You can thank me later. I know, I know, I am a genius.
If you are commitment phobic with re: to relationships to homosapiens, or even have a case of commitment p. that includes owning a cuddly pet….
U r in luck.
I found a place that TRAINS dogs(don’t worry about the new Persian rug, and even if the dog wasn’t trained, it could make the pattern look edgy–a funky, spotty motif), then allows you to borrow them for as long as you want…
You get to PICK THE ONE YOU WANT, PLAY WITH IT, IT WON’T CHEAT ON YOU, AND YOU DON’T HAVE TO GO ANY FARTHER THAN CUDDLING WITH IT!!!!
How much do you love me???lol
Here is the link–enjoy!
Gigi, just informing all that she is still waiting for feedback, and is saddened because she doesn’t know if she is liked, disliked…Oh, just enjoy the link!
There is no Morning After Pill when one awakens and realizes that alone takes on a whole new meaning–and it becomes a STATUS, an illness, a sharp cardiac ache, a verb, a noun, an adjective, and a very frightening dead end–without a happily ever in sight.
I sat at my desk at work, quieter than usual, still giving large grins, and making others smile, but feeling my heart was like one of the clocks in the famous Salvador Dali painting…heavy, dripping, falling….
I took my half hour lunch not once–but twice, and I can’t afford to lose this job, because I can’t afford. Period.
I wrote this poem on the way home from work, as I left an hour early, but it was for naught–I took a train to Queens(Josh’s dwelling…Subconscious doing something here????)…So instead of 2 trains home, I needed to take 4 trains home….
Here is the poem…I am cried out, so I will allow my heart to talk to you.
WALKING ON THE EDGE
Walking on the edge of a razor blade
Familiar ground for my already ,scabbed, bloody feet
Scars from the past look like a map of cul de sacs and accidents
Never fully recovered from.
Walking on the edge of this blade, I fear not of falling
As I fell for you, and things seemed too perfect
I was sure G0d had come a’callin’.
Through my clothing you ripped out my soul
As you visually undress all others and cruelly watch my face fall.
“The Delusional Emporer” wants me in new attire; to satisfy his lust
He wants Cinderella, Juliet, Snow White and he is far the fairest of them all.
If I can’t be loved for whom I am, held, and appreciated for my inner beauty as well,
I refuse to live as the beauties have died–perfect skeletons–when they heard the death knell.
I bared my soul to you, so precious, so intimate,
Yet you want my body and an outer shell…
When you read my immortal epitaph one day
In simplicity, see the real me…Realize your loss and weep…
Too late, for you, the insomniac, will never be cured, and I will be at peace in eternal sleep.
Gigi, waiting for a comment, something, but my dear readers’ silence is deafening. Why?
In the cafe’, Josh nixed the idea of Hairspray, The Movie, even though he was in the mood for a movie. I am flexible that way. Whatever. Movie, no movie, movie I have seen, etc…
When in the Cafe’, Josh kept staring at plain looking girls wearing skimpy sundresses, some who I believe forgot that “Support Can Be Beautiful” and left home…very free, and the like. Well, he liked.
I can admit when a girl has a hot body, or is beautiful. This isn’t a competition.
Josh believes in tough love and brutal honesty. I believe he is beauitful, but if he would make a comment that would painful, I would tell him, after freezing into immobility, and getting a lump in his throat…
Josh who thinks I am so awesome in so many ways I won’t say, basically said the way I dress, covered up(very fashionista, edgy–I get compliments from people in the fashion industry all the time), didn’t attract him….Wasn’t a problem all the times I made him feel so awesome…All the times he was so smitten with me…
He wants me to show my legs open-neck, a la sundress, etc…One of you, my dear readers wrote to me to tell him that if he really cared he would love/like me for who I am…I thank you for that. I told him. He said he can’t. He said he is very shallow, and even if my body is good under clothing, he needs the visual to turn him on…And he thinks in his moments of omniscience(I took the liberty of adding that, but he does believe he sees the innermost me…If he did, he never would’ve allowed my heart to fall so hard and sigh, give up, cry, and stop believing in everything. Really.)
I took a cab home and had him come along because he had to be in the area(by the way, while I was with him, I was hit on by a few niiiiice guys–he made believe he didn’t notice, and I definitely did the same. I only have eyes for him–oh, and by the way? He has a bit of a stomach. I don’t. Yet he needs perfection. Witness Exhibit A– A skeleton with dead eyes. Want to date her? Because I can be her. So many guys I know want her. They see her on the runway on some Fashion Channel, and since I work with some celebs and pple in the fashion industry–I know, I can close my mouth, fill the void with this all encompassing pain…..
OF ALL PEOPLE–THE ONE THAT MAKES PEOPLE LAUGH WHEN THEY ARE DOWN, THE ONE THAT LOVES, THE ONE WHO FEELS TOO MUCH, WHY, WHY WHYYYYYYYYYYYY CAN’T I BE LOVED???
A HELLISH LIFE LEADS TO WHAT???? IF THIS IS WHERE IT LEADS TO, LET ME BE, IN A HEAP, CRYING….
HIT ME AGAIN! HURT ME AGAIN! IS THIS FUN FOR ANYONE???
Gigi, not sure anymore what her purpose is in the “grand” SCHEME of things, and hurting so badly….
Funny how the most well-known song by Queen is “We are the Champions”–when in fact, there are so many beautiful songs they put out. My personal favorite? “The Show Must Go On”–Freddie Mercury’s goodbye song “…Inside my heart is breaking, My makeup my be flaking, But my smile still stays on…”
Ironically, another one of their songs, “Another one bites the dust” happened yesterday. Went with Josh to his music lessons, something intimate in and of itself, as he has been training for the opera for years, and was his voice is…..breathtaking…Yet, the word breathtaking doesn’t do him justice….He was one of five gifted American singers chosen now to go to Italy and sing in THE BIG LEAGUES. His teacher is world-reknowned, and I sat there, listening to the lesson, watching, completely mesmerized. Compared to this, American Idol is the biggest farce out there. MY Josh can reach notes that are higher than Andrea Boccelli–yes.
Oh, but he isn’t mine anymore. He bit the dust yesterday, and pulled me down with him, walking away, and I peeked behind me, not afraid lest I turn into a pillar of salt, as I am nothing more, in reality.
Josh was the guy I met on a Friday, I proposed to, very whirlwind, kinda related to me….The one that told me I could be thinner when I am quite thin already….If you need to refresh your memory, it’s in the posts, and branded on my weeping heart.
I don’t remember if I told you I have a new job…it is ok, a lot of hard mental work, a lot of quick thinking…That isn’t what is on the forefront of my mind, though.
Yesterday, I looked really tall–four inch platforms–comfie ones–not the hoochie mama kind. It made me a bit taller than six feet. I had really missed Josh, and he me, so we met in The Village, and It felt….right. We went to his voice lesson and apparently his teacher, who is so so gifted, took to me as well. He said I was the second person Josh ever bought to watch him and the other person was a guy a long time ago. To say the least, I was flattered.
After listening to what sounded like my own personal angel singing, Josh and I went to a cafe’, sat down and tried to decide what to do next….
Gigi…in too much pain to finish this right now
What happened to the “Poetry In Motion” on the NYC Subways??? I would love to read the poems, as this writer at kidney, would be holding on, white-knuckled to the main pole, thinking of the germs living on it–Stripper Germs–Pole Dancer Mom, knocked up by Pimp Dad, the teen rebel teens(think the kids from “Married with Children” and have the “Love and Marriage” tune playing in your head incessantly, the grandkids from the missed Morning After Pill….And the ability for the kids to reproduce asexually…Okay, so I am messed up….By now, in my head they aren’t human…
I need something else to focus on, and if I stare too much at the man with the MNTs(Multiple Nervous Tics) quoting from The Gospel According To Himself, And The Voices In His Head…I will FREAK!!!!!!!
Where did the poetry go??? If the MTA hikes the price of the subway, am I destined to read and re-read the REPTILE DYSFUNCTION ADVERTISEMENT FOREVER???
Gigi, anxious after one too many coffees and seatless rides into The Big Onion.
(The Big Apple was called The Big Onion years ago…I kid you not…I think…Or did I call it that after my favorite hilarious newspaper?)
Ever leave a child in his/her terrible two or therrible threes to their own devices and realize suddenly that it was waaaaaay too quiet??? You then proceed to ask the child “What are you doing, Trouble Jr./Trouble Juniorette?”, and the response is, a loud, guilt-laden voice answering “NOTHING!!!”–You sprint like a marathon runner because it is then that you discover Destruction. (Your Laura Mercier lipsticks smashed to nibs and smeared all over your new cream linen by your adorable nephew; Your new Agent Provocatuer Lingerie stuffed into the toilet bowl, trying to be flushed down by your niece, but alas, too much lace(???? tiny pieces of nothing as a gift to yourself and a new boyfriend), so you are essentially standing in Gigi’s (insert your name) Flood, without an ark, and with microscopic pieces of lingerie that cost enough to pay a mortgage on a home in Long Island, floating all over the floor—AND THEN YOUR BROTHER IN LAW WALKS IN…. Need I continue??? I didn’t think so…(Those of you that wanted me to continue, you now have something to dicuss with your shrink this week–”Why do I enjoy Gigi’s suffering?”=0)
So what does this have to do with Jewish Singles? I AM PREACHING ABSTINENCE!
MESSIN’ WITH YA!
Well, if you wan’t to abstain, you can do that. Leave me out of the bedroom…Since the lipsticks, bedrooms scare me…I get hives…Nah…This insomniac’s fave hobby is to sleep, if she can find out how!
My point about the “NOTHING!!!” when A LOT OF SOMETHING IS GOING DOWN is EXACTLY THAT…
I didn’t write to you all in while. I didn’t want to tell you I was so alone, the feeling was palpable…How badly I wanted to be held, have my hair stroked, someone to take my pain away…Face my issues dead-on, and not live in denial.
I can’t always be funny here, and I am not sure if you guys(by guys I mean guys and gals) even read what I write. Do I depress you when I am honest? Is it okay if I am not laugh out loud funny? If I surrender and put up a white flag, with the addition of a black flag, AM I DRAGGING YOU DOWN WITH ME??? I wish some of you would respond–something brief–one, two lines…Please tell me how I am doing…Yes, I am very insecure…And yes, I kinda fell for you guys…My job though is to write as the NYC Singleton that I am, which I do with too much honesty at times… Would you rather I am funnier and not talk about what I feel, when I feel, IF I FEEL???
Please let me know….
Awaiting your response….
Gigi, happy to be back with her friends.