She’ll be here in 30 minutes, the Grandma P. We have a good relationship, my daughter’s father’s mother and I. It’s all the other people in our lives who fuck us up. They are always putting us in awkward positions. She and I have similar perfectly fucked up backgrounds and are as a result perfectly insane and so perfectly capable of functioning in the tight little space we have carved out in which to negotiate our friendship and play with the kidlet. Seriously, the only tension comes from outside forces, which is to say the many individuals, predominantly men, in our lives who we have striven to please and be taken care of by and who instead have hurt, bullied, or disenchanted us both. If I was going to start a Utopian women-only cult, I would hella take P with me right out of the gate. Look at that, I found a positive in today’s agonizing piecework of weaving together some kind of central rope to pull myself out of my bullshit mental problems:
(”Rope play at supper club” by PreciousLittle, on deviantart.)
Grandma P brings out a side of me that is very empathetic to women and can admit that men are as capable of being flawed as a sex as that Other Gender I’m always bashing away at despite being among its ranks. Thanks, Grandma P!
I guess I will not be needing this after all.
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