Stiva’s Q and A

With a bonus question from Mary elkhound.

I know I said that I was going to include the questions in my ME post (which, I promise, is coming soon) but then Stiva went and asked some really good questions that require a more in depth answer than, say, “my favorite color is yellow”. And if I didn’t put the questions and answers into their very own post, we’d all be here all day and you’d lose interest, no doubt, because really…who wants to read something that long all about janetk?

So, this is kinda like part one of the ME post (which, I promise, is coming soon…no really).

Hey Stiva…do I have to answer them in order? Well, too fucking bad, I’m just going to roll the way that I want to. Ha. Be grateful I’m not writing it all in French!

Ahem. Sorry. Here we go. For real this time.

Question number one:

“Why is the sky blue?”

Well, you already said that you * know * why the sky is blue and that the question was a trick question which, I think, is your way of gauging how smart or how dumb I am. I’ll take care of that for you right now…

I’m not that smart.

I do know why the sky is blue, however, but you already know the answer so…

I asked Kate.

Just for fun. Cuz the world could use more Kate-isms. Here’s what she said:

Me: “Kate! Kate! Come here! I wanna ask you something!”

Kate: “WHAT?!”

Me: “Come here!”

Kate: “WHY?!”

Me: “I wanna ask you something, I said!”

Kate runs to the half wall in the dining room.

Kate: “What did you say, Mommy?”

Me: “I want to ask you a question and I want you tell me what you really think, okay?”

Kate: “’Kay.”

Me: “Kate, why is the sky blue?”

Kate: “What guy?”

Me: “No. The * sky *, Kate. Why is the sky blue?”

Kate: “Oh. Because when it rains, the rain sticks to the sky so the sky stays blue.”

Moving on…

Question number two:

What is your favorite flavor of ice cream?

This is probably the hardest question Stiva asked because the truth is that ice cream is, by far, hands down, my most favorite food in the whole wide world. So narrowing down a favorite flavor is pretty hard since there are so many delightful variations on the stuff. But I’d have to go with mint chocolate chip. And not fudgy mint or mint and chocolate swirlies or anything, either. There’s something about the chips mixed in with the green ice cream…oooh…now I’m getting a craving.

Must be time to move on, then!

Question number three:

“I thought women didn’t like porn. But you do. What’s with that?”

I’ve mentioned a few times on my blog that my thoughts on porn and my conclusions on porn in general is really a book in the making, not a blog post. So, I’ll try my very, very best to keep this as short as possible. No guarantees, though.

First of all, I don’t think it’s fair to say that generally, women don’t like porn. Most porn (the bulk of it, anyway) isn’t aimed at a female audience. Their target demographic is not women. So, it’s almost like women aren’t given a running start.

Secondly, if you had asked me that question a year ago, you would have gotten a very different answer than you’re about to receive from a very different kind of girl than the one writing this out now. Because I used to like porn. Quite a bit, actually. I didn’t watch it all that frequently, but there was (is) a pretty good stash in the back of my closet. I’m really fond of gay porn because, quite frankly, the men in gay porn are WAY better looking and WAY better built than the men in straight porn and watching two men make out is just plain hot. But I also liked straight porn. I was a big fan of Belladonna’s, preferred my porn with a side of raunchy and was no stranger to the cum shot. There’s a decent amount of girl on girl porn crowded in with the rest of it in the back of the closet, too, and I equally enjoyed a good orgy. Pretty versatile, I suppose. And no, it never really made me feel uncomfortable, for the most part. I liked it while I was alone, I watched with my husband. I didn’t (and don’t) blush going into the porn store. And I wasn’t shy about telling people that I liked porn.

I liked porn and felt okay with it until I met and fell in love with a man who had a very, very unhealthy relationship with pornography. He has given me permission to write whatever I like to on the subject but after some careful thought, I’ve decided that it’s really his story to tell, should he choose to do so. Suffice it to say that porn really fucked Don up in many ways. And once we started talking about the ins and outs of it (no pun intended), I could no longer look at porn the same way.

It’s very important for Don to stay away from porn and because of that, I stay away from it, as well. I still find it very fascinating, however and hope to someday research it even further than I already have, mostly just for personal information. I’m very fascinated by fetishes, where they stem from, what form they take, how they affect people, etc. And I can’t quite seem to stay away from the “Bizarre” tab on a porn site.

This is not a judgement against anyone else, at all. But for me, the conclusion is that porn is always degrading…sometimes for the people in it but more often than that, for the person watching. I fooled myself for decades into believing that I was somehow healthier than other people for being able to stomach porn and for actually enjoying it. I truly believed that by embracing it, I was working towards a healthier sense of sexuality and healing from a past peppered heavily with sexual abuse and rape. I didn’t realize that porn had fucked me up, too.

And lastly, I’m not an average girl. This is why the porn store doesn’t make me blush and why porn never did, either. I cringe at the term, “making love”, hate rose petals and soft music and have fewer limits sexually than many women I know. That probably would have been a better answer than the rambling paragraphs preceding it.

Right. So that means it’s time to move on already! I told you I couldn’t make any guarantees!

Question number four:

“How did I know I was done with Rocky?”

First of all, you stumped me on that one because it took forever for me to figure out who Rocky was. I use fake names in my blog. Rock is really Troy. And I’ve never made a nickname out of his fake name so I was confused. I already told you that I’m not that smart.

Well, most people think that I was done with Rock when I fell in love with Don. And some people believe that Don and I were having an affair (hi!). But the truth is that the split between Rock and I was a long time coming.

Things changed between us when I got pregnant with my son, Michael. He wasn’t a planned pregnancy (both of our girls were) and in actuality, Rock was scheduled for a vasectomy when I found out I was pregnant. I can actually look back and watch the demise of relationship start from the moment I walked out of the bathroom, holding a positive pregnancy test. Everything changed.

Now, I know that Rock loves his son now. But he fell out of love with his life, starting right then and there. Michael was a very difficult pregnancy (I had a complete placenta previa) that ended with a traumatic birth that was the beginning of what we’re going through now. When Michael was born, it was like Rock had no choice but to step up to the plate and be the Daddy everyone expected him to be. Michael’s birth forced a lot of us out of our head space.

But it wasn’t enough to shock Rock into wanting the life he had created.

Rock has said to me that he never fell out of love with me…he just fell out of love with the life we had together. It used to make me angry and scared because I can’t change having three children. It used to make me really terrified because I had lost my comrade. I was doing everything alone, my husband wanted little to do with me and I didn’t know what I had done wrong and yet, I was too busy to even wonder whether or not I was happy with what * I * had. And I was too scared to even think about doing it alone. I would have done anything to keep Rock around, even if he didn’t want to be there.

Once thing settled down with Michael somewhat, I could gain my focus again and actually allow myself time to think about what I was feeling. And I found myself very, very unhappy. Like I was living a lie for everyone else and I was too far gone, it seemed, to make much of a change.

And then I met Don. And my world was turned upside down. And what I had been settling for suddenly felt suffocating. And there was this person who could see through me. The old masks didn’t work any more. And then I decided that I wanted more. I deserved to be happy. And I could do it alone, if need be. He made me feel comfortable in my own skin. And he wanted the life that I had. That’s the thing… Rock might have had regrets about the choices he made and he might have had the desire to be a single person again, but I never did and I still don’t. I did enough living in a short amount of time…I have no desire to return to that. But that’s another post entirely.

The thing about feeling happy is that it sometimes casts new light on what is making you unhappy. Suddenly, what you were settling for isn’t enough. And it becomes downright stifling. That’s when I knew it was time for Rock to actually leave the house. That and his lifestyle was starting to really, really interfere with my life and the lives of my children.

And that’s that, I guess. I don’t know that I fell out of love with Rock, which isn’t to say that I’m still in love with him. It’s a tricky thing to explain. I think we just grew out of one another. And I think I needed to finally be honest with myself and about myself.

Which is another, another post so I’m moving on!

Question number, um, where are we? This is getting to be long! And we’re only, like halfway there. One more and I think I’ll post it and finish it up tomorrow.

Right. Question number five:

“How did you and Don meet?”

See… this is why it’s especially weird that Stiva and I never read one another.

We met on Blogster.

Don has Cerebral Palsy. At that time, the neo-natologists at the children’s hospital thought that Michael might have CP. And so Don became an instant sounding board for what was going on with my baby. He was willing to answer questions and listen to my fears and my concerns. We had an instant connection because of Michael.

And then we started chatting about other things. Discovered we had a lot in common. Don had some major issues to be worked through and so did I and we somehow did that together. It was very messy and very strange. We are both very “complicated” people. A while ago, Don said that we were the only people who could handle one another and that seemed to fit perfectly.

And then, one night last November, we were talking on the phone. Don had had a few too many and told me that he “thought about me when he came”. And that, of course, changed everything.

We’ve put each other through the ringer on more than one occasion. Like I said, we’re both very fucked up for very different reasons and it was very, very messy at times. But we just…hmmm…fit.

And now, before I launch into the breastfeeding question, I’m going to post this. My fingers hurt and I’m sure you’ve fallen asleep by now.

WAKE UP!