Unique. Odd. Strange. Different.

MSO doesn’t read my blog.  I don’t even think he knows it exists.  If he does, well, he’s too busy to notice otherwise.  So I guess I feel comfortable calling him out here.  If that’s what you can call this.  He’ll never admit it but, well, I feel it’s true so maybe it just might be tru.t

There is a strange thing in this life called love.  When you are loved you act differently.  I’ll be the first to admit that not all days do I feel as if MSO loves me or, laughably, even notices me.  He’ll argue in response, and quite contentiously, how can one not notice Copper.  The only red head in the room going on about the world and the people and things in it, most specifically how those things or people work.  What makes things tick.  She just won’t shut up with the questions.

Here’s the rub.  Being loved makes you throw caution to the wind.  I care less and less about what people think of me.  So what if you don’t like my rules.  They’re pretty standard rules in most other social orders similar to our situation.  Time to grow up.  I’m not moving on them because, well, they make sense and I’m tired of feeling guilty for asking other people to hold up their end of the bargain.  Asking people to follow through on their promises.  Asking people to act in a sensible, considerate and civil manner.  Nope, no more guilt.  Deal.

And then I’m done caring.

So what if I ride around town with a scarf tied over my head and ears.  Sorry everyone, the cold wind bothers my ears.  Yes, I may look like something out of the 1950’s.  Deal with it.  It’s a pretty comfortable and convienent method for me to care for my body.  And besides, I like silk and color.

I remember a conversation with MSO that was very upsetting to me some time back.  He said he didn’t care if I worked as a prostitute.  He actually asked me if I wanted to.  I’ll be the first to admit.  I was pretty upset.  The bottom line turned out that he didn’t WAN T me to, just that he has such and open mind and such a lack of social skills that for him that was a valid possiblity and if it made me happy, well then so be it.

I must laugh now.  A deep belly laugh.

So the upshot is that being loved makes me even stranger than I started out.

Scarey thought, eh?  (Don’t tell MSO, he’ll just laugh)


~ by mud on September 18, 2007.

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