What Do You Want In A Woman? "My Dick."

I looked for work every day, but to no lucky end, all while hopping from couch to couch until I landed in the spare room of a friend's mom's house. A few months in, I ran out of money, and instead of going back home, instead of admitting defeat, I stayed in the car. A TV, some shoes, and my school stuff in the front seat; books and a box of random things in the trunk; and clothes-stuffed bags, blankets, and pillows in the back seat. I traded in my dresser, my midi keyboard, and my broken computer for an extra week to move out. I didn't need them anyway. Most times, my boyfriend would let me sleep with him in the dorms at RIT. That meant not living in my car, but rather out of my car.

I started dating Ron a couple months before the shit hit the fan. Our relationship was nice until I ran out of moeny. Then things started to get sour. I began living out of my car just before the Honeymoon Effect of our relationship wore off. And after it did wear off, he treated sex like part of the girlfriend package. No longer be modest about his constant erections, he instead suggest I do something about it, even in front of people. Oddly, I had a lot of fun staying at RIT with him, even though he sometimes deliberately ignored me or put me down in front of people, or promised me things he'd never deliver and whatnot. Details. Should have registered the first signs, really- like when I invited him to a party, but decided he should go and I should stay to do his laundry. Oh, and the rape? Not that fun.

Yes, sometimes at night, he would be... in the mood, while I was already half asleep, and, well... He made me feel so guilty about not wanting to at that moment, that I felt like I had no choice but to let him. And I never let him see me cry, but I wished every damn time it happened that his roommate would wake up while I pleaded not to do it. I let it happen for seven months. Because I was young. I was one of those stupid girls who just wanted him to love me. Hell, to even pretend to love me, or even like me at that point! It was winter, and even though it wasn't as cold as the previous years, I still didn't want to live in my car. So I let him.

I began spending a lot of time over at my best friend Fin's house. I told her about what was happening. Not in these words, but in innocent, I-don't-really-grasp-the-seriousness-of-this-shit terms, and she looked at me and said, "Dude. That's not cool," and the power of those words hit me and I started to get misty-eyed. That's when I grew a pair and I told him, Look. No more sex at all, until you start acting like you love me or even like me again.

And that was it.

Later, Fin told me that, on that night I left misty-eyed, she had a chat with her boyfriend, who was a good friend of Ron's, and he told him to quit jerking my feelings around and if he didn't want me, then fucking dump me already. And thank you, thank you, thank you Fin for freeing me.

Finally free.
But homeless.
Officially this time.

At First

I didn't leave at first. Last day of school, and I didn't leave yet. My best friend had just thrown himself in front of a train and before my mind snapped, it just shut off. I packed a bag and called a friend to get me out of there. Had my first beer that night. I couch surfed in town with friend after friend. I didn't go back for weeks, but when I did, I spent July to November in a blur, locked away in my room, sleeping and playing mindless, button-mashing video games. I left the comfort of my blankets to pee once, maybe twice a day, and go to work twice a week. Leaving in those first weeks was like when you're at a party, and you go outside for a breath of fresh air, and realize you don't want to be there, and that you don't have to go back in... I could finally breathe. But I had to hold my breath for just a little while longer.

My boss rescued me on Thanksgiving. I took some key items, a bag of clothes, as many books as I could carry, and my grandmother's accordion, which I was never allowed to play. She let me stay on her couch for two months before her lease went up and we got a place together. I worked at the bookstore full-time until the holidays were good and over. Then I switched to working a couple jobs as a checkout girl and waiting tables. And then switched back to the bookstore again. Biked everywhere, and I was at my thinnest. It was great. I was very happy. And then the lease went up. The bookstore closed down. And my roommate found love across the country. I had a very difficult time debating on whether or not to abandon everything to make sure nothing important abandoned me and hop into the van with her. But for some reason or another, I decided to stay. Not the best decision, but not the worst.

I packed up my car, gave away furniture, or put it in storage. And I hit the road in search of the next best thing. But where to go? It wasn't the first time I had everything pulled out from under me, but this is the first time I had a life of my own to fuck up in one fell swoop.

Someone hit reset.

This Is What Will Happen

Well, what will probably happen, anyway. I'm going to write stories / blogs about being homeless and events leading up to being homeless. They won't be in any "order" because I'm going by how I find them in my files, and by which events I feel like writing about at the time. Some will be set in the car, on couches, porn stores, dorms, dumpsters, or whatever. Some will be childhood memories. Terrible ones. Ones that made me WANT to leave. Ones that drove me out.

I'll begin posting today. I need a nap right now. We'll see how it goes.

Oh, hello.

I'm afraid you've caught me at quite an embarrassing moment. See, I've not yet gotten around to posting anything here yet. But hey, give me a break. I've only just created this blog today, and it was mostly to comment on someone else's blog.

Anyway, my plan for this blog is to post all the events leading up to my homelessness, as well as some far-fetched but true tales of BEING homeless.

If you want me to further entertain you, my other blogspot account (not updated in a year) is Outlanders, where I review foreign entertainment. And there's Make Your Character Cry, for class, but you can come, too.
If that's not good enough, my livejournal gets updated fairly often.
Failing that, I've got a facebook. But I'm not telling you what it is. If you're smart enough to figure it out, then you'll figure it out.

And don't worry. I've got a home now.