I have been toiling with this idea of disclosure and truth for some time now. A friend of mine used to tell me that I had to understand that writing about other people without their permission was certainly not a kosher thing for me to be doing, at least in the same time/space frame (meaning events transpiring almost recently). So I largely veil my interactions with people, designating almost everyone down to an initial. Very rarely will someone’s full first name slip out, and it’s certainly not about accidentally dropping it. I am much more deliberate than that, of course.

It was pointed out to me that some folks (well, dudes of course) might be a little turned off by my writing for more than a few reasons. Number one, you don’t want to end up in my blog as the end result of a tirade against your douchery. But I don’t even think I would bother immortalizing someone who truly turned my stomach here until enough time has passed for me to be able to write about it in a less than indignant manner. And even then the biggest douches I kind of don’t even want to think about again, so I would choose to avoid any kind of disclosure permanently, anyways. I did have a few blogs, the dictionary of douchebags and the diary of douchebags where I wanted to list the different types categorically and alphabetically. I still think it is a goldmine I should one day revisit, but perhaps when I have found my bliss with someone and I can write about them in a very real and detached manner. If I tried doing it while single, I would almost be too jaded to make it anything but unfunny. Second of all, I guess as women we are expected to be subservient docile creatures who cater to the whims of our men and don’t have a word to say about anything. Or rather, not have as many opinions as I evidently have. I am pretty sure you could get off on a fleshlight if that was your idea of a good relationship. It doesn’t talk back, and offers nothing but satisfaction if you are looking for that kind of thing. But yes, anyways. Clearly I have known more men and continue to make friends that probably won’t ever be mentioned, unless a true friendship forms from it all and blossoms into something less temporary than in-a-net meetings usually entail. For now, it is much to early in the game to know really anything.

Oh and the internet shopping experience that is online dating. It is shopping a la amazon. You can pick any number of feasible parameters to search through and have a likely list delivered to your shopping basket to sift through to see if you really wanted to hit complete purchase, which involves little more than a note, er, receipt of sorts, with no commitment and endless returns! Truly, you can search by religion, occupation, age, height, body, diet, children or not, astrological sign, and the list goes on and on. The site I am on also allows you to rate people, which inherently aggravates me, given I get these notifications every day that someone has marked me 4 or 5 stars based on my profile. It’s kind of annoying, and I can admit I have done the return ratings in efforts to see who is looking at me from afar…but I still wonder why they don’t just search via the obvious parameters and then write me directly. The shopping for humans is perhaps a viable means to find what you are looking for, but it also seems that sometimes you are thrown curve balls in that sometimes opposites do attract, and a lot of the time, the people who strike your fancy are not always who you would necessarily picture yourself being involved with. I guess if you looked through a photo album of the men I have loved, the only common denominator between all of them was a genius mind. I have dated astrophysicists to musicians to artists. Most of them had no tattoos, and I did date a Jewish man for almost four years, who is my best friend today, and used to sport polo shirts most days of the week as his fashion. Tattooed boys and I generally don’t get along, given they often modify their bodies as some type of rebellious statement about not wanting to affiliate with the rest of humanity or as a sort of shock shield. And they are largely without the spirit that keeps my motor revved. If I can’t like your brain, and we have nothing to talk about, well, why would I bother? And there are a lot of dead-eyed souls walking around, sometimes packaged up in beautiful bodies and faces.

I can readily admit I am somewhat lazy with the sifting. As crazy and dumb as it sounds, I do kind of like being the one chased. All of my efforts to chase others seem to be thwarted in some fashion so it seems, as the men being the ones hunting is the preferable method of beginning. Well, from what I have seen, and here in Denver, it is most definitely the way of men. I do want to be swept off my feet, as lame and infantile as that probably sounds. I want the passion and fire to define the spirit of it all, and without that (passion) it is largely a DOA endeavor. I realize this is largely unfeminist in thought, but I am not so much feminist as I am humanist. I have never felt discriminated against due to the contents of my underwear. I know I am smart, and I don’t let people walk on me because I am female. Granted my pay in the past might have been defined more on my sex than my abilities, but it’s the way the cookie crumbles and I am not one to get too involved in arguments of gender inequality. I sometimes I think I am more primal and think more like a man than most women seem to think. Well, this is in terms of sex more than anything. And though that has been a largely untouched plain over the past few years…I do have needs, and yeah, my physicality sometimes needs an outlet.

But that’s about as much as I plan on saying about that…

And for more interesting reading, since we all know I am into astrology on some level, I did this little thing yesterday while I was waiting to get picked up to go to the dragon boat races about my love “sign.” And people who know me, and well, those of you who read me, will probably understand this is all right on the money. A pain in the ass designation, but I would say, yes, a hundred percent true:

Venus, often called the Planet of Love, is a feminine sign and rules both Taurus and Libra, as well as the Second and Seventh Houses. Venus represents love, sensuality, romance, beauty, culture, affection and one’s social appeal. Venus is about how we feel when we are interacting socially with others — romantically, professionally or even platonically. Its placement in our chart provides insight into what we are attracted to and what is attracted to us. Your Venus sign defines what you love and how you love it and is therefore referred to as your Love Sign. Venus (in conjunction with the Moon) governs our emotional life and unions of all kinds. Imagine Venus as a warm buzz — it does, after all, rule your sensory organs and all the spots that feel good emotionally and sensually.

The dance card is packed for those with their Venus in Sagittarius. Spotting one potential lover is not likely the case, for these folks are attracted to many. This is the kind of situation that can make life interesting, to say the least. Does this mean those with this placement will never settle down? Not necessarily — it just means the search for a mate will be a spirited one! What’s essential in this search is turning up a partner with a similar quest for adventure and penchant for activity. The freedom to be is also ideal, and once committed, those with Venus in Sagittarius are loyal and honest in their relationships. Happy feet are likely to afflict those with Sagittarius in their House of Love, as they love to travel and have a wandering spirit. As well, any type of physical activity or body movement is Zen to these folks. Yoga? Meditation? Bioenergetics? It’s likely to work for these happy souls. When the Archer is shooting his bows into your proverbial heart, just hope that he brings along with him a kindred spirit who understands that mental and physical stimulation along with a lust for life will always hit the bull’s-eye!