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#hes even worse than men ive literally dated if at any point he startes calling us kittens im unsubscribing to his bubble
what-if-nct · 9 months
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Chris is at it again. And there's so much more before this and in the middle. He is just a Libra man and there is nothing we can do about his Libra man ways. It is flirting, you are flirting Christopher!
*the screenshot was intended to just be sent to my friend but I needed to share this man's delusions and i don't feel like blocking my name or changing the background plus I don't really care*
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alphacenturian4 · 5 years
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Catholics destroying Statues: Hypocrites or Theological Sound Activist                         Or On Christian Freedom, the Liberation from Cultural Taboos, and The Unrightful Judge
                                  By: Ramon Aguilar IV
           So, on Oct 4th, Pope Francis witnessed an indigenous performance at a tree planting ceremony in the Vatican gardens. The presentation was performed by Amazonian people holding hands and dancing in a circle around a wooden statue of a nude pregnant indigenous woman, said to represent the Virgin Mary. Participants sang in honor of the Feast of St. Francis and danced in manner similar to traditional South American Mother Earth festival rites. Pope Francis remained seated in a chair away from the ceremony bored, not amused, and not paying attention throughout most of the performance. The ceremony included bowls that held dirt from different places around the world, representing different ecological issues. The people set up a net on the ground that held pictures of martyrs for Catholicism and Christianity in the Amazon, mostly women and priests who have died to bring the faith to an otherwise polytheistic nature worshiping culture. Most scandalous was what appeared to be an old wise woman, which is coded language for medicine woman or witch, who approached the pope and presented him with a black ring, and seemed to gesture her own blessing. The black ring is a popular symbol in Brazil and Latin America of Liberation Theology, a movement that tried to marry Catholicism to Socialism. A movement many, North American & US, Catholics consider heretical.
The event was organized by outside parties including the Ford Group. The woman referred to the statue as "Our Lady of the Amazon." And the Pope seemed to bless it. The Pope then prayed an Our Father, and skipped his prepared remarks like any good politician would do when he realized a photo op went sideways. Then he left the performance without comment after the tree was planted.
           The bigger scandal is how Catholics then acted following this event, especially American and Canadian based youtubers and twitter users who claim to be Catholic. At first sounding like Savonarola at the Bonfire of the vanities, and then like fundamental Protestants railing against idols in the Church, and then finally like Muslim fundamentalist screaming for their religion, here Catholicism, to be the Prime religion of the world and calling for an end to religious freedom. The reaction made us look worse than the event which was already egg in the face for a church that has been rocked by one too many scandals in recent years, including unforced controversies concerning backlash from Ultra-Traditionist Catholics, people who literally want to bring Latin back into vogue, against Pope Francis whom they see as too liberal.
           Now, after watching the ceremony a few times and doing some research I’ve come to some conclusions. First, the supposed pagan ritual doesn’t seem to be one. I’ve done a fair bit of study on Pagan and Neo-Pagan rite and rituals and that was not one. Though it did seem to be stealing back or appropriating elements of native Amazonian rituals. Which is something the Church does allow, as some tribal African Catholic Churches do have dancing and rhythmic chants as elements in their celebration of Mass. And this is something I am familiar with as a Hispanic and someone of Native American decent. As we allow Mariachis, clapping, and hand holding at Spanish Mass. In fact, this performance looks very reminiscent of folklórico dances that might be performed around a religious theme such as the Virgin Mary whom is very popular among Hispanic and Latin American Catholics. While some might smear this as Folk Catholicism, the Catechism of the Catholic Church does give license for the Church to incorporate the customs of the cultures it assimilates.
           But there is one other aspect to this event that I am leaving out, that is the conspiratorial accusation that these statues were not of the Virgin Mary as Vatican official claim, nor even of a generic non-divine “mother earth” as some liberal apologist defend, but were actual pagan idols of the goddess Pachamama of the Andes Mountains and Incan civilizations; which would be odd but not impossible for Amazonians who have their own pantheon to be worshiping. Let alone self-professed Catholics, including a Franciscan brother, who would know better. And if it was a pagan rite dedicated to Pachamma it was done horrible incorrectly as her religion still exists and videos of her ceremonies can be watched on YouTube dating back to 2011. Her rites use a collection of fallen leaves, sacred fire, and a collection of stones. None of which was part of the performance at the Vatican.  
           Regardless of the legitimacy of the accusation, this led to some supposed Catholics, and two men in particular, to enter the Church of Santa Maria in Traspontina on Oct 21st, and steal the wooden figurines and then throw them into the Tiber River to “destroy’ them. Showing us Catholics to be reactionary, impatient, and petulant; if not simply short sighted to the precedent we are now establishing of it being acceptable for people to enter a Catholic Church and remove items that offend them by the example we are showing to the world who is watching. As the video of this crime (trespassing, theft, and destruction of Church property) has 60,244 views as of this writing.
           But my opinion aside, I decided to see what the bible, and what more specifically St Paul, had to say on this issue. So, I looked at what to me were the most relevant passages. Those being in 1 Corinthians chapter 10, chapter 5, & chapter 6. I have read these epistles many times over the years, and every time I do I find them eye opening, this time was no different as it changed my position and stance on this topic.
To understand this following interpretation of Paul’s writings we must remember that we are interpreting the bible spiritually, allegorically, morally, and analogically. Not strictly literal or historical, but instead metaphysical and theological, and for me personally with a philosophical lens. Now let’s continue.
So, let’s start off by looking at the performance and the gifting of the ring, and let’s say for arguments sake that it was a pagan ritual performed within the Vatican garden. What then?
1 Corinthians 10 verses 6-15 says this: “These things happened as examples for us, so that we might not desire evil things, as they did. And do not become idolaters, as some of them did, as it is written, "The people sat down to eat and drink, and rose up to revel." Let us not indulge in immorality as some of them did, and twenty-three thousand fell within a single day. Let us not test Christ as some of them did, and suffered death by serpents. Do not grumble as some of them did, and suffered death by the destroyer. These things happened to them as an example, and they have been written down as a warning to us, upon whom the end of the ages has come. Therefore, whoever thinks he is standing secure should take care not to fall. No trial has come to you but what is human. God is faithful and will not let you be tried beyond your strength; but with the trial he will also provide a way out, so that you may be able to bear it. Therefore, my beloved, avoid idolatry. I am speaking as to sensible people; judge for yourselves what I am saying.”
These verses serve as a warning that we are not above temptation and that we too can fall if we are unwise and not carful. But it also shows that all worship is sacramental; even false worship. St Paul also confirm the point, that an idol is nothing, as we can see more clearly in the verse that follow.
For then at verses 19-22 the theme continues with: “So, what am I saying? That meat sacrificed to idols is anything? Or that an idol is anything? No, I mean that what they sacrifice, (they sacrifice) to demons, not to God, and I do not want you to become participants with demons. You cannot drink the cup of the Lord and also the cup of demons. You cannot partake of the table of the Lord and of the table of demons. Or are we provoking the Lord to jealous anger? Are we stronger than he?”
This passage makes several strong but quick and glossy statements. It reaffirms that God created everything, thus everything is clean, only sin perverts it. It is only the offending of sensibilities and the confusion it can and does cause that is the problem. For a person can no more change God than move a mountain with our bare hands or change the direction of a hurricane with the wave of a finger. And while we do have rights as humans which were endowed by our Creator these inalienable rights ought not to alienate us from the other. This is a caution against over confidence.
But I will take umbrage with a plan and simple reading here. For then we get to the mystical and metaphysical concept of demons. But I will take a conceit from Saint Augustine and assume that idols being of demons, or a gate way to them, has more to it than just the literal meaning. I think here the word, or threat of, demons seems to be a warning to the bronze age audience against the nondivine realities of sin, that there are temporal corporeal consequences and not just the moral, ethical, or metaphysical consequences we think of and seem to concentrate on as spiritual and religious people. So, the principle Paul sets up here is that you, that is we, must operate in regard to others, we must avoid what might cause scandal and confusion to others who do not know what we know and who do not understand what we understand and instead we ought to prefer what is beneficial and edifying to that which we may find tolerable, enticing, or entertaining. In that way we seek the good and wellbeing of the other person and not just the good of ourselves.
Through this we can acknowledge that idols of any kind are at best neutral representations, at worse a temptation to error for the uninformed, ignorant, unenlightened and fools among us. The strong should consider the weak. For, if idols can provoke God to wrath and passion; how can we mere mortals claim to be immune to their effects or presence. But the problem here becomes what we define as an Idol. As Catholic Churches are full of statues of the Virgin Mary and many other saints and even of art that contains devils, demons, and even Satan (even if they are of those evil spirits being cast out, defeated by our saints and angles). And again, I will steal from St Augustine and other Church fathers. Evil desire is the root of idolatry, not man-made things (that is the work of human hands). For the goal of a good Christian and well catechized Catholic is always to maintain koinonia that is “fellowship” and that fellowship, or unity, is more important than expressing already attained liberty. It also shows that God always provides a way to reject polytheistic rituals. For me, this was done, at the situation we look at today. When the pope said the “Our Father’ instead of his prepared statement.
           But this passage also looks at the other side of the coin on this issue.
For at verses 23-33 we read “"Everything is lawful," but not everything is beneficial. "Everything is lawful," but not everything builds up. No one should seek his own advantage, but that of his neighbor. Eat anything sold in the market, without raising questions on grounds of conscience, for "the earth and its fullness are the Lord's." If an unbeliever invites you and you want to go, eat whatever is placed before you, without raising questions on grounds of conscience. But if someone says to you, "This was offered in sacrifice," do not eat it on account of the one who called attention to it and on account of conscience; I mean not your own conscience, but the other's. For why should my freedom be determined by someone else's conscience? If I partake thankfully, why am I reviled for that over which I give thanks? So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God. Avoid giving offense, whether to Jews or Greeks or the church of God, just as I try to please everyone in every way, not seeking my own benefit but that of the many, that they may be saved. Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.”
Here we get to the nitty gritty of the issue. Liberty is not an end in itself, but a condition that must be maintained against the condition of slavery. St Paul and indeed the Bible itself calls on us to be faithful in difficult times; especially after being liberated from superstition and irrationality. Which for St Paul, superstition and irrationality, are a type of slavery to sin. On the other hand, he also acknowledges that narrowminded scruples are shackles for those who internalize others’ weaknesses, that internalizing of another’s folly is in itself an inclination to the temptation to sin. And here I agree with St Paul whole heartedly, as I think this applies to the situation both during and surrounding the ceremonial performance, its objects, and the gifts given to the Pope by its participants. But some might say that allowing such things is a violation of old testament law and precepts. And I, and St Paul would retort, but there is only one “Law” for Christians, that is Christ, that is the law of Pure True Love.
And here is where the Ultra-Traditionalist and Conservative Catholics get all relied up and call me a liberal. But St. Paul wrote a letter to respond to this inclination for outrage and indignation as well.
In 1 Corinthians 5 at verses 9-13, he writes: “I wrote you in my letter not to associate with immoral people, not at all referring to the immoral of this world or the greedy and robbers or idolaters; for you would then have to leave the world. But I now write to you not to associate with anyone named a brother, if he is immoral, greedy, an idolater, a slanderer, a drunkard, or a robber, not even to eat with such a person. For why should I be judging outsiders? Is it not your business to judge those within? God will judge those outside. [Therefore] "Purge the evil person from your midst."
Here we get the command not sit with the immoral people within the church, that is fellow Christians who are immoral, that does not mean that you must remove yourself from the world that you live in. For: nonbelievers are not expected to be saints; non-Catholics are not expected to live by Catholic Dogma; and non-Christians are not expected to behave as Christians. In fact, Christians have an obligation to reach out, interact with, and be an example of a good person to a nonbeliever.
I would think that it could go without saying that this principle should also apply to the newly converted as they transition from pagan-heathen-polytheism, to Christian-Catholicism, for as that happens and the synthesis that has occurred with all other Christian communities occurs for them, we must tolerate the folk Catholicism that arises at the fringes of conversion as our expands in region or communities that do not understand our sensibilities and when they get it wrong this is our opportunity gently correct and instruct with temperance and patients. This how Christmas gets placed on the 25th of December, the date of the winter a solstice a holiday dating back long before the advent of Christianity, and this is how Halloween gets placed on Samhain.
As someone who likes a Christmas-trees on Christmas, I have no problem that they have their origin tied in with Zeus’s Oak or Thor’s Tree, and I don’t have a problem having All Souls day take on some pre-Christian Gaelic influence and traditions.
           As for the rest, as it relates to pagans, heathen, polytheist, and nonbelievers. It is the baptized Christian who should refrain from the scandalous sins inherent of mortal human nature. Scandal being the key word here. For it is impossible to avoid contact with sinners and thus avoidance of sinners should not be a goal nor should contact with sinners be feared by rightly formed Christians. But instead the goal should be to maintain inner purity within the Christian community. This is a warning against the perception of impiety, from the outside looking in, a warning not to look as if you are condoning sin.
           And it is here that my view on the actions taken by those two Catholics who stole and threw out those figurines changed slightly. While I do not agree with the fanfare and celebration by other Catholics at this action, for that in itself is scandalous and looks unchristian, the act of removing a temptation to sin from within a church, even if you know it is not a temptation for you, when others do not understand its nature and could be scandalized by it, as many many Catholics clearly were. Then yes getting rid of those two images, regardless of rather they were representation of the Virgin Mary that many Catholics found offensive because it went against their sensibilities or if they were actual idols of some mythical and very frictional mother goddess then yes they should have been removed from within the physical Church.
           But, what about the people who participated in the ceremony and performance at the Vatican garden, well St Paul writes in this too. He wrote in 1 Corinthians 6 at verses 7-12
“Now indeed (then) it is, in any case, a failure on your part that you have lawsuits against one another. Why not rather put up with injustice? Why not rather let yourselves be cheated? Instead, you inflict injustice and cheat, and this to brothers. Do you not know that the unjust will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived; neither fornicators nor idolaters nor adulterers nor . . . prostitutes nor practicing homosexuals nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor robbers will inherit the kingdom of God. That is what some of you used to be; but now you have had yourselves [baptized], you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God. "Everything is lawful for me," but not everything is beneficial. "Everything is lawful for me," but I will not let myself be dominated by anything.”
This is a warning that teaches that the love of litigation is the love of greed, while love of persecution is the love of arrogance and self-pride. This teaches that litigation and persecution of a fellow Christian are forms of retaliation not justice. Instead, Christians should possess generosity, mercy, and forgiveness toward the sinner and toward themselves. Turn the other check, after all. For it is faith and grace that saves us from the very worst of our own sins. While, self-persecution and the persecution of fellow Christians is something that St. Paul was indignant against and was loath to do. Better to be wronged or sinned against, than to do the wrong and sin against another.
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aviationfiction · 6 years
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XXXIV
Dante St. James
“Holy shit. It looks amazing in here.”
Stacey’s eyes widened in awe as she slowly walked through the foyer from the door and eventually stopped at the living room. Though the smirk on Mike’s face was one of teasing and slight sarcasm, even he looked on in amazement at the holiday spectacular that my fiancée has morphed my apartment into. She began the process the day after Thanksgiving and spent countless hours between then and the first of December putting every single aspect of it together with whatever minimal help that she needed from me. My only purpose as her handyman was to use my height to her advantage when she didn’t feel like climbing the ladder to reach something. The Balsam Hill website transformed her into a kid in a candy store and she clicked away at whatever was needed to make her fantasy of turning this place into her own version of the perfect holiday imagery and despite my protests, it was all done out of her pocket. The beginning of her efforts started with a fifteen foot pre-lit Aspen Fir tree that perfectly mirrors a living tree without the nature like whiff. I hadn’t noticed how high my ceilings were until that colossal tree was carried in here by eight different delivery men. They’d even given her a free ladder for what would be an exhausting experience in my opinion. Her adrenaline pumper to get it done? Anything Motown Christmas. Rather than the traditional red and green, her vision was silver and gold as Burl Ives sings it. Everything from the ornaments, tree picks, ribbon, and garlands followed that color palette and gave the tree some much needed life. Underneath the tree, she opted for a crimson velvet tree skirt. Over on the entertainment center was illuminated garland and a family of six polar bears. Hanging from their feet were six crimson velvet Christmas stockings with Autumn, Dante, Michael, Fredrick, Stacey, and Kaylee written on their upper flap. I think I fell even more in love with her after seeing that. On the apartment door is a wreath similar to the garland. My place hasn’t experienced the holiday season to this capacity…ever and despite my playful resistance early on, it’s nice to see.
“Yo, you really are married now. I bitched about your house looking worse than the Grinch’s crib for years and yet you still put that bitch ass Charlie Brown Christmas tree on the table. You get a girl, put a ring on her finger, and now it’s looking like Santa’s Workshop threw up in here. What the fuck?” Of course he would start with his complaints about my decorating. I’ve never felt compelled to decorate because I live alone. What is the point of throwing up decorations all over the place for only myself to glance at? Christmas is a family holiday. The mild depression that I’ve always experienced around this time of year would have worsened and I would have likely been finding toxic ways to numb the emotions. So that little tree, that Autumn amusingly threw away, was my acknowledgement of the holiday without going overboard.
“Well, you know what the power of the P will do.” Stacey’s vulgar statement earned a quick side eye from me as Mike erupted into more chuckling than necessary.
“Anyway, what’s bring y'all by?”
“Where’s the wife to be?” She hadn’t even given me the proper greeting and here she is already asking for Autumn.
“She’s not here. Why?”
“I’ve come with venue options for the engagement party.” Engagement party? Neither Autumn or myself have discussed anything wedding related with anyone in particular and after the speculative bullshit that Richard has fed to the media, and I’m not quite sure we will be. We’re caught in this weird space of her wanting me to make amends with my relatives so that they’ll be able to be apart of all of the wedding festivities and anything else we intend to do with our lives after it and yet, the behavior of my paternal parent has irritated her and left her conflicted on whether any of that is a good idea or not. Then there’s me, who couldn’t care less about their presence. So, an engagement party? I can already foreshadow the disagreements that will happen when mapping out a guest list. The thought of it sounds nice, but executing it? Even God will have a migraine.
“That’s really why you’re here?”
“That’s not the only reason why. We were out holiday shopping. Mike’s my designated driver since the husband has my car and I refuse to drive that monstrosity that he calls an SUV. We decided to drop by after lunch. I bought you pasta from the Cheesecake Factory.” She held up the bag in the midst of her stride to my kitchen and I glanced over at Mike, who playfully rolled his eyes.
“I’ve been her designated driver since eight this morning. I’m tried as hell.”
“Oh shut up. It’s only noon. You’re getting practice for whenever your too cool for school ass finally settles down with one of those young short skirt wearing legal secretaries around your office.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I dealt with a paralegal or two and y’all are turning it into me being a serial dater of people who work around me. I would never give myself that type of headache. You’re giving me flack and Dante’s literally marrying his corporate flight attendant. He mixed the shit out of business and pleasure.” Though I didn’t want to laugh to give him the satisfaction of getting that joke off, I couldn’t help it. While there is no comparison because he’s falsifying that one or two estimation, the mixing business with pleasure part is funny. I suppose I did, but it’s a regret that I don’t have.
“So how is everything after that bullshit that Richard pulled last week? I know we spoke briefly about it but you didn’t give me enough detail.”
“I don’t know, honestly. I know that I’m pissed off but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of retaliation. As far as Autumn, she’s indifferent about it. She’s been extremely busy with that holiday party, so she’s been in Jersey a lot since then. She dropped by here yesterday evening because she was already in Manhattan and she made dinner. We talked about it some more and she seemed to be alright. Per usual, she was far more concerned with what I’m feeling rather than her own emotions. She went to bed around nine. She’s been tired all this week.”
“Pregnant?” My hands halted from the task of untying the bag and both of my eyebrows instantly raised at such a random question. Mike’s curious posture worsened the odd tension that suddenly arose in the room as he idly leaned against the counter and mischievously smirked while awaiting an answer.
“I just told you that she’s working crazy hours on a Christmas party and pregnancy is what you make of that? It doesn’t make sense Stace.”
“But lets just say that she is pregnant. What would you do?” Yet again, Mike and I made eye contact and he was seemingly far more curious about whatever my answer may be more so than Stacey and I’d be a fool if I stood here pretending to be clueless as to why. Though it is her who brought it up this time, he’s tossed it at me as a hypothetical more than once in the midst of a number of our conversations and though I wouldn’t say that he did it to inflict fear within me, it happened either way. I don’t fear starting a family with Autumn. I fear not being capable of protecting her through nine months of a vulnerable state and then the life we created together after the fact.
“I would do what I’m supposed to do; take care of her and prepare to be a father. Did you assume that I would do something else?”
“Of course not. That’s not who you are. That question is more so for how things are right now. I know you’d rather not have a baby here, right?”
“In New York? Location has nothing to do with anything.”
“Word. People make places ugly. It never has anything to do with location.” I nodded in agreement with Mike’s follow up and pulled the plastic container out of the bag.
“I would love to be settled in California when we conceive a child. That’s the goal. If life throws some sort of a curve ball and it happens before then, then we’ll be fine. More than anything for me, I’d prefer we be settled and not have to worried about getting there in the midst of preparing to have a baby and Autumn’s in a place of wanting to make sure she has certain things together on her end before she can focus on motherhood.”
“That’s understandable. Is a wedding going to happen before the move and everything that Autumn wants to do?”
“If I could, I’d marry her tomorrow. We have a date for next year that we discussed, but the problem is the outside factors. For as long as you two and Fredrick are at the wedding and maybe Camille, I couldn’t give two shits about anyone else who attends for the sake of me. She can invite her entire family, all of her friends, and anyone else she feels compelled to have there. All I need is the four of you and I’m straight. She’s not okay with that. She’s pushing for me to at least make some kind of a reconciliation with my mother and I can’t force that no matter how hard I try. I’d love to do that for her, but that’s the thing. She doesn’t want me to do it for her because it wouldn’t be genuine. She’s insists that I need to do it for myself.”
“Because despite what you all are going through, you only get one set of parents. Don’t get me wrong, your parents are fucked up. I’ll never deny that because it would be a slap in your face. Richard is who he is and that who he’s going to be until his body is lifeless and cold. As for your mother, I think there’s potential there. She loves you. She’s had a screwed up way of showing it in the midst of dealing with the whirlwind of bullshit that she caused within her own life, but the love is there. I think she’s witnessed that and believes bridging that gap may be good for you. I don’t think it’ll hurt.” Of course he’d agree with her. They’re all extremely family driven and despite all of the good they’ve done while being apart of my life, none of them will ever be able to fill certain voids. It’s unrealistic to put that kind of pressure on any of them, including Autumn. I may not say it or show it, but I love my mother. I’m not sure if it’s because I feel obligated to out of honor for her birthing me or if it’s naturally emotionally driven, but the love is there. More than any apology, I at least deserve some acknowledgement of the manner in which I was dismissed. It’s the only sensible method to move forward because I can’t play catch up with a woman who deliberately missed out on so much of my life when she didn’t have to. I wasn’t shipped off to the next of kin because we were financially struggling. She wasn’t some drug addict or alcoholic mother who was so caught up in her addictions that they overshadowed my presence. I wasn’t a misfit kid who would rather be running the streets and looking for every possible troublesome outcome to avoid living a structured life at home. Selfishness was the driving force behind every decision that she made and she doesn’t deserve to breeze on by without admitting to it all because she suddenly sees me.
“Maybe some day it’ll happen. I don’t….”
I paused mid sentence at the sound of the door opening and though it wasn’t the typical sound of heels, I could hear Autumn’s feet dragging against the flooring.
“Yo.”
“Yo.” As she called back out to me, she inched closer to the kitchen and finally appeared in the doorway for all to see. The usual glamour that she exudes was scaled down to a grey Ralph Lauren sweatsuit, a Moncler coat, hat, and scarf, and surprisingly a pair of blue Ugg boots that left me beyond amused. I never thought I’d see her in a pair of those clunky boots in my lifetime and yet here she is proudly in a pair and bundled up against the thirty degree weather outside. Even in the comfort wear, she looked stunning and yet adorable in the midst of it. The only make up on her face was lip gloss and that took about ten years off of her actual age.
“Esmeralda. What’s up?”
“Hey Mike. What’s up Stacey?”
“Hey gorgeous. How are you?”
“Tired.” She made her way to them one by one for the hugs that they were awaiting and I was left with her pressing her lips into my own for a longing kiss. After that, I was fine with her lack of a verbal greeting for me.
“I’m starving.”
“You want this pasta? I can just eat the leftovers from what you made last night. That’s what I was planning to do anyway.” As she opened the fridge, her eyes panned in the direction of the plastic container I was pointing at.
“Are you sure? I can just eat one of these greek yogurts and call it a day honestly.” I quickly nodded my head to her question. “Besides, I have to grab my shoes and head back to Jersey. I left my pumps over here last week and I need them for tonight.”
“Yeah. Come and eat this. What time do you need to be back at the venue tonight?” Rather than giving her the plastic fork that was already in the bag, I grabbed a silver one out of the drawer.
“Well, cocktail hour starts at seven, so I figure that I’ll be back by six. I made sure I crossed every T and dotted every I before I walked out of there this morning. I refuse to have to return this afternoon and be scrambling. I don’t even have the energy for that. I already have a headache from this morning.”
“I have some wings in here. I only ate like two of them. You can have those too.” Her eyes immediately lit up at Mike’s offering.
“It’s only noon. So, why don’t you eat the food and take a nap? You can sleep until like three. You have the car, so you can drive into Jersey as soon as you wake up and get ready from there. I think you can make it back in time by six.”
“No, it’s alright. I’ll just eat the pasta and I’ll head back in a few.”
“You need some sleep. Take the nap. I’ll be up, so I will make sure you’re up in time to make it back to Jersey. Why don’t you go to the room, take your stuff off, and lay down now. I’ll warm this up and bring it to you. What do you want to drink?”
“Water is fine.” As she turned to walk away, a part of me was surprised that she didn’t put up one of her stubborn protests. Maybe she’s just that damn tired. She claims that after this party, she has nothing else that is physically or mentally draining to do and I’m holding her to that. She’s been starting her mornings early and ending her nights later than normal because of it.
“You’re such a good husband.” Mike’s tease came with my middle finger instantly being pointed up, while Stacey snickered at yet another moment that they were able to goad me about. It’s never going to end. They’ve been anticipating the day when I’d fall in love because it seemed like hell freezing over was more of a sure thing for a long time. Despite the jokes, I know it all comes from them being proud.
“Since we’re on the husband topic, back to the engagement party. Seriously, I’m thinking it should be at The Rainbow Room or in Brooklyn at The William Vale. Maybe Gotham Hall?” I’ve been to different events at all of those venues she mentioned and the only thing that came to mind was the magnitude in size. Those are venues you book when you’re planning to have five hundred or more guests showing up to whatever you’re celebrating.
“It’s an engagement party. How many people do you think we’re inviting?” As I placed the container into the microwave and put the timer on two minutes, she loudly huffed with a shrug of her shoulders.
“Maybe two to two hundred and fifty.”
“Hell no.” Both Mike and I responded in unison. He knew that I wouldn’t get on board with that no matter how many times she batted her eyes and lightened her tone. That would be a social nightmare.
“Come on. You can’t just leave out everyone at the company. There are so many people there who love and admire you Dante. Be fair.”
“And they’d be there to fill seats and for the free food and drinks. They admire the work I do, not the man that I am. They don’t know me and I’d prefer to keep it that way. There are a few that I wouldn’t mind being there, but two hundred and fifty people? That’s going too far for an engagement party. If anything, it should be a nice dinner somewhere with no more than twenty or thirty people.”
“Twenty or thirty? Are you kidding me?”
“You think he’s kidding?”
“Dante, seriously?”
“Seriously. Find a dinner party venue and then run those options by me.”
“If that’s the case, we can just do it at Baraya. You all have one of the most beautiful restaurants in the city.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. We can get a decorator to do a couple of floral arrangements for some tables. Everything else we can do on our own. Cheap and yet effective.” Mike’s frugal idea instantly made me laugh. He can be somewhat of a Bargain Betty when he wants to be. The man makes over six figures a year and yet for the most part, he does his best to live a simple life. I always joke with Fredrick that Mike may be the wealthiest one out of all of us because he’s not really the splurging type unless the moment calls for it or for his mother. Fredrick’s flashy. Me? I’d like to think I’m moderate but for my baby? I’d break the bank on whatever.
“Nah, we’d have to turn Bayara into some sort of a vision. We’re going to need way more than just a couple of floral arrangements. I like the idea though. We’ll see what happens.”
“We’ll see what happens? We need to lock down these details soon.”
“We have time.” As soon as the microwave stopped, I removed the container and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. My short jog to the bedroom was met with Autumn carefully placing her coat down on the ottoman in the closet.
“You want the TV on?”
“No.” As I placed everything on the nightstand, she walked out of the closet and plopped down on the bed. My next move was to remove her Ugg boots and place them at the foot of the bed.
“Did you find your shoes?”
“Yeah, I put them in my bag. Thank you.” It didn’t long for her to dig into the pasta. I doubt she’ll finish all of it but more than half should be doable. It’ll probably be all that she has on her stomach for the rest of the night since she decided to work at the party rather than simply attending it.
“Am I going to see you tonight?”
“What do you mean?”
“Am I going to see you or am I going to only catch glimpses of you from around the room out of the corners of my eyes? I was thinking maybe we can have a drink together or something. Maybe have a dance or two? I know you’re going to be working and it’ll be a lot, but squeeze me in if you can. I’m not asking you to make any promises. It’s just awkward for us to be in the same room with one another with little to no interaction despite it being a work night for you.” There’s a part of me that believes she’s going to keep her distance because of the New York Post article and the extended coverage on the internet which has put us in an awkward space publicly. We’ve gone from living in this world where it’s just she and I with a chosen few who are aware of what we share to millions of people speculating and making the most absurd assumptions. There’s this weird presumption that she and I are some sort of fling. In the pictures, her hands are resting in her lap and in the one shot when we’re standing, her arm was extended behind my back so there were no glimpses of the ring. Despite that, why would I take a fling to an event of that magnitude? I know that’s the narrative Richard is trying to convince himself of so that I’ll remain under his wing and the driving force behind the company. Now he’s pushing it beyond that narrow-minded mind of his. Tonight, I’m pushing back.
“We’ll have a drink tonight. I’m sure at some point, I’ll take a break.”
“Alright.”
“Thank you for the pasta.”
“It’s no problem. Enjoy it.”
I left her to the privacy she needed and closed the door behind myself so that whatever noise coming from the kitchen didn’t disturb the nap that I’m not even sure she’s going to take. Often time, her stubborn nature holds strong, even in opposition against what she needs. More than anything, I’d rather she be well rested for the task that’s head of her tonight. Though I don’t know what the holiday party will consist of aside from the basics, I trust that her family has a lot more class than my own. I don’t expect any ridiculous speeches from neither Isaac or Silas about the family and if they do give a word or two, at least whatever statements are said will have mindfulness and a genuine tone behind them. I doubt Lillian will hound either one of us about wedding plans that are yet to be because she has absolutely nothing else to speak about. Most of all, I’ll be able to let my guard down. I don’t have to worry about being on alert to verbally or physically rip someone apart for even the slightest bit of disrespect towards me and most of all, towards her.
“Yo, you got some cuff links that I can borrow? Let me get the ones with the blue gems in them. I don’t know where I put my favorite pair and the next favorite pair that I have belong to you.”
But I will have to deal with Mike’s antics. I suppose that should be the easy part.
"So word has been traveling around about my potential move to L.A. and I’ve gotten a couple of phone calls. Manatt, Phelps, & Phillips called, I have a couple of e-mails from Greenberg Traurig, and Ziffern Brittenham reached out too.
“These are all tier one firms?” Once I was finally able to switch lanes, I turned off my blinker and slightly turned down Outkast’s Aquemini album. The traffic on I-95 S in Jersey had finally picked up in pace. While Autumn was asleep, I’d already called Marv to come and drive her home so that she wouldn’t have to drive while sleepy. I wish I hadn’t of woken her up from that nap because she couldn’t mask her grumpiness no matter how hard she tried to. Even the kiss she gave me as she walked out of the door was half assed and I could do nothing other than chuckle.
“Yeah. I believe so. I just don’t think I’m interesting in partnering with another firm whether they’re giving me name partner upon hiring or not. It’s a lot of politics that goes into that shit, especially when you’re walking in the door with perks that internal lawyers are busting their ass for. They immediately walk around with this chip on their shoulders while looking at you like you’re this designer suit wearing fuck boy who stepped on all of their toes to get a position that they deserve. I don’t care what anyone has to say but at the same time, I’m in a place where I feel like I don’t need to pet people in order to cease tension within a firm and I’m not playing a game of who can bust one another’s balls the best when it comes to power and rank amongst partners. I’m not even being cocky when I say that I’ve had far too much success to concern myself with that.”
“That’s why it’s time to branch out on your own and start your own firm. You’ve outgrown what’s being offered to you. You have enough clout and pull to snatch up a couple of hot shots from well known firms around this country, but I also know that we’re alike when it comes to giving people to chance to grow, show, and prove themselves to be the greatness that the future needs so I know your interns and first year selections will be good and just as great.”
“That's probably the most important part to me brother.”
“That’s how it should be.”
Autumn chose The Palace at Somerset Park as the venue for tonight’s festivies. Initially, she had ten different places in mind and I remember the headache she’d given herself over the course of a couple of days to narrow it down to the best three. After a numbers game, she eventually settled on the forty thousand dollar price tag simply to book The Palace. All of the extra perks that she added in there continued to raise the price by the thousands and I’m not even sure what was spent on the decorating team she hired to execute her Winter Wonderland theme. Despite her nonchalance about it, between everything she did for Heather’s wedding and now this party, I was exposed to yet another talent of hers that she doesn’t even recognize. I don’t believe I’ve come across another woman who can successfully dip her hands into many jars like Autumn can. I’m always in awe of her.
“So, that gentlemen in a blonde wig on BET ran with an escort story today. You want me to send out a statement or two? Maybe a couple of threats of legal action for defamation of character?”
“If you do that, it would just be me feeding into his bullshit and showing him that I’m uncomfortable.”
“But aren’t you? How is Autumn reacting to all of this?”
“We had a back and forth about it when we woke up to it initially and that was it. As I said earlier today, she’s been consumed with this party so I haven’t been able to observe her reactions or to pick her brain about most of it. I’m fucking frustrated because this route he’s resorting to is low as fuck. It’s a divide and conquer through she and I. He’s going to keep applying pressure for her to crack more so than myself. He’s well aware that I’m not going to abandon my relationship and the future I want on the behalf of anyone, let alone a family that I already struggle with claiming as my own, so he’s targeting her. He’s assuming it’s but so many attacks that she and her family will be able to take. It’ll feel just as repetitive as the media nightmare that was her relationship with that coach.” A hint of chills trickled up my arms at the reality of the comparison. The last thing I need is her folks viewing me as a toxic presence in her life. They may not have been able to access Andreas enough to get him out of the picture before everything went to shit, but they’ll never allow something like that to happen again. Hell, just Lillian’s protective nature alone lets me know that she’ll take me down in any way possible whether it’s my fault or not.
“Look, you know better than I do, that there’s a lot of underhanded shit going on, so you need to get the hell out of there. At this point, you’ve involved someone else in this. With marriage comes a vow of protection. No matter what you have me doing, you better be able to hold up your end of that.”
“I’m handling it.”
“The more I dig and ask questions, the more I’m realizing that eventually, I’m going to run into something that’s going to be explosive. I feel you’re trying to figure out which wire to clip to prevent a ticking time bomb from detonating and I’m trying to do everything that I can to influence you to say fuck it, get away from it, and let it explode however it does. You’ve saved them from far more than they’ve ever deserved. You’ve put that company on your back and have catapulted them to new heights year after year. What do you get in return aside from revenue and acclaim from Bloomberg, The Wall Street Journal, or some other business insider platform? If you’re finally putting your mental health first, then walk away immediately man. I’m telling your this as your brother and as someone who has looked into more enough for you to know that this shit isn’t going to end well.”
"It’s on my mind every time I walk into that building. There are a couple of situations that I need to handle before I can began to withdraw from everything. There are trusted clients, open contracts, and a large number of relationships that I’ve built over the years that I have to accommodate and still do want to maintain even with a departure. It’s about respect more than anything else.”
“I know.”
“So that information that I sent you about the Malibu house. What is that looking like?” We glanced at one another and he took a minute to gather his thoughts about yet another request I’d given him.
“Let me keep working on that.”
I left it at that. I know him well enough to understand that if he’s still working on something, it’s going to happen whether it’s soon or with some time. If it were impossible, he would have told me already. Time isn’t something that is to be wasted, especially right now.
It seems to be of the essence more than ever.
Upon entry to the venue, it immediately felt like we stepped into a party straight out of the North Pole or somewhere deep within the arctic circle. We were surrounded by a sea of white draping from the high ceilings down to the high gloss marble flooring. Christmas trees layered every space that made sense while flocking and sparking white lights breathed an enticing life into the place. The snow machines and the LED lighting were the enhancements that took the ambiance from fun to extravagant.
“If Autumn did all of this, I can only pity your pockets when it comes time to plan the wedding. Look at that.” My eyes panned in the direction of his finger and landed on a towering LED wall with rotating images of snow in the forest, moonlight, and laser designs. It damn near made you feel like you were outdoors. An ensemble of twelve women danced us through the doors while about a twenty to twenty-five piece band played the most famous holiday tunes that we all know and sing along to for our pleasures. The line up of microphones on the stage are a sign that there’s a performance coming. Mike's right about the money that was poured into this. She definitely went into this without a care or concern about a budget but it looks damn good and with the way the champagne, wine, and spiked egg nog are floating around, this is sure to be a night to remember or…drunkenly forget. Either way, she worked damn hard to make it a fun night for all and one that will leave Isaac with acclaim and praise.
“She did an excellent job.”
As I pulled out the ghost chair to take my seat, my eyes met those of Lillian and she immediately smiled and raised her hand up to wave at me. As I responded with a wave of my own, I noticed she was making her way over and pushed the chair back in to remain standing out of respect for her presence.
“Dante. How are you? Give me a hug.” The hug was as endearing as it is when she wraps her arms around her own children and she planted a soft kiss on my forehead. She then reached for Mike.
“Why are you two sitting over here? You have a placement card at the family table.” I didn’t even think about seating arrangements when I approached this empty table. This isn’t what you would call a corporate gala or a dinner party so, a seating arrangement isn’t really key to making or breaking this evening.
“I didn’t know.”
“Well yes, come over. We’re sitting right up there.”
With all of the baseless nonsense circulating about the two of us in the rumor mill, I was sure that there would at least be one or two awkward moments between her loved ones and I, but my thoughts jumped the gun quite a bit. Instead, I was welcomed with open arms as they showered me with physical and verbal affection and carried on dialogue as if I’d been a member of the family my entire life. It seemed like the more sips of red wine Silas took, the more he elaborated on holiday memories they’ve shared over the years. Despite the bittersweet emotions swirling within everyone with every word that he spoke, we shared laughter over stories like Shane and Autumn’s failed attempts at making a snowman, Isaac needing stitches after a failed sledding prank between the siblings led to him falling off and hurting himself, and Autumn bailing on a Christmas recital in the middle of the show.
As for my lady? She never joined the table, not that I expected her to. Instead, I was left with glimpses of her beauty out of the corners of my eyes as she zipped around the room to greet and properly accommodate just about everyone who walked through those double doors. Whether it was the way her long midnight black tresses swayed with the subtle and yet natural switch in her stride or the way the lightning around the room illuminated her alluring green eyes, she captivated just about every being filled with testosterone and they lustfully ogled over her like wolves hunting prey no matter where she moved. A black pencil dress is hugging every curve her body has to offer and its length stopped mid-thigh to display her impeccable legs, which were further accentuated by her Louboutin covered feet. Instinctively, while my ears tuned in and out of the conversation happening around me, my eyes followed her as much as they were able to as she maneuvered around with a graceful smile on her face and a clipboard that I assume is filled with names and the itinerary for the evening. There seemed to be this transition from a glare of lust to one of pride as I constantly caught glimpses of her engagement ring glimmering on her left hand ring finger.
“Why don’t you just go over here instead of sitting here and torturing yourself by staring at her so hard.” I looked on as she showered Heather with a more than normal amount of love. There was a mutual excitement between the two of them that I couldn’t quite pinpoint, but the repeated motion of Autumn brushing her hand against her best friend’s stomach gave me somewhat of a hint. A glow illuminated from the both of them as they giggling all throughout whatever small conversation they were having and both walked towards the bar hand in hand to continue their banter.
“I’m about to head over there. You want a drink from the bar?”
“You know my preference. Appreciate it brother.”
By the time I stood and began to make my way through a crowd of people heading towards the dance floor, I’d lost track of Autumn once again. I’ve yet to witness a moment when she’s sat down and yet she’s continuing to trek around this place in those extremely high heels like a butterfly waltzing in the air.
“What can I get for you handsome?” My back straightened as the young bartender trailed her eyes over my chest and eventually stopped at my lips, which then evoked her to run her tongue over her own set. The tips of her fingers grazed the skin of the top of my hand and the smirk that slowly grew on her face easily matched the intense glare radiating from her eyes. Within seconds, my hands found their way into my pockets.
“Remy Martin XO if you have it.”
“Remy? That’s an interesting choice. Rich, velvety, and lingering. It goes down smooth and tends to creep up on you sometime throughout the night and next thing you know, you’re doing the unexpected. I’ve seen it happen to many people over the years.” The unexpected? My snicker was low but she didn’t miss it. She refused to miss anything, including every breath that I’m taking. She’d yet to take a step in the direction of the alcohol to seek what I requested.
“Really? Well, thankfully, it’s not for me.”
“It’s not?” Her weirdly drawn on brows went up in wonder while she pondered on where to go next with this one sided conversation.
“No.”
“Well, what can I get for you?”
“Remy Martin XO.” An additional glance toward her face allowed me to recognize her from Meridian. She’s the receptionist who always makes it her business to thoroughly explain the same exact details about servicing to me in a snail paced manner while leaning over the desk to be as close to my face as possible. If I counted out the number of women from both companies who have attempted their hand at getting to know me beyond seeing me walk in and out of the doors, I’d sound pompous and be labeled an asshole. Despite my lack of interest, I know they’ve been a playground for Matthew and the thought of dipping into anything or anyone behind him agitates me. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve had a taste of his father too.
“I’ll get that for you.” Rather than fixing the potent beverage at the back counter, she grabbed the bottle of it along with a glass, and she returned to the exact position she’d been in; on the opposite side of me with the bar’s counter serving as a barrier between our bodies.
“You enjoying yourself tonight?”
“Sure.” I shrugged. I am enjoying myself. It’s a great party. Based upon what Isaac mentioned, Boyz II Men are going to walk out on that stage within a couple of minutes and give us a full performance of Christmas hits to make it even better. Based upon the way they were ogling over Autumn in Vegas, I wouldn’t be surprised if they did the performance for free.
“I’ve always noticed you at the holiday parties but you always tend to tuck yourself into a corner somewhere and that’s where you stay. You never hit the dance floor. I see you’re at the Dupont table tonight, but you’ve still yet to hit the dance floor. You can’t be enjoying it that much.” She poured enough of the cognac in the glass to make it a double and slid it in my direction. Intentionally, her knuckles lightly grazed my own.
“Interesting observation. Maybe I’ll hit the dance floor at the next one.”
“You could always save a dance for me tonight.”
“Or me. How about you save a dance for me? I am like your sister after all.” Both our heads snapped in the direction of Heather’s tense voice. If looks could kill, the bartender would have been dead in an instant. Heather’s smirk was sinister. The more she leaned towards the bar, the further the woman on the opposite side of it leaned away from it.
“Of course I can save a dance for you. What’s up Heather?” I immediately threw am arm over her shoulder and drew her in so that we could share a hug and most of all, so she’d stop looking like she was a second away from lunging over the bar and attacking a woman who couldn’t keep my attention even while speaking to me.
“Nothing much. How are you?”
“All is well over here. How are you?”
“I’m alright. Happy to be back home. Miami is nice and I enjoy it, but I can’t front like I don’t love when I get time to come up here to the good ol’ cold and enjoy time with my families.” Most people tend to want to run away and stay away from the cold. She’s one of the first people I’ve heard who craves to feel it after having moved to a warmer climate.
“You’re spending the holiday up here?”
“Yes we lucked out. They’re playing the Knicks the day before Christmas Eve and they have no Christmas Day game. So, once he flies up here for the game, we get to stick around. Thank God. Despite my mental battle with having my folks fly down to me, I wanted to come up here because my Dupont family is here. I love them just as much as my own.”
“That’s what’s up. I’m sure Autumn is thrilled. She misses having you up here.”
“I know. I miss her just as much. That’s my right hand and sometimes I need a bit more than phone calls or FaceTime sessions sometimes. We were once inseparable but you know, the whole marriage to that piece of shit stopped that, and now I feel like we’re really working towards being like that again but with moderation of course. Back when we were in college, she transferred to UCLA to be with me. Mind you, this was after I considered transferring into NYU to be with her. I couldn’t take much more of those valley white girls. When she got married, we did hang out in Miami a lot. I’d fly down there to be with her often. I know she’d do the same for me now, but she has her own life and I’m thrilled for her. She has you. You stole my girl, but I’m okay with that.” With a nudge to my arm, she looked up at me with a smile as we stood along side one another observing the atmosphere. For the third time tonight, there was Mark Patelli standing directly in Autumn’s pathway while obnoxiously leering at her and finding unnecessary commentary to speak with her about. Every few seconds, his tongue would graze his barely there bottom lip while his eyes trailed over her entire frame. I get it. Autumn is the embodiment of everything that sex appeal is and is supposed to exude. She’s a prowess at entering a room and stealing the show without ever trying to do so. Heads turn with every move that she makes. Her smirk makes your heart jump and then the small smile that follows eventually causes it to melt. Her eyes. Shit. They’re enhancing and yet there’s this mysteriousness within them that immediately draws you into whatever part of her world she’s going to allow you into. She’s an enigma and yet like a Rubik’s cube, you cannot stop working to win her over in some kind of a way. In his case, it’s simply to be in her presence. As far the other hundred or more men in the room, it’s to get her to approach their table or maybe for a dance. Despite my understanding this, it doesn’t cease my thoughts to beat the shit out of every single one of them for staring at what’s mine in the same manner that I do. Mark is at the top of the list.
“Easy Tiger. She wants no one other than you. Mark never had a chance before you and he never will.” As if I were a once tamed animal now ready to pounce, Heather patted my back to soothe my thoughts.
“You know, she’s yet to say anything to me tonight.”
“I know. There’s a part of her that’s uncomfortable. I’m married to a NBA guy but Mario isn’t what people would call a hot shot or a star player. He’s not Lebron or Dwayne Wade. He’s no Kobe, Chris Paul, Stephen Curry, or any of those guys. He’s more of a role player and it works for him. TMZ isn’t hunting down information about him or whatever he and I have going on. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a chick or two try to come at me over him on social media but even that wasn’t blown up enough to get any coverage. Autumn on the other hand has gone from being painted as the “wild young girl” at UCLA who was fucking the head coach of the basketball team, to being the college dropout NBA wife “chasing the fast life”, to being the tossed away naive woman who “didn’t know any better and allowed a man to shit on her”, and now she’s the “gold digger rebounding with a hot shot business man”. Put yourself into her shoes and think about how you’d feel about that. She’s voiceless in this situation and she feels like it, because ultimately, what can she say or do? Yeah, people talk and it is what it is, but she doesn’t live her life in a manner for people to speak about her. She’s not clout chasing or seeking fame.” I couldn’t deny her point. I’m just as unnerved as she is about all of it and it’s not because we’re being spoken about because I couldn’t care less. It’s the context. The last thing I want her to feel is attacked and cornered but I know it’s what she’s dealing with mentally, though she won’t express it to me through conversation. I’ve sensed it in her distance from the topic at hand whenever we speak to one another and in her sudden choice to spend more nights in Jersey rather than at my apartment.
“I know. It does fuck with me that she feels that way but more than anything, she shouldn’t bottle it up. Once she’s inside of that head of hers, this happens. There’s she and I, and then this weird ass wall in-between us.”
“Break it down. That’s Autumn. She’s been that way ever since I’ve known her. The wall is her comfort zone. Shane would invade her comfort zones all the time and it’s why she learned so much from him. I do it to her when I have to. More than anything else, show her that it's you and her beyond whatever noise is surrounding you.”
“I hear you.”
“I was just talking about this with Autumn, but I figure I need to let you know this too. Autumn and I talked about our kids growing up together in the same manner that we did, so I’m going to need you to get on it. You need to hurry up and shoot up the club a couple of times, so that we won’t be that far apart.” Laugher instantly spilled out of me in response to the manner she chose to reveal her pregnancy in. Autumn did tell me about those type of conversations that we’ve had but to hear it from Heather is hilarious.
“Congratulations Heather.” Once again, we shared a tight hug and she poked my side as I released her.
“I meant what I said though. Get started on the babies. You two are going to be the coolest aunt and uncle slash godparents ever, but I want to be the thing. I want my chance.”
“I think we may miss this go round and we’ll have to catch up with you when you have your second baby. I can make a deal with you there. I can’t wait to have kids, but we have a lot going on and we still have a wedding to plan. Give us some time to get all of that handled and I have high hopes the babies will come soon after.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
“I got you.”
“And remember what I said. The love between you two is real. Don’t allow anyone or anything to get in-between that, especially some outside noise that doesn’t even matter. If anything, show them differently. Leave them with egg on their faces. You know I have y’all backs. I won’t hesitate to pop off on anyone or slap a bitch, like a bartender who doesn’t know her boundaries.” As she glanced back to seek her new found enemy, I nudged her shoulder.
“I know you do and we have your back just as much. There’s no need to slap anyone. You know who my mind is on and where I want to be no matter what.”
“Thank you for loving my friend.”
“If anything, I should be thankful that your friend loves me.”
As Boyz II Men took the stage, I return to the table and handed Mike his drink and was off to find Autumn. On my hunt, I grabbed two glasses of champagne off of a servers tray as he passed by and panned my eyes over the crowds of people until I spotted her standing near the entrance speaking with someone unfamiliar to me. My feet moved as swiftly as possible without me looking like a mad man so that I could reach her before she trekked to the other side of the room or somewhere within this vicinity and out of my view.
“Hello beautiful.” Maybe I should have waited until their conversation was over or maybe I should have properly interjected whatever they were saying to receive her attention, but I couldn’t help myself and didn’t care.
“Hi.” A gleam filled her eyes as she panned over my attire and I extended my arm to offer her the champagne flute. My attire for the evening had all been her choice. I assume she’s pleased with her work.
“That drink that we spoke about earlier.”
“Thank you.” Once it was in her hand, that allowed me to wrap an arm around her waist. “If you’ll excuse me Dr. Patel.”
Within seconds of us turning to walk away, that very drink I’d handed her went down her throat within one swallow and a flustered expression washed over her face as I looked on awaiting some type of interaction from her. Without knowing it initially, it seems like I stepped in with perfect timing to distract her from whatever was being said and yet I’m beyond curious about all of it because her reaction isn’t what I was expecting.
“My hand has been fucking with me tonight. Maybe it’s because I’m beyond tired.” As she lifted it within eyes view, I could see the tremor that typically makes itself noticeable whenever she’s dealing with stress or exhaustion. Often times, she’ll squeeze a stress ball for strength and training. “Dr. Patel noticed of course and she immediately jumped into that conversation we’ve had over and over again about allowing her surgeon friend to fix this issue with what she says is a simple operation. She’s not even my damn doctor, she’s my mother’s friend. Oh and then there’s that part that maybe, just maybe I’ll be able to return to school to go after my medical school dreams again but she certainly made it clear that I’d only be able to be a psychiatrist, dermatologist, or some kind of a general practitioner because I wouldn’t be able to do anything surgical since I have a fucked up hand.”
“Baby, you can do whatever the hell you want to do. Some stupid ass doctor’s opinion doesn’t change that.” If we weren’t at a party, I’d have no issue with approaching that short and stumpy doctor to repeat that same message to her. Everything that she’s faced hasn’t stopped her greatness from shining through despite her reluctance and insecurities. Despite everything, Autumn continues to prove that she’s destined for a greatness that not even she sees or understands right now. With my love for her aside, I’m in awe of her and I know it’s not without reason.
“One of the most renowned doctors in this fucking state? That opinion doesn’t matter?”
“I wouldn’t give a shit if it were Barack Obama’s opinion.”
“This goes back to our conversation from a few days ago. Everything just rolls off of your shoulders and is no big deal to you. This shrug and whatever mentality works for you and everyone else in this room, but it’s not going to work for someone like myself.”
“And why won’t it? You give too many fucks about what people have to say. How do you feel about yourself? That’s the most important question that you should ask yourself whenever the irrelevant opinions of others gets to you.”
“Right. So while Wendy Williams labeled me as your whore, I should have been staring in the mirror and asking myself that question?”
“Are you my whore?” A tightness eased into my chest as my shoulders tightened. Our brows arose in unison as she glared at me in the same manner I was at her. Though the question had absolutely no intention to insult her behind it, it irked me that I even had to ask it.
“What kind of fucking question is that?”
“Answer it. Are you?”
“I’m not.”
“Then who are you to me?”
“You know exactly what I am to you.” Her arms flared out in an exaggerated manner and loudly slapped into her sides as she huffed in clear irritation with the way this interaction is going. Good. Now she knows how I feel.
“But do you? Who are you to me?”
“Your fiancée.”
“My fiancée. The woman that I got down on one knee and asked to marry me. The woman who I love more than anyone and any got damn thing. Wendy whoever gets to spew bullshit and put a cloud of darkness over that? You’re so caught up in being mad about that instead of being within this room with me. All I’ve been doing is watching you walk around here without ever stepping over in my direction to give me a hello. If anything, you’re feeding into narratives that shouldn’t even exist in our world. You’re treating me like a stranger because people ignorantly accused us of being strangers who fuck one another.  Now we’re standing here bickering back and forth over opinions that have absolutely nothing to do with either one of us when all I wanted to do was to approach you for a few minutes of your time.”
“Autumn!” Rachel exclaimed her name loud enough to turn our heads while catching the attention of a few others. With a clipboard in her hand, she adamantly waved her over for whatever task that needed to be handled.
“I have to go.”
“Sure. It’s not like we’ve had much interaction tonight to begin with. I can make a valid argument for the last week or so as well. You enjoying home?”
“We don’t live together.”
“A choice that you made.”  
“And I’m working.”
“Another choice that you made. Was it so we didn’t have to attend this together?”
“You sound so stupid.”
“Do I?”
My question went unanswered. Instead, my line of vision was met with her back as she jogged in Rachel’s direction to tend to whatever she wanted or needed. Just as she did, I tossed all of the content inside of the champagne glass down my throat and left it on a nearby empty tray.
My final move was to wave Mike over so that we could make our exit.
I’d had enough of the party.
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signednotme-blog · 6 years
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Dear Future Me...
I've tried to be the girl, I grew up being told that's what I was and from the age of three to about Fourteen I fought it and refused to be what they wanted I was a girl I knew that and I had long hair literally back then long hair was the only way to tell I was a girl. I hate long hair I always have I wanted it short from well the age I could make up my own mind but my mom wouldn't let me she likes long hair the boys had to have long hair too but they always got to keep it a little short I had to have this thin blonde hair all the way down the bottom of my back, a big sign yelling hey I'm a girl and that's what everyone thought an till they got to know me I was one of the boys forever getting dirty getting in fights and forever bleeding from somewhere. I always knew I wasn't one of the 'girl's' and I wasn't really one of the boys either I guess I didn't really know where I fit in and I don't know if I ever will know but I'm trying so hard to find me even though I'm terrified that I'm going to disappoint people. And I've never wanted to do that even though it seems like that's all I've been doing my whole life.
As a kid my mom wanted me to wear dresses and have my hair all nice and I hated dresses I actually cut one up once and pretended that I didn't know it was my dress.
My older sister was always on at me to do make-up and go shopping with her to buy pretty clothes I never did and she hated that but then she moved away when I was about eleven and I hated it because I know now it wasn't because of me but I always felt that she moved away because I wasn't the sister she wanted which she made clear to me growing up. From then on as she came to visit and I missed her more and more I gave in little by little I thought something was wrong with me I just wanted my sister. I just wanted to be loved and accepted because I never felt like I was hell I still don't but I think its more because I grew up being told who I am, what I am and I don't accept myself.
I went to an all girls school because it had a good dyslexic program but also because I thought maybe going there would make me the girl my mom wanted because if I went to a mixed school I'd just end up being friends with all the boys and nothing would change.
When I got to about thirteen I had never had my period and being at a girls school wasn't making me more of a girl and my friend there told me that your not a woman till you get your period and in my child brain that meant 'oh that's why I'm different I haven’t got one yet' and I started freaking out going to doctors to find out why it hadn’t started and it didn’t start until I was about fourteen and then when It did it felt wrong it still didnt make a diffrence and it just made me feel so uneasy and want to hide away (it still does it feels like my insides are telling me what ive been told my whole life your a girl your meant to be a girl). Around this time I also found out that I liked girls and thought I was gay because I hadnt been around any boys for a long time and didnt really have any crushes on any and I did this one girl everyone hated her including me a lot of the time but I just couldnt shake her and then I started looking at things about being gay and I started to think that's the reason Im different because back then the lesbian stero type was these girls that looked like men. So at fourteen I cut all my hair off and I felt more like me just because I had short hair and people called me him out on the street and I had to correct them because well if I didn't the people I was with would and I didn't really understand why being called she/her girl/lady left a pit in my stomach and he/him boy/lad didn't
I started college and on the first day my teacher called me him and I was so scared that someone would think I was lying if I just said yes or just went on with it. So I corrected him and that was possibly a big mistake because after that began the bullying girls coming up to me and saying I'm ugly im gross im fat im a lesbo (at this point I knew I was bisexual and had only just came out) I had anger issues so I just yelled back most the time and started fights but when id be called gay I had to say im not because I actually kinda wanted to get either a boyfriend or girlfriend at some point I was fifteen at this point this went on till the day I left. I never told anyone how bad it got but there was times my teachers took me out of class to ask me what was happening and if I was okay and this is when I became good at acting because I didn't want to be another problem I didn't want my parents to know so I just acted bubbly and fine till they wasn't looking or stopped asking. This is when I actually started self harming because I just felt so wrong in my own skin it was like I just needed to get out it wasn't me... it isn't me.
When I was sixteen I was still in college with the same people the same comments the same bullying... telling people just made it worse so I stopped but they carried on and I had to deal, my attendance became really bad and I didn't want to go because stepping in to that classroom or sometimes just out side the college made me want to die and I couldn't take it so I stopped wanting to go because I knew that my family couldn't handle what I wanted to do when I was there. I went in once and I met a new boy who had started (my first boyfriend) and he liked me the way I was even though I looked like a boy and he was okay with it and that gave me so much more confidence but then when word got out that the boy all the girls wanted got with me a little tom boy that everyone hated they gave me even more grief and I couldn't take it I gave in and brought my first girl clothes started doing make up and they stopped not completely but it got better so I kept up the sharade and I got some peace but I started to hate myself because I started having to make sure I looked like a girl all the time or id start to panic and I couldn't breathe, I stopped eating and then started cutting and my mom saw this as me just wanting attention but it had nothing to do with that it had nothing to do with anything she thought it was she didn't even ask me why I was doing it or how I felt she told me why and I said no but I could never really say because I didn't even understand.
I left college but I kept up the girl make-up and stuff I actually started to like doing make up and I still do but I don't like the fact people just think I'm a girl because of make up there's lots of boys who wear make-up. When I was about eighteen I started hanging out with a group of people who I now regret hanging out with. One night I went over my then friends house and her other friend was there we started drinking and talking then I only remember bits and pieces because we think I was drugged the last thing I remember before the lights went out in my head was me talking to her friend and openly gay man who dressed like a 'girl' wore make up and was 100% who he wanted to be and I was there pretending to be a girl and I broke down and I think that's the first time I ever told anyone I was a boy and that I wanted to die because that was easier than pretending but I couldn't die and I couldn't tell anyone because no one would understand and I had to be there for everyone.
That was when my spiral really began I started going crazy I started sleeping with my brothers friend and I started sending nudes and doing anything I could to remind myself I'm a girl and I convinced myself I was given this body for a reason to please people and thinking that made it easier. Later that year I started a tumblr dedicated to me showing off my body for it to give other people joy because it never gives me any ever. I started getting more body confident because I knew my body had a reason for being my body I had to use it I like making other people happy so I did, my body didn't make me happy but it did others which made me happy and it gave me the strength to get up in the morning.
I'm nineteen now and my mom's friend found my tumblr and my mom questioned me as to how id feel if my family saw it or how it makes me feel people looking at them and I just said it doesn't bother me because the body I've got the body I was showing they see it as my body but to me its a stranger its not me to me I have a flat chest, I'm a boy and I want to be seen as that. When I started weight training and going into body building I wasn't doing it to get healthy I just wanted to be more built and dad always told me that your chest gets smaller and its true it does and I wanted that I want to be seen as the guy I feel I am but that's never going to happen so ill keep pretending an till either I cant or I die and either way you keep telling me to be myself but then you call me a girl and tell me that's who I am.
My hairs long again and it kills me my chest isn't flat and it feels like I'm dying my body isn't big built and that makes people see me as a girl and I want so hard to say sorry I'm a guy don't know why you think different but I cant because they don't ant me to be and they know who they are and I'm never going to be who I am because I don't like choosing myself over other people.
Signed..... Date: 04/08/2018
Not me.
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insidejamarifox · 7 years
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f0xmail: Can The Broken Be Fixed? 
FOXMAIL
Dear Mr. Fox, Its been a while since ive visited your website. Last year I used to wait religiously for every post, but ive recently stayed away due to the pornographic nature of some of your posts. Your persobality is why i loved the site.
My question is, can a broken man ever be fixed? Ive seen on numerous occasions about how men can be turned gay but theres never been an instance of a man becoming straight thats been celebrated. Since i was a child i thought i was doomed and that gay was a disease you caught.
My mother hates me. After she found out i had a chance of being gay, she no longer cared about me. I didnt realize this until i realized how depressed i was. Because she was my mother i never knew one could look upon their child with the same look of disgust as a crippled, dying dog. Instead Reflecting back on incidents after i got curious with google when it was still new she found gay porn on our computer. When that happened the christmas and birthday presents stopped. Her dismissals became more frequent and harsh. She even sent me to stay with abusive relatives that drove my emotions deeper inside me. At the age of 10, i got my fitst girlfriend. When her brother found out about me being black he gathered up his friends and started bullying me. Over time it got worse, the abuse was no longer verbal, but sexual. I was molested by a group of boys down our street… even now i get a cold, soulless feeling every time i think back to my childhood. over the years and she never let me seek help. What happened caused me to zone out, almost like what happens in get out. Listening to how black people talk about gay people further pushed me to the point of accepting my fate. As a young child, i felt like i was doomed and had no one to talk to. After stepping up to my abusers i began to come home with bruises along with damaged pride. They told me if i didnt give them what they wanted they were going beat me until i liked it, so they did. When i repeatedly told her i didn’t eant to play with the neighbors she belittled me fot not having any male friends. Eventually i learned to tolerate the abuse the only way i knew how. A couple of months of neglect went by until my mother finally asked me why i was coming home in tattered clothes every day. I was too ashamed to tell her about the abuse, but i told her about how they beat me. The police got involved but they did nothing, since one of the boys were related to a fellow officer. Being one of few black families in a country town didnt help either. Fast forward, i am now a sexually confused , anxiety riddled loner who cant seem to trust people. My mother had long stopped paying attention to me. She even began sleeping with my father who also wanted nothing tk do with me AFTER she told him i was gay. I dont care what anyone says, sexuality doesnt exist in children… it just doesnt. Telling or treating a child like they are something and they will eventually conform, which is what happened to me. I began following my sisters, only because they were the only ones i could trust. I sung my heart out to beyonce to please them. It seems the only times i could put a smile on my face was to make a fool out of myself. Every girlfriend i brought home was dragged and i was drug for dating her. I hought having a girlfriend was what most teenage boys do but it didnt make them treat me any better though. As an adult i attempted to move out and find my own. Being by myself i began to discover more about my brokenness. I remembered a time i didnt feel awkward for staring at a woman’s ass because i thought i was gay. I got a girlfriend and a few roommates i was living with. I felt like i could finally be my own person because at home i didn’t feel like a man. No car, i was never taught how to drive so i wouldnt ask for a car. No stable job and i didn’t care. After a few years my gas ran out. My lack of knowledge of the world stunted me from succeeding. I struggled until i couldnt struggle anymore and attempted suicide. I knew i had no chance if i went back home. Id rather have died than come back. I awoke inside the hospital to my mother and sisters making jokes at my bedside, my mother calling the rest of my family and telling them my attempt was because i was afraid to come out to her. After she did that, i completely cut everyone off. I literally began begging her for help and she just sat there. She told me if i want to be drugged up for the rest of my life then i can drag myself to the mental hospital. Now im stuck. Ive never felt i had enough parenting in anything and it definitely shows. I now feel stuck in my brokenness. At least now i understand the broken man, because ive been one. Thats the only positive i think i can take from this.
( x MY ANSWER… )
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gogohedgehoglegs · 7 years
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Roxbury Marathon
Roxbury Marathon, December 9, 2017
Subtitled: One Way to Goof Off for 4.5 Hours
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The subtitle just about sums it up. Hartford was my last goal race of the year, and Roxbury is my never miss.  Its never my fastest, and sometimes, its my slowest.  Its the most wonderful race because its just a relaxed feel- both from the other runners, and the group who host the race.  They do it because they love their race series and their town, not because they are trying to make a buck.
And, Roxbury is such a pretty area. You get to drive past tons of horse farms to get there- and the first year I did it, a friend and we saw a buck on the side of the road in something that resembled a scene from Bambi.  But I digress.  
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This year was a little quirkier than most- there was some bad weather on the originally scheduled date, so they actually had to postpone it to the selected rain date(they tell you that when you sign up, since a December marathon in CT can have wild weather- ive run this race with temps in the 40s, and run it in a blizzard as well).  Messed up training and planning a little bit- last long run was farther out than I preferred, not to mention eating routine was off.  The day before I managed to spill half my lunch on the floor, and then pizza night just didn't happen, so I was kinda worried about whether or not I was fueled properly.  Not that it mattered in the long run.  It snowed 2 inches the day before the race, so roads were not ideal.
Morning of the race was pretty normal- the drive over is nice and easy since its all highway, and I got there in plenty of time to snag one of the coveted spots right on the road- which is great, since you pass the start/finish line 5 times- coming in from the out and back, and then all the loops around.  Its so great- you don't have to carry fuel, if you aren't sure about dressing you aren't layering up and then dropping clothes you'll never see again- you can just toss it on your car on the way by. About the usual sized crowd around, and it wasn't long before they called for lineup.  They thankfully didn't make us wait long- it was 18 degrees after all.
The first 4.5 miles are by far the fastest of the race- not because you're all jazzed up, but because its all downhill.  You start by running the opposite direction of the loop, out through town, past the market, the graveyard, and then you hang a right to head outs to Judd's bridge.  The roads were a little slick in the first part...and then it all goes downhill.  Literally and figuratively.  Literally because its downhill, figuratively because a good chunk of the out and back is a dirt road.  And guess what? Its not paved!  So let the slipping and sliding begin!  Another fun side effect of the freezing cold is that my honey stinger waffles are frozen, so I start stuffing them in my mittens to let the hand warmers thaw them a little.
It doesn't take long before my hips start to hurt- normally I don't have IT band issues, but true to form, an awful lot of pain flares up when you do a lot of side to side slipping, and my right hip is howling pretty good by mile 4, so I haven't even hit the turn around yet.  Everyone is still smiling at this point, and lots of encouragement- we are all in the fun together today.  My hip continues its grumbly business as we go climbing back up out of the Judd's Bridge turnaround, and its slow going.  Unlike Hartford when I said I had no goals and then blew my expectations out of the water, such was not to be the case today.  I decide to just take it slow, I don't need to hurt myself, and there are way too many miles left to strain unnecessarily.  I make it back to the start- its warming a little, but still pretty cold, so i'll keep the mittens and handwarmers the first loop at least(i wear gloves, handwarmers, mittnes, in that order), and off I go!  I say hello to some of the people working the start/finish water station- the same crew tends to be in the same spots each year.  
Around to the opposite side, and the fun stuff is already out! Grab a little beer and pretzels, water, and away I go!  This section of the loop is also dirt, so I'm running into the same situation here- its a lot of side to side slipping and sliding, and my hip is howling.  I make it back to the pavement- its slightly uphill back to the finish line, and my hip calms down, but its not happy.  I drop my mittens at the car, and make my way to the second loop, grabbing some water as I head past.  My waffles are also starting to get a little chewier, and I'm finding just holding them in my hand is enough to thaw them, and if that fails, sucking on chunks of them, it will melt.  This is probably the toughest thing of cold weather- I have yet to find any fuel that really tolerates that extreme cold.  On to the dirt road side, and the aid station, and what do I spy with my little eye? Fireball!  I pull up, I get poured quite the most generous shot, do a quick cheers with another runner- his back, my hip- heres to the Fireball helping!  A little more water, and away we go.  We run together for a bit, but he needs to walk, and I keep plugging along because I knida want to be done.
On to the third loop, and keep telling myself “relentless forward progress”, and off the pavement and onto the dirt again- a shot with another runner, I grab hershey kisses, and we end up spending the next loop(last half of third, first half of 4th) trading stories of races, ones we have done, liked, didn't like, etc.  half way through the 4th, we toast with more Fireball, I make a couple of jokes about how if you are going to set a new Personal Worst you might as well do it in spectacular fashion, and then also joke we should probably all be brethalized before going home, and I head off, he was going to wait for a friend to catch up.  I finish my fourth loop, and almost cry when they ask me if in done- I so want to be, but no, ive got one more.  We joke about how hard the later laps to track, but I'm so very very happy to be on my last one, my hip, and now my back, just hurt so much.  I turn for the last time onto the dirt road section, grab only beer and hershey kisses this time, thank all the volunteers for being out- they truly are what makes this race as wonderful as it is.  I move through the final turns, and finish line is in site! I trudge up the hill, and I'm done!  7th Roxbury Marathon in the books.
And honestly?? Can't wait till next year!
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Final stats:
4:29:39 (if you are going to have a new personal worst, relax, enjoy, and make sure its 15 minutes worse than your last PW, which, was my very first marathon, the first time I ran MDI)
27/57 overall, 11/21 women. (no age groups, just top 5 men and women overall)
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Not the Good Hand.
Having finally gone through the large folder full of my hospital letters, which in retrospect I should have done before starting the blog, I would like to clarify a few things from the previous chapter. The time it took for me to actually get my diagnosis, was quite a bit longer than I’d remembered it being. The date of my second appointment with Dr Gillmore and the official date of my diagnosis was October 2011, nearly a whole year after the resting bitch face incident and even then, it wasn’t a proper diagnosis. It was referred to as a clinically isolated syndrome with demyelination... yeah I have no idea what that means either, but I can tell you now it was NOT an isolated incident.
I’d also just like to correct the hilarity that was me telling you all that I had LEGIONS on my brain.
Legion
 1.    A division of 3,000–6,000 men, including a complement of cavalry, in the ancient Roman army.
 What I meant to put was LESIONS – I do not have a small Roman army pillaging my head. Thanks to mum for pointing that out.
 Lesion
 1.    A region in an organ or tissue which has suffered damage through injury or disease, such as a wound, ulcer, abscess, or tumour.
 Anyway, now that’s all cleared up, where was I?
 The Head Tilt Phenomenon
“I mean, the probability is that this won’t affect you again until much later on in life. You could be in your... mid 40’s maybe, before you have a relapse.”
Please remember this. This statement from Dr Gillmore was the reason I decided that it didn’t matter about the MS, because clearly, I was indestructible. MS? HA! Not going to affect me for another 20 years or so, drop the mic, leave the office, see you in 20.
I thanked Dr Gillmore (although thinking about it I’m not really sure why... do you thank someone for basically giving you a life sentence?) And we left. As we got into the lift to go down to B floor, I remember feeling very non-plussed by the whole thing. If this lead neurology consultant has just told me it’s probably not going to happen again until I’m like 40, it doesn’t really mean anything right now does it? There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me and even when it does happen again, it’s only a numb face. Maybe it’ll even out? Give the right hand side a couple of numb weeks? Literally couldn’t hurt and this changes NOTHING.
And that right there guys and girls, that carefree train of thought is why you do NOT make those sorts of off handed comments to stupid teenagers. They will take it for gospel. No amount of the use of the word ‘maybe’ will change that.
To the best of my recollection, we had driven to the appointment. It’s not really relevant, but I know some of you like the little details, a little something to set the scene if you will. We drove home (probably) and I flounced into the house, not a care in the world. I was actually in quite a good mood at this point because I’d started to be able to taste things on both sides of my mouth again; all I was thinking about was eating a bacon cheese burger. And then I saw Dad.
I can only assume that Mum had rang him at some point and given him an update on the situation, because as I walked through the living room door he turned, looked up at me from the sofa and he pulled the most sad, melancholy, disneyesque face I have ever seen to date, it was like looking at Droopy. This is when he tilted his head. Most of you reading this are guilty of doing the head tilt, whether it be in response to a friend whose dog has died or upon discovering that there are no more Oreos left in the cupboard. Both excellent reasons for tilting ones head, however, the amount of times I’ve wanted to slap someone upside their head for tilting it at me in a sort of “oh my God, I’m so sorry, how long have you got left?” kind of way, is unreal. So please, don’t EVER tilt your head at someone who has just told you they are disabled. Yes be considerate and ask questions, but I’m not a fucking puppy stuck in a pipe.
“How are you feeling?”
Well, to be honest with you Dad, I was feeling pretty perplexed. The only time I’d seen his face come even close to how it was on that day, was when he watched Lenny Henry feeding sugar water to a malnourished African child on a previous year’s Red Nose Day. Why is he looking at me like I’m a malnourished African child? I was genuinely confused at the reaction this irrelevant news was receiving. I told him I was fine, asked if anyone wanted a cup of tea and left the room post haste, as mum proceeded to point out to him that everything was fine, I wasn’t dying and that it probably wouldn’t affect me for a very long time. I can’t cope with this shite; I can’t deal with the seemingly soothing voice asking if I’m ok every 5 minutes, whilst looking at me like I’m made of glass. I decided to ring a friend and go for a walk. My apologies to you Louise, I can’t remember the full details of the conversation we had on that particular day, we’ve had a lot of serious conversations and a lot of long walks, they’ve all blended into one. What I can tell you is that there were numerous inappropriate jokes about my gammy face and that we 100% agreed that it was fine and it wouldn’t happen again for a very long time.
BULLSHIT.
The Hangover and The Claw
An unfortunate, yet sometimes comical side effect of MS is the way it likes to tinker with my memory, so my apologies if I have to back track from time to time. Join me, if you will, in attempting to journey back to April 2012. It was an exciting year, we had the London Olympics, Macklemore released Thrift Shop and I was having a cracking time, enjoying a LOT of nights out with various people from my TGI’s crew, only occasionally falling off a wall and/or throwing up into the streets of Derby. It was fucking great! On a side note, I hadn’t told any of my managers about my diagnosis at this point, it wasn’t affecting me and I had no intention of working there until my early 40’s, ABSOLUTELY NOT. But, I digress.
One very hazy morning(ish), having drunk myself to oblivion the night before (never drink Old Rosie at the end of a night, the hangover is just NOT worth it), I peeled my face away from my pillow, stumbled to the bathroom and proceeded to loudly empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl - still in the clothes from the night before. No shame.
Somewhere in between throwing up and trying to figure out why I hadn’t stayed round my friends house as originally planned, I can only assume I was too drunk and had been bundled into a taxi by someone, I became aware that I had pins and needles in my hand – hmm... must have slept on it. No worries, I’ll just shake it off.
Any minute now...
It’s going to wear off... any second...
Well fuck me was I shaking my hand on and off for at least 15 minutes and it did absolutely FUCK ALL. I can assure you if you think you’ve had the worst hangover in the world before now, you haven’t. You add the confusion of a numb hand and a lying bastarding consultant, that’s when you have the right to call it the worst hangover in the world. Mid 40’s my arse you lying prick. This is when the panic set in; picture it, a panicked hangover. It was hideous. I was already throwing up, the panic of my numb hand made me need to throw up more and I was sobbing into a toilet bowl. I cried as the reconstituted rum and coke spilled from my mouth, I tried to catch my breath as the room span around me and looked down at my now lifeless, sick covered hand, in an attempt to have something to look at to stop the spinning. I sobbed as the sight of my gammy hand caused me to projectile across the bathroom floor, not having the time or the attention to detail to stick my head in the toilet. Absolute chaos.
As the days went by, I noticed a definite weakness developing in good old righty. Never called my right hand that before - genuinely never will again. It didn’t feel right to type, but I like the way it looks on a page so. Good ol’ righty was not coping well and bearing in mind that this is my good hand, I started dropping things. To anyone that has just laughed because I referred to it as my ‘good hand’, it was EXACTLY like that. My hand was non-negotiable and had adopted a sort of claw shape, the numbness had crept up into my forearm and I could no longer hold anything without my wrist buckling, if I’d been asked to stir mash it would have been great. I seriously thought at one point, my God, I’m going to turn into a lefty...and no one likes a lefty! On the 17th April, I went to seek advice about my claw at the hospital. I’ve attached a photo of my clinic letter, purely and simply for the fact that they refer to this particular relapse as a MILD one. Looking back now, they were bang on, but at the time I was not impressed about this. Mild?! After the traumatic bathroom incident?! Oh how stupid I was, it was only going to get worse... which is great for all of you because from an outside perspective it just got more entertaining. I was given a weeks’ worth of oral steroids to speed up the recovery process in my hand/arm. I know what you’re thinking, steroids? And the answer is no, I did not get hench. My right arm did not become akin to Popeye’s and I didn’t have veins popping out of my skin. I’ll go into the wonders of steroids next time, oral steroids are no fun but IV steroids are where it’s at. You’ll also get to find out how I faired on 2 numb legs during snowy weather conditions, how I ended up being reviewed on Trip Advisor and the wonders of a drug called Copaxone.
I must apologise for the delayed arrival of blog number 2. Unfortunately for me, just as I decided to start writing a blog about my MS, my MS thought it would be appropriate to give me a numb fucking hand, so the last blog and this one have been written with some difficulty. So actually... I take my apology back because fuck my MS.
Thanks again for reading guys, hope you enjoyed the trials and tribulations of my astounding disability and bear with for number 3!
Leah x
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