My Scorpio Clown Magnet

I hate Facebook. 

I really, really, really hate Facebook. 

Do you know why? 

Men...

Lonely men....

Men who see your picture and think you're available to them. 

Then they write to you, every single day and expect a response immediately. 

Then they start calling everyday.  It is always awkward to hear a strange voice on the other end of the line that seems to know too much about you and your Farmville farm.  If you can't get to your phone in time, you get angry messages from complete strangers wondering if you screen your calls. 

Nope...I'm usually with people or in the recording studio.  I don't have my phone on.  If you don't leave a message, I won't be able to call you.  Now that my ex has made money weird for me, I'm on the pay per minute plan, so I have to pick and choose who to call.  Worse, the phone lines to the house don't work at all; no one can get though...it just rings and rings and rings. 

I need to do the Skype thing but I fear dealing with the bill collectors...so....

I'm stuck. 




Today...one Facebook clown demanded an immediate reply or an unfriending.  

He got blocked. 

Why in the holy heck would I cow down to someone I don't know?

Here is the deal...

If I haven't seen your trio, I don't owe you a thing. 

There are only three men in this world who can demand an immediate reply from me.  One, well....I will only respond when his wife is around but the other two, well....they are the only strange men who can call me at 2:00 a.m. and have me pick up the phone. 

I don't owe anyone else a damn thing.   

I'm in a pissy mood. 

Wanna know why?

Mike read his horriblescope online. 

My mother, the hippie, was heavily into astrology.  She had a book about parenting your child using her birth sign.  My childhood with her was hell. 

Mom was wrong about my horoscope.  She said I was a Virgo who was born eight weeks early; so I was supposed to read the Scorpio horoscope.  Whatever...neither fit me very well.

Still, my childhood was filled with books, books, and more books.  I was dressed in black.  They made it a point to tell me that I had brains rather than beauty.  They made a big deal out of Halloween and stocked my personal library with books about the supernatural.  I didn't grow up to be a librarian nor an undertaker. 

I don't identify with astrology, at least what I was raised with.  I'm not an uptight, prissy, obnoxious jerk (well...not all the time).    I was a rebel, so I identified with the polar opposite of what I was said to be.  I'm not a Virgo.  I'm a Pisces because that is what Mom didn't want me to be. 

Then I learned, that I really am more of a Pisces.  I'm not a Pisces...not really...but there is so much of that in my horoscope that's what they tell me to read. 

It fits a little too well.  It could be because I trained myself to be that way.  It could be because there is something to astrology, I don't know. 

I'm happier with my art than with obnoxious men.  I consider certain things religious experiences and am not happy having to set it aside for stupid reasons. 

I prefer to act like a female because...really...being a tomboy is overrated.  Even my gay friends giggle that my bathroom is pink.  I like dolls (albiet creepy ones from haunted houses).  I like frilly things.  I wear silk (everyday).  I wear lace.  My sheets are satin. 

I'd have a pink Steinberger if I could find one and afford to buy it (later...).   

The most beautiful thing you can do for me is give me space.   If you mess up, the most beautiful words you can say to me are "I'll take care of it."

I'm not a man, don't expect me to act like one. 

I don't mind cleaning up the house.  I love kids.  I like to cook.  I do love to work but I have to do soul fulfilling work.  Which is kind a bizarre considering that everything I do tends to be in male dominated fields. 

If you believe in it, it is said that if you boss a Pisces Ascendant around...she'll swim off.  If you say you're happier without her in your life, she'll leave so you can be happy.  Don't play with her for there are far too many other hot, colorful fish in the sea for her to frolick with. 

Stupid boys. 

I think this Facebook bozo was another bossy little fall baby. 

Here is the truth. 

I've never been asked out by anyone who wasn't a Scorpio. 

It happens so damn often, I've gotten pretty good about guessing the birthdays of potential suitors to the amazement of my friends. 

If you're obnoxious, you were born in October (especially if you have a good Catholic name because that is the time of St. Michael's feast).  If you are hyper-religious or rant about your hatred of organized religion (or if you think I'm your soul mate), you were born in early November.  If you sit down with me to play twenty questions and quiz me about every last detail of my life before finding fault with me, you're more of a Thanksgiving baby. 

Yep, I only get asked out by Scorps. 

Well, that's not true.  There was a Libra, born on the cusp, that had a Scorpio ascendant.   He was the most obnoxious, controlling, and abusive jerk of them all. 

I wish I were joking. 

I'm really tired of it. 

They play games. 

They play far too many games. 

I can't take it anymore. 

After reading his horriblescope, Mr. October explained his game to me last night.  He likes to punish himself, just to see what he can tolerate.  He wants to experience the pain of deprivation of the pleasures of life.  He doesn't quite understand that punishing himself is a means of punishing me.  There are those shared things that really shouldn't be cast aside like yesterday's garbage. 

Nice...

Oh, it gets worse.  No one likes him (or so he thinks).  He finds one person that likes him so he has to push the limits to see how much she'll tolerate before leaving. 

Oh...I'm glad he understands himself now. 

He wants deprivation?  He wants to experience loss? 

Well, sweetie.... keep pissing little me off...and you'll soon get your wish. 

Actually, it is too late.  I've been pushed a tad bit too far. 

That explains just about everything

So...I'm pissed. 

My auntie used to tell me that I was a clown magnet.  Nope...I'm a Scorpio clown magnet.  I sit down, a man will approach me, touch me, insult me, boss me around and give me an excuse to exercise my middle finger. 

I'm about to scream. 

What can I do to stop this? 

Maybe I can find a support group for Pisces men and lurk around. 

I'm sure they'd get me. 

Love,

S.