That Kind Of Woman

October 23rd, 2012

Sometimes I write about a future love. Someone who is existing now in this world. Maybe he is loved by a girl. Maybe he loves her back. Maybe, like me he is alone.

I write away some of the loneliness by writing to him, or about him. I don’t write because of the loneliness, mostly because the loneliness is just about being a human. There isn’t an easy cure. Some people stay busy, some people deny it. Some people stare it in the face and move on with their days. Some people acknowledge that loneliness is something that you can over come with determination.

However, we all need someone. Someones. Plural. I have love. I have self love, I have love from wonderful amazing women. I have love from my parents, and my siblings. I have people that love me.

I know that there is a man, as flawed as I am, that I will meet, someday, and we will give it a go. It being love.

Until then. I will write. And, one day I will share all these rambling prose to him. Maybe he’s already reading them. Maybe he has no idea.

Maybe.

Until then, I write. Not for him, but for me. And, a little bit for you reading this.

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

October 19th, 2012

I won’t change for you.
No matter what.

Because as soon as I accept the word “change” into our relationship
it means that I have found something wrong in myself.

I ~~can’t~~ won’t let myself feel shamed.

I will grow with you.
I will fight for you.
I will fight for a better me.

Not a new one.
Not a trade in.

Just one that is a little healthier, repaired.

I won’t change you.
I won’t tell you that you are wrong.
I wouldn’t want you if you changed.
Just as you wouldn’t want me if I changed.

I will tell you what we can restore together.
We can mend what is too rough, too raw.

I may buy you new old shirts.
I may rearrange the furniture.

But, I won’t change you. Because you won’t change me.

You will make me grow.
Progress. Flourish. Thrive. Succeed.

And I will make you prosper.
Advance. Bloom. Burgeon.

I’m No Poet: A series of attempted poems by Kat Keegan

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

October 8th, 2012

You should love yourself. If not for the pure pleasure of going through life loved, then for those who love you.

We fight ourselves for a better part of our lives. At least as teenagers. We hate ourselves when we wake up, and then all through the day we lash out at those who love us.

Maybe we just don’t like ourselves, looking in the mirror. Not at our physical presence, that we can change. We can get up early in the morning and run. We can fit into all the pretty perfect clothes we want. We can cover our flaws with makeup. We can make our eyes look bigger and prettier. We can dye our hair and wear heels that make our butt and legs look more appealing.

But your attitude won’t change. You can’t change the flaws on the inside and the ugly. You have to love it before you can get rid of it. You have to love the way you are before you can change for the better.

We weren’t born bad. We weren’t born with flawed souls. We got those marks and scars, each day we got up, each day we went out into the world.

Love who you are now. Love who you were as a kid. Hell, even love that asshole 16 year old teenager. Just love yourself, for the sake of the people already trying to love you.

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

September 4th, 2012

I miss the playing. That’s one of those things a relationship brings into your previously single life. The playfulness that doesn’t come as naturally with others. It’s the need to reach out and touch. It’s the eyeing up each other over a court, table, or field. It speaks for me wordlessly Are you ready? A nod, or just the first move from him is answer enough.

Next it is the challenge. The need to not only keep up, but push further, past if even for a moment. If you are lucky is fulfills each level, intellectually, physically, and emotionally. Three levels that help you be a better component, or partner.

No matter what you want to do, you will only get better if you are challenged by those who are better at it than you. Playfullness also means there is a need to have fun. Just plain old goofball fun.

I ~~miss~~ want the playing.

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

August 1st, 2012

Harking back to teen years, but Why do men in their 20s ignore females they have been flirting with?

Anonymous

Men in their 20s are a mystery. A mystery wrapped in an enigma.

My thoughts? Off the record, so that any of my male followers be they 21 or 38, or anywhere inbetween, don’t think I am distributing my opinion all willy nilly….

A very few amount of men know what they want. Heck, anyone in their 20s, male or female, knows exaclty what they want. If they do, they usually go for it. Or they are waiting for it. It may be casual encounters, it may be a friend with benefits, it may be someone who is looking for a long lasting love.

Imagine that you, whoever you are reading this, is going to live until you are 99 years old, god bless you. Let’s say at the youngest you are 21 and at the oldest you are 30. You have 70+ years left to live. That to men, and some women, is daunting. Let’s say that for 50 of those years you are committed to one person. That is a lifetime, a lifetime where you will grow, change, develop, decline… etc. Then you take into account that your partner in life is also going to change… I see it in my parents. Who after 28 years together, are starting to date again. Raising three kids, making them your fulltime commitment changes the way you are, who you are. Now you have to figure out who your spouse is, your goals, your new or changed personality quirks. The kids are grown, taking on challenges and responsibilities of their own.

You are now dating your spouse. Vacations, nights out to eat, no longer are you constantly tugged in the direction of your kids…..

Okay, okay, I digress.

Commitment is terrifying. Especially when you think about how much time you have to get to know someone as a friend. Or, maybe they chicken out. Ignore you because they can’t voice their issues.

Or maybe, these guys are just asshats. Excuse the language. They’d rather pass up the opportunity to get to know a girl. And would rather go for a short term fulfillment casual flirting, try and get in your pants, but be a relatively nice guy about it. The I am a manwhore and I know it, and I can move on if you aren’t interested, mentality.

I am no expert. I go to bars, bookstore, parks, libraries and other places to watch interactions, and occasionally have some of my own. This is where I tend to think of myself gaining more footing in understanding the way people date. But, I may be wrong.

Personally, I tend to be blunt with guys who flirt with me, okay… okay I admit, I flirt back first. A little hair toss, a little shimmy shake, I order a whiskey, neat and do a little spin on the bar stool.

But, I am me, and that comes with blunt observations. If you are going to flirt with me one day, (and I am not talking about a casual mutually understood oh hey you are attractive, oh hey I am attractive let’s jokingly flirt, I am talking about you make me feel like the only girl in the room type flirting, if that exists anymore) and ignore me the next. I will call you out. I will good-naturedly harass you. Albeit with a wicked twinkling gleam in my eyes, but you and I both knew that if you were really invested in me, you’d have gotten my number and called. Or come back a second time to flirt again. Test the waters, see where it could go.

But, that’s just me. My tactics sometimes gains me respect, or other times it gets me ignored. Maybe it’s why I make a great wingman to all my buddies, (I ask what they want and try to help them negotiate the tricky waters of what women wear to the bar and how that tells you what they are expecting for the evening) and maybe my tactics are why I am single.

July 21st, 2012

Zoom

I will hold your hand.
Maybe the first night we meet in a quick and firm handshake.
Or years and years later when we walk down a familiar street.
Maybe in the back of a cab in the Lower East Side.
The aisles of the old antique shops,
trying to stay connected even though our path narrows.
I will hold your hand each night.
Gazing at its skin, casing your muscle and bone.
I will know the rough calluses you got from years of routine.
I will memorize the knuckles and document them in my memory.
I will hold your hand in foreign lands.
I will squeeze tightly to reassure you. Too tell you. I love you.
I will hold your hand when you meet my family.
I will loosely entangle my digits betwixt yours. Lazy hand swinging.
I will clutch your hand in the warm, windproof pockets of your winter coat.
I will hold your hand when we walk museums, or libraries.
Maybe I will tie us together with knotted fingers.
I just know, I will hold your hand.

(Source: mournfully)

Reblogged from There are still a few men who love desperately...

July 6th, 2012

How love is like a run.

On your mark…

Today, while I was at work, my co-worker and long time friend’s new relationship blossomed before my eyes. I have seen within the last 8 years a lot of genuine moments in her life when it came to love, but today was a beautiful and heart-swelling day. Her recent beau had stopped in, then an hour or so later, as I unpacked shipments of vitamins, supplements and minerals. I heard my named being yelled. This at times brings bad news but today was different. Sarah was standing by the counter with two bouquets and a vase stuffed with roses, and a beautiful array of flowers. Her face burst into a smile. “Who sent those?” I asked as she held out a bouquet and said “These are yours. Who do you think?”

Get set…

Indeed, her boyfriend had sent three separate arrangements. One for our boss, and one for my friend and one for me. Then a note in two and one a letter. Sarah read me the very last line and four words in I burst into tears. “No.” I said half laughing half sobbing. “I cannot, Sarah I cannot.” I was overwhelmed, completely, and couldn’t take it. Everyday I had watched this friendship blossom into interest, and then head over heels in love.

Go!

I couldn’t deal with all the reminders of my blossoming love, and how stale it could be, and was a year and some later. I had flashbacks to all my past experiences, whether authentic, inauthentic or otherwise. My first adult love, or should I call upon the cliche, I was in love with the “idea” of us.

I remembered how I was with my ex, and how things had just never had the chance to grow. There was little to no communication on things that seemed general for others.

It’s all different I suppose. I find myself wanting the sprint, craving it. Why? Because I am young and I let foolish romantic ideas fester. Sometimes, during a long hot day you let yourself feel a little crappy, as to why you aren’t finding someone who sends you love notes on flowers. Or even a rolled up receipt with a scribbled confession of affection.

But some people don’t get the sprint. The 500 meter dash. Or even the run downhill, caught up by the force of gravity. We get the cross-country meet in the pouring rain. The marathon on the hot asphalt. We get the obstacle course of forest through the woods. We get the incline, in the cold winter morning, our breath sucked from our lungs. It’s all different.

I am in no way a runner, mostly because I have come to the conclusion that nowadays, I only run when being chased.

-Kat Keegan

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

June 11th, 2012

Zoom

An enigma wrapped in a mystery.

June 6th, 2012

Zoom

Okay folks. Here is a little Kat rant inspired by this here little rule. Gentlemen, please listen to me, I beseech you. You do not need to stay up late, go shopping or do nice things to prove your love. You do it because you are a generally considerate person.

There isn’t a stigma attached to being in a relationship that you suddenly become an amazing awesome human being. No. If you don’t want to go shopping with me, well you could just tell me. Personally, the way this sounds means I am dragging you from boutique to boutique demanding you agree or disagree on my choices. I don’t need that. Wouldn’t you rather just go to big old warehouses that store secondhand vintage goods? Or maybe tour a brewery? I mean, those are things we do together. Love isn’t about always being stuck to a person, if anything it’s understand we each have things we do as an individual. If you want to come with me to the store as I bitch and complain about nothing ever looks like it does in the lookbooks, well that’s on you.

Or we could talk about it. Like you do with anyone who you care about. Maybe this is why I have such a close relationship to my friends, because I have no problem speaking bluntly, I also have no problem staying up late with Amy, or listening to Kristen’s problems or going shopping with Shawn. I will meet Sarah’s parents because it’s what you do as a human who is sensitive to the needs of all people, not just your boyfriend and girlfriend.

Maybe this is why I am single. I don’t need nice things everyday, I need someone to be working with me to have a sucessful life together, emotionally, socially, physically and any other way we decide. We. Us. Him and Me. It’s how I thought of it as a kid, the “ship” in friendship and relationship doesn’t sail with just one person on board.

Also, I think these “How to be a Lady” and “Rules for a Gentleman” are absolutely idiotic. Why do you need anyone to tell you rules on how you should interact in love or in day to day socieity. You should be able to grasp social queues and polite interactions because it’s polite. It’s like the original rule, the golden one. The only one I think should be taking into account. Of course, you should as a “lady” (Don’t ever seriously proclaim yourself to be a lady, it sounds… like you are forcing the issue) know some clues and hints, but you learn that from your grandmother, or mom. Or learn it like they did, through trial and error. To hell with anyone telling you what you should do, take initiative and find out for yourself. Be polite. It’s the human thing to do. Now, who wants to go shopping?

(Source: theteenagegentleman)

Reblogged from i don't want realism.

May 10th, 2012

How can I miss you when we haven’t even met.
You, sir. My future. I know you. I feel you in my bones.
My morning bones, aching full with sleep. I feel you.
I know you. I know you in the way my hair fall across my face.
In the way my lips meet that of my glass filled with fresh water.
In the curve of my hips, I know you. You meet me, in thoughts and plans.
I miss you. You sir, a part of a past life, a part of a future one.
You meet me in the spaces of my mind, but not yet upon this ground I tread.
I am scared you have found something or someone else.
I am here. Reaching towards a future that is yet to be determined.
My aching bones a matching pair with my heart. Aching for you.
Aching for the content way you hands fit on my fuller thighs.
On the back of my neck, beneath my hair.
I can’t walk but think of you.

(Source: hibiku)

Reblogged from with loving eyes and tired sighs that follow

April 11th, 2012

I have the best followers.

March 16th, 2012

You could, if you happened to have the talent, be the one to unfold my heart. Its delicate creases like steel barriers against false love. Soft paper stiff from its lack of use, pretty pinkish red, some sharp corners, some smooth curves. Bend, tuck, a furrow, the gathering of all my desires. Pretty pleated paper, possessing passion. I am partial to a steady hand, an earnest aid. Take care not to unbend to quick. Because, it is, when it comes down to it, paper thin. Paper soft, and paper weak.

Reblogged from rose-colored

January 10th, 2012

Zoom

Because, who wouldn’t want a ride with Steve.

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

January 8th, 2012

My first college boyfriend, if you can call him that, one evening showed up beneath my apartment window playing the accordion and singing.

We had a very immature relationship, based off of 18 year old desires and 18 year old expectations. We fought, about silly things, but I also mooned over him. Unfortunately for me the mooning overtook reason and I didn’t see the manipulative power that one person in a relationship has (if they choose to abuse it) over the other.

We rarely left my one room apartment. We would read, study, watch tv, talk, laugh. He would play his guitar, write music. I would work on this or that. I went to his place once in the months we had being seeing each other and I learned that I was for him, a challenge. I wasn’t a prude, I knew things, I grew up with boys, I understood the basics of perverted conversation. What I didn’t realize what that when an 18 year old girl, inept at flirting, with loud and boisterous tones, declares that she’d rather wait for a mature relationship to have sex, some thrill seekers take advantage.

The virgin. You know what creature in fiction and fable seeks out the virgin? The dragon. Mythology declares, as far back as dragons can be traced, the myth has the hero & dragon battle. A symbol for the fight to redeem femininity in society. The dragon’s main goal to stockpile the treasure hard to attain, also known as virginity.

/

The vulnerable enchanting woman guarded and captured by a menacing monster, and the hero’s task to rescue her, marry her and establish his kingdom with her. Except that there was no conquering hero on a gallant white steed, instead there was the realization and the break-up. It really wasn’t even a break up, just a fight and him moving onto different pastures. Which to this day may have been his haunt while we had my first “romance”. (Still iffy on whether he was juggling a girl while he and I had been seeing each other)

I realized that he was not a dragon, he was just a cocky on the outside, insecure on the inside college guy. Smart enough, witty enough, individual enough to catch my gaze, also magnificently attractive with a “devilish” good-look about him. And I, Miss. Making-up-for-high-school’s-social-leprosy, was lively and entertaining and soon knew more people than I could count, and I’d imagine most of them had heard through the grapevines of my chastity.

He ended up moving on to a girl who was a little less chaste. I ended up changing the group of friends that had brought him into my life, and they really didn’t seem to mind. I ended up realizing a very important thing: I am the hero of my life, and I don’t need to be saved by something I am supposed to expect. Doesn’t the virgin ever get sick of the possessive and vain dragon? Why doesn’t she do some slaying herself and take some of that stockpiled treasure and do her thing? (Yes, Disney movies are improving this stereotype, I love Mulan.)

He’s not a bad guy, he’s a musician in a band that gets minimal fanfare. He put on some weight, he dated around, ended dropping out our sophomore year. He called me over the summer, said he saw me and that I looked good, that I seemed to have changed, be more confident, more relaxed in my skin. Wondered if I was his friend, even after all the bad. I told him we were. He still invites me to shows and parties. He lives about an hour and a half away. I always decline.

It’s not as though he brings nothing into my life right now, I don’t wish to sound harsh. It’s that he brought what he needed to bring, and now we are on separate paths that are not, in my mind, going to cross again.

But I will always remember the giddy and flushed feeling I had when he showed up playing the accordion and singing, and I will remember fondly the lesson I learned without losing other than time.

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

January 8th, 2012

As this warm weather teases us daily I decided to slip on my pink and white Tretorn Nylite’s and enjoy a day with my best gal Kristen. It started out at her place recuperating after a night of laughs and pool at the local pub, then onto a trip to a farmer’s market in Berk’s County and long-boarding on a deserted college campus.

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

That Kind Of Woman

How love is like a run.

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