Tag Archives: gay

A dirty mind is a Joy forever.

This story is a flash fiction challenge written for the Terribleminds; chuck wendig weekly challenge. We were given an image of the new cover of  Roald Dahl’s “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”. We were asked to ignore the title and tell the story we saw in that image. We were given roughly a 1000 words. I must admit I’m slightly over…

A dirty mind is a Joy forever.

Well? What do you think of her? Doesn’t she look absolutely gorgeous in that pink mink? I simply had to have her photographed in that. And me in a matching outfit next to her of course. I bought that mink last week for her 6th birthday the day before yesterday. We are having a party for her on Sunday. Don’t worry. I didn’t forgot to invite you. The invite is in the mail. We decided only yesterday to throw her a party. We really weren’t sure at all if we’d celebrate this year. I mean she has been so sickly lately. I wasn’t sure if she could handle a party well. But the last few weeks have been good for her. So I think it’ll be fine to throw her a small birthday party. Besides a little fun never hurt anybody, right?

Is it wrong of me to feel a little bit awkward still about, you know, adopting her? It’s been 5 years now. Don’t get me wrong! I love her to death. But I haven’t been able to let go of the idea that she is somebody else’s biological child. Or maybe it’s because Hugh gave her to me to keep me quiet.

I didn’t tell you?! I’m sorry, I thought I did! Hugh gave her to me to keep me quiet about his affair with the pool boy. Or at least, I think he did. I never actually told him I know. I was holding on to that juicy tidbit for desperate times. You know he can’t afford anybody to know about his real sexual proclivity. Of course I suspected such a thing a good while before that. We never had a wild sex life to begin with, but by then I felt like nothing but a coat hanger in the house. Part of his coming home routine. Well, if only I was actually part of such a routine. Maybe then I wouldn’t have resorted to extra curricular activities myself. On a positive note, I never have to fear getting pregnant by the wrong guy, being as infertile as I am. My ovaries are so barren they’d suck a man dry because of it. Did I just say that?! I’m sorry, the whole thing always gets me so worked up. But you don’t mind, do you? You are my closest friend after all!

Anyway, I’m deviating from the story. One night I get home from a meeting at the Beverly Hills Women’s Club about some charity luncheon. Clarice had been serving the most awful German wine again. Why she keeps insisting on drinking that wine I will never understand. So naturally I head over to the wine cellar to grab a bottle of Pouilly Fumé to rinse that horrific taste out of my mouth with. Well, to get from the front door of the house to the wine cellar in our house, you go through the living room. And, as you know, our living room has big glass doors that you can open to gain access to the garden and the pool. But you can also see the pool house from there. And as I walk passed I notice the doors being opened and instinctively I look outside while I’m walking. That’s when I notice the lights in the pool house being turned on. Which was odd to me, as I didn’t remember any guests staying in the pool house that night. So I turn to walk outside to go and have a look at why the lights were on over there. As I approach the pool house I notice people inside of it. My pace slowed down but I didn’t stop walking over there. I had to see who those people were. I remember realizing first what those people were doing before I realized who was actually doing it. I think I stood there a good full minute just looking inside. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I couldn’t believe he could do those things to begin with! But that’s beside the point. There he was, with Rodriguez, our pool boy. Well, he wasn’t our pool boy for very long after that. I saw to that of course.

But in that moment things became clear for me. Why we lasted this long and why he hadn’t divorced me yet. I was his cover to the outside world. As long as I was playing the good housewife and going to meetings like the Beverly Hills Women’s Club charity luncheon, nobody would suspect anything wrong with our marriage. Well, that’s if you disregard our marriage being childless. So in a way I owe my current lifestyle to Rodriguez, whom I had deported after I caught him with my husband. You see, our marriage was a marriage of convenience arranged by our parents. My dad made me marry Hugh so that his father would be obliged to invest in my father’s company. His father, who probably already knew of Hugh’s sexual proclivity, was all too happy to see him get married to me. Back then I was a nice girl. I looked good and I had a good and sweet reputation. I was well educated, but not too ambitious. Perfect marriage material for the heir to a multimillionaire’s financial empire. But his father wasn’t stupid. He had me sign a prenuptial agreement the day before we were to get married. In that agreement it says that I have no rights to anything in the event we should get divorced if the marriage is childless at that moment. By then I was so enthralled in the idea of getting married to this handsome rich boy, I would have signed my life to the devil himself. In all honesty I can’t blame Hugh of ever being evil to me. But our marriage has never been very warm and fuzzy. Until that night I always believed that was because I wasn’t attractive enough for him. That or the sneaking suspicion that his sexual proclivity lay elsewhere. Sure we had sex. But mostly because it was expected of us. He had an obligation to the world to produce children as well. And one is supposed to produce them with one’s wife off course. So once a month, when I was supposedly the most fertile we had sex. Or we went through the motions of having sex at least. I’m not sure he even actually finished ever time. After a few years of that, and peer pressure from his father and others around us, we went to the doctor to find out why I wasn’t getting pregnant still. That’s when I found out I can’t have children because I basically have no eggs to speak of. After that we didn’t have sex at all anymore. And a year later I found him in the pool house with Rodriguez. And less then a year after that we were adopting Joy. Somehow he must have found out that I found out about him. I picked a girl just to spike him and his father. Hugh tried exactly three words of disagreeing with my choice before letting go of it.

Maybe I should write a thank you note to Rodriguez, to thank him for getting me out of that prenuptial. What do you think?






Sneak a peak

A friend of me recently started using an app on his mobile that allows him to contact people that are physically within a certain range of him. The app displays a photo of the guy and a few basic statistics about him.  Then if you like what you see and he is close enough to your own location, you can contact him via the chat function. If you don’t see anybody to your liking within a few miles from your own location you can have the app widen the range for you until you do find someone that you might like. Now all this sounds rather dry and impersonal. And to a certain degree it is. But that is also where part of the fun of using these sites comes in.

When he showed me the app I found myself thrilled about it. And we had a lot of fun going through the photos of the guys on there. Laughing and making up stuff about them just from the look of them on the picture. Now this, I think, is one of the initial attractions of these sites. You can look at a person online and scrutinize everything they posted about themselves without having to deal with any repercussions from this, like having to explain why you are ridiculing a person or why you are really attracted to a person.  You get to compare people to each other and to yourself, without ever having to talk to them. It feels a bit like being a fly on their wall for a short period of time and finding stuff out about them that in real life you might never get to know unless you really want to find out. You get to be a voyeur in other people’s lives and see and hear stuff about them you might otherwise never get to hear. One question remains though; “what is it about this voyeurism that is so enticing to people?” Is it the fact that people get to see other people’s flaws and mistakes and use those flaws as an excuse to diminish their own flaws and mistakes? Is the real fun of voyeurism hidden in a craving of people to point out other people’s mistakes and flaws and in doing so divert attention in that way from their own flaws and mistakes?

Gay and atheist

Tod, my boyfriend whom I love and trust and want to be with for the rest of my life, sometimes asks me why I don’t believe in God. Why I am an atheist. Here is the answer I never gave him.

Sometimes I wish I did believe in God, or a god. Sometimes, when life just isn’t fair and slams another sledgehammer into my skull, I just yearn for the comfort of having a belief like that, a conviction. But I don’t. My brain won’t accept the idea of an omnipotent being that can still be consciously (!)constantly creating and destroying, well, everything.

Maybe that is the limit of my thinking ability. Maybe that is where I cannot conceive of there being “more”. I do mean more in the most unrestricted manner possible, since I can’t conceive of what it might be. Does that make me free, or at least more free then 95% of the world population? Or does that limit me more than 95% of the world population?

I have some fancy reasoning for God, or the concept of God, to be not true. But the argument that really convinces me every time is the simple question: ”If God really exists and can do all these things, why then can he, or it,  not visit me like an equal and have a descent conversation with me to let me know who he is and that he actually exists.  If he really is omnipotent, he should be able to do that too, don’t you think? He should be able to convince me of his existence in a proper conversation, face to face. Why is that too much to ask? And for the argument’s sake I do like to confirm my desire for him, or it,  to visit me like an equal because since he is supposed to be omnipotent, he, or it,  should be able to do everything.

I watch a show like “Saving Grace” and at time I actually feel like crying because some of the things that they talk about on that show really hit a nerve in me, like love and loss and all kinds of pain. And then Grace has this angel to guide her through the rough stuff. She can actually talk with this angel and touch him and be angry at him and happy and what not. And she can feel like she’s actually connected to the source of whatever has happened to her, this source being God of course, through her angel. And then I cry because I don’t have this in my life. I watch that show and I feel so lonely, so left out. And it is not fair to make me feel like that, just because I cannot do what 95% of the world population can do. I cannot believe like most people. I cannot convince myself of the existence of God. And he, or it has never, successfully, done so for me either.

I am a gay atheist, and neither of those I am by choice.


Since I wrote this back in januari a lot has happened in my life. My father suddenly passed away, about which I write in other blogposts aswell. His passing has sort of confirmed my convictions as mentioned in the above post. I am more then ever convinced that there is no God or at least there is no God that is like people believe “it” is. This God that people seek out is nothing like any scripture on earth most likely, as it probably has no reason to be concerned with little beings like us. And even if it does, the reason is most likely far less to do with anything remotely human then we would like it to be.

One of the things I’ve learned also is that I am not an atheist perse but an apatheist.

From Wikipedia: Apatheism (a portmanteau of apathy and theism/atheism), also known as pragmatic atheism or (critically) as
practical atheism, is acting with apathy, disregard, or lack of interest towards belief or lack of belief in a deity.
Apatheism describes the manner of acting towards a belief or lack of a belief in a deity; so applies to both theism and
atheism. An apatheist is also someone who is not interested in accepting or denying any claims that gods exist or do
not exist. In other words, an apatheist is someone who considers the question of the existence of gods as neither
meaningful nor relevant to his or her life.

No evidence
This argument takes a more scientific perspective, criticizing blind faith (faith without logical evidence to support it).
It argues that if God wanted people to believe in him, he could show off his existence with miracles, and explain to
humans what he wants us to do. Being all powerful, if he truly wanted humans to believe, he could send a divine
sign. Since he does not seem to care if humans believe or not, apatheists will not care until he shows them a reason

I stand corrected as, clearly, I am an apatheist.

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