I'm Still Davids Doll

My Doll: A Poem By David

2009-12-31T19:40:00.000-08:00

Good morning my love,
It is my wish to give you my all.
This wish like a kiss,
I don't want any other.
Sweet kisses I'll miss
If you weren't my lover.
I say again, my love
It is my wish, because you are my doll.

This concludes I Am David's Doll. If you would like to continue to read the scripted retrospective version of my life, I invite you to visit my new blog, "We're All Friends Here."

Don't speed, don't do speed.

Onwards And Hopefully Very Much Upwards

2009-12-30T19:10:00.000-08:00

“That’s why I’m always so fucking tired in the mornings, I’m not in my fucking body,” Willie said when I suggested to him that maybe the reason I keep waking up in the night thinking he’s there is because he is.

The way he just snaps and jolts in the middle of the night, like he’s come back into himself, and the way that every other person’s breathing slows when they sleep but Willie’s speeds up to an almost hyperactive pace. His body does not rest, it gets more active.

My goal is to hypnotize him and get him to his cabin, and then bring him onward to quit smoking. I wrote a nine page script of how I intend to guide him into quitting, it’s very thorough. I’m determined to help him because that’s why I’m here. I’m here to guide David and I’m here to guide Willie. We all three need each other.

But a thing that made me cry was the thought of not kissing David at the stroke of 12. New Years Eve is our sixth wedding anniversary, and though we generally don’t celebrate it other than with that kiss, I couldn’t really imagine kissing Willie instead.

But I also can’t imagine not kissing Willie immediately afterwards.

David and I still are—we are not what we were but we still are.

In June of 2009 I wondered about the so called “seven year itch” when David and I hit that seven year mark. I’m not sure if we hit an itch, and furthermore I don’t know that Willie is any kind of Marilyn Monroe. His beard isn’t even that itchy. I do know that no matter how many more New Years Eves we go through we’ll never be the same. And that feels surprisingly good for both of us.

When David was talking to his spirit guide, and his guide told him that it’s okay to love one another deeply and even have romantic feelings for each other because love is the only feeling that relates us back to home, something clicked for David—the concept of love. It’s a very big concept. Certain people just make us feel good, make us feel like we’re home. Like that time at the pool that Willie hugged me and there was a super warm spark—chemistry. Or how he knows when I’m coming around the corner. Or how we all knew before David’s guide even said it that we’re all three together forever till death do us part, and even in death we don’t part. The tattoos we they got (still waiting for mine) are proof that we figured this out on our own.

What David said was “The Beatles were right. All you need is love.”

When you get all unconventional with a relationship and you get gays, swingers, or anything that isn’t the set-in-stone-this-is-how-it’s-gonna-be hetero male and female relationship, it gets complicated, feelings are conflicted and at times it’s frustrating. But at the end of the day there’s the clarity that is love, and love feels good which is why we do it. It’s why we have big weddings. That and we like to show off. We’re assholes like that.

No matter what the three of us are now, or what we end up being in the future—because who knows? It might be too damn expensive and too unrealistic to ever file for divorce, I’ve thought of this. I may never change my name to Terwilliger-Lego My Eggos (Willie’s got a funny name too, it’s pretty cool.) But at the end of the day whatever we are or whatever we become, we love each other. Like how family is supposed to but obviously doesn’t 9 times out of 10—or that’s been my experience anyhow.

I grew up in these houses where marriages were not really anything I wanted to model my own after. I was raised by men that I would not want as husbands. Women who I’d rather tear off my own flesh and then roll around in salt than try to emulate as wives. Good people and all, nothing truly against the folks. Love isn’t the right word. But I just saw a lot of shit, went through a lot of it, didn’t particularly care for continuing on with it.

Where I do find happiness now, it’s not something you could purposely choose. It just falls into your lap and you think, “hey, this is fine.”

It comes without ribbons. It comes without tags.

It comes without packages, boxes, or bags.

I thought having David was really the be-all-end-all, but having him and Willie both with all of us loving each other, it makes us collectively happier than scientifically possible.

I realized nearly three months ago that my trusted internet confidants were wrong, and that it was worth the risk to kiss Willie.

And now I have a new person to take pictures of while he’s sleeping.

David, I love you and I will fiercely defend you with everything I have until I’m no longer breathing. We were never meant to be apart, and we never will be.

Willie, I will always sing sappy melodramatic Air Supply songs to you even though I can’t really carry a tune because just telling you that I love you isn’t enough. It must be sung.

And I will never, ever comprehend how lucky I am that you both love me too.

Here’s to 2010, and going onwards and hopefully very much upwards.

The End.

Further On Up The Road

2009-12-29T12:26:00.000-08:00

The holidays can be quite overwhelming, which is why I’ve been absent from here. It seems like this year there’s kind of a bitterly dysfunctional theme to everything and it’s because we, ourselves, are emotionally fucked up people.

Because I’m fucked up and all of my issues are surfacing, it’s causing stress in my birth family, like my sister and other siblings and whoever they married—the people who helped raise me and put me in a new home every few months. Because I can’t hold it together and I can seriously look some of this shit in the eye and say “aha! I know what you are!'” it’s making them nervous. Like maybe all the things I’m doing right now are a result of poor judgment rather than growing up. All the peyote, I mean.

I’ll forever be the person I was when I was 11 to them. Forever. And in that I just have to live with my situation and my environment rather than reflect on it and wonder how it’s all shaped me into the person I’ve become. Because I’m only 11. I can’t possibly know how to reflect and analyze things.

It’s felt wrong, so very wrong and dysfunctional.

There’s David, who doesn’t even know himself anymore, and who can’t seem to really remember who he ever was. God, it’s like I begin to waver and the hero takes a sabbatical as well.

Ah Willie, my sky and my wings—on David’s birthday we sat just the three of us in a restaurant just snacking on appetizers and sipping beer, and it seemed that this wave of peace just fell over all of us. This thing we have, it’s right and it’s what it is supposed to be.

What it was never supposed to be was complicated.

David fell off the wagon so to speak this week. With his 22nd birthday and in an attempt to figure out who he was and do the stupid things he never did when he was growing up, he decided to smoke pot. I still don’t know why he really did it, but he’s a grown ass man. And before I’m blasted for making this known on the interwebs, remember that he has to fess up to everything on applications anyway, so this will be no secret. He did what he did despite my strong suggestion to not do it.

And the first time? It was great. He had a blast. He was hilarious and witty and on top of his game, if not for a little bit disoriented. The kids were asleep, there were other adults around, and you could not have asked for a more perfect environment. So then why did he freak the fuck out the second time?

Oh yes, the classic sweaty “I’m freakin’ out man!”

This is one of those things we had to try to sit there and talk him down from. Convince him that there’s no side effects to this, no lasting effects, he’s still in control of his body and he can handle his shit, but it just wouldn’t work and he had to be sedated. He needed to sleep it off. And then the next day, Christmas at Grammy’s, he took a hit just before plowing into a pile of cheese enchiladas, kolachi, and home made refried beans. He ate well, but he felt “stupid” he said.

And this is the point that a person would think that since he shouldn’t be doing it anyway, perhaps pot just wasn’t his cuppa.

So when he did it a fourth time, and had a milder version of the same kind of freak out, I just kind of thought, you know, what makes David tick?

What it made me realize is we’ve been living this marriage trying to be the same entity, and we’re not. We’re two very, very different people. And we can’t pretend that we’re one and the same.

Even Willie and I, who are soul mates, aren’t exactly the same.

I get this feeling some times in the night that Willie is there with us. Sometimes this leads to me thinking that David is Willie, and I wondered if this was a direct result of my infatuation with him, but after sleeping with Willie right there in our bed many times and noticing the weird things his body does in his slumber, I wonder too about things like astral projection. Do we leave our bodies on occasion? And is it possible that Willie leaves his to be with us at night sometimes?

The same boy who invaded my dream on December 7th, the anniversary of my ex boyfriend’s death, ignoring the plot around him to say “Hey sweet heart, you need to get out of bed today, I know it’s going to be hard but everything is going to be okay.”

And did David miss us while he was looking for himself out there?

Are things moving too fast? Is this the wrong direction? My blog here will be left behind three days from now so that I may move on to a title without such a cap on it as to who I’m with and who I can ultimately write about—but where do we go from here?

There’s a crossroads the three of us are facing. The path Willie has to walk down involves a brain tumor and eventually a lot of family related shit. My path has something to do with some kind of quarter life crisis. David’s forks off into what he’s been looking for—his manhood, as he feels like he’s never really been taught to be a man and it’s sent him into quite a spiral of moderate self destruction.

How many roads must a man walk down?

The good thing is that these roads all run parallel to each other, and we can see each other and watch out for one another. Further on up the road they all come back together and we just continue on our merry ways.

But we must all stop for just a minute and breathe. And pay attention.

David wanted to visit his cabin last night, and it was probably the best decision he could have made. Look inside himself to find the answers, go to his spirit guide for guidance. If you’ve never read any of my entries on hypnosis, a few good places to start would be here and here.

I’m going to share with you the notes I took from the session. Because this was a truly awe inspiring session. Keep in mind that David talks as he is in this state and that I only guide him with questions. Also, “Ross” is David’s spirit guide. They’ve met before on a few occasions.

David says that it’s night time, which is odd because normally he visits his cabin in the day time. There is a fire going, there is a picture of Jessie on the wall, there are new couches. There was a dusty chair the last time he came and there were papers scattered everywhere but this time it is incredibly clean, “very very clean.”

There is food waiting on the table: mashed potatoes with butter, cheese, chives, and sour cream. Country fried steak, corn—David discovers that there is also bacon in the potatoes and shouts “fuck yeah!” The window is drafty so he takes his food to eat it on the couch. He says Ross made the food, but wonders how Ross can cook if there is no stove in the cabin.

There’s a fake oil lamp sitting on a doily that has a candle in it. David discovered a new room in the cabin, a bathroom, and peed in it but the toilet doesn’t work. He discovers that the chain just came undone and he fixed it himself.

I have to stop here and mention that the last time he was at his cabin, Ross had left a book open that showed diagrams of how old toilets worked, like the kind with the pull chain above the sitter, etc. Interesting, is all.

David says he can’t see his reflection in the mirror and is very “tripped out.” He wants to crawl through the mirror but he can’t because it’s solid. He wants to ask Ross about the mirror.

Heading up to the attic where the light came on and where he usually meets with Ross, he discovers that Ross has put in new white couches. Ross is ironing and humming. There is a soft white fuzzy rug and a big sparkly black rock on a glass table. David describes the rock as the same shape of an obtuse triangle and randomly uses the word “hypotenuse.” The couches are in an L formation but they’re facing the corner, like all you’re supposed to do on the couches is stare at the rock.

Ross is dressed like a chef, but he snaps his fingers and his outfit changes to a white suit. David says he knows why Ross is wearing the suit, and it’s because “he’s doing laundry and it’s all he has left to wear.” David keeps mentioning that everything in the room is white except for the rock.

Ross says that the rock is “from home” and wanted to give the rock to David.

Home, for those of you who are unaware, is heaven. It’s where we all go and where we all come from.

The rock was given to Ross by “him.” When I asked who “him” was, I was told simply “him.” I asked if Him is God and David says “that’s not his name but yes.” The purpose of the rock is to remind David of this place, his cabin, and home. David really really likes the rock.

Career- Don’t think about it right now because we’re getting a house and things will be better. There will be some job opportunities, David will have choices. Ross says there’s a fast way and there’s also a long way, and either way there is options.

Marijuana- David’s having smoked it will not affect him when he attempts to get a career. Ross mentions that David needs to come to his cabin more often and that he doesn’t need to smoke pot to feel good and Ross was trying to tell him this by giving him bad trips but David just wouldn’t listen.

Oddly, David’s bad highs were suggested by me as being signs that he shouldn’t be smoking pot.

Marriage- Jessie loves David like Ross loves David. Ross wants to say that he’s there for David any time he needs him, and David needs to go to him more and he will make David feel better. As far as the problems we’re having, it takes time and things will be okay eventually.

Ross points at the rock and tells David that it is a reminder. Remember the rock. It is very important.

Willie- David is “like Ross” to Willie, and David and Willie are kindred. We are all three kindred. Jessie and Willie were pulled back together through David, as in David brought Willie to Jessie. The spiritual side of it is that yes Willie needs David and David needs Willie and they both together need Jessie. We were all supposed to find each other. This is how things work. Sometimes kindred people live far away from each other when they come into this life, but like a magnet we are pulled together and we find each other. Sometimes we get confused as humans. David and Jessie met first, and something was missing until Willie came. That’s why everything is so good and seems to just click together so well.

Willie, Jessie, and David can’t ever be disconnected until we die and go back home and choose another life. We all need to be there for each other. We choose our lives and we have a spirit guide for each of us to watch over us. But spirit guides can’t always help us because humans don’t always listen to that little voice in our heads, what people call a conscience. That’s our guides. But because they’re limited in their ability to guide us, we have guides here in the flesh. David, Jessie, and Willie are all guides for each other. We are supposed to feel deeply for each other. With our human lives we need other humans to be our kindred souls.

Romantic love is okay to feel because love is the only feeling that humans have that relates to home. When you’re home you always feel love. Everything feels like it’s moving fast because we all loved each other before, so it’s almost like picking up where we left off.

“Marlboro Man” (real name omitted for internets)- In regards to his health, everyone is rooting for him to come back home because he’s a very well known and loved person there, but he’s a stubborn bastard and he isn’t dying any time soon.

David begins to play chess with Ross, just one move that Ross wanted his opinion on.

David’s parents- David needs to talk to them about his feelings and let them know that this is not about them right now, it’s about David. Tell them not to worry about David because he has a lot of good people looking out for him. Also, “Marlboro Man” has a very good spirit guide and the advice he gives is sound, so speak to him any time David has questions or problems in regards to his parents or life in general.

His parents have a lot of emotional problems and they should respect David and understand what he’s going to say to them when they talk. It might even make them think about their own problems. Mom is “fucked up” and really depressed about losing her sister.

When I asked Ross if David’s aunt Angie had any messages for anyone, Ross said that she already went to another life. She hated being dead too much to want to stay home.

Mom- there is nothing wrong with her mental health besides depression. David needs to keep his cool when he talks to them and just stand his ground. Nothing they say can bother him. They’ll think about their own problems, and they’re not dying any time soon.

David wants to pet the rock and kiss it. He notices a cool sky light, a whole piece of the roof is missing and David can see the stars. He realizes that this is why the couches are in an L shape, and it’s so you can look at the stars. The rock points to the stars.

Ross says he misses David and to come back. David realizes that he forgot to ask about the mirror but Ross is already asleep.

The basement is dark and scary and David does not want to go in it.

The picture of Jessie on the wall is there because she’s making a kiss face, and David can kiss the picture as he leaves. He says “beam me up Scotty” to ask to come back to his body.

It’s pretty heavy stuff. My next goal is to do the same to Willie.

Fascinating shit.

It's 10 Minutes Till Christmas And...

2009-12-24T23:49:00.000-08:00

We've just discovered that Santa brought Ty the kitchen he wanted--with an extreme amount of assembly required, as in the pieces to it are all still in the sprues.

David? Has to finish a woodburned sign for the Marlboro family.

Willie? Well usually when there's a Willie there's a way but there is no Willie because he's asleep.

Steppy to the rescue, thank god.

"There's a lot of metal screws that are going to be sticking out of it but whatever, at least it's together."

Fine job, lad.

Merry merry to you all.

A Dream David Had

2009-12-23T14:04:00.000-08:00

Me and him are under water, my red hair fanning out with the current and our clothes are floating away from our bodies. We're kissing, we're happy--until I suddenly begin to choke. I'm choking and I need air. I attempt to swim to the surface but my leg is stuck, it's tied to some rope. Without hesitation I pull out a knife and cut the rope, which allows me to swim to the surface.

"Don't leave me!" David says, and I look back at him and motion for him to come with me. But David too is stuck, and when he looks down at the anchor that holds him down, it's his mother. She's standing there with her arms crossed and she's scowling at him. He looked back up at the surface, at me, and at this point I asked if perhaps I was floating up there with Willie but as it turned out I wasn't. Looking back down at his mom, and needing a breath of air too, he looked into her eyes as he severed the rope, and she sunk into the abyss.

David floated up to join me at the surface, where I had been waiting for him.

And there is an island, and there is a palm tree, and it is idyllic in every way you'd imagine an island to be--and on the island is Willie. He's wearing a big straw hat and he's waving at us, waving for us to come to him.

Parts One And Two

2009-12-21T19:58:00.000-08:00

So yeah...almost, anyway.

Leo really wanted to bring me some whiskey, and I don't know much about things like that but he insisted that if I came and picked him up we'd have a good time.

"Fuck Willie, if he doesn't spend the night I will and we'll do shots all night. And fuck supplying minors with alcohol," he says, because he's not quite a minor but at 19 still not old enough to drink, "this minor is supplying YOU!"

Well as you saw from the last post, Willie and Steppy both came along with Leo and once David had a few shots of the rum all four of them were shirtless. Happy, happy birthday to me. Thems all some fine specimens, I must say.

Standing alone in the kitchen with him, Leo pours me a shot of gin. "You just tilt your head back and try not to think about the taste."

"I never did a shot of anything before."

"How can you write about drinking and doing naughty things when you never actually do them JT?"

"I make up for it by the fistful with all of the other bad stuff I do."

He raises an eyebrow to me, and then the shot glass. "We gonna do this or what?"

Down the hatch, and I almost throw it up. Gin? Tastes like nail polish remover. My hot 19 year old cohort tells me I've done well and we go outside to join the smokers. David looks like a filthy bitch with his weekly smoke between his fingers, especially since that night he'd smoked his weekly smoke three times because of all of the alcohol and lack of willpower.

I did a lot of fun things that night, got tickled the shit out of and once or twice got a little disoriented. I was given another shot of something clear, probably that rum they had, and I whipped the shit out of them with the goodies from Steppy's backpack, which included but was not limited to floggers, fuzzy leather handcuffs, and various whips and restraining devices.

Why he brought this stuff over I don't know--all I know is he asked me to put the handcuffs on when nobody else was there and I politely declined.

But beating the shit out of them was cool. David liked it the best and I think he wants more.

At midnight they sang to me shirtless and drunk, and at three everyone slept, or...retired to our sleeping quarters, anyway.

I think Leo knows we're on peyote.

And if he didn't know from the three solid minutes of locked lips between Willie and I under the mistletoe he might know from when I told the tattoo artist the next day that we're a trio.

Trio isn't the right word...perhaps we can call ourselves The Triforce. Yeah. Video game references. Awesome.

The symbol we chose was fish bones. Because the fish is a symbol of unity and bonding, and a dead fish--well that represents that even in death we don't part.

The two men got them on opposite arms, and mine was planned for the center of my upper back, so that way when we hug the tattoos all match up in the right spot. The original idea was to get them all on our arms so we could put them together and go SHAZAAAM! but with the hug it's more tender and meaningful, and just to have something to say we can maybe go "Whooooooaaa BUNDY!"

The problem came when the needle was almost to my back. It wasn't the commitment of the tattoo that got me, it was the pain, and it was Leo going BZZZZ! BZZZZZZZZZZ! in my face. And it was watching Willie nearly cry because his skin just wouldn't take the shading. And him squeezing my hand. That and all I'd eaten that day was a piece of fudge and some ramen. My stomach was flopping and it just wasn't the right time to do it--next Monday on David's birthday would be better.

That and we were kind of thinking about something that Willie's dad said. He said, "So are you guys hooked?" when we mentioned the fish tattoos, and it kind of got us thinking that perhaps instead of a third fish, perhaps it should be a hook. I'm the one that's got them hooked. It's less painful, I guess, but then if I'm going to have a tattoo I'd rather it be the fish bones than a random fish hook. I mean if I'm going to do this it had better be something worth doing.

Perhaps if the pain ends up being gnarley I'll skip the shading.

Part three of our tattoos will go down, it's just that I'm not sure what to do. I'm putting a poll in the sidebar, please guide me in any way that you can, internet.

Happy Birthday To ME

2009-12-20T09:08:00.000-08:00

Steppy, Leo, David and Willie all shirtless and wasted at my so called birthday party.

Inappropriateness ensued.

26 Come Sunday

2009-12-19T10:51:00.000-08:00

25 was harder than I thought it was going to be. I've made so many changes this year it's hard to keep up, and I really feel like I'm hitting some kind of milestone here, like an "all grown up" milestone.

Without question, I made the biggest change just in these past few months.

I'm still trying to figure myself out right now. I thought I knew everything there was to know about me, but I keep surprising myself. But in the big scheme of things, I'm still young, and I don't want to die that way.

I've asked for long socks and hoodies for my birthday this year. No shit. That's really what I want. Willie's brother Leo asked me what I want and I told him that I want the longest most ridiculous socks he can find. David followed instructions well and told me to pick some hoodies at Kohl's. I got three fur lined ones for $8 each, marked down with discounts and coupons from $40 each.

Part of the happiness of picking my own stuff is feeling like I'm robbing the place.

Willie, though not fully accepting this "all I want for my birthday is socks and hoodies" kick I'm on, gave me his 12 year old Volcom hoodie with the broken zipper and holes in the pockets and the cuffs cut off. The hood is way too large and actually covers my face.

I sleep in it.

"This thing has been through hell and back with me," he told me. "And when I lived on the streets, it saved my life by keeping me so warm."

He didn't have another hoodie--and don't tell him but I got him one of those thermal lined Dickies ones for Christmas--so I gave him my lucky green one that David always steals from me. Hoodie swap. It's priceless.

I'm hoping to play in the snow in my new old beat up hoodie. Maybe take the tram again or just drive to Forest Falls. Steppy said something about alcohol, and Leo wanted to snuggle--or perhaps I just wanted to snuggle Leo, I love that damn kid. Loveable grouch. I'm told we're having the famous chicken that Willie and his dad makes, and I've been promised real birthday wrapping paper. No pointsettas or anything Christmasie, and the cake its self will be anything but green and red. Perhaps tonight a slumber party. David will probably sneak off to buy gifts again like he's been doing three nights in a row. Maybe tonight we'll have pizza.

Maybe my cake will have buttercream.

Maybe it will be home made.

Maybe my cake will be brownies--as in...brownies.

Maybe I'll have a beer.

Maybe, just maybe, I'll get a tattoo.

Maybe none of that will even happen.

Willie sits next to me on the couch and crinkles his nose at me. "Hi," he says. "So what do you really want for your birthday?"

"You," I said.

And there's that look again. That look he gives me when he wants to set me on fire.

"Really..."

"It's at the top of my list."

You can wait years for a person to show up in your life. Or like with Steppy, you can wait years for them to come back. You can wait years together trying to fight your way through, but really at the end of the day one thing stays the same. That thing is you.

Okay so I've changed--but have I? Really have I? I keep getting these emails from people saying "oh you used to be so smart and so well put together, now you're doing all of these different things and it has me so worked up over the kind of person you're becoming!"

In other words, when did you get to be such a slut, Jessie?

Truth is I've always been a slut, if this fine time in my life is what's defining me as one for most people now. I was a slut for dating Victor for all those years, and I was a slut to have a baby with someone way younger than me. I'm a slut now because I have a lot of physical and emotional needs that I doubt one single person could ever meet. I'm a pretty impossible lady to be with.

It's not that anything is new, it's just that it's all coming to fruition. And though I'm having a difficult time emotionally with a lot of my so called issues, my heart is smiling, really smiling, for the first time since I don't remember when--probably ever.

And it only seems to shine like that when this angel I know comes around.

But what really makes me happy and pushes me over the edge is knowing that I have this angel in addition to the hero I already have. They compliment each other. David, my rock, and Willie, my sky. And it makes me feel amazing.

Have I really changed this year at all? Or have I finally broken out and started living?

I promised myself I'd knit 25 scarves last year, and I think I stopped at six. And those journals I was wrecking, I'm still not done wrecking them. I'm not done wrecking my own. It was a project I hoped to finish by September but found it impossible. Rest assured, those journals will be wrecked and shipped one day. And the person in those journal pages is the same person in these ones.

So many things have changed from when I first started blogging, not even realizing that these blog things were public, to now where I know not only that they are public but I know the actual public. I know you, I know the internet. I sometimes don’t like it but the internet is still there. And I remember reading recently that the internet is not only a web, but like amber that traps things forever, and then a crazy dinosaur man sucks out its DNA and recreates monsters on islands that will kill us all.

Or I came up with the last part on my own, actually. The amber bit was borrowed.

Everything is borrowed though, isn’t it? We are all products of circumstances and we reflect the sort of people we have known, whether by blood or by extended olive branches, all these people have determined how we’ve grown.

I too have grown. Both in writing and in mindset, as a person and as a member of society. A mother. A friend.

And once upon a time, a wife.

That branch of me will always be there but unfortunately it’s stopped growing, and one day it may be overshadowed by a new branch.

When I created this blog I called it I Am David’s Doll, because that’s all that mattered to me at the time. I’d get comments sometimes about how the title make it sound like he owned me, and one person even said that I should “be my own doll.” I thought that was fucked, for if Toy Story has taught us anything it’s that being nobody’s doll is a very sad, sad thing. And though I’m still his doll, things have changed. I’m sitting here, 26, bored and jobless for years instead of 21 and pregnant and working as a tomato girl, and my heart is all a-palpitating for another. David’s Doll I’ll always be, but because I’ve grown into more than just that, my life—my blog has too.

Starting January 1st of 2010, I will no longer be posting updates to this blog. My life has changed entirely too much for me to keep on with this title.

I love blogging, I really do. Because for some reason looking at painful things in retrospect is highly entertaining. You say I’m some kind of trainwreck but maybe the trainwreck here is YOU internet, who can’t stop rubbernecking. Because of your sick fascination with me I keep on doing it. And I in turn have decided not to sit inside and just wash dishes all day, I’ve decided to introduce myself to the neighbors. Perhaps in some weird way I really am trying to add more characters, more kindling to the fire as it burns to keep it going. Once the flames die down I try something new to add more stories, more adventure.

Because I can’t help it and neither can you.

And so I hope that you will continue to follow my journey and read the scripted retrospective version of my life at We’re All Friends Here—except of course for those of us who aren’t.

Yes, I am starting a new blog. Not starting over, or trying to wipe my slate clean.

It’s all the same, only the names will change.

I had to really think about the title. It was suggested that this place be torn down and renamed Willie’s Doll but that doesn’t have the same ring and it isn’t even true. And if I were to use Willie’s name the only W word I could come up with was Whore and I know he’d get pissed at me if I wrote that, funny as it is, because he really dislikes me talking negative about myself.

I had to think about my life situation. Okay…I’m divorcing my husband because the marriage is a sham but we’re still really good friends. I’m not dating the neighbor boy because that would imply that I’m dating him, but we’re in love with each other as friends.

Wait wait wait…Willie and I? We’re more than friends. We’re less than lovers but we’re more than friends.

And David and I are less than husband and wife but we still hold that piece of paper.

And David and Willie, oh that’s a whole matter to be explored in of its self.

These people, this family, they’re my friends, but they’re my family. And my real family, HA! I don’t know that we could be friends if we weren’t related.

Knowing that my in laws read my blog, and knowing that people I’m not fond of read it as well, I would write a little something in my blog that I know people who liked me and can relate to me could understand, but that the rest of you would take as more ammo to use against me or just laugh at.

And so with my tongue firmly in my cheek, I would occasionally write in my blogs the phrase, “We’re all friends here, except of course for those of us who aren’t.” Because when there’s mixed company there’s mixed reactions, and I don’t know of a better place for there to be so very much mixed company than a public blog. The people who are my friends or who consider themselves to be, and those who are not.

This was my blog, now it’s yours. It’s still my story though, and my story is changing every day. So much in fact that I have to rename it.

Will I post in it as often? Never know. I mean I’m skipping days here and there on this one. I hope to be so busy in my birthday that I won’t get a chance to post. I intend for my new blog to be more adult oriented, which I’ve been trying to make this one for quite some time. Someone mentioned when I started talking about Willie that I never mention my kids anymore. Yeah, I’ve kind of not wanted to. I don’t want my boys judged by my doings. And though I’m not kicking them off the internet, I do intend to mention them far less than I do even now. They’re a part of my story but they’ve got their own. Should I have another baby the internet would be informed. And as I usually post a sort of hodge podge of things I am going to try to stay more focused on writing substance rather than clogging my entries with filler.

This may mean that I could skip a day or two. Doesn’t mean I’ve died. I might just be sleeping at Willie’s or on vacation with my family. Don’t get me wrong, I love Blogger’s scheduled posting option because it saved my ass one weekend when we went camping and because of the dangers involved of letting people know that you’re not at home, but I would also like to leave for a few minutes without people assuming something happened to me or that something will happen to my home because I’m letting the world know that I’m gone by not posting.

Most likely though I will probably make an effort to stay daily or near daily, mostly because my life right now is just that much more interesting.

Look at this. I’ve added a whole person to my relationship, and this isn’t like the time I said “hey guys so this is Steppy,” who you also fought against and then accepted as a permanent fixture, this is “hey guys so this is Willie and because of him I need a new blog.” I’m that serious about him.

And you’re always asking “what if things don’t work out?” well you know what, things don’t work out with a lot of people. Things didn’t work out with my mother, my brother, my other brother, David and his parents, that girl Sara that I used to know, Stater Bros., that Bar Bitch lady who stole all the pills, the bird I had that flew away, and sadly me and David. Things don’t work out all the time, but I have to take my chances. Know that I’ll only take my chances on people I think those chances are worth taking on these days. Willie is very, very special.

David is special too which is why I’m keeping him.

David and I, on the night of our terrible no good very bad wedding, made a pact to always make each other happy.

Willie and I made the same pact to do the same thing recently. We’ve made a pact to wait for each other, and that we will be together, and that we’re going to always make each other happy.

He asked me what I wanted for my birthday, really wanted besides hoodies and socks. I said him. And I mean it.

I'll let you know how those brownies turn out, internet. Go make yourself at home at the new place.

Oh, Tannenbaum

2009-12-18T12:30:00.000-08:00

There’s $100 burning a hole in my pocket, and my instructions are simple.

“Hey darlin’, would you mind doin’ me some shoppin’ today?”

Um yes. The answer is always yes.

They didn’t really give me any idea of what they wanted, other than it had to be a tree and it needed ornaments and lights and everything. This is their first Christmas as a family on their own, and Mom has all their stuff.

Once upon a time I dropped my own hundred bucks or so on setting up my first tree. And now I’m doing it for them.

Willie said that he tried to suggest that he and his dad do it, because that’s what’s right I guess, but Dad seemed to insist on a feminine touch. And I was instructed to go alone, trusted that the cash would make a good exchange for a tree done right.

Honored isn’t the right word, but it’s the first word that comes to mind.

The first thing I grabbed was stockings, one red and one green. Sadly the mom lady was hording all of these things as well, but lucky for Girly she had gotten a cool one with her prize tickets from Shakey’s Pizza, and Willie managed to snag the prototype that I knitted the year I knit all of our stockings, even though I do now intend to knit one personally for him after what happened to his real stocking—the one he had before he grabbed my extra hand made one.

The mom lady literally disowned this guy, and I don’t want to get into detail here but there’s enough people out there who won’t be seeing their mothers this Christmas, and this is pretty sad when you think about it. His mom is a total douche-canoe though, based on what I witnessed when she came over to bring some goodies for the kids to bring to school, and without saying hello to him or anything she just said “here this is yours” and tossed his stocking to him. Not, “Oh hello Willie, I brought you your stocking because this was yours when you were a little boy,” or any kind of sentiment, just “here this is yours” like it’s just another red sock in the world. She said not one word to him the whole hour she was there, not that he really wanted to speak to her either, but he had a very spacey look in his eyes as he clutched the little felt sock with his name all glittery on the cuff.

It was handmade too. By the mom lady.

“I don’t want this,” he finally said to me when she left. “If you want it I’ll let you keep it in a box somewhere, but that really really hurt, what she just did to me. I mean my mom just gave me back my stocking—if that’s not disowning your kid—I—”

“We’ll burn it in my BBQ Willie. We’ll douse the thing in rubbing alcohol and watch the thing explode into a ball of flaming wreckage.”

After all, Santa is our model for God. You be good all year so that at the end you get presents. Santa’s role is of course played out by your parents. If Santa—your mother, can end her role by giving you back the one empty thing that Santa would always fill, what does this tell you about God?

“Thanks JT.”

Knowing Willie’s favorite color is blue and because of my favoritism for Willie I first wonder if big shiny blue bulbs would be cool on the tree. My first tree was purple and white, and I remember my foster parents doing cranberry, pink, and white. The tree I have now has blue lights this year—not that I particularly enjoy blue lights but my white lights stopped working and I had extra blue from outside. All of my bulbs are random, things I’ve made and things I’ve been given, and every year we add a bird to it. Last year it was a quail, and this year it’s a dainty little wooden penguin.

I wanted to make their tree beautiful, but it always starts with a tree its self. Hazaah! The same $20 tree I bought years ago, the six footer that doesn’t take up much floor space. It will do just fine, and I’m sure I won’t need that whole hundred.

But the lights and the sparkle, $25 worth of bulbs of reds and silvers, some glittered some textured but shiny, little green stars and 24 thick candy canes, green ice sickles, and glittery red bows.

The lady tallied it up at $100 before we’d even scanned the damn bulbs. I had to stop her and find out what had pushed me over so fast. Ah, those damn LED lights that ended up being $14 a box—no thank you, I’ll go back and get regular ones. “I have to keep it under a hundred,” I told her. “I’m buying a tree for my neighbor, he has cancer and he couldn’t get out to buy a tree for his kids so he sent me.”

People get really nice to you when you mention cancer like that. Kind of like how people apologize for calling Willie a dirty hippie after he explains that he’s growing his hair out to donate it to Locks of Love.

Regardless, taking the lights off of the bill my total came to $99.87, and I needed $5 of my own to go back and get red and green lights that weren’t the fancy LED kind. Well worth it though. Because the tree turned out to be magnificent. If I think to get a picture I’ll take one, but a pretty tree is really what this family needed. And they were appreciative as hell. Willie thanked me over and over again and they promised me dinner and asked me to stay, and I just kept saying that I didn’t really do anything noble, that Dad had paid for it and I just set them up with the basic elements at Wal Mart, but Willie said it was something more.

“You did something that our family needed you to do. My dad really shouldn’t be driving and you know I can’t, and sure we could have called my cousin but we wanted you to do it because you’re a part of our family now too. My dad loves you. You’re always doing great things for us. And you totally pulled this off! You got us set up with a really nice Christmas tree, the kids are going to love it, I love it, I love you,” he said and kissed the side of my face hard. Then another Marlboro smelling kiss came from the other side, a rough cheek up against mine.

“Thank you darlin’, you done a fine job.”

“No problem Dad,” I said.

“The Christmas Tree fairies won’t set fire to our tree this year,” he adds.

“Um…what?”

“The Christmas Tree fairies, you never heard of ‘em? They come judge your tree, and if they don’t like it they set it on fire.”

“That’s why there’s lots of house fires every year about this time,” Willie adds.

That’s demented. And I love it.

“Gotta go pay my water bill,” he said as he went toward the bathroom.

“My dad just totally kissed you,” he whispered. “By the way, I think he knows we’re on peyote.”

“What? How?”

“I fucked it all up this morning. I was in the other room and he goes, ‘Your girlfriend is here,’ and I totally went to the door looking for you. He was talking about Alisha Keys, who was on TV at the time. I never even said I liked her. But I totally just told on myself that I like you.”

I took a candy cane from the tree and unwrapped it. I just smiled, and ate the best tasting candy cane I’ve ever had in my entire life. I don’t think any candy cane could have tasted as good as the one I ate, the way it was slightly creamy even. The way the stripes licked off onto my taste buds with their coolness. Willie sitting right beside me.

“Molotov Stocking,” I said.

“I concur.”

“Tell me right now Willie, point blank—do you believe that Jesus Christ died for your sins?”

Willie smiled and looked away. He looked down between his knees. “There’s a lot of bad in the world,” he said. “And yet people would equate the way you and David and I all love each other with some of that badness. They’ve grouped too many things together—granted I respect God and I follow the 10 commandments—too many good things are seen as bad, when they’re not hurting a single damn soul. JT, dying for sin is like praying for war. And you know, even babies die…you know that. When I was born, four other babies were born on the base that very same day. They all died except for me. Dying is just something that everyone does eventually and for anyone to have died for such a big cause like our sins? For the billions and billions of people who have populated the world since Jesus died, for him to have been sacrificed for all of the sins of all of those people? They’d of had to done more to him. They would have had to crush him to dust, and then crush that dust into dust, and that dust would be set on fire and the ashes would be dust. There’d be nothing left to rise. It’s bullshit. It’s a great idea and all but maybe God just didn’t think there’d ever be this many people and this much bad. Which is why he shouldn’t have ever equated anything involving love to being bad, it’s just…wrong.”

I admire Willie. I wish I had his ways.

I tickled his beard and got up to get some lemonade.

Just Breathe

2009-12-17T21:58:00.000-08:00

There was sickness, pain, and then there was blood.

And I’d heard of these things happening to other people but it’s never happened to me, so I wasn’t really sure. I did panic a little. I told four people at first and dreaded having to tell the fifth.

Tell him what had happened to something that was his.

Take a deep breath and hold it in. This story is going to last just about as long as you can hold your breath, and maybe a little bit longer.

Each one of us is so emotionally frail right now with our own twisted problems, and adding this to the mix was, as one person put it, bad timing. I know that I couldn’t handle another piece of bad news right now, and damnit it’s almost my birthday! It’s almost David’s birthday! It’s almost Christmas!

But here’s to the 2009 December mishap.

Happens every time.

Every year.

It was the first sign of life from that piece of my body in years. Here I’d thought maybe I was broken, but if this was happening—for whatever reason it was happening—it meant that something down there worked enough to get the pieces to fall together right.

Those four people had the idea that I should approach this as scientifically as possible, given the fifth person’s potential reaction. These four people are four people who I trust, two of which are women from the internet who I’ve talked to for years, and the other two are men that I’d trust my life with and have in some situations.

So in being scientific you say words like “cells” and “zygote” and “matter” and “tissue.”

You don’t ever, ever call it a baby.

It was never a baby. It might never have grown into a real human, which is why these things happen. Like those cookies you followed the recipe exactly for, only they turned out like burnt globs of dough that explode with flour when you bite into them.

Half baked.

Or not even a percentage of the way done.

It’s hard to guess when you didn’t even know, but the math works out to about what experiencing something like this should be like for that length of time.

So it’s pretty dreadful when you’re waiting for him to walk through the door and use words like “science experiment” and “early” and “expelled” and you’ve got no real way to gage a reaction beforehand.

The first time I ever told someone I was pregnant we were in a car at my high school, our high school, and I gave him two choices: either leave and never bother me, and I would never bother him, or stay and man the fuck up and take responsibility for what was half his.

And the second time I came out of the bathroom and said “I’ve pissed hot on a pregnancy stick,” and he was cooking dinner at the time. Romantic isn’t the right word.

This was different, and should it be sad? I’ve always wanted for this next time to be happy, I’ve wanted to put my foot down and say words like “happy” and “gift” and “wonderful.” Except that because of this situation I try to specifically avoid using words like “baby.”

The moment of truth came in the bedroom with the door shut. Someone outside the door knew the circumstances of which the person within the room was about to learn. And I was plain scared shitless. There was talk that maybe he would implode, and then I would implode on my own. I can’t lose the source of my strength, not in times like these. No matter how much it hurts, the thing that brings me back to reality is that I am not alone. Here or anywhere.

At the end of the day some people have God.

When you’re too close to a person and your eyes can’t focus on them, they get blurry and even light colored eyes are dark splotches in your already clouded vision.

And you try to keep this as emotionally disconnected as possible.

“I may have been pregnant for a time during my last cycle.”

It sounds so clinical. Not the way that things should sound. And the bite of the words just kills me because I wish it could be said better. But with all of the broken eggshells we’re all walking on, trying not to trip those who are word sensitive up with the wrong thing to say, there just isn’t a cuddly, warm Hallmark card to say, “Hey I bled out your embryo, and for that I apologize.”

“But what do you have to be sorry for?” he asked when I ended my speech with an apology. “It’s not like you’ve done something wrong, these things just happen. Why would you be scared to tell me? Do you think I’d run away…I mean really, do you think I’d ever leave you?”

You know how people get scared sometimes and you wonder what they’re capable of.

“This isn’t your fault, it isn’t anyone’s fault. This is just bad timing is all, and it isn’t meant to be right now. It will happen later, you’ll see. It’s supposed to happen. There’s a red haired little girl and she’s waiting, she’s waiting. Okay? We’ll wait too.”

You worry about being able to trust a person but really you just need to trust in yourself. Other people will come through.

I could have not said anything about it but it needed to be said, to be validated and made real. Real as the faint line on the piss stick. It needed to be said between us—the only us who could have possibly biologically created what ended. It’s physically impossible to not have known. And it isn’t an incident or a mishap or even a miscarriage. It was a baby, a very tiny one who was just barely becoming anything remotely human, and he and I know it existed, if only for a short while. It existed between us.

And we’ll move on from it.

We have to.

We replace the hole that this left in our hearts with each other, and we move on from it. Because we have to.

Breathe out for me now, because I still have not.

When You're Talking In Your Sleep

2009-12-15T14:15:00.000-08:00

When you develop new friends you tend to develop new memes, and one of ours is “peyote.” The peyote meme.

It stemmed from an episode of Reno 911! where the cops took peyote for some reason I can’t recall right now, and they ended up being so messed up that they just sat down in someone’s driveway, and one says to the other “I just feel like…if people drive by and see a couple of cops sitting down in someone’s driveway they’re going to know we’re on peyote.”

Peyote is of course the drug that the Peyote Indian tribe takes to go see God.

See GOD. As in GOD.

Somehow this has developed into something that we say every day, though we aren’t doing peyote. Peyote for David, Willie and I has become our word for general mischief. Could be drugs, could be sex, could be vandalism.

Examples include:

--Thanksgiving when we went for a walk at Grammy’s house and ended up at a canyon and we found all of this abandoned and broken granite countertop, and David, Willie, Girly, Girly’s Girly Cousin, and one of their adult cousins started throwing the granite chunks into the canyon to see how far they could throw them.

“I just feel like…if people drive by and see a bunch of people throwing shit into the canyon they’re going to know we’re on peyote.”

--Willie and I at one point walked to the store to buy dinner, which was chili dogs. We ended up throwing a lot of chips and popcorn and candy into the cart as well. Like $75 worth of hot dogs and junk food, enough for eight which means we buy enough to feed 18.

“I just feel like…if people see us pushing a cart full of candy and munchies and hot dogs people are going to know we’re on peyote.”

--Willie wears three pairs of pants whenever he comes over here at night because he has no body fat and he gets cold very easily and very fast. Like to the point that when the blood rushes to his stomach to digest his food, it causes him to simultaneously shiver and sweat while he eats. Weird mother fucker. Anyway, he took off a layer of clothes when a tickle fight happened, including pants and one of his shirts, which he forgot to put back on when he left, and we didn’t discover that until it was too late. And…

“I just feel like…if Willie gets home and he’s wearing less pants than when he came here, his dad’s going to know that we’re all over here doing peyote.”

See also: “I just feel like…if we’re out here spraying air freshener at 2:00 in the morning the children are going to know that we’re doing peyote.”

See also: “I just feel like…if you keep calling me angel face in front of my dad he’s going to know we’re on peyote.”

See also: “I just feel like…if the cops show up and we’re playing football in the middle of the street at 1:00 in the morning they’re going to know we’re on peyote.”

As you can see, peyote is just another term for mischief.

And, what I tried to say yesterday but lost interest in talking about half way through, is that my family has figured out that I’m on peyote. David’s family figured it out because they read my blog, and my family figured it out through that little Facebook faux pas.

Really at the end of the day I don’t care, except for two things that were stated by the person in my family who left the comment. One is that I’m acting like my mother and that I’m doing something that’s harming my children, and the other is that David is “putting up” with me.

The first thing just makes me roll my eyes. I’m not doing drugs, I’m not living in the laundry room drinking vodka all day and shooting a 9mm into the trees at people wearing leaf suits and hiding from silent invisible helicopters that spy on me through the sky light. I’m not neglecting my children so that I can be with this man, I’m not spending food money on things to impress him, and I’m certainly not pistol whipping their father in front of them.

What I have done is introduced them to someone who loves them and who they love back, someone they can trust and be safe with. Believe me, if either of my kids were to ever say that Willie hurt them or that anything he did put them in danger he’d be gone as of yesterday. Nobody’s taking away their childhood or forcing them to choose between parents and switching off alternating weekends. They have a very special, well, uncle I guess you could say—really though he’s their Willie, and he loves them and he provides a very comforting male presence that is not often in our home.

The fact is that David isn’t here much, and though Willie isn’t trying to nor is he replacing the father role, boys need boys. I can’t properly explain why it’s not cool to hit other guys in the nuts. And David is a little brother, the youngest brother, so he doesn’t know how to play fight and rough house the way Willie does. Willie is extremely dominant in a positive way, David is very much a walk-awayer. Kids need all sides. I’m the nurturer. I’m also the no-bullshitter. I’m the bad cop.

My point is that I don’t see how it harms the children in any way to give them more family and more people to love them.

Nobody’s being replaced, it’s simply a love story where nobody ever says goodbye.

And this other notion that David is putting up with me, and that somehow he’s totally not in on it and I’m just doing whatever the fuck I want—I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to convince anyone otherwise. And I give up trying. I know that if my family were to really get to know Willie and see how he interacts with the kids and I and David they would love him as much as we do. And if they don’t, well such is life. I can’t wait around for them to start liking me or the things I do. I’m getting too old for this crap and I’m tired of being the world’s biggest little sister.

I love David, husband, friend, or father. And I love Willie for whatever of those things he may end up being one day and for whatever he is now. The two of them are best friends, and if they weren’t then this could never rightfully work out. We all need each other. David is off trying to find himself right now, something he didn’t get to do when he was younger because he had to keep himself anchored to the ground.

The three of us certainly have our heads on the ground and our feet in the clouds right now. It’s fun.

I hope some day you’ll join us.

People seem to be asking, especially the person from the Facebook incident, whether I love one of them more than the other, who I’m currently boning and what not. As I won’t go into the specifics of boning or anything of that nature, I will relay to you the messages I’ve been relaying from my subconscious in my sleep to David.

As you may or may not recall I’m really into hypnosis. I’ve dabbled in it simply because I like to be a ~~jack~~ jill of all trades. It’s given me answers to questions because through listening to what people say when their subconscious mind takes over, I’ve learned things first hand that no priest or philosopher could have told me.

It’s a truth serum, if you will.

I’ve been known to say and do some interesting things while I’m sleeping according to David. Like when I explained about gapping spark plugs in order to fix my sister’s lawnmower, or the time I talked about rebuilding the engine of a 1967 Chevy. Like, in detail. I’m some kind of idiot savant but I can’t seem to recall any of that stuff when I’m awake, which leaves me as just some kind of idiot.

But for the past two months I’ve been waking up saying—apparently what’s on my mind and heart. I do recall the first few times it happened when I, the Victorian era romance novel heroine I am, woke up saying “Willie, oh Willie! How I love you!”

David just woke up and laughed at me. Because I’m ridiculous.

And there were a few times that I shook David awake and said “Willie, go home! Your dad’s going to know we’re on peyote!”

Because, you know, I just feel like…if Willie fell asleep at my house and came home at 4:00 in the morning his dad would know we’re on peyote.

So it’s painstakingly obvious that I’ve got a boner for Willie, it’s been that way for a while. But do I still have a boner for David?

According to my sleep talk the answer is yes.

Three nights ago I made out with him in my sleep. He woke up and I was kissing him all over his face—not calling him Willie but David—and I told him I loved him and I wanted him to feel better. The night before last I shook him awake to tell him “Honey I’m always going to be by your side, and don’t forget to preheat the oven.”

Last night, and I don’t remember any of this, but I told him that I wanted him. And also that the Hag House was going to explode. I’m not sure what I was talking about but I know that I meant the first part.

I think that at the end of the day if David were feeling abused or used or if he was any kind of upset about the change in our lifestyle, David would share those feelings. Fortunately he only shares the feelings Willie and I have for each other, and Willie shares the feelings I have for David. Is it weird to put the two of them in the same box considering David has proven his worth and Willie is only just beginning to? Well, I don’t know. But we’re here, we’re queer, we’re walking down the aisle.

I just feel like…if all three of us walked down the aisle people might think we’re on peyote. Which is why I’m going to start over with the whole being married thing with my soul mate this time.

I really don’t care what it comes down to. I just like doing peyote.

Bitches And Hags

2009-12-14T19:08:00.000-08:00

It seems like with my impending 26th birthday I’m feeling quite lackluster and having less and less to say when it comes to defending my lifestyle.

I’m really starting to not give a crap.

I’m not passionate about convincing anyone that it’s right or wrong, I’m not in a long letter writing mood, and I’m certainly not about to get defensive.

Yes we’ve invited a third person into our marriage. Yes we’re comfortable with that. We are enlightened.

It works for us.

The other day I mentioned some rolling in the hay on Twitter and Facebook, particularly that Willie was watching our boy so that David and I could shop and roll, roll, roll in the hay. See, I had just watched Young Frankenstein the day before so it was my movie quote of the now.

What I didn’t know until I turned my computer on two days later, because I have a life outside the interwebs now, is that someone had left a very detailed response to this little update, asking things about whether I’m having sex with one or both of them, mentioning how I love Willie and how I’m getting a divorce.

Kay.

Did nobody notice that I stopped Twittering links to my blog about the same time that I decided to come out about what’s going on with Willie and my marriage?

The reason is—no matter how “public” my blog is—my Facebook is where I keep track of my family. I try not to involve my family in too many things because they’re not the most emotionally supportive bunch and I don’t really feel like dealing with a lot of bullshit right now.

Seems now that it’s been decided for me, but whatevs. I roll with it.

And no, I hadn’t gotten the chance to explain anything to my family about divorce or Willie or anything of that nature. But after seeing this little debate on the Facebook they all flocked over here. That’s when the fun began. And that’s when I just couldn’t be bothered to care any longer.

Truthfully I don’t wish to even discuss private matters like these with my family. If they read it here it’s fine, I really don’t give a fuck. This is all useless anyway, I mean I’ve used this platform to try to let people get to know me for years and years now, explaining my position and trying to put out there that I’m —you know what, never mind, it’s not worth reiterating.

I’m tired of repeating myself.

It is what it is.

We’re all friends here—except of course for those of us who aren’t.

And that is what it is.

Finally got to see some god damned houses. Not a lot is available right now, mostly because of all of these short sales. If you aren’t sure what a short sale is, Google it. In the real estate world they’re synonymous with the word “suck” and they’re not really something we can get involved in right now. We’re hoping to get some regular old “I’m selling my house because I want to and not because I have to” situations and right now in our price range for what we want there are only two of those. One of which is drive by only, make an offer first and we’ll think about opening the front door but we’ll need to see three forms of ID and bring scotch—lot’s and lots of scotch.

The other is a house on a little horse shoe street that I affectionately call the Hag House and it’s because of the old hag that lives inside. It’s basically your chain smoking grandmother’s house with ugly brown linoleum in the bedrooms and orange and green afghans everywhere. The wall of crucifixes wasn’t immediately what halted us from putting in our offer, crucifixes can always be thrown into that charming little fireplace or something. It was mostly the fact that it needs a new roof and rumor has it about $7,000 worth of repairs. Cool covered patio thing but the fixtures and the cracked walls and all the breaking and all the gluing back, you know, I mean it’s a nice floor plan and all but it’s listed for $110,000, and we heard that the Hag is “being mean” about taking people’s offers. The realtor suggested that if we were to bid, and perhaps we should wait to do so just in case January brings a lot of bank owned houses, we should go for $125,000 and use $10,000 for repairs.

Except that defeats the purpose because at $125,000 we’re paying $780 a month out the door with insurance and tax and that’s even more than we’re paying for rent right now. The whole point in doing this was to score a $500-$600 payment.

So if the old hag comes down in price we’ll be just fine and maybe we’ll make an offer. If not, we’re just going to hold onto our monies and wait for something to come along that suits us better.

The good news is that I finally allowed Steppy to come over after three weeks of putting him off. And I wasn’t the best company to him until I cheered up when Willie came—Willie who is rather distraught right now over things I can’t really go into here.

“Willie do you know what I have for you?” I said and reached into my pocket and clutched the little things I tucked inside and presented them to the downhearted fellow before me. “It’s Jew Gold,” I said and gave him two of those chocolate covered Hanukkah coins. “Alle ist gut zu ihrem Geburtstag”

“W-what is that?”

“It’s German for all is good on your birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday…and why did you give me Jew Gold and then say something in German?”

“To make you smile.”

It worked, and passionate tickling ensued.

These happy moments really do sort of mask what’s really going on, I admit that and know it well. I’ve invented a good many of these moment just for that. Willie is going through some shit, I’m obviously going through some shit, and David is making some pretty big steps toward becoming a real credentialed adult. Even Steppy’s got some shit, and I felt really bad that after three hours of listening to mine I really couldn’t help him much with his. I listened though, and I know that it involves a bitch and a letter.

We’re sort of like that Breakfast Club movie.

Joy To You And Me

2009-12-12T18:51:00.000-08:00

It was actually exhaustion that claimed me on—when was that, Thursday? Friday that I didn’t post? Both I suppose. I’ve been having off and on days, lots of off to be honest. Everything is so Christmasie right now and I just can’t say that I feel it. I did, however, do a nice chunk of shopping that I decided not to totally stress about, and also finally colored my hair since the first time since summer.

That night I was so overkilled with what I used to find joy in, all the lights and glitter and cinnamon scented pine cones that I literally just laid across Willie’s lap while he drank a beer and pet my hair. David was drinking his beer and pining about this girl, and I was mostly just waiting for Sunday. But we had to get Friday out of the way first and Friday was just rainy and Wal Mart’s automotive department kidnapped my car for days and while at Willie’s house a family friend came over and there was a giant tickle fight.

Okay, so it wasn’t really a fight, it was Dad and Willie tickling farts out of me. It was quite a commotion. But the friend, a guy they’ve known for years said I was a cool person and he wished that his wife was like me because I’m lots of fun and I giggle. It’s always nice to hear when people who don’t know you’re depressed are cool enough to say you’re cool and such a fun and happy person.

Meanwhile I’m fielding Steppy’s concerning text messages like “how ya doin” and “do you want me to sing to you like the bird from Little Mermaid?”

And I say meh and no thank you.

I want to be fun again. I want to have fun people around but I just feel too tired for it all.

Naturally though we stayed the night with them on Friday, an arrangement that I love and David hates. Did I mention that Willie has been having nightmares? Violent ones?

Eyes wide open with a horrified expression he pulverized my chest but simultaneously kept his kung fu grip on my legs with his. “Willie, it’s me!” I said and kissed his nose, and he immediately stopped the pounding and hugged me tight around the neck instead. It’s like he’s a gigantic baby or a really mentally disabled person when he sleeps. “Go back to sleep, angel,” I said and he went back to snoring.

By far, Willie is the most interesting person I have ever met. It’s almost like life is a romantic comedy movie with him around.

We woke up and it was Saturday, not yet Sunday, and we were kind of bummed. We ate the leftover pasta from the other night that I had cooked in mass quantity and watched the rain. The kids were—kids, I suppose, but not behaving totally well. The Yucaipa Christmas parade was today but seeing all the rain I decided it wasn’t even worth it to go. Last year I missed it because of the funeral. It’s a tradition I really usually like but god, not this year. I’m not feeling it, I’m not feeling much of anything but down really. But I trudge on because there’s always Sunday.

We ended up leaving Willie’s house around 4:30 instead of staying for dinner because Dad had one of his, I don’t know what to call it, unpleasant mood strikes I guess, and we bailed pretty quickly. I hate doing that, I like it better when he’s trying to tickle farts out of me and generally hanging out with me and letting me be there. But the kids’ mother showed up and set him off.

This is why it’s been made an unanimous decision by him, us, Willie, everyone, that taking him in won’t be necessary. Our plan for the five bedroom and renting out the extra rooms to them because it’s more economical for everyone and we all get along so well? Not really going to pan out. There are times when it gets really super uncomfortable for everyone and we all walk on eggshells. It’s medication, it’s disease, it’s alcohol, and it’s really going to be a bad idea to try to live with. It already kind of is, which is why Dad gave his blessing to Willie to move in with us when we get a house…just him. Not them. And if for whatever reason things don’t work out, he can always, always come back.

Things keep falling into place. I mean, I wanted to offer the man an option for saving a little money and maybe having things easier, but as that might be nice nice and what family does, it could have been—and probably would have been a great big disaster. I mean we think of the future, the future where there isn’t a Dad, and there’s something to be said for planning ahead.

I don’t know, maybe the naysayers are right when they think I’m getting myself into these impossibly hard situations and setting myself up for failure. It’s the thought that counts though. And I really thought it out. Which is why it’s no longer an option.

What is an option is taking in Willie. Willie is 22, has been homeless, has couch surfed, and has come to a point in his life where he’d like to learn how to be something other than a house wife. He’s completely able to work and completely able to go to school except that he has no umph or motivation to do it when he’s really only responsible for laundry and dishes and all of his meals are paid for. I know the feeling, believe me. Granted it’s not just the fort holder downer position, especially because there’s kids. Helping his dad as he’s done all this time, he’s done a lot. But it’s never enough.

Lots of words get thrown around. A lot of projecting. A lot of things that maybe can’t be totally helped but still suck for anyone who has to deal with them anyway.

Above all, everyone must grow up sometime and learn from their own mistakes, trials, and tribulations.

On Sunday we are officially going house hunting with a real estate agent. We’re looking at three and four bedroom houses here in Beaumont. We’re not going to drag our feet and keep this going on for too much longer—we need to move and pay less per month to live somewhere. I’m joyful for this. I want to explore the life we’re making for ourselves, this living all together thing. Having Willie under my roof, or knowing he’ll be there at some point because that’s where he calls home.

As of right now, Willie and I have made a pact to wait for each other. David and I have made a promise to keep each other. Willie and David have promised to love me together.

The realtor promised to show us the four bedroom just a block from the apartment complex first.

If this is fate—if this is how things are choosing to work themselves out I’m just, well, tickled pink I suppose. Can’t be yet because it hasn’t happened, but really when you think about it, and the fact that if the old man was there too our relationship with Willie would stay just the same if not be more stressed because we would never be able to have anywhere to go and just be us and be comfortable.

Trust me, he has plenty of reasons to move out right now, good job he’s doing and all.

I just don’t think it’s as unheard of for a 22 year old to want to move on and live life how he’s going to live it.

I think everyone needs to just calm the fuck down and live life how we’re going to live it.

Wait for those stupid pieces to fall into their rightful places.

Okay so Willie is a bit punchy in his dreams but see, this could work out still. He’d have his own room and so would David, and maybe all three of us would go to one room to sleep some nights and maybe some nights one person would want to go to bed early or just be alone. It doesn’t really matter who sleeps where and when, but having the freedom and the choice, this gives me something to look forward to.

I’m not sitting here planning flowers and dresses and speeches to tell off my in laws when our divorce is final. What I can think about though is Sunday where we’ll find a big house where we all could live.

As long as something in this mess starts taking shape, I’ll be wonderful. It just might take a while.

Issues

2009-12-09T10:33:00.000-08:00

David and I are both just bad company right now. And not in a cool rebel roguish sort of way.

I’m working through my issues, I mean I’ve been accepting things but things are far from over. I still have my shiny happy fits of rage and lately I’ve been getting uncontrollably melancholy during the day while I think about things. At night I get anxious whether I’m alone or not. If there’s chemically something wrong with me I really couldn’t do shit about it anyway because where the hell would I get the medication to fix it anyway?

The pieces don’t fit together so good from all the breaking and all the gluing back.

I’m not on suicide watch but I had made this comment that is making Willie sort of keep me in his peripheral vision at all times, which was just that I don’t want to be suicidal, but that in of its self is a loaded statement.

I said it because I don’t want to be suicidal, but even merely mentioning the S word makes people jump and perhaps that is good. I just meant it like…you know, I don’t want to be suicidal. I don’t think anyone ever wants to be suicidal, except perhaps the people who commit suicide, but then perhaps they didn’t want to be in that state of mind either. I don’t know, I’ve never been there.

But I can see how it creeps him out because it’s like when my Marine friend said he didn’t want to end up like our friend from school Salvie…and it’s like…Salvie shot himself…what do you mean you don’t want to end up like him?

The thing is that I’ve been pushing Steppy away, not because I dislike him or I’d rather spend time with Willie or anything like that. So pay attention Steppy, because this is my explanation. I’m seriously, seriously not well right now and not even the cookies you keep offering me will help. You texting me every day to make sure I’m living is about all the contact I can handle right now, because if you come here it won’t be cool beans. I’m a wreck, I’m a mess, and I’d rather have fun times with you because you’re a fun person. This is not a time for the two of us to mingle because I’ll only ruin things, but knowing that you’re willing to be here anyway and soak up my misery means a lot. I just don’t want to do that to you. There’d be too much awkward silence and I don’t want that, because I don’t have a cat like you so you can’t just break the silence by suddenly saying “Look! A cat!”

Sorry buddy.

Now then, David’s issue is this girl, this Cutie Pie, who his dad just happened to mention that he didn’t like.

Oh and why? Was there any implication that he’s screwing her at all? No. They’re just assholes who hate random people because they think love is about fear and control.

Take your God and shove it.

No, this Cutie Pie is a friend of his, she’s in high school so that right there says David’s not screwing her. I’ve lost a lot of trust for him but I do believe that David wouldn’t do something illegal and fuck up his future over jail bait. If he won’t do it over pot he won’t do it over jailbait. Me on the other hand—wait, never mind, you heard that one before. Okay so this Cutie Pie is a 17 year old pizza girl who has a lot of problems at home but she wants to join the Air Force and be a police officer one day. Now that is something David can relate to!

He took her under his wing because at 17 she’s doing a lot of stupid things like drinking, partying, smoking pot, and she’s recently decided she likes to smoke cigarettes.

I still don’t see why people even start that shit anymore. It seems like the most asinine thing in the world to me.

David wanted to do a good deed and sort of do what I did for him, and what I did for Victor too. You know, set them on the right path, smack that stupid cigarette out of their mouth and give them a book to read. Tell them they’re better than the rest of the bunch and make them into something. He believed that she was succumbing to peer pressure and that looking at her grade point average she’s actually a very smart girl, it’s just easy to get pulled into what everyone else is doing when home life is not so good. David wanted to take her arm and show her something new.

The problem is it’s just not working. Cutie Pie seems bent on destroying herself besides her great mentor. For one example, the rave incident. The girl was invited to go to a rave, which is one of those gigantic parties they have in warehouses where people slip you things and rape you, and David told her not to go because someone would slip her something and rape her.

She went.

Someone slipped her something.

Don’t think she was raped, but she sure has a hard time remembering driving home. It’s a scary thought.

David is investing his time in this girl and it’s turning out to be bad for him, because not only is she not listening to him but he feels like she’s not a lost cause yet even though she’s really making some fucked up decisions. He really cares about her. He wants to see her go somewhere in life. But now she’s pulling away for what she claims according to friends as an attempted kiss. David said he never tried to kiss her, and I mean that’s his story and he’s sticking to it, I don’t really know what happened. What I do know is that he’s very upset about it because he thinks she’s just trying to pull away from him because he’s laying on the helpfulness and she’s not ready to take the help.

That’s fine, but don’t make up a story.

I don’t necessarily trust David right now, but I know him enough to hear what he’s saying about this and read his body language and piece together why he’s so upset over this. I don’t think he did anything—I don’t think anyway. You know, Willie and I have all the time in the world to spend together and get to know each other and help each other with our problems. We’re housewives, we make coffee and cut sandwiches and talk about the juxtaposition of standing in a cemetery over an ex boyfriend’s grave in the rain with such a giant happy cheery rainbow umbrella. We fold laundry and discuss abandonment issues. We wait for the kids at the bus stop and try to let go of our vices.

I was wrong when I said he’s down from a pack a day to four a day, he’s down from two packs a day to four a day. And his new years resolution is to quit smoking weed and to go to college. He’s doing the best he can about the cigarettes. Aside from my mental grief I’m trying to be generally more active and social and Willie is helping me with this.

Willie is also going to need a lot of help when his dad dies, a lot. And he needs a little help preparing for the day it happens. It was suggested to me that perhaps his phobia of driving is caused by the idea of his father dying which is why he keeps telling me next week, next week, next week.

David is very depressed right now. Him and I are trying to fix some things internally on our side of the triangle, and I’m also trying to give encouragement to strengthen the Willie-David side of things. Guy time and what not. Bromance.

They don’t fuck and quit asking that.

David really wanted to help this girl, and I personally just don’t think she was mature enough to handle it. We should all be so lucky to have a mentor, but I feel that the girl is taking advantage of it and furthermore kind of spitting at it. Every chance she gets she does the opposite of what he says, and it’s got to be because she thinks he wants her so she can treat him like every other guy.

David is NOT every other guy.

What David is is caring and very concerned. Emotional, yes, but they’re the kind of emotions that don’t send you flying and screaming at people. Willie gives me that hand to hold, and gives David the pep talk. David wanted to do something nice for someone as a friend, and there’s not a lot you can do for someone who doesn’t want help. Or maybe she just doesn’t want the help from him.

Maybe she likes him and therefore wants to keep the serious business side of David—the “get your shit done and clean up your act for your own good” side—separated from his cute boy side—the “I poke your tummy and make you laugh and buy you foods sometimes” side.

I think it’s rather disrespectful of her and kind of ditzy on her part. Yes she knows about Willie and I and how our marriage is dissolving and how David and I are going to stay friends, and perhaps she thought that she would be a part of this. Perhaps at some point we thought she would too—like way later on down the line, and maybe if she cleaned herself up. I don’t want to dump the girl’s whole reputation here but some of her doings have been unsavory. And it’s fair to say that Willie’s have been too. I think the difference is, and I’m going to put this how Willie put this, is that you can’t compare him to a little girl. He’s not smoking weed because his friends are, because his friends aren’t. David and I ARE his friends. He smokes it with his dad but he’s choosing to do it recreationally and not because he’s trying to fit in with anyone. He’s not going out to parties and getting fucked up and shit faced and posting topless pictures of himself on Facebook—though that would be hot because Willie does have a seriously hot muscular little body but that’s besides the point.

The time I accidentally ate the pot cookies, what did I do? I called David and David came home to take the children because even though I probably could have handled my shit it was probably more correct to put them in his care, we had it very very much under control, and when there is drinking going on it’s never in front of the children and someone (me) always stays sober. We plan things out and act responsible when we’re acting irresponsible.

We’re not out here making sex videos and crystal meth, not that Cutie Pie is either, but even if someone suggested those things it would seriously be a bad idea to all of us and we’d never do it.

If it were suggested to Cutie Pie, if enough people were doing it…

My point is that David is very frustrated right now. David has this need to help her. I think he became obsessed with the idea, and that is why this is not going well. What I can tell you with certainty is that he sees what Willie and I have and I think he does kind of want his own thing like that, but I’m trying to get him to focus more on repairing the triangle rather than try to expand it at this point.

Did he like her? Oh sure, thought she could have been someone he could see himself liking later on—by the way she’s 18 in December so had it turned to that kind of relationship it wouldn’t have been anything illegal. Just barely legal, which sounds hot as hell doesn’t it? But I think that the idea of having the little side flame would have been cool to him, even though that wasn’t his intent in helping her or anything. He wanted to help her because she needed the help.

Regardless, I myself am kind of touchy right now as I’m working my shit out, and I can’t fully give good reasoning to David, and perhaps it’s my pensive and negative mood that caused me to tell her that she’s a fucking skank and that she was never good enough for him anyway.

I love my David. I wouldn’t let him hook up with just any little nobody. He needs someone who cares about him, who will treat him with respect and dignity.

What he needs is a big, fat dose of Willie.

Think I needs me one too.

Sorry Steppy.

Sorry God.

A Day That Will Live In Infamy

2009-12-08T09:33:00.000-08:00

Infamy. Infamous.

I’ve gone through a lot of different moods in the past year, let alone the past week. What I do know is that what I’ve learned in this year has brought me to tears, and I’m not sure when I’m finally going to surface.

A year ago Victor, my ex boyfriend who I dated for three years, died as a result of complications of a virus that attacked his heart. His death affected me in a surprising way, and now I’ve nearly made it to 26 and I’m not entirely sure what to do about that—but maybe first I’ll explain where I was on Saturday and why I didn’t bother to post Sunday and why I was too tired to write this post on Monday.

Saturday Victor’s step mom contacted me and invited me to witness the big plugging in of the Christmas lights she had donned her house in. It was important that I be there because they had secretly had a sign made honoring Victor, and his dad didn’t know about it. It was to be this big reveal, this dedication or memorial and I had to be there. David would be at work at the time so I asked Dad if I could use his Jeep—and his son.

Okay, I’m sure it seems quite awkward that I’d show up to this with my—neighbor? Boyfriend? Best friend? That scraggly red head. Either way, I needed him there with me. And he willingly held my hand all the way there. “It’s awkward, but I’ll go.” He knows when he’s needed and he knew this was important.

I told him that this family is so cool and loves me so much that I can just walk right in to their house, and I did. I told him that they’re the only family besides his to ever take me in, and they did. They offered us food and there were a lot of people there, like friends of the step mom and one of Victor’s brothers, some scattered teenagers, etc. And all welcomed me and him, with Willie following my lead. Feeding off of my reactions to these people, saying yes he was hungry too because I said it first and hey there’s a big turkey dinner being served up. How can we say no?

At the table Bob, a family friend and the guy who made the sign, complimented Willie’s beard. He gets a lot of mixed reviews on it and a lot of people in his family tug on it and go “what the hell is this?” But Bob complimented it, and that’s when Willie politely mentioned that he’s also growing his hair out to donate it for cancer patients.

Oddly, the table fell silent in a warm sort of hush when Willie explained that his father has cancer and he wants to do something constructive and contribute to the world somehow.

Everyone had this sudden respect for Willie, and I think he’s become a friend to them for life as well.

Not more than a moment after everyone started talking again Arlene says “I know this Willie Boy, he has threesomes with them. She posts it online.”

Willie put his head down and shoveled food quickly; a silent “you handle this one, darling dear.”

“I never said threesome,” I said somewhat defensively.

“You guys have sleepovers!”

“Yeah, with the little kids too,” I add.

By now everyone’s laughing at the hilarity of the situation and Willie feels somewhat initiated—awkwardly initiated, as if things weren’t awkward enough. But he bowed his head to pray with everyone over the turkey and mashed potatoes, where Victor was honored and remembered and the lord was thanked for the short time that we had him. It was healing for me to see that these people are holding it together.

And then the big reveal came, a sign with his name and a set of praying hands with the words “son, brother, and friend” below it.

But not husband.

I was told that she hasn’t even called them.

His dad, Big Vic was very quiet but he sort of stood in front of the sign as Arlene danced around and bragged about her millions of lights. The spot light lit up the sign while the tiny bulbs lit up the trees, making the leaves glow orange against the dark sky. Grand archways of lights over the yard and plastic caroler statues that looked like blow up dolls with their mouths too open into too perfect of O’s. It was quite a display as we all stood out in the street, Willie squeezing my hand gently.

When it was time to go everyone hugged Willie, the sweetheart, and invited him back. And I know they meant it because any friend of mine is a friend of theirs. Even David who technically stole their son’s place. And as we left Willie said he understood why I get upset about my inlaws, because looking at how well these people treat me, David’s parents just look and act like maniacs.

“They’re clinically insane not to have accepted you JT, and Victor’s family proves that you’re not defective or any of those other awful things you say about yourself. My family loves you and these people obviously love you. Please don’t ever say that word ‘defective’ again.”

And I’ve tried not to.

Sunday was a day of rest. Willie and the two kids spent the night at my house Saturday night while my two kids were at my sister’s, and Willie slept like a baby in my arms all night—though as David tells it he was very noisy and teeth grindy and all of these things I must have slept through. Except when he shook me awake to tell me “Hey, I can use my mouth like a cigarette filer, and this one time at Michelle’s…fn asfkasfbsfm knfsndff kkfmmmmfm fdmf mdf.”

Except for that.

And after we got the kids in the morning, the whole family (all 8 of us) went to Bogart Park just to throw the football around. I had my big camera on me because that’s how I do things and I hadn’t turned the thing on since my last photo shoot simply because I haven’t been in the mood. Obviously I’ve been a little down lately and more attracted to burying my face in leather jackets than looking for things on the ground to macro. But it was nice to walk around and take some snap shots of the kids climbing trees, Willie’s face with all of its contortions that try to ruin my shots. We walked around with the Marlboro Man through the brush and he’d tell the kids not to step in too far away places because they were quick sand. He also warned of alligators in the lake. He stood on the water’s edge and taught his son to skip stones, even though there were no good rocks. It didn’t matter, what mattered is the time spent. The love. The being outdoors and creating a memory.

And me trying not to think about the tomorrow that was about to come.

They bought us dinner, this Russo’s place with excellent pizza, and I had the fettuccini alfredo with chicken and a cup of the best Italian wedding soup I’ve ever had. Food makes me feel better, and I know that’s just what you’d expect a fat girl to say but it’s true just the same. Food can warm the soul. And when I see how happy and excited Willie gets over it, either making it or eating it or creaming his pants over some new flavor he’s discovered, I feel the love.

I want to love so bad, and perhaps that’s what pushed me into this whole thing.

But discovering how to love food again after I was rather indifferent to it for so long, so much that I even stopped really cooking it, this makes me excited for something, finally.

And then Monday happened.

Monday came with frigid rain, but also with a dream. It was just a regular dream until Willie barged into it. Here I was thinking that maybe I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed that day, the anniversary of Victor’s death, the anniversary of when my so called quarter life crisis sort of began, and Willie pushes through whatever was going on in the dream and he said “Hey, listen. You need to get out of bed today, okay? Things are going to be okay, don’t worry about it. Okay?”

I woke up. I got up. I went outside. I took Ty to the bus. I kissed David. I kissed Willie. I checked my email and then went straight to Willie’s house for the day. It was warm there because they keep their heat cranked up to like 82. Dad was dressed and Willie was still wearing his cowboy hat, his long hair flowing out from under the brim. God he’s pretty. His big eyes, that obvious hair, sweet Jesus. He’s a good lookin’ fellah whether anyone agrees with me or not. I love everything about him. And I felt warm. On a day that was so cold I felt warm.

And David felt so comfortable that he fell asleep on their couch.

Dad was in and out of a headache and Willie and I had dinner planned by 11:00 in the morning—biscuits and gravy with vegetarian meat from a can called Fried Chick’n, or as they say it “Fry-Chick.” It’s surprisingly good though, like a mix between spam and meatloaf made entirely from vegetable protein and potato flakes—not unlike cat food in a way. But as David slept I brought up the day’s conundrum. The cemetery. Victor’s grave. What on earth I was going to do.

You see Willie said he’d go with me because he knows I need a lot of emotional support right now and that’s something I can’t get from David, who over breakfast a few days before admitted that he still has no fucking idea why I’m so upset over Victor.

Because it goes deeper than six feet under. It goes deeper than bruises and deeper than time. I myself can’t really put it into words but Willie at least acknowledges my right to be upset. Acknowledgement is sometimes all I really need. Someone who will believe me.

So Willie was going to go with me but Dad said absolutely not because David needs to do that for me, he’s my husband. The other night for the sign reveal was different because David couldn’t be there and either way I needed an escort. Or that’s how Dad sees it anyways. But he doesn’t understand that David doesn’t understand, and whether or not it’s David’s job to escort me to the cemetery to see the grave of the boyfriend I ran fearfully away from into David’s arms, the guy who was explained as violent and cruel at times…

Even I don’t get this.

But I wanted Willie’s hand to hold. He makes me feel better in a way that David never could. This guy is the missing piece to the puzzle.

David slept on the couch under a blanket while Willie and I cleaned the kitchen and I asked, “Willie, what do I do?”

“Well sweetheart, I think for one that you shouldn’t go. I don’t think you’re emotionally ready for it to be honest. And look, look at the sky today. It’s been pouring rain for hours. Whenever there’s a funeral or cemetery scene in the movies there’s always rain and there’s always people crying. The gloom of the day is going to overwhelm you whether you go with me or you go with David or you go by yourself. That’s my honest opinion.”

“It’s—just what I needed to hear.”

And he nodded. “You know what we’ll do instead is we’ll tell his parent’s you’re sorry you couldn’t come, because I know you said you’d be there, but what we’ll do instead is we’ll go cook for them. You, me, and David. We’ll show these people that they’re loved and we’re thinking about them, make them some awesome food, show them that they’re appreciated and that you care about them and you care about Victor.”

“And you go because you’re head chef, right?”

“Exactly.”

“It sounds…like a great idea Willie. Thank you.”

“No problem. See, I told you things will just work themselves out. Things will fall into place.”

Not more than 10 minutes later, things fell into place.

David woke up to a phone call, a phone call from the loan lady man. His loan has been approved, $125,000 at 5% interest and she’s faxed the papers over to her realtor.

He’s buying a house. For real now.

Of all things to have happened on December 7th, I couldn’t believe that was what ended up going down.

It is a day that will live in infamy.

He Saved Me

2009-12-08T00:06:00.000-08:00

If looks could kill they probably will.

But I'm alive and well because of him.

December 7th was the best day.

Too tired to write more, will report back in a few hours.

I love you Willie, my sky.

Defective

2009-12-05T08:58:00.000-08:00

On occasion I go to a very dark place and I have a very, very hard time getting out of it.

I’ve been trying for years to be the strong woman, the good mother, the perfect wife, and ignoring everything that’s just below the surface. Like how when you look into a lake and you can see yourself reflected in the water along with all of the trees and birds outside of it, but if you actually look into the water you see all the seaweed and shadows and maybe even little fishes.

My biggest issue right now, and Willie is slowly trying to back me out of it with his magic but it’s not entirely worked yet, is that I think about Victor a lot in the sense that underneath everything, underneath that trench coat and all the bad things he did he was actually a very decent human being, and that there must have been something that made him lash out and do the things he did that were bad. Like there was something wrong with him.

I wonder that maybe there’s a plan for everyone and everything’s already mapped out from the moment you’re created, and if things don’t work out right you can just, you know, go back. To wherever we are before we’re here.

And I wonder if Victor’s body or brain was defective somehow, and he couldn’t live his life the way it should have been as that guy I first met who was weird but so very kind and sweet. Perhaps temper wasn’t something he could control, perhaps some of his thoughts were so far out of his very own mind that they weren’t really his anymore.

And I wonder if he died so young because he turned out to be defective and he wasn’t doing things quite as they were planned out.

This sweet person became a monster.

And my next thought is that I tried so very very hard to fit in all my life, my own mother abandoned me, my dad refused to fight his cancer, the people who were going to adopt me decided they didn’t like me enough to do so, my siblings fought over who was going to keep me for the next few months and believe me they weren’t fighting for me, and as a result I never had a stable address. And then I married into a family that hates me for I don’t even know what reason, they’ve never actually told me. I suppose it doesn’t matter why.

But I tried to earn their approval for years. I became borderline obsessed with it, perhaps because I thought that this was my last chance to ever truly fit in. I wanted them to see that I take such good care of David and that I love him so very much, and at times I thought they believed me.

But through all my hard work nothing ever came of it.

And I began to wonder if they’re rejecting me because I’m…defective.

And what if I’m supposed to fit in but I can’t because I have something wrong with me?

What if one day I marry Willie and they all decide that I was good enough to be accepted as his best friend, but as his wife--

And I wonder if I’m supposed to—“Don’t say it,” Willie finishes for me. “I know what you’re going to say and don’t you dare say it.”

He won’t let me say it but…I think you know where I’m going with that thought. So yeah. It puts me in a very dark place.

David tells me how much he loves me and that I’m the mother of his children and that will never be taken away from him, and that the tattoo of my name on his finger will always remain because I’m always a part of him no matter what some paper or some dysfunctional group of people think. He says they didn’t win anything because he hates what they’ve done to me and by proxy him.

We left this marriage open because we both knew we were too young when we started and there was a lot of self exploration that wasn’t done. We left it open just in case, and then Willie came along. Probably saved us both. I’m still in the process of being rescued though, because I still end up in that dark place sometimes, and I do still believe that I’m defective.

I don’t know how December 7th is going to go for me. I’ve been carrying the little Dead Boyfriend Poppet around in my bra for a few days now, almost a week or maybe more. I worry that getting out of bed that day might make my legs too weak to move and that my eyes won’t want to focus on anything. I don’t want to live a life like that, I hate the dark places I get myself into.

As a precaution I’ve decided to give myself an excuse to get out of bed at some point and I’ve contacted the Jasso’s who are going to be visiting the cemetery that day, and I’m going to go along with them.

I can visit my dad and not cry, and when Willie went with me last week to see him I was more fine than usual because he seemed happy to be there…he always seems happy, I envy him for it. I know that Willie has dark things in him too, he even says there is but that he’s not ready to let them out. I’m there for when he does.

Visiting Victor’s grave with the only other family besides the Marlboro’s to take me in despite of my defectiveness—I just hope that the dark stuff doesn’t come winding back.

Interviewed By The Cat In The Hat

2009-12-04T08:35:00.000-08:00

I have some questions I been thinking about to ask you and you obviously don't have to asnswer them ,but no harm in asking.

lol, as long as we're all kind of on the same page here, I'll see what I can do. We're all friends here except of course for those of us who aren't.

Yes today I'm answering a big long comment full of questions from someone calling themselves the Cat In The Hat. Really it does never hurt to ask, all I have to do is not answer if I'm not ready, and admittedly I'm not entirely ready to answer everything I was asked. The questions are also for Willie and David, and I've asked them for their answers.

Let's do this thing.

I was just wondering since you and David are no longer going to be married, will you split the taking care of the kids and working 50/50? I think it would be very positive for him to spend more 1 on 1 time with the boys. I know you say that it would make no sense for you to work, but as the situation is unraveiling it seems that you would be able to pick up a little slack for David.

I will not be working for a few reasons. One, he's not quitting either job right now because he's trying to go back to CHP and show them job stability, even though his dad tried to convince him to quit the pizza place and go on food stamps because we would get more in benefits than he gets on his paycheck.

Okay, even that's stupid as fuck, and here's why. Not only does it look bad to CHP that he quit his job to go on government assistance, but it also looks bad to the loan lady man who is trying to get him a house, and remember that the whole point of getting a house is to impress CHP and also because our mortgage will be less than our rent. Also? That's great that we'll get something like $600 a month in food benefits but his check from The Cans does not cover rent. I'd hate to be sitting there with $300 worth of food benefits when we're $300 short for rent.

Of course people sell them all the time but that's illegal and I don't need to explain why we won't be doing anything illegal.

Furthermore, even if I were to hire Willie on as the babysitter so I could go work 20 hours a week at Starbucks or something, we'd technically lose our apartment. See, we live in Section 42 housing, and remember that I moved from Building Over 9000 to Flat At Least 100 (oh hey this is apartment G that's cool) and in doing so some things changed. Over at Over 9000 because we had been there for four years our income cap was up to something like $50,000 a year. Because we're on a new contract, we actually barely squeaked in to the flat because we make the cap exactly, like it was so close that we had to call The Cans and The Pizza Place and make sure that they didn't over guess his hours because we would have easily gone over. So even if I were to work right now I'd just be fucking us.

Possibly I suppose if I had to I could after we re-certify this summer but hopefully what will be happening then is we'll have the big house and we'll be moving at least Willie in for the time being--Willie says he doesn't think his dad is dying just yet and he's actually looking into getting some treatment for his cancer that came back so no need to uproot the kids yet--and Willie will be attending school and in doing that Willie will be less available to help his dad and so I will probably be helping his dad.

So no, I'm not going to be working. I'm going to continue to run the behind the scenes stuff like I do for David now, washing his socks and wagging my finger, and I'll be doing the same for Willie by making sure he actually follows through with his schooling and such.

I was also wondering why you don't talk about girlie as much as you talk about everone else? Do you like her as much as the others?

I love Girly, I really do, it's just that I really don't bond well with females. I guess I'm still trying to figure her out and figure out how to really bond with her. She's quite fond of me and always wants to spend the night, she's a good girl. She really needs a positive female influence in her life and I'm the first stable female this family has seen in a very long time.

The poor girl really thought that when Dad brought home that Bar Bitch that she was going to have a new mommy. And it took her a very long time after this woman stopped coming around (after she stole the pills) for Girly to realize that Dad wasn't even dating her, he was just helping her out. I think she may still think that the woman is coming back.

As much as I want to be a positive role model to this girl, I do feel like I'm failing her. She herself said that I was a bad role model because I got pregnant too soon and married too soon, and her cousin was married for three years before they had a baby and that's the right way, and maybe she's right. I do love this girl, I do want to teach her how to use hair clippies and probably take her to Walgreens to buy her first pads when the time comes, I just don't know how to really get to the point with her that I am with Red. Red and I hold hands, and Red the other day looks at me and says "Jessie why are you so sad?"

And he meant all the time. Not just then. He really, really pays attention to me.

I told him if I'm single when he is 24 to call me.

I figure that'll buy me some time. I couldn't ever actually be with that kid, grown up or not. We have the same first name. I would be hilarious but very very wrong and weird.

Are you, Willie and David going to share the same bed forever?

Funny story that. See, Willie is quite a noisy sleeper. He grinds his teeth, he snores, he wiggles, he squeezes, and one time he punched me. He also talks. "F-22" he said to me one night, trying to convince me of it. "F-22!" is all I know. And usually when Willie and David and I are all in the same bed, David gives up half way through the night and goes to sleep on the couch. This last time though Willie slept like an angel and we all made it through.

I should say that we will attempt to sleep in the same bed, as that is our intention, but that it doesn't always work out.

I suppose you're probably asking if when we move out we'll all sleep together, and I'm not sure what's really going to go on with that. What if David meets someone else? I do know that if we had a house tomorrow Willie and I would be in a bed, I know that much. Would David be with us? Well, I can't imagine David wanting to be lonely all night, but also with Willie's crazy sleeping I'm not so sure really.

And would I give up sleeping with Willie so that David would not be lonely?

Perhaps I'll just buy Willie some nose strips and sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star so he passes out hard enough that he doesn't bother anyone. Nyquill can't hurt.

To be honest, I'm not sure. One day I'm sure David will no longer be in bed with Willie and I, but I don't know when or why or how yet.

Have you and Willie been sexually intimate yet? (as in had sex).

I'm going to answer this by not answering this.

Does Ty know whats going on, have you explained anything to him or made a plan to?

Ty loves Willie very much, as does Wade. But just like the kids don't know the full picture of our marriage, they don't know the full picture of what me and Willie have. Granted we don't make out or fondle each other in front of them, the kids do see Willie and I hug and give pecks because there is nothing wrong with loving your friends. Both Girly and Red kiss the boys goodbye, and they know that it feels good to be hugged, which is why people do it.

We'll tell the boys when there is something to tell them. Like, "Mom and Dad love you very much and that's why we are staying together in this big house, because we also love each other as well, but we love each other as friends and as Mom and Dad. Not husband and wife. Mom and Willie love each other like a husband and wife do and that is why they're married and Dad agrees with it. Happiness is very important so long as nobody is hurting anyone else."

After all, what does it really teach the children if I'm a shell of a person for the rest of my life because I'm not happy? Willie is what makes me happy. David knows this. And he told me last night that he's going to fight to make sure I'm happy with Willie. He's going to do everything I can because the bottom line is that the two of us really do belong together.

How does Marborol Man feel about the whole situation?

He thinks we're fucking and if that's the case then it's wrong. He's old fashioned as hell, and we aren't keeping him in the loop on this one because we're all grown ass adults here and it's none of anyone's business what we do.

Dad knows that Willie and I are the very best of friends, and he sees what the kids see in that we hang on each other and kiss and hug. We snuggle on the couch and when I sleep over Willie always ends up with me.

He also knows that David and Willie have a Bromance and that Willie wouldn't hurt David by stealing me away. And for the record Willie hasn't stolen anything. We've had permission from David to be together and it's just blossomed so incredibly much, and everyone is still happy including David. We talk a lot.

Basically we're not really discussing anything with him because it's none of his business at this point. When it is, then we'll talk. But he's not stupid either and I think he knows and is just waiting for one of us to talk. He does know that we're getting divorced and he does agree with the reasons, and he's not a man who believes in divorce. So it is what it is.

Questions for David, Again you obviously don't have to answer but no harm in asking.
Do you want to divorce Jessie, Just a yes or no would be good please.

"Yes, because we weren't meant to be married. We were meant to be friends and raise children together but I'm sick of seeing her stressed over how my family treats her. I can't give her what she needs, and she can't give me what I need. But we'll always be together, I love her."

Are you sexually attracted to men, and would you ever be with one? I guess are you bisexual and open to a new relationship with another man?

"Generally speaking no. I mean I guess I could do it, might be kind of fun and interesting but I really don't think that's where this is going to go. We've thought about it and talked about it but Willie's my bro. He should be with Jessie, it's what's right."

Are you dating cutie pie?

"Not at this time."

Are you going to date anyone else?

"If I were to date anyone it would be her but I'm not really out there looking for anyone right now or anything."

Will you ever move out away from Jesse and Willie?

"I don't ever want to be apart from them. Jessie and I have children together and I love Willie. I love seeing them happy, it makes me happy. One day they might move like when the kids are older but it's the three of us together forever."

If MM dies, and everyone moves in with you, are you going to be the only one that works?

"Willie will have a job while he's going to school, he's already said this. Perhaps when Wade's in school there might be a chance of Jessie working if she wants to but I would never ask her or make her find work. I will support her and my children for the rest of my life. They are my family whether I'm married to her or not. The mother of my children will never be without."

Do you regret Jesse meeting Willie even in the slightest?

"Absolutely not. We need him."

Did you ever think that you and Jesse would be married forever?

"I was hoping to be but realistically the whole marriage is a sham. What I do know is that we'll be together forever as a family and that she is my best friend. I couldn't live without her."

Are you going to patch things up with your parents?

"I'm going to try but I don't think they're willing to try, so I don't know."

Questions for Willie.
Do you feel guilty at all for what is happening with Jesse and David?

"It was a long time coming from what I've seen and heard. It's not entirely his parents' fault and it's not entirely his fault or Jessie's fault, but I see why they're splitting up and it is sad but if they can work things out better as friends then I don't think anyone should feel guilty or at fault here."

Are you going to school in the fall for sure?

"Nothing's ever for sure, but that's the plan."

How do you fell about Jesse not believing in God and if you ever have kids together, how to you want them to be raised religion wise?

"I think she's doing a pretty good job with her boys because they're being free to discover what they want and not being forced into anything. When people are forced to believe in things they pull away from it. I want my children to find God and have that love just come naturally. See I don't like to pray as a group and I don't really like to talk much about it myself so I'll just try to guide them and hope they come out okay."

Ok thanks guys, just curious and im sure most of the readers want to know this stuff but wont ask. Im not atacking in anyway and don't mean to sound harsh or anything like that. If anything comes off that way, its not my intent.

Sincerly, the cat in the motha f'in hat. ;)

About A Boy

2009-12-03T08:35:00.000-08:00

A brief history of Willie:

Willie's mother lived in Maine near a Naval base and wanted out, so she fucked a sailor until boom she was knocked up and she could move with the daddy to California. Shortly afterward, Willie Dean was born to the Irish lady and the Spanish guy with the last name that sounds not unlike "my eggos" as in "lego my eggos" only with a G which actually makes it "gy eggos" but with a sexy Spanish sound to it even though it's easily butchered due to it not being spelled phonetically but I'm spelling it phonetically here. Think about those commercials about the most interesting man in the world you hear on the radio or see on TV, and just imagine him saying "I don't always drink beer, but when I do I prefer Gy-eggos."

Once again, the name isn't being spelled correctly here on purpose.

One thing I do want to mention is that Willie is his full first name, like how mine is Jessie not Jessica and Ty's is Ty not Tyler. He does introduce himself to people as Will, however.

So then Leo got born and Willie tried desperately to give Leo to Santa. Santa thought that maybe his mom would want to keep his little brother and Willie vehemently disagreed and threw a little red headed fit and this is about the time that mom began to get rather violent. Not long after this, as in a few years maybe, the Navy dude abandoned the boys and their mom and the man you all know and love as the Marlboro Man showed up naked in Willie's mom's bed.

Unlike other suitors, the Marlboro Man became fond of these two fatherless boys. Mom was just another notch on his belt but these boys really needed him, and so he vowed to never leave them, ever. And he didn't. And when Willie jumped out of a tree and caught his armpit on a chain link fence, tearing deeply into his flesh, the Marlboro Man took him into the bathroom and showed him in the mirror his wound, explained what he was seeing by saying "Well these are your tendons, and that's muscle right there," etc. By the time Willie got to the emergency room he was so calm that the doctors thought he was on Valium.

And then Red was born, followed by the Girly.

But back to Willie, in high school he got into smoking weed, like lots and lots of weed, and mom was ever increasingly violent and doing some serious drugs herself. Family life was what it was, Dad became disabled after being electrocuted and mom was doing her own thing. It was no great way of life, so as soon as Willie was old enough to start work he got a job at DHL. His girlfriend was in a wheelchair and they dated for two years but never had sex with her, but did have two one night stands some time in his high school years, one with a friend and one with a girl he fucked on a dryer in the back yard whose name he has forgotten. Two days before his wheelchaired girlfriend's two year anniversary she told him she loved him and he couldn't say it back because it wasn't true for him, so she broke up with him and was pregnant by another guy just months after this fact.

Later Willie and his mom would have a fight, and this is after she called for a divorce on the grounds of Dad having cancer and no longer being able to work, so Willie moved in with friends who then got evicted and then more friends who ended up going through his stuff to then living with his ex girlfriend and her new husband and her little baby. DHL had dissolved at this point so he was out of a job and therefore looking for work. In the mean time he dug through dumpsters to find cans and bottles to recycle, and one time found $140 in the pocket of a pair of jeans in the dumpster behind Target. But it wasn't real "work" so the wheelchair girl kicked him out.

At this point his mother already said she wanted nothing to do with him, don't call her, don't talk to her, don't even look at her because they're not family and she has no son. And so he called his dad, not his biological Navy guy dad but the Marlboro Man--the only true dad he ever knew, and Dad reported that Leo had moved out. Leo was the caretaker of him and the two kids, who all now lived with their grandfather out near Pasadena, but going to school and taking care of all of this shit got rough I guess and he wanted to live with his mom back in Moreno Valley.

Willie was invited to stay and help.

Grandfather had brain tumors and became quite disabled himself, so Willie's job was not only to take care of his dad and brother and sister but change his grandfather's diapers as well. Brain damage caused grandfather to not be able to recognize everyone and he would occasionally mumble nonsense. Some meddling neighbor woman got into the grandfather's brain that Marlboro Man was stealing from him and such and convinced him to go file elder abuse charges. The charges were completely unfounded, in fact the woman who convinced grandfather of these things was also making violent threats against the kids and calling Girly a little bitch and swore that if she told her father she'd knock the living shit out of her.

Due to the whole heatedness of the situation, the clan decided to move. And so they made it out to Beaumont where family is kind of scattered and they found some low income apartments which is what they need due to Dad only having disability. Willie was told that if he gets a job they will be over the income limit however, and so it was agreed that Willie could stay and be on the lease in exchange for doing housework, shopping, babysitting, and caring for his very ill father.

Willie does laundry every morning, has breakfast set in the mornings and dinner smacked down on the table every night. He cooks because it is his passion, and will concoct his own recipes. Granted part of his motivation for food is munchie related which is why a lot of what they make involves crushing up Doritos and mixing them with things, and he always cooks for an army. He watches cartoons and WWE and eats butter toffee peanuts every chance he gets. His main transportation is a longboard but he also rides a bike, however he does not have a driver's license because he is phobic of driving--something he has to and will get over, and has decided to correct shortly.

Socially he drinks Buds with his dad but pours them out after maybe drinking half, but used to pound them back like nobody's business before I came along and made him feel like maybe he didn't need to drink so much. He's also working on quitting smoking which he has done since he was 17, and is down from a pack a day to four a day, and he no longer takes out the filter to smoke them like he used to. He has holes in his gums from when he did chew tobacco for about two months back in high school and he's very seriously trying to quit addictions all together.

Pot is an indulgence for him right now because he has nobody to answer to, and I guess--if you have no reason not to, then why not? Except that he has to stop because if his dad dies and he tries to get custody of the kids, which is what is being planned, he'll need to be clean. He's trying not to stress right now, he's got a lot of stressful things that he tries to just relax about. Hence the pot. Illegal maybe, but irresponsible no. He gets his shit done. He's never been impaired from doing any of his responsibilities.

The boy is healthy as a horse though, full of energy and always doing something. So healthy and fit in fact that his doctor asked him what it is that he does, if he trains for the Olympics or what exactly is making his heart the way it is, because I guess he has a super good heart--in more ways than one, I think.

He says hello to everyone, he hugs strangers, he carries groceries for people, and he loves children. He's Christian but doesn't like to pray out loud and feels that his relationship with God is personal and nobody's business but his own. He believes in the 10 commandments and would do anything to see me smile. When I'm sad his eyes water, and though he gets sad he always tries to look at the positive side of things. He'll be his own silver lining if he has to, or constructs one out of foil should he need further visualization. He finds happy faces everywhere, like the way his soup in his bowl sits or how the water on the pavement formed into two eyes and a mouth.

He's growing his hair out for Locks of Love to give to a cancer patient, and yes that is his natural color. His eyes have this circle of orange around his pupils against the green, and his dad always said that he has fire in him and that women are afraid of the fire.

I'm not afraid of the fire that is in Willie.

In fact it's that fire that I saw in him that drew me to him. It wasn't the beacon of red hair on his head that entirely drew me in though it was a major talking point. It's always been a theme, this fire, and I've always said that the way he looks at me is as if he wants to light me on fire. When he play fights with my kids or his brother he pretends to throw fire balls, and even had Wade up on his shoulders yesterday going "foogh, foogh, foogh" and throwing the fireballs as well. Willie believes that he can shoot sparks from his fingertips.

I believe it too, but for a different reason. I've felt them. Makes my heart jump.

It's odd how he loves fire but respects it and not in a pyromaniac way. He knows it's a force to be reckoned with and if not tamed it can put a hurtin' on you as his dad would say.

So I suggested maybe being a fire fighter, maybe going to school in the fall to be a paramedic. And he agreed with me.

You see nobody has ever guided him before. His dad, the Marlboro Man himself has never had a passion. He became an electrician because you make a shit ton of money at it, but it was nothing he was driven toward. He said he's never had a passion to do anything except be a father. God how that man wanted oodles and oodles of kids, 10 of them at least. This might be why he took to little Willie and little Leo, and it's certainly why he stayed with a woman he didn't necessarily love and who was horrible to him and all those kids for years. He promised Willie he'd never leave him and he never ever did.

Willie's been taught lessons before, he's learning his way around via the things his dad teaches him, and perhaps at the end of the day all he really wants to do is love and be a father himself.

When I said that my sister couldn't take care of me and sent me to a foster home, Willie couldn't comprehend it. He said he'd fight to the death to keep Girly and Red. He refers to them as "his kids" and has never left either of them either, and perhaps he never will. They're too young to really understand it but Willie loves these children with all his heart and I do truly believe that he would do anything in his power to care for them.

Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.

Emotionally he suffers from not being able to let his rage get the best of him. That fire he has always stays at a roar but never lashes out of his throat in the violent spats that dragons seem to do. He's too positive, too happy, but he's got his demons--we all do. My demons hail in comparison to some of his and likewise some of mine are probably too complex to slay, even for him, Mr. Happy Go Lucky.

He's honest and caring and when he says he'd never hurt me I believe him. He does play rough with me, as you might have seen on one of the videos when he randomly pushed me over, but being the big brother for all these years he's an expert at bossing people around with his hands without actually hurting them. On the couch he manipulates Wade into all of these wrestling moves and yells them out like "gut wrench power bomb" and "Celtic cross." On the rare occasion that Wade actually gets hurt due to a hard or awkward landing, he stops and kisses him and apologizes, and usually Wade just wants to get back up and play again.

He's stronger than shit. Though he did lose arm wrestling to both David and Steppy, you have to remember that both of those guys are barrels and Willie's only 135. But he manipulates me into gut wrench power bombs as well. I've never been hurt.

He said it doesn't matter than I'm 26, he's still the big brother.

It's not really so much of a brother and sister thing with us, mind you, it's just that he wants me to know that he can kick my ass--but in a fun and non scary sense. Being thrown around has never been more fun. I trust him completely.

Willie never wanted to see David and I's marriage end, in fact as he would tell me that he loves me, is in love with me and does want to be with me if it were ever possible one day, he wanted to see David and I work out because he loves David and doesn't want to see him hurt. Willie does absolutely love David and I know he would not want to see him hurt. But when David and I told him that we agreed that we should be divorced and that we would "stay together" but without the legal bindings, and David gave Willie--well, me I guess--Willie smiled and hugged us both. It really is all three of us. Through the thick and thin. Through the sick and sin.

Willie told David privately the other night how happy I make him feel. How awesomely happy and wonderful he wakes up feeling just knowing he has me. David warmly gave his blessing. He wants to see us together and he wants to see us work out.

Internet, you may not ever love Willie. I'm prepared to lose readership, and that's fine, I lose readership all the time. But Willie is a permanant fixture in my life and I do want you to know that if you love David then know that David loves Willie and Willie is David approved. It won't make a difference to some of you, but to those that it does, just give him a chance.

I admit that I'm still getting to know him too, so I know it's weird that we're over here talking about marriage and kids and all of this shit, but I also don't want you to think that I don't know what I'm doing. I do know. I do think about how fast it's all moving and it's all very sudden to me as well. Willie wants us to take our time as far as settling down though--not with each other, we've already made the decision that when I am his bride we will not be having an open marriage.

Oddly, the three of us discussed it and we all kind of agree that five years ago when David and I decided to be open and neither of us ever used our so called hall pass in those five years, it was almost as if we were waiting for Willie to come along. We were waiting for him with open arms.

After all, why not Steppy?

I suppose it could have been if I was just looking to fuck around.

I'm not fucking around with Willie, internet. This is serious business.

We're waiting for everything to fall into place, and we're going with the flow.

Through the thick and thin.

There are places I remember
All my life, though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends, I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life, I've loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I'll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I'll often stop and think about them
In my life, I'll love you more

The Crash

2009-12-02T21:15:00.000-08:00

"JT and Willie and David have this love triangle thing going on," Leo tells his girlfriend over the phone in my passenger seat. "It's weird," he adds.

I got this patheti-sad phone call from Willie's 19 year old brother Leo in the morning saying that he feels all uninvited from family stuff and that Willie's being a jerk and not answering his phone and all he wanted to do was come over and Dad won't answer either and I'm like "Leo, your dad is out of medicine and has been for about a week. He does not feel well. I'm sorry that he didn't feel up to Christmas shopping and I'm sorry that they're not answering their phones right now."

Leo's not quite getting that in a dazed sleep his dad might promise a night out on the town but when it comes right down to it I'm usually the one driving Willie in the Jeep to go pick up burgers for everyone at home instead. These things never really pan out. Cancer's so god damned unpredictable.

Leo is like a collicky baby. They're so cute and sad and you just want to help them, but you know, it would be really nice right about now if it would stop fucking crying. Just for like a minute.

I love Leo, the little brat, and that he openly calls me his sister even though I'm Willie's friend and he and Willie clash on so many levels.

"It's just that I wanted to like spend a day with just Willie or something," he says sadly. "It's like he never even wants to do that."

HA! I know how much red tape there is to go through to clear a full day with Willie. All plans can change last minute if Dad gets one of his headaches or anything like that. At the end of the day Willie's job is to take care of his sick dad and his little brother and sister, and he's on call 24/7.

Willie had been stressing for a few days over what to tell Leo. I mean it's not like Leo is company since he's family, but there are some days when Dad, especially without his meds, prefers quiet and peace and nobody around. These are the days that the kids play outside a lot or maybe over here and Willie skedaddles on with them. But Leo with his sad whiny puppy act, I just love the kid so much, so I offered to pick him up and let him stay here. Not that he wouldn't be allowed to go over and see his dad, it's just that extra people staying the night there was just going to be stressful and all that, so I said I'd get him and he'd be my guest. He agreed, and Willie came with me to pick him up.

I'm all for winning Leo over. I want to know him, and the rest of the family as well. I've never had such a craving to just snuggle on people and absorb all of those uncle hugs I missed growing up.

Uncle Mitch I'm told gives the best hugs, the right amount of pressure and the perfect amount of pats.

And no, I don't want Leo like I want Willie, I just want Leo to be the grumpy little puppy boy on my couch every now and then. I'm happy to report that he actually invited me to sit on his lap to watch Youtube videos, and when David and he and Willie left for a store run and I was kissing my two men goodbye Leo offered a cheek.

Naturally everyone ended up spending the night, with makeshift couch and floor beds all over my house and the Steam Boat Willie blanket sprawled on my bed where he and David and I snuggle together, and I'm happy to report that Leo joined us in the cuddle huddle on my bed for a good solid four minutes. And god he feels good to cuddle with, just like his brother. They're both incredibly warm people with perfectly soft and flawless skin. Willie is prettier with his freckle patches, though David is actually on Team Leo as far as who is the cuter brother, but cuddling is not about who is cute, cuddling is about who is warm and who squishes better.

Team Willie for the win.

And then Leo went to his couch, and then sleep came and it was such a good sleep. I could sleep between David and Willie forever.

The morning was gorgeous, David got Ty his cereal and got him off to school while Willie made coffee for the two of them. God, they're like Ozzy and Harriet. And while the house full of kids still slept, David went off to work with kisses and then Willie and I stayed under my fluffy feather comforter drinking coffee and enjoying being in a full house...like maybe one day it will be. All those kids, plus Leo, plus Steppy if he's in on it, plus...maybe more kids. Who knows? But it was warm and we knew that Dad was already off to go see the doctor to get his meds refilled and we knew that things would be bright. Nothing could kill my mood, I had my soul mate, my sky, my red haired angel just all snuggled up to me and the house was all full of slumber late into the morning. Jammy pants and Steam Boat Willie blankets, coffee cups and beard tickling kisses. Willie had to run back home to take care of some stuff so I got up to start my day and then David called.

"My dad's pissed," he said. "Like I'm pretty sure this is the maddest he's ever been."

I've always found it amusing when they pretend that they don't read my blog even though I can see their hits come in morning after morning for years, and yet his mom called on Thanksgiving and David said we were spending the holiday with Willie's family, and she pretended not to know who Willie was. Funny that.

"He said he raised me better than this and that the lord is going to punish us all for being adulterers."

Awesome.

"He said he raised me better than this."

Way to go.

"He's pissed that the kids call the Marlboro Man their grandpa."

Golly gee, I'm the one calling him Dad here, David calls the man by his first name. PEOPLE USUALLY HAVE TWO SETS OF GRANDPARENTS AND I'M SORRY THAT MY NATURAL ONES COULDN'T BE HERE TO BE CALLED ANYTHING BY MY CHILDREN. I'm sorry but I'm trying to provide my children with family that they don't have because the ones who are still alive don't want to associate with us because I exist.

Has his parents ever called just to ask to see the kids or speak to them?

At least the Marlboro Man doesn't get jealous that the kids call the guy David calls his dad grandpa.

Christ.

"He said that they never said they'd not be rude to me, they never said they'd ever accept you into the family if we got married."

And then my day went south. I've tried for many many years, many many years to work things out with them. I've tried being stepped on, I've tried ignoring them, insulting them, befriending them, kissing their asses, proving my worth, and none of it ever got through.

At the end of the day, I really was never, ever meant to be David's wife. Ever.

And yes, they did say they'd take it easier on me, and I specifically remember telling his mom that we decided to get married and she smiled, but not like a happy for us smile, but a she got her way smile.

I remember these things. I know I remember these things because I remember how upset they were that we were just going to elope and that they were a little relieved that we decided to invite them to our small ceremony. Or that's how they acted anyway. How they really felt I suppose I'll never truly know.

Whatever their defense is, nobody forced them into signing the papers. I suppose David and I weren't either but we both felt backed into a wall.

And about this time is when I left everyone to their Fruity Pebbles and Skip-Bo cards and walked straight over to Willie's house where he met me at the door. "What's wrong?" he immediately asked.

It's weird, but he senses me. He knows I'm coming before I'm even there and knows I'm upset before he's even seen my face. But I told him, and I got all teary and started to cry.

My marriage is destroyed. David, who I love but am leaving because there's something wrong with me that makes them not like me and I'm just too tired to try anymore, makes me sad to even look at because here we are thinking that if we split they'll maybe be able to mend something--I mean talk about your cake and eating it too.

Many of you seem to think that I'm over here using David, who someone referred to as "paycheck" (which pisses me off and don't ever be a bitch like that again) and just living it up all day with Willie. Some of you called it having cake and eating it too, well how's this for cake?

"We hate your wife." And then he says he's divorcing his wife and they go "You're fucking it all up."

Adultery is a heavy word. Look, nobody's being dishonest here, everyone is on the same page, nobody is being hurt or lied to, and I don't see anything selfish about that. What's selfish is the way people go out and fuck around and lie about it and hurt one another in the end.

Maybe the problem here is that David and I are ending our marriage and not our whole relationship, not severing all the ties by living together and oh oh, me still using HIS money. Driving HIS car. Moving my boyfriend into HIS house.

I could be a total divorce bitch and sue him for child support and fuck him over good like his brother got fucked over, but I don't want that. I want it to be amicable. I want us to be happy and I can only see that happening if the stupid piece of paper that binds us legally is torn to shreds and set on fire.

There is no marriage here. There is a friendship, there is a parenthood, but this is not what a marriage should be.

Someone asked me if I could separate my feelings for the Marlboro clan from the feelings I have for Willie. If I could imagine for whatever reason only being able to have Willie without the whole family and all of those uncle hugs. Grammy's vegan food. A man I call Dad. Could I have just Willie and be content? What if there was no family? Say we moved to Maine for whatever reason.

Internet, I love Willie in a way that I have never loved David. I love him in a way that separates him from his family as it is. And I love his family separate from the way I love him.

I love the way that we all walked to Walgreens today to buy toys and candy--mostly for us three adults (Willie's treat, just so you don't think I'm using David's money on frivilous stuff,) and that Leo knew I was sad so he fed me gummy bears. And I love the look he gave me when I think he finally figured us out.

I love the way that Red walked one aisle over in the parking lot with me to grab something from David, and when I asked why he wasn't following the rest of the group into the store he said "Someone's got to protect you."

I love that I say "hi" to Dad and he always says "not yet but I'm working on it."

Oh yes, I love my family and I love my place with the Marlboro's.

But I never move this fast with people, with families and especially kids and grumpy Leo boys and gruff leather cancer dads, and I certainly never EVER move so fast with a love that he knows when I am about to walk around the corner, or make serious plans to take his last name on paper and all, and certainly not so fast that I actually melt and know, just fucking know, that when he walks by me in the kitchen and whispers into my ear that he wants to make beautiful babies with me he's being 100% serious. Not wooing me or saying something he thinks I want to hear, because as of before he whispered that I decided not to have any more babies with ANYONE. And then he put his hand on my belly and kissed me, and it was like he was staking a claim.

Oddly, Willie is the dominant one. I'm usually dominant and it's weird that someone else is dominant. But it feels...right. And natural.

I only wish that I could have ever had the--almost clarity I have with Willie, the knowing that whether the family is there or not this is going to work--with David. Don't get me wrong, I've loved him forever and I will love him forever and I've always thought we'd be married forever. But really, scan my 4 1/2 years of archives and tell me if you don't see a pattern. A dark cloud that hovers and keeps us apart.

As I've said for a long time, we're best friends. I married my best friend.

This time I'm going to marry my husband.

My soul mate.

I'll take whatever punishment awaits me. I no longer fear what I do not understand.

I'm also aware that this is all coming to fruition so incredibly fast and you're all waiting for the crash.

People have waited around for my crashes before.

Such is life.

Let's get lost--fingers first.

The Next Chapter pt. 2

2009-12-01T13:30:00.000-08:00

In this installment we’re going to talk about the divorce its self and what it means, how it will all go down, etc.

You know, I was standing at the bottom of Willie’s stairs with Red who I love love love, I mean I truly love this kid because he reminds me so much of Wade with his freckles and red hair and chubby-cuteness. Kid’s going to be a bruiser, made for football and all that just like my red head. But such a sweet cuddly teddy bear.

Looking up at Willie who is carrying toys and a jacket for Ty and helping Wade with his shoes, Red says to me “Willie’s going to make a great father some day.”

“Yes he will,” I answered. He’s so good to my kids, you have no idea, and he’s helped me so much with learning how to keep them under control and how to keep my cool. Remember when they were banned from eating with the Marlboro family because they didn’t finish their food and got all picky and whiny with everything they were plated? They knocked that shit right off and last night ate everything on their plates.

One afternoon when Willie was leaving, Wade went running out after him and yelled “I love you Willie! I love you!” Willie’s eyes filled with tears, as usual…actually not as usual because he said he’s never fucking teared up this much. It’s just really emotionally overwhelming for him lately, this I understand. I don’t usually do it either.

Willie loves my kids and now that Wade said it first, he’s started saying it to them regularly. Tackles them and kisses them, but tells me that no matter what happens between he and I he doesn’t ever want them to call him dad, ever. They’ve got a dad and a fine one at that. He’s Willie, and everybody needs a little Willie, right?

I looked up at Willie, who looked down at me having heard my reply, and then Red said “Why couldn’t you have met Willie first?”

Now remember, Red is 12, he doesn’t understand the implications of what he said, he just knows that wow it would be so cool if Jessie could be his sister for real, if he could see his brother who he loves so happy. I know this because Red has told me himself that Willie and I would be perfect together if I wasn’t married.

“Red I love David and I love that I met him when I did. We did things the super hard way and we’re in love, for real, and I wouldn’t trade that for anyone or anything. And if I hadn’t of met David I never would have lived here and I never would have met you guys.”

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs.

David and I really did this rough. We’ve only ever worked for our responsibilities, and I think yesterday someone said something to the effect of Willie and I being in some kind of honeymoon phase in how he says the right things and how we have no kids together and it’s all fun and games. David and I dated from June to November of 2002 before I got pregnant, even though I didn’t find out about Ty until some time in April or May due to lack of pregnancy symptoms and I was still getting my period.

David’s parents knew we were fucking, in fact we were going to tell them the news on New Year’s Day but his spit-fuck brother Matt got drunk the night before and spilled the beans, disallowing us the opportunity to be all adult about our adult relationship. Yes I was 19 and yes he was 15 and yes I was already pregnant. And yes, even though they knew everything but the last part, they allowed it. It wasn’t until I got fatter and fatter until I had a baby that I was given the heavy burden of trying to fit in with people who hated me for the sake of my child’s father.

God, I’ll always remember the things that woman said to me. “This baby is a product of your bad judgment,” and “Don’t you dare put our name on the birth certificate, you don’t know it’s his.” Right, but I did, because David was the only one I was fucking and I’m pretty sure fucking is the thing that causes babies, or that’s been my experience anyhow. If it really does happen through hand holding please let me know. But once that baby was born God how they wanted to fuss over it and—I don’t even know what they wanted, ultimately. His mom would take Ty and refuse to give him back to me, literally turning her body so I couldn’t grasp my own child, but then talk about DNA tests and cry about how embarrassed she was to have to tell the folks at church what I had done.

You know, stolen David’s seed and created some kind of baby with him or something.

You can’t rape the willing. And David was plenty old enough and mature enough to know what he was doing.

Had he listened to them and done what they asked, I never would have breathed so much as his first name to the internet or to anyone else. Because I gave him the choice to either let me drop him off at his house and never speak to me again and I would never come after him for child support or anything at all, or be there and help me raise this baby that was coming so soon, be a father and do what ultimately is the right thing.

I had a really hard time knowing what to do at this point. I had this infant and I myself could really only give it an aunt and uncle and a few scatted relatives, but here were the child’s natural grandparents going back and forth on staking their claim over him and then suggesting that maybe David not have anything to do with the baby.

Unconditional love is supposed to be unconditional.

One day after Ty was born, because I said that I didn’t hate gay people like they did, they threatened to press charges against me for statutory rape. This was nearly a year after they found out that we were sexually involved, only weeks or so after the baby was born, and suddenly they wanted to bring me to court because I didn’t hate like them. It was very very confusing for me and through it all David painfully began to turn his back to his parents to look after me. Because nobody was looking after me. I mean I had a roof and my sister was generously paying for diapers and formula and supporting me in that way, but she’s not the type of person I go to with emotional problems. There’s a thick wall there. The only person I had to talk to was David, and David listened to me. I mean really listened to me. He wanted to make things easier for me because he knew I was in pain. I knew he hurt too, but I could never fully comprehend it because I never knew parental love. I can’t even say I loved my father because I don’t remember feeling anything like that for him or having any kind of affection or anything, I just remember fishing trips and him being kind of buddy buddy with my crazy brother. I remember him working in the shop and I remember him buying me a puppy, but I don’t remember a single kiss or whispered “I love you.” I couldn’t comprehend what it must feel like to have to tell your parents to fuck off and try to be someone’s savior.

A very damaged someone’s savior. And perhaps a damaged savior for that damaged someone at that.

So David and I cleaved to each other. And through it all we were insulted, punished, doubted, alienated, hurt, etc. We were working to keep each other together and keep us together and then David’s sister in law Crystal offered us an out. She said she talked to his mom and all his mom wanted was to see us married because it’s not right for the baby to be born to unmarried parents and for us to continue on (fucking I assume) out of wedlock.

I wanted the pain to stop.

And two weeks later when we made the trip to Vegas, it didn’t. And it didn’t stop a month later when we got our first apartment. And two months later when we couldn’t make rent. And all those other times we couldn’t make rent—hell, now even. It didn’t stop when Wade came about and it didn’t stop when I started blogging my feelings and his mom found it and they threatened me. It didn’t stop when I tried for nearly five years to get my message across to them that I love David and I would never hurt David, I would never abuse him and I only want what’s right and what’s best for him even when it’s at my own expense.

He could quit the pizza place and I could not be alone at night, and we’d have to move to Banning and probably get our stuff stolen and our kids wouldn’t be able to play outside and I guess we could skip things like Christmas and electricity, I guess. But he and I want better—not that we have anything extravagant, and I’ve never asked him for very much, I hardly even treat myself to things like new clothes. But we live in a safe area and we have some couches and a few things to eat. It’s pretty all right. I never see my husband but it’s pretty all right. Because when I do see him, you know, I get so drawn into those too blue eyes and I remember why I put in so much effort to stick around.

It sucks that I can’t be comfortable around the people who created him, and that there’s so many people in his family and not one of them likes me. I stopped sending Christmas cards years ago. The silence was deafening.

I see a bride, her wedding gown and happy smile, and I think “bitch, you have no idea what you’re getting into.”

Not that I ever expected to sail through any of this, nor would I expect to do so with someone else. And though we stayed so solid through it all we never got to nurture anything. My in laws have always hung over us like a dark cloud, not just because they were mean to me but because he had a hard time accepting that they didn’t love who he loved. And yes he says well fuck that and he doesn’t need them etc, etc, etc, but he does. They’re his folks, and they won’t be around forever.

“David, Victor’s funeral was so very hard on me,” is how I began speaking to him after I posted the entry before last. I know the subject of my dead ex is touchy still six days now before it’s been a year since he passed away, and the last time I tried to speak about it Willie was here, and I said to David “Victor’s death is what started me to thinking about all this, because it really messed me up,” and he replied “Victor was an asshole and he was supposed to die.”

Willie cried again. For me this time…with me.

I sat alone with David and looked him in the eyes, trying to explain what I could to him about what started this spiral of self exploration and pot cookies and neighbor boys. “It’s hard to look at hands that you used to hold, that used to pet your hair and touch your face—and they’re all pruny and the nails are trimmed too neatly, and you know that Victor never would have trimmed his nails that neatly on his own…it’s clear someone cut them for him to dress him up a little. And on this chest you used to sleep on is this suit, and it’s just laying on him like material does. There’s eyes that you used to look into and…they’re closed.”

It was like a light went on in his brain.

“David, I’m not worth getting fucked up over, and Victor wasn’t either. You’re right, he was an asshole and he treated me like shit and did some very horrible things to me. But he was such a huge part of my life for three years—three years David, I haven’t been alive very long, less certainly at that point in time. He was someone I chose, and I don’t choose a lot of people. David I will never be able to make you understand why I still cry about his being gone, but what I can tell you is you need to try to work things out with your parents, because you know what? They’re going to die. See, I’ve been talking to Dad a lot lately, and Dad’s dying right now. When a dying person talks you really just listen instead of waiting for your turn to speak, and I’m learning so much about what life really is all about. It’s not about pride and rules, David, it’s about living and being happy. Your parents didn’t hate me to me malicious to you, they were just concerned for you, concerned that I was not the right one and that I’d hurt you. You and I know that I haven’t. I said I’d never leave you and I never have. But your parents David, they’re going to die. Here I am thinking it’s hard to stare at cold shaven skin over bones that used to pop when the person they’re made from used to stretch after naps you took together, when you’ve got the two people who created your very existence still here and still living and you won’t go say hello to them because of me. Because they think I’m a liar and I’m hurting you. And that’s stupid because you and I know it’s just not true. David…I really want you to listen to me. You need to go see your parents. I don’t have anything invested in them anymore, I don’t really care if they hate me. But you are your own person, your own man, and David, I won’t stand there with you at their funerals and try to console you as you wish you’d of said hello to them, let alone goodbye. David, I’m not worth it.”

Our divorce will be simple. It will take place in about three years, or however long it takes for him to get hired on and settled in with CHP or whatever agency he’s going to end up with. We don’t own anything together, the car is his and the house is his and I don’t want anything from him anyway in the way of money. Custody won’t be an issue because we’ll be under the same roof, we’ll be co-parenting our children. We’ll maybe go out to dinner when it’s finalized and once Willie finishes his schooling and he’s in at one of the fire departments around here, I can’t imagine anyone else walking me down the aisle to give me away but David. David is my family, the only one I have.

It’s funny because Willie says he’s always wanted to live in a big house with a lot of people. Not random people like the time he rented a room and lived with Samoans and black people and Mexicans and random stray teenagers that needed places to stay, but people he loves, just all packed under one roof. Everyone lives together in this village, every bedroom another person living and growing and knowing that on the other side of that wall is someone else doing the same and nobody gets left behind or forgotten. The kids are all very loved and are raised in a community atmosphere where they know they can turn to anyone for anything and know they’ll get what they need. Hippy style.

No fainting at school when people forget to feed you. No going out and trying to find acceptance and going about it all the wrong way. You’re afforded the opportunity to take your time and explore all avenues of relationships and careers, no being forced to take the quickest and easiest way to get money and try to stay afloat.

When you make a sandwich for yourself you ask if anyone else wants one too.

Hanging Christmas lights outside my flat because David was called into work, Willie staples some blue snowflakes to the eaves and tells me he’s already made the decision that I’m going to be his wife. Not now, and probably not in three years, but he’s waiting for me. He tells me that David gave him his blessing and I tell him I already know because David told me the same. He loves me and wants me to be happy. He loves Willie and wants him to be happy.

David, I told him, is still my hero. And I am still David’s doll.

The Next Chapter pt 1

2009-12-01T00:51:00.000-08:00

This is going to be a series of entries, starting with the last one. David and I talked until one in the morning and then until noon when we woke up and a lot of things have been covered and I can finally say with 100% assurance that David and I are at peace and that cigarette he smoked was the best thing that’s ever happened to our relationship. Because it brought up something that has been brewing for such a long time.

First of all, David and I are at peace, fixed, and happy. Because we’ve finally talked, did a year’s worth of talking—seven years, actually.

We’ve got a five year plan. And I’m going to discuss that over the next few entries. Stick around or don’t, I’ll still be here.

So let’s open up where we left off in our talk, which was still in its raw and hurtful phase. Shortly after I published that post we broke through all that and actually spoke slowly to one another without emotion.

There are things David cannot provide me, and there are things I cannot provide David. And all of this stems from the fact that our marriage—not our relationship but our marriage as in the piece of paper our names are on—is based on a lie.

That lie?

We were told that if we got married, David’s family would accept me and stop being so rude to me. That’s what we were told. And it was a lie. Obviously.

Would David and I have stayed together regardless of the paper? Absolutely. Ty was supposed to be here, as a result of a freak birth control related accident, but supposed to be here none the less. And had I not gotten married I’d of gone to school, he’d of gone to school, and when he turned 18 maybe we might have had a savings account. But we decided instead to please his family. Because I wanted a family more than anything and I thought it was going to be true. I love David, I wanted his family to love me. I wanted to not cry at night at the things they said to me.

So we planned a wedding in two weeks and I was a fat bride in a $70 dress.

David and I started out way too young, and we’ve never much enjoyed being married. We’ve always considered our friendship better than our marriage because we suck at being married. It’s always been this way.

Which is why we no longer want to be married. We weren’t meant to be together. We’re Team Terwilliger, but really I never even changed my name on paper. This is fact, bitches. I never changed it because I never wanted to be a part of that family. I didn’t want to be one of those people. I kept my maiden name and used my married name because I suppose being a Stuart was more important to me.

I will change my name though. When I remarry, I’m going to finally have David’s last name and the same name as my children, but hyphenated with Willie’s sexy Spanish power surname.

STOP.

Hello Internets. It’s me, David. I’ve decided to finish this blog entry with my thoughts.

I love Jessie with all my heart. She means the world to me she is why I exist. I can’t ever picture a life without her, my love, my first love, true love. We still Love each other very much. And we love Willie the same way. That’s right, WE love Willie. We’ve talked and talked and talked about our feelings on the situation and our plans for the future. Me and Jessie and Willie will all live together eventually. It feels natural. when I first met Willie i felt like i already knew him and that he had come in to our lives for a reason.

It’s bittersweet, when you think about it. I became a dad at the age of fifteen. i wasn’t ready. I grew up way too fast. But i wouldn’t exchange this life for an easier one if given the chance. Jessie saved me and I saved her. If we hadn’t of fallen in love I’d be the scum of the earth. I’d have gotten into drugs badly, would have dropped out of high school, thrown my life into the gutter. She would have been abused and widowed with two, maybe more, children. We were meant to find each other. But I also think IM 21 YEARS OLD. I dont know what the fuck im doing. I know i have a family to provide for which i will always do. And i know happiness is a necessity. Willie makes us happy.

STOP.

I agree, David. I think we’ve been trying to save a sinking ship since day one and we’ve had to fight the current and every storm that came.

Whoever said that Willie is not just a mere boy but a package was right. Willie provides to me the one thing I’ve never had but always wanted, and that’s family. David could never give me that and for that he is sorry, I know, do you agree with that David?

“Yeah.”

How do you feel about me finally finding someone who can give me that family?

“It’s what you need more than anything. I’d never stop you from being happy. I’m not going to tell you ‘no, you can’t have that family, you have to take the one I gave you because we’re married and you’re supposed to be with me and you’re supposed to just deal with the way they treat you.’ That’s bullshit. You’ve had it rough, yeah, you know we’ve grown up a lot.”

What do you mean by grown up?

“Our view on life is different. We started off thinking we could just do it on our own. We didn’t need family, we didn’t need anyone else because we’re in love and we’re starting a new thing together. We’ve always wanted to experiment with other people and we agreed that a monogamous lifestyle is not really natural. It’s natural to want more than one person, or a different person. We decided a long time ago that we wanted an open marriage, and never had a chance to do it until Willie came along. I met Willie first, before you met Dad at the bus stop I met Willie when he came to recycle. In a town mainly compiled of drug addicts, mentally disabled people, and just plain crazy freaks it’s rare to come across a person who is actually like me. I know that’s weird but I feel like I’m a real person, not fake. And that’s what I thought of Willie when I first met him, he’s not fake. He’s real. I knew that we would end up being friends, even more than friends, he’s like the brother I never had. When I first saw him riding his longboard to my place with his recyclables, I didn’t think ‘oh god here comes another tweaker coming to get money to get his fix’ like usual. No I saw him and thought, that guy looks cool. Like, he was coming towards me and I wanted him to keep coming towards me because I felt like I hadn’t seen him in a while. Like I knew him from somewhere, from before somewhere. It felt like—like a piece just snapped into place. I felt like a big piece of the puzzle was found, and you put it where it belongs, and it makes you feel that much better that the puzzle’s almost finished. And when we first started hanging out with him I felt like we were actually going to start—how should I put this—I can’t explain it, I don’t have the words.”

Well how do you feel about the three of us and our future together, my future with Willie and our future with each other and me and his future with you?

“I really want to, I want him to live with us and go to school, and if the old man dies Willie’s going to have the kids and we’ll take them in. I’m buying a five bedroom house because we’re going to be a big family where our kids are loved by many and his kids are loved by just as many and nobody’s left out. All three of us are always going to be friends. We’re both—I mean you’re my entire life right now, and I know I’m a big chunk of your life, but I think that we will still be together and in love forever, we’ll always be the parents to our children, we’re just not meant to be married. Like I said before, we were supposed to find each other, we were supposed to help each other get into a good place. We’ve come to a point where we need to venture. Explore. Yeah, people do it all the time, you can be with one person forever, I was planning on it. But I also understand that there’s more than just one person for every one person. You’ve got two. I’m not sure if you’re supposed to be married to him, that’s your decision, but we did a damn good job at being married. We never fought, there was never really any hard patches at all, and we’re not exactly jumping to get the papers signed right now. It’s just that we need to do what we need to do in order to find ourselves. That’s what I feel like. I’m 21 years old, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I feel so tiny in the world, I don’t know myself, I had to do what I had to do when I was 15 and now given the option now that I’m an adult and I have my options open, I have to find out, I have to explore and in doing that I can’t be there for you. When your Willie’s a fireman and he’s on four days working, you won’t be alone. You’ll never be alone because we’ll all be a village together and I’ll be there, maybe Cutie Pie will be there if she needs a home to go to. Red will be there, hell, we’ll take in Leo. We’re going to run a half-way house of finding ourselves. You and me were put here to help other people. I helped you find Willie, you forced me to work at the pizza place where I met my friend Cutie Pie, and you and I are going to help Willie keep those kids from going to foster homes. We’re going to be a big family, lot’s of love, and our kids will never think they’re alone like you were. Well Mom, you won. You finally ran her off. All I ever had to do for the girl was give her a family to love her and you just wouldn’t let that happen. And here all these years you thought she was after money. Even today you said that I work all the time just so she can go play. You’ve no grasp of the situation. All you had to do was be nice to her. But it’s fine because we’re going to be just fine, me and her. She’s my doll, always will be.”

That’s enough for tonight.

Over Your Cold Shoulder

2009-11-29T21:30:00.000-08:00

I told Willie about the time I was molested by that guy and he gave me a bible with my name spelled wrong on it. Willie cried.

And this is something I've only come to terms with in the past few months, since about the time I read that book Tomato Girl, I've never admitted to this fact before reading that book.

Interestingly enough, though I blogged about it once before, I never told David. I know this because in exchanging how our weekends went, his time with the Cutie Pie and my time with Willie and Leo and the kids and both of our times at the slumber party, among other things I mentioned to David that I introduced Willie to my dad on Friday.

"Have I ever met your dad?" he asked me.

"I took you once. You said 'oh' and went back to the car."

"What did he do?"

"Well...he sat down, the grass was all dead and dry so I was clearing some of the broken pieces from the stone, and I was showing him the pictures on it of the broken tree and the sunrise/sunset and the vandalism, and Willie said 'hey guys what's up' and 'good to meet you.'" --for the record you have to remember that my grandfather is buried there too-- "He told me we'd start coming every week to drink a beer with him or smoke a cigarette or maybe just bring some cool cars since my dad was into them. He talked about doing the same kind of thing when his dad dies."

He asked how my drive to get Leo was. And that's when I told him that Willie cried when I told him why I'm no longer a bible christian. How in the moment that the man explained to me that all is forgiven I realized that it was fucked for any god to ever forgive someone for digging their dirty fingernails into a little girl's crotch.

Willie's christian but he only prays to himself and never goes to church. He's promised his dad that he'll be in heaven and this is why he wears the safety pin, because it's his beacon for his family to find him when they all meet there some day.

Like dad's locks.

Like my lock and him and David's keys.

And David says, "you never told me that you were molested."

He's not upset that I didn't tell him, or that I told Willie first, and I know this because he's saying it right now as I'm typing it. He's more upset that he didn't know.

Part of our problem is communication.

"Are you upset that I confide in Willie for a lot of things?"

*long pause*

"I'm upset that I can't be the one to confide in. I don't know what I've done to make it to where you can't come to me. It just seems like you don't even want to fix it, like I don't even know how to fix it. I've been true to myself, I have, and I feel like I'm getting, you know, your cold shoulder."

"You have to realize that I'm still hurt. Still very fresh. It's always been that I talk to you for 20 minutes straight, pour my heart out, and you just say 'yeah' at the end or just agree with me. What it comes down to is that I obviously don't provide something to you anymore, this is what caused the riff, you know?"

"I think a lot of it is the attention I had...I've lost now."

"I can pinpoint it David, I know exactly when I turned my cold shoulder to you and it's when you admitted to smoking and not telling me when you knew you could have just admitted it. With everything I've been telling you lately, very personal things about my whereabouts and feelings and actions, I just thought it was so bullshit that you'd hide something so incredibly fucking stupid."

"Fucking emotions have been like a fucking roller coaster," he says. "I'm happy, I'm depressed, I'm happy, I'm depressed. I'm happy when we do things together, but then when we talk I get depressed."

Ding.

"You get depressed when we talk?"

"Yeah."

Part of our problem is communication.

"Would you rather not talk?"

"...God damnit." Long pause again. "I just have to be depressed. I'm waiting for you to trust me again, I'm really fucking hurt, I am. And it's my fault. So I'm basically in my own fucking hell, you know it's like I dug a hole and I jumped in and I made it too fucking deep for me to get out, and I don't want to be in the hole anymore but I can't get out."

"I don't know how long it will take for me to trust you."

"I know you love Willie," he says, "but you don't look at me the way you look at him."

"I did. Up until a few weeks ago. I'm not trying to hurt you or punish you--"

"Well it hurts. I fucked it all up, I'm in my own personal hell."

"I'm not trying to put you through hell David, you don't think I'm in my own hell too?"

"What's your hell?"

"A month ago I could look at anyone in their hostile little face and say that you'd never hide a thing from me, that if you went somewhere with that Cutie Pie girl you'd come home and give me every detail even the incriminating ones. That even if you fucked up you'd tell me."

"See? It always comes back to me. I'm a fuck up and I can't do anything to fix this."

"Do you have any ideas as to how you can fix this?"

"No."

Part of our problem is communication.

Current Location Of The Steamboat Willie Blankie: My Bed

2009-11-28T21:08:00.000-08:00

Yes I spent the night at Willie's last night, but it's all because I had to drive his brother Leo back to MoVal at midnight after he and Girly and Red watched Twilight. What can I say? My kids were asleep and I won't turn down an opportunity to snuggle with Willie. He feels awesome.

Leo likes me by the way. He's already prank called me to yell "eat a bowl of poop, bitch" and hung up. That's all right, Steppy does this belching trick--long story short Leo's getting a voice mail in return. The kid is really opening up to me, bowls of poop aside.

Tonight I've got the entire Marlboro clan sans Dad at my house. The kids decorated my Christmas tree and Willie's been hanging lights. There was a pizza party and the Steamboat Willie blanket is waiting patiently for Willie and David and I to go snuggle it. Love that blanket.

Guys, I keep getting told that these people are going to hurt me, that I'm moving too fast with these folks and all that. I held hands with Red the whole way home from dropping off Leo because he said he's just starting to trust me like a sister. Means the world to me.

Maybe I'll get hurt.

Maybe Leo really wants me to eat a bowl of poop.

Maybe I'm just sick of pushing people away.

The Biggest Bestest Gift Of All

2009-11-26T23:41:00.000-08:00

Dad keeps telling us that we're family, over and over and I never seem to get it. And then the other night when he was going on about all of those awful things like dying and me taking care of Willie for him and such he gave me the honor of inviting the four of us to Thanksgiving at Grammy's.

Well it didn't take much to convince me to go. I was promised that I would belong there, Willie promised me this. And Dad, in all of his leather jacket and gold padlocked presence, tickled my gut hard and then went to sit in his chair. Smiling at me his slight little grin he says, "in a dark alley, you would crawl up to me and hold on, and you'd know that nothing'd ever happen to you, and you wouldn't worry about a thing."

Very matter of fact like. And he's right.

So I informed my sister that this year David and I would not be tagging along to her in law's house--though we're welcome, sure--and we would be meeting Dad's mom, Willie's Grammy. Who cooks vegetarian Thanksgiving. Sounded promising in a "this I gotta see" kind of way.

But it was more than food. It was the offer. And it meant something to Dad as well because the olive branch was extended and accepted.

"Some people have got them a family," he explained to Wade as we were getting ready to go. "And some people get adopted by them. Someone don't have a gramma? Well give them a gramma, what's wrong with that?"

When we arrived at the house in the mountains above Banning Dad introduced us to his mother. He said "This is my daughter and her husband. We're real close, and her two little ones call me their Grampie. She's Willie's best friend and I don't know what we'd do without 'em."

Uncles hugged me. Everyone just accepted that we were there, and didn't ask. Willie was so proud to show David--his brew buddy--and me his best friend off to everyone we saw. And we were so overwhelmed with the fact that everyone just saw us as family. Uncle Mitch? I'd probably crawl to him in a dark alley for protection too, and I've only met the guy one other time before this.

The food by the way? Excellent.

And I kind of have this crazy fucking urge to get stoned with one of Willie's cousins but I'm not sure why that is and I wouldn't do that anyway, I just mean that I have the urge. And that's cool.

Willie, my soul mate, gave us something very very important today. For everything we've ever needed it's always been just this. Someone.

The second best part of the night is when Grammy invited us back for Christmas, and said that they do Mexican food.

They don't just invite people like that. Willie says it's because he's never invited anyone over for dinner like this, hell, Dad hasn't either, and he certainly doesn't let just anyone's kids call him their grandpa. Or some woman his daughter.

Dirty neighbor girl.

Always fucking things up.

But the best part of my day, and this brightened my day so much--the kids had been asking Willie when they would meet his grandma since yesterday when he told them. Tonight on the way home I was driving my two kids and Willie in Dad's Jeep, Dad was on the motorcycle, and David was driving Girly and Red, and Ty without prompting says to Willie,

"Thank you so much for letting me come into your family too Willie, it's the biggest bestest gift ever. The more we need people the more we get a family. I love you Willie."

As you guessed, Willie cried.

From the mouths of babes, right?

Well, I had a good time. I felt so welcomed there and I wasn't surprised when my sister told me later that nobody really said anything about me being missing from her in law's house where I usually am on the holidays with noplace else to go.

Now I'll be at Grammy's.

I love Willie so much, and I love his family. I love Dad, I love my kick ass little brother and sister.

And tonight I sat down with David and Willie to have a deep talk. A deep deep talk. Willie has my key and he's coming over to wake us up first thing in the morning.

Maybe more to report on that later.

But happy Thanksgiving to you.