Michelle and I have been having some wild times, coast to coast. We went to Portland last weekend and unfortunately the weather was bad. We arrived very late on Friday night. Saturday we spent getting adjusted to our neighborhood and in the evening we went out to dinner with friends. Michelle had one Gin and Tonic, and I could see that she was going to be in rare form for the evening. We began to argue about whether or not to drive to Seattle. I didn't think it was a good idea because it's too much driving in one day and I'm not the type of person who packs as many events and activities into a vacation as possible. I just like to hang out. We ended up not going to Seattle, and that particular evening ended at a jazz bar. At first, Michelle and I were sitting by ourselves at the bar, and I ordered a mud pie and coffee for Michelle. She tried to give me a very demonstrative kiss, which I pulled back from, feeling that it was inappropriate. She was very intoxicated. Then she looked sad and said, "You don't like me." I said, "Yes I do. I love you and I like you." Then she said flatly, "That's nice. Everyone wants to be liked." Then she swallowed her mud pie down the wrong tube. I thought she was vomiting and I jumped up ready to whisk her away to the bathroom, but she just coughed up coffee and ice cream onto herself and then finished her dessert. At one point, she said, "I'm a fraud. I'm shit." I disagreed with those statements and tried to steer her back toward reality. Finally, we joined our friends at a table while the bar closed. Michelle made several extremely agitated but eloquent speeches that pertained to hypocrisy and racism, with her main point being that racism toward middle eastern people, including racist jokes and comments, should be penalized. She said "penalized" at least four times, while gesturing emphatically and pointing her finger in my face. I had to tell her to get her finger out of my face. She also took a trip down memory lane wherein she recounted for the group the injustices she suffered six years ago at the hands of a store clerk who attempted to halt her escape from a shoplifting escapade. Michelle punched the clerk in the face and broke her glasses, "and that fucking bitch deserved it because she broke the rules." (The clerk touched her, God forbid). That night when we got home, Michelle seduced me in a very aggressive manner.
The remainder of our Portland adventures will not be recounted here and now, since I have things to do, but I need to tell you what happened last night. Michelle and I met at Brooklyn Industries after work, since they were having a little party there, but I waited outside because I felt sick. Then we picked up our sushi on 7th avenue and went to Prospect Park for a nighttime picnic. During our picnic, Michelle had a conversation with her mother on the phone that seemed to stir up some strong feelings, or perhaps it was the questions I asked her afterwards. She started to cry, which is rare, and became increasingly upset, punching the ground and yelling, and I felt quite honored to be there for her, to hold her and talk to her, while the tears and anger flowed. We left the park with the goal of writing a letter and delivering it that same evening to a very sick man from her past who has yet to be confronted with his sins and who has yet to pay for them. I suggested taking her time with the letter, but she insisted that it be written by hand and delivered before she lose her nerve. I was tired, but I felt this could be the most important night of her life, so I committed myself to supporting her. Then something terrible happened. This guy was coming up 9th street toward us, and as he passed, he recognized Michelle and said, "Hey don't I know you?" I had a feeling we needed to keep moving, but she stopped to talk to him and I saw them whisper something. They were trying to hide something from me. They said they knew each other from Union Square, years ago, so I knew he was bad news, and she let him walk with us. She pretended to go into her wallet to give him a dollar "because everyone in Union Square needs a dollar," but I kept my eyes on their hands and her wallet. When their hands met I smashed them and yelled, "What the fuck are you doing? Get out of here!" The guy said, "Whoa, she's buggin' out,'" and he practically ran away. Then Michelle realized he had ripped her off by slipping her a piece of paper towel rather than a dimebag of dope, and she started chasing him. I figured she was chasing him to finish the transaction, so I ran after them, back across 3rd avenue. I was screaming, "Michelle get your fucking ass back here! I swear to God I'll lock you out tonight!" When I caught up to them, she said it was too late, he wouldn't give her money back and he was far up the block. She walked home with me. Then she wanted to go back out, she said, to find him and get her money back or kick his ass. I was going insane at this point. I really thought about punching her to knock her out, just to keep her in the house. It seemed like the only option. I wouldn't let her back out through the door, so she went out the front window, and I threatened to call her parents. But I couldn't really call them. It didn't seem smart or fair. Plus I felt stupid, what would I say? And during these moments, I am the parent. I see the transference. So I went back out there and found her again. I believed her at this point, that she was out for revenge because the dope was not an option, this guy simply ripped her off. So we went home and I went into my room and took half of a xanax and smoked a little weed and eventually it seemed like that whole episode had not just occurred. We both calmed down. Michelle said, "All's well that ends well." I didn't think that was the best way to describe it. Somehow we settled down for the evening just like a pair of little old ladies, eating ice cream and watching TV. Then Michelle seduced me again.
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