Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Dirty Laundry 64

Pussycat was drunk when he called me. Yes, called me. Not texted, but actually phoned. That's how drunk he was.

Pussycat-:"What's your perfect man?"

Me-:"Don't you mean who?"

Pussycat-:"No. what? I'm going to find you someone tonight! Girl!"

Me-:"I'll believe that when I see it. Where are you? I thought you were on a date?"

Pussycat-:"Later, later not till he gets off work. I'm with my girls."   he actually meant his drag queen friends. When he's with actual female friends he calls them by their names. "Pub crawling doll. Tell me!"

Me-:"God, I don't even know anymore."

Pussycat-:"We're going to the next one now cause, it's all good baby. I've got your instagram up dolly. I'm going to be your fairy godmother get it. Fairy. I'm your fairy god drag mother."  he mumbled something I couldn't catch and ended the call.

Here's the thing about Valentine's Day. Most people don't realize it started off as a pagan fertility rite. Names would be put into a bucket or bowl or what have you, and people would randomly draw a name, then go off and have sex. So if a half dozen couples had been trying for a long time to have kids, and nothing was working, this was their chance to see who was the cause of not having kids, without cheating. Really romantic right? Some places used masks instead of the draw. Which is where part of the whole masquerade ball came from. Party goers would have these elaborate masks and without knowing who, they would hook up with someone. Good in some ways I suppose, bad in others.  And lets not forget the fact, the sex rites were to make sure the crops were good for the coming year. Sex magick is still the best way to add energy to a spell.

Pussycat called back shortly after 8pm. Again, asking me what my ideal man would be. Again, mumbling something and having the call end. I think he was trying to show people photos while still trying to talk on the phone? Yeah, like I said, he's already drunk.  Which is sad in itself. When I met him, he had been two years sober. Now, he's toasted a lot.

So while he's being him tonight, I'm sitting here listening to the neighbours sneak into the hallway, and talk to the people they are having affairs with, or the girlfriends they have out of town, while the other neighbours fight over what restaurant they are going to, and why they feel disappointed by the lack of attention. Etc, etc, etc.

He called again while I was typing this.

Me-:"Norman Reedus. I like guys who look like Norman Reedus."   well, doesn't everyone?  He wouldn't know who any of my wrestlers are so there isn't a point in telling him.

No comments:

Post a Comment