Story Time! The First Stalker.

Okay, because I have a fascination with the macabre, it is always Halloween- at least inside of my head. I’ve been absent from WordPress for the past few days for this reason and the reason that Christmas is coming and I have shit to craft for gifts. Let me just say that Kitty isn’t worth this amount of detail and trouble, *sigh*.
Now, I grew up with three uncles- Mom’s brothers- and my Dad. Living with Dad was one of those things that would either make or break you. He was mischievous on an unheard of level and enjoyed frightening people. I once watched him climb down a cliff, chasing a rat snake just so he could climb back up with it and chase my great Aunt across the yard, screaming her head off.
His sisters tell the best stories.
As such, I have been considered…a little sick. I’ve been called worse, usually while laying on my side with a blue face gasping for air and clutching my sides. You may or may not have just nearly pissed yourself. It’s genetic, or so I tell everyone. Genetic…sadistic…do we have to mince words? I didn’t think so.
I am hard to scare. You know when you go through all that trouble to hide in the fridge and scare someone? I’m the someone that laughs in your face and tells you to bring your A-Game. Eat your wheaties, put on your big girl panties and spend weeks plotting it out. My brother, on the other hand, had to live with both of us. He is certifiably un-scareable at this point. It’s why we don’t hang out. He’s too much work.
I can be scared. But, most of the time, when I am it is very, very real shit. I have experienced some strange, paranormal shit in my life. One of my story times will be about the dead girl in my house. It still terrifies me, or the voice outside the door, the shadow man, all that good stuff. All of it happened.
You know that person in the group that hears the sound in the house and grabs the bat to see what it is? Yeah, that’s me- depending. I know when to gtfo and when to hold my ground. If Miabear is there, however, it’s her job to charge in. I follow. So help you if you hurt her- that’s me.
So, let’s rewind to years and years ago. I was hanging out god knows where and on facebook or myspace. I get this random friend request from this guy named Jamie. That’s his real name, fuck his privacy. We have a lot of friends in common, went to the same school, I recognize his name. I accept.
Big Fucking Mistake.
This guy starts talking to me like we are best friends- or were. I immediately feel terrible. I was the token lesbian in high school. I didn’t necessarily know everyone but they all knew me. I felt bad for not remembering him other than a name- not even his face. He just seemed so…sad, and lonely. I’m a sucker for that shit, so I chatted with him.
As time progressed, he began to reveal more and more things that he knew about me. I remembered all of these things (I’m one of those people) but never him being there. I call my ex who laughs and tells me he was never there, I’m not crazy. I can’t figure out how he knows all of this and take it as second hand tellings of events from a mutual close friend.
Then, the details go deeper. He begins revealing things that *only* I and the other person involved should know. I call Rainbow back, demand to know wtf she thinks she’s doing, revealing this shit. She swears she didn’t. Then, he tells me things only Proxy would know (closest friend at the time) and she would have never told anyone. Ever. To this day.
I’m getting concerned by now, fully aware something is wrong. Then, he confesses his love for me.
Nevermind that I’m a lesbian, we’re clearly meant to be. O.0
It got real in those next few days. He used to live across the street, he says. He used to watch my brother and I play outside from his window. We only lived there for six months. I never knew he lived there, never saw him, nothing. Neither did my brother.
Then, I remember. My journal. I wrote everything in those days. I remembered leaving it outside on the porch and going inside for a sandwich. When I came back it was gone. I convinced myself I’d misplaced it. It was never seen again. He had to have taken it.
Scarier part? That was in middle school. He’s five years older than me. I was in seventh grade, he was a Junior in High School. That’s where he got most of it. But, I didn’t come out or date Rainbow or anything else he knew until high school. I still don’t know how he knew. I’m 21 at the time and he’s been following me since seventh grade.
Let that sink in.
Jamie has since gone. Longer story short, I tried calling him out first. Didn’t work. I tried threatening him. Laugh all you want, I can be scary. Didn’t work. Finally, I convinced him that he was going to get me hurt if he didn’t go away one drunken night after a rant on psychology. I haven’t heard from him since but- knowing what I know now- I still keep an eye out for him.
*Jamie* scares the shit out of me.
PS: If I don’t know your ass, you’re not getting on my facebook. Bet.


Story Time! How I Met My Miabear.

As I write this it is 1:35 am. The day before everything. Go on, ask me what I’ve done. Nothing. I have procrastinated and I know it. The sad, sad, thing is…I’m still doing it.
I like to talk a lot, I’m sure you can tell. Miabear says I never shut up. Lucky for me, she likes it. Well, if we’re realistic, I know she’s tuning me out sometimes. She has that ability. However, she catches the majority and never lets on that she’s not really listening. She even goes as far as to tell me she loves it and all the random things that I know. My theory is that my head is so full of random knowledge that I talk to dispel it, because the younger I was the less I talked. I swear, as a small child, you couldn’t make me talk. I, of course, know that she’s doing it but she doesn’t know that I know.
I’m going to tell you how we met! Yay!
Alright, so, because I live in a-small-town-called-hell, most of the out LGBT community doesn’t come out until they’re gone *or* comes out and then quickly leaves. My options for dating are all exes. You know that wary look you give a mouse trap as you’re setting it? That’s the look I had when I decided to come back out onto the dating scene. So, I looked elsewhere. I’m just not the self punishment type.
First came my ex, who turned out to be…I don’t even know…in a town next to us. That…didn’t work out. I am attracted emotionally and sexually to…this energy, that some girls put out. Some girls don’t. A lot don’t, in my opinion and those that do are always females that identify as masculine and/or dominant. Hell if I know what it is, I’ll save that for a later post, k? Either way, she wasn’t it.
So, dating pool to 0. Again.
I was whining to a guy-friend of mine, one I’ve known since forever. You guys know that one guy who’s really laid back? Usually, they have long hair and play drums or guitar, and everyone in every place loves that guy? That’s him. He suggested that I get on POF (plenty of fish) at which point I remembered OkCupid as well. Online dating is scary to me. It makes me nervous. But, I tried it.
I was talking to several girls when Miabear messaged me. She’s got this look in her profile picture…you know the I-can-be-a-really-mean-person bitch face? She’s got *that* going on. I almost wrote her off, just because the look on her face. If you’ve never seen it, you’re not looking hard enough. However, she sent me her phone number and we began to text. She lived two and a half hours from me.
Texting turned into calling rather quickly as she wanted to tell me longer stories and I her but who wants to type all of that on an itty bitty keyboard? No one, sir; I say, no one. So, we talked. When I say we talked, I mean…I called her this day and other than to sleep or use the bathroom, did not get off of the phone with her for three straight weeks.
Now, I can deal with studs (all masculine of center women are being classified under that because I’m feeling lazy. You know who you are.) all day every day. If we’re on the phone, texting, internet, whatever. Face to face? Pfffft, HA! No. I swear, the majority of the time (majority being when I don’t have my face in a book) I am an outgoing and friendly person. I am like this with the general population and people I am uninterested in dating. However, if she is a “stud” and attractive in a way that I would consider a relationship- so much no. I just turn into…I’m shy, okay?!
She suggested we meet.
Shit got real.
I called Kitty immediately because my mind had malfunctioned. I had agreed to come to her, two and a half hours away, knowing good and damned well I’d seem like it was all a front and that’s not who I was. I was freaking out, man. Kitty agreed to go with me and elbow/push/hand signal/blow a semi-poisonous dart at me/whatever it took, to keep me normal and myself. I put on my big girl panties and warned Miabear. I had to. Kitty needs a warning label and I’m it. She wanted an explanation and I explained that I didn’t want to shut down. She wanted to know if there was something she could do to keep me from turning into a shy girly girl. I told her to hug me.
I immediately wondered why the hell I said that, being as shy as I am.
Three and a half hours (never, I repeat NEVER, trust Google Maps, they lie) and one…interesting road trip later, we had arrived. Kitty and I spilled out of the car as though we were just glad to be anywhere and immediately straightened up. As I approached Miabear who, surprisingly enough, looks better than her profile pictures, it started. My heart was pounding, I wasn’t sure what to say, and I became generally anxious. Most people get over that type of reaction in school. Not a lot of people can cause me to act that way.
Yes, I have an anxiety disorder. Normally, it’s very under control. It took years to be able to do this but never around anyone I’m attracted to. I just can’t control that.
Then, she hugged me. Like…no hellos, no real greetings of any kind. I came around the picnic table where she was sitting and she just stood up and hugged me. As she was hugging me, she greeted Kitty and chatted amicably with her, as if I wasn’t there, her arms casually around me and talking over my head. Not in a rude way, it was very accommodating.
She smelled amazingly, of course and it was just perfect. We just clicked. Throughout the day there (we spent ten times longer there than we meant to), every time that anxiety would kick up, she found a way to stop it. I haven’t felt it since then.
I even managed not to giggle like an idiot or say something terribly stupid when she touched me.
Now, the kids paternal families have been very accommodating since then as well. Nearly every weekend, I am either with her or she is with me. Sometimes, that weekend turns into a week, given what arrangements can be made.
Then, my kids birthday parties rolled around. My eldest two are a year and eight days apart. They’re at those ages where it’s still okay to share a party. Miabear was there and as soon as we came in, I lost her. She just…vanished. Most people do around my strange family. Then, chasing my nephew about, I realized I had also lost my children. Where did I find them? Hanging out with miabear in the living room floor, playing with their brand new toys. It occurred to me at that moment that I loved her. It also occurred to me that I had taken on another, older child, but that’s okay 😀
Now, I’m looking into the idea of moving. I won’t be moving in with her, I’m not a Uhaul lesbian, but I will be in the same town. I want to say it’s because of her, and I know a part of it is.
There’s just something about her that I haven’t felt in a long time. A really long time. In the post “A Letter to Studs” she does all of that. We’re not just dating, or just lovers, we’re really good friends. She said “it’s like you’re my girl *and* my *girl*, does that make sense?” recently. It makes perfect sense to me. She is just awesome, on so many levels, for so many reasons.
But mostly, it’s getting out of here. It’s a fresh start in a place where no one knows me. I love that. I want to take Kitty and Flutterby with me- Kitty is supposed to go too. But….I just have my doubts. I feel like they’re beginning to get Stockholm’s. I’m afraid all we’ll ever do, if I wait for them, will be sitting around and talking about leaving. I can’t live my life that way. Either way, I’m going. I can already feel my soul dying from being here and I can’t live like this. To save myself, I have to go and, who knows? Maybe, I’ll convince them to come along too. Either way…it’s really depressing.