Wisps Posts Tagged as 'Myself'
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IN THE ORIGINAL STORY, PINOCCHIO KILLED JIMINY CRICKET
I was raised by Amazons. The women in my life were hierarchy. I was trained that all men are scum but they pay the rent so we have to put up with them. You may keep the ones that tickle the ivory longer than the ones that can pay the rent but that is an individual choice. I was going to be unique. I'd be raised as a boy with a female alpha mentality.
The only boyish thing I did was have sex with other boys/men. Ooh, that sounds girlish too. I did no boy things.
If we are allowed to accuse and punish we should be able to examine what weirds/drives them out. Changing what men hate should be a self realization and a compromise. I wanted out of girly world. I have a dick and I am nothing like them. I am not a girl. I wanted to be a boy like Pinocchio. (Scariest story ever because it's depraved and life has no happy ending and the "real" book made me hate it because it was my truth but it gave me hope. I will not be a schmuck puppet.) They never realized there was a boy underneath until the neighbors told them so. "Why isn't your boy married?" I became a lie that thrived but disappointed when I revealed the truth.
The men that popped up occasionally were full of drink, exhaustion, perversion and hate. The men bestowed me wisdoms about "you know who" and tips on how to sneak in extracurricular sex but then they disappeared or died. The parties were masquerades except when the tired broke free and exposed an ugly truth. The fairytale lasts as long as it takes a kid to fall asleep. Flirting, cheating and fights aplenty. The boys kept playing at Prince Charming while the women took credit for it. Somebody got laid, crowned, a new home and family whilst the other, got her rent paid. The kids were either in on the plan or out.
My mother and sister cured me of lying by aggressively harassing me. I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. I told a lie and got beat up, I told the truth and got beat up. I decided to tell the truth so it could mean something.
My stepfather stopped talking after his heart attack. He can but won't. He is so afraid to misspeak or insinuate the wrong thing to offend female empowerment that he stopped talking to my mother and everyone in the family because he can't handle the stress. He is being raised by Amazons. The exact same ones as I. He is a dumb alpha ex-jock stuck in a girly world and it's his punishment for cheating with whores. (Yeah, but he paid the rent!)
Mary Richards is my favorite feminist. She didn't want to downgrade men, she wanted to join them. She liked men. Lou the alpha respected her and everybody else adored her. Female empowerment is not about being a "Queen." If you want to be a Queen move to England. All's fair in love and war. That doesn't sound equal to me. We must remember that when "he" declares it. 02-Apr-2021
One of my exes was a twin with an elder that came out gay at different times in their lives. Historic. Mother was a hard woman with a warm heart. Daddy demurred with kind eyes and macho swagger. They were guido-jew fabulous and emotionally florid. My relationship with the family evolved. Rough and misunderstood initiations matured into love and sympathy. I became family.
My boyfriend's twin was straight during my integration. I guarded myself and respected his boundaries, we never said more than " hi, bye" even when he kept coming into the kitchen with his shirt off to distract us. Every time I visited, he strolled in like James Dean looking for soda while his mother screamed, "put a shirt on! We have guests!"
The twins were fraternal. His brother was Mercury godlike whilst my boyfriend was made at the Chucky factory (he was nuts! but I loved him. No wonder he was forever angry. Funny as fuck, though.) Anyway, we broke up and became close friends for many years. I never met the older brother because my ex thought he would steal me away. From myself? "But we're just friends." "Don't matter, I know him, you're his type. Forget about it." I did. In 30 years I've never met his eldest brother.
I saw pictures of his brother and spoke to him on the phone. Once again, he was cuter than Chucky but not as beautiful as the twin from another father. Wasted sweat on my ex's part.
My friend was dealing with our breakup by clinging to relationships that were unkind to his sensitivity. Straight twin confessed to letting my ex's Puerto Rican captive suck him off. They would drive my ex to therapy so he could repair his failing marriage whilst the brother and lover went at it in the car. I did not see that coming. It triggered 5 years of frustrating drunk friend retreads about how the love of his life sucked the cum out of his stupid brother. After failed ideations proved unrealistic, Mercury came out to everyone. 10 years later. He was the last brother to come out. The parents gave up their influence on all of their boys and dealt with what was determined. I admired them for that.
Years after coming out a "dashing squishier twin" and I finally had a conversation during a 30 Something Lifetime reunion. Yes, the walk through the kitchen was flirting. No, I thought he was straight. Definitely, we both wanted to. Why didn't either of us make a move? Because my/your brother would have killed us! We laughed nervously as Chucky glared at us. 27-Mar-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
GIF: they always find a way in.
My worst case scenario has come true. I have to relive the aspects of my life I was frightened to visit. I am a needy person. As such I need to acquiesce to the support (family) that saves, not the one of invention (gay.) I have faith now because how else could I survive. It is family prayer that gives me breath. But I don't believe. Stop the crap. This is why you suffer. Because you won't let him in. "But..." I give out benedictions and prayers to everyone as I crack inside. My mother cries that I never gave her a grandchild. I kiss God's lips for hearing me on that one. "Gay was a failure or you wouldn't have come crawling back." I didn't come crawling back. They tracked me down. I was made to believe gay would be beautiful, romantic and forever. I didn't know I was in a cesspool of perverts. My sexual predators are now bffs, the meanest people are my mentors and I keep asking what did I do so wrong? I wanted to die in peace. 27-Dec-2020
One of the most mystifying gifts my mother laid on me this year is for me to stop pretending to be black and just be white. She's never seen me as anything but, so it is so. Racism doesn't apply to me because she's always seen me as white. LOL. It was said in an advisory tone to offset future guilt. Head explosion. If I went outside right now and declared I was white they would shoot me. I'm not black because my hair don't kink, she says. (2 blunts.) My nephews and nieces are black because their fathers and mothers are really black. There are no black people in Puerto Rico. They're Indian. Body collapse. 25-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
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 broke up with a boy bander because he sang to me before sex and while showering. He was either humming or licking my face. I dug him, he whipped his braids back and forth and unleashed them in a soundless cavalcade of excitement but his vocal training took precedence over my feelings. So, I represented my Seinfeldian upbringing and broke his heart. I apologized profusely but I don't regret it. He deserved to be loved for it. I was a fan of his band music, encouraged his talent but being "sung to" is my Jerry "big hands" greatest fear. I just can't do it. 28-Sep-2020
I used to be the family go-to babysitter. You dare say its because my sister and I were the only colored ones and the kids were deathly afraid of her so I was the only choice? (Only the fear for my sis was real. I think.) I paid attention to them and weaved magical tales that released their imaginations. I showed them the place in my brain where they can go to find a choice and be safe. I shooed their nightmares away. I taught them to move forward to deepen the stories and find resolutions until they could run. It blew them away.
As adults they thanked me for being their only father figure. I was very touched and saddened. Everyone actually thought I'd be a great father one day. I did not. I worry too much. I know what really happens. I was a child, taking care of other children that needed to be entertained and protected. I lived the exact hardships so I handed them some survival tips.
I forget that I also co-parented a child. We (the gay daddies) applied everything social media deemed safe, respectful and representative of a new better world. I concocted favorite meals and experimental creations, picked up after it and endured its ills. We cheered and celebrated everything, we supplied, it demanded, its dads were bonkers but cool, its mother was nuts and married to Archie Bunker with scary reality boys but we kept the humor dry to help the teen laugh. My co-child and I shared music, games, TV and films. Its worries and thoughts I tried to comfort. It's teen brain no longer cracked but there were times I saw a glimmer of bonding in it. Then it grew up and become a Repnazi, realized my color and place and it all went to hell. It was A.I. beginnings with Damien: Omen II resolutions, right through the end. Awareness: most children do not want to be like their fucking parents and they will fuck you up.
Look at that, I had me some children. 25-Sep-2020
I didn't need to see my color on a Hollywood screen when I was growing up. I was a soul man. If they sounded like me and thought like me, I followed them. If they had life ideas worth retrieving I worshipped them. I devoured their art and shared beautiful things of greatness and fleeting joy. I've been idiotically and forcefully enslaved throughout my life. My lack of new etiquette is offensive because it was taught me by masters of social worship. Im just the asshole warning you with a smile. I've witnessed too many mommy (Biden) and daddy (Trump) fistfights to not predict its stupid end. (You can switch them around if that's your sexual fantasy.) I fought the war that got me here that gets passed down and gave me nothing. In my future, I live where heroes are not necessarily of my kind but helped create my heart, my soul, my joy and that thing that makes people wanna fuck you. It's a safe place for me to go. 23-Sep-2020
Just for the frack of it and because it's Sunday on the Galactica I would like to state that no trans, drags, beautiful damsels in distress, female porn stars, female strippers or my mother (thank God) has ever raped or been sexually inappropriate towards me. They flirted (not mother, she took her job seriously) and made cute but they never crossed sexy safety lines unless it was mutual. Let me see, who's left.. 20-Sep-2020