Dear Amy in Alabama. Thank you for your comment on my blog this morning. Perhaps I should stress the MY blog part a bit more. I find it endearing that you would take the time out of your Sunday morning, a “church morning” as we say down south, to write such a long, loaded comment. I would add to this that it shocked me in one sense because I would think that a nice Alabama girl like you would be in church this morning for fear of being called a heathen, but, if I did, would I not be launching unfounded judgment on you as you have me and/or me and Thumper? Glass houses, Amy, or perhaps better understood, for you as, Glass Trailers, Amy. There I go again with those assumptions, huh?
While the full text of your comment is still below, I have decided to make you and your stupidity a full post, dear Amy. I have to say when I read your comment at first, I thought that perhaps a friend of mine was playing a joke, but then I immediately hoped that the few real life friends of mine who read this would know better. So, let’s get to commenting on your comment, shall we?
I realize that this is my choice to read your blog which I found on Twitter this morning, but WTF? Are you two just trying to find peace with the fact you had a one time trick? So you fucked and you may be friends one day. Why do you think people care? Is this just a narcissistic outlet?
First, congrats on finding me on “the Twitter” but I still can’t figure out why you would feel compelled to read all of it AND comment when you so clearly don’t understand it. Yes, we did fuck and you know what? We will fuck again. It’s even on the calendar. And he just tweeted a picture of the boots he will be wearing.
As for finding peace with it, there are 1,976 things in my life right now I am not at peace with and THIS is not one of them. My broken furnace, the fact that I have a meeting ten minutes after my flight lands tomorrow, and the fact that I really don’t like the sweater I am wearing now are causing me to not be at peace. Thumper and his ass, ARE NOT.
THIS relationship is fun and fascinating and, guess what? we already are friends! As for people caring, I don’t care if they do. But, from many readers and the wonderful comments I get, I suspect they do.
Now, narcissistic? Maybe, but, frankly, if that were the case you’d see far more pictures of my beautiful big dick here and I would use a lot more adjectives when talking about myself. Thumper could show you many parts of himself as well because he should be beyond proud of those, but neither of us feel the need.
I just think you are both dreaming of a time where your spouses are going to embrace this. Do you really think you’ll all go on a couples vacation to Hawaii one day? It just doesn’t wirk that way and I just want to tell you now before hearts get broken. My husband is locked two, but I don’t tell the world and would certainly not want to know his lover if he had one.
1. Hawaii would be nice, but I know better places. This is none of your business and we can dream anything we want. I do know that Thumper will meet Axel one day, but that’s all I know and ALL I wonder about now.
2. Work is not spelled with an “i”.
3. Why do I suspect you just have a master lock hanging around his balls?
4. Lover? Are you an effeminate man in your late 50’s? I ask because I have not heard that term from anyone other than that in many years. I love my friends and Thumper is my friend, but he will never be my lover. Ever. By virtue of the fact I have seen him naked, some might call him a boyfriend and I kinda like it if they did, BUT, there are plenty of other words that would apply too – though, ironically, most start with an “s”, (Thump, shall we list them?).
Drew, you say you are Southern, as I am, but our men don’t act as you so you may need to do some thinking.
Sweetie, I am as Southern as they come and even used to have the sweeping Ole Miss haircut that is still somehow worn well today. I can walk you around the tree with words forty- seven times before going in for the kill if I wanted, but I won’t. My southernness is in my heritage, my conversations, my core values on how I look at life, and in the fact that I have never shoveled snow. If you are referring to stereotypical Southern men, “gentile” is the word for them because I think you, like many, are confusing “Southern” with “Redneck”. Trust me, dear Amy, I travel around the world almost every week, and I can find “redneck” in every single culture.
Finally, if your Southern men don’t act like me, then I am sorry for you, because come see me. I will hold your door open, I will smile as I hold your hand up the stairs, I will ask you about how you are even if I don’t give a fuck, and I will complement even the worst days of your hairstyle, because, that is how I was raised. For the record, I speak to groups for a living so I lost my accent in my 20’s, BUT, when the moment is right, I can turn it on in a way that would make your panties wet and most likely your husband hard at the same time (Thumper, did I get that first part right? – he’s teaching me about women, ya’ll).
I had to ask myself if it’s the gay part that’s bothering me but it’s not. I like seeing the gays on TV now and it feels okay. It’s your business I know, but you are making it mine too so I felt I could say it. I think I could care for you both as friends which would be nice so I just wanted to start with a clear conscience. Have a good day.
1. I am glad you like Will and Grace. It’s different. Really. I don’t need your approval.
2. Nope, it’s still not your business, but you are free to read about it.
3. If you read Thumper’s post this morning you read how he described the minute amount of space that he and I are carving out for each other around our “first lives”, well, I think I speak for him in saying you don’t fit in there, but thank you for your offer of friendship. I respectfully and in my most Southern of voices, decline.
Good luck to you and don’t break any hearts.
So, to everyone else, sorry I had to divert us a bit for this, but, well, I think we have all learned a lesson, haven’t we?