I was recently invited to my High School Reunion. I am not going to tell you which reunion we just celebrated. It will date me. I chose not to go. I had other business to attend to. The strangest thing happened to me when I attended my ten year high school reunion. I attended it alone. I left my ex-husband at home. I felt good about attending, wearing a slimming, tight, black cocktail dress.
I enjoyed talking to old classmates and catching up. It wasn’t very long into the evening when I ran into two, old friends. They married soon after High School. I had been friends with the wife and had a crush on the husband when I was in High School. During the middle of the evening, they bought me drinks. I didn’t want to indulge because I had to drive a long distance home.
“Come on… have a drink, “My old classmate, nicknamed Mr. Drunky Mc Glow, encouraged me.
“Yea,” his wife, the woman who had always been known as a rebel, boomed in, “You can stay at my house, if you don’t want to drive home tonight.”
I believe I drank a small amount of Captain Morgan and Coke shortly after this couple persuaded me to join them for a drink. I don’t like the taste or effects of alcohol, so I sipped slowly, cringing when I swallowed. My head was dizzy – my judgment felt impaired, as I rode as a passenger in the backseat of this couple’s vehicle after the reunion was over. I am sure that they had consumed more alcohol than I, but were used to the effects of alcohol. I wasn’t.
After we arrived to this couple’s home, said goodnight, I drifted off to fall sleep on their large, living room couch shortly after we arrived at their suburban home. They had three to four children who were sleeping in their bedrooms. I can’t recall the exact count. My head was light and airy from the alcohol. The room was spinning madly. I wanted to barf, which I did in the bathroom, moments after lying down. I felt miserable. Suddenly I was jolted awake and alert when I heard Mr. Drunky Mc Glow exit his bedroom. His middle aged body was so white that he glowed in the dark. My heart beat like a wild rabbit in hiding from a fox, when I heard him stumble up the steps to the second landing of his home.
“This cannot be fucking happening!” I think to myself. “Shit!”
Soon I feel him slide his body next to mine on the couch.
“Give me a blow job,” Potent fumes of alcohol permeate his intoxicated request.
“I don’t even suck my husband’s cock, what makes you think I’m going to suck yours?” I replied. I was married to Mr. D.A. who loved to push sex upon me as I slept – relentlessly. He only cared about his needs. I wasn’t going to suck a man’s dick who has does nothing in return for it and was completely disrespectful.
Mr. Drunky Mc Glow was not offering me anything. He just wanted his dick sucked. He wouldn’t leave me alone. He was an alcoholic mess. I had to push Mr. Drunky McGlow’s body off of me, get off the couch, go downstairs, and wake up his wife.
“I’m not sucking your husband’s cock. You need to get him off the couch.” I insisted with irritation scratching my throat and urgency pushing my words upwards like surges of vile vomit. Mrs. Drunky McGlow is in a drunken haze, but irritated.
“You dumb shit!” I heard her scream with vengeance, stumbling up the steps. “I told you that Mia wouldn’t suck your dick. Get back in bed. She told me that she won’t even suck her husband’s dick. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I don’t mind sucking an appreciative, stiff dick. I enjoy giving oral stimulation very much when someone shows me respect and that they intensely enjoy my talent. It’s quite the powerful sensation to make someone feel amazing. I still refuse to suck a man’s dick if he does not earn my respect. It takes all the fun out of doing it.
After I managed to get Mr. Drunky McGlow off the couch, returned to his bedroom, and my pulse slowed down, I finally drift off to sleep again. I was awakened very early in the morning with loud cartoons blaring on the television and several, small children with messy hair and faces, who were fighting over which cartoons they should watch and what dry, sugary cereal to eat. It was a rude awakening observing them a few feet away from me. I couldn’t leave until the parents woke up to drive me to my vehicle. I was stuck with the kids for a few hours. This weird, very strange experience, attending this class reunion was definitely a memorable one.
I did something terrible in high school. I was fearful of gay people. It was the 1980’s. The fear of AIDS lingered like thick fog in the air. I had been freaked out because I had gym class with a girl who appeared like a boy. I had no idea that I’d grow up to adore butch girls when I was fifteen. I didn’t understand my hate and anger I had towards this person who did nothing to me. She only appeared different in a way I misunderstood.
I bullied this poor girl. I chased her in the hallways. I waited for her to exit class and I beat her up. I felt awful about my horrible behavior as I began to understand and feel comfortable with being bi-sexual, numerous years after high school.
I attended my last high school reunion, five years ago. I met up with a childhood friend I had known since elementary school. I sat with her as we ate dinner. I felt like a jack ass when I saw the butch appearing girl I had beat up in High School, sitting across from me. She was friends with my childhood friend. I wanted to apologize right away, but new that it was not an appropriate time. I felt like an idiot. Afterwards, I discovered this person on Facebook, sending her a long apology letter and explained why I had targeted her. This woman became a very reputable, highly talented, LGBT Mystery writer. I was impressed at her accomplishments, as well as her ability to accept my apology and move beyond the hate I had once exhibited towards her. Mystery/Detective novels are one of my favorite genres to indulge in. If only I had a crystal ball in high school to foresee my future. I would’ve behaved differently.
I’m at a comfortable stage in my life where I don’t feel the need to impress anyone. It was one of the big reasons I didn’t attend this last reunion, which was a few weekends ago. It wasn’t important to me. I wanted to use my time towards making my dreams materialize, as well as using the money I would’ve used to attend, to get me closer to achieving what I desire. It feels great to be at this stage in my life – even when I feel I’m hurdling some of the most difficult obstacles in my life.
I will write soon to tell you about the Picasso Project, why it halted, and finding my ability and inner strength to hurdle obstacles.
Bisous, Mon Amour,