A List of Strange Confessions I Made

I don’t have a problem with any word so long as it’s not used with bad intentions. Words like slut, cunt, nigga, fag, whatever. If you find a way to say it with love, then say it. I, however, still can’t bring myself to say most of those out loud, despite this position.

I used to take a pharmaceutical drug called tramadol fairly regularly to help me deal with the world in a positive way. Self-diagnosis, self-prescribed. There are countries where it’s over the counter and I love those countries. I don’t take it that much anymore, except on days when I wake up, need to get stuff done, and am having an interior crisis of sorts.

I also drink a little bit almost every day. Not necessarily much. Like today I am going to mix some homemade blackberry lemonade with some Patron I've had sitting around for months.

Losing 10 pounds would be ideal. I guess not ideal enough do actual do anything about it though. Priorities?

I’m spent years terrified that I wasn’t the kind of girl that guys want to be with seriously, that I fill some kind of adventure-void they have for awhile, then then move on to something more serious without ever being serious with me. Manic-pixie-dream-girl status.

If I got pregnant today, I seriously doubt I would follow through with the pregnancy. Even though I’m 33 and in a stable relationship with the love of my life. I guess it’s a good thing I’ve always done a good job not getting pregnant.

I read somewhere that people who don’t have infinite doubts aren’t as creative as those of us who do. That made me feel more secure.

I have to try really hard not to hate it when I like a piece of clothing but it only looks good on really skinny girls. I hate it that I care.

When I say that I don’t care about what other people think, I am mostly talking about people that I don’t hold dear to me. I care very much what those dear people think. Second of all, what that actually translates to is that it has gotten way easier not to care, but it still creeps in sometimes. It’s the goal to not care at all.

I feel super bothered when people try to give me unwanted advice. I’m direct. If I don’t ask, 90% of the time, I don’t want it. Aries queen right here.

I will be really impressed by you if you knew how to read the 10% of the time that I want advice without asking, meaning I didn’t even know I wanted it, but you did.

The likelihood of me being friends with a person who does not rank fairly high in self-awareness is low. That’s why some of my friends are assholes. As long as they know they’re an asshole, we’re good.

I don’t cry very often. This surprises me.

I’ve had sex with a lot of people. Probably more than most girls. The weird thing is that I barely feel this is a confession. I could only give you a ballpark figure if you asked me, though. Not shy.

I never owned any sex toys before I became a cam girl, because they didn’t/don’t interest me. I used to write for a BDSM blog, so I know all about them, about the reasons they might be cool. Still, nope. The blue dildo I have now I have only used once in real (noncam) life.

And on that note, I prefer external to internal masturbation, personally.

The last person I chased was my ex Rodrigo from 2014. He is the last person I will ever chase. Even if I like you, even if I love you, I won’t chase you. I think it’s not a smart thing to do, and I never realized it at the time, but it made me feel so horrible about myself. I was lying to my friends sometimes. Hey Jess, what are you doing? Ah, I’m tired. I just feel like watching Netflix. No I can’t hang out. Why? I was just waiting for Rodrigo to tell me whether or not we were going to hang out. I was always waiting for him. We had a pheromonal connection that I let devour me. In a way, I liked it, being devoured. I’m not a masochist, though. The pheromones are the only explanation I have.

I look everywhere for explanations. Science. Religion. Astrology. Alcohol. Drugs. Music. Poetry. Walking. Silence. Trees. Water. Language gaps. Dogs. I overthink things a lot.

I’m looking for a balance between holding onto things and letting things go.

I love 90’s music. I listened to 90’s alternative/pop music for almost the whole drive from Playa del Carmen to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Silverchair. Sarah McLaughlin. Jewel. The Verve Pipe. Some lesser known ones too, like Athenaeum.

If there is mold on cheese, I will cut around it and eat the rest. Along the same lines, expiration dates by themselves mean almost nothing to me. Smells are more accurate.

I truly believe that I am in the 1% of people in the world who like music the most.

I overheard my parents say that I am a slob once and I started crying (and I don’t cry as often as I’d like, even). I am not a slob. I sometimes prioritize creativity over cleaning, however.

Somewhere in the notes on my phone from awhile ago, it says: I showed up to my divorce hearing in a cat leotard. I wonder who said that. Where did that come from.

The last girl I hooked up with was named Jessica (my name). I don’t hook up with girls very often. I would consider myself about 80/20 on the spectrum of sexuality, 80% straight and 20% gay, if that makes sense. When I was 16, I had a serious crush on a girl named Lindsay. We went to Six Flags together and I had a fantasy that we re-enacted a roller coaster scene from the movie Fear.

Speaking of Jessica’s, I’ve never cheated on anyone I’ve dated. That being said, I was the mistress of a married man with 2 young kids. He left his wife a few months later when we were secretly dating, supposedly not for me, though I know I was at least the catalyst. His wife sent me some threatening messages at first, then realized she was a lesbian and also started dating someone named Jessica. The kids started calling me “daddy’s Jessica” after everything was out in the open.

I had a small existential crisis when my first love told me the due date for his baby. I’m not in love with him anymore, not even a little bit. But he was the first kindred spirit of mine to have a baby, and it made me question everything.

I find flakiness really unattractive and annoying. I am not the type to give up on people easily, but if there was a perpetual quality that would make me do it, this might be it. Please do what you say you’re going to do. It’s embarrassing not to.

I am a natural score-keeper. It’s taken years and years of practice to stop, and I still have to remind myself sometimes.

People don't realize I'm 33, I think in part because I don't "dress my age." I don't care one bit about what anyone thinks is "dressing my age" nor do I agree that ages have appropriate dress. Wear what you want, and I will do the same.

I use Tinder to market my physiopoetry project. Other things I have used it for: to find a girl for a threesome with Omar, to make friends, to find human canvases to write poetry on, to distract myself from my feelings of rejection. I've never used it as I think it is meant to be used.

My connection with my dog Luna, who has been my life partner for all of her 11 years of life and the majority of my adulthood, who has lived with me across 8 cities and 4 countries, who has taught me more about the kind of person I want to be and how to be that person, than anything else is the closest thing to religion that I feel. She legitimately has played the number one role in making me who I am. Now look at us; we're twins.

xoxo,
Jessica

ps. feel free to respond with confessions of your own. I would love to hear them <3