Three X’s but far from porn

There are times when I question my health. Not so much my liver, more so the lining of my stomach, and pancreas. I’ve already been diagnosed with an ulcer back around 2005’ish when excruciating stomach pain put me in the ER. And what a joy that afternoon was. If you don’t know anyone who’s been tested for an ulcer it’s a series of x-rays, a glorious morphine IV drip, a laxative, a white semi clear bucket specifically designed to go over the toilet for when the laxative kicks in, and a horribly disgruntled intern. Fun times. Retrieving the bucket is a job I imagine doctors give the intern they hate the most. 

Somewhere between ages 41 and 50 men unclench from homophobia and become absolute determined nut jobs who don’t want to die alone. If I was a lesser woman everything grossly contrary to maternal instincts I could easily manipulate...

Oh wait.

Look, I don’t want to die alone either. Or live alone. And sure I have the stray cat who comes and goes but I need more. That little fur ball won’t even hang out long enough to watch a complete movie. 

It’s a battle, you know. Good and evil. Which monster is more powerful. Good is just as much of a monster as evil. 

Someone recently said to me, “Men who move to Vegas couldn’t cut it anywhere else.” The person who said that was a male friend of mine from Wisconsin. Not Aramis. He still lives in Studio City.

Next month will be 7 months I lived in this apartment. It still feels like I just moved in. I have no idea what I’m doing here anymore.

Living.

Breathing.

Dying.

I’m meeting a man for drinks today who has three X’s in his name. Not his real name of course. It’s his James Bond internet name. When you come to Vegas, a man must have a cool James Bond three X’s internet name. 

I don’t know what my name is anymore. I’m not even sure it’s the name I sign on my artwork. 

But Mr three X’s doesn’t eat fish or sushi. 

Sigh. Guess that means we’ll fall madly in love. 

Mahatma Christ, how hard is it to find a man who eats fish and sushi. 

If I can’t eat with you AND sleep with you, than this monster fight will have no bounds. 

Just once I’d like to put on lipstick like I’m not about to mate and murder a man. 

Metaphorically speaking.