Here we go. A bit of resentment from Deb---and then she will resume to a normal life after posting this. (Yeah right)
People who know me personally, like my friends and family will probably be a little ticked off or concerned. Don’t read the blog, and you won’t get ticked off. Don’t show your friends or coworkers the blog unless you have read a variety of my writings, because each post is very different from another. I can be talking about Christianity one day, dog attacks and bad date stories from the past, to sex and lesbianism on the next post. So don’t get your shorts in a bunch if I happen to post something that makes you gasp and cringe.
As I’ve mentioned before, my partner and I have been together for twelve years now. We had a little break in between due to some conflict—which is normal, but we’re very happy and I love her more than anything. Now, I have three older sisters who are all straight. Two of my sisters are married and one of my sisters lives with her boyfriend of eighteen years I believe? (Am I correct on that sis?) Not sure. But it’s a long time they’ve been together.
Anyway, there was a time I could remember having a conversation with a couple of my sisters one day. (And I will not mention names so you can guess all you want sis!) I know, I’m such a bastard. So we were sitting, talking about relationships and what not. One of my sister’s says, “Well, one day I would like to have a baby, but I’m still not sure. I want to see how everything works out financially and see how it goes.”
I piped in and said, “That’s a smart way of looking at it, I would want to wait until Madelene and I were financially stable enough to take care of a child too.”
“Oh! Well that’s different!” One sister chimed in.
“What’s different?” I asked. As though she was indicating that it was impossible for lesbians to have a child. Sure--the natural way is totally out for us, but we have other options available. (Not that I am going to get prego anytime soon people! Kids are not in my cards...believe me.)
“Oh never mind…” She mumbled, as she realized she had just insulted me due to my lifestyle. Fine. It’s understandable for those who don’t understand.
That’s “one” incident. Let’s get on track with mom. My loving, endearing sweet little mother is the best. We’re buddies, we do a lot of things together and of course…have cocktail hours together. Now I live in an upstairs unit from her, so basically, she knows my whereabouts and what I do at all times. There’s security cameras parked on each fricken tree in my yard. No, I am not kidding you. She can see what I’m doing and where I’m doing it at.
“Where ya goin’?” I hear from a voice from beyond, because she hears my high heels click-clocking away on the hard wood floors. I mean, I could just be walking outside and the question fires out, “Where ya goin’? Where ya goin’? Where ya goin’?” She won’t stop until you answer her. Really.
Now if you have ever seen the show “Everybody Loves Raymond”, you’ll see how my mother fits right in with one of those characters.
I guess being in a relationship with a ‘girl’, my mother has this notion--hell, my whole entire family has this idea that my girlfriend and I do not have sex. They almost seem to think we’re ‘sisters’. It’s kind of funny in a way. My mother used to have this habit of coming up without knocking on the door or anything. The door would fly open, and she caught me and my girlfriend engaged in a sexual act.
There was another time...It was a winter storm outside, and my mother was concerned there was a strange looking car parked outside on our property. It was 7am on a Sunday morning and she walks upstairs---opens the door and comes into the bedroom. She had stepped on a ‘handy-dandy-super-strappy’ the whole time she was talking to us. My girlfriend raised the covers above her head, because she knew what we had left on the floor the night before we passed out from exhaustion. Thank God my mother wasn’t familiar with this contraption and didn’t think twice about it. In fact, she didn’t even look. For all she knows, she was standing on top of one of my platform flip-flops. Lovely.
Not too long ago my mother sort of made this assumption in not so many words that it’s good that I don’t have sex. (???) Who would give her this idea? Just because I don’t talk about it doesn’t mean my sex life is inactive. I was laughing, but I let her go on thinking that way---if that makes her feel better. So I write it out on this blog, because I have to get this off my chest.
My girlfriend and I are pretty much adventurous when it comes to ‘when and where’. We love the same ol’ same ol’ in the sack, but we love going out and making it more of an adventure. We were caught in the bathroom stall while my friend Alyssa and her girlfriend from September Dogs were hanging out with us. Now Alyssa’s girlfriend is an ex cop. I walk out of the bathroom to see her in this ‘police folding arm stance’. I knew I was caught.
“You done?” She says, shaking her head at me.
“Yeh.” I said, smiling and embarrassed she was the one to catch us.
For a lack of better words, morning noon and night if we can. Sex is first on the list of addictions for me. Everyone says, “Well your girlfriend’s so conservative…I can’t see that.” Conservative? You gotta see her in a leather dominatrix outfit. She’s definitely a force to be reckoned with. Out of her business clothes—she’s a wild & crazy Latina woman that has held my attention for twelve whole years. And people---remember---I have ADD, so this means she’s gotta be hot! No one can picture it, because they don’t want to. My girlfriend is everyone’s ‘friend’; she’s part of the family. Well I’m done playing, ‘she’s part of the family’. She’s my little sex maniac before anything. Sometimes we go on a dry spell…usually when she’s at work, but then it’s back to normal again when she comes home.
Here’s my problem. I’m sick of everybody not taking me seriously. My relationships, my work, and everything I do in life has been taken as a joke. I guess it started yesterday when I was working on my book. I get a phone call from mom. She wants me to come down and play with my niece for a while. Now all you writers out there know, once you have a good flow going and then stop---then it’s lost. If you do go back to it, you may get it back, but not like that first flow. I simply told her that I was busy, and I would come down later when I was done.
“Oh. Okay.” In this manipulative tone.
“Ma, I know you don’t take my work seriously, but I just can’t do it right at this moment.”
“Fine!” CLICK!!! She hung up on me.
She was upset that I couldn’t come down at that time. I did not sign up to be a babysitter. She did. I help out when I’m free and I’m able to, but she gets so upset with me God forbid I should be doing something else. Another reason I can’t go down there to help is because my asthma kicks up all the time in that smoke-filled house. I can’t do it. She doesn’t understand the concept that asthma and smoke do not go together well.
My girlfriend can’t do it either. She just got back from the allergist and they gave her a huge supply of Advair and Albuteral inhalers, nose sprays and a bunch of other medication to control her asthma.
My parents think smoking isn’t a big deal. In fact, my mother refuses to have her best friend over because her friend doesn’t smoke and is particular about ‘smoking indoors’. My own sister hardly ever brings her two kids over to see their grandparents because the house is so damn smoky. So literally, my parents are picking smoking over seeing their grandchildren and friends. If the grandchild is here without their parents---they light up right in front of them.
In conclusion, I am happy to report that my girlfriend and I are almost a few months away from getting another place—far far away. I’m almost relieved about this decision, and glad to be out of ‘the loop’. We are excited to be leaving here and going to a place where we’ll be taken more seriously.