T.L. Gray's Blog, page 25

The Perfect Man

As most of you already know… okay, fine… so as ALL of you already know, I’m single and haven’t been very successful in the crazy world of 21st century dating over 40. I think it’s because I just haven’t found my Mr. Perfect yet, but some of my best friends would argue that it’s because I’ve set the bar too high, that I dismiss way too easily, or that I have a list waaaayyy too long that no man alive on earth could ever possibly fill it. Others have told me they think I’m just being too careful and not opening my heart enough to allow anyone in, and even one of my romantic interests told me, “for someone so smart, you can be very obtuse”. I think perhaps I’m already in love with the perfect man, I just haven’t met him yet.

First of all, to answer all these accusations (which I find quite extraordinary how everyone has an opinion on the subject in regards to me and my dating life, yet their own lives don’t reflect their advice or any evidence they have any better idea of love and relationships more than the rest of us – but that’s another blog post) concerning all my faults, I’d like to clear up a few things.

1. I haven’t set the bar too high. How can a bar be set too high anyway? When is someone too good or not good enough? How low is a low set bar – prison bars, still lives at home with his mother at 45, has more debt than the federal reserve? I feel my bar is set just right. I don’t want a ‘broke ass man’, but I don’t want one that’s so successful he doesn’t enjoy life in pursuit of wealth or position. I don’t mind hard work as long as there is also hard play. I don’t mind struggling as long as I’m not being carried or have to carry someone else, but that we help one another. Ever hiked with someone? It takes a little give and take, some leading and following. It’s about being together and doing things together as partners in good times and bad. Yes, I have a bar… I set the bar to the level I believe I deserve. I’m a smart, beautiful, healthy, passionate woman. I set my bar based on what kind of guy deserves a woman like that. What’s wrong with that? In return, I feel I deserve romantic, faithful, funny and smart. Sheesh!

2. I don’t dismiss way too easily. In fact, I usually give a man plenty of time to try and right his mistakes or make an effort to show his intentions. If he doesn’t call me, text me, message me, or communicate with me in any way, shape, or fashion except the day of or hour before a date, he can find another date. I want something real. I want to be important in his life. I want to be someone he thinks of in the middle of the day for no other reason than I’m on his mind. I want him to ‘share’ his life with me… different parts of it. While I never initiate, I do respond. If I don’t feel ‘wanted’ as a whole person, then I will walk away without batting one of my real or false lashes. I’ve lived too long not being wanted. I’ll never do that again. It hurts me to walk away, but I already know it’ll hurt more to stay.

3. List? I don’t have a list? I have standards. But as far as a man having certain unchangeable things like physical features, personality traits, or hobbies that doesn’t mean anything. I don’t really have a physical type because I find beauty and attractiveness in many different aspects. I’m a sapiosexual, intelligence turns me on more than anything else. Sure, there are some physical traits my body responds to more than others (beautiful eyes, dimples, thick thighs, strong hands), but none of them are deal-breakers, EXCEPT someone who is unhealthy. A sick, unfit person would be detrimental to my own physical health and well-being. So, yes… I hesitate to enter into a relationship with someone that would be destructive to the relationship I have with myself. It took too damned long to learn to love myself and I will protect me as much as I possibly can physically, mentally, sexually, and emotionally.

4. Too Careful? How can anyone be too careful? Perhaps people should be a little more careful and we’d have less heartbreak in the world. Perhaps if we took our time and actually tried to get to know a person before we jump right into a commitment, relationships wouldn’t implode so soon. I’ve had someone I loved very much think by me not saying “I love you” only after a short while was an indication that I didn’t love them at all or that I wasn’t interested in having a serious relationship with them. In fact, I was very much in love with them, but I wanted to build something good, something real, something strong so I held back getting lost in the emotion and ended up losing them instead. We live in such a fast-paced world filled with instant gratification, no one takes times to build any solid foundations anymore. Building on shifting sand never lasts. Am I foolish to want something strong, something that will survive during the storms I know that will come? If I ever tell you “I love you” it will be because I’d mean it with every part of my heart. I don’t say what I don’t mean.

Does the perfect man exist? No. Neither does the perfect woman. But I do believe there is a man out there that will be perfect for me. He won’t be the richest, most successful, most handsome, most romantic, most intelligent, or sexiest man alive, but he will be everything I want, need, and hope for… he will suit me, push me, inspire me, make love to me, irritate me, confront me, turn me on, move me, piss me off, make me laugh, make me think outside the box, but most of all love me just as I am.

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray

My Own Fairy Tale

I can do so many amazing things. I’ve accomplished countless great things in my life already and have the ability, talent, and drive to be successful at many more. I never run from a fight, I stand up for who I am and what I want, and I try to be as fair as I possibly can in an unfair world. So, why am I so scared? Why do my hands literally shake at the thought of exposing my fiery heart and letting someone in?

I don’t lack for self-esteem. I have come to love myself greatly. I’ve learned to appreciate myself for the rare beauty that I am, respect myself for my opened mind, and know without doubt I’m worth fighting for. I’ve learned to love and appreciate the simplistic beauty of a soul, to see beyond masks, and choose to love anyway – just as they are, not trying to change them to fit into an old fantasy or idea of who they should be. But deep inside there is still this scared little beast who doesn’t believe she’s capable of being loved, of being chosen, that the glass slipper will fit, or the curse be broken with a simple kiss.

Here’s the hard part. I’m not without love. I am already very much loved. I have some good friends who love all the complicated mess that makes me who I am. They’re in my corner. They believe in me. They see me… all of me, my true self, and love me anyway. I know if they could, they’d wave their magic wands and transform my life into the dream I desire, but they can’t. They’re not fairy godmothers, mice who turn into men, pumpkins who transform into carriages to take me directly to my Prince Charming. In my world, I have to make my own damned clothes, hike all the way to the castle, declare my right to be there no matter what anyone else says, ignore all the stares and judgments from all the snobs because I’m different, walk with my head high among the whispers, and keep telling myself that I’m worth it and somewhere among all these frogs there is a Prince just for me.

It’s hard attending this ball. I’ve witnessed time and again other princesses kiss their frogs and have them transform into beautiful princes. So far, all the princes I’ve kissed have remained frogs. While our meeting, conversation, and dance has been beautiful and even magical, it hasn’t been enough to break the spell. Yet I still hope. Not that a kiss will save me or wake me from a deep sleep… but that it will set me on fire and I unfurl my wings and soar into the heavens. What prince ever loves the dragon?

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray

Focused Leap

I find it hard to really focus sometimes. I don’t think it’s because of some medical reason, but more of huge mental and psychological issues within myself. When I find myself looking for distraction it often means I’m wanting to hide, to escape, to avoid, to protect. But from what? It could one of a million things.

I’m a fighter. I’m strong-willed. I’m confident and courageous. But, I’m also very afraid. I’ve been burned. I’ve fallen hard. I’ve been so down, so lost, and so hopeless at times that I didn’t want to live anymore. I’ve seen and experienced horrors that would make nightmares pale in comparison. Yet, I have survived. I have overcome. I have defeated. Though rejected in the most cruel way, I still hold hope to be loved. Though abandoned, I still hope to be wanted. Though despised, I still hold hope to be desired.

There are no promises. There are no guarantees. There is only hope. All evidence points to an impossible existence, but I need only to remind myself of all the impossible things I’ve already accomplished. The only thing stopping me is choosing to focus. Once I make up my mind, turn my attention toward the thing I desire most, that’s when I leap. I always leap. It always requires a leap of faith. I leap knowing I could fall, knowing I could crash, knowing it could destroy me. But even more… I know not leaping would kill me.

What focused leap do you face?

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

One Last Night

*A Flash Fiction Piece by T.L. Gray*


Gray clouds billow above the white foamy surf as fog rolls like a trampling stampede upon the surface of the cerulean sea. The crash of waves upon the rocks reminds me of my lovers tryst; the sea spray our wild release. I stand at the widow, staring out at the cold, magical, monochromatic morning, my chest heavy with sorrow, but no regret.

The view before me blurs amid the hot, silver tears as they fill my eyes. I flush as each warm memory fills my mind’s eye. I wrap my arms tight around me and let the images take me back, take me into our one last night.

~

Dark eyes stared into my soul, undressing me, exposing the deepest part of me, stealing my breath.

Strong, gentle fingers slowly traced the side of my face, moving slowly down my neck, and onto my shoulders, shakily leaving a trail of prickling anticipation and sweet adoration.

I shivered.

He smiled.

I let go.

Two hearts beat in unison as our bodies converged into one, staring into each other’s eyes, feeling the love, forgetting the world outside. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered. Giving. Receiving. Loving. Worshipping. Sharing. No words. No promises. No lies.

My eyes grew heavy as my head rested on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat, feeling the comforting warmth of his arms wrapped around me, his fingers gently caressing me. A perfect moment.

I didn’t look back as he left. I couldn’t.

~

I now stand empty, cold, and alone. I can still hear his gentle breathing and feel the lingering sting of his touch, but only as ghosts and silhouettes. I walk toward those cold, crashing waves, letting go of my will, my fight, my resolve, shedding my earthly shell and the last tendrils of my humanity. I disappear into the abyss.

Death holds his bony fingers out toward me and asks, “Was it worth it, your one last night?”

I take his hand, look up at him, and smile, “What night?”

Get Me?

Someone sent me a meme yesterday and upon first glance I thought it was a clever meme, but didn’t really think much about it. At least, that’s what I thought. I was wrong. The meme: “Understanding is deeper than knowledge. There are many who know you, but there are very few who understand you.”

The following bit of banter followed:

Me: “Indeed, I’m sharing that one.”

Him: “I know.”

Me: “I know you know. You know?”

Him: “I know.”

Me: “I like a man that knows what to know.”

Him: “A wise man knows he knows nothing at all.”

Me: “That too is something to know. Knowing to know nothing is knowing something indeed.”

Him: “Indeed.”

Within an hour of receiving that meme I had more than a dozen deep thoughts. I mostly considered the people who say they know me, who believe they know me, who once thought they knew me … but how many don’t or didn’t get me. The funny thing is … it’s a person that doesn’t know much of anything about me who gets me most of all. Those who were supposed to love and understand me most in this world, never got even close.

Then, I stumbled upon a song “Gotten” by Adam Levine and it just hit my soul like a ten-ton elephant. I can’t shake it. I can’t get it out of my system. I’ve cried a dozen times already. I’m crying right now as I’m writing this blog post.

“I’ve been saving …these last words for …one last miracle, but now I’m not sure. I can’t save you if you don’t let me. You just get me ...like I’ve never been gotten before.”

I suppose if I have one wish it would be to find someone who truly gets me. I want to be able to look at them in the eyes, and without having to say a single word, know they get me. I want to look in their eyes and know… they know. They know how I feel, what I think, why I respond the way I do, what I need, what I want, and how much I love them. I’d also like to do the same. I want to look into a pair of eyes and see love… love for me and all the craziness that I am. All without words. That’s quite contrary to a person who makes a living with her words.

“I’ve been saving …these last words for …one last miracle, but now I’m not sure. I can’t save you if you don’t let me. You just get me ...like I’ve never been gotten before.”

Get me?

~T.L. Gray

Beautiful Sad Dream

I had a very beautiful dream last night. It wasn’t anything kinky or adventurous, just a sweet moment of a man and a woman lying in each other’s arms in a meadow, staring up at the sky, pointing at the clouds, and laughing about what their imaginations morphed the many cirrus wonders into. Of course I’d like to believe I was the woman, but I didn’t recognize the man. He’s not anyone I’ve ever met before, or perhaps a culmination of all the men I’ve known in my life into one.

There was a familiarity about my love, though I saw no details… well, no details of his face. I heard a voice and it was calming and he had a hearty laugh, and it made me giggle like no problems existed in the world. I smelled the light scent of musk, and it made me feel at home after being gone away for a long time. I felt the warmth of his body next to mine and the steady beat of his heart, and it made me feel loved as I’ve never been loved. His outstretched arm was strong just like his gentle hands, and they made me feel safe as if the world held no danger. His fingers intertwined with mine, and it was beautiful, and made me feel complete as if we were one.



The sad part of this beautiful dream is that I had to wake up.

True Devotion

*I am not defending or tearing down this book or movie.  This is about a conversation.*

I had another one of those deep, thought-provoking conversations with a good friend of mine this morning, this time it was on the subject of 50 Shades of Grey and the aspect of devotion. This in-depth enlightenment spawned from a meme that said, “Fifty Shades of Grey is romantic only because the guy is a billionaire. If he was living in a trailer park it would be a Criminal Minds episode.”

~
My comment: “I agree… however, what I think most people miss about that whole story, because they’re fixated on the kinky sex (which I think is interesting), is the way Christian made Anastasia feel. That’s what women desire and why they love this story … a man in control, yet completely devoted. That’s desirable, no matter penthouse or trailer park. Unfortunately, there’s not much complete devotion these days, except from perverts, pedophiles and predators.”

His response: “There is devotion. But the women have to make the man feel that way. If you read the book, you will know there is a hint to this all across it that makes him devoted and madly in love with her. If you don’t have that connection right from the start, it is impossible for a man to show that kind of devotion. It’s kinda like that ‘love at first sight’ thing with a twist.”

My response: “I don’t think so, not at first. I think it’s only possible when trust is established. First sight is chemical and the birth of the fairy-tale dream, but devotion is developed along with trust. A woman’s devotion is given to a man she trust with her heart, mind and body. Trust isn’t automatic, but developed. That’s also very apparent in this book. As Anastasia learned to trust Christian, mostly through the BDSM (which is based on trust), she began to trust him with everything else, including her heart.”

His response: “Then you have never loved at first sight. I can tell you that within 5 minutes of meeting someone. I’ve been that devoted.”

My response: “Yes, I have. I didn’t think ‘love at first sight’ existed until it happened to me.”

His response: “So, your statement is incorrect, based on your experience.”

My response: “No, because devotion never manifested in that relationship because of a lack of trust. Not because of anything he did, but because of trust issues deep-seeded in myself, combined with the fact the love was unrequited. I understand devotion. I spent 20 years of my life devoted to a man who didn’t love me out of principle. So, I do believe in devotion, just not complete devotion without trust.”

His response: “Sorry for you. Hard life you had.”

My response: “Nah, it just hasn’t been my time yet. I didn’t know my last love existed before I met him, so I have hope that my next love is out there somewhere and I’ll meet him someday, and I’ll be glad, even if I have him for only one night like the last man completely devoted to me. I’ve had my Christian Grey, that’s how I know such devotion exists when trust is developed. I just lost him, that’s all.”

~

So what do you believe? Do you believe a man can be completely devoted at first sight? Or do you believe that while he may be attracted at first sight, the true devotion becomes stronger as the trust between the couple grows? One thing I know, if you don’t trust someone, you won’t be totally devoted to them. You’ll hold back a part of yourself out of self-preservation.
Till next time,~T.L. Gray

Omega Victrix Mortalis - February 2015

Every kind of group filled with human being goes through a constant metamorphosis. It will never be the same today as it was yesterday, or as it will be tomorrow. As long as people have free will, change in inevitable. The same goes for clan membership. Omega Victrix Mortalis is filled with human beings, creatures filled with different backgrounds, ideas, passions, levels of maturity, and experiences. However, there are some traits that should be cultivated in order for the group to strive and continue to grow.

I'm very proud of OVM. There have been some members that have come and gone, others who are in constant pursuit to steal our members away to their own clans, and yet others who come from other places seeking something new, wanting something more than just the game.

What I love most about this clan is that our coming together isn't JUST about the game. We have and are becoming a network of friends who love and support one another in life - not just bounties, strikes, matches, missions, and raids. We are family. It breaks my heart when we lose one of our members to another clan, much the way losing a friend or family member. However, members are free to come and go as they will. As as long as the moves are open and honest, there should be no reason we can't continue to be friends and support one another ..even if we're not clan members. Trust, however, once lost ...is almost impossible to regain. Loyalty is not just a one time thing that is proven with one act, or can be traded for one moment, but is a part of the integrity a person already has within them. I am loyal to my friends and family. They come first. If loyalties are divided, so is the mindset, and also the respect. Matthew 6:24 - "No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other." Alliances are preferable to divided loyalties. Respect is a two-way street. Promises made should be kept.

OVM has recently added a few new members. Veteran OVM's, please do all you can to welcome new clan members. Attend to their needs, help them with their missions, invite them into your hearts, make room for them into your gaming lives, and treat them with the respect you'd want to receive. Support them, help them become the best at their game, cheer them on, let them know and feel they're part of the family. I love you all. I miss the ones we've lost, but it is what it is. Guard your hearts and don't let your actions be 'just about the game'. OVM is more than just a clan. Destiny, AC Unity, Halo, GTA5, COD, etc. are all just games, but OVM is filled with friends and family, and that is much more important than any game.

Here is the OVM clan roster as of 02/19/2015:

PhoenixMortalis - Founder/God (College Student/CSI)

KV Kvothe - Administrator/Goddess (Writer/Consultant)

iTz CriMSonDxsk - Administrator/God (College Student/Medical Field) - Currently in the finals for COD MLG team! Go, Crimson!

RevertantPath - Administrator/God (High School Student)



CJBIGMAC - Guardian/Demigod (College Student/Mechanical)

iTz CriMSonJr - Guardian/Mascot (Student)



greyNinja - Guardian/Mortal (Student)

Deathstroke1997 - Guardian/Mortal (Student)

GODLY Furrrball - Guardian/Mortal (Business Owner/Operator)

InfernoVictrix - Guardian/Mortal (Student)

XxTrsXShotxX - Guardian/Mortal (Student)

Set Off The DJ - Guardian/Mortal (Student)

oZ Bacon - Guardian/Mortal (Student)

oZ Vinyl - Guardian/Mortal (Canadian... but we won't hold that against him.)

oZ Shocx (Shocx Gaming) - Guardian/Mortal (Student)

the Cheeseki11er - Guardian/Mortal (Student)

BABYDOLL 143 - Guardian/Princess (Bartender)



Till next time,



~KV Kvothe

Complicated Life

Some of the most profound conversations happen at the oddest times, often unplanned and unexpected. As I was falling asleep last night, my mind half suspended between listening to the repetitive beating of my heart, being grateful to be alive, and trying to catch the swirling thoughts filtering through my mind, I focused on one particular idea fading in and out. Without thought, perhaps subconsciously my soul reaching out to a distant friend, I sent the following text message, “Will life always be this complicated?”

I didn’t expect a response. I closed my eyes, pulled the blankets up to my neck, and hugged my pillow as I started to drift once again into the land of dreams and thoughts. A deep sense of longing for something familiar overwhelmed me. Scenes of my life, people who’ve come and gone, flashed through my mind’s eye. The world keeps changing, nothing ever stays the same, and the people I have loved most in this world have disappeared from my life for various reasons. I hated that moment. I remembered the shallow promises from each one, reminded that life never works out the way we plan, the way we hope, or the way we’ve been led to believe.

I have no regrets, because I’ve lived my life as open and honest as I could, and tried with all my heart to be enough, to be my best, to give my best. It was never enough. It’s my own fault, because I believed the lies, I hoped for the false dreams, I set my expectations high. I thought I could control the outcome with discipline, faithfulness, honesty, faith and hope. I controlled nothing.

The response I received was but a simple word, but it opened the floodgates inside my soul. His words have always been able to do that to me. No matter the state of our relationship, which at this time is non-existent, my muse answered, “Ahuh”.

I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, the tears of disappointment, of heartbreak, of facing the reality of a situation. I saw the good of life mixed with the bad, the happy moments meshed with the moments of utter pain, a brief glance of love mixed with the face of indifference. It was all one big mess. I responded, “That’s nice to know, good night.”

He responded, “If it wasn’t, it wouldn’t be life.”

That broke the dam inside and I lashed out, “Why doesn’t it come with an instruction manual, or at least a YouTube video, with guidelines? Instead we have fuckups leading fuckups into one rut (a ditch without end) after another, and the independent sojourner aimlessly wandering in never-ending wastelands. Yet, I still dream of paradise (which turns out is actually a sectioned portion of Hell).” 
Meaning – nobody knows the answers, and if we think we do, it’ll turn out to be another lie. We have preachers, prophets and priests telling us their interpretation of God’s guidelines, but all live as hypocrites. We have the politically correct demanding its own set of rules in the name of intolerant tolerance. We have the pacifist, atheist, and various deist all demanding a voice, screaming over each other, but not listening. I am as a child standing in a desert, looking for an answer, but only able to hear a roaring sandstorm. It’s choking me, filling my ears, my mouth, my eyes, and my lungs full of bitter sand. I can’t breathe. My soul needs water. I’m thirsty.

I long for the day when I can close my eyes and finally rest, yet I fight like hell to keep that day from coming as long as I can. Ahuh, life is certainly complicated.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Sun-Kissed

I hear the sound of the pouring rain outside my office and I can’t stop the smile forming across my face. The tempest outside is loud. It’s hard. It wonderfully glorious. Not because I particularly like the rain, which I do, but because I feel as though my naked soul stands beneath a majestic downpour filled with new grace, new life, and new beginnings. I’ve carried around the ashes of grief long enough. I feel light. I feel …ready.

For the first time in my life my present, my life, and my future belong to me, and only me. I’m alive. I’m free. I won’t be chasing dead dreams, but dreaming new ones.

Love me, hate me, envy me, or despise me – I honestly don’t care. Just watch me - amazing things are happening!!!!!!!

It was once prophesied over me that I had been called before I was born, marked and targeted; that my life would be shattered into a million pieces; that there were several tentacle arms reaching out to grab and bind me and keep me from my mission; and that like a ship I would be dashed upon the rocks and left for dead. Yet a tempest would come and wash away the debris and I would rise from the wreckage with 9 stars above my head, sun-kissed, strong, wielding a sword, with coal-touched lips filled with words of fire that would weave its way through the universe and touch the hearts and minds of kings and priests.

When I heard that prophecy the creative writer in me thought it’d make for a good story, but was certain the minister who gave it must clearly be mistaken, confused, and perhaps a little crazy. But those words have never left me. I’d laugh them off at times, chuckle at their absurdity, roll my eyes at their sensationalism, and shake my head. I have no idea what it even means, but perhaps there’s something subconsciously inside me that likes the rain because I’m clinging to a hope for this prophesied relief.

It doesn’t matter. Whether the prophecy is real or a joke, I feel my soul dancing in the rain. I have been shattered, abandoned and broken as I tangled with death – death of a dream, death of a promise, death of a marriage, and death of a friendship – yet I’m still alive. Even cancer couldn’t defeat me.

What do I do now?

I LIVE!

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray