Got up in the late afternoon and listened to her and her company slam doors half a dozen times. Then she appeared to stop by the dumpster on the way out from what I could see when I peeked out to see what was going on.

Ah, getting backed up in trash?

She left at 3 AM last night and returned 45 minutes later. If she wasn’t going to see other disabilities, then I’d say she was definitely out on a binge, probably loading up on junk food from Circle K.

Today was pretty mild as far as stereos went, so that’s good. Haven’t heard any barking either. Just a few stereos, some without AC and some no doubt with it who felt the extra attention was worth sweating for. We’ve been having record highs in the mid-90s when it should be about 80º now.

I decided that around September I’ll write Mary and say that I haven’t received any letters from her since the not-so-nice letter she sent for our anniversary, and then also claim to have gotten letters returned to me for no reason at all, that contained no contraband whatsoever, then be done with her for good. I knew I shouldn’t have taken her back into my life, and I don’t care what stories she never gets to read. She’s just too fragile for me. I’m not going to sit here and defend and explain myself to her every so often. Besides, I still dread the day she gets released, whenever the hell that may be. It isn’t that I can’t speak up and put a stop to her pestering me. I did it with her in jail. It’s just that I don’t want the hassle in the first place. Meanwhile, by making her think the jail pigs are blocking our correspondences (and their taking 2 weeks to give her my letters will make it all the more believable), I feel I’d be doing her a favor, as opposed to openly dumping her. I don’t hate her or anything, I just don’t wish to carry on the friendship. She’s smart, but she’s also just way too naïve, defensive and eggshell-like. It’s coming up on the 26th, so perhaps in a week, she’ll get my response to my wonderful anniversary letter.

Tom has continued to show zero interest in me sexually, and of course, I have no interest in him either. That means I could do one of three things. I could leave him, I could see women on the side, or I could do absolutely nothing about it. Well, there’s no way in hell I’d ever leave such a wonderful person who’s loved and accepted me like no other, and whose worst fault was teasing me about having a baby back in Phoenix, being a procrastinator, and being a slob. He may still be a slob at times, but he’s way improved on the procrastinating, and well, it’s kind of hard to promise someone a child they not only couldn’t conceive if he was willing to squirt in them but who hasn’t wanted one in years anyway, all for what would be a one or two-night stand every year or two. And of course these would all have to be with women who wouldn’t want me for anything more be it because I was too short, too feminine, etc. Or because I didn’t smoke, drink, drive, have a career, or the ability to keep a schedule. Women were never meant to be and nothing will ever change that, but I could never bring myself to have sex with just any woman either. Meaning, I couldn’t blindly reach out via some online dating site any more than I could return to gay bars if there is any such thing in Klamath Falls. Besides, I still think most people, gay or straight, who go to bars or seek out dating services are bad news overall. It would have to be someone I met unexpectedly and miraculously had a mutual attraction for, but for someone who lives the sheltered life that I live, or at least who tries to when she’s not being forced to go to jails or funny farms, that’d be kind of hard to do. Especially since I know God would only see to it in the end that we never got together. So that leaves me with no choice but to do the last of the three – nothing. Nothing but live with and accept the fact that I’ll never have sex again. Oh, I could have it if I asked for it, but a woman shouldn’t have to “ask” her husband for it no matter what she looks like, how old she is, or what’s going on in life. Actually, I’d have to more like beg for it than ask, and well, asking is one thing, begging is another and I’m not going to be reduced to that. I don’t care to be the man 100% of the time by always being the one to initiate sex, to get off, etc. It makes no sense to ask someone to get me off who doesn’t want to participate when I can have my vibrating tongue do just that! Still, I have to wonder for the millionth time, why oh why did God curse me so when it comes to sex with nothing but uglies, sexual misfits and head-players??? Was I some sort of sick sexual predator in a previous life or something?