(and i am one funny freaking bitch. i'm not being an attention whore, for once. this and Part One are a polished chapter of my memoir in progess, Prozac On Paws: The Tale of Three Spayed Females, about recovering from agoraphobia with the help of service dogs for invisible disabilities/psychiatric disabilities in particular. so i'm trying to do a shitload of good, guys. i'm not just demanding attention for no reason. this time, anyway. :)
this is what i looked like back then, if you haven't read part one or my Scanned Pics post. i was hawt. i'll try to find photos where i'm wearing fewer clothes. it helps to have a visual when you're asking people to read about you having sex and such.
me back then, with one of my Gays and holding Algernon, my pet rat who became famous around the world for a bit there. not kidding at all.
me with Algernon on my left foot. she would soon climb up my body and sit on my shoulder and go click, click, click, which is purring for ratlettes.)
okay, now, here we go.
LOSING MY LOOKS, PART TWO
(to read Part One, please go here or just scroll down from this one. i'm going to be doing more re-posting because i have a lot of new readers, whom i adore, and because the people who've read these before seem to still find them extremely entertaining!!!
open.salon.com/blog/theodora_lengle_knight/2009/10/10/will_somebody_feed_linked_to_this_old_one_its_my_fave
hope this works!)
Okay, so I was talking about my version of the rules. Over time I developed Rules for dating and for sex. Certain patterns began to emerge as I went out and about. One night at the Crush Club, my girlfriend and I were ecstatically dancing to Shout. "A little bit faster now…", just having a blast. Very young men kept cutting in and my gal pal began to notice a pattern.
“The guys that like you keep getting younger and shorter. Does Michael J. Fox have younger brothers?”
Hence, My Rules: Older men and even some around my age didn’t have much stamina or ability, so the rule was that they had to invest in Viagra when things were not looking up, shit, if it was even around back then. And older guys were always looking for my goddamn G-spot. As close as I could figure it, my G-spot was in Mexico somewhere, having lunch. Taking a long vacation. It STILL calls me occasionally, from the Yucatan Peninsula, just to say hello. I say, "Hi, G. How's it going? Use sunscreen."
The much younger men did have energy and it certainly was flattering (although some of it was just about my being 5'3" and them being shortish -- ditto with some older guys, of course.), but many of them didn't know anything about female anatomy (the non-G-spot spot), and I was no Dr. Ruth. Not to mention that I had another strict rule: I wouldn’t date anyone I could have given birth to, no one who could have been my son. That just seemed very tacky.
My other rule, it being L.A. and the film and tv industries and all, was that I wouldn’t date anyone prettier than me. Please, I did not want anyone using the mirror more than I did. I broke this one more than I'd like to admit. I enjoy beauty as much as the next person. Well, maybe even a bit more, and there were so many pretty pretty men back then and there. (More about this later. Probably in Part Three. I know, I'm a huge tease.)
******
All of the dating and sex and sharing my space crap brought up for me the sanctity of sleeping alone. My bed was my favorite place in the world and still is. It wasn’t a safe or secure one for me when I was a kid. Too much chaos in the house. It was more of a target zone – a place where they could find me and flip out about whatever or do whatever. Since then, it’s been a major refuge and hang-out. It’s got to feel like home with a capital H.
I got one of those foam mattress pads with the indentations; the ones that look like a bed of nails designed by Disney. It felt like heaven. I bought those wonderful T-shirt sheets in magenta and cobalt blue. The ones that Oprah recommended many years ago. Like sleeping inside a worn-to-silk giant undershirt. Thread count was not my thing, I don't think it was yet a huge deal back then. Thank God for small blessings. T-shirt sheets were affordable and my Companions seemed to enjoy them.
The number of men whom I liked enough to attempt a rela-tionship with who also liked me was statistically insignificant. 'Hos are not that into settling down. It's too bad I'd been alone so long between the being divorced and then being around too many gay men and Much Bigger Assholes because I had "mad skills", as the kids say now, and it would have been kind of cool to share my whipped cream, chocolate sauce, flavored edible body lotions, crotchless panties, garter belts and fishnet stockings with someone I might have actually loved a little. Remember, my body was awesome back then. Even the pretty men thought so, although one asshole, young of course, told me that I must have had a hellacious body when I was 16. I told him, "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. No woman over 10 wants to be compared to her former body."
There were brief times in my six years in L.A. during which I had twinges about being so "active", especially when I had a bladder infection from too vigorous f---ing or from someone being a bit too well-endowed -- there truly is such a thing, boys. I even went to Sex Addicts Anonymous a few times because a 12-stepper I know kept nagging me, but it was mostly gay men back then, who were literally afraid for their lives, so it was clear it wasn't my problem.
I considered other options at those times. One day I saw a gang of contented looking and very large dykes at Home Depot -- I was thinking, shit, I could eat what I like and wouldn't have to wear make-up. -- and was propositioned by a cute gay women who called herself Uncle Mary. So I decided to become a lesbian. Didn’t really think it through all the way though, I’m afraid. After two weeks I realized that I’d forgotten to be attracted to any women. Kind of missed the little man in the boat, so to speak. So it turned out I was a complete failure at being a lesbian.
Then there were just the periods during which I didn't meet anyone I desired or vice versa. Thank goodness I believed in being my own best friend, or I'd have turned into one of those nasty bitches whom everyone says just needs a good f--- since I was in heat much of that time. (See paragraph about pretty men. )
Instead I developed a great relationship with my vibrator. We disagreed about politics -- he was a republican and it got really old after a while, but other than that we got along just fine. My poor vibrator. I bought it at the Pleasure Chest on Santa Monica Boulevard when I was researching a screenplay about a woman MBA inheriting a legal brothel in Nevada. Too bad I was never able to sell that piece -- HIV and AIDs were rampant, but shit, the legal places had the girls checked every week. It was pretty clever.
My new best pal was bright red and not anatomically correct. The top was always falling off even though one of my companions supposedly glued it back on. He prided himself on his skill with electronics, among other things.
I've always been very environmentally correct, so I had re-chargeable C batteries. I had to constantly recharge the damn things. And you had to wait until they completely ran out of energy to recharge them, so I was often left to my own devices, so to speak, while that was happening. I should have stopped being so cheap and gotten another set of recharge-ables, but I was in major denial about how much I used the damn thing. I kept musing about Mr. Right: an adorable (not more than me, of course) blind 30-year-old -- I could tell him I was a Perfect Blond and he wouldn't know the difference -- old enough to not be my son, of course, with an exquisite sense of touch and an oral fixation. He'd have had a seeing eye dog, too, of course. I’d loved dogs since I'd known Shady Lady, my childhood pal, even though she got sprayed by every skunk she ever met.
The thing I wasn’t factoring in was the whole Age and Looks issue popping up overnight. I was pushing 40, as my cop brother so daintily put it to me. Fuck him though. I was 36. Then a good friend of mine from back east came to see me , primped her Prada (was there Prada back then?-encased brow-listed-self in the hallway mirror, and announced, “It’s too bad we’re losing our looks."
Fuckin’ A! We? I was not 40. I had not resorted to facial surgery, except for my desperately needed nose job. Plus I was thin, for me, sexy and youthful since I've always been very very immature. (Not to mention that she’d said the same thing to me when we were turning 30; this was getting a little old.)
My friend saying that we were losing our looks could not have come at a worse time. I was enjoying my physical self immensely, for Christ's sake. So I said to my Pucci’d Gucci’d friend, more testily than I’d planned, “I am not remotely ready to lose my looks. Shit, man, I just found them recently! So you go ahead and “lose your looks” if you want. Just f---ing do it without me.” She just stared at me. Apparently, liking myself and the work I was doing and my activities gave me a bit of an attitude.
The truth is I wasn’t kidding about enjoying my looks before I lost them. I will always be bitter I had them for such a relatively short time (people still tell me that I'm cute/pretty/beautiful, gorgeous (those visually impaired characters again) but after fifty no one gives you a second glance. Actually, it's even sadder than that. I was walking down the street the other day with my stunningly adorable little service dogs and a guy came by and smiled the smile I used to enjoy so much. I smiled back and then quickly realized that he was smiling at my dogs! God can be such a shithead sometimes. I'd asked him for some attention from single Grandpas, not MORE attention for my wonderpups.
So the having my looks not so long was another bone of contention between me and God. We are always bickering about one thing or another. After the Pucci'd encounter, I felt like asking everyone I saw, “Have you seen my looks anywhere? Please let me know if spot them.” The way things have always gone between me and God, my Looks were and are probably in Mexico somewhere, having lunch with my G-spot.
Another fantastic post - thank you.
I particularly loved this: “I am not remotely ready to lose my looks. Shit, man, I just found them recently! So you go ahead and “lose your looks” if you want. Just f---ing do it without me.” I think I will add that to the list of Interesting Things I Memorize So I Am Still An Entertaining Dinner Party Guest Even After I Lose My Looks: the Alec Baldwin speech in GlenGary Glen Ross (What's my name? My name is Fuck You, that's my name."), the Al Pacino speech in that law-y movie ("I have just completed my opening statement."), the Jack Nicolson speech ("What if this is as good as it gets?What if it never gets any better?"), "How Do I Love Thee" by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
(I'm gushing, it's ridiculous!)
I think you will quickly build a fan club here. So keep regaling us with your stories.
I'm older than you and understand the feeling of becoming invisible. It does have some charms, like you can wear anything because nobody notices much.
Look forward to more!
I spent my 20's in a similar way, although I never lost anything but my mind in Mexico. Welcome! Keep sharing, please!
But I’ll have to remember to only read you @home. When I laugh out loud (at things like a vibrator that disagrees w/you on politics), my assistant usually asks what’s so funny...
!!!!!! lost looks or not theo, which is kind of a judgment call anyway, you've got a way with a funny line! one thing i can count on when i read one of your posts, even the ones where you're a little upset, is that you'll make me laugh.
This needs to be explained to many, many people. This is ssssssssssssoooooooo important!!
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Comments
Next time G calls from Mexico, pass along my regards, and ask if it's seen mine lounging on a beach with a margarita anywhere, would ya? :-)
Hi Theodora! I love seeing all your mad skillz coming back to you.
Okay, that is seriously funny!
I will comment more later but this is a great post, and RATED.
And this, this can not be topped:
>>As close as I could figure it, my G-spot was in Mexico somewhere, having lunch. Taking a long vacation. It STILL calls me occasionally, from the Yucatan Peninsula, just to say hello. I say, "Hi, G. How's it going? Use sunscreen.
Cassandra!!! i love you for coming here, love. Humor is my way of battling all that ails me, well, of still existing. thank you for recognizing it. when im' putting something like this together, i am far from depressed. i get endorphins from writing so everyone who reads my stuff is helping me heal from physical and mental illnesses!!! love love love!!
YO!!! oh, i love that Cleo came to check out the big noise of you laughing. please apologize to her for me. there's a story i need to share about making Dave Barry laugh at a writers conference by telling him that i had a beef with him because when i read his stuff, in bed, with animals on top of me, i would laugh so hard that said critters would be pissed of at me. thank you for telling me this. i makes my day!!! love love love
Oh, chuck, love, you are the best in the world. i adore you, as you know. you're the third person, after Dvcdickens and psychomama to suggest the one woman show. of courswe that would be my dream come true and i love you for giving me such big big props for this piece. i mean, shit, i've done standup comedy, ik'm not afraid of audiences and.... we'll see. i may just start going to poetry readings or something. thank you for this great support, again!!!! love love love!!!
oh my aim!!! so happy to see you here always. i love that i have mad skilz like the young people. i love that, sweetheart. love love love!
oh, shit my Roger!! you always love parts that i love, that don't necessarily stand out for other readers. i LOVE the Lesbian bit too. very much. especially since it's extremely true. there is more about Uncle Mary too. she completley fucked me over when she house-sat for me while i was having a hysterectomy. awful awful awful and part of why i became agoraphobic because of fearing people. love love love!
SuznMaree!! i adore you for going above and beyond and reading my old posts, girl. i feel like i benefited from you getting fired and i would neve rwant that. hey, please PM me and tell me which old posts you think bear a re-posting. there's so much stuff that i wrote previously that i think my newere readers would love love love.
Cocoa!!!! this is how i spell Cocoa Chanel's name. my gorgeous wonderpup. she looked like a little cocoa bean in her litter and/or a tiny chocolate lab. so i love you automatically. thank you for enjoying the humor. i live to make people laugh. and myself, of course. i find myself endlessly entertaining. lvoe love love!
Where exactly in Mexico? Maybe I'll make a road trip.
Rated enthusiastically.
Aiiiieeeeeee!
and Boan!!! my g-spot is in Cozumel, i think. i'll get you deets later. love love love
and i will catch up with eveyrone else who has cfommented, especially if you mentionthat i should do a one woman show or be published in France.
Pamela!!!! (what did you spend your 15 minute scanner time on, girl?) you are turning into one of my major cheerleaders and godiverse knows that i desperately need you guys. i wrote with partners in L.A. and also when i was writing plays in ventura, ca. you and the others are like my virtual partners and i could NOT be more grateful. love love love
Tinkerbelle! i'm so happy that you're well enough to come by and read about my vacationing g-spot! love love love!
Scan Man, i LOVE that you found me. i always love seeing you here. you're one fo those whom i know has my back and i'm so freaking grateful. and great posts, man!! love love love
You tell 'im!!! I had to read this again. Soooo worth it!
Rated
Scoubi! shit, man, you're being a really good friend and i'm so grateful. i love your comments. i will right more about Algernon and about the class with all the cats and how it was a slow news week and an l.a. times reporter wrote about the class with the rat. and that led to ET coming and then German tv and japanese tv and more... i have the video of one of the tapings. Algie stands on a cat. she was so brave. love lvoe love and big gratitude
oh Siren Girl!! i love you coming here. i love your comments. and i really love that so many people are liking the Home Depot scene. i loved writing it. Owl says im' an honorary lesbian now. i'm very proud. thanks for saying that i haven't lost my looks. i'm learnign to be more forgiving of my face and my body and just accept that Bipolar means you have to choose between fat and sane or thin and whacko. oh, and i finally COLORED MY HAIR RED. in didn't leave it on long enough so you can't see it from space. it's a darker red, kind of highlighting with the brown. i love it. and i love you. love love love and graatitude
Rated
"I am not remotely ready to lose my looks. Shit, man, I just found them recently!" This is fabulous.
good for you. deep stuff but still fun.
Very funny! It is worth a reread!
oh Deborah!!! thank you, girl, for getting here when you're so freaking busy. i know, i'm really proud of this chapter, this part and part one. i'm so happy that you like it too. love lvoe lvoe
Thank you, Denese!!! this is a polished chapter that i wrote earlier on, so i'm not necessarily on but i love that you enjoyed it. i'm delighted that it's holding up for a second read by those who read it before. love love love
oh, Mamoore, i adore you and you writing, love. yes, this is one facet of me, for sure. the in your face stuff. i miss having a sex drive. it was my motivation for getting out and about. now, with the agoraphobia and the immune disorders, not so much. but you guys are really helping me build my confidencen back and that, i'm told, is sexy!!! love love love!!!
and gratitude for all of you!
Scanner!!!! i love seeing you here. i LOVE that you are ass-less because of laughing with my post! that's a huge compliment, love. love love lvoe!
NoFrillsDevil!!! i love that your name changes all the time. i hope you've rested up from all the work on the house. this is an old post but i do feel like i'm on my way back to my funniest Voice. love love love!
oh god, i'm trying to thank everyone but i'm extremely disoriented. it's a bad brain damage day. but i'm so grateful for all of you coming by and pointing out what you like about this!! it's a blessing because i needed reassurance that this is indeed a half of a chapter!
Natalie, what sweet things to say. i may have been okay looking before but all those comments about my nose and my very oily skin and the acne, well, it was brutal. i was much better with myself once i'd had the nose job and the lipo. i'm not kidding around in part one, i really did those things and htye helped enormously. i wasn't that much prettier but i felt pretty! and that was a big deal. now? i'm learning to accept myself at this fatitude, sloowly. and some of the weight is coming off gradually, which is best. it's not easy for any women to feel good about herself when she really starts to age. you'll see, love. it's a challenge, one you have to work on every day. but mostly i do pretty well. i can see that im' cute in my way. what is so hard is being invisible to most people, no matter how you dress or how cute you feel you are. it's astounding how older women just disappear. not to me, but to people in general. love love lvoe and gratitude. as you can see, im' focusing on my writing and not on my looks. :)