Headbangers Ball

     Welcome back, Gentle Reader. Before we go any further, I can feel some of you slipping away from me. I don't want to lose you. I don't want you to think I am just some heartless, sexist son of a bitch that hates women. I just call 'em like I see 'em. So if I catch you emptying my coin jar, and I just happen to say "What the fuck are you doing?!?" And your answer is "Nothing, I'm JUST taking the quarters. We need to start saving something for my three-week old twins that you took in along with my broke ass."  Don't get mad at me when I question you on the usefulness of nickels and dimes when it comes to paying college tuition. I am pretty sure a community college will accept any and all rolled coin as acceptable payment.  I mean really, you are either robbing me or you have a fucking pinball addiction...either way, I think you need some help.

     I am actually a lover of all women.  I love how different each and every one of them are. They all have their little things that make them unique. They all have their own style, their own way of talking, their own way of making love. It's the differences that make them who they are. But I must say, some can be a little out there. Just a piece of advice ladies...if you are "making love" to a man, and he is inside you....do NOT start crying and say "I have....been waiting....on this moment....for so long" while a tear rolls down your cheek. I mean this is our first time, you fucking nutter. It's just ME, this girl is acting like she is fucking Puff-Daddy. Or P-Diddy. Or Puff-dawg, or whatever in the hell that ass-clown is going by these days.

      So to show my softer side, Gentle Reader, I submit to you a love letter written by yours truly. Just so you know there is still a soul somewhere inside me. Don't judge me. I am still a hopeless romantic deep down, in that small part of my heart that I have left. I understand we didn't move our story along that much today, but if you have a problem with that, then you come fucking write this thing. It ain't as easy as I make it look.  

Dear Headbanger,

     A long time ago, I sent you a check-yes-or-no note that I thought wouldn't mean anything to either of us in the long run. I couldn't have been more wrong. Just that little reminder that somebody was thinking of you touched you and reminded you that there was somebody out there that you meant something to. How could I have known that almost 20 years from then, you would come along and show me the same thing? That in a dark time, there is someone that understands you, someone that can be there for you.

     If I had known for even a second that twenty years from then, we would be able to talk for hours on end, make each other laugh, make each other feel something inside, I still wouldn't change a thing... I know, why wouldn't I change it? Maybe things could have been different. Maybe we would be together now. But if we would have tried to make it work years ago and you hadn't moved away, things would have went to shit, we would've hated each other and we wouldn't have what we have now.

    And what we have now is worth every tired night I spend at work, every bad relationship I ever went through, just to have those few hours together talking, laughing, and wondering what the hell we are doing. When I keep telling myself that I should be in bed, and the next minute tell myself that I can't ignore what I am feeling. So I keep saying "This is a fucking bad idea, don't sign on, don't talk to her, don't respond, don't wait up for her to sign on."  But I "man up" and wait for you, and in the end, those precious minutes we get together are worth every sleepy minute I spend at work that night.

                                                                                                              Miles Long

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