She makes me laugh. She's also a lot like me in attitude, something that Boyfriend commented on this morning, as she snarled her way around the house and I snarled back. She stole my brand new work out pants and then tried to soft pedal it. As I couldn't physically hold her down and strip her in front of BF, I demanded that she wash them as soon as she got back.
Of course, she didn't. She didn't remember and if I remind her, I am nagging and doing it deliberately to spoil her day. I do admit that a huge compensation for the expense, agony and physical deterioration that is part of having kids is the added bonus of getting to fuck with them, but I don't deliberately try and psychologically undermine them.
It's just a side effect of being related to me.
We got to talking about Boyfriend, who she admits is a nice person. I admit this, too.
She hopes he knows that she likes him as a person.
I say that I hope so, too.
She says that she doesn't know if he seems exactly my type and I say that types change. That maybe, for him, I am a walk on the wild side, but for me, it is refreshing to have somebody who cares about me so much and who is reliable and dependable.
That maybe he isn't the type to attach chains to my nipple rings, to a dog collar around my neck, and from there to his wrist and take me walking around a B & D nightclub in red, high heeled stripper boots (true story) instinctively but that he more than makes up for it in other ways and that he'd do the slutty slink ownership thing if I really wanted him to.
She nodded, a little wide-eyed. (I hadn't told her this story before).
Then she said "He's right for you now. Maybe in the future. But if you go on to pick somebody else, just make sure it's not somebody who has a Venereal Disease".
Like that's on my selection criteria for important attributes in men that I want to date!
(Of course, she meant 'Terminal Disease', bearing in mind my oh-so-loved last man, and seeing how that destroyed me.)
I assured her, gravely, (heh!) that I would run a mile if anybody I loved ever was terminally ill again.
And that just that morning I had kissed Boyfriend goodbye at 6 am, on his motorbike Ride of Shame, and instead of saying "I love you; drive safe", I'd said "Don't die, you fucker, or I'll be severely pissed off".
Everybody should feel sorry for this man.