Private Correspondence~Xtra~It's My Morning

Guess what? I’M MARRIED! For real, no joke.

On Thursday I asked Doc if he still wanted to marry me and he said yes, so I said then let’s do it right away, before I change my mind.

I was thinking that he and my brother both like golf and tennis and they fly, so in a biblical sense I could kill two birds with one stone. They could hang out together all of the time and leave me in artland.

I know I once thought I could find this dreamy love and some handsome loveman and we would be smiling our lives away together forever. That was last week. That was just some goofy girl dream I once had. Reality is reality. The one way to stop my brother from literally moving me out of here was to marry Doc. He likes Doc. He trusts Doc. The two of them should be married.

I was very angry last week. I am feeling less snippy now that I am on the right meds. Doc helped me there. He says he has the right meds for anything I will ever need. And whoever marries the person they really love anyway? Not many I would guess. Like Tina Turner said, “What’s love got to do with it?”

This way I can salvage my artgirl self. She’s the one I need to protect.

So what if Doc wants me to wear certain clothes and comb my hair and give parties. I can become a chameleon. One thing on the outside; another on the inside. And best of all I still get to have my freedom.

Well not completely.

Doc always said he would take me to Paris, to the Louvre (so I could finally see Mona “in the flesh” so to speak), on our honeymoon, but now he says an international get-away isn’t a good idea. Maybe in the spring. Makes sense.

And he thinks I am goofy about collecting my states so no to Washington, Oregon, and Alaska….for now. (I can always fly to my cousins, go down into Oregon and even catch a flight to Alaska. So, no biggie.)

He said Florida for a brief honeymoon for now. He’s the one in love so I think he should pick the place. Just give me water and I am cool.

Of course I can’t go to Austin in February with Kent. A married woman can’t be traipsing off on vacations with other men.

The bad part is that I may still need to sell my little house. My brother has a stranglehold on my money until I am 30. Fuck him. (Ironically a realtor from CL left a message on my machine about 3 weeks ago, saying that someone was interested in my house and would I be interested in selling it? Funny how things come together, isn’t it? Now if I can just retrieve that message.)

The good parts are:

1. (I had to delete this one, sorry, too personal.)

2. He says we can make a video now.

3. He says he will never withhold sex from me again.

4. He says he can get me any meds I need.

5. I finally have someone to put their arms around me…every single night.

6. We have some unusual facets to this union. Maybe one day I will share, then again, maybe not.

Here’s the best part: He knows that all of the silver jewelry I have been wearing since the election is my silent protest against fake presidents and every other bad thing now going on, so I asked if we could commission a silversmith to do our rings. He said YES! …well after telling me I deserved diamonds and platinum. Fuck that. The silver art rings will match my protest stuff. All of my feeble yellow gold is still in the safe deposit box.

Even better than that, he says he can make all of my bad dreams go away.

Plus we are going to have a big reception in May, my favorite month!

So I bet you can just feel how deliriously happy I am. Shout out to FREEDOM!

P.S. Next time I will tell you about the present he gave me. OOOO…wheeeeeeeeee! Wait! I don’t have it yet. It’s on order so I will show it to you when I get a pic of it. It fulfills one of my all-time dreams.

P.P.S. Isn’t it funny how he knew all along that one day I would say, Okay? He said he knew after that first night at Gabby’s wedding reception. He says the love part will happen for me too. I just need to give it time.

P.P.P.S. See the pic on this page...the guy looking in the mirror reminds me of Doc. I always knew it would be a man in boxers for me.


Long story,, I am not. A Clue Lurks In Hereon page 2-The Reality