#oh yeah and a psychic told my grandma in a past life she was her fathers husband and she thought it was crazy but he said that makes sense | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

faeriekim-blog · 6 years

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P.I.S.T. - Chapter 4

“I wish you wouldn’t just turn up out of the blue like this,” she said, “I could’ve been in the middle of something. I could’ve been at work or in class.”

Her mother just waved away the complaint, quite literally. She actually physically waved her hand in response. “Oh Christine,” she said. “We know it’s only Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays you’re in college. And you only work weekends and evenings. Why can’t we come visit our little girl just to check on how you’re doing?”

Chris rolled her eyes and turned around to walk to the kitchen. Because it’s invasive, creepy and inappropriate, she thought. I mean I could’ve been masturbating or having sex! “Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?” She asked.

“Oh, that would be lovely, dear,” her mother replied. “Tea for me. And Jeffrey?”

“I’ll have a coffee,” said Dad.

Typical of him to be awkward, Christine thought. But she kept her frustration to herself and with a deep, calming breath, she put on the kettle and got the cups, coffee, teabags, milk and sugar ready.

“Hmm,” mother mused from the hallway. “This place could do with some work, and a good spring clean. I honestly don’t understand how you can live this way.”

Chris turned round with a frown and looked around at the kitchen and the hallway, where her mum and dad were still standing around, putting down bags and taking off coats. How long were they going to stay?

“It’s fine,” she said. “I tidied and hoovered two days ago. What else do you want?”

“Now, now, Christine,” her father replied, “don’t get testy. Your mother’s just concerned about your wellbeing.”

Testy? What kind of word was that? Chris sighed again and returned to the business of making the brews. It was best to let it go. “Go through to the living room,” she told them. “I’ll bring the drinks in shortly.”

They went to the living room. She finished making the drinks and then she brought them through.

She sat down. They all drank their tea or coffee. There was a weird, tense silence. Chris wondered what they objected to about the house. She lived here with two other students. It wasn’t super tidy but it was only usual household clutter. A few books and papers in haphazard piles on various surfaces. It was fairly clean too, especially by the standards of most students. She kept the kitchen as clean as she could and she dusted and hoovered once a week. Sure, there were some decorating issues but the house was perfectly functional for their needs. Parents could be so picky!

“How’s the course going?” Dad asked.

“Great, yeah,” she replied, “I’m loving it.”

“And the job?” He asked.

“Ok,” she said. “It brings in the pennies. And I love my customers and fellow workers. It’s really a lovely place to work.”

“Vegetarian restaurants,” mum said in a disapproving tone, “art degrees, feminist groups. When are you going to make something of your life, Christine?”

Oh here we go, Chris thought. Another annoying lecture!

“Now, now, Mary,” Dad interjected. “Let’s not start another argument.”

“I can’t help it, Jeffrey,” said mother, “it’s grandfather all over again.” She brought out a handkerchief and started mopping away a few tears. Chris was sure they were fake. “Do you know how much my mother suffered because of his half-baked ideas and crackpot ways? We were so poor growing up and all because he wouldn’t get a proper career to support us but devoted his time to that silly psychic group.”

Christine didn’t like to hear her grandfather spoken about in that way. She sighed deeply, inwardly furious. Why did she always have to bring that up? Chris had already heard the story a thousand times.

“They weren’t a silly group,” she argued. “They were pioneers. Grandad even got a book published on the phenomenon! He was a visionary.”

“Oh come now, Christine,” said Dad, “you know that ghosts and fortune telling aren’t real. It was ridiculous bunkum and he wasted his life on it.”

“Times were different back then,” Chris argued. “And Grandad was a success at what he was doing.”

“It didn’t help pay the bills though, did it?” said mother. “It didn’t bring the pennies in to support his wife and children. My poor mum had to scrub floors for a living. Such a disgrace!”

“Well, maybe men and women should work together to support the family!” Chris said, her pulse racing with sudden anger. “Maybe a man shouldn’t be expected to be the main breadwinner all the time. What was feminism for if not to fight against those sexist stereotypes?”

“Well, like you said,” mother replied, “times were different back then.” Christine fell silent then. It was actually a valid point. She could hardly hold past generations to the standards of today.

She sighed again and looked at her feet. She wasn’t unsympathetic to grandma’s plight, or her own mother’s unhappy childhood either. But Grandad was a great man in her eyes. He was so kind and funny, so creative and wise, so leftfield and interesting in his views and lifestyle. He was a lovely, old Irish man, who she loved to death as a child and his ideas and work inspired her.

“Look at your father and me,” mum continued, “we worked hard to support you and we’ve built a good life for ourselves. He works in a bank and I work for a respected legal firm. We’ve made enough money to have a comfortable life when we retire. But what about you, dear? How long are you going to coast through life, following impossible dreams of being an artist or wasting valuable time on activism, instead of putting aside money for a family or so you can comfortably retire when you’re older? When are you going to settle down with someone and have children?”

“Mother,” Chris said, “I’m lesbian!”

“I know,” she replied, “and I respect that. But lesbians can adopt, can’t they? Find yourself a good woman and settle down. Get a decent job and build a life for yourself. That’s all I’m saying. I know you loved your grandpa and were really upset when he died but please don’t follow him in wasting your life and your potential on crackpot ideas and fruitless dreams.”

“They’re not fruitless dreams!” Chris snapped, slamming her teacup down on the table so that the teaspoon chimed angrily against the china. “I’m not wasting my time on activism! Being a feminist or a vegetarian are not ‘crackpot ideas’! Art can change minds and hearts, mother. It can change the world. I’m helping women and the LGBT community with my activism. I’m doing good things with my life! Maybe I don’t want to conform to society’s expectations when society’s ideals are rotten to the core. Maybe I don’t want to work for the rich man and contribute to the continuing oppression of the poor, the disabled, people of colour, women and lesbian, gay and transgender folk. Maybe I want to make a difference to the world!”

“And how can you do that with no money and no power?” Dad said, calm as anything but with eyes so cold and disappointed. “Listen to your mother. She’s talking sense, Christine.”

Mum shook her head and placed her hand on her brow dramatically. “Oh, it’s your grandfather all over again,” she said. “We tolerated the haircut, the clothes, the lesbianism. But honestly, Christine, try to think of the future. You can’t just be a student and an activist for the rest of your life. You’ve got to pay your way in this world. That’s just how society works.”

Chris sighed again and looked at her shoes. There was no point arguing with them. They had a completely different outlook on life. She wondered how they had managed to be teenagers during the 60s but let the ideals of the hippy generation completely pass them by.

She barely tolerated the rest of the conversation. Once they had got their concerns off their chest and Chris had stopped arguing the point, they soon moved on to talking about aunts and uncles, weddings and children. Christine responded as best she could but her mind was elsewhere. Eventually they said their farewells, gave her a hug and left.

She crept up the stairs, exhausted and shook by the whole exchange. Why couldn’t they just let her live the life she chose?

She entered her bedroom and took a box from under her bed. She pulled out a photograph and an old paperback book. They smelled musty and old. The photo was of her and her grandfather. She was only a little girl at the time. They were both smiling so happily in the picture and his arm was around her so lovingly. She turned the photograph over and on the back were the words, “don’t let the bastards get you down” and it was signed “Grandpa Willie”.

��She put the photograph back in the box and looked at the cover of the book. She brushed off the dust with her hand. The book was called “Psychic Phenomena and the findings of P.I.G.” That was the name of grandad’s Psychic Investigation Group. He had found it amusing that it spelled out the name of an animal. In fact Grandpa Willie had been the one who told her that pigs were highly intelligent animals and that we shouldn’t eat them.

And there was his name under the title: William McInnery. It was him who had formed the Psychic Investigation Group or P.I.G. to study mysteries and the paranormal. Suddenly a drop of clear liquid splashed onto the cover. It came from her eye. She was crying and hadn’t noticed.

She sniffed back the tears and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she put the book away. Pull yourself together, she told herself. You can’t save the world if you break down in tears at the slightest setback.

The next day after classes, Christine went to the radical feminist discussion group that met up every Wednesday afternoon at Bedford College. As usual the room was a bit cold. They needed better heating in here. But it was a large room, the walls were white and the floor was clean. They sat in the centre of the room in a circle of chairs, the same kind of grey plastic chairs with metal legs that you get in schools.

There was a new member there this week, a cute, feminine looking Indian woman in her early thirties. Her name was Sophie, which seemed like an unusually European sounding name for a woman who was clearly from a South Asian background. Then again though, Chris thought, there was some Greek influence on certain parts of India during the time of Alexander the Great and after hundreds of years of Colonial influence, surely some Indian parents gave their children English names anyway.

It was nice to see a new member. The group was getting kind of stagnant these days. Radical feminism was hardly as popular as it used to be. It was intersectional, fourth wave, “choice” feminism that was all the rage now. Some members of the group were very vocal in their criticism of it. Even Chris had to admit that celebrating young women flaunting their bodies for cash and focusing heavily on the latest PC crusade with regards to race or disability did seem to have deflected the feminist movement from its primary aim of empowering women and challenging sexism.

Following a preliminary introduction, one of the group decided to raise a topic that reminded Christine that even her own side could annoy her at times though.

“I want to raise a serious topic that I don’t think we’re really talking about enough, to be honest,” said Heather, a plump, rosy faced middle aged woman that Christine knew well. “I want to talk about the current wave of ultra politically correct transgender activism and the worrying consequences of bowing to its demands too willingly.”

There was a tense pause. Christine knew that the room would be divided on this issue. She glanced over at the new member. Sophie was visibly squirming in her seat. She looked around at the room nervously and for a moment their eyes met. Chris gave what she hoped was a sympathetic smile. Sophie smiled shyly back and swiftly looked away again. Was she blushing under her brown skin? Had Chris accidentally made some kind of move?

“A key aspect of women’s oppression is to do with our reproductive rights and our bodies,” Heather continued, “and in an age where we cannot even talk about pregnancy or periods without treading on eggshells around the language we use, when we can’t even talk about vaginas as female organs anymore, our ability to even talk about this oppression is being eroded by politically correct transgender newspeak. This is a problem. Controlling our language and our ability to talk about our needs and our rights is a form of oppression in itself. And have you seen these videos on YouTube talking about how not being sexually attracted to women with penises is transphobic? How rapey is that? It’s not ok to be a lesbian anymore? It’s not ok to be repulsed by penises? Are they really saying that lesbians have to be ok with sucking some guy’s cock and if we’re not, then we’re the bigots? And then there’s the issue of women’s spaces being invaded by men who believe they’re women. Not just toilets, but prisons, changing rooms, rape shelters. They don’t even have to have had the surgery or been on hormones anymore. We’re supposed to just welcome them in because they wear a dress and high heels and call themselves women! Well, when are we going to speak out, sisters? When are we going to stand up and say it’s not ok for misogyny and entitlement to creep in through the back door in the name of trans activism?”

There were several cheers and murmurs of agreement in the room. But there were other women there who looked uncomfortable and uncertain. Chris felt like she should be the one to speak up.

“I agree about the erosion of language,” she said. “I’ve been a bit concerned about that myself. As you know, I have my own misgivings about language policing and the picky PC culture of the fourth wave. However…” She paused, trying to collect her thoughts. “I’m not sure we should be so eager to paint every single person who has a penis as part of some homogenous group of misogynistic male rapists-in-training. The thing about trans women in women’s spaces, is that these are not men we are talking about, and certainly not the same kind of men who would be any kind of danger or risk to us. Don’t we believe that gender is a social construct? Don’t we believe that there are no intrinsic traits that define someone as male or female other than those that come from biology? So if a trans woman, who by nature feels uncomfortable in a male role and desires to adopt a female role, needs to access a female space, what exactly are you saying the problem is with that?”

“They’ve still been socialised male,” said Heather, “they still have been trained to objectify women and view us as lesser. They still benefit from male privilege.”

“Do they?” Chris challenged her. “Do you even understand anything about the transgender condition? What privilege has been afforded them has been tarnished in their own eyes by the crushing limitations and pain of having a gender role forced on them that is utterly anathema to their own nature and desires. In short this should be something we understand only too well from having femininity forced on us! How can you sit there and claim that people with penises all think the same, feel the same, are the same? How can you imply that there would still be a risk from these people even after they have sought hormone replacement therapy or sexual reassignment surgery? Are you really claiming that there is something other than the physical that defines our genders? And socialisation? The whole reason that socialisation and gender stereotypes are so damaging is because men and women vary in their natures and our genitals do not define us. Do you not see how you are complicit in the very faulty thinking you claim to be fighting by stating that these transgender women are actually rapey, sexist men in disguise because they are somehow utterly defined by their evil male penises?” She paused for effect. Heather was frowning, as were some of the others, but they didn’t interrupt. Several other women were watching and listening with interest.

“I wonder when we lost our way,” Chris added, shaking her head. “I wonder which side of feminism has lost its way the most. There are many things about fourth wave feminism that cause me concern, that worry me that the feminist cause is in danger of being watered down or that we are being distracted by intersectionality and losing sight of our true focus. But when I listen to you assigning stereotyped, unchanging attributes to people based solely on what genitals they were born with, taking the most desperately miserable, most persecuted and most misunderstood demographic and vilifying them as no different from brutish, arrogant men purely because of the possession of a penis, I wonder if you truly understand anything about gender or what makes a trans woman different from a cisgender man.”

“Is this a ‘not all men’ argument?” Quipped Jean, a skinny young lesbian with short hair and crooked teeth.

“Yeah,” added Heather, “and what about the erasure of lesbians and the insistence that we should all be eager to sleep with a woman who has a penis?”

“Of course you don’t have to get sexual with a penis,” Chris responded, losing her patience with the tone of the discussion. “And of course it’s ok if you define your lesbianism as including a preference for vagina. But it’s also ok if other lesbians define their orientation differently. It’s ok to acknowledge that a trans woman is a woman and that in any case trans women do not relate to their penises the way men do. Many trans women do not even want to use their penis like a man would. Do you know that? Many of them do not even like to be touched there. If a lesbian can see beyond anatomy to the person beneath, then who are you to invalidate her identity? Isn’t that just as dangerous as invalidating the identity of someone to whom the genitalia of their partners is important? Both things are wrong and we should all support each other.”

Chris paused again and looked around the room. There was no verbal comeback this time. But several of the women looked shocked by her words.

“I don’t know how to explain this any better,” Chris continued. “When did this become a battle of words or an assigning of labels on people? Are we doing the same thing as the fourth wavers now? Man, woman, lesbian, gay, straight – these are all just words. It’s people that matter, not labels! ‘Not all men’, you say. Well, damn straight it’s not all men! Men are people too you know. They don’t all think alike, or feel alike. And I would’ve thought it obvious that a trans woman is the type of person, among those born with a penis, who is the most unlike the macho stereotype of the sexist man. There is no universally applicable attribute to what men or women are like, other than mere biology. That is what we believe, isn’t it? So how can you sit there and say that a trans woman is any more of a risk to women than a butch lesbian or a trans man? Even if you assume characteristics to those who have testosterone pumping through their veins, which may well be a reasonable assumption to make, then I’m sure you can see that once those factors have been altered then we are no longer dealing with a man. This is certainly the case after surgery. If you somehow think we are, then you no longer believe what you claim you believe. You are tacitly asserting that there is some non-physical, essential difference between men and women, a difference of the mind.”

Chris paused again and let out a long sigh. The room was silent.

“I remember the eighties and early nineties,” she explained, “even though I was only young at the time. I think we have badly lost our way. Not just the fourth wavers, but us radical feminists too. Socialisation or no, physical anatomy or no, we are all just people underneath. Whatever someone does with their own body, or their legal or social identity, it is not my place to judge it. Men and women come in a variety of forms. We are not defined by our genitals. There is no essential difference between one born male who wishes to transition to female and someone who was born female to begin with. If I were to believe that there was an essential difference then I would no longer be able to declare myself a radical feminist. I would’ve bought into society’s and patriarchy’s lies about gender.”

She sat back in her chair, breathed a long sigh and relaxed. All was silent for a while. Then Heather began to speak, a little less emphatically, about her concerns and the conversation continued. It didn’t matter though. Chris had said her piece. She had checked their bigotry just enough that they when they continued it was with more care and compassion than before.

After the meeting was over, Sophie came up to her. “I wanted you to know that I agree with you, wholeheartedly.” The Asian woman said with a cute little smile.

Chris looked down at those delicate features, those big brown eyes and that long silky black hair. Why were Indian women so beautiful? “Oh,” Chris said, blushing, “thank you.”

“It was a really great speech,” Sophie added, looking down and away with another shy little smile.

Chris didn’t know what to do with herself. She found herself fidgeting with her hands, not quite knowing where to put them. In my pockets, by my side, clasped together in front of me, where do hands go again? Suddenly Sophie looked up at her again and Chris stopped moving her hands, as if frozen to the spot.

“Are you a lesbian?” Sophie asked. Chris looked down at those big dark eyes looking up at her hopefully. She merely nodded. “Ah, good,” Sophie replied, looking down at the ground again. “Only I was thinking of going to the lesbian night at the Barley Mow on the weekend, and wondered if you wanted to come.” She looked up again, expectantly.

Chris smiled a warm, broad smile. “I’d love to,” she said.

I’m only posting the first 8 chapters of this story on this blog. To read the rest of it, please buy The Psychic Investigation and Study Team on Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk

#fiction #fantasy #supernatural #writing #novel #lgbt

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mittensmorgul · 7 years

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7.07: Sam and Dean both end up working the same case about psychics... it’s like they both just knew... :P

Sam sort of flinches when Dean sits down, and I’m not sure if he was even positive that Dean was REAL and not a Satan Hallucination until the waiter took Dean’s order. Proving just how concerned even HE is about how in touch with reality is might or might not be.

MELANIE: I'm off the clock. Also not psychic. What? It's an honest living. DEAN: Interesting definition of "honest." MELANIE: Well, I honestly read people. It's just less whoo-whoo, more body language. Like you two – long-time partners, but, um... a lot of tension. [Gestures to SAM.] You're pissed. [Gestures to DEAN.] And you're stressed. It's not brain surgery. It's kind of why my grandma and me didn't get along. I mean, she'd go full smoke-machine, but she still actually believed in all that stuff, so...

Well, she did honestly read them...

When she discovers that ghosts are really real, she also finds out Sam and Dean aren’t really real FBI agents.

MELANIE’S FRIEND: Phony lawman, huh? DEAN: Yeah, 'cause nobody can relate to phony around here. MELANIE’S FRIEND: Well, if you can do something, I don't care if you call yourself the Pope.

But Dean somehow spots the tiny hidden camera in her house and they’re able to see the ghost on the video footage. Which leads Sam and Dean to the local museum to investigate the ghost...

And go directly to the “Sibling Acts” gallery.

MUSEUM GUIDE: Never ended well for the siblings. DEAN: Why is that? MUSEUM GUIDE: Mm, the strain of working together, or maybe just being around each other all their lives. Those two were the exception, actually – the Campbells. Got along famously. Of course, that was just a stage name. They weren't actually brothers. That was a cover for their, um... alternative lifestyle. Any other questions I can answer?

Sure museum dude, please describe Sam and Dean for us using a pair of psychic sisters as loose mirrors:

MUSEUM GUIDE: Oh, the Fox sisters – among the founders of Lily Dale. Kate Fox – quite troubled, apparently, but mesmerizing onstage. She's said to be able to levitate objects and foretell one's death. MUSEUM GUIDE: Her older sister, Margaret – perhaps not a natural psychic. DEAN: So, full of crap. MUSEUM GUIDE: Yes, well... she didn't have her sister's charisma, but she looked after Kate. Sometimes, one's true gift is taking care of others.

So the younger sister would be describing Sam, and the older sister describing Dean... BUT THE OLDER SISTER WAS THE NATURAL “PSYCHIC.” The one with A NATURAL GIFT, which we know is how Melanie makes her “honest living” by reading people... because Dean’s got that same gift. Which I repeatedly refer to as his uncanny instinct. And hell if his true gift isn’t taking care of others as well... even if he’s sort of sucking at it in s7 when the whole world is seemingly out to push him into a corner...

And as they’re walking away, the guide pulls Dean aside with a message:

MUSEUM GUIDE: I’m sorry, I don't normally do this during business hours, but do you know an Eleanor... or an Ellen? She seems quite concerned about you. She wants to tell you – pardon me – if you don't tell someone how bad it really is, she'll kick your ass from beyond. You have to trust someone again eventually.

And Dean’s finally fed up with Sam’s attitude:

DEAN: Look, I get it. There are certain people in this world, no matter how dangerous they are, you just can't. SAM: Don't pull that card! That's bull. Look, if I've learned one thing, it's that if something feels wrong, it probably is! DEAN: Usually, yeah. But killing Amy was not wrong. You couldn't do it, so I did. That's what family does – the dirty work. And I woulda told you, eventually, once I knew that this whole "waving a gun at Satan" thing was a one-time show. I think it's reasonable to want to know that you're off the friggin' high dive, Sam. You almost got us both killed, so you can be pissed all you want, but quit being a bitch.

But they burn the wrong bones, because they bought into the lie...

DEAN: Should have known that whole "good sis, bad sis" story was just showmanship crap. Oh, and it turns out that Kate was just trying to warn people about her evil bitch sister. And we burned her bones, so that's gone.

So the “real psychic,” with the actual abilities, was killing “fake psychics” because he was bitter that he lived in squalor because people were actually AFRAID of his gifts-- they were just too real and scary. It all boiled down to the fact that he was bitter that these frauds were making a living while he struggled to get by, and he thought they all deserved to die for it.

And I always forget that Dean did have this genuine emotional connection with Melanie, just like he had with Tina in 10.12. It wasn’t “performing Dean,” because he’d been forced to drop his mask right from the start with her, to show her a bit of the truth of himself, because she never tried to hoodwink him with the truth about HER. Honesty is so damn refreshing. :P

And we have a beginning of openness between Sam and Dean:\

SAM: No. Uh, not at this moment. Look, you know what? Um... You were right. About Amy. If she was... just any monster, I'm not sure I could have let her walk away. I don't know. I mean, I'll never know. DEAN: So, what are you saying? SAM: What I'm saying is... I get why you did it. You were just trying to make sure no one else got hurt. But here's the thing. You can't just look me in the face and tell me you're fine. I mean, you're not sleeping, you drink for the record— DEAN: Oh, here we go. SAM: Look, whatever. Last one to preach, I know. But... Just be honest with me. How are those the actions of someone who knows they did the right thing? DEAN: You want me to be honest? SAM: Yeah. DEAN: I went with my gut. And that felt right. I didn't trust her, Sam. Of course, ever since Cas, I'm having a hard time trusting anybody. And as far as how I been acting... I don't know. Maybe it's 'cause I don't like lying to you. You know, it doesn't feel right. So, yeah, you got me there. I been climbing the walls. SAM: I know how that is. But, hey... If I learned one thing from that museum, sibling acts are tough. DEAN: Oh, don't compare us to that hall of crazy. We're like poster kids of functional family life compared to them. SAM: It's a low bar. DEAN: Well, hey... grading on a curve has got me past everything since kindergarten, so don't knock it. SAM: Whatever you say.

#spn 7.07 #s12 meta rewatch #winchester family dynamics #sam sympathizes and dean empathizes #seriously though why doesn't everyone just trust dean's gut instincts it's like he's got an uncanny magical gift here...#sam vs reality #dean is a genius and if you disagree you can fight me

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surveys4ever · 3 years

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Why did you first kiss the last person you kissed? Because I love him and I finally got to meet him in person for the first time!

Do you care what people think? I try really, really hard not to but it’s hard when there are hundreds of thousands of eyes on you, all with opinions on literally e v e r y t h i n g you do.

Are you listening to music? If so, what is it? Nope, I’m listening to the movie my husband has on in the background.

Do you like to take walks? My dog sure does!

Would you ever date someone out of state? My husband was out of state in the beginning!

Plans for tonight? I have to shower and finish redoing my kitchen shelves!

Do you want to go to a party? On one hand, its been nice to have friends that like me enough to invite me to a party but on the other...I have social anxiety soooo no.

Has your birthday past this year? Yup! January baby.

Has anyone seen you kiss the last person you kissed? Plenty of people over the years!

Will this year be better then last? I think every year after this one will be a better year than last year lol.

Can you listen to music while reading a book? Yeah! I enjoy it.

Are Monday mornings the hardest mornings to wake up to? I work from home so all my days are the same! It’s not really hard to wake up ever, unless I was up super late or couldn’t sleep the night before.

Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? I would LOVE to go back and relive when my husband and I first met. Just to experience it all again!

Last thing you ate? Doritos!

Who was the last person’s voice you heard? Ryan Reynolds’, haha!

Who do you get along with best in your family? My younger brother or my grandma!

How old do you think you’ll be when you get married? I was 19!

Have you ever been kissed in a car? Many times!

Who were you last on the phone with? Either my mom or the vet!

Do you think anyone has feelings for you? I know someone does!

Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 months from now? It’s been 9 years, so yeah!

Can you commit to one person and one person only? Already done!

Is there someone who continuously lets you down? Of course.

Is there anyone in your life that knows right away something’s wrong with you? My husband knows me a little too well, haha.

Do you miss your past? Some bits of it!

Are you typically a happy person? I try to be! My brain really tries to prevent that though, sadly.

Do you miss the way things used to be between you and someone else? Yeah. That’s the worst part about getting older.

Who last made you smile? Hubs :)

Can you recall the last time you sincerely liked someone a lot a lot? I can recall right now, yes!

Is there a difference between love and being in love? Obviously!

Where is your Mother? At home I would assume!

Have you ever laid on a couch with the opposite sex? Many times, yes!

Would you rather look at clouds or stars? Stars. Looking at clouds hurts my eyes.

If you could change one thing this year about your life, would you? I mean...I’d like for covid to not be a thing. That would be nice.

Did you sleep alone last night? I never do!

Does it matter to you if your boyfriend/girlfriend drinks? I mean, to excess, yes I would care. But the occasional drink, no!

Do you like potato chips? Yessss.

Are you ticklish? Much to my dismay, yes.

Craziest place you have slept? I don’t think I sleep in very crazy places ever.

Have you ever been cheated on? Nope!

Can you count on anyone to be there for you, always? That’s the best part of being married!

Do you think being “heart broken” is as bad as people say? Oh it’s so much worse.

I’m guessing you’ve probably been asked this before, but which do you prefer - Coca Cola, or Pepsi? Coke!

Do you think the last person you texted is a virgin? (You don’t have to tell us who the person is, just say yes or no.) No, my husband is not a virgin.

Has your phone ever gone off in the middle of a class at school? I always had it on mute!

In your phone’s contacts, who is the second person listed under the letter ‘R’? My hair stylist!

What is that person’s favourite drink? I’m unsure what her favorite is but last time we were there, she requested I bring her a berry Propel!

Has the last person you texted, ever been in your bedroom? Yes, as its his bedroom too.

The last time you washed your hair, did you use conditioner? .....there are people who wash their long hair and don’t use conditioner???

Do you prefer light or dark jeans? There’s a time and place for both!

Do you have an item of clothing that reminds you of someone? Tell me about it, and the person it reminds you of. There’s a lingerie set I wore in an ad for a major brand that always reminds me of my husband because we shot it together and it was a really surreal moment.

If the last girl you texted told you that she was pregnant, how would you respond? She is pregnant, actually! I was super excited for her.

How old is the last male you texted? 27!

How would you react if your mother told you that she was pregnant again? I would be P I S S E D. I already have too many siblings, she does not need any more kids, especially at her age.

Who do you have the most text messages from? Definitely my husband.

When was the last time you visited the doctor? Yearssss ago. I’m terrified of doctors.

Do you know anyone who deserves to be slapped? Oooooh yes, she’s had it coming for far too long.

When you listen to music, do you generally sing along, or just listen? It depends! If I'm just sitting around doing nothing, I just listen but if I’m cleaning, I sing along.

Do you have any of your exes as friends on Facebook? No, I think that’s weird.

Would you have sex with the last person that poked you on Facebook? Poking hasn’t been a thing for yearssss but it was probably my mom, so...

Does more than one person like you? Probably but idc.

Who is the youngest person in your household? When is that person’s birthday? Our pup! It’s also in January!

Who was your first love? Do you ever miss that person? My husband! And I don’t have to miss him, he’s right here.

What is a word that starts with the second to last letter of your name? Ever.

Do you like your middle name? Ehhhh! It’s not my favorite. It’s an old lady name that’s been passed down through the generations but I don’t really like my family so I’m not attached to it at all. I’ve thought about changing it.

Would you ever visit a psychic? I really want to! I wanna see what they have to say.

You log into Facebook and see the red ‘1’ notification next to the message icon. Who do you want it to be? I dunno! Someone exciting I guess.

Let’s say I was going to make you something to eat, what would you like? :) I would love some Chinese food, if you know how to do that!

And what drink would you like with that? Just water is fine by me.

Do you know anyone with the same first name as you? Tell me about him/her. I know plenty but the first one that comes to mind is my childhood best friend’s high school best friend, if that makes any sense? We were best friends in middle school and then we went to different high schools so they became best friends. I’m Facebook friends with her but we’ve never actually met in person, haha!

If your hair is long, would you ever think about having it cut short? Or, if it’s short, would you like to grow it long? I’ve had it super short and I’ve had it down to my butt. It’s currently at my shoulders but I’m attempting to grow it out...I’m thinking like titty length?

Can you remember the last time you felt emotional? What was the reason? Period hormones, baybeeeee.

Do you call your partner ‘baby’? Rarely! It’s usually beebs or bean.

What if you were told that your life has to stay exactly as it is right now, and nothing will ever change? How would you feel about that? I would honestly be pretty okay with that.

#survey

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