How we met.

On a whim I moved to Santa Monica from Bellingham Washington.  The person I moved in with turned out to be a pervert, his gentleman-ness as a house mate was short lived.  The first day we went roller blading on the beach.  I felt out of my element.  The daylight was blinding reflected from the yellow beach.  There were cheesy shirtless body builders, creative kids tagging walls, silicone beach bunnies.  I went to a raw food eatery and tried to get to know my friend better.  He didn’t want to be friends and began making very uncomfortable suggestions.  I’ll be open with you.  I refused an intimacy because naturally I am not a hoe.  We were supposed to be house mates!  The moment he asked me if he could jerk off to me while I was sleeping I was out the door!  I had forgotten my keys to my suitcase in Washington, it had to be broken into, so after I purchased a new one I was on the first greyhound bus back to San Jose, CA.  Before I had lived here working at motorcycle dealerships and music stores and had a former co-worker as a contact, so we moved in together.

I set up an online profile specifically stating I did not want to be contacted for dating.  My years prior had been spent in activism, animal rights, welfare, educational outreach, animal rehabilitation volunteer work, working with the Fish & Wildlife department, practicing environmentalism, working with state-wide organizations and setting up my own branches within the county.  I wanted to re-establish contacts and had naively imagined you can make anything happen no matter where you are.  I looked fresh off the boat Russian, knowing nothing about beauty, vanilla, wearing an 80s punk Betsey Johnson dress and appearing excessively youthful and natural.  I wandered around doing some peaceful protesting at local circuses and the primate institute, making trips to Martin Luther King Jr. Library’s animal right section frequently.  

I was contacted by a boy, he sent me some photos, we met that day after exchanging e-mails and a phone call.  My cute fetish is swing sets, I know how to do tricks on them, so there I was with my shoulder cut outs, washed out denim being smitten to pieces unexpectedly and all of a sudden.  

At this time I was contacted to finish competing in Miss Hawaiian Tropics regionals.  I was the representative for my region.  I had entered for 2 reasons, the first was to attempt to win funds to begin a veterinary technician course, the 2nd was because my best friend at the time was a narcissistic supermodel wanna-be and used to constantly put me down for being short, so I did want to prove her wrong a lil bit.  My personal belief is that personality and a good heart can take you further than an empty and somewhat attractive shell.  So, I got a very fake tan, smokey eye make-up, beige glossy lips, entered and did okay, I was awkward and super natural and down to earth, almost homely.  Again I was out of my element, surrounded by long flat ironed hair and boob jobs, but I got personality:)  I drove up to Washington with my housemate to finishing competing in this ridiculous competition.  He had friends he’d been wanting to visit up there so we made some friendly detours.  I met some lovely girls and my friend ended up leaving me in Washington during the competition without informing me.  Now there is a good explanation for this, you’ll get the gist of it shortly.  

Can I do anything without something not going as planned?  Well, I didn’t win, big surprise there, and took a plane back to San Jose.  I grew up with guns, my father was a gunsmith, so I truly love them, somewhere I’d found a stray bullet, it reminded me of home, so I pocketed it as a memento.  At the airport after going through the metal detectors I was taken aside by security into a little room and interviewed.  I completely forgot I had this bullet, it was after 9/11, so they questioned me about my intentions.  I innocently explained to them about my forgetfulness, why I had it and they let me go, they realized you can’t cause massive harm with a spent bullet shell and no gun.  Having a Kalashnikov bullet on my keychain also didn’t help, everything was sadly confiscated, those lucky b*stards.    

At the same time, my living situation was spiraling out of control.  My house mate had a secret, he was mentally unstable, on medication and an alcoholic.  Once he got comfortable with my presence he began to unravel.  Quickly it progressed to the point where he would go into manic episodes, grab his shotgun and try to break into my bedroom in the middle of the night, belligerent, thank god I had a lock..  In the morning after he’d sober up he wouldn’t have any recollection of these episodes.  I was baffled, I was living with a true madman who was unaware of his own danger.  I hid the ammunition and figured I’d have to move somewhere else.  Later on a friend informed me his drinking was so awful once he’d left the country, ended up in Southern America with no knowledge of how he got there.  This information would have come in handy earlier!  

So upon my return home I saw my housemate, being drunk 24/7 he saw nothing wrong about ditching me alone in another state and didn’t even bother to ask how I had magically returned.  He had another psychotic episode, and while a friend was visiting him I packed up, said hello to his pal and was whisked away by my romeo to a more normal setting with my large black rolling suitcase.  We moved in together after knowing each other for a week or so.  

So that is how we met and began to “date” about 6 or so years ago, on and off, on and off, on and off, put it on repeat.  

I don't mind ANY experiences because it helps redirct me better as to who I really am.  I'm not a glamour girl, I'm not a pageant girl, I don't care about recognition.   My drive has generally been for artistic or ethical reasons.  Of course over the years I have mutated quite, avoid the sun like the plague and become more comfortable in my skin, outter dressings are a tool for expression and silent communication.  Each misadventure is treasured because you learn your lessons best by negative experiences.  Now I know better what not to do, have a better reading of individuals, but anyone who knows me has figured out aparantly there is still much learning to do, and there have been plenty more misadventures:)