The Bully Of My Dreams Is Giving Me Nightmares

Let me tell you about a little girl I used to know.

Tall, shy and awkward as hell. Couldn’t even make eye contact with her best friend. She also had an innate fear of the canteen lady and hated ‘lunch orders’ because that would mean the prospect of having to file in line to get her order filled while the other kids would tease her for looking like the BFG amongst a sea of hobbits.

This girl would be the brunt of everyones jokes and was outcasted for being “weird” and “having no friends”. A bookworm who “needed to come out of her shell more” cos she’d rather sit in the bathroom stalls at lunchtime rather than put up with the constant crap hurled from the schoolyard bullies.

Well, shock-horror that girl was me.

“Giraffe”, “Big Bird”, or just plain ole “Ugly” – I got called them all.

But when it came to the bullying, one kid was worse than all the others. His name was Jake* and he would pick on me from the moment I stepped foot through the school gates — and the cursing would even follow me home down the street where he’d ride his bicycle alongside his two just-as-mean wingmen and hurl out insults as my mum drove past with me slinking in shame/embarassment in the passenger seat.

I mean seriously, the guy was fierce! He’d even once referred to my legs as “cheese graters” because they were “so hairy you could grate cheese on them” — Brutal!

The taunting was petty. It was name-calling at best. But it didn’t mean it didn’t fuck me up.

Now, all these years down the track I still see Jake* in my head. Literally. For some reason I have been dreaming about the guy constantly.

I remembered it first started after my first real break-up after my first real relationship. (Now if Jake hadn’t alreday fucked me up, then this one would have — another story for another time)

I woke up thinking WTF after I had dreamt of chasing Jake through the streets of my hometown, screaming his name. And as soon as I caught up to him he’d turn to me and give a sly smile and then disappear.

These dreams continued for months.

It was really beginning to creep me out cos I imagined that it was some sort of dark prophecy or message that I should take heed of – that, or that I’m actually more delusional than I first thought.

But in every dream I’d be looking for Jake and sometimes when I finally did catch him, we’d embrace like childhood sweethearts.

After a year of these nightmares dreams, I figured the only logical thing to do was to do some real life Jake chasing. So I stalked him on Facebook.

Turns out he still lived in my hometown.. and grew handsome (I was secretly pissed cos you always hope that your childhood bullies grow up to be completely gross ‘no-hopers’ and working the bin disposal truck).

I debated adding him as a friend but then I thought of all the times he’d hurt me and how much I have suffered from his stupid childhood taunts that adding him as a ‘friend’ would seem vexed.

And then I realised.. why does it matter?

What good will I get from reaching out to him?

And then it dawned on me. My dreams represented my searching for an answer as to why he was so bloody MEAN to me!!

In a way, my need to let go of my past issues rested entirely on him. He was the source of all the shit that was to follow in those years of being socially retarded.

But what would I expect him to say if I did go ahead and confront him? He would probably not even remember me let alone the names he’d hurled at me in the 4th grade.

And then, ironically, just a couple of nights ago I had a dream where I did ask him why — and his reply still rings as clear as it would have if it were in real life:

I was a kid!”

It got me thinking that in a crazy, yet understandable way, I had been living with my issue and feeling held back all my life by who/what in the end…was only a kid!

I mean, if I were in the psych’s chair I’m sure we’d be having a breakthrough moment right now because it has taken me 15 years to realise that I’m letting an 11-year old boy from my past life dictate how I feel and how I act in my present.

But it also got me questioning.. say if I were to bump into Jake in the here and now — and if we discovered we even had some sort of attraction to one another – would it rid me of all these past hurts and fears? Would it be like some sort of resurrection in where my Judas becomes my Jesus?

Or would it not even change a thing? Are our limitations still deemed our own even if they were inflicted by someone else in the first place? And if not, does the inflictor have the power to take away our pain?

If I were to see Jake now, and if he’s changed as much as I have..would our new affection get rid of our past transgressions – or once a bully, always a bully?

Now I only wonder that if my new lightbulb dream moment means what I think it means, perhaps my subconscious will stop trying to figure shit out and I will stop dreaming about chasing Jake.

*Not real name, yet will disclose if I do happen to see him again and he still happens to continue calling me “pimple face”



“You Used To Be Sexy”

So I got ‘dick pic’d’ today – and sadly, it wasn’t the first time.

Facebook has made way for some wonderful things; communicating with friends, keeping in touch with distant relatives, Candy Crush.. but with it comes the real possibility of ending up with a penis in your inbox.

You are probably questioning my choice of friends or associates as you read this. Why would you keep someone who sends dick selfies on your friends list? The real question would be – why would a friend (or anyone!) send a dick pic in the first place?

Opening my laptop, clicking on the Facebook tab and seeing Inbox(1) has given way to a whole new meaning of private messaging.

This morning, when I almost dropped my phone in anxious panic trying to click out of the page in flustered fear that my fellow gym-goers would lean over and see the horror of which I had been witness to, I had near fallen off my (stationary) bike which would have given way to both a damaged ego and a rude awakening that perhaps now is the time to clear my friends list..or stop checking Facebook in the gym.

The thing that most struck me was that this “General and two Colonels” had ambushed me without heed or warning – no message or foresight, nope — just foreskin.

I told my girlfriend about the unexpected suprise and was shocked to hear her say “Oh yeah, I’ve had heaps of those”. She even went on to say that such perils of peen don’t even cause her to raise an eyebrow, that in a way, the unexpected visit of Mr.Winky should be seen as a modern mating ritual, designed to make us damsels lifes easier because “at least you know exactly what he’s looking for”.

But this got me thinking.. why, in modern society, has it become normal to snap a picture of ones privates and send it to someone as freely as you would a “Hello” or “How have you been?”

Why is it, that we’ve resorted to sending pics of dick to make clear our intentions to get lucky? Have we entered a new realm of test-drive dating, where it is perfectly acceptable – and encouraged – to ‘try before you buy’?

And why – oh GOD WHY – did I happen to be the receiver of such a crude call for coitus?

When did private messaging turn into messaging your privates?

The worst thing is that because of Facebooks (inconvenient) ‘seen’ feature, you literally have to see to un-see.

So I opened the message, using my peripherals to help guide my focus on the ‘close window’ button, not quickly enough to catch myself glancing again at the peen in question (a girls gotta be curious) and I’m glad to say that it was nothing revolutionary. But is there really such thing as a ‘good looking’ penis anyway?

Well thanks to Facebooks handy (inconvenient) little ‘seen’ feature, Mr Dick-pic-happy had seen that I would have seen his special greeting at approximately 10:08am, cos he then followed up with a message that read: “Are you still an innocent lil girl? ;)”

I chortled at this – I never use the phrase ‘chortle’ but I think it depicts the scenario perfectly – because the last time I saw this person was when I was innocent – an innocent! Seriously, I may have been only 13 and still experimenting with those ghastly paint pots described as ‘Fashion Makeup’ which comes with the ‘Make-me-over’ Barbie.

While there was many of quip comebacks entering my mind (most to do with size of penis — i.e. small) I ignored. I mean come on, if his intentions was to arouse my arousal, then the guy is headed for territory ‘blue balls’.. a damsel doesn’t get randy if a guy is literally throwing his dick in your face while your doing your daily spin (no matter what the pornos tell you).

But the next message hit hard and full-frontal.

“You know, you used to be sexy..”

Excuse me, what?

So I said, “What do you mean by used to?” (dick picks and smutty attempts at gaining my arousal I can ignore, but implying that I am no longer sexy ain’t happening)

He then ventures on to (state the freaking obvious) say, “You don’t seem very naughty miss”

Well let me see here… because you decided that you were horny and wanting sex, you thought that you would take a picture of your freshly shaven flesh flute and send it to some girl on your friends list who would, upon seeing mr happy, engage in turn just as enthusiastically and would then respond in like with dirty talk which would then result in a hot and steamy conversation on Facebook which may lead to actual real life sex..

But because his little plan of peen didn’t turn out the way that he wanted, and because I have more self-respect than to engage in this fucked up concept of flirting and ‘hook up culture’, I am no longer sexy.

Well if un-sexting makes me un-sexy, then I am un-friending!



Ghost Of Boyfriends Past

I find it conveniently timed that my first Blog post coincides with an unexpected (and unwanted) trip down memory lane.

Most of us have a couple of ‘skeletons in the closet’ — so far buried behind a mass of clothes and unopened shoe boxes that we even forget they’re still there.

But in this instance, as I was searching for a silk mint green cami within the throngs of clothes and hangers, I had unknowingly left open an escape route for a ghost of boyfriends past.

As old and discarded as my novelty vintage ‘Minnie Mouse’ tee, he brought up the same feelings of when one may find an old cami they’d long forgotten about or the dress that had been worn only once on a special night out, to then later be stored away in a protective slip and hung on the far corner of your closet.

I wore this specific dress once. It came after a long and hurtful break up and it offered me a sense of hope and comfort, it made me look and feel good. But then, like many new dresses bought and only worn for a specific occasion, by night the fit had slacked, the straps began to fray and I couldn’t wait to get it off.

So I stored it away in the back of my closet. Not knowing that one day I may stumble across it while moving the old in place of the new.

Now, with my experience of ghosts, it is clear that they’re most often searching for one of either two things – to finish unfinished business, or.. to simply lurk.

It is necesary for us to perform a sort of spirit cleansing ritual to rid this ghost in order to be able to move on with our lives, otherwise it will keep on haunting us to the point that it will eventually seep into every aspect of our being.

And let’s get real – holding on to the past is never good for us damsels who want to move vibrantly and passionately forward into the arms of someone more deserving of swooping in and rescuing us.

So here’s my top tips for performing a ghost-of-boyfriends-past excorcism:

  1. Acknowledge the ghost and what lessons they are bringing with them – Are they testing your character? Is it a sign that there’s still some loose ends to tie? Can it be a lesson to not give into temptation? Have you or have they changed since the last time you both had an encounter? In what ways? What does this say about you and where you currently stand in your life?
  2. Reclaim your space. Assess how this ghost makes you feel. If they are turning your inner sanctuary into a morgue rather than a haven, put your foot down and shove them out. (Note: Tell them “thanks but no thanks” “I’ve moved on” or “I’ve found someone” (it doesn’t hurt to white lie on this one!)
  3. Ignore. All texts, Facebook messages, emails.
  4. Delete. All texts, Facebook messages, emails.
  5. Ignore. When you stop reacting to the constant spooks and scares, eventually the ghost will get bored and move on to haunt someone more worthy of their time and energy.

Now if your ghost is more Casper than Bloody Mary, you may look at this unexpected invitation as a hope to bridge past and present. Perhaps you left someone you really liked high and dry as maybe you were in the wrong place or the wrong time.. Maybe you didn’t give this ghost much of a chance back then cos you were too busy being a bad ass babe but now that he’s reappeared you feel it could be a good opportunity to give whatever it is you had a chance.

In this case, go forward with caution. It is in my opinion that the past is best left right where it was – in the past. But if you feel in your heart that opening the door to the other side will only bring positivity to you then get out that Ouija board and start communicating!