Same rules still apply from this post: please, just between friends, this is just about me.
The context: I think I must be repeating myself. I have been removed and blocked by someone else. I can only guess at the reasons.
Right, I can take a hint… although a hint is all that I'm getting. But out goes both of them. And I don't like that. I don't like things ending badly, but if they don't want to talk to me anymore, okay… I guess that's that.
Here's where the really sensitive part starts. But please, I say this only to frame my point of view. And again, this is why I shy away from posting very much (if at all) about the following topics:
And it is a case of #2. I don't care if it's classified as art, "erotica", or "pornography". If it's something that sparks a reaction that is troublesome for me– if it's triggering– well, it is. Now, there have been a few in the Neighborhood (maybe a few of you dear readers reading right now) that have posted a picture or two that has been on the racy or slightly risqué side. But no… be at peace… I'm not speaking of you.
It is easy enough to ignore the occasional picture– but when it's, say, weekly… well, that sort of regularity is difficult to ignore.
Suffice it to say, but… I thought an understanding had been reached. Just like in the last post, it was a joke that had gone too far, too far and had poked me in a painful spot. I made my intentions clear, and stated that I was uncomfortable. The response was more than I expected, but I breathed a sigh of relief… the pictures were gone. Perhaps I did wrong in making my identity known when things were explained publicly, but I wanted to be clear that I was ready to be fully accountable for my own feelings and thoughts.
Now, don't get me wrong, this person continued to ask for my input, and I answered as best I could without seeming too imposing. But… then I was blocked, and all of the old pictures were back.
Now… the really, really sensitive part. You are most welcome to stop reading if you wish, because it's really painful for me here.
My mother and father exposed themselves to me when I was six years old, in the interest of sexual education. Yes, as in they showed me the parts on themselves. I had very little understanding of what was going on, what it was supposed to mean, how it was relevant, and so on. And my mother especially was aggressive about pointing things out. I was young, curious, and I couldn't understand why my hand kept getting slapped.
It didn't help that when the more I understood it all, the more tight-lipped my parents became… probably more so my father. At the time, it seemed like a sense of modesty went up all of sudden– well, more at different times for each of them, but what had been dumped so thoroughly in my lap became shameful and taboo.
And I reacted much like many abused people do. I won't harrow your minds with the details… they just get worse.
Perhaps the two are angry with Cimmorene, and with her recent rant. Now I was worried about her strident tone, but… that's really how she can be when she gets frustrated, and yet, even if it was not the epitome of manners, she took full accountability for her opinions being hers. So if it's a case of guilt by association by any means, well, I find that petty. She's her own woman. Yes, she's married to me, but she's her own woman. She's wearing the big girl pants just fine, if you get my meaning.
Why yes, I do happen to agree with her– it's just a cutting the crap, no beating around the bush, no-nonsense way she puts things. No, not terribly diplomatic, but it was quite clear.
The fallout was still petty. People I thought I had trusted. People I thought had understood. I guess not. But life goes on. I'll forget about it eventually, even if it takes me ages longer before they do. I hold very bad grudges when I do hold them, even for years, but I assure you isn't usually not likely… and… if you were in my shoes, would you blame me? Really?
I will do my best to handle it with grace and dignity, and try to do my best to be above reproach. And yes, I should get over it.
But that hurt.