It Never Rains, But It Pours

It never rains, but it pours.

Earlier, I wrote an article about Velvet coming back into the fold.

Things have been going very well with her, so far, but then again, it’s only been a few days. Time will tell. Which, by the way, I’m going to come back to in a moment.

But you’ll never guess who called me up out of the blue?


I’m sitting at my home, scrolling Twitter and having a beer. I’m winding down from my day at work. The phone rings. I figured it was my Father, checking in on me, making sure that I’m okay. I pick up the phone and glance at the caller ID…and it’s Kitten.

I answered and she said hello.

She was surprised that I knew it was her when I said her name. (I guess she didn’t know or think about caller ID and the fact that I don’t delete names and phone numbers, EVER.) So yes, I knew it was her.

I was surprised to hear from her. It’s been 3 and 1/2 years since she decided to “fly the coop” and go on with her life, but here she was, calling me.

We exchanged pleasantries, and after that, she told me why she was calling.

She misses me.

She’s doing what she does, she is living her life the only way she knows how, but apparently, I “made a mark on her.”

Now there was some things between Kitten and me that I never mentioned to you, Gentle Reader, things that I won’t mention now either, but let us say, that I figured if she ever wanted to talk to me again, I had to ask some questions and get some “things off of my chest.”

Today was that day.

I was able to ask my questions and say what I needed to say to her. I guess you could say I got “closure.” At least as far as that goes.

She invited me to go snow camping with her, which I politely declined.

Not because it was her, but because I can’t stand camping in the snow. I hate the cold and I hate sleeping in a tent. I loved that shit when I was 20 or so, but alas, I’m no longer 20. I like my camping to include heat and an actual bed. To be honest, my ideal idea of camping is to spend it in a hotel with a sauna and a hot tub in the room. That’s more my style these days.

We talked for about a half hour or so and she said what she needed to say to me. Why did she need to say it? I honestly don’t know and I don’t really care. But…

I am the invitation.

So of course I told her, “Kitten, whatever is, is. Whatever was, was. I still care about you and think about you from time to time. If you ever want to come back into my life, you are more than welcome. You need to know that I haven’t changed. I’m still who I am. I still date how I date. But if you can accept that, you can join me, if you would like.”

And I left it at that.

Will she come back into my world? Who knows? Do I really care one way or another? No.

She either does or she doesn’t, the ball is in her court on that one. It was good hearing from her though.

On to the thing I was going to mention earlier:

You can’t be mad at a scorpion because it stings.

I’m not talking about astrology here.

I’m talking about nature.

Some women are a hot mess, that’s how they are.

Some are flighty and all of them are neurotic to one degree or another.

It’s their nature.

You can’t be mad at them for their nature.

“Velvet” is back, but she’s flighty. Will she disappear again? Most likely. I would even say, almost definitely. That’s okay by me, because that is her nature. She has showed me who she truly is, and I’m okay with that.

“Kitten” is a hot fucking mess. Red flags abound. I really wonder if she knows if she is coming or going. Ultimately it doesn’t matter. She is who she is. She’s a scorpion, just like “Velvet.” That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to “handle” them though. Both of them are more fun than masturbating. Both of them have their positive qualities. And I’m not afraid of either one of them. They just do what they do, and they are who they are. I can accept that about both of them.

In many ways, I am the “immovable object.” I know what I want, I know what I’ll put up with, and you’ll be hard pressed to move me.

I’m not necessarily “rigid,” but I’m not going to budge an inch on things that work for me. That’s the “hill that I will die on.” That’s why I consider my dating life to be a revolving door. Women come and women go, but I’m still here and I couldn’t be happier. But I can’t be mad at a scorpion because they sting.

Which brings me to my final thought:

Why are you getting mad that a scorpion stings?

Of course, if you get stung, it fucking hurts. Ask me how I know.

But how can you be mad at them? How can you consider them “evil?”

They aren’t “evil,” they are what they are. They are a part of nature, just like you. Just like me.

So how can you be mad at them for being what they are?

You saw their nature. In fact, they showed and told you all along what they were. You were the one to turn a blind eye.

So how can you be mad at them?

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