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Thursday, March 04, 2004

Hello, friends! Today we begin with a story about my lovely mentor and mother figure. Well, she called me on my cell phone on the bus this morning, asking if we can meet later. She emphasized that she really likes me and I can call her about anything and if I'm feeling okay and emotionally and in my heart and if I'm alright and you know and I just wanna be THERE for you...

Dear lordy, I am dating a 34-year-old. This is not good.

The reason for this frustration is because I love her, a love her a lot, I really wanted her to be my mentor because I got an inner sense of the two of us as similar people and I want her to be there for me so that she can stroke my hair while we're in the middle of a forest and we're all muddy and our hair is dreading and bugs are swarming around us and we smell like sweat and shit and she kisses me lightly on the forehead and tell me, "Leticia, my darling, everything is going to be okay. Show them what you're made of. Bear your true heart to the world." (Then we get swallowed up by a giant mud-monster, but that comes later.) And sitting there, in her lap, while she strokes my hair (and at this point, I fail to be ten years younger; curses), suddenly, everything makes sense. I am a grown-up woman. I don't have to worry about a thing. My whole life is in place, and I have friends, understanding, a blog, sunshine, rain, apples, nudity, and sex. I mean, what?! I mean apples and oranges! Oranges, dammit! And strawberries. Mmmm... and whipped cream... NO!

So you should see where this is going. I imagine myself to be more mature than to need a mother figure, but well, she's immature and needs somebody to be a mother figure too, and our relationship seems to be spiraling ever downward into a distant dungeon (with whips and chains!) labeled, "Slightly More Than Friends." Ooouuaaaaauuuggghhh.

That said, she IS really hot...

Curses.
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