Sex Affairs (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As I huddle next to Amber…knowing that she must be gay. Or, a very proud heterosexual woman. Thoughts of not too long ago rush by me like the pin up signs for our very cool walk in Winchester Virginia.
Not exactly sure why the Bears, AKA, Blue Beach Bombers, has volunteered our services for the occasion; I had been under the misconception that FEMA junior agents, we supposed to walk old ladies across the street if there had been a tornado approaching .
Oh, well, no matter, I’m here now and anywhere is better than Concord.
Again, I give the thumbs up when a picture is taken. I put on my Ambien Grace smile. A look that means I really am still anxious, I can’t stand groups and my social skills stopped growing in middle school.
Noticing Amber and her girth and her Momma bear smile, I think of others I have dated. The butch weight lifter who left me with no feeling in my breasts, the one night stand that left me wondering if I should just keep on drinking because what was lying next to me seemed to be in the process of changing genders.
Women can be shit. Take it from me.
I had the chance once or twice or three times, to meet Kate’s wife. She was cute as a button. Smart and earthy. She had been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia.
Yup, I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, when I see something I want I go for it and always get it. Had it occurred to me that taken someone else’s partner been an error in judgment? Well, if that were true, pursuing a woman who has deep ties to someone with disabilities most likely would qualify for a technical foul on Ambien Grace and toss her ass off the court.
Kris, Kate’s wife, had attempted to take 100 Benadryl one night.  All the while, I complained to Kate that she hadn’t been returning my texts. Now, I see a little less selfishness could have gone a long way.
Later that month, Kris had a seizure. My protest then;
‘I know this is bad timing but do you think I should buy a Cart hart jacket? Mummy doesn’t like them. She thinks it makes women look masculine. Are you there? What is it now? I just asked a simple question!’

Kate had been busy at the time checking Kris in at the emergency room.
Again, hindsight is 20/20!
I knew Kris had issues. I suppose I even should have understood them. Having been a recipient of therapy many times over, having been diagnosed with mania, borderline and suicidal tendencies, one would think I could give a little.
Yet I don’t. I never will. I couldn’t stand the fact that on numerous adult romantic occasions, Kate would answer her phone and tell Kris, ‘I love you!’
I never had a guardian angel. Someone to watch over me. I always had Mother Theresa, professor of professional heterosexuality and surface political correctness. I had no blood to call my own.
This little walk-a-thon in a nowhere but here town makes me sick to stomach. The idea of performing righteous work with no moral fiber is difficult and draining.
For my part, I avoid the group, stand off to the side and only speak when spoken to. Volunteering to clean up America one bag lunch at a time is hard the senseless soul. I want to cry to some of my new found and ‘real’ friends. I can’t because the voices carry me on every time.
How many lives did I destroy? Had I thought about the consequences? Did I care? And, more importantly, why am I blowing up balloons on a windy day?
So true what they say, ‘you shouldn’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.’

And, you shouldn’t need a geographical cure to avoid yourself, just take more Ambien!