The Maha-Type

Evening at Poppy’s.

Earlier, we were discussing ‘types’, because it’s come to my attention, by my own brain, that ‘my type’ no longer works for me.

Since 2012, with the exception of perhaps two out of ten men (I am pulling random numbers purely for explanation purposes, momma), I have had proper garbage taste.

I know why. But that’s information for only me and the inner circle of white witches.

Which is one of the most wonderful things about The Sabbatical – my sense of self is back to 2011, when my taste was super, and when I would, without a moment’s hesitation or second guess, machete a man from my life if he displayed, hinted at, suggested in the least: Bad behaviour.

Unkind. Disloyal. Without grace. Without integrity behaviour.

Presently, returned to 2011? Intelligent. Emotionally available. With integrity. Loyal. Self-depricating. Sexy as shit.

And you know what’s sexiest? Monogamy and commitment. 💃

This is a different kind of homecoming.

Today, I am grateful for:
1. Heating.
2. Hair dye. I love my grey, that I have had since my early 20s. I love how it’s always been localized at the front, like a crown, because against my natural blue/black hair, it looks like sparkle. But I am not ready for it. So hair dye, thank you.

Ottawa | Day 338 | November 3, 2019

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