The earliest memory I have of The Man With The Beard is seeing him in pictures and videos. I'm not sure if my perception of him was shaped by these different forms of media, or by my family. A little of both most likely.
Either way, once a year he would come to visit our house and I could hardly sleep the night before. I'd spend weeks waiting for him, waiting to what he would surprise me with this time! The Man With The Beard never disappointed either, he would bring me exactly what I'd been wanting. Of course, after sending him letters and visiting with his look-a-likes, I'd have been surprised if he didn't bring me at least one thing I wanted.
At my house I always knew The Man With The Beard would come at some point in the middle of the night, and so I would leave my bed periodically throughout the night to check. Each year, the early hours of December 25th definitely saw an increase in bathroom visits in the Roberts' house.
I'd lay in my bed convincing myself I had just heard what had to be hooves on our tin roof. But I knew I couldn't run out just yet, and so I would lie there shaking with excitement, gathering up all the self control my little body could handle.
Eventually of course one of my "bathroom visits" would reveal what I'd been waiting for: a tree surrounded by presents!! No matter if it was barely 12 am, or close to sunrise, no time was too early for me to run around and wake everyone in the house.
The fact that my adult family members allowed this each year is one of my favorite Christmas memories, I know they had to be so sleepy!
I'm sure my excitement was contagious though as I'd barely be able to rip off the wrapping paper from my hands shaking so much. The Woman Who Shaped Me would sit by and be just as excited, giving The Man With The Beard all the credit for all the wonderful gifts I was getting.
After all the presents were opened it was an all-nighter in my house, no way was I going to sleep with all the new stuff I had! Once it was an appropriate time, I'd call my Aunt and cousins to see if The Man With The Beard had stopped by their house yet. Year after year he would come by, munch on some cookies, and leave our stockings bulging and the space under our tree filled.
The magic that The Man With The Beard brought to my life each year is one of my favorite parts of my childhood, and why Christmas is my favorite holiday to this day. Of course, now that I'm older a lot of The Man With The Beard's magic isn't as effective on me, sadly. But it's just one more reason that I can't wait to have kids of my own, so that hopefully one day I can introduce them to the excitement and magic that The Man With The Beard brings around each December.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
The Boy With The Wigs
Normally stealing alcohol at a party would not be something you'd think twice about, and I sure didn't the night I found the lone bottle of bubble gum vodka sitting on the counter. I was at a party where I only kind of knew people, and as I had gotten there late, everyone else was already feeling good whereas I was completely sober and in desperate need for some "social lubricant." Little did I know that this particular bottle of vodka would be the beginning of a long line of bottles I'd be sharing with The Boy With The Wigs.
Not long after we were again introduced at some social event where I had definitely gotten a hold of plenty of alcohol and so felt it appropriate to confess to The Boy With The Wigs how I had stolen some of his liquor. Of course he didn't mind and ended up inviting me to what would be one of my favorite Summer/Fall activites: Bonfire Parties! Something about being drunk out in a field around a fire under the star filled sky really made us all lose our inhibitions. Those few times I was lucky enough to go will definitely be moments that I'll always remember.
But it wasn't until Halloween when The Boy With The Wigs and I, along with The Boy With The Lips, really sealed our friendship bond with a bottle of Rumple between the three of us. We finished off the bottle with a celebratory three-way kiss of course.
Realizing we'd happened upon something special, we spent many of the following months going to one party or another, always getting everyone on our level, and convincing boys to kiss us when we could. The Boy With The Wigs was convinced I had some sort of magical power of persuasion over these boys. I must admit I have no idea why they were all so willing to kiss us just by request. I guess it's true though, "ask and you shall receive."
The Boy With The Wigs became a constant fixture in my life, always coordinating my social life, as well as being there for me for any deeper emotional venting/support that I needed. It was through The Boy With The Wigs that I was introduced to The Boy With My Heart, along with countless other invaluable friends, many who have a post of their own here on my blog. Each party The Boy With The Wigs would show up in a new outfit (accompanied with a wig of course) that went just that little bit more than his last. His outfits were one of the most anticipated events at a lot of parties, and he was never one to disappoint.
But my favorite part of The Boy With The Wigs is when he takes the wig off, his true self. It's then that you can fully appreciate him as his heart blossoms open in front of you and he pours all his love out for all to see, no holding back. I've never witnessed someone go above and beyond to help their friends and family like The Boy With The Wigs does. I believe you'd be hard pressed to find a person who has come into contact with him that can say that he didn't have some sort of positive affect on their life. The Boy With The Wigs is truly an inspiration in the way that he lives his life and in his love for others.
He's really someone you must know, you see. ;)
Not long after we were again introduced at some social event where I had definitely gotten a hold of plenty of alcohol and so felt it appropriate to confess to The Boy With The Wigs how I had stolen some of his liquor. Of course he didn't mind and ended up inviting me to what would be one of my favorite Summer/Fall activites: Bonfire Parties! Something about being drunk out in a field around a fire under the star filled sky really made us all lose our inhibitions. Those few times I was lucky enough to go will definitely be moments that I'll always remember.
But it wasn't until Halloween when The Boy With The Wigs and I, along with The Boy With The Lips, really sealed our friendship bond with a bottle of Rumple between the three of us. We finished off the bottle with a celebratory three-way kiss of course.
Realizing we'd happened upon something special, we spent many of the following months going to one party or another, always getting everyone on our level, and convincing boys to kiss us when we could. The Boy With The Wigs was convinced I had some sort of magical power of persuasion over these boys. I must admit I have no idea why they were all so willing to kiss us just by request. I guess it's true though, "ask and you shall receive."
The Boy With The Wigs became a constant fixture in my life, always coordinating my social life, as well as being there for me for any deeper emotional venting/support that I needed. It was through The Boy With The Wigs that I was introduced to The Boy With My Heart, along with countless other invaluable friends, many who have a post of their own here on my blog. Each party The Boy With The Wigs would show up in a new outfit (accompanied with a wig of course) that went just that little bit more than his last. His outfits were one of the most anticipated events at a lot of parties, and he was never one to disappoint.
But my favorite part of The Boy With The Wigs is when he takes the wig off, his true self. It's then that you can fully appreciate him as his heart blossoms open in front of you and he pours all his love out for all to see, no holding back. I've never witnessed someone go above and beyond to help their friends and family like The Boy With The Wigs does. I believe you'd be hard pressed to find a person who has come into contact with him that can say that he didn't have some sort of positive affect on their life. The Boy With The Wigs is truly an inspiration in the way that he lives his life and in his love for others.
He's really someone you must know, you see. ;)
Thursday, October 20, 2011
The Lady With The Smile
I don't remember the first time I met The Lady With The Smile, it was just like suddenly here was an amazing person in my life. Each time I saw her she had different hair, but always the same beautiful smile and radiating light around her. We would dance at the club, or chug a bottle at a party, and then slowly a genuine friendship formed.
The Lady With The Smile to me is one of those people that make me feel completely comfortable, and comforted, when she is around. She just seems to be able to see through any facade that you try putting up and comes in with a big hug that makes all your problems fade away, if only for a second. Sometimes The Lady With The Smile will just randomly send you a text to say "I love you," and who doesn't like being reminded that someone out there is thinking and caring about you.
I find myself telling The Lady With The Smile personal things that are going on in my life that I normally try and keep bottled up. She always listens with her full attention, and then offers some of the best advice I ever get from anyone. But she doesn't stop there, she always comes back to check and make sure I'm doing okay with whatever was going on. Rarely do you find someone who will be genuinely interested and concerned with your issues.
As people grow older the world has a way of taking more and more from them. It's rare to find people who seem to still be grasping on to that genuine love for others and a love for life. The Lady With The Smile is definitely one of those people though. I'm not implying The Lady With The Smile is old in the least, but I hope that when I reach her age I can dance and live my life as freely as she does. I respect the childlike part of herself that she has held on to and strive to be that same sort of person.
This post is a little more serious than I would have liked as The Lady With The Smile and I are usually just always having fun and enjoying our friends together; laughing, dancing, playing hide-and-seek. But as much fun as we have, it's all the things I've described about her, and how she makes me feel, that means the most. I can say with almost 100% confidence that I'm not the only one she makes feel this wonderful either.
So pink hair, vampire teeth, covered in mud, or dripping in sweat dancing on stage, the smile that The Lady offers to her friends and the world always stays constant and true. Exactly what we need.
The Lady With The Smile to me is one of those people that make me feel completely comfortable, and comforted, when she is around. She just seems to be able to see through any facade that you try putting up and comes in with a big hug that makes all your problems fade away, if only for a second. Sometimes The Lady With The Smile will just randomly send you a text to say "I love you," and who doesn't like being reminded that someone out there is thinking and caring about you.
I find myself telling The Lady With The Smile personal things that are going on in my life that I normally try and keep bottled up. She always listens with her full attention, and then offers some of the best advice I ever get from anyone. But she doesn't stop there, she always comes back to check and make sure I'm doing okay with whatever was going on. Rarely do you find someone who will be genuinely interested and concerned with your issues.
As people grow older the world has a way of taking more and more from them. It's rare to find people who seem to still be grasping on to that genuine love for others and a love for life. The Lady With The Smile is definitely one of those people though. I'm not implying The Lady With The Smile is old in the least, but I hope that when I reach her age I can dance and live my life as freely as she does. I respect the childlike part of herself that she has held on to and strive to be that same sort of person.
This post is a little more serious than I would have liked as The Lady With The Smile and I are usually just always having fun and enjoying our friends together; laughing, dancing, playing hide-and-seek. But as much fun as we have, it's all the things I've described about her, and how she makes me feel, that means the most. I can say with almost 100% confidence that I'm not the only one she makes feel this wonderful either.
So pink hair, vampire teeth, covered in mud, or dripping in sweat dancing on stage, the smile that The Lady offers to her friends and the world always stays constant and true. Exactly what we need.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
The Woman Who Shaped Me
I've been thinking of how to write this post in a way that really portrays how amazing The Woman Who Shaped Me was, but nothing really seemed to do her justice. Those of you who knew her already know the type of person she was, and I hope that there are glimpses of her in me. So instead of explaining her and the 25 years I spent with her, I decided to just run through some memories that stick out in my mind.
That shelf of bells was just too tempting for me to resist, or so I hear, I was still young enough that I couldn't walk yet and don't remember. The Woman Who Shaped Me would tell me not to touch the bells, slap my hand, and then watch as I held her gaze and reached over to knock one from the shelf. As I got older The Woman Who Shaped Me turned my obsession with the bells into an obsession with cleaning. It was my job to take a big bucket of soapy water and clean each individual bell on the shelf. I of course thought this was wonderful and so expanded my cleaning to every little whatnot and figurine in the entire house, and if you knew The Woman Who Shaped Me, you know she had a lot of them. As an adult she let me go through and pick out which bells I wanted from the shelf to take to my own house, and so now they sit in my hallway in my most of the time clean house. Thanks for making me a clean freak!
I remember being in the kitchen more than any other room in the house growing up. The linoleum floor had patterns that made perfect roads to drive my cars on, swerving in between the legs of The Woman Who Shaped Me, sometimes crashing into her feet. I would also find ways to hide my little body in the cabinets so I could surprise The Woman Who Shaped Me when she'd open them. I had a little stool to stand on next to The Woman Who Shaped Me so I could reach the counter and help her sort out the bad beans or flatten the dough for the homemade biscuits. I'd get to hold the mixer when making cakes and tried to learn how to decorate the cakes the way she did. If ever I didn't like what was for dinner then The Woman Who Shaped Me would just make me a grilled cheese, with Miracle Whip of course. Unfortunately as an adult the kitchen is a mystery to me, I can barely make my own grilled cheese. What did stick was my refusal to eat certain foods. Thanks for aiding me in being a picky eater!
When I was born The Woman Who Shaped Me immediately took me as her own. When I had a splinter in my foot from refusing to ever wear shoes, she would use a sewing needle to perform delicate surgical removal of the splinter. I of course screamed and cried like I was going through an amputation. When we would sit in church for what seemed like hours, The Woman Who Shaped Me would let me lay my head over on her shoulder, which still seems to be the most comfortable thing I've ever laid my head on. I'd hold her hand and run my thumb over the tips of her fingernails, which always looked exactly the same to me the entire 25 years. Even as an adult I'd still sit by her on her bed with my head on her shoulder, holding her hand, feeling safe and worry free. Thanks for showing me true comfort!
As long as I can remember The Woman Who Shaped Me had the job of taking care of people. She did this as a profession, with her husband, sisters, daughters, grandkids, nieces, nephews, etc. I can't really remember a time that she ever put herself in front of what others needed. Almost anything I wanted or needed she would work for me to have. Sometimes I couldn't understand how The Woman Who Shaped Me could turn around and be there for someone after they had treated her so badly, but she always did. I never witnessed The Woman Who Shaped Me being cruel to anyone, and as for me I never received any sort of punishments from her. Thank you for showing me what real selflessness and forgiveness looks like!
Excitement over the holidays, family, stories of the past, cleaning, loving, acceptance, patience, so much more. These are the things The Woman Who Shaped Me helped me understand, appreciate, and carry on in my own life. Every day I wish I could continue to learn more from her, but I know now that I just have to take that light she gave me and keep passing it on to everyone I encounter and hope I make her proud. Even though I'm the combined product of everyone I've had in my life, she is definitely The Woman Who Shaped Me.
That shelf of bells was just too tempting for me to resist, or so I hear, I was still young enough that I couldn't walk yet and don't remember. The Woman Who Shaped Me would tell me not to touch the bells, slap my hand, and then watch as I held her gaze and reached over to knock one from the shelf. As I got older The Woman Who Shaped Me turned my obsession with the bells into an obsession with cleaning. It was my job to take a big bucket of soapy water and clean each individual bell on the shelf. I of course thought this was wonderful and so expanded my cleaning to every little whatnot and figurine in the entire house, and if you knew The Woman Who Shaped Me, you know she had a lot of them. As an adult she let me go through and pick out which bells I wanted from the shelf to take to my own house, and so now they sit in my hallway in my most of the time clean house. Thanks for making me a clean freak!
I remember being in the kitchen more than any other room in the house growing up. The linoleum floor had patterns that made perfect roads to drive my cars on, swerving in between the legs of The Woman Who Shaped Me, sometimes crashing into her feet. I would also find ways to hide my little body in the cabinets so I could surprise The Woman Who Shaped Me when she'd open them. I had a little stool to stand on next to The Woman Who Shaped Me so I could reach the counter and help her sort out the bad beans or flatten the dough for the homemade biscuits. I'd get to hold the mixer when making cakes and tried to learn how to decorate the cakes the way she did. If ever I didn't like what was for dinner then The Woman Who Shaped Me would just make me a grilled cheese, with Miracle Whip of course. Unfortunately as an adult the kitchen is a mystery to me, I can barely make my own grilled cheese. What did stick was my refusal to eat certain foods. Thanks for aiding me in being a picky eater!
When I was born The Woman Who Shaped Me immediately took me as her own. When I had a splinter in my foot from refusing to ever wear shoes, she would use a sewing needle to perform delicate surgical removal of the splinter. I of course screamed and cried like I was going through an amputation. When we would sit in church for what seemed like hours, The Woman Who Shaped Me would let me lay my head over on her shoulder, which still seems to be the most comfortable thing I've ever laid my head on. I'd hold her hand and run my thumb over the tips of her fingernails, which always looked exactly the same to me the entire 25 years. Even as an adult I'd still sit by her on her bed with my head on her shoulder, holding her hand, feeling safe and worry free. Thanks for showing me true comfort!
As long as I can remember The Woman Who Shaped Me had the job of taking care of people. She did this as a profession, with her husband, sisters, daughters, grandkids, nieces, nephews, etc. I can't really remember a time that she ever put herself in front of what others needed. Almost anything I wanted or needed she would work for me to have. Sometimes I couldn't understand how The Woman Who Shaped Me could turn around and be there for someone after they had treated her so badly, but she always did. I never witnessed The Woman Who Shaped Me being cruel to anyone, and as for me I never received any sort of punishments from her. Thank you for showing me what real selflessness and forgiveness looks like!
Excitement over the holidays, family, stories of the past, cleaning, loving, acceptance, patience, so much more. These are the things The Woman Who Shaped Me helped me understand, appreciate, and carry on in my own life. Every day I wish I could continue to learn more from her, but I know now that I just have to take that light she gave me and keep passing it on to everyone I encounter and hope I make her proud. Even though I'm the combined product of everyone I've had in my life, she is definitely The Woman Who Shaped Me.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
The Girl With The Laugh
It was one of those days where I felt completely random and hyper, a day where I would do most anything that popped into my head. Thankfully that is when The Girl With The Laugh happened to be walking past the bus I was on. I saw her coming and decided I would talk to this stranger, be silly, and make her laugh. Of course just as other times I'm randomly drawn to people, The With The Laugh and I became friends almost instantaneously.
The Girl With The Laugh was as silly as me and so we decided to play a trick on one of my friends. I told her to go run up to him, pretend she knew him, and give him a hug. Of course she did it, I knew this was a fun friend I wanted. Luckily we talked a bit more and discovered a future friendship was totally possible as we were both attending the same college the next year! For the remainder of high school we would occasionally chat, run into each other at special college days, etc.
Then it was time for college, and The Girl With The Laugh was the only friend I had going in. One by one we expanded our friendship group, like my roommate "Pickle" and The Boy With The Shoes. We would just ride around listening to good music, visit thrift stores, or anything else we could come up with. We had "Tie Day Friday"and were often known to be trying to solve the mystery of Henry, the OBU bell tower inhabitant.
Eventually I started meeting other people and branched out to other groups where I wasn't around The Girl With The Laugh as often. We somewhat grew apart, but remained friends. Years later we are still friends and rekindled our long ago bond in a drunken giggle-fest at our friend's wedding.
The Girl With The Laugh is just one of those friends that you have so much in common with that you can't help but be friends. Eventually I hope that we live in the same city again so we can make tons of new memories like watching episodes of "Teen Mom" or pretend we know complete strangers. Plus I can't help but keep a smile on my face when I hear the very distinguishable sound of joy that comes from The Girl With The Laugh.
The Girl With The Laugh was as silly as me and so we decided to play a trick on one of my friends. I told her to go run up to him, pretend she knew him, and give him a hug. Of course she did it, I knew this was a fun friend I wanted. Luckily we talked a bit more and discovered a future friendship was totally possible as we were both attending the same college the next year! For the remainder of high school we would occasionally chat, run into each other at special college days, etc.
Then it was time for college, and The Girl With The Laugh was the only friend I had going in. One by one we expanded our friendship group, like my roommate "Pickle" and The Boy With The Shoes. We would just ride around listening to good music, visit thrift stores, or anything else we could come up with. We had "Tie Day Friday"and were often known to be trying to solve the mystery of Henry, the OBU bell tower inhabitant.
Eventually I started meeting other people and branched out to other groups where I wasn't around The Girl With The Laugh as often. We somewhat grew apart, but remained friends. Years later we are still friends and rekindled our long ago bond in a drunken giggle-fest at our friend's wedding.
The Girl With The Laugh is just one of those friends that you have so much in common with that you can't help but be friends. Eventually I hope that we live in the same city again so we can make tons of new memories like watching episodes of "Teen Mom" or pretend we know complete strangers. Plus I can't help but keep a smile on my face when I hear the very distinguishable sound of joy that comes from The Girl With The Laugh.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
The Boy With My Heart
The first time I saw him he was wearing a Nintendo shirt with all of my favorite characters on it, thus earning him his first golden coin.
Right away I knew he was going to be someone different with his first words to me being, "Oh my gosh, YOUR EYES! They're beautiful!" Second golden coin. It was like he used some sort of power up that allowed him to see into my life and adjust his interests to link up perfectly with mine. He collected coin after coin the more we figured out.
The Boy was able to press all the right buttons that resulted in a combo attack on the walls I had put up, knocking them down and jumping over the hurdles that would make a short Italian plumber jealous. Our lives just seemed to synchronize effortlessly. The more time we spent together, the more we realized we had really discovered something special, a hidden area on this level of our lives that we had passed over and over before.
As fun and exciting as it all was though, it was also scary. There was no strategy guide released that could tell us which paths to take to avoid any traps, or where to find the secret items that would make us invincible to any enemies along the way. But then the Boy and I realized that sometimes you just have to explore the new worlds you encounter, and this was definitely something new.
Eventually the Boy traded in all the coins he had earned, allowing him to level up and receive my heart as the prize. There were a few boss battles along the way for me as well, such as meeting his family, but of course I got a new high score that earned me my place as number one and my turn to level up.
Even though the Boy With My Heart and I have played through adventures that resemble the one we are on now, this one is definitely an updated version and have yet to see where exactly the story leads. But I feel confident that just like every Mario or Zelda game, the Boy With My Heart and I will play level after level, on all the sequels and consoles, to save our love and avoid a game over.
Right away I knew he was going to be someone different with his first words to me being, "Oh my gosh, YOUR EYES! They're beautiful!" Second golden coin. It was like he used some sort of power up that allowed him to see into my life and adjust his interests to link up perfectly with mine. He collected coin after coin the more we figured out.
The Boy was able to press all the right buttons that resulted in a combo attack on the walls I had put up, knocking them down and jumping over the hurdles that would make a short Italian plumber jealous. Our lives just seemed to synchronize effortlessly. The more time we spent together, the more we realized we had really discovered something special, a hidden area on this level of our lives that we had passed over and over before.
As fun and exciting as it all was though, it was also scary. There was no strategy guide released that could tell us which paths to take to avoid any traps, or where to find the secret items that would make us invincible to any enemies along the way. But then the Boy and I realized that sometimes you just have to explore the new worlds you encounter, and this was definitely something new.
Eventually the Boy traded in all the coins he had earned, allowing him to level up and receive my heart as the prize. There were a few boss battles along the way for me as well, such as meeting his family, but of course I got a new high score that earned me my place as number one and my turn to level up.
Even though the Boy With My Heart and I have played through adventures that resemble the one we are on now, this one is definitely an updated version and have yet to see where exactly the story leads. But I feel confident that just like every Mario or Zelda game, the Boy With My Heart and I will play level after level, on all the sequels and consoles, to save our love and avoid a game over.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
The Boy With The Shoes
The moment I laid eyes on him I knew we were meant to be together, but not in the way you might think. It's somewhat unexplainable, but I just knew that I had to be his friend, and have him be mine.
So of course some friends and I turned our "stalker mode" on to full power, found out his name, called campus directory, and took him to the mall with us. Immediately I knew my "feeling" had been right and that I had stumbled upon another lifelong friend.
But the surprises didn't stop with how comfortable and easy the friendship almost instantly was, because then The Boy With The Shoes took me to meet his family. Again the feeling is almost unexplainable except to say it felt like I was coming home. From the first night of meeting his parents, I had received a whole new family made up entirely with grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and siblings.
Eventually it was The Boy With The Shoes who sat with me as I dealt with my first heartbreak, while simultaneously dealing with my first case of mono. During this time I opened up and came out to him, which in turn led to him to come out to me. Of course this brought us even closer together as friends as stepped out of the closet together, figuring out who we were, and realizing we had each other even if no one else accepted us.
But of course most everyone accepted us, and our house turned into a huge party house for all the repressed Baptist college students. The Boy With The Shoes and I discovered we were amazing hosts together, knowing exactly what to do to feed off the other and get everyone at our parties comfortable and having fun.
Alcohol = Another bonding element of our friendship.
As years went by The Boy With The Shoes proved over and over again just how great of a friend he was, doing anything in his power to help a friend in need. I like to think I'm a nice person, but there were moments I was shocked at how far he would go to help his friends.
We obsessed over the same tv shows and movies, swapped stories about the boys we'd been with, walked around the house wearing heels being completely ridiculous, and held each other when we needed.
I got to go on his family vacations, they'd get me birthday presents, and the year of the blizzard I even got to spend Christmas with them all where they greatly eased the pain of being apart from my own family.
The Boy With The Shoes is the only person I know who knows exactly the right way to approach a subject that I try shutting off from the world and get me to discuss it and feel the emotions I try holding in. He is also the only person I know who knows exactly when to pour me another glass of gin and Diet Dr. Pepper rather than try talking about a subject that I'm not ready to discuss.
With The Boy With The Shoes I learned that a soul mate isn't necessarily someone that you are meant to be romantically involved with. A soul mate is a person that your entire being realizes is someone you want beside you for every moment of your life, sharing all the ups and downs and in-between. From that first moment I have never doubted that The Boy With The Shoes is one of my soul mates, and I'm so lucky to be someone that found him so easily.
So of course some friends and I turned our "stalker mode" on to full power, found out his name, called campus directory, and took him to the mall with us. Immediately I knew my "feeling" had been right and that I had stumbled upon another lifelong friend.
But the surprises didn't stop with how comfortable and easy the friendship almost instantly was, because then The Boy With The Shoes took me to meet his family. Again the feeling is almost unexplainable except to say it felt like I was coming home. From the first night of meeting his parents, I had received a whole new family made up entirely with grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and siblings.
Eventually it was The Boy With The Shoes who sat with me as I dealt with my first heartbreak, while simultaneously dealing with my first case of mono. During this time I opened up and came out to him, which in turn led to him to come out to me. Of course this brought us even closer together as friends as stepped out of the closet together, figuring out who we were, and realizing we had each other even if no one else accepted us.
But of course most everyone accepted us, and our house turned into a huge party house for all the repressed Baptist college students. The Boy With The Shoes and I discovered we were amazing hosts together, knowing exactly what to do to feed off the other and get everyone at our parties comfortable and having fun.
Alcohol = Another bonding element of our friendship.
As years went by The Boy With The Shoes proved over and over again just how great of a friend he was, doing anything in his power to help a friend in need. I like to think I'm a nice person, but there were moments I was shocked at how far he would go to help his friends.
We obsessed over the same tv shows and movies, swapped stories about the boys we'd been with, walked around the house wearing heels being completely ridiculous, and held each other when we needed.
I got to go on his family vacations, they'd get me birthday presents, and the year of the blizzard I even got to spend Christmas with them all where they greatly eased the pain of being apart from my own family.
The Boy With The Shoes is the only person I know who knows exactly the right way to approach a subject that I try shutting off from the world and get me to discuss it and feel the emotions I try holding in. He is also the only person I know who knows exactly when to pour me another glass of gin and Diet Dr. Pepper rather than try talking about a subject that I'm not ready to discuss.
With The Boy With The Shoes I learned that a soul mate isn't necessarily someone that you are meant to be romantically involved with. A soul mate is a person that your entire being realizes is someone you want beside you for every moment of your life, sharing all the ups and downs and in-between. From that first moment I have never doubted that The Boy With The Shoes is one of my soul mates, and I'm so lucky to be someone that found him so easily.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
The Girl On The Bus
I sat on the bus next to the boy that I remember looking like the kid from "Problem Child" on our way to another day in the second grade. I'm unclear on what happened, pretty sure it was just that this kid was annoying and hadn't learned the concept of personal space, but somehow I ended up on the floor of the bus with him on top of me. He wasn't hitting me or anything, so I can only assume it was some sexual gesture, but either way I was not pleased. I couldn't fight him off of me and so yelled out for help when suddenly The Girl On The Bus appeared. She pulled the boy off of me, and then pulled me over to her seat and into her life.
In a small town it wasn't hard for us to know each other and about each other without ever really being friends that spent a lot of time together. It wasn't until high school that The Girl On The Bus and I truly reunited and became best friends, and then there was no stopping us.
Throughout the school year we hung out every day, and during the summer we went to a summer program where we lived on a college campus and took classes. Pretty much The Girl On The Bus and I spent almost an entire three years with each other with no more than a week being apart.
Some people assumed we were a couple, or at least in love and afraid to admit it to each other. They couldn't understand how a boy and girl could be so close with nothing romantic going on.
Before I came out, The Girl On The Bus would defend me to no end when people would be mean, calling me gay and making fun of me. She never once doubted anything I told her and to this day has never repeated a single thing I confided in her.
The Girl On The Bus ended up being my travel buddy, I've still not been on vacations with anyone more than her. What better person to be with than one of your best friends when skiing (or in our case, walking) down the side of a snowy mountain in Colorado for the first time? Or how about walking across the Brooklyn Bridge in NYC. Or maybe standing in freezing weather at three in the morning to make an appearance on the "Today Show."
We were camp counselors together. We returned to that summer college program as RAs together. She held my hand as I got my first tattoo, and then I held hers as she got a matching one.
My family loves her and constantly asks about her, and she'd even go visit them when I wasn't even there. The Girl On The Bus was the first person I called as soon as I heard The Woman Who Shaped Me had died, and she cried over the phone with me. She met me the day of the funeral and walked me inside, supporting me more than she even knew.
There are very few people in my life I would be 100% confident in saying they'd do absolutely anything I asked of them, and The Girl On The Bus is definitely one of them.
In a previous post I said how the Boy With My Blood is a friend that would always be there loving me unconditionally. The same can be said for The Girl On The Bus, and it's that assurance of never having to go through anything alone that makes this sometimes rough life so bearable.
In a small town it wasn't hard for us to know each other and about each other without ever really being friends that spent a lot of time together. It wasn't until high school that The Girl On The Bus and I truly reunited and became best friends, and then there was no stopping us.
Throughout the school year we hung out every day, and during the summer we went to a summer program where we lived on a college campus and took classes. Pretty much The Girl On The Bus and I spent almost an entire three years with each other with no more than a week being apart.
Some people assumed we were a couple, or at least in love and afraid to admit it to each other. They couldn't understand how a boy and girl could be so close with nothing romantic going on.
Before I came out, The Girl On The Bus would defend me to no end when people would be mean, calling me gay and making fun of me. She never once doubted anything I told her and to this day has never repeated a single thing I confided in her.
The Girl On The Bus ended up being my travel buddy, I've still not been on vacations with anyone more than her. What better person to be with than one of your best friends when skiing (or in our case, walking) down the side of a snowy mountain in Colorado for the first time? Or how about walking across the Brooklyn Bridge in NYC. Or maybe standing in freezing weather at three in the morning to make an appearance on the "Today Show."
We were camp counselors together. We returned to that summer college program as RAs together. She held my hand as I got my first tattoo, and then I held hers as she got a matching one.
My family loves her and constantly asks about her, and she'd even go visit them when I wasn't even there. The Girl On The Bus was the first person I called as soon as I heard The Woman Who Shaped Me had died, and she cried over the phone with me. She met me the day of the funeral and walked me inside, supporting me more than she even knew.
There are very few people in my life I would be 100% confident in saying they'd do absolutely anything I asked of them, and The Girl On The Bus is definitely one of them.
In a previous post I said how the Boy With My Blood is a friend that would always be there loving me unconditionally. The same can be said for The Girl On The Bus, and it's that assurance of never having to go through anything alone that makes this sometimes rough life so bearable.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
The Woman Who Hurt Me
The Woman Who Hurt Me gave up on this accident too easily. I mean, she had just turned 16 and so I can't blame her for not wanting a baby yet, but still. Honestly I'm happy she gave me up so easily, I can't imagine what my life would have been like otherwise. But her giving me up isn't how she hurt me the most.
The Woman Who Hurt Me was always in and out of my life, so I can't say she was a completely absent mother. There were the times she would take me to her friends house, like the time I discovered the marijuana plant growing under one of their couches. Or sometimes I'd spend the night at her house where she would lock The Boy With My Blood and I in the bedroom while she and her company would do drugs. But it wasn't her drug use that hurt me the most.
I can remember the exact moment as a child when I realized I could never count on The Woman Who Hurt Me to be a real mother to me. She had promised to take me to see a movie and I was so excited to get to spend time with her, but once again she called and cancelled. I stood in the kitchen crying as The Woman Who Shaped Me tried to make me feel better when I vowed to never believe in The Woman Who Hurt Me again. But not being able to ever believe or trust in her isn't how she hurt me the most.
All the important moments she missed, all the letdowns, all the embarrassment she caused, all of these things hurt me, but none of them was how The Woman Who Hurt Me hurt me the most. What hurt the most was witnessing again and again how The Woman Who Hurt Me hurt The Woman Who Shaped Me and The Boy With My Blood. Unlike me, they always believed in her, always thought that maybe this time she would be different. Each time she would put on a good show, and maybe even put forth a real effort, but in the end they were always left heartbroken and angry, and I was powerless to protect them from that.
Making the decision to never believe in The Woman Who Hurt Me so early on in life helped me not carry around the anger and disappointment that would prevent me from having somewhat of a relationship with her. The Woman Who Hurt Me was the first person in my family I came out to and talked openly with when I started partying. When she has a phone we will text or chat almost everyday, even if it is just to say "I love you." At the funeral for The Woman Who Shaped Me I sat and held the hand of The Woman Who Hurt Me and tried to comfort her. No matter what, I can always say I do love her.
Sometimes I wish The Woman Who Hurt Me could have been a real mother, or that The Man With The Sperm could have been a real father, but what better people to learn from their mistakes and strive to be a better person and parent myself. And with people like my Aunt and The Woman Who Shaped Me raising me, it's almost like a blessing that I ended up with the parents I did.
The Woman Who Hurt Me was always in and out of my life, so I can't say she was a completely absent mother. There were the times she would take me to her friends house, like the time I discovered the marijuana plant growing under one of their couches. Or sometimes I'd spend the night at her house where she would lock The Boy With My Blood and I in the bedroom while she and her company would do drugs. But it wasn't her drug use that hurt me the most.
I can remember the exact moment as a child when I realized I could never count on The Woman Who Hurt Me to be a real mother to me. She had promised to take me to see a movie and I was so excited to get to spend time with her, but once again she called and cancelled. I stood in the kitchen crying as The Woman Who Shaped Me tried to make me feel better when I vowed to never believe in The Woman Who Hurt Me again. But not being able to ever believe or trust in her isn't how she hurt me the most.
All the important moments she missed, all the letdowns, all the embarrassment she caused, all of these things hurt me, but none of them was how The Woman Who Hurt Me hurt me the most. What hurt the most was witnessing again and again how The Woman Who Hurt Me hurt The Woman Who Shaped Me and The Boy With My Blood. Unlike me, they always believed in her, always thought that maybe this time she would be different. Each time she would put on a good show, and maybe even put forth a real effort, but in the end they were always left heartbroken and angry, and I was powerless to protect them from that.
Making the decision to never believe in The Woman Who Hurt Me so early on in life helped me not carry around the anger and disappointment that would prevent me from having somewhat of a relationship with her. The Woman Who Hurt Me was the first person in my family I came out to and talked openly with when I started partying. When she has a phone we will text or chat almost everyday, even if it is just to say "I love you." At the funeral for The Woman Who Shaped Me I sat and held the hand of The Woman Who Hurt Me and tried to comfort her. No matter what, I can always say I do love her.
Sometimes I wish The Woman Who Hurt Me could have been a real mother, or that The Man With The Sperm could have been a real father, but what better people to learn from their mistakes and strive to be a better person and parent myself. And with people like my Aunt and The Woman Who Shaped Me raising me, it's almost like a blessing that I ended up with the parents I did.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The Man With The Sperm
He zipped up his pants and walked away from the girl thinking how easy that had been. Then again, high school hormones can make almost any sexual situation easy to pull off.
A few months went by and he began to notice that the girl seemed to be getting fatter, but he wasn't for sure, she was a big girl to start out with. "No reason to freak yourself out," he thought.
A few more months passed and The Man With The Sperm, along with everyone else in school, knew the girl was pregnant. But she was known for getting around, so how could he be sure it was his? Besides, he'd definitely pulled out in time.
The girl eventually left school and never came back, but in a small town The Man With The Sperm saw her baby in different places. The girl's sister would bring the baby to some school functions, or he'd run into the family out at the grocery store or other places around town. The Man With The Sperm had made up his mind that the baby was definitely not his, and the girl's family didn't seem too intent on finding the father anyhow.
As years went on The Man With The Sperm met a girl he thought he could love and they were married and had children of their own. With each new child he'd think back to the girl from high school and her baby, but always pushed the thought to the back of his mind.
He'd see newspaper stories about the girl's baby as the baby grew from a child to a teenager, winning various awards in school, or being part of some community activity. The Man With The Sperm begin to notice how the kid in the pictures had his nose, or his youngest daughter's smile. His denial of the situation slowly crumbled away.
The Man With The Sperm couldn't come forward now though, how could he explain the kid to his wife and children? How could he approach the kid or the girl from high school now after so many years? They had never sought him out, so maybe they didn't want him to be a part of the kid's life. Plus, what if he was wrong and the kid wasn't his? Just having similar physical traits doesn't make you someone's father.
The Man With The Sperm decided again to let the issue slide and continue on with his life. The kid eventually graduated from high school and left town, taking his appearances in the local newspaper with him. The kid's family eventually moved as well, leaving The Man With The Sperm alone with his questions, his interest, his guilt.
The Man With The Sperm missed out on so much with the decisions he'd made. Never did The Man get to know the joy of being proud of the kid as he did well all through school and got that acceptance letter to college. The Man never got to experience that feeling of hugging the kid, knowing he was part of this human's biological makeup. Maybe he would have felt shame or anger, or maybe even love, when he found out the kid was gay. No birthdays, no Christmas mornings, no eventually getting to be a grandfather to the boy's own children. So much life and love that The Man With The Sperm let his fear or disinterest rob him of.
But The Man With The Sperm keeps on living his life, the kid keeps on living his, both perfectly fine without the other, both not knowing exactly what it is they could be missing out on.
A few months went by and he began to notice that the girl seemed to be getting fatter, but he wasn't for sure, she was a big girl to start out with. "No reason to freak yourself out," he thought.
A few more months passed and The Man With The Sperm, along with everyone else in school, knew the girl was pregnant. But she was known for getting around, so how could he be sure it was his? Besides, he'd definitely pulled out in time.
The girl eventually left school and never came back, but in a small town The Man With The Sperm saw her baby in different places. The girl's sister would bring the baby to some school functions, or he'd run into the family out at the grocery store or other places around town. The Man With The Sperm had made up his mind that the baby was definitely not his, and the girl's family didn't seem too intent on finding the father anyhow.
As years went on The Man With The Sperm met a girl he thought he could love and they were married and had children of their own. With each new child he'd think back to the girl from high school and her baby, but always pushed the thought to the back of his mind.
He'd see newspaper stories about the girl's baby as the baby grew from a child to a teenager, winning various awards in school, or being part of some community activity. The Man With The Sperm begin to notice how the kid in the pictures had his nose, or his youngest daughter's smile. His denial of the situation slowly crumbled away.
The Man With The Sperm couldn't come forward now though, how could he explain the kid to his wife and children? How could he approach the kid or the girl from high school now after so many years? They had never sought him out, so maybe they didn't want him to be a part of the kid's life. Plus, what if he was wrong and the kid wasn't his? Just having similar physical traits doesn't make you someone's father.
The Man With The Sperm decided again to let the issue slide and continue on with his life. The kid eventually graduated from high school and left town, taking his appearances in the local newspaper with him. The kid's family eventually moved as well, leaving The Man With The Sperm alone with his questions, his interest, his guilt.
The Man With The Sperm missed out on so much with the decisions he'd made. Never did The Man get to know the joy of being proud of the kid as he did well all through school and got that acceptance letter to college. The Man never got to experience that feeling of hugging the kid, knowing he was part of this human's biological makeup. Maybe he would have felt shame or anger, or maybe even love, when he found out the kid was gay. No birthdays, no Christmas mornings, no eventually getting to be a grandfather to the boy's own children. So much life and love that The Man With The Sperm let his fear or disinterest rob him of.
But The Man With The Sperm keeps on living his life, the kid keeps on living his, both perfectly fine without the other, both not knowing exactly what it is they could be missing out on.
Monday, May 30, 2011
The Boy With My Blood
My five year old self sat in the waiting room with my family wondering why everyone seemed so anxious. The doctor came out and didn't say anything to any of us, but handed me the most disgusting piece of candy I've ever tasted.
Eventually the doors burst open again and I saw the Boy With My Blood for the first time, but he had all these tubes and stuff sticking out of him. Everyone got even more nervous as the doctor and nurses rushed past us and took him to another room where they eventually got everything under control and he was okay. We both had rough entrances to the world.
After a short stay in the hospital, the Boy With My Blood and I started our lives together. He had the biggest cheeks I'd ever seen, so big he would have a hard time turning his head from side to side. I'd sit for hours and talk to him, fascinated by how small he was. Thinking back now it amazes me how much he responded to me after only being in the world a few days. There is a video where someone just mentions me and he starts smiling and trying to talk.
As he got a little older he got a little more rotten, and it was apparent that the Boy With My Blood and I were going to be quite different. I never got punished in my life, he got multiple spankings a day. I was embarrassed to take my shirt off, we had a hard time keeping any clothes on him at all. I never had more than a scraped knee, he had three broken arms, a blood disease, tubes in his ears, and his tonsils and adenoids removed.
I wasn't as nice as I am now, so the Boy With My Blood sometimes had to deal with my anger outbursts, like when I couldn't get past a specific level on a video game. I had it in my head that everyone else in the room was at fault and so he wouldn't be allowed to speak or make a sound until I'd passed the level.
As time went on it was the Boy With My Blood that became fascinated with me. He'd watch everything I did, learn from me, wanted to be just like me.
We didn't live in the same house together full time until I was in high school because he lived with the Woman Who Hurt Me up until then. In any way that she affected and hurt me, it was ten times worse for him. I always wanted to try and teach him not to expect anything from her, to protect him, but he had a different experience with her than I did and so always hoped he would get the woman back that he used to know.
Thankfully we both had the Woman Who Shaped Me. She always taught us that we should be there for each other because as time went on and friends became strangers, we'd still have each other.
When he found out I was gay he was hurt that I hadn't told him before then. When I found out he was gay I didn't know why he had been scared to tell me. #gayboyproblems
Once he was in high school and our interests started to be more closely related, our age gap didn't seem to be too much of an issue and I realized I'd had my lifelong best friend there beside me for years and never realized it.
Unlike other brothers (I'm assuming) we bonded over "The Simple Life," "Mean Girls," and making sure we weren't talking to the same guys on Grindr. He became my living diary, I divulge every detail of my life to him and he keeps all my secrets. We have millions of inside jokes or family quotes we recite, and we can turn each others' day around with a single text.
We recently had to say goodbye to the Woman Who Shaped Me, and it's been with each others' love and support that we've been able to get through it all.
Having a friend you have no doubt loves you unconditionally, would never judge you, and will never leave you (and vice versa) is the most amazing feeling, and I'm so thankful that the Boy With My Blood is the person God stuck me with.
Eventually the doors burst open again and I saw the Boy With My Blood for the first time, but he had all these tubes and stuff sticking out of him. Everyone got even more nervous as the doctor and nurses rushed past us and took him to another room where they eventually got everything under control and he was okay. We both had rough entrances to the world.
After a short stay in the hospital, the Boy With My Blood and I started our lives together. He had the biggest cheeks I'd ever seen, so big he would have a hard time turning his head from side to side. I'd sit for hours and talk to him, fascinated by how small he was. Thinking back now it amazes me how much he responded to me after only being in the world a few days. There is a video where someone just mentions me and he starts smiling and trying to talk.
As he got a little older he got a little more rotten, and it was apparent that the Boy With My Blood and I were going to be quite different. I never got punished in my life, he got multiple spankings a day. I was embarrassed to take my shirt off, we had a hard time keeping any clothes on him at all. I never had more than a scraped knee, he had three broken arms, a blood disease, tubes in his ears, and his tonsils and adenoids removed.
I wasn't as nice as I am now, so the Boy With My Blood sometimes had to deal with my anger outbursts, like when I couldn't get past a specific level on a video game. I had it in my head that everyone else in the room was at fault and so he wouldn't be allowed to speak or make a sound until I'd passed the level.
As time went on it was the Boy With My Blood that became fascinated with me. He'd watch everything I did, learn from me, wanted to be just like me.
We didn't live in the same house together full time until I was in high school because he lived with the Woman Who Hurt Me up until then. In any way that she affected and hurt me, it was ten times worse for him. I always wanted to try and teach him not to expect anything from her, to protect him, but he had a different experience with her than I did and so always hoped he would get the woman back that he used to know.
Thankfully we both had the Woman Who Shaped Me. She always taught us that we should be there for each other because as time went on and friends became strangers, we'd still have each other.
When he found out I was gay he was hurt that I hadn't told him before then. When I found out he was gay I didn't know why he had been scared to tell me. #gayboyproblems
Once he was in high school and our interests started to be more closely related, our age gap didn't seem to be too much of an issue and I realized I'd had my lifelong best friend there beside me for years and never realized it.
Unlike other brothers (I'm assuming) we bonded over "The Simple Life," "Mean Girls," and making sure we weren't talking to the same guys on Grindr. He became my living diary, I divulge every detail of my life to him and he keeps all my secrets. We have millions of inside jokes or family quotes we recite, and we can turn each others' day around with a single text.
We recently had to say goodbye to the Woman Who Shaped Me, and it's been with each others' love and support that we've been able to get through it all.
Having a friend you have no doubt loves you unconditionally, would never judge you, and will never leave you (and vice versa) is the most amazing feeling, and I'm so thankful that the Boy With My Blood is the person God stuck me with.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
The Boy With The Lips
I looked around my house and wondered how in the hell there were multiple, completely naked gay boys running around. Never mind the full size canoe that now sat in the middle of the dining room, or the fact that the sun was coming up and we were all still in full swing (literally and figuratively). And why in the hell is that naked Boy With The Lips kissing the naked boy that was there for me!?
My inner monologue was all, "WHORE! BITCH! ASSHOLE! Sneaky little bastard, I will hate you for all eternity!!"
As the sunlight returned, so did the sense of morality, thus clothes were put back on and the house was left empty for me to solve the mysteries of what in the hell had happened in the past five hours.
Jump ahead a few weeks to a normal party, aka everyone kept their pants on, and the Boy with the Lips had returned! I was shocked in my overly-dramatic drunk state that anyone could have invited him after what he'd done.
My inner monologue was all, "WHORE! BITCH! ASSHOLE! Sneaky little bastard, I will hate you for all eternity!!"
As the sunlight returned, so did the sense of morality, thus clothes were put back on and the house was left empty for me to solve the mysteries of what in the hell had happened in the past five hours.
Jump ahead a few weeks to a normal party, aka everyone kept their pants on, and the Boy with the Lips had returned! I was shocked in my overly-dramatic drunk state that anyone could have invited him after what he'd done.
Rage! Betrayal! Passive aggressive and fake friendly conversation to see if he had slept with my guy!!
He had. I hated him even more and cried to my friends like someone had just stolen my first born.
Sidenote: Me drunk = Extremely happy, extremely sad, or extremely blacked out.
Somehow the Boy With The Lips made more appearances in my friend group, and through our mutual hatred of the boy who screwed us both over, we became friends! By week three we were locked in a three-way kiss in the backyard at some Halloween party and I was doing body shots off him on someone's kitchen table.
Ah, forgiveness.
I found the Boy With The Lips and I actually had a lot in common and so opened up to him more and showed him I was a gay to be trusted.
After months of conquering the social scene with the Boy With The Wigs, the Boy With The Lips and I had became best friends and were constantly together. To help both of us out financially, he eventually moved in to my place where we shared a room and became a weird hybrid of best friends/brothers/married couple where we'd be like, "I'm mad at you today, so leave me alone, but let's go to Sonic first."
We'd do anything for each other. I'd become furious when someone hurt him, and he held me the day the Woman Who Shaped Me died. He stood beside me and the Boy With My Blood as family and strangers lined up to hug us at the funeral, all of them assuming he was my boyfriend.
The Boy With The Lips taught me to always give someone another chance because you never know if they could end up being one of the closest friends you've ever had, and we now have a bond that I believe will outlast the majority of the relationships I develop in my life.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Explaining My Blog
Blogging has been one of my favorite things to do since high school. At some point it became kind of uncool, or I felt silly about the things I was putting on the Internet, or I became too wrapped up in stalking people and their photos on Facebook.
But now I don't care about any of those things (except maybe Facebook stalking), so here I am again, starting a new blog. This post is going to serve as a sort of introduction (even though I already did my first post) as to what you can expect from me on here, and hopefully will pique your interest enough to return and see what else I have to say. And really you should be interested because this blog is going to be all about you, not me, and who doesn't want to read what someone else thinks about them?
Okay, fine, some of it will be about me, let's be realistic here.
But really it is just going to be about the important people in my life and maybe how I met them, or memories of our times together, or how it is that they affected my life. Some of it will be purely factual, while some of it will be purely exaggerated. I'll let you decide what's what. And no actual names will ever be used either, so no getting offended or a big ego because how do you know it's about you? Conceited.
Alas, I must now go work on writing these magnificent pieces that will entertain you for hours, but I leave you with the titles of some upcoming posts, see if you can guess which one is about you.
But now I don't care about any of those things (except maybe Facebook stalking), so here I am again, starting a new blog. This post is going to serve as a sort of introduction (even though I already did my first post) as to what you can expect from me on here, and hopefully will pique your interest enough to return and see what else I have to say. And really you should be interested because this blog is going to be all about you, not me, and who doesn't want to read what someone else thinks about them?
Okay, fine, some of it will be about me, let's be realistic here.
But really it is just going to be about the important people in my life and maybe how I met them, or memories of our times together, or how it is that they affected my life. Some of it will be purely factual, while some of it will be purely exaggerated. I'll let you decide what's what. And no actual names will ever be used either, so no getting offended or a big ego because how do you know it's about you? Conceited.
Alas, I must now go work on writing these magnificent pieces that will entertain you for hours, but I leave you with the titles of some upcoming posts, see if you can guess which one is about you.
- The Boy With The Shoes
- The Boy With The Lips
- The Man With The Sperm
- The Girl With The Laugh
- The Woman Who Shaped Me
- The Girl On The Bus
- The Boy With My Blood
- The Girls With The Horses
- The Woman Who Hurt Me
- The Boy With The Wigs
- The Girl I Corrupted
- The Boy With My Name
- The Boy From The Club
- The Woman With The Smile
- The Boy With My Heart
- The Girl I Wanted To Be A Boy
See? Doesn't that all sound interesting? If not, I'll at least have fun writing them all.
Oh, and those posts won't necessarily be in that order.
As Aunts Go
I'd sit in awe each morning as she applied her makeup, shocked she could make herself even prettier than she already was. Or maybe it was that I just loved trying to chew on the mascara stick.
I remember getting to walk her to catch the school bus some mornings, or getting to go along to school events and be with her and her friends. Even at such a young age I felt cool.
She'd be there to save me from the fashion disasters of suspenders or a head to toe cowboy outfit. Or she would rush in to turn my school projects into something people envied rather than something I was embarrassed by.
She was the one who was angry when someone told me there was no Santa, and was adamant (and successful) in convincing me that he was real.
I'd come home to find scavenger hunts she had meticulously laid out for me throughout the house, always with a present at the end. She'd sit with me for hours and help me make art pieces out of pasta shells.
She opened up my world outside that of Southeastern Oklahoma, giving me the chance to go visit her in many different states where she would show me museums and amusement parks I didn't even know existed. If I couldn't visit then I'd get letters and pictures to show me where she was and what she was doing. The times she would be coming to visit us then I would post myself at a window for hours, waiting to see her car come rolling down the driveway.
She was there to help me with prom, fix my hair, take the pictures, say the embarrassing comments. She taught me about God, took me to church, got me involved.
For some reason I have always looked more like her than anyone else in my family (which I don't mind), and we've always had a sort of understanding between the two of us about how we MUST have been adopted to end up in the midst of our crazy family.
She's wiped my tears, held me tight, taught me love, and played a major role in shaping me into the man I am today, and I'm pretty sure my brother can say the same.
She is the big sister I always wanted, the mother I needed, and the Aunt everyone deserves to have.
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