same page. Daniel and I didn't even know each other yet. This event was a mistake.

Once I had calmed down some, I joined the bedroom situation to check in on what was happening. I'm not sure of the exact chain of events but I do know that Daniel had lost his erection at some point and this caused him a bunch of turmoil and discomfort. This was a regular thing - not only at sex parties - but even at home just amongst us two. When I say a regular thing, I don't mean his losing his erections. I mean, I guess I do mean that, but I don't mean it to come out in a negative way. Men lose erections. It happens. I'm not at all being judgmental here. What I am referring to is his discomfort with it happening. The very last fight we had as boyfriend and girlfriend was loosely surrounded by Daniel losing his erection. After doing so, he apologized to me for being "fucking pathetic". Daniel, if you ever read this... you have to chill. It happens - it's not the end of the world and by contributing to the thoughts that you're pathetic and the likes, you're only fueling the fire thus causing the smolder, so to speak.

Ok - fast forward to the orgasm part of the evening. Daniel's eventual orgasm was via a half blow job / half hand job from the bearded dude. Daniel came all over this poor girl’s floor. All I could think was 'ew - how rude-'.. See? I really am over the group-sex thing. This should've been a situation that made me feel hot and instead I am all thinking about whether or not the quicker picker upper was going to work for the huge load he'd blown all over the floor. Shortly after Daniel got his rocks off, we set off for my apartment.

I cried on the way home - and explained to him that when I asked him to leave it wasn't because I was looking out for his best interest and that regardless of what the reason behind my asking it should have been accepted and executed rather than debated. Daniel punched the steering wheel a bunch of times - and for the next few months talked only about how sex-parties could be a lot more fun if you weren't limited by your partner’s opinions - or, for lack of a better word, rules. I suppose that's true to an extent, but then - maybe this is why you shouldn't go trying to create your own sexual history based on that of your lovers past that you excavated without consent.

This is also a lesson learned for me - and I can almost guarantee you that moving forward whomever it is I do wind up with will not be privy to my complete sexual history.

It's pretty obvious when you meet me, via my appearance and my general demeanor, that I am a sexually charged woman but the extent of my experience is not something I am going to continue to be so lucid about. That sort of bothers me and in a weird way I kind of feel like I am denying a part of who I am. Then again, in the interest of personal growth and moving forward, maybe I'm not really that girl anymore at all?

So I conducted a social expirement

As a half of a social experiment half honest excitement about a very
interesting essay I read today, I posted a link on Facebook for my
friends to get their read on – The essay in question can be viewed
here for those of you who are interested… It’s pretty long, consider
that a warning.

The crib notes are basically this – Einstein’s posing the statement
that the most important question a person can ask in their lifetime is
whether or not the universe is friendly. The author of the essay took
this question and placed it into a thought provoking lengthy piece of
work in which he doesn’t attempt to answer the question of whether the
universe is happy or not – but instead, he gives examples of how a
persons thought patterns and the likes may or may not attract
different things in their lives. It’s a bit more complex than that and
it contains various thoughts on quantum mechanics, universal
coincidences (or lack thereof) and the basic laws of attraction. It borderlines on the basic foundations of “The Secret” –

So, I post this link – and I ask for thoughtful and intelligent conversation and opinions to be provided via feedback. (It’s times like this that I really miss Daniel) – Amongst the first bit of feedback that come in is the general statement that the question of whether or not the universe is friendly is in of itself a “retarded question” – Great, thanks for that opinion there buddy. Very thoughtful response. Next up is a Facebook friend who must’ve thought I was asking for the essay to be explained to me because she went into how the entire thing was really just all about the glass ½ empty vs the glass ½ full. Once again, thanks for that very thought out and explicit comment. In short, by around 25 minutes after posting the essay I was enraged that not one of my 496 facebook friends had a thoughtful enough comment to solicit an intelligent conversation on a topic which I find to be something that can be discussed to no end.

I need new friends

A strong percentage of my strong desire to breakup with Brooklyn lies in the fact that the people with whom I associate here are by and large very unexposed. It’s not the under-exposure that bothers me about them – I understand not being taught about the world and coming up in an area that was somewhat segregated. What I don’t understand is how in 2010 with the internet, media, and various other sources of information, these same folks are not dying to get out into the world and learn something new. This – in of itself – is a driving force behind my needing a serious change of scenery.

I know what many of you might be thinking and that is that my experiences with in Brooklyn are not representative of the entire Borough – and you’re right. Unfortunately, rent in an area with a bit of a more cultured existence is outrageously high and I am simply not in a position to take that step financially. So, what CAN I do?

A few friends have suggested meetup.com – Do any of you have any experience with it? I’m generally familiar with the concept behind the site and I think it’s a cool enough idea. I’m not sure what types of meetups I’d be into – but the idea of seeking out a more cultured audience in terms of social companionship is seriously appealing to me right now.

Social companionship – did I just say that? What the fuck is social companionship, anyway? You’re talking to a girl who would easily date a different dude every night and stay more than busy doing so. What is this concept I am about to embrace? Not using what I’ve got on my side in terms of being an attractive outgoing female – to get men to hang out with me by dangling the carrot that is my vagina in their face? What? –


When did this happen?

I was speaking to my therapist about that tonight, actually, and I announced to him, proudly, that I have not yet jumped into the sack with a suitor as a means to ease the pain of splitting with Daniel. I am, however, starting to have some natural desires again – and that means I’m about to enter some rough terrain with respect to riding the road that is this healing process I need to go through. It’s very easy to medicate yourself via drug or dick – what is not easy is resisting the temptation to fill a general void you’re having as a human being. I feel that void entering the picture on a grand scale and while I am dedicated to not making the same mistakes I’ve made in my past with respect to casual sex, I can’t say I’m not really starting to feel really lonely.

Who - What - Where - When - Why - as it stands today

Dating Daniel was sort of a sweet escape from the usual men I've been with. He is originally from Florida, attended college in Minnesota and has done his share of traveling. He regularly commented on how NYC seemed like a great place to be for now but he couldn't see it being home. That made me hopeful, as having called Brooklyn home for the last 32 years has really weighed me down and I have no doubt that this won't be home forever. I have been contemplating leaving Brooklyn for years now.

They say you can't get where you're going unless you know where you've been, right? Well, with that in mind, let's talk about the who/what/where/whens/whys of Kitty Graves' life as it stands today:

The who: Kitty Graves, female, 32 years old. A mix of Italian (Siciliana), German and a bunch of other fun stuff. Born with a severe addiction to Methadone into a family of one 7 year old sibling and two parents both of which are also Brooklyn born and raised. Household was of the typical Brooklyn Italian persuasion and located right outside of Coney Island. Employed full time in Administrative Management in NYC. Sexual orientation: Straight (with a history of extreme experimentation) No children. Single. Under-sexed, Under-paid, Under-loved, Over-emotional. Lives with one cat and often thinks about getting another but doesn't want to be a Crazy Cat Lady before the age of 50. Education: HS Graduate with approximately 30 some-odd college credits. Currently in application phase for program at a Brooklyn based hospital program for Radiological Therapy. Physical description: Brunette, ultra-feminine with a propensity to rock Timberlands and Hoodies on the perfect spring night. Moderately tattooed. Size 10 all American chubby chick - full bust, full ass, full of spit & vinegar!

The where: I am one week into a new one bedroom apartment in the South West corner of Brooklyn, NYC. My neighborhood is one of the few remaining Brooklyn neighborhoods to have a heavily populated Italian immigrant population. Seeing as I am an Italian American myself, this works for me.

The why: Well - this answer will come in multiples -

(a) 6 months into living with Daniel he pulled the plug on our relationship forcing me to find a new place in a hurry. Part (a) of the why section brought me to the where section.

(b) I have been a resident of the South-Westish area of Brooklyn my entire life and it's familiar. It's interesting that as much as I seek a change, I continue to stay in an area that has not seen much in terms of the ever popular gentrification of Brooklyn. The truth is this: I am paying $850.00 for a one bedroom apartment in a very safe area (Wikipedia reports there was only 1 murder last year!). Now, don't get me wrong, I'd LOVE to live in a gorgeous area like Carroll Gardens, which by the way also has a decent Italian population left, but in comparison to what I am getting for my money down yonder, I'd be renting a closet converted into a bedroom. I, unlike most people who are moving into Brooklyn, cannot see paying more than 50% of my income on rent alone. That's just insane.

(c) I've been at this jumpy South-West Brooklyn thing for approximately 13 years. During High School I was lucky enough to jump into a program called Co-Operative Education. I worked one week and went to school the next. The program gave me the opportunity to get ties into fortune 500 companies in Manhattan and by the age of 19 I was supporting myself with a full-time job on Wall Street. This wasn't any Gordon Gecko gig - but it paid the bills and gave me the opportunity to get the fuck out of dodge (aka, home) when the environment became way too unhealthy. Since then it's been one big game of survival.

I envy those who have had education and a safe home life handed to them. I envy them more than you can possibly imagine. Only now, at nearly 32 years old, am I beginning to come up for air. Only now am I beginning the process of stepping out of survival and into success. This shit is scarier than anything I have ever had to do - and as this blog builds more of a foundation on my past you may find that hard to believe.. Because, frankly, I've been through some shit.


The when: There is no time like the present

The what: Damned if I know? The what? What is it, exactly, that I am hoping to accomplish by documenting what may be estimated to be the next two years of my life? Phew... You know, I'm not sure I can really answer that definitively. I have one ultimate mission in mind and that is to say goodbye to the borough of Brooklyn. I suppose it's safe to say that this blog will be a structure of sort? It may serve as a ladder I need to climb up and out. It may wind up serving as just a means to get out the pain I hold inside. The pain of a life that has been far less than fortunate, the pain of a break-up that has not only broken my heart but proceeded to masticate it, swallow it, regurgitate it and spit it in my face. Yeah, I can be dramatic at times. Get used to it. Ultimately, it may just be something to do to kill the time while I figure out the next steps in this 32 year stroll through life.

The one thing I can tell you for sure, however, is that the story will be a wild one so strap in and get ready to ride. I am happy you're joining me and quite frankly, I need you, so please, stick around.

I can't say he didn't warn me...

I met Daniel at the very start of 2009. We began chatting after he responded to a personal ad I had placed on Craigslist. I know what you're thinking.. Craigslist? I suppose you're sort of right - but the fact of the matter is that I threw the ad up just to see what would happen. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd meet someone with whom a first date would last 5 days and after nine-months of dating we'd move in together. But, I did.

We have very different backgrounds and while that didn't seem to be an issue at first, it certainly began to present itself throughout the duration of our courting. His family is uber-successful where mine is, well let's just say that my father is meeting with a lawyer this week to discuss his options for a 2nd filing of Chapter 11. You'll learn plenty more about my family life as this blog picks up and I build a basis for you to understand why it is I am filing for divorce from Brooklyn, New York.

As this blogs title indicates, there is a bit of a double entendre thing happening here and I hope I can introduce the various ideas with which I am beginning this story in an eloquent and easy to follow manner. I am beginning my story in real time. Today is April 18, 2010 and while the rest of the world knows me as Kitty Graves, for the purposes of the remainder of this post I shall be termed Brooklyn.

Breaking up with Brooklyn: A play in one act - one short, vicious, and surgical act, was performed live in front of an audience of one; me, on March 17 of this year. Daniel and I had been having our various problems for a while and as this posts title indicates, I can't say he didn't warn me... I can't say he didn't warn me that if we continued to have these "relationship talks" for much longer he'd be on his way. I can't say he didn't warn me that he had a ridiculously easy time with letting people go. I can't say he didn't warn me that he could be a cold-hearted son of a bitch. What I can say, however, is that for some strange reason I truly believed he'd never do or be those things to me. Reality is a bitch, though - isn't she?

These aforementioned relationship talks began around a month prior to the actual break-up. My being this firestorm of emotion makes it nearly impossible for me to sit quiet with my thoughts. With that in mind, when I noticed Daniel had been acting a bit disinterested in - well, everything except for Playstation 3, porn, and our cat, Stratus, I began to feel pretty insecure and anxious. I asked for reassurance that we were OK - and I asked for it commonly. I've always been hypersensitive, or as I like to refer to it, very intuitive when it came to picking up on someone distancing themselves. Abandonment issues aside, I really do have some sort of knack for knowing when things are amiss. I brought it up - to a fault - and insisted we discuss the feelings I was having. Daniel went from a man that talked about marrying me and thinking about having children to someone that would jump for joy for a night alone in our apartment. If I was on your end of the intertubes reading this, I'd think to myself "well, maybe he just didn't love her anymore" - but I don't think that's what it was about. Love was never our issue - I believe it to be a lot deeper than that.

Earlier I mentioned our first date lasting 5 days. I wasn't kidding. Daniel and I linked up for a drink with the intention of following up drinks with a hip-hop party in Brooklyn, NY. There's this DJ troupe called The Rub and their parties are pretty awesome. I mentioned the idea and once he and I had met and been comfortable enough with each other to commit to a full night of hanging out, we walked the few blocks over to the club where The Rub was doing their thing. January in NYC is serious - and as we waited on the snaking line to get into the spot, I reached out for the warmth of another human in the form of a hug. Minutes later we had our first kiss. The night was amazing. We listened to and danced to old school hip-hop, drank plenty of alcohol, and generally enjoyed each other’s company. The reason I bring any of this up at this point is because before we even left the club we had begun to discuss our various 'issues' and we shared these thoughts with each other in an attempt to not fall into the same traps we both had in the past. Looking back on it, it’s almost like we were working to keep the relationship alive before it was ever technically born. Either way, my honest admissions included telling Daniel that I have a tendency to find reasons to run away from people who seem to be good for me. I admitted to not believing I was "good enough" for a higher caliber of human being. I admitted that I had tons of insecurities and wasn't sure I had anything in common with folks who have had a normal life. He admitted that he would look for various reasons to dislike someone quickly and then run the other way, never giving them a fair chance. He also admitted having an aptitude for dropping someone in the blink of an eye and never looking back.

I can't say he didn't warn me.....