ManBoys
Wondering: how did the higher power send me another boyfriend who is a manboy? I mean, it's not like I go looking for them. And it's such a weird coincidence.
Exboy lived somewhere and had a job, but didn't drive and was pretty reclusive. Now here stands Zach, has a job and is very social, plays a lot of golf, but lives in one of his parents' houses and due to the epilepsy, doesn't drive.
I continue to experience the staggering ways in which parents of people with disabilities oppress and discourage their children. With exboy it was as much because he was reckless as it was the brain injury. But with Zack, now that his parents are around, it's like cavalcade of don't do that. And it amazes me how much he complies at times. Like exboy, he has a widdle boy bed, and today he said something about getting a bigger one. I was all for that, and said that for my money, I'd put it on the other side of the room, under the window. Zack relpied that it used to be there, but his parents thought it was more dangerous to put it there because it would be near the closet.
Lord.
Last weekend we had sushi down on the dock, and when Zack's parents got home from their golf outing, his dad was at the top of the 150 steps, hollering down, "Zack? What are you doing down there? Who's with you?"
Really????
In other news, I had some dental work, and the dentist and hygienist abraded my tongue so badly that it hurts to the point that I want to cut some out. I hate how pain always causes me fantasies of amputation and extraction. There's some word for that, right, disassociative something? Woohoo!
Tomorrow I'm off to Chicago for Justyna's commencement! And then to St. Louis and house of Mykus!
Exboy lived somewhere and had a job, but didn't drive and was pretty reclusive. Now here stands Zach, has a job and is very social, plays a lot of golf, but lives in one of his parents' houses and due to the epilepsy, doesn't drive.
I continue to experience the staggering ways in which parents of people with disabilities oppress and discourage their children. With exboy it was as much because he was reckless as it was the brain injury. But with Zack, now that his parents are around, it's like cavalcade of don't do that. And it amazes me how much he complies at times. Like exboy, he has a widdle boy bed, and today he said something about getting a bigger one. I was all for that, and said that for my money, I'd put it on the other side of the room, under the window. Zack relpied that it used to be there, but his parents thought it was more dangerous to put it there because it would be near the closet.
Lord.
Last weekend we had sushi down on the dock, and when Zack's parents got home from their golf outing, his dad was at the top of the 150 steps, hollering down, "Zack? What are you doing down there? Who's with you?"
Really????
In other news, I had some dental work, and the dentist and hygienist abraded my tongue so badly that it hurts to the point that I want to cut some out. I hate how pain always causes me fantasies of amputation and extraction. There's some word for that, right, disassociative something? Woohoo!
Tomorrow I'm off to Chicago for Justyna's commencement! And then to St. Louis and house of Mykus!