Caution…handle with sedatives.
Never reveal more than you are willing to let loose…she had said to me.
I had been planning this Skype date all day.
“Hmm…where on earth did you come from? You are like candy to a sweet tooth!” another forbidden lover remark.
Ah, yesterday!
Currently I am in the attic bathroom looking for more pills. I tend to be a little scatter brained when it comes to popping pills…that is when it comes to following the, as directed label. Other than that, I pop ‘em whenever the need arises. Which is right about now? I just want to sleep for about one month and I think that should cure the sadness and the feeling of being overexposed!
This is what brings me to the above mentioned conversation from the past.
I had managed to get my elderly married girlfriend to Friend me on Facebook. Then I manipulated her into texting. Something she had vowed to never do.
‘Too much ignorance in the world with all this new communication and no one is talking! NO, I will never text.’
Promised her sex in the back of her truck, got her to text the next day.
The Skype dates that occurred while Mother Theresa, Father Floyd and Beckett Couvillion were all busy downstairs ignoring each other; they came with another vow! Kate would only allow the whole sorry state of current juvenile affairs to happen if I offered to Skype nude.
“Shit, yah!”
And, so the story goes. I would fondle myself. She would try to go away. I would fondle myself some more.
Yet, is this where the line had been thrown into the water and the catfish readied for picking. I had actually told her our ‘love story’ would make a good book. She should even contact Diane Sawyer. Ha-Ha.
Everything seemed so easy. The sex, the hidden moments at work, the stolen liaisons on my parent’s couch were all my attempts at playing grown up strip poker with a deck of UNO cards! Kate was the elder I had been looking for. But before I douse myself in sedatives I really need to ponder this idea:
Why on earth did she remain in the house with her wife? Why did she invite me to her home with her spouse and why did I not notice the in-depth questions? No, my father’s name is Michael not Lloyd. No, wait its Floyd. My mother? She does something with speech at UNH. Me, no, I’m sure my mother would ever accept me being a lesbian. I would become disowned. I will be banished from Auburn Street.
How did I put it to her?”
“I would be out on my own. My mother would never forgive me and then what would I do? I don’t know how to live on my own!”
A book about Travels with Ambien, umm, Annie Grace, yeah, I guess I suggested it in a naked, lurid sort of way!
