I had a fucked up dream last week that Angel Wicky (of all people) was my wife. It was one of those super realistic dreams that last forever. The damn thing was like 30 years long. The most fucked up part is that I seldom dream of women. Like, count on one hand the number of times in my whole life.
We met on a plane where I ended up sitting next to her. It took me a minute to recognize her, but I never let on. We talked the whole flight, grabbed a drink when we landed. She wanted me to go back to her room for obvious, whorish reasons, but I was like no, it never ends well this way, let's save all that for the 2nd date. We met up a bunch more times, did all the cutesy couple stuff, fell in love, and stayed together.
She was still a complete and total asswhore, but she was my complete and total asswhore, and she was really cool to be around. Like we were always laughing and having a good time, and we traveled, and held hands, and she never cheated on me, and we grew old together, and she never lost her accent, and I always had to explain big words to her. And it just never came up that she fucked five hundred niggers and drank their piss out of some other slut's asshole and spent the better part of 25 years getting reamed out by every swinging dick on six continents. I knew. She knew I knew. And she loved me more for never bringing it up.
I woke up thinking what even the fuck was that? I had to look around and it took me a solid five minutes make sure I was still me and I was still on the timeline I remembered from before I went to bed.
I think the universe is telling me to settle for a complete and total whore. That it'll be ok, and turn out better than trying to find one who isn't (good luck with that) and trying to keep her while the whole world is twisting her arm to turn into one. Like other aspects of life, I absolutely refuse to participate if that's the best it can be.
But damned if I'm not a little intrigued.