Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

Today I finish my work week, and I'm off until April 6th. It's kind of a vacation but kind of not. It's not like when I went to Orlando last year for a week revolving around relaxing and fun. There's an agenda.
We are helping Cousin David and Mark move to Virginia. I think I've been in denial that they are really leaving. They've been my constant for so long that if I really thought about it I would scream and claw at my face. At best, most people are a distraction; nick-knacks that take up space where space is needed. True friends are a rare gift. The boys are the truest of friends. In my life they've been The Scarecrow and The Tinman...not sure that we ever ran into The Lion but that's real life for ya. For years they've kept me company, talked me off ledges, ignored my bad behavior, wiped my snotty nose, celebrated my successes,close calls and mistakes. They helped fix what was broken, rearranged furniture, made sure every party had a theme and never apologized for leaving body hair in my bathtub. They were by my side when The Crossdresser walked into my life and they fell in love as well. Happily Ever after. New Beginnings. At least we have phone calls and emails and visits to plan.
Helping them move is the least I can do for two I'm forever indebted to and besides, it's on the way to New York. A good coincidence, I suppose. My ex-husband has loaned me his big tough pick up truck and we'll move the rest of Jeanie's incidentals though the trip is mostly about Jeanie walking his Baby Sister down the aisle on her big white day. I've been moaning about it all week. Life is real enough without discovering that he really comes from some place; that he isn't just a manifestation created as a token of God's favor for me. He existed long before we met and now I must become familiar with that far away place. With that place comes a Mother and a broody moody bunch of sisters and it's no secret that I get along with females less than well. Despite my handicap, I doubt that they will even notice. I'm Southern and they are not even familiar enough with Southerners to know that we are pleasant, gracious, and kind in all situations. I will not bother to explain that Southerners are forced to be charming or face a death that will later look like an accident. Cruelty veiled in charm! It's a beautiful, twisted thing.
I thought to leave the packing to Jeanie but he scared me with the words, "There's a washer and dryer..." I need style and variety! I will not be up for meeting strangers if I'm not perfectly attired. What girl is?
I am not sure what kind of Internet access will be available to me, and maybe that's just as well. I think it's sometimes a good thing to just leave all forms of communication with the familiar at least for a few days. I"m looking forward to hunting down new treasures, placing my thoughts on pages not screens and diving into my latest book titled "Suits Me" -the story of Billy Tipton who lived, loved and performed for the world as a man but was later discovered to be a woman but only after death. It's an intriguing read I highly recommend.
Today I'm going to tie up all the loose ends at work, research all the places of interest on Long Island, and send out a token of affection to a Blogger I absolutely adore named Chrissie. She's a fascinating read and a doting email friend. If I ever make my way across the pond to visit my fair sister, I am going to meet Chrissie. I just have to. She's so lovely!

Ethics and the Like

When I was 20, I briefly gave up my given my name and everyone called me Jo. I drove a Red Chevy Beretta GT that I still miss, wore my hair Texas beauty queen big, and wore clothes skin tight. I had a great fake ID that got me into all the wrong places so that I could experience all the wrong experiences but that's okay. I learned to be fearless and it's served me well. I became a regular at a little bar that was frequented by green berets with hard-ons for me and a DJ who played Mustang Sally every time I walked in. I drank $2.00 whiskey sours and gave my cherries to those I wanted to conquer. I often saw Jesus sitting at the bar and danced with the devil a couple of times. My whole goal was to have a blast and take absolutely nothing serious. I succeeded.
I recall one particular Green Beret-just not his name. I never fancied him really but I spent a lot of Friday nights chatting with him because he would buy my drinks when I did. He was sweeter than the whiskey sours and I never gave him my cherries. I had already conquered him without even trying. One night he came in with his roommate. His roommate was really dreamy and looked like the poster cowboy on my closet door. They took turns dancing with me and invited me to go back to their place. The roommate said, "We want to share you. You'll love it."
That would take away all doubt and make me a certifiable slut.
I wanted to know but ....
I will never know, though I've wondered many times. Maybe I've done more than wondered. Maybe I've fantasized about it.
I've received similar offers but never accepted.
It was too taboo but maybe...
Maybe 16 years later I allowed myself to do more than fantasize about it.
Maybe I finally know what it is to be shared.
Only this time it wasn't Green Berets.
Maybe this time it was The Crossdresser and another Crossdresser.
Maybe as I kissed Jeanie, Kendra just kind of wrapped her arms around the two of us and we fell into embrace and debauchery and there were moments where I saw Jesus in Drag between my legs while an archangel in a wig and perfect makeup held me and kissed me so deeply that I had to call on God himself.
Slut?
I'm not a slut.
I'm a fucking Goddess.....

Popular Opinion

Today one of the guys from the IT department called me and asked what my daughter's name was. "The Scene Girl". He quickly brought a CD found in an old computer that was once mine that was labeled Mom and Scene Girl. I decided to take a look and it was a bunch of pictures of the two of us from I guess around two years ago. My girlfriend Shelley came from behind and I quickly closed the window. She thought I was checking out something good and I had to explain that they were old pictures of me that I didn't really care for. She whined until I showed her a picture from a company party two years ago and she said, "That doesn't even look like you. Why do you look so different in that picture?"
I explained my hair was lighter and I think I might be a little thinner. Whatever the change, I look better at 36 than I did at 34. Just goes to show that aging isn't necessarily a bad process. I don't know if it's that I'm aging well or if it's the comfort I've found in being myself. I am certainly happier than the woman in those photos. It was post heart ache and about six months before removing most of the straight people out of my social circle. And before I get a comment on straight hate, I'm not speaking merely about sexual orientation. I mean, most people think I'm straight but those in the know are more than certain that it's not true.
Life in the alternative lifestyle has its ups and downs and mostly I don't mind that. I'm learning as I go and most of that knowledge is coming through experience and it's mostly always been that way for me. It makes for a lot of mistakes but luckily I'm a quick study. While I might not speak openly to everyone about my life, I certainly don't hide how I live. I introduced Jeanie as a cross dresser to those I'm closest to and others have heard and question why I chose a man who enjoys dresses as much as I do.
To each his own....or her own? Last night I heard RuPaul say, "I learned a long time ago that other people's opinions about me are none of my business." For me, the answers are not so hard to come up with. I chose someone I love and adore who in turn loves and adores me back. I chose someone with similar interests and designs with a great deal of kindness and capacity for joy. These things seem more important than traditions and trends. I knew that I would not choose at all if my choices were to be with someone who would hold me back and bring me down. Those were not options that were at all acceptable to me and yet obviously, those options would be more acceptable and pleasing for those that look out over my landscapes than God forbid, I have a boyfriend who wears make up.
Actually I see that as a perk! We run out of a lot of things, but make up is never one of them. Nor do we run out of nail polish, panty hose....or devotion, encouragement, laughter or hope. If they ever get up the nerve to ask me instead of discussing it with those I'm closest to, I'll be sure to tell them that but ....they won't.
You can't change people but you can always change your mind about them.

David and Mark's Going Away Party

I Never Was the Girl Next Door

I love things that show up in the mail.
Always have, always will.
This was a good week for mail.
My order from E.L.F. (eyeslipsface.com)came in yesterday. Most of the products are only a dollar, the shipping only double that and the order showed up in about a week. I've been curious about the whole mineral make up thing and ordered a starter kit for the scene girl. She was not impressed at all and asked when I was going to buy more clinique clarifying foundation for her as she dumped the starter kit on my vanity (she did keep the nice carry case and all but one of the brushes). I tried it out myself this morning and I agree with The Scene Girl. It was not enough coverage for a Drag Queen like me. My face felt naked, and it did little to cover the shine or too much red in my natural skin tone. I did like the eye brow kit and the nail polishes I ordered for Jeanie and I. The eyeliner pen that The Scene Girl ordered is pretty cool too.
A few weeks ago I signed up at Book Mooch after a girl at a used bookstore recommended it as being a way to score all the Charlaine Harris books for very little money. It's a book swap of all the books you don't want for all the books you do want. I've sent out four books and have received two so far. My wish list is filled with books on transgender issues, though I realize I may never run into many of the books I want. I was crushed when a Canadian refused to send me Miss Vera's Finishing School for Boys Who Want to Be Girls . I did receive one on my transgender list and haven't been able to stop reading.
She's Not There by Jennifer Finney Boylin is an autobiography in which she details her lifelong struggle with her burgeoning femaleness and the path she followed to become a female, both physically and mentally. While I believe she leaves out certain details, she seems to write honestly with what she is comfortable discussing about her choice to become a woman while maintaining her role as a husband and father. She did not tell her wife that she was transsexual until after years of marriage and two babies; she never told anyone. It was her belief at a young age that if she found a woman to love, these feelings would go away. This is the best explanation I've come across; the only one I've not held in slight contempt. While I stand the chance of offending some, I must admit that I've never understood why people choose to marry someone while hiding such a huge secret. And yet, so many seem offended that their wives cannot accept them. Maybe this would have been a good conversation around the third date. Why should your true nature be more important than hers?
As I was reading about Jennifer's decision to tell her wife, I watched Jeanie in the kitchen. I wondered if he would be happier as a full-time woman and what would that mean for me? I didn't have to wonder long. I love Jeanie-all aspects and I would gladly give up the male aspects if he thought this would bring him greater fulfillment. I sometimes see Jeanie as being lost, fragile, delicate. I think his duality is a tough fit in the world in general so I asked him would he like to be a girl all the time.
His response was, "You mean cut off my penis?" I nodded yes, and he quickly explained that he would always be pre-op; that the ability to be both was much more appealing to him. Yes, he would love to be free of his five o'clock shadow, but he enjoys his penis and its functions even if he chooses to sit not stand.
I know that he is crazy in love with me and that there might be a fear that saying he wants to be a full-time woman might change the way I feel for him but I believe what he says. He's always chosen to be so true and honest that I've learned not to question what he says. If in time, his truth changes I will accept it.
And maybe that's true for any love. Maybe I underestimate the typical woman. I am curious to learn if Jennifer's wife accepted his crossover but I won't tell.
You should read the book.

Don't Think Twice

The spirit rules the body. I've witnessed this to be true with Nanna Jones. Any time Nanna feels out of sorts she develops a mystery illness that can never be diagnosed but excuses her from stress or deadline or whatever she can't handle. She would spend a week in bed, skip out on the rough stuff and resume perfect health. While it was obvious to myself and others that she used this as a defense mechanism, it didn't make her any less sick just because she created it. It makes me wonder: don't we all invent our pain?
I think of Nanna Jones now as I deal with this throb in my face. I define these throbs as sinus infections and I've gotten them for years. Only when experiencing one am I aware that they show up anytime I find myself confronting feelings concerning my Mother.
I blew in on a wild September storm on the year that Momma and Daddy turned sixteen. Momma has always been quick to say that the weather that day perfectly predicted our relationship. I try very hard to bury any feelings I have left for her in the darkest of my rooms. I find resolution in the the truth that some things will always be unresolved. No happily ever after here, friends. It's just not going to happen.
On Tuesday I had to go for my assessment. In order to evaluate anyone, the pros always go for the throat or in my case, the traces of my mother found on my person. As I listened to myself speak to this gal with hair that matched her skin tone, I listened to my Momma and Daddy take turns talking. Momma did most of the talking. Marilyn the Rehab Professional's assessment was that I don't have a drug dependency. My assessment is that I am so much like the very woman I like the very least.
It makes my face ache.
And it's hardly worth it.
My current comfort level is zero.
It's hard to sit well with these feelings in my lap and this ache in my round face.
I should be happy.
My life is sweet.
The traits that I inherited from Momma have served me well and have taken me on an entirely different path than the one she walks. While she is submissive, I am dominant. While she serves, I am waited on.
I cannot help who I am anymore than she can help who she is and a level of forgiveness should be forged on that alone.

Squeeze

I think Jeanie is depressed.
He got laid off today.
I'm not upset about it all.
His bills are minimum and I can pick up all the household stuff.
Maybe now New York will grant him unemployment.
That would be really sweet.
It does seem a little tight for us this week.
On Friday I had to sign my soul away and agree to rehab.
My evaluation is tomorrow.
The upfront costs are squeezing me until next pay day.
No one other than Human Resources has said anything to me.
My boss T didn't learn about it until Friday.
His response to HR was "I just want it to go away"
He's spoiled on all of my good nature and wit.
I got to move into my new space at work.
Away from the sales agents, I get lots more done.
I had to pick out furniture for the new reception area.
I love color and I'm wondering if I picked wrong.
All I know is it's contemporary and beat the alternatives.
I hear Jeanie....

An Open Letter to Diane

Today I received a thoughtful comment from an unfamiliar reader on a blog I wrote some time ago. Unfortunately I was at work at the time and could not respond right away, but maybe I'll just blog a comment back.

Diane S. Frank has left a new comment on your post "This One..Is Not Like The Others":
I'll be pointing Helen to your Blog, and she in turn may be able to link you other women who are more like you. Helen enjoyed Betty's crossdressing, it's the ongoing transition that's hard. You've said nothing about hormones or surgery. There was a woman similar to you mentioned in the book...she died of breast cancer a couple of years ago. As for whether crossdressing is a debilitating disease- it can be. And the hot CD on the cover? That's Betty. I think I'll follow your blog- the question of whether a domme/sub relationship can be a real relationship has interested me for a while...but it's hard to find examples. The few people I know are so caught up in their 'lifestyle' that they view the rest of the world in a strange manner, sort of like how someone in Amway or any other multilevelmarketing organization starts to view everyone as a potential downline or customer.

I am surprised that I haven't been called out about my thoughts on Helen Boyd's book "My Husband Betty" before now. I know that she is widely favored in the Transgender Community. As I've grown a little more familiar with the Transgender Community, I understand that this book speaks to the majority of women who are in relationships with Crossdressers. Most women do not go into the relationship knowing about the crossdressing. For these women, this book is ideal.

I am a minority in that I knew Jeanie before I knew Gene. The fact that he loved to dress as a female was exciting and thrilling-not surprising and shocking for me. What has been surprising and shocking is that I have not found more women like me. If they are out there, I haven't found them. There is no community for girls like me.

There's an old saying that women marry men in hopes of changing them, and men marry women in hopes that they never will. I am more like the man in that I hope Jeanie never changes. He has changed. He will continue to change. Some of those changes have occurred under my influence and suggestion. It's obvious when I look at photos and read diary entries. I've encouraged him to allow the girl in him to go out into the world and what shoes would be correct for the occasion.

As far as hormones and surgery go, I am more than supportive of that if Jeanie ever decides to do that. Hormones and electrolysis have been discussed more than surgery although he loves the idea of having breasts. He says that he would never opt for having a vagina over a penis, but I question that. When I touch Jeanie's cock, it's not in a traditional sense. I always touch him as if I'm touching a woman or myself and therefore I believe that a full transition might be something he will one day seek.

I believe the hardest thing I've had to overcome in learning to totally trust Jeanie is the fear that at some point he will have the desire to be with a man. Isn't that the natural progression? I've found part of that answer from within my own desires. While I am totally turned on by a man in lipstick and heels, I am not turned on by a woman in the same. While I feel I am generally considered to be a straight woman, my social circle is primarily gay. I am approached by bisexual and gay women on a relatively consistent basis without ever feeling a mutual attraction. It is not in Jeanie to be attracted to men (who hit on him on a relatively consistent basis as well) just as it is not in my nature to be attracted to women. I've also come to realize that someone who is open and honest enough to allow the world to know he likes to dress as a woman would hardly mind admitting that he was attracted to men.

Of course domme/sub relationships can work. All relationships are domme/sub whether they are called that or not. Someone has to take the lead and someone has to follow. It is rarely equal. People can go on about that all they want but I will never believe it to be so. The ironic part is that the one running the show isn't always the domme. Sometimes the sub is really in charge.

Diane, I think I've always viewed the world in a strange manner and while I constantly try to explain myself, I rarely expect people to buy into it.

Pet

Ever since I made Jeanie put on that french maid uniform and wash walls, he's been on a strange trip of submissive bliss.
I can't complain.
He's the perfect mingle of love slave, housewife and pet.
As work has taken unpredictable turns, Jeanie has been a constant steady stream of obedience and adoration.
When I'm at work fetching this and that for my boss, I wonder if he'd ever guess that at home, I never fetch anything.
Today he's wearing a tight t-shirt and slingy girl jeans while he awaits Cousin David's arrival. He's coming over to take out a tree that's been dead and gone for who knows how long.
It's a creepy tree and I'm glad to watch it go.
Cousin David is always looking out for us girls.

Just Call Me Winehouse

It's one thing to fear being exposed.
Knowing that you've been exposed it's another thing all together.
Last night my girlfriend Manji called a few times but I had turned my phone off.
This morning I learned from our mutual friend Nancy it was because she had heard through a coworker who doesn't even work on the same campus as I do that I had flunked my drug test! Talk about paranoid! I found myself reading into every look, gesture and comment that was made in my general direction. I was told that Human Resources was out of the office and felt convinced that this was the only reason I had not been confronted and had not been fired.

I didn't relax until around one when Adam picked me up for our weekly lunch date. Adam and I met when I was seventeen and he was four. We fell in love with one another immediately. He's grown into such an amazing person. We're always sharing new books and movies and music and food....Adam is a total foodie. Finding great new places to dine is his favorite thing to do. Today we had lunch at one of our favorite Thai restaurants. He tried his best to reassure me that I was fine by putting his general psychic spin to it by saying, "I just don't feel anything negative coming your way over this. I don't see it effecting you at all." I so love him for that.

Afterwards we went to the new TJ Maxx that opened. It was in general a disappointment but I found the most beautiful Geisha doll and a cheap DVD called Trans America. If you've seen this and it's horrible, don't tell me. I want to curl up with Jeanie and find out for myself.


Human Resources showed up sometime after and said that the Prez had been informed of the situation. He told her that I was not to be terminated-we would work something out. Basically, I'm looking at more pee tests and meetings with dope fiends which I'll probably enjoy.

I'm so relieved. After work, I went and put my pay check in the bank. I've kinda been holding on to it as a way of not spending any of it until I knew if there would be more. Now it all seems kind of silly that I worried the way that I did but it certainly cured me of my little fondness to Mary Jane. She can go hide in the top of someone else's closet. I'm thinking Cousin David's or my Daddy's; whoever finds her first.

Now that I'm feeling secure again, I will be putting in for time off to help Cousin David move to Virginia and from there we'll be heading to New York. Jeanie's baby sister is getting married on April 4th. I've yet to meet any of Jeanie's family so it should be quite an experience. Now I can save my worry time for what will I wear to the wedding!

Thank you to those of you who crossed fingers and sent sweet messages!

POSITIVE

I went to work in my big girl panties.
Human Resources brought me a piece of paper and said I had to call the medical review office.
Something about my random drug test.
It seems I tested positive for marijuana.
I always knew there was a possibility of being tagged for one of those tests.
I just somehow convinced myself that I was somehow above it.
And I was for a long time. Just not last Friday.
I don't know what this means for me.
I mean, I know it means I'll never smoke again.
This is the first drug test I've ever failed and it will be the one and only.
I have never seen anything wrong with pot.
Maybe because I grew up with hippies and it was always there.
Paul McCartney smokes pot. I think Obama even smokes pot.
Even with the shame I feel that I tested positive for it, I don't really see what's wrong with it.
I just know that others see it as wrong-doesn't really fly with me.
I've always been very self-assured at work.
I do my job with flare and style and noone can do it better.
I am untouchable in job performance and yet, my job is not so certain anymore.
What will this drug test mean for me?
I hoped to find out yesterday, but not a word was said to me.
I waited and I waited and still no word was spoken.
Confronting the unspoken occurred to me, but I didn't.
Maybe that's not the thing to do, but waiting to learn my fate is torture.
I just want it over.

Extraordinary

The weekend was quiet.
We accomplished a lot in the way of making this place our home.
Cousin David gave me a dresser last weekend.
I cannot wait to get started on it.
Yesterday I bought high gloss black paint for the outside of it.
When you open the drawers, it will be hot pink on the inside; incorporating The Scene Girl's favorite colors. This may become a new hobby or maybe it already has; revamping the ordinary and making it extraordinary. Certainly I already do this with My Crossdresser. Saturday we played dress up and created the video above. I was hard pressed to find a song that fit but I think it turned out really sweet and sexy.
I don't have a test study to compare our relationship to but I have read a lot from other woman in the way that they see their relationships with crossdressers. They complain about the dressing up while I adore it. They talk about how they miss the males they knew their partners to be. I don't hear them complain about missing the girls when the male takes over which is usually my complaint.
Jeanie is a dream but Gene can be such a brat. He questions everything and makes me wish I had just done it myself rather than ask him to do it. I thought Jeanie was out shopping with me on Sunday but it became clear that in a hardware store, Gene felt a need to take over and we clashed and fought like crazy. Grabbing dinner and the ride home was just misery. He wouldn't listen to sound directions and we got stuck in traffic because of it. Our order at Arby's wasn't right and he fled the drive-thru before I could get my order correct.
When we got home I allowed him to eat and immediately laid out his maid uniform. He spent the rest of the afternoon sweeping, mopping and washing walls while I watched Six Feet Under episodes.
I don't know if I would have felt such a need to put him in his place had I not been so nervous about going to work this morning. I worry that my secret will be revealed today and what if any consequences will take place. I have tried to brace myself for anything but even now I just want to hide under my bed and pray for it to be over. I know I can't do that and maybe that's what all of this is about: taking ownership and meeting my fears.
I've decided that any pleasure I might find in my secret is not really worth keeping. I'm throwing it out no matter what today's outcome holds. I am trying so hard to live authentically and there is nothing authentic about hiding who you are. If you are ashamed of any part of you, isn't that proof that it should be removed and thrown away? I don't know what I'm on about. It's nerves raw and throbbing.
I have to just pull up my big girl panties and go on with it.

CRAZY

Secret of my Own

This week wasn't hard or coarse at all. It was easy and I was untouchable. Today it all seemed to catch up with me as things often have a way of doing. I've always lived that way; always a little off the map and mostly that's fine. A secret may have or may not have been learned about me today and there could be repercussions. It could change everything for me. Is that one thing worth it? Of course not. Not really and maybe it's a secret I should no longer own. I know it's time to put away my last childish thing. Okay, one of my last childish things but certain I must beg for mercy and give up the childish thing. It makes me sad. It's kind of like dressing; something I've kept hidden in the back of the closet away from plain sight. Now it might be out there and I'm drained of everything except anticipation of the outcome. Jeanie is jumping around the house in a dress The Scene Girl gave him that I gave her a year ago and he's wanting me...my attention and love and he longs for the transformation I always give him. This is one of my favorite things to do but tonight it's like I'm mourning my childish thing because I know that I will miss it like an old friend. I stand to ruin my Crossdresser's weekend with the cloud of doubt and the burden of my secret. Well, maybe the night. I think I have to find something to utterly distract me long enough to let go and accept that this is my reality and I can either create a wonderful experience or not. The choice is mine. It's all about changing your mind. I think I'll go paint a door.

Nervous Tic Motion

I didn't think it would take me this long to make my way back.

We're all moved in but my thoughts aren't unpacked.

I made Jeanie put all his butch clothes in the spare bedroom we've turned into an Internet cafe we refer to as the man room. A metro sexual man room, mind you.

When he comes home from work he takes girly clothes into the boy closet and changes there.

Tonight he has on this pink hooded sweater and little booty pants that are stamped "SPOIL ME" across his sweet bottom but I look over and all I see is our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ that beard and his loose hair. I've been seeing that a lot lately not that I mind it's just my sick twisted need to bring the cross up in my bedroom. I don't know when it started but it's entirely unfresh and dated, that I can tell you with accuracy.

I live with a crossdresser and a teenager but it doesn't mean I understand either archetype. I am finding that they share a great deal in common with Sadie and Sirena, our beaded ladies: they whine a lot and just when you think you've taught them better, they've left prizes where you're least likely to find them. They are also kind and pleasing and never question that I'm in charge and that's insane if you know me at all but I refuse to teach them better on all things.

I was born under the Sitting Buddha which means I must learn everything on my own and teach it to others but somethings I just won't give up. You better steal it 'cause I'm not giving it away like Ledbelly said to the White Devils.

I'm glad that people don't ask me what I did last night. I hate to lie and I'd have to tell them that I shaved Jeanie from head to toe. I love to do this. My Matt says "Jeanie is just your living doll" and he's right. I love to dress him up and pull his strings. I know to touch him cause it's just like I touched my girlfriends when my sexual preferences were a bit more out of focus but is that true? Back then I went out on dates all prim and proper and later I would be a dirty girl with my best friends. Isn't that what I still do on some levels? Am I a lesbian? Am I straight? Am I bisexual? Am I trisexual? I don't know. It's not clear-ask later.

Today this hot young caramel girl let me know that if I was interested, she was interested but I'm not really interested. I think she's beautiful and that. I'm just not into her like that or into any girl like that really. I am so in love with the whole duality I find in Jeanie. He's like the whole package for yours nasty naughty nickled out truly.

Have you ever known of a female polygamist? I'd like a whole house full of Jeanies 'cause I'm selfish like that.

I'm going back to unpacking my thoughts...