Coming clean.
Man. My updating kind of sucks ass these days. It’s not that stupid shit isn’t happening all around me ALL THE TIME, because believe me, it is. My feelings have been all over the place lately, and who wants to read about that crap? Plus, I switched from depo back to the pill, so my hormones were a little wonky for a few days, too.
Ok, they still are. Whatever.
So, New Year’s Eve kind of blew. I wasn’t looking forward to doing anything. I was missing Scott big time, and I kind of just wanted to hang out at home and feel mopey for a while, and not have to deal with a bunch of drunks. But Kay wasn’t going to let that happen.
She threw a small party at her house with a bunch of our friends. She also invited my parents. Now, to show you just how white-trash my parents are, they brought their own accomodations to the party:
Yes. That is their motor home. In front of Kay and DMX’s house.
Classy.
Everyone was drinking, and having a good time when my intestines decided that they didn’t want to have fun anymore, and they were going to stick me with crippling abdominal pain for the rest of the night (TMI ALERT: it’s called GAStric bypass for a reason. Seriously. OWWWWW.), which made me the least fun person in the whole house (and that even includes dipshit Barney).
Kay and I went for a walk around the block, because moving around helps relieve the pressure. While on the walk, she decided to tell me that she told my mom about Scott (Kay loves to drop the bombs when she’s drunk). I think I’ve mentioned before that I haven’t told my parents about Scott, because my mother is convinced that the only people on the internet are serial killers and sex offenders.
When midnight rolled around, my mom came up and hugged me, and said, “So… do you have anything you want to tell me?” I could see an excited look on her face, but I wasn’t telling her anything.
“No, Mom. I don’t.”
“Mike* doesn’t know yet. You can tell me. Don’t you have something to tell me?” That bitch lied, because she ran and told my dad the minute Kay told her.
*My dad.
“No, Mom. Not at the moment, I don’t.”
A few minutes later, my dad grabbed me, and put his arm around me, with a goofy drunken smile on his face. While it is known to both of us that we love each other, we don’t show it or say it often. So when he grabbed me, even though I knew he was loaded, it still made me feel weird. And he had such a silly look on his face, and I knew it was because he knew something he wasn’t supposed to, and the fucker was enjoying how uncomfortable it was making me. If I didn’t take such satisfaction in the discomfort of others myself, I might have been mad. He just said, “I just want you to know I love you, kid.” And I thought to myself, wow, I love it when my parents tell me they love me while they’re shit-faced drunk.
A couple of days later, I emailed my mom at work and told her that I was stopping by to give her the details of my relationship with Scott. I’ll be honest. I was nervous. SUPER NERVOUS. Not to mention poor Scott was feeling pretty stressed out, and he was 3000 miles away. It’s kind of sad that at 33 years old, I’m still this afraid of my mother and her opinion, but it’s true.
So, I sat down at the kitchen table, and said, “Ok. What did she tell you?”
“She said you had a boyfriend named Scott who lived in Virginia, and that he’s been your boyfriend for a long time. Why didn’t you think you could tell us?”
“Well… when I tell you, you’ll know. So… I have this blog, right? I’ve been writing there for a while, and one day someone left a comment about something I wrote, so I clicked over to his blog, and started reading… and then one day I sent him an email about something, and we became friends, and started talking, and it just sort of…evolved.”
“Evolved how?”
“What do you mean evolved how? It went from friendship to more. Retard. And, I know how you feel about people who meet people online, and I got scared. I figured you wouldn’t trust him, and would think I was in danger of being chopped up and stuffed in the trunk of a car.”
“Now, why would I think that? Don’t you think Mike and I are open-minded enough to reserve judgement?” Uh, no. Not really. “But…has he ever asked you for any identifying information? Credit card numbers, bank account information? Has he ever asked you for money?”
“Oh. My. God. This is EXACTLY what I was talking about.”
“Oh, shutup. I’m kidding, you big baby.”
So, we talked some more, and I told them more about him, and frighteningly, they were incredibly supportive and encouraging. Now I fear that they’re going to force that poor man to meet them the next time he’s here.
God help him.
Comment by Wen
January 4, 2007 @
It was gonna happen sooner or later. And I’m sure that Scott will charm the pants off them. And they want you to be happy. Whatever you do though, DO NOT give them your blog address. Because you will never again be free to say what you want.
In the mean time, I think you should crack your “best friend” upside the head with a rock.