GREG

OK "ladies and gentlemen", I have an announcement to make...

I AM HAVING SEX. Again. 

*Sigh* 

(the good kind...of sighing...and sex.)

YES, 

someone made it through the gauntlet-barrier of bad magic, evil-spiritedness, and Illuminati-funded bs and cabal-bullies that plagued me for like a year and half and caused me to nearly lose my whole freaking mind. :(((

But, I must say, it was worth it (???)!... 

Not exactly ringing with affirmation, but close... 

Because… my man is DA BOMB, and not just because he dreamt he stopped some symbolically-conspiracy-oriented RV equipped with a bomb by crashing it. Apparently, it would have destroyed everyone, and he like, saved us ALL by foiling (or helping ME foil) the plans of the "bad guys"... 

Anyway, he's quite cute and good and fine for even MORE reasons than that!!!

Like, for one, he's bisexual and we love to sit around and talk about all the girls we want to eat out and all the boys we want to blow; we watch Magic Mike together and fantasize about having threesomes with every gender, and we just ordered our first strap on {!!} so I can properly bugger his ass lol. It's very hot and fulfilling and just sexy to be into a guy who is also into guys, and me, and other girls, all at the same time. Plus, I can't wait to put mascara on him and make love to him like a man with a woman. Ughhhhhh... yesssssssss. 

He told me that when he was screwing men, sometimes they would talk about how when they watched straight porn, they fantasized about being the woman, which I think is so HOT lol. Idk, it's just different and fun and cool and, honestly, it kinda makes us feel very hip and modern and with the times, or whatever, to both be bisexual...

Which brings up another point about how awesome my man is: he is super old. :D Like, as-old-as-my-dad old... Like, he-just-celebrated-his-65th-birthday-old lol. Interestingly, his birthday is September 21st, which is my favorite Pagan holiday: Mabon, or the Autumnal Equinox!!! But seriously folks, the man is older than my grandfather was when he died, so it's awesome. I can hardly explain why, but it issssss. But let me try: 

First of all, he tells me all these crazy stories from the 70's and 80's about, like, tripping balls at Grateful Dead shows and waking up with his head nearly in the road after the show. He knows about all the things because he lived them, NOT just because he read about them, or heard about them, or watched some documentary or whatever. Nah, bro; THE MAN WAS THERE. He remembers the moon landing, and JFK and MLK getting shot; he knows what it was like when Watergate happened and when the Challenger exploded; he saw bands like Rush and Led Zeplin and was around during Woodstock and was just like, there for that whole sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll, long-hair don't-care, tune-in-and-drop-out scene, man. He lived through all that awesomeness. And he can tell me little, interesting things no book will, like the fact that in the 70's no one even said "dude"; everyone said "man", man. And the other day, he also told me about antennae and how funny/annoying it was to like, get up and adjust that shit until you could see the tv picture again...

We watch stuff about the Merry Pranksters, Ken Kesey, and Neal Cassady and his amphetamine-driven I Ching radio skills. He tells me about the real acid tests, and we watch documentaries about the first topless dancers in America (which were in San Franscisco btw [obs lol]). We talk a lot about politics from modern times as well as ages passed, and we love to read Hunter Thompson out loud to each other, especially stuff about the mad political minds of the 80's and 70's in Generation of Swine and Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail '72. The other day he felt compelled to read me about the boo-hoo incident on the train during the Muskie campaign while I cooked him a vegetarian dinner. It was so cute: he took the time to give me all the details on the backstory of that campaign and its component players as well as info on all the people in Hunter's actual story of giving his press badge to some drunk guy who then used it to harass everyone on the campaign train, as well as the candidate himself... LOLOLOL. I LOVED IT. We also just read aloud to each other a lot. We’ve been reading The Good Earth for a while now.

We compare notes on dealing weed in his time vs. my time, and yet, even better than all this, the man has been sober (mostly) since 2001, so I ain't even gotta deal with all that drunk-ass, drinking-all-the-time, drunken bullshit that still plagues us Millennials...

Yeah, it's great: he doesn't drink or smoke or take any drugs (besides boner pillzzzzz lol). He doesn't drink coffee or soda, like me, and he IS a vegetarian, so I'm eating better, and we drink a lot of tea, which we make for each other all day long. Which is like so, so nice, and so, so novel to me: no one, IN MY WHOLE LIFE, has like, ever made me tea, or, really, done much of anything for me at all. None of my boyfriends did SHIT for me, and my one girlfriend only ever made me vodka and Redbull and macaroni in a box with wayyyyyy too much butter, so I would be fatter than her. :((( 

As for other people ever doing anything at all for me? Like my mom? PSH, that bitch taught me to do my laundry at like seven years old and never, once (probably) got me even a drink of WATER. PSH, she hardly even fed me and my sister: we used to ask people for food everywhere we went, and when we would tell people that our mom didn't feed us, she would get mad and yell at us, while still NOT feeding us. :C

My dad? PSH harder, bro. My dad made ME do shit for him, like clean his whole house every weekend, aerate his lawn with a fucking iron rake (probably the hardest physical task I've ever done- you try it sometime: putting holes in a whole yard for grass seed, with the tines of some metal rake [at like age 15 no less] ughhhhhh it suckkkkkkkkked). He also made me drive his drunk ass around, with his drunk-ass friends, everywhere in high school, while he yelled at me about how "badly" I was driving (probably to "impress" these ppl, as he would think this kind of rancid behavior was "impressive" or “cool” [as if anyone couldn't scream at their kid while wasted...]). :(((((

Anyway, yeah, it's nice my boyfriend makes me tea. :) 

Plus, we have these great teas he’s introduced me to called Yogi tea; the little tag on each bag has a little metaphysical saying on it; and it’s kinda like fortune telling to see which one you get!!! I LOVE IT!

So yes, dating a much older man is priceless. For one, he's chill; like, lived-a-life-already chill. Like has-seen-it-all-and-knows-it'll-all-work-out chill. Like, I-can-handle-my-shit-and-do,-so-I-can-definitely-handle-yours-too chill. It's GREAT. He's just been around, for a while, and to many, many places. He's seen a lot and heard a lot and knows a lot and has been through a lot. He's been married twice so he knows marriage is dumb, but still knows how to commit and like, fix shit around the house and work out issues and communicate and stuff. 

He's also been around long enough to know when he's struck gold, like with ME lol. But yeah, he knows what he's got in me and he's humble enough to admit it; nay, the man worships me (like, puts food in front of me quietly and backs away, half bowing [and only a little bit kidding] while I'm spazzing out, talking to AI about world ending/saving paradigms...), actually, and it's really, really nice to be appreciated, if not just seen and made love to, lol. And, actually, one of the hottest, sexiest things he ever said to me came after sex: he said to me, grey hair akimbo and breathily into my ear, "I suspected you'd never been made love to properly". UUUUUUGGGH SO HOT, right?????? But he was right: I DID NOT KNOW THAT IT COULD BE THIS GOOD. Granted, we had just gotten done fucking for like, hours (which I rly didn’t know was possible??). ;)) He’ll also just say hot things like “I must have you tonight” in the morning times when we’re getting ready. :D Aaaaaand he’ll also say sweet things, like “Macy, I am so full of love for you right now”, often after we’ve gotten into a little spat and I lead him thru it to the other side. I think his ex-wife was just sort of a mutually-assured-destruction type where it was her way… or they fucking threw down and argued for ten years after that or whatever; so he like, appreciates that I have good conflict resolution skill and come from a place of seeking a solution and LOVE when we argue. 😊

Also, somehow, Greg has managed to stay pliable. He's not old-man stubborn (mostly): he really listens, and takes what I say seriously and into account, and he'll even change himself, or how he does things, from time to time. He's an old dog that I teach new tricks to all the time! One time, when I requested he tie a necklace on for me, he said his fingers were too clumsy and I just said simple to feel his way into it instead of looking at it, and then he diddddddd. He did it! He tied my necklace perfectly!! Aaaaaaaaand, this is not, like, new to him or exclusive to my influence: he does new stuff on his own all the time, too. He moves things around and adopts new phrases and slang, and just like, is open to it all. One of the cleverest “new” things he did was use this star-topped cheese knife we got for free at the pantry as a butter knife! 

He takes it all in and decides to either adopt it or let it be and pass him by, like a sane, reasonable, flexible person. I love it! He's more flexible than my younger sister, really. It's impressive. And not just for someone his age: for any person of any age. I know 5-year-olds that take direction/advice way less than my man...

And if you think this is some sugar-daddy-thing: u dead wrong, bro. The man is basically broke; worse than broke really: his debt-to-income ratio is scary cuz his ex-wife is taking him for more than all he's worth: he's still paying their mortgage and lawn care and critter control while she lives in the house basically rent-free for some reason? It's” very complicated” (not) and has something to do with her being a ball-busting-bitch who convinced him he was the antichrist because he looked at porn like, twice, and this "broke" her---so then his feelings were no longer "valid" while she "recovered" from this "betrayal", and he paid/is paying her thru the nose for all this... Anyway, yeah, I'm not with him for his money, bro, jeeze. Also, we like to look at porn now together. :) Not watch porn, btw: we peruse old copies of Playboy for fun on occasion... Well, we did watch one porn clip for a few moments once: these two ladies, an Asian one and what looked like a Jewish one, making love… Then I got too hot and bothered cuz I rly never watch porn and we just did it.😊

We actually met at his job, which is retail for Christ's sake. And not even, like, a good retail job: he's not a manager or anything. He was, but it was too much work for not enough pay he said. Anyway, my man works at Harbor Freight, and I went in there to buy a saw, because I'm a big, butch, half-lesbian who needs power tools to work all my freakin' WOOD. lol. But seriously, when the eclipse happened on 4.8.24 this past year, I wanted to read my runes under the shadowed sky, but I had been thinking about how someone else always makes my runes when I buy them, and how their energy is then just inherently in my fortune telling operandi, and I was starting to think of making my own runes. So, I dithered about in the saw arena at Home Depot and played with the idea of renting some power tools and did, actually, buy a shitty hand saw that wouldn't work for what I wanted to do, which was cut a branch into tiny, round, rune pieces then burn into them the actual runes. This last part was easily accomplished with a pyrotechnic tool from Walmart. They're great and come with many different heads so you can make different designs in the wood or leather or fabric that you are burning designs into. Anyway, alllllll this lead me to Greg's Harbor Freight.

So, yeah, I wanted to make my own set of runes for the spring eclipse, which I decided required a saw; so, like a responsible person, I didn't pay my car note that month and bought a hand saw instead. 😊 Now, I have interesting "personal" history with Harbor Freight, and by personal history I mean I knew an *important* girl who worked there. So, back in my Washington, weed-growing-days, which are documented here btw, I had like, one lady-friend. She was a glass-blowing stripper who was like 18 and "dating" the creep who lived next door to our grow shop in Centralia. She was waif-thin, with curly blondish hair, and big eyes full of hope for a life larger than she was living. She was very cute and cool and would listen to my crazy, half-formed ideas about witchcraft, and breathing in sunlight, and how the Mt. St. Helen's eruption was a satanic devastation of the sacred feminine as we sat outside in the sun at the library or whatever... 

It was nice and she was doing ok, dancing for dudes and blowing glass at her "boyfriend's" apartment and all; but once she told me the fucker “couldn’t understand that she didn’t want him the night she got home after being away on vacation once” and then raped her and was a trash-ass boyfriend to boot, and I saw all that in real time, it was over for him and me, and consequently, her and him. She ended up leaving him and the pole (at my heavy request) and started working at Harbor Freight. So, needless to say, this place has a special place in my heart, because it helped me help a little symbolic-sex-slave leave her tragic life for a new and better one, for the very first time. 

I literally have a memory of my asking my friend if she was ever going to go back to stripping and she was like no, man, Harbor Freight, and kinda crossed her fingers over her heart or whatever, in that gesture that said: this place is special and saved me from a life I didn't want to liiiiiiiiive. You know the one... Anyway, Ms. Cutie Glassblower is doing just fine now with a man who really loves her, a recreational stripper pole in her living room, and her job now is to keep track of the salmon run for the Native American tribe out there... Soooooo, mission accomplished! :)

ANYWAY, Greg, my boyfriend, works at this stripper-saving godsend of a store. Cuz he's a person, responsible for being responsible. I'm more of the doing-the-pointless-shit-that-is-still-important-and-really-makes-life-worth-living type in our relationship. Stuff like organizing the inside of the cabinets, decorating his place, and providing opportunities to grow and experience a higher level of life through art shows and literature and deep, deep conversation over waffles in the middle of the night. U kno. Basically, I make his life worth living and he, in turn, keeps me alive. :D 

The man has literally saved my life. On my first walkabout, I ended up in Hilton Head during the hurricane (which I think came there because of me, actually) and got like, “sick” eventually, as in my skin got bad cuz my eczema broke out and I was scratching myself to death and really uncomfortable and just, like, dying, really; plus just, you know, I was hungry and broke and broken, with nothing at all and no real reason to be there anymore… So when I synchronistically saw his name twice in the library where I was spending a lot of my time one of those miserable days, I hit him up and he came and rescued me! Like, drove five and a half hours down to the coast of South Carolina to pick me up and take me home! Like, what a gentleman!! What a knight in shining armor!!! What a good, good dude. 

Aaaaaaaaaaand I wasn’t even sleeping with him! It wasn’t even like he had pussy waiting for him at the end of that trip. It was just a very dirty, smelly, cranky, crazy bitch he happened to have met one day at his work who needed him very badly right then. I mean, ANGEL, right??!! And he said he really did it just to see my face when I got into a bed for the first time in forty days and forty nights. Which, BTW, was glorious. and glory itself, and just all the glory EVER.  I think he felt it was worth it then, and I know he feels that way now. :D

Anyway, it works with us. :D He's just so pure and spartan and simple that I feel like he's some Avatar-like-carbon-fiber skeleton I wrap my glitter flesh-and-fat around and we make some superhuman, metaperson that can just take on anything...

Some fun facts about Greg, my partner (boyfriend sounds kinda weird cuz he's like a super silver fox and I'm like half-gay and look full-gay lol). His heartbeat is SUPER STRONG. I call him Sir Thunderheart sometimes lol. He also does this super-cute thing where when he sleeps, many times he’ll lay his hands crossed on his chest, like some knight in repose (or, you know, possibly dead, lol). It’s ADORABLE. But, like, yes, his heart and its beat are crazy strong. Like, it annoys me most times I lay on his chest. But besides that, I think it is really cool; he used to be an endurance biker and would bike for like 6 hours at a time up in the Georgia mountains. So the man can go alllllll nightttttttt loooooooooong and his heart is duly and fully fuerte because of this training. :D

He's consequently in good shape, better than me, actually. It's a bit annoying: since he's a vegetarian he eats so, so simply. But like, it's too simple, even FOR a vegetarian. Before me he ate oatmeal for breakfast, a Cliff bar and a piece of fruit for lunch at work, and then came home and steamed brown rice and squash, zucchini, and broccoli and THAT WAS IT. Like, no joke and no derivation. Same food at the grocery store, same food cooked, same food eaten, every day. The man had like three spoons, a few forks, and one flatish bowl/plate thing when we met. One of the first things I bought him was a plate, lol. He did have a few cups and more than a few water bottles, though. These are all covered in stickers, btw, which is something else we share: we both like stickers. I really more-than-like them; I kinda get insane about stickers, like sometimes I'll have a manic sticker-fest where I just stick them all over a letter I'm writing or my car or someone's face... He's actually witnessed this, and we both just laugh about it as I roll around on the floor on top of ALL THE STICKERS EVERRRRRRR... His stickers are mostly Dead Head shit, and he  mainly puts them on his car and all his water bottles; but yeah, he eats really simply and when I complain about not having food or being constipated, he makes jokes about if I've run out of pasta... :| ha ha. NOT. Cuz I haveeeeeeee (run out of pastaaaaaaaa :((( ) 

Another fun thing we share isssssss we're both super into music. Like, it's kinda his whole life, if not his raison d'être. As in his life is kinda empty outside of music (and now me!). He IS a Dead Head (something we argued about constantly in the beginning cuz I'm just not a fan of the Dead symbolism [it’s basic Santería stuff I just don’t think Jerry and Phil and Hunter really understood when they began using it…] and the music itself hardly smooths that over for me...) but besides this, he's soooooooo into 

MUSIC. 

Like, the kind I like, too, tho: like I grew up on, the kind I know: that folksy, Americana, alternative, blusey/bluegrass shit I used to listen to at festivals in the mountains with my dad... And though this is really his only suit, and I wish he were more open to more genres, at least he picked a good one to latch on to. 

We do this thing, that I don't think many people (my ageish) do anymore called... listening to music. As in, we sit around entwined on our big, black, 70's porno chair/couch we bought together at Rooms-to-Go, and just listen to the sound of music... Sometimes we debrief and talk about the meaning of the lyrics, and I might go on about the numerology of the song list with regards to the "meaning" of each song, and he might mention some obscure musical concept that was just utilized in what we just heard... but lots of times we just chill and listen and feel the weight of each other in each other's arms...

We also engage with my specific interests. We go to art shows a lot and see all there is to see there. We look at the people, what they’re wearing, the space, and, of course, the art itself. It's very good. We like it. Sometimes we'll do other stuff like, one time we saw the American artist for the 2024 Venice Biennale speak at a local college and it BLEW OUR FUCKING MINDZZZZZZ. The guy was a gay Native American who grew up outside the US in the 80's and had made it to the tippity top of the art game with his Biennale show this past summer. We're actually pretty into Native America and are fulfilling the 8th prophecy that "in the end" people will return to the native way. We go to pow wows and read native literature and watch documentaries on the Native cultures. He also bought me a badass, native-printed, pink-and-orange jacket at the last pow wow we went to that I LOVE and wear alllllllllllll the timeeeeeee.

Sometimes we go to or take trips to local cities that are not ours and buy shiz, like from my lotion-lady in Athens. We've been to open-mic nights where I read holy books to try to “magically work out the shiz between Isreal and Palestine”. Sometimes we go to city council or the board of elections where he films me making a fool of myself and others (tRump) and then we shmooze with the local political types; and once we did a tour of the local library's new maker-lab where they have 3D printers and laser die-cut things you can just, like, use... We went to my old stomping grounds in Atlanta and saw the bike trails I used to run around on as a kid. Recently we went to the Jimmy Carter Presidential Center, before he died, too... But I know a thing we both like is the S.E.X...

Yeah, we both FREAKS, OBS, and sex for us is about the companionship, intimacy, and, of course, the pleasure: both his and mine, as we BOTH aim to please... But it's also about the "medicine" between us: he really didn't have a mother, and I didn't super have a real dad. And while it is kinda "fucked up" that he's 29 years older than me, it really isn't. I'm an old-soul genius who can hardly talk to these cell-phone-ridden young guns, and he's a quirky, man-child who happens to have a head full of lovely grey hair. We're both people, we're both Americans, we both use power tools and electricity and calories; we both like stickers, music, sugar, Broad City (he calls this the show with the “high girls” lolz), and we love sex. 

And really, there is such animosity betwixt our generations that it feels right and good and exemplary that we love one another...if not just a sheer magical rebinding of a bond that was broken between the Boomers and the Millennials long ago (if not, a little bit, between daddies and daughters and sons and moms, too). I will say, though, that I’ve spoken to my dad once since I’ve known Greg, and it was while he was asleep; and when he woke up, I felt like I had to attend to him instead of my father, and my dad was kinda mad I got off the phone, and it did feel weirdly competitive between the two, if only in my own head; but much more so than with any other partner I’ve ever had….

But, you know, so what if he's been alive longer and has more free radicals (MAYBE :\), and says quaint things like "This won't do" and will just like, pat me from time to time like I'm a cat? I am basically timeless/ancient technology/from a past timeline/bloodline so, like, who the f cares??? No one is grossed out when they see us: people actually love our dynamic, and we certainly aren't grossed out by each other... In fact, compared to some couples around here, we're positively dapper; and compared to some of the monster cretins I've been with, Greg, himself, is a shining, totemic exemplar of masculinity... He opens my door, he brings me little treats from work (like wooden puzzles of flamingos and peacocks I can paint and assemble or just a new, full set of razor blades to cut shiz up with...), and when I put all my jewelry on some hanging wires of his at his place so I could see it all and it all kinda sagged and fell down, he just picked up some screws and stuff at his job and fixed it and hardly said anything about the "trouble"... He's a Godsend and I thank God for him daily...

Especially when he's down there. I mean Boiiiiiiii, the man can werk itttttt. You don't get through two decade+ marriages without learning a thing or two about women... Or how they operate below the belt... But yeah, Greg is DYNAMITE in bed; as in, he's long and hard and red and phallic and when you light him, he blows UP. LoL. 

JK, but really, 

it's FIRE. Our bed is on FIRE with passionate love… 

There is a ring of FIRE and FIRE in the hole and we just burnin’ it up bayyybeeeyyyyyyyyyy. 

But it’s not always the raging forest fire I'm used to btw; sometimes it's a very slow burn that builds and builds and then consumes us both... Like, we really HAVE fucked for hours before. One time, I'm pretty sure we were engaged in sexual activity for like, three whole hours, people... Of course it wasn't like, pene to vagine the whole time, but we were definitely naked, in bed, and thinking/talking about what to do next/what we'd just done the whole time... And I'd never done that, never even come close... Men my age or younger (or even older) just don't do that. 

It's very wham-bam, thank you mam, over in 20 minutes or less shit these days. It's a lot of jostling and jamming and just... going hard for a short time or whatever with sex now. The sexual atmosphere is pretty...flat, disaffected, and just… loveless these days:  it's very uncomfortably stripped of intimacy and any type of connection. Modern sex is kinda desperate, desolate, and clinical if not outright 1984's "furtive"; it seems that sex definitely just isn't sexy anymore... 

And I thought that was what sex was... And it can be, obviously, all sex is sex (is it tho?), it's just... I didn't super even know there were other kinds of sex... Way better kinds… 

Like the kind where you aren't focused on cumming. 

As y'all know, If you really read my blog, I don't do that :[[[ and really, neither does he, much. I mean he can and will, but it isn't that easy at his age? Maybe? IDK, but he's not like, so focused on it and if it doesn't happen, it's totally fine; like, we hardly notice or care because he does it so rarely anyway... So, when cuming isn't the big thing about your sex, all the other stuff ISSSSSSSS. And I don't just mean foreplay or cuddling or whatever, I mean the whole dang thing... 

What I wear, how we start, how we're positioned, how those positions progress, what tools we use (being half-gay, the man has a whole collection of colorful dildos and vibrators in various shapes and sizes and stuff... :D), and other things like the lighting (we LOVE candles...), what incense we burn while we engage, and what music we play while we're dooooin itttttttt. Lol. We also like mirrors and I recently acquired this fun new toy that is a pink, fluffy-tail butt plug... ;))

Sex becomes creative (but not productive- I had my tubes tied, THANK GOD) and more "about the journey" than the "destination" when you’re not so focused on your orgasm... It's very pleasant and we like to draw it out and PLAY. I must say, it also helps that neither of us have children or even want them... There are no kids to interrupt us or compare my age to or bother us in any way at all... WE are the kids, and we allow ourselves to be. 

That part of both of us has not died yet (like so many people’s inner child seems to have) and sometimes I'll just play with his downstairs for fun while we watch tv or whatever, just because he likes it and I like it cuz I like to play with my hands sometimes ;) He doesn't cum from this and I don't care that he doesn't, and really, neither does he. He's too old for "blue-balls" and, really, he's just glad I like him and his junk and want to touch it and am like, there. And I'm just glad the Illuminati didn't get him, and he likes me and my crazy-person life/mind, and my pregnant-lady lookin’ body and lesbian haircut lol.

So some interesting things about GregPenis. He said that his whole life, his penis had never quite “filled up” and it was therefore like, a bit crooked? He said something along the lines of “a chamber in it had just never filled properly” or something and this had left him a big flacid or like droopy on one side, ie crooked?? But I never noticed this, because he said it had never happened with me and that I had “healed his dick”. Which is nice. I mean, it made me happy to have this nice, pretty, pink, white-man dick, for sure. And he seemed pretty into it as well, having never felt the full force of his manhood as he now could (with me). And let me tell you, he celebrated this and made use of his new, super-filled dick with full force, for sure… 😉

Also, let me take a moment, millennial men, to talk about boner pills, because there’s some things to say and to know, for sure. First of all, you gotta take em at some point, and that’s just the way it is. Thems the bricks, papa. Got to. Or else, idk, it just don’t work, something about the blood vessels wearing out or collapsing over time or something idk. But, honestly, God bless em, or all you little old dudes would just be s.o.l and we older broads would be hunting in the kids’ section… But basically, one day, you’ll find your little guy doesn’t stand at attention like he used to, and like you’re used to, and like you want him to. Your woman might be all sad and complain and be like is it meeeeeeeeeee???? And it won’t be. It won’t. And really, it won’t be “you” either. It’s just wear and tear: natural wear and tear on the old man noggin. Idk, but yeah, at some point, he’ll let you down, lol, pun intended? So u gotta get him back up and in the game and perky for your lady, and, yourself. Right? Right! So, um, I guess there are doctors involved, and maybe insurance companies? I know there are pharmacies involved, cuz greg would talk about picking them up and how the lady he got them from was so, and so and whatever and what have you etc. But yeah, he got them, and one day, you will tooooooooooo. 😊

Ok so, once you have them, for modern times, as far as I can tell, there are sort of two options: taking them daily just in case, or taking them before you know it’s going down. Now for some reason, I can’t recall exactly what Greg did and I think this is because he switched it up. For one thing, this was new to him, too. He hadn’t had sex with a woman for like five years before me! I think at first, he was taking them daily, but he kept running out as his doctor only prescribed them weekly at first, I believe because they can adverse effects on your heart, or they mixed with his other meds or something. Then he started taking them when he felt like it, or when we discussed doing it later, cuz you need a few hours? Idk, I can’t really remember, cuz eventually he started taking natural supplements, which were really just witchcraft as they were like apple skin, grape skin, and red something… anywho, these worked enough for us to stop talking about and just do it. He got it up just fine after he figured out the cocktail lol. But when it was before the natural stuff, the sort of time limit, prior knowledge needed, window-style of pill taking shit was pretty unsexy. And feeling like we’d “wasted” a pill was not fun for us either. It was kind of a lot at first, but once you figure it out it’s just like any other sex aid like lube or dildos or poppers: you just use em like you got to and then do it, cuz obviously, it’s worth it!

Also, I do this thing where when he does even one nice, over-the-top (if barely), thing I like, like taking down my bedroom light or just something a lil extra, I’ll go down on him in a fun way: like just get down on my knees in the middle of the room unexpectedly and blow him. I like to do this. I like to surprise him, and please him, and thank him, and encourage him to do lil nice things for me. Plus, the man RESPONDS to sex like no other man alive??!! I mean, I hate it when a guy comes and you can’t tell, just deadpan, nothing on his face: no sounds, no motions, just… nothing. It’s so boring and unsatisfying and anticlimactic. But Greg! I mean wow. It’s kinda like he’s a woman. He like, gets INTO it. He moans and breathes hard and sucks in his breath and says my name and just like blows his load so hard when he does he’ll scream and like collapse! It’s very exciting and just what I want.

We go pretty hard in bed, I must say. I love to give him head as he stands over me, on the side of the bed, while he’s fingering me cuz I’m laying perpendicular to him. He loves to eat me out after he’s fucked me a bunch, and actually…he’ll eat it all if I let him... 😉 We 69 forever if we can. We both don’t mind mess and I think he actually likes it. I like his cum on me and he likes to smell me on his face later. 😉We just like it; we like sex, we like each other, we’re hot and hot for each other. It’s pretty satisfying. 😊

Plus, the man looks like Richard Gere, especially from the side. It's weird af at times... I'll be looking at him, which I love to do btw- I love to just watch him like I never have any other person- but I'll get an angle on him and it's just like FLASH! Edward Lewis is in my bed or next to me in the car and it feels WEIRD, man. Like, really, it does. 

I think a lot of women alive today have been conditioned by Dick Gear somewhat and I guess I'm no exception... But yeah, tis strange to be riding with Richard, but not bad! I mean, as far as older, silver-foxed men go, Dick Gear is pretty hot, right?? I think so... Obs. And Greg's skin is so softtttt because he’s old enough for it to be just loose enough to be. :) And actually, he's actually really well-formed, physically, and nicely proportioned and has a good shape and lovely muscle tone. My favorite part of him is his back lol. 

I've never even noticed a man's back really, but his is NICE. I think it's because his trade was really being a carpenter LOL. So, he basically worked wood with his hands (which are also very nice) all his life, and I guess he used his back muscles all these years to have made it nice like that? Idk man but I LIKE IT; I LIKE HIS PRETTY, PRETTY BACK. :D Plus, I’m obviously into that whole Jesus-was-a-carpenter thing (thought that technically isn’t true…there are like, no real trees in that area of the world, ppl. Jesus, or Yeshua, was something like a stone mason in his time).

Some shit I don't like: because Greg is a Virgo-Libra cusp and kinda gay and definitely in touch with his feminine side, dating him can be a bit like having a girlfriend. Like, one time, I told him I'd buy him food, then forgot I did so, and when we got to the restaurant counter and I bought myself food but not him (I did asked him and he didn't seem into it and I was like yeah I don't wanna pay for a tortilla with fucking beans in it, I can make you that at home). When I sat down with my food and ate and noticed he was radiating pissy vibes, I asked him what was up and he didn't wanna say at first, like a girlfriend; then it all came tumbling out, also like a girlfriend. 

He was like you promised me food and then didn't buy it for me and I didn't wanna make a scene at the counter but you promised and didn’t and now I'm mad: sooo much like a girlfriend, right??? And I was like, I'm sorry, I forgot, let me buy you food. And he was like no, it's too late, I don't want it… like a lady will do, in instances such as these, on occasion. And I, of course, ordered him fries (which turned out to be like, the best fries I've ever had, incidentally)... But he threw a little shit fit right there in the Mexican restaurant. He’s a big fan of what I call his “tempest in a teapot” moments…

Also, if we get in a big fight and I go off and leave, it's not %100 that my shit won't be at my house when I come back; as in he'll eject it from his life and house. 

He'll pack it all up from his place and drive it over to mine and unload it into my house and leave it there. Like a mad girlfriend. 

He can also complain a lot, about dumb shit I can't change; shit like the sun being too bright or it being too hot out; but he's gotten better since I called him (a bitch) out on this a few times... Also, the man really can just be a bitch. He won’t break the law with me!!! And granted in some ways that’s laudable and good and I appreciate that in him, but it’s not like I’m a gang-banger or slangin tar or shooting up nursing homes! I mostly just want to trespass, and leave nothing behind nor take anything or change anything in any way! I just need to look around sometimes for magical purposes, and he wont do it with me!!! Which is fine, but it makes me wonder if he really is ride or die…

Like that time I got into with that manager at those two shows, and was escorted out of the concert by police the last time. When it all went down, he didn’t even question the police or the manager or any of it. He wasn’t like, hey, why are you bothering my girlfriend? He was just like, “Yes officer, we’ll leave” and walked out. Which is fine, for some people, but I’m a spirit-sniping, shit-stirring bitch a lot of times, who needs a man hard as nails by her side at those times; someone who can roll with all those punches and punch back if need be. Not only did Greg quietly acquiesce to the “authority” in this whole scene, he kinda gave me shit in the car on the way home, saying I was just being a “Karen”. Now, I wasn’t just being a Karen, there was more to it than that, and I take umbrage with that phrase anyway, as Karen is a perfectly good name and the name of my favorite aunt. Granted, when I realized I’d left my purse back at the “scene of the crime” and therefore couldn’t retrieve it, he DID go back and get it for me…

Also, he really needs things to be in order or he "can't function" or “chill” at times. Like if I don't do the dishes and he comes home from work and sees them, most times he won't say anything, but he'll do the dishes (by hand) until they're done, even if he's super tired and I know it.

-Yeah, I used to love that he did the dishes by hand; I thought it was so cute and quaint and orderly, and I actually loved to watch him do them: all shirtless and silver-haired and carefully rinsing each dish and placing it perfectly in the drying rack... It was straight-up straight-girl pornnnnnn.- 

But now I know his feet hurt, and he's tired from work, and he doesn't want to be doing dishes: he just feels so compelled to do them before he chills. So, I do them now so he doesn't have to, which I should do anyway, as I don't work; but like, sometimes I wish he could just sit down and chill without caring that there are fucking dishes to do... 

Also, the man can get FLUSTERED; also about dumb shit, like driving or being at a store too long. One time, he had "a hard time" merging in our small town with its little lanes and had to go home and drink his "calming kava tea” like it was heroin after an accident, or the cure for cancer or some shit... 

He is also very bad at directions and has no sense of where he is at most times...  And if we go anywhere outside our town, we really have to leave early so he can have time to freak out on the way… about the way… It’s kind of a lot… 

Although, he says that this is so because I hypnotize him, and he finds me too intoxicating, alluring, and compelling to pay attention to anything else... :) I like this, but it wears on me when I have to give him directions to the library for the 75th time...

But other than that, it's great. 

I actually fell for him over music, and my favorite band no less. And this isn't like, oh he took me to Coldplay so I sucked his dick... Nah, bro. It's like, 

I have always and forever, my whole life, loved this little, 90's, Atlanta band, Billy Pilgrim, that disbanded shortly after it was formed... My dad introduced me to them and played them, like, the whole time I was growing up, and they have been the soundtrack to my life ever since. I've seen them a few times, but not for like 27 years, right? Cuz they don't play anymore, at all, as it’s no longer the 90’s. ☹ Like, no more favorite band and hasn’t been for sooo long. :( SAD. But after I played them for him and he liked them, one day, after he rescued me from certain death at the hands of the hurricane on Hilton Head, he just happened to look for tickets to see them and they just happened to be playing in a month IN ATLANTA, for a weekend!!!!!!! 

Like, MIRACLE, right???!!!!!!!! 

Ugh, I know...

So WE WENT, and it was there that I fell in love with him. It was an AMAZING show, like a life-changing, peak experience, on a day whose numerology I have sooooo much trouble with; and I remember thinking that if he can provide such an event and opportunity and experience and feeling, what can’t he do??? Plus, the man had rescued me, saved my life, knight-in-shining-armor style… So, I kissed him three times that night, out of sheer joy and gratitude, and each time he lit up and kind of whistled and the last time, he sort of shouted. 😊 We got together shortly thereafter, on his birthday (I waited, once I knew I wanted him, for this special day 😊). I hadn’t thought of him as romantic material inherently just because he’s so old! Like, 29 years is a whole life, man; almost my whole life!!! But after I realized what a gem he is, and I saw Mr. Gere in him, and eventually saw his actual physical beauty… It was on. That night, on his birthday, he was actually experiencing a herpes breakout (his ex-wife was a ho who gave it to him from her extramarital affairs ☹ ) and I was on my period, so there were slight barriers to our getting together. We weren’t going to, we were going to wait, because while he can handle menstrual blood as a man of a certain age who has been around women and two wives for years, I didn’t know that I was willing to contract herpes from him if I could just wait for another time… But once we got home, and had spoken the words aloud that we desired one another, and it was his birthday, and he’d wanted me so badly for months, and I’d wanted him for a few days before that (I remember putting my head in his lap a few days before this and being like, horny about it, which never happens to me, and deciding to just wait for the Big Moment)… well…

we nearly fucked on top of his car in the parking lot of my apartment complex that night, because we decided we didn’t care about what could keep us apart that night: we just knew we wanted to be together. :D So, um, yeah, I might have herpes now… WORTH IT.

Greg had actually been courting me properly, lol, for months before the Billy Pilgrim show or his birthday when we got together. It was nuts/fun. We met in late March I think, though he remembers that very clearly because he said when I came in there was like, a lighted halo around me to him, and he was like: THIS GIRL. This Girl is Someone. 

I just thought he was a nice, cool guy who knew a lot about power tools; but when I told him about why I was buying a hand saw, he told me he’d heard of the runes and then my interest was piqued. Plus, at this point in my life, my Illuminati bullies were so thick on my social ground, that I was desperate to hang out with anyone. So, I told him I would come back when my project was done and read his runes for him. And this I did. But it was kinda cosmic love at first sight, for him. I, on the other hand, as someone who identifies as a Christ, am available to love anyone and everyone equally…

So, once I drove my ass up to the Garden of the Gods in Illinois to see the eclipse and christened my runes under it, I went back to him and did, indeed, read his runes.

It was funny, because thus began something between us that has always been: excellent timing. I came in that day to read his runes right as he was taking his lunch break, so he lead me back into the break room and I sat with him and read his fortune while he ate lunch. I was actually hungry so he gave me a little cup of some fruit, I think it was mangoes. I thought this was nice and cute but when I read his runes, I could tell he was all fucked uppppppp. 

It did not look good, and it did not look like it was going to get better. Now, this inspired in me what I think all Christ’s feel: a desire to help. I want to help everyone, everywhere, all the time anyway, but this sweet, gentle, old-man-carpenter was clearly in need of it. And as I sat and talked to him about his kind of empty life and told him of my very full and fantastic albeit lonely life, his last rune shifted somehow. It went from being a very good rune-reversed, to being a perfectly upright rune of very good fortune. I told him about some things I was going to do that holiday weekend, like go to city council that Monday night, and when he said he was interested in politics and had been trying to be “more civic”, I invited him to that and a car show I was going to on Sunday, as I had no one with which to attend these things anyway. We exchanged information and as I left and went about my day, for some reason, I felt like it was going to be different this time, that maybe THIS TIME it would work out. It being the course of our relationship, as all my others (recent and otherwise) had failed, due mainly to Illuminati-interference. See my post here for more info on that swath of Hell: BUT it DID work out, and it WAS different!!!

And, interestingly, that branch of Satan’s tree ended for me that very night. I had had a once-rescheduled date with an old flame of mine I met at the farmers market that night. I was pretty sure he was “compromised” but I had nothing else to do, so I figured why not get dressed up, stood up or canceled on, and then go out alone, as usual. And, of course, the fool’s fool DID cancel, as I knew he would, but thennnnnnn…………. GREG called me! Because he was born in 1959. And I picked up, because I was born in 1988; and I was happy to talk to anyone (especially then) and he asked me to come with him to Athens that night, for a Pink Floyd cover band concert. I agreed, whipped up some chocolate sauce and took some cinnamon, bone-shaped cookies I’d gotten at the pantry with, and off we went!

On the way there, I’m pretty sure I verbal dhireahed all over him because I was so lonely and twisted up about my secret society cage at the time. He took it well and when we got there and I was cold, he bought me a long-sleeved shirt so I wouldn’t be. 😊 He watched the concert while I watched the laser show and took videos of it on the trees since I’m not much into the Floyd. And thus began our love 😊 Going to concerts sort of became our thing, at some point, as he just does it as a matter of course…

And!

ONE TIME DRIVING BACK FROM A PHENOMENAL SHOW, WE WERE LISTENING TO ALBUMS ON THE WAY, AND WE DISCOVERED WE HAD THE SAME FAVORITE ALBUM FROM bRUCE cOCKBURN called cHARITY of nIGHT.  It was cool to realize that together.

We discussed what it meant, and by that I mean I told him: we feel greater charity at night: ppl need shelter, we might want to share someone’s bed, we all kinda need food and sleeping arrangements, there’s a certain danger in some places and times at night that can be alleviated by companionship… like for men with pushy whores they don’t wanna screw, or for women with low highwaymen and any sort of problem-person in the night… But we discovered we both like Mr. Cockburn’s same album very much. And so we listened to it, the whole thing, that night on the way home from a whole other amazing music moment… Something about Turkish drummers…

Something else fun about Greg is BBUUSSHH. He likes ittttttt: I ain’t gotta shave my shit all the dang time now for these silly young’uns… I make him wipe it clean and whip it out shaved, but he likes my hairy-ass pussy, cuz he grew up in the 70’s and saw it that way first. He came of age in a wet beaver with peltttttttt because in the 70’s texture and hair was totally fetishized and was all the rage back thennnn.

We actually have this fun, black, kinda plush, kinda shag, kinda ribbed, 70’s porno couch,slash,chair we like to fuck on and watch tv on and display my downstairs hairstyles on lololol. I like him to rub me down with lotion on said couch and sometimes, cuz he’s funny and meticulous, he’ll put down a towel and then as we do this, I’ll realized it was a good idea cuz there’s slippery lotion butter melting off me and onto his hands and my back and possibly the backs of my thighs… definitely my buttocks, surely my stomach, around my arms and elbows and my feet get the full treatment sometimes... (Lol, I realized how hard-in-the-paint he was for me once, before we got together, when he picked up the fork I use to scratch myself and was going to eat with it and I told him not to and what it was for, and he, like, mad a big show of licking it right then and there…) Anyway, I like it a lot, being something of a skincare freak whose perpetual problem is that she can’t seem to lube up her own back……..

I gotta say this tho: we are a pretty farty, booty-oriented, scatological couple… 😉 I have a plethora of butt problems that he is only too happy to talk about, as he is something of a self-proclaimed butt slut. :D We fart a lot and poop a lot and one time we talked about getting side by side toilets so we could hold hands and shit together. LOL. I think we were kidding??? Plus, I mean, he likes to take it up the butt. He loves it really, and I get why. That shit feels good, getting’ all stretched out and excavated back there… It’s NICE. People don’t understand, butt stuff feels good, very good. But whatever.

It's funny cuz as I read thru what I wrote about Greg back in the day, I say he’s chill. HA. The man CAN be chill, if nothing is going on. He can be DEAD he’s so chill, if he wants. But you get a little blood going, you get some loud noises involved or that must-merge things in traffic, he is not chill. He freaks out. For him, at least. He gets all twirly and confused and aggrieved and worried and silly, man!!! He just looses his shit! I think it’s cause he doesn’t have a firm foundation in life: his mom wasn’t much of a mom and his dad kinda checked out too early on parenting, like mid-high school. Plus, he’s not much on God and was a raging alcoholic, and has almost no friends, so, um, yeah, for him, world-ending paradigms and calamity are just like, around every corner??? IDK, but Greg can freak the fuck out, fo sho. It’s not random or extreme, by any means: he has his certain things he can and can’t handle, and he really doesn’t yell or move all that quickly even, but he’ll just sort of stop functioning and shut down or get all anxiety-ridden and too-watchful or he’ll just up his pace a big and kill all the fucking ants in his kitchen shirtless… Which was kinda funny, but one of the first times I saw him “freak out”.

So there is some funnyish stuff going on with us, though. And it isn't us, specifically. It's a bit our archetypes. IDK… it’s dense and complicated but there is a way in which he is the archetypal old white man Freemason and I am the archetypal prostitute/Magdalene, much like Dick Gere Lewis and Ms. Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. I think about that movie a lot, with regards to Greg and me. It's weird, but there is an interesting sub-dynamic going on with Greg and I that I have pieced together after all this time. I have not told him about it yet, but it goes something like this: 

As the freedom-fighter, prostitute-surrogate, sacrificial-lamb-gotten-lose-and-is-now-pissed-and-coming-for-you-fuckers of all the sex slaves that I am, Greg represents something unique to me/that energy. As an erstwhile projection of Richard Gere and so, Edward Lewis (and even his dumb character, Mayo, in An Officer and a Gentleman), Greg represents to that/my wayward-woman, prostitute-energy, a type of “savior”. 

Yes, Edward Lewis saves Vivian from the streets with his ill-begotten money; and yes, in a way, Mayo saves whatshername from the ignominy of endless life in a factory after having failed to “catch an officer” in her youth. And so, in a different-but-same way, Greg has saved ME from my life as a secret-society-plagued witch, so hell-bent on the destruction of what destroys her that she is just destroying herself in another way. Because as we all know, before Greg, my love life was just like harrowing and broken and treacherous, and NOT because of ME (though I endured many conversations with folks who tried to ask if/imply that it was ☹). 

In addition, his workplace reinforces this fact. He works at HARBOR FREIGHT: aka a symbolic sex slave spot. Since the newly enslaved come into America mostly through HARBORS as FREIGHT (in shipping containers) this “makes (symbolic) sense”. They even use shipping palettes as one of the main magic symbols for these people in this sick system, and every time I see one used thusly, it makes mesick and I either kick it, flip it over, or just drag it somewhere else. And all this is like, subjectively reinforced through my experience with my little friend, Ms. Ex-Stripper out West, who also used Harbor Freight as “a way out” of that life…

 So, in a lot of ways, Greg and I are destined to be, at least for a time. A bit, he is also “my way out” of the devastation of my prior life. And my experience with the jailor/cooler at Moonshadow that time when I rescued the ODing girl last Imbolc, also reinforces this narrative. It’s like this Richard Gere projection/archetype-energy is there to be a rescuing bridge for (mostly) women out of the sex trafficking trade. It’s like the first guy was the “bad” version of this, who actually kept the women down and enslaved or whatever; and I recognized this, called him out on it, and “escaped” his clutches that night by not fucking him “on my way out” as “payment” for my “freedom” (or rather, not symbolically, my pleasure). 

And then I met another Richard Gere projection at the Marianne Williamson event, but he was eclipsed by an Aaron Eckhart type and a beautiful Indian girl who looked like Cher/Jessica Alba when we all jumped into bed and he did not. But he was hardly anything. But the next Gere-projection, numba three, was GREG, who SAW me, and RECOGNIZED my brilliance instantly, and FOUGHT FOR ME, and has consequently RESCUED me several times since then (he sent me the money that got me home on my second walkabout in Orlando). Plus, I feel a little like I “manifested” Greg by always thinking about how the old man creeps who watch me (and everyone btw) are probably not bothered by my ridiculous-looking figure because they, themselves, look ridiculous, because they are so old. 

And so, as Vivian does to Edward, I also “rescue him right back”. Without me, Greg’s life is so stable as to be flat and boring and just like, nothing. He gets up, goes to work, eats his whatever food, doomscrolls, maybe makes a little (shitty) computer art (as he took to calling it after I did once, having seen what AI art is in comparison), goes to sleep, rinses, and repeats. He has no real family (his brother is estranged and lives far away) and no real friends (the regulars at these music shows he goes to are really only acquaintances). This monotony is only ever broken up sporadically by intermittent Dead shows, and by Dead shows I obviously mean Grateful Dead cover bands, because the actual band is, well, mostly dead.

But with me around, well, you can imagine.

The thing is, we do fight. And badly, at times. We used to fight about art and how he over identified with it and when he asked me about a piece he liked and I told him why I didn’t like it, he’d get butt hurt. Once we broke up for a day over an argument about how I hate that he uses Amazon. Now we’re broken up about how he won’t pay for certain little things for me every now and then when I ask. I feel this is an extension of his scarcity-mindset, which I find unacceptable, as well as just a complete shutting down of the good life and therefore a misunderstanding of what life is really all about. To me, we incarnate to experience the juicy pleasure of physicality, which sometimes includes buying stuff. And it’s not like I ask for much or crazy expensive things. It’s just that every now and then, when I see something special (which, granted, is all the time :\) and I don’t have the cash for it, I ask him to buy it for me. And recently it’s felt like he’s just started to automatically say no. Like he doesn’t even look at the thing, or see its potential value for art or magic, or the fact that if he denies me, I’ll be mad and might leave, as I have done now. And this closed-down mindset has felt like its translated into experience as well, like we’ve “settled down now”, and he no longer wants to go out and do what we used to and what I want to. It kinda feels like he thinks he’s just “got” me now and no longer has to try to “keep” me with the little fun gifts and events he used to…

Also, there is so much of me that just doesn’t get to BE with him. Like,  I LOVE rap and hip hop and many kinds of music, none of which I can really listen to with or around him as he just hates it. I can’t play pool because he doesn’t like how “loud” it is, and really, we can’t go to bars at all because he’s a recovered alcoholic. So I can’t really drink around him and when I smoke weed, he often gives me shit!

Greg will also just make these reactionary, inflammatory, unnecessary remarks about shit that are really just bitch-ass. Like how if I didn’t get a new skillet we were going to die from, like, the rust on it? And granted my WOK was gross, but not like desperately disgusting or anything, and I did get a new skillet, but jeeze bro. Complain much? Unnecessary much?? incendiary much??? And one time, because I got his stovetop a lil dirty, he was like I’m not going to let you cook over here anymore, which is like a world-ending paradigm for me! Cooking is what I do! Like them fightin’ werds, bro, and grounds for a brake-up for someone like me. Because beyond the food-as-sex metaphor I live, I just like to cook!!!

So, one time, when I was doing a reading on us, for a position that identified him, we got the Ehiwaz rune, or the rune of the eight-legged horse Slepnir that Odin rides. Essentially it is the rune of the steed and all that that entails: the total enmeshment of one entity and another, the way a horse and rider become ONE UNIT, and sort of travel together yoked like that. So really, I kinds feel that way sometimes. For one, we kinda think each other’s thoughts and definitely are on each other’s schedules, with that sort of perfect timing thing between us we have. And he definitely “carries” me, in that the man has the wheels in our unit: I ain’t got no car rn. But this is fine, cuz when it works, I feel like I just have a chauffeur, because he opens the door for me and holds my hand while we drive 😊.

So really, about this money thing, I guess you don’t except your horse, your car, your steed, to buy you shit, right? That’s not their function. They carry you, guide you, take you there; support you, give you a type of shelter and companionship, and you fucking RIDE (eggplant emoji). But, you know, I guess if I could just adjust my perspective and maybe my spending habits, which are fine and good and doable, I could be with him better??? Because after my initial rage wore off at alllllll the dumb things I thought he had “done to me” or “failed me by” and “lacked”, I remembered all the sweet things he DID buy me. 

The long sleeve shirt on our first “date” (I didn’t know it was then 😉) he bought me so I wouldn’t be cold. All the knives and blades for cutting shit up, and all the glues and polymers for putting shit together he’d gotten me at his job. The fun stuff like my unicorn beanie hat, the wooden puzzle/art/figurines of a flamingo and a peacock he got me that I put together and painted for my baby cousins- not to mention all the time’s he’s taken me over there to do my secret night-ninja gift drops, cuz I’m not allowed to see them ☹. He bought me a tea pot, a plunger thing for when my sink got stopped up, and he used to get me trash bags from his work, and then take my trash out, all before I was sleeping with him!! :D 

He also got me the purse I wanted for Yule, a very nice, on sale, Karl Lagerfeld crossbody that I can also carry, in white leather with a big, metallic, red heart in the middle that has been recessed to the second level/layer with all this fun, glossy hardware. We also traded robes, because mine was too small; when we did he said he’d traded up, cuz mine was way nicer: a soft sleek, silver. And for one, I will NEVER forget or wear out or cease to appreciate my Native American jacket we got at the pow wow. Let me rephrase that: that he BOUGHT me at the pow wow. He paid cash, I think he had the exact amount left on him by that time, and he gave it all to the guy in exchange for my fabulous, pink and white and black and orange native-print jacket I wear allllllllll theeeeeeeeeee timeeeeeeeeeeee. Ugh. I LOVE IT. And I love him. I do. 

When we “broke up” (I feel like we do that a lot) he had, for the first time, put on the vintage orange sweater with black rings at the neckline and wrists that I gave him at Yule that the Universe ordered me to order for him. And he was wearing the necklace with the white cotton twine and copper casing and wooden rune Rhado I’d made him a few days before. And he looked sooooooo cute. It was bonkers. I was sooooo mad, but he had never looked better and it was a weird cognitive dissonance moment where I wanted to slap him around as I ride his dick and tell him he was pretty, all at the same time. UGH.

And really this “fight” is pretty dumb. All we need is adjustments. I need to be better with MY money so I don’t lean on his. He needs to be less parsimonious so I don’t internalize his tendency toward scarcity-consciousness. I need to prolly ask for shit like %20 less and he needs to say yes, and not an automatic no, prolly like %20 more. We both need to be cooler and nice and just…adjust. Really, we hardly know one another. We haven’t even known each other a year and we’ve been “dating” since the fall equinox, so like, not even 6 months. I don’t know his limits, he doesn’t know mine. And REALLY, this is my fault, though I couldn’t have known or seen that, because once we got into it, the whole money, living life, scarcity-mindset thing, he capitulated almost immediately and was like you’re right, I do need to change, I can see what you’re saying, I’m sorry. Which is fantastic, like, girl-fantasy-fight porn, right???

But I’m a dumbass who doesn’t know him or his history like I could, I guess, and I kinda of thought I could decompress from all that fighting and non-fighting we’d been doing where I’d been disappointed but hadn’t spoken up and just like, complain some more, shove more shit down his throat. He was not down for that, and I can see why. After he apologized and saw the light, I did not, I kept at him and eventually he got upset again and started firing back with, “All my life, women have just put me down. You’re doing exactly what they all do. Why do I put up with this?”. And I was like, oh no, and tried to fix that, cuz it was apparent that I’d gone too far in my unloading on him, and I should have just stopped at his understanding I had a point. But he was in the throes of despair after I’d shit all over his apology for like 30 min, and it just got ugly again…

The silly thing is, in these two weeks of hiatus, I read back through a bunch of my old journals and there’s this one entry where my dad and I had this shouting fight over how my sister couldn’t come on vacation with us because she had to work and he wasn’t being nice to her about it. She had apologized contritely and kinda abjectly, and he just kept being a dick to her, and shouting at her and being mean, so I got in HIS face and was like, look fool, she already apologized and feels bad and there’s nothing more to it! So back off! You ain’t gotta keep grinding the ax like this! And so it went, and as I read my handwriting from like 2008, I was like ohhhhhhhh, I did to Greg as my father had done to my sister with the whole beating a dead horse thing. And I realized a thing, and learned a thing, and saw differently and can probably do differently now. Plus, I always think it’s good to compromise in the realm of percentages. Like will I completely stop noticing pretty, fun things and wanting them and, possibly, asking for them? NO! But can Greg and I talk about instances and frequencies and maybe possible parameters for such things? YES! Will that prevent future fights?? Probably like by 40%!! So, Greg baby, I’ll ask less if you’ll give more, and I’ll bitch less time if you’ll bitch less often, and I’ll take you to the end, if you’ll be my good beginning! Happy Valentine’s Day, babe! XOXO