The end?
Hey everybody! It’s Scotti.
I am sitting here at my computer like a true journalist, cigarette burning
in the ashtray to my left and a chilled Diet Pepsi settling to my right. I am
heartbroken, confused and in disbelief. Today was the day. The day she left.
The day they left. The woman I love and her three children I fondly refer to
as monkeys. My little monkeys. I am struggling to put to words how I feel and
think.
I helped them pack. I helped them load the U-haul, all the while thinking,
“Is this really happening to me?” Where did it all go wrong? Can
I even say? Not really. I am not sure what to believe. How much of this is what
we say to ourselves to ease the mind and soothe the heart? Is it the truth?
Short story-- I haven’t the energy to lay it all out. My mind cannot
handle it all. I think maybe it all comes down to the monkeys. Her family, her
friends, her conscience--all hate me for not having the penis that would make
this acceptable. It doesn’t matter that I was good to her, that I offered
her and the monkeys a better life. Her parents have said they would rather see
her in poverty than with me.
Her family started the squeeze which I have seen the effects of many times
over the years. I thought this time would be different. It wasn’t. They
put the squeeze on the monkeys. They refused to step foot in our house. They
came to vacation–and stayed in a hotel. Not one foot, not even if I wasn’t
home. Her father arrived yesterday to gladly help with the move. He stayed in
a hotel down the street and only came when it was time to load up.
They sure made the monkeys pay for her choices. The squeeze worked. She stuck
her tail between her legs, and ran… again.
She says she’ll be back. She says she has spent a life looking for their
approval. When she can stand on her own two feet and not feel like she needs
them, she will come home. She needs to gain the strength to stand up to them,
she says.
I know nothing of this approval she seeks. But I am sure she will never get
it. People like her parents never give out approval. My parents, God love them,
are old fashioned liberal peace making ex-hippies. I outed myself to them at
the young age of 16, not even concerned with disapproval. And I never received
it. It has never been an issue. I am told I am in the minority.
I am crazy. I love her. I love the monkeys. I am not some pathetic loser hanging
on this woman in desperation. I have never worried about an empty bed or lack
of conversation. I speak the language of romance fluently. But I have NEVER
loved like this. I have felt the earth move. I know what time standing still
feels like. It is always like this with her. It always has been.
So, what now? She has asked for time. I am going to give it to her. The “What
if” is killing me. I’ll wait. What choice do I have? The heart wants
what it wants.
--Scotty Blue
7:06:18 PM 
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