Wisps Posts Tagged as 'Mother'
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MOTHER: you never give a man a compliment unless he's dying. 21-Jul-2021
During my summer youth, my mother was reprimanded to therapy for attempting suicide. She claims it was my fault for telling the hospital she'd tried it before. My sister told me the only way she was going to stop attempting suicide for attention was if she got help. Every Thursday, after her appointment, she'd come home and beat the crap out of me. I asked her why and she said, "for making me lie to the therapist." It was her therapy from therapy. I was so happy when therapy ended. The abuse didn't stop but panic on a schedule was worst than a random hit. 23-Jun-2021
The idea of sharing neighborly grief and sentimentality with food is a common tradition that our family never followed. Dished food was constantly being brought to our home with gestures of warmth and or greetings yet remained untasted. At funeral gatherings my mother would throw out the stranger's food and keep only the family's. When the strangers inquired about their food my mother showed them the empty dishes. "It was so good the people gobbled it up." There was always an excuse. She didn't like what they said, they appeared unclean, smelled, had cats, were old, of another race or white. Mrs. Brady would have no chance at delivering "other food" to our mouths.
Our mother turned eating out into shopping for a restaurant. She wanted to make sure it was clean and comfortable and that more than two people were eating there. She didn't want to appear uncool.
Before she died, my stepfather's mother made some of his favorite dishes. We drove to pick them up. They were neatly packed in containers and my stepfather was excited to bring the food home and share it with us but mother smelled something foul in the car on our way home. I smelled nothing. Is it coming from those containers?! Throw them out! Those containers are not coming inside my house! They're poison. Throw them out or you're not getting back in the car! My stepdad deflated as he dumped the last taste of home and I felt so bad for him. It's his mother's food and he's the only one obligated to eat it and if he wants to relive a fond memory, he should goddam be able to. Mother! Go into another room while he gobbles it down. I'll clean it up. I told her that and she yells at me "yeah, but you don't know these people." (Spells and shit.)
I've never held to her philosophy and as an adult enjoyed much food by hospitable strangers and neighbors and obviously never died. My mother was afraid someone else would usurp her talent. 01-May-2021
My mother schooled me so forcefully about trans people that for a minute, I became a Republican. Wow, the legendary fagbasher learned all the LGBTQ pronouns. My mother can accept all the letters of the gay alphabet as long as they're not closely related to her. Thank God, I was only one letter.
Mother: a man can never love a man the way a man loves a woman. It's not possible. 16-Apr-2021
My amazon primate (my mother) didn't allow masturbation in the house. "It's unclean." It's why no internet, computer or any other hostile sex conducting tech ever made it to our house or our poor stepfather. If I were Spider-Man it would take her two weeks to find out, she would destroy all my tech, burn the costume in front of me and marry Jonah Jameson.
Mother: there is no need for men to masturbate. That's what women are for. 15-Apr-2021
I was under 25 living a fantasy gay lifestyle with my perfect partner in Brooklyn. I lived 20 blocks from my mother and my newly appointed stepfather. It was like living in a colorized version of "I Love Lucy." Yes, I was as corny as all of you once.
Mother calls hysterical. We had to come over. We were just there. What happened?
Rewind: my stepfather wanted to be more seductive for my mother so he called us for advice. My Russian advised him to get her flowers, lay them out, get a thong and strip for her. I agreed it might be fun for her. It was all the craze and my stepdad had the body.
FF: a family dinner was the event where he decided to put sexy daddy in motion. I was flabbergasted but I didn't want to embarrass him and or hear the wrath of mom. I watched as he stripped to a thong and ran her out into the kitchen. He automatically proceeded to dance and strip for my lover and I. Dude, my lover was getting into it. I slithered into the kitchen before my stepdaddy lap dance, checked on mom and she was furious. "That fuckin' maricon." Men don't do that shit. I'm humiliated. I apologized and told her it was my fault and that I thought it would be cute. I didn't know he was going to take it so seriously. She softened, laughed and whispered that "he used to be a bouncer at gay clubs. That's where he learnt the moves. (I didn't know bouncers had to bounce.) He says he never did anyone there but after today I'm not so sure." My mother accepted it as a joke, stepfather got dressed, we ate hardy, laughed ridiculously and went home.
Mother: Something's wrong with your stepfather, he's beating himself up,"como un loco." I think it's an army thing.
I was what? I returned to mother's and he was indeed beating himself to a pulp. He was punching himself and body slamming his head against the walls. We restrained my bloody step and stored him in a room away from my mother.
Step: your mother... (he couldn't speak)
Me: why were you punching yourself dad?
Step: (crying) because she pushed all my buttons and I wanted to hit her. I made a promise to myself that I would never hit another woman, ever, so instead of punching her, I punched myself.
Mother: pendejo. He really is an idiot isn't he? (She laughs. Ok. I laughed too.) I would rather he hit me and prove that he's a man instead of acting like this. (More laughter.) Your father knew how to corral a woman. I liked that. That's the kind of man I want. Not this. You have some of that too. (Ha!)
I asked he if she got off on it and she said yes. Out of the blue...she admits Osama Bin Laden gave her wet dreams. "There is something about that man. Don't you think?" (I was speechless. Why is she telling me this shit?)
I've taken her to countless hospitals with boyfriend injuries and interceded physically to save her life and she gets off on it? The hurt, the police, the pity, the crying, the worry, the danger, the attention, the fraud, the violence all for a tickle? 05-Mar-2021
I was dreading the call after the whitewashing incident but every Holiday must be observed and I must answer when mother calls. It started with a celebration of how she diagnosed my stepfather's stroke two days ago. The doctor confirmed it today. "I can diagnose shit right away," she brags. Obviously, not in enough time to call the ambulance when he was skidding all over the kitchen. We hit Corona next. Did she hear that Florida was having a surge? No, she did not but she saw wild parties on the news that disturbed her. Because mama had surgery and stepdad just stroked I recommended social distancing for a while. "For how long?" As long as it takes, mother. "Well, I can't live like that... in a cage. Besides, that only happens if you have 200-300 guests." True but every family member has a different job, with opposing safety methods, families with other families and friends with other friends and jobs and children. It's not safe. "I'm not living in fear!" "It's for your grandchildren's protection too," I said. Don't you care about them?" Nope, God will watch over us. We've done fine until now." I said luck runs out. Voices reached Mariah pitch, feelings were unraveled and hate was all that remained. I reiterated the white boy assumption and she claimed she never said it but confirmed I was not black. She chose a random green color to describe me. Kermit? I told her she was ashamed of marrying a Black Puerto Rican and she hyperventilated the pointy part of the island flag into my brain. We weren't listening anymore, just yelling at each other like the neighbors from "Network." She told me I didn't have a heart. I only had heart for the dicks that kidnapped and raped me. I told her its because my family sucked. " I bet you never fought them like you're fighting me!" I got the life I deserved because I never followed her advice. "But I did!"Her life was my education and downfall. (Hurt emoji) 01-Jan-2021
I cured my mother of whitening me like toothpaste. I used a racist factual history rinse with a white witness to counter her tooth decay. You can call or text them, mother. (Sorry guys. ) They were there. They will confirm. "Oh no, I'm sure it happened," she claims. (Sorry again guys, don't answer.)
My mother was forced to marry my father to cut whatever hold/hate my grandmother had on/for her. Mother was a wild woman in love with the village chunk that my grandmother despised and didn't want near. Daughter's energy needed stifling. I don't know the details but an agreement was struck between my father and abuelita that sent my mother out of Dodge and a better life but away from her fairy tale cowboy. That guy erupted during our preteen years. On a vacation to Puerto Rico before a "real daddy" makeup session stopover, she introduced us to the man that inhabited her hometown and her dreams. He came out of nowhere and hit us like rockets. She praised him like the most handsomest superhero but he was just a cowboy. Hotdiggity, he was available to see her again and her children after all this coincidental time apart. I was not pleased but my sister was furious. During meet and greet mother commented that my sister and I would have looked like his children had she married him when she was supposed to. It's the only time my sister and I did science together. "If we were white!" "Thank God, he wasn't our father! We would have been ugly!" is what my sister said. My sister's plan was to disrupt their honeymoon dinner and sabotage any chance of them canoodling secretly. We spent the whole night running from balcony to balcony rudely interrupting. It's too bad. The food was delicious and the atmosphere was grand.
My mother can't face the idea that she married a black Puerto Rican.
Oh, Oh... to fully annoy her, I called Trump papi. Like "papi Trump got us more money." 30-Dec-2020
Mother's stratagem to keep a working daddy closer is to never let him know he was doing a banging good job. "Make them sweat, make them wonder but if you want to keep 'em don't ever tell them how great they are." I got it. The more a man thinks he's great the more chances of fulfilling the crippling desire to open other people's presents. Irk that one good spot left in his brain and he'll keep coming back around to try to figure it out. I can see a woman's idea of entrapment there. It suddenly occurred to me to accidentally apply it to a guy I was dating. He was daddy perfection and ejaculatory squish. After an aerobic session he asked me to concur that is was one of our best. Even though it was, I told him I had better. He topped himself every single time and I always answered the same. Why did I do that? I sadly dumped him because he was a camper. He kept threatening that we couldn't extend our relationship unless I went camping with him. Black daddies and city Puerto Ricans don't do woods. It doesn't make sense. He was one of the greatest but I don't camp.
My step-father must wonder with every dying breath, "why did l try so hard? She was never satisfied." 21-Dec-2020
My sister and her brood are coercing my ailing mother and my heart replacement stepdad to enjoy Thanksgiving with her sons and their children, wives and friends. You know, like Oprah taught. There will be lots of hugging, plenty of food, loss of cognition, diaper twerking and a death right. They are immune because family love and God conquer all. Good job, Spanish news. Happy fucking Thanksgiving! (I'm mad!) 22-Nov-2020
An effect of sexual abuse is that you inherit a victim's persona even if you've surpassed it and predator abusive comprehension. The survivors are damaged goods pretending to blend into a world that's flashed forward around you. Our vulnerabilities succumb to the first clever wolf that help incorporate us into the new world so that we fit in and hate it. To cope, we become the victims they are. They are our daddy saviors. We think that the next one will fix what the other one did because this one is different. At least half of my LTRs were straight men with penchant for wee ones. They were not in denial about their sexuality they were just hiding. I happened to hit the jackpot.
My mother finished ex violence with more violence. The end to my abuse was to sucker punch the croc in the middle of Manhattan for stalking me at work and every where else. He fell down as a grandmother yelled "yeah, punch that old motherfucker!" She didn't even know our business. Everyone surrounded me to make sure I was all right and he ran off bloodied and embarrassed. MY mother and I never saw our stalkers again, my mother's broken bones and heart healed, her ex's bones got WWF broken and I moved back to my mother's house. I re-encountered my mother's ex, riding on an unlighted subway car after work. I wasn't sure until we descended from the tunnels and out into outdoor light. It was him, he had healed and was seething. His eyes bore through me and I felt a chill and a scent. Every flicker of light cast a Hitchcock shadow as I froze for fuck's sake. I had beat him once but it was a tough battle. Illegal drugs made him Hulkean. Even lesbian cop kickassers couldn't bring him down. He stared eerily at me through the longest ride of my life. (I will not bore you with rest.) 27-Oct-2020
I came out to my mother when I was 17 years old and no longer residing in her household. I didn't expect a good reaction so I called her on a public phone and announced it to her. She cried, became quiet and told me she suspected it but that she loved me, no matter what. I didn't have to lie to mother anymore. It was freeing. I visited her a few days later. She had time to absorb and ponder having a gay son. She cried again, I asked why and she said because being gay meant I was destined for a miserable life. That's impossible, it was such an overwhelming feeling to be me. I had to prove her wrong. She asserted conditions for my new identity: no meeting of "my men," I must continue to have a masculine presence, especially around family and don't get sick. I ignored her, introduced her to every one, told as much of the family as I could bear and kept my masculinity in check.
My mother recently confided to me that she used to receive dick pics from my croc daddy in the US mail while I was living with him. I thought, he might have done it as revenge for my unwillingness to absorb giant dick pain and or tricking him into being a gay bottom. When I took him to Gay Pride he cried because he thought I mistook him for one of those. He was straight. His shit was no joke but he was. A child molester was my educator and entrance into the gay world. I also figured my mother and I were even. Her boyfriend tried to brutally rape me. Mother's boyfriend was two years older than me, my croc daddy was 55. Our boyfriends shared the same culture, understood the nuances that make people vulnerable, and always seemed to be creepily plotting something sexual for us. Neither man represented our community. They were perverts sidling up to mommies so they could play with their children. (Now I know why she tried to cut him out of my photo albums.) I understand her comments and I realized her concern. My gay education came from perverts. The community hates itself more than the media loves it. Clicks work for a minute, the families we create are fake and we all die alone. We need less "Boys In The Band" depression and more gay reality awareness so we can come up with better coping mechanisms. Not smile at weirdos taking advantage of us because of politically correct etiquette.
I apologized to my mother. My croc stalked me, stole from us, used me, beat me up, tied me up and raped me. Afterwards, he thought of not releasing me because he was afraid I would kill him. You bet your life! But I had no choice, I begged for my life, stroked the psycho's ego and he loosened one arm while he Soniced out of the apt. I was stalked by my ex, my mother was stalked by her ex and I was stalked by both exes. I spent a lifetime trying to prove mother's sentiment wrong but in the end, she was right.
(Pic of my daddy croak included. Mother destroyed my croak dic picks but y'all can ask mother if she kept her copy.) 26-Oct-2020
I miss mother/son activities like squishing birds together. 19-Sep-2020
"All" men are perverts! 16-Sep-2020
I asked my mother why she didn't gloat to her senior compatriots about her son having served the President and she said never. They would kill her while doing the laundry. (Give me a break. She's in Florida surrounded by Cubans.) 01-Sep-2020