I had a job I liked and they freakin’ shipped it to San Diego and assigned me a new terrible job I would never want, researching escalated issues that angry people have, which wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t have to call them and talk to them and try and get the problem sorted out.

Figuring out what went wrong was interesting and challenging to me. Discussing it with them, was not. In fact, I knew deep in my soul from the very first moment they told us of our new positions (they changed my whole department into an entirely different department that most of us were neither qualified for or interested in doing) that I was never actually going to be doing that job.

That meant I had to find another one.

Frankly, I didn’t expect that to be easy. And I didn’t expect it to be with the same company. In fact I figured I’d quit and regret it because I was going to end up unemployed for a long time. But that was still better than doing this job and letting these people, who’ve been jerked around a lot, yell at me for things I not only didn’t do, but mostly likely couldn’t fix.

The people in my department who’d worked customer service or collections jobs before tell me I need to toughen up.

I decided I’d rather be out of work than toughen up.

I mean I’ve been out of work and there’s always ways to bring in some money, and there’s always school to go back to, and I guess I’ve been lucky because there have always been jobs for me to fall into just be being in the right place at the right time. Staying scared me more than leaving.

But I got lucky and got a new position with the same company in a better building. I don’t lose any benefits I’ve earned by being with the company awhile, my money stays the same, my commute gets shorter, my hours change but I think I might like the new ones better, and my work gets much less stressful as I’m back to reviewing documents like I was put on this earth to do.

Accepting the job offer was like a weight off my shoulders.
Walking out the door today never to return was just pure bliss.

I’m actually looking forward to starting my new job on Wednesday!

Dawn Owar (@DawnOwar) has shared a Tweet with you:

“valientthorr: Spin article confused people. We R from Venus. We play “Earth” in case gov tries to swoop in & dissect us. Keep the faith. Thorriors Unite!” —http://www.twitter.com/valientthorr/status/22541814535

So it seems that after I told my boyfriend (who’s not my boyfriend) off for being a jerk, he’s actually dialed down the jerkyness from a 10 on the jerk-o-meter to about a 3. Which I can deal with.

Similarly, I’ve decided that I could turn up the sexy a little for his amusement and that wouldn’t hurt nothin’. I like to be sexy for guys who I dig. It’s only the ones that I don’t like that I’m hiding myself from.

This seems to be working for us. We’ve gone from two people who are totally incompatible to two people who are at least trying to learn something from the other one.

Strange. We skipped that part of the relationship where you meet and you think everything the other one does is adorable and went right to the part where everything we do is annoying to each other and you have to figure out how to deal.

And he’s still not my boyfriend!

I went out with another guy I know yesterday and he pointed out that there were legions of lecherous perverts giving me the eye everywhere we went all night. Not that I ever thought it was my imagination, but since my relative sexuality has been the subject of conversation lately, it just made me think deep thoughts about my sexual hangups.

Most people, I think, have a hangup here or there over some thing or another. Most of them, I suspect, occur in the bedroom. My sexual hangups are pretty much all in regular life, and all related to the way I get treated by people because of my rather hourglassy figure.

Men and women alike assume I must be a whore, and they assume I’m looking for it wherever I may be. They assume I will have sex with them, or I’m trying to have sex with their boyfriends or husbands behind their backs, or that it’s okay to just reach out and touch me inappropriately.

They think I slept with someone to get wherever it is I got, that I have no feelings or conscience, and they think that I won’t mind if they sleep with me once and move on. Even if they’re married. Even if i wasn’t so much as even looking at them and I didn’t even notice they were there. Or even if I’ve been hanging around for years and haven’t slept with anyone in all that time.

They ask me if I’m a hooker. They ask me if I want to make amateur porn. They ask me if I want to go to swingers clubs. And they don’t even know me.

My boyfriend (whos not my boyfriend) wants me to wear stripper shoes cause he thinks they’re sexy. I’m only offended by this because that will only make my problems worse. And because of all the other jerks who say jerky stuff to me like this everyday.

My artist friend keeps telling me posing nude would be liberating. For me, being sexually attractive has brought me a lot of unwanted attention, unfair judgment, and inappropriate interactions. Hiding myself seems much more liberating.

I never thought of myself as a person with sexual hangups. When I choose to do it, I enjoy myself and I’m not repressed at all. So it’s strange to find out that this one jerk in a bar who told me I have issues was actually right.

I’m not sure if he’s a man of great wisdom in general, but he was able to make me see something in myself that I didn’t even know was going on.

That makes him interesting. I always thought he was physically attractive, but now he’s actually trying really hard to keep me happy. I like that. I think we can both learn a lot from each other.