Thus far, I have purposely avoided focused talk about my current relationship because I’m afraid he will find out about this blog. I’m 12 years deep in this gig and can’t start over now. How could he find out? I have a huge problem keeping my mouth shut about it. I told both of my friends already.
I’m just saying I don’t think it’s a stretch to assume he might learn about it too. I’m going to play it cool for now, but I’ll refer to him as Hubby as needed. Personally, I hate the term, but use it to blend in.
Two people doesn’t sound like many, but when you only have six people in your entire social circle, that’s 1/3 of the people in your life. I’ve told 1/3 of the people in my life about my super private, anonymous blog in less than 24 hours of making my first post. It’s even worse when those six people include a boyfriend, nephew, and both parents.
As much as I have always known I never want kids, I have known I am not interested in marriage. I had friends who did the pretend weddings, planning them from childhood, but I never saw the appeal.
It seemed like weddings were an event where people spent huge amounts of money on a single night. They pay thousands for people to gather around while they say gushy, romantic garbage to each other. Sure they get gifts, but it’s not close to a fair trade. Except for walking away with a piece of paper and society’s approval to bang, nothing in your life changed.
I understand the point of view of those to whom marriage is important, and I support everyone’s right to their own beliefs. Most importantly, I believe it’s none of my damn business what other people do; same as it’s none of their business what I do. If someone’s beliefs and actions aren’t coming into your space, leave them the fuck alone. Those are just my personal opinions on the subject.
What surprised me, was how many millennials are thinking roughly the same way. More and more are moving in together, sharing their lives, having families, and living the same as people who have their piece of paper and legally changed name. Most of the people I know on Facebook just start writing their partner’s last name because it’s what they feel. Bravo.
The one big difference I see here: Millennials aren’t paying for a huge wedding, they’re having amazing vacations all over the place. If their relationship comes to an end, they don’t spend years battling out a divorce in court. Battles which force each other to sign an agreement that will breed hate and resentment on a higher scale than ever. That doesn’t include what the poor kids go through.
I don’t care which lifestyle people prefer. What I do care about, what pisses me off, are the people who go out of their way to screw with someone else solely because of a lifestyle choice. A lifestyle that harms no one and has no effects on the abuser. They’re simply offended it’s happening. Those people can suck donkey dick.
I hate my town because it is the breeding grounds of those people. Well, A breeding ground. If there’s a ground zero it’s where that crazy group that protests all over gay funerals live. That’s the ultimate level of disgusting.
There were only 2 kids that were ever brave enough to admit to being gay during my school years. Both girls were absolutely incredible, I have no idea how they managed each day. They were both butch so it’s not like they could hide it, but they openly and proudly owned it.
I have to be honest and own my own shame where I deserve it too. I can’t say I grew up completely unbiased, I was an ignorant child who was being taught very specific things about the world. While I had my share of ignorant beliefs before I could experience the world for myself, I get to at least come away from it knowing I never participated in any of the cruel things those girls endured.
Would things have been different if I myself weren’t such an outcast? I mean, probably. I caved to peer pressure instantly back then. The important thing is, I didn’t. Instead I found myself on the receiving end with them.
At some point, my lack of having a boyfriend, my tomboyish appearance, and overall personality, resulted in people thinking I was gay. All those nicknames and wads of spit started flying my way. Yes, literal spit. Boys spit on their index finger and just flicked it my way with crazy accuracy.
Understanding what life is for gay people there, I use to adamantly argue my case. This eventually leads to my making up out of town boyfriends in a Hail Mary effort to finally make it stop, but before I thought of that there were some really bad months ahead.
After a particularly rough experience in Geometry, I just gave up and took it all lying down. We had assigned seats, and I landed front and center to the teacher’s podium. The room was so small I could have reached out and touched it. The person next to me was my worst tormentor, I was so sick of everything, I refused to open my books until the teacher moved one of us.
This kid was spitting on me and whispering, “Lickalotapuss is my favorite dinosaur too.”
The teacher threatened to write me up if I did not do my class work. I tell him again, “This boy is spitting on me, come on already!”
The kid was literally laughing while he denied it. Teacher says again, “Last chance.” I refuse.
I was written up and sent to the office. The office lady made me sit in a chair against the wall until the bell rang.
The write up that was mailed to my parents read, “refused to do class work” nothing else. Do you think I had the balls to tell my parents why? Fuck no. I took the tongue lashing and went to my room to sulk as per my routine.
I had many run-ins with that teacher. He was a preacher. There’s no way to say that without the cheesy rhyme, but that’s how it was. Since it was a private school, many of my teachers were, and they were allowed to preach.
The year before I started taking this guy’s class, two Juniors died. One by car wreck and one by suicide. That year he decided, no more children would pass through his door without having the chance to “receive the word of God.”
I thought it was lame, but it meant no class work for a week so I wasn’t going to complain. Until he started screwing with me. He couldn’t just preach and let me sit in silence. He wanted to engage everyone and make us say stuff about our beliefs; really have a conversation about it. I just couldn’t make myself take that too.
I refused to say what he wanted. I love Spider-Man, but I’m not over here singing his theme song, forcing comics down your throat, am I?
I honestly did try to keep my answers short and simple. I didn’t want him to have anything to build off. I was using one word text replies to indicate you’re finished talking before texting was even a thing. He just wasn’t having it. The entire class was on his side until he made the one remark he never recovered from.
This man made the mistake of telling the class animals didn’t have a soul! There was no doggie or kitty heaven! Those kids forgot I existed and went after that man like a pack of rabid wolves. He never got the room back. The rest of the week, no matter what he tried to say, what Bible passages he tried to quote, someone mentioned why he was wrong about animals and consumed the hour. It was the most beautiful display of karma I had ever seen.
Karma is rarely on my side, but when she is, I take special note. Thank you, my ever-growing audience of imaginary friends. As always, you have been most gracious guests. A good day to you.