The other day, I was explaining something to somebody and said, "You can't step in the same river twice." The river may look the same and flow in the same direction, but the water is always new. The bank might curve a bit differently and the river itself might even be deeper. My river changed dramatically yesterday. I can tell the effects will be far reaching although right now I'm not sure how.
I'm under the protection of The Man from San Antone again. That's an ancient expression, "under the protection." It was still in use during Victorian times to euphemistically describe the relationship between a man and his mistress. She was under his protection. That's not exactly the case with me and the Man from San Antone. Nevertheless, he is providing a much needed cash infusion. My therapist will be delighted to receive this news since I haven't paid her in six months, and most of the cash will be going straight to her. Some will be going towards mani/pedi, new boots and the Gemini Party. The maid, too, if he sends as much as I said I needed.
One of the primary reasons I was always astounded by HCW's conviction that I wanted to marry him is that if I'm going to get permanently mixed up with anyone, I'll go with the man who sends me five figures when I ask nicely. HCW, as I recall, thought he was generous for leaving behind a roach.
I am sincerely attached to HCW; I really am - even though he won't talk to me. I like all those other guys hanging around the periphery too. I especially like Woody since he's 2,000 miles away. At the moment, though, all I have to say is:
Somebody better tell the Man from San Antone that Velvet and Gigi have been circulating the story that The Man from San Antone is Gigi's birth father. They love this story. The first time Gigi met The Man from San Antone she told him he looked like a typical john. We were in a hotel bar talking about hookers at the time, so it's not like she pulled the comment out of nowhere. He acted offended and stomped off - but he was just going up to his room to get high without anyone tagging along. She was unrepentant and called him "daddy" all night long. She even told him that I needed new lingerie from La Perla, bless her heart, as if Le Perla makes anything that would hold up these old knockers.
Velvet was impressed by the Man from San Antone since he knows Charlie Wilson and has a nodding acquaintance with Willy Jeff Clinton in Vegas. Velvet also likes it that I backed The Man's Trans Am into a tree which resulted me being grounded from driving the Turbo Porche The Man then leased with his allowance. Now that I think about it, The Man from San Antone had a little Fiat Spider between the Trans Am and the Porche which I loved driving down Devil's Backbone down the the sailboat at Canyon Lake. I liked driving it through the tall grass going the back way to the beach, too. I wasn't allowed to drive the Maserati either, but it belonged to his brother.
In the end, maybe The Man from San Antone and I are more like siblings than a romantic couple. We always made a good couple, though. We make good partners, too. This whole thing has me thinking about the nature of relationships again. Going back to the spring, when I was thinking about the enduring nature of love (Stonerdate 05.24.09), a tree served as a metaphor instead of a river. The river is more about Life, The Universe and Everything than that tree on my terrace which was an anniversary gift to Buzz Kill and me right before we got divorced.
Buzz Kill and I are finally stabilizing into a more harmonious state - maybe because we've both finally got the freedom to grow into our own natures instead of living someone else's ideas. Neil Young has the right idea:
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