grossly in love

confession: i only danced three songs and was completely sweat-drenched. i took a tequila shot and had the first feel-good conversation with an ex-boy-best-friend in more than a year and a half. i spent the next two hours talking to my current boy best friend without tequila (because he is 15 years sober) and reaffirming all my brilliant choices in life while giving him bad advice he promised not to heed. (p.s. i often preface my bad advice with “i’m about to give you bad advice that you have to promise not to follow.”)

confession: most people don’t want or need advice (particularly unsolicited bad advice). i like bouncing bad advice at my boy best friend to see where it lands, trusting him to make wise choices for himself no matter what poor suggestions i offer.

confession: i heart my current boy best friend more than any other boy best friend i’ve ever had. i proclaim him as my truest love for all boy best friends. i’m lucky in platonic love. way way way lucky.

confession: my boy best friend is lucky in love, too. almost too lucky with almost too many options. he’s irresistibly charming and ridiculously handsome and during a conversation lull he’ll teach you texas history.

confession: my new boy best friend is the best gift i’ve received in 2015.

confession: i’m gushing. publicly. sorry i’m not sorry because i’m grossly in love with my boy best friend. i’m grossly in love with another, too…but privately.

confession: i’m platonically in love with my tea party tree goddess and the poetess, too. see?! i told you i’m lucky in platonic love.

confession: i spend equal time thinking about the next tattoo i want and laser-erasing the tattoos i have when i’m older. i love my present tattoos. i don’t want to erase them because i regret them. i want to erase them because after seeing the color fade for 20 years, i can’t imagine how faded and distorted they may appear in another 30 years on aging skin. also, in the way that people become addicted to the needling pain of getting new tattoos, i could get addicted to the searing pain of laser-burning skin. yeah, weird, i know. i’m weird. and lasers, dude. lasers are cool. (by the way, the next tattoo i want is a psychedelic kuan yin filling the remaining empty space on the inside of my right forearm. psychedelic compassion is one of my superpowers.)

confession: i’m surprised when people don’t have tattoos. i’m never surprised when they have them.

confession: i miss all of my godchildren. i physically experience the pain of missing them in every small pocket between my heart and my guts. i love loving tiny humans and baby animals. although, a kitten isn’t a fair comparison for godchildren in tutus or fruit-juice-stained overalls.

confession: august weather in texas can suck it. i fly to connecticut tomorrow. i fly to meet more love in connecticut.

confession: i love being in love. i love loving you better. how can i love you better? what makes you feel more loved?


About angel joy

love is an action verb. i live love in action.
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