Just a word of warning:
If you're disgusted by people in love, just press the friendly
Back button now, because this is going to get mushy.
Guess what? Miah let me put some of his art on my page! Go see it!
I met Jeremiah in the dead of winter.
He walked into the store where I was enslaved (at the time) and
as he shopped, his jewelry jingled and after I commented on it,
we started a conversation. I invited him to the local bar that
(at the time) had a goth night, and he said he'd try to go. But
that was as far as it went. The next time we met was also at
the store. I invited him again to the bar but he said he had
problems getting to the bar because he was automobileless. Nevertheless,
the next door he walked through was that of Ground Zero. I don't
remember what song was playing, or what we were wearing (he does),
but I do remember that everything sort of paused. Sometime that
night a random bar-goer was getting spanked and Miah had out
his belt and administered a few smacks of his own. I took the
belt from him and he got down on his knees and kissed my shoe.
I melted. My friend Angel and I were both smitten and we made
plans to abduct and molest him but as it turned out, it never
happened. The next week was a tug of war with the three of us.
Things were said and feelings were hurt, but in the end it was
he and I.
We dated casually from sometime
at the end of January until mid-March. At his birthday party
on March 27th he asked if he could share me with Autumn, my then-girlfriend,
and I said yes. Admittedly, things haven't always been coming
up roses between us. There have been bumps in the road (and one
pothole) but we always work it out. The whole key is honesty.
You have to be honest. And you have to talk. Not just
about what's for dinner or who got invited to what party, but
you have to share your souls. Talk about music and the past,
talk about drugs and movies and friends and clothes and makeup
tips and sex. We spend so much time talking, it's insane. But
it works.
What I've said sofar is
mostly a timeline and a little advice, but I can't take it any
longer..I simply must tell you all about him. Mainly because
my friends are sick of hearing me burble his praises.
Miah is the sweetest, smartest,
most creative, funniest, most caring human I've ever met. He
waits by the phone until 5am for me to call when I go out with
my friends. He takes care of me when I'm sick. He'll spend a
half hour digging for nickels to buy me a can of Pepsi if I get
thirsty. He knows that if we're driving somewhere and I'm pissy
and won't smile for him, he can put in Guns n Roses or the South
Park soundtrack and it'll perk me right up. He gives mindnumbingly
fantastic backrubs. He opened my mind and ears to all sorts of
fantastic new bands and music styles. He calls me silly names.
He's absolutely beautiful, inside and out. He makes me compliation
tapes of songs that remind him of me, or that we both like, or
that I've mentioned I'd like to have, or that correlate to a
special event for us. He puts up with my Manson fetish. He knows
not only how to dress but how to do his hair and makeup, and
he takes longer in the bathroom getting ready than I do. He kisses
me in his sleep without realizing it, and even if I kick him
in my sleep and steal the covers, he still loves me. He looks
great in my clothes, sometimes better than I do. When Autumn
and I broke up, he was concerned rather than jubulant at having
me all to himself, and when I broke down in tears one night missing
her, he held me and let me talk it out rather than push me away.
He lets me live my own life, and I let him live his. He doesn't
mind when I dress all in vinyl and corsets and whatnot and guys
stare at me. He doesn't whine. He's chivilrous to the point of
rearranging me when we walk in public so he's on the outside
of the sidewalk in case a car plows into us, he'd take most of
it. He holds open doors and calls when he says he will and gives
me the shirt off his back. He's not afraid of public affection,
and he'll hold me and tell me he loves me in front of his friends.
He shares his life with me, taking me to places he's lived, things
that mean something to him, introducing me to his family and
his friends. He's opened his secrets and his scars to my eyes,
and he's helped heal some of mine. He touches my face when he
kisses me, kisses I could drown in happily, and girls....he's
good. (cough)
There was one night, a Friday,
and we were at the Chamber in Cleveland. They had just finished
playing The Tear Garden, followed by what I think was Collide,
and he pulled me off the dance floor against the bar and held
me. We stood there, forehead to forehead and nose to nose and
eye to eye, the way we stand when it's just he and I and nobody
else in the world, just the two of us together heart to heart
and inseperable. I thought he was going to cry, his eyes were
so deep and full of something. I wanted to cry, looking at him.
And it was then and there that he told me that he loved me, for
the first time, and I almost did cry. Actually as it went, I
smacked him because I'd had plans to tell him that I loved him
but the DJ wouldn't play the song I had picked out as background
music and I had to rethink my delivery. But it was really perfect,
and we were even more disgusting the rest of the night than we
usually were. He told me later that he was afraid to tell me,
but the Tear Garden triggered it. His ex kept his TG cd when
he moved here from Bradenton FL and he started thinking about
how much happier I made him than she did, and there you go. He
put "In Search Of My Rose" on the last tape he made
me, and the song makes me weepy because as the chorus says, "No
strings, no ropes, no obligations. I don't owe you, be quite
sure you don't owe me" and that was how he said he lived
his life before he met me. And he changed all that for me, he
didn't want to be like that anymore, he loved me enough to give
that up, and I didn't ask him to.
Later that night a polo-shirted
drunken numbskull kept pursuing me around the dance floor despite
my repeated Glares Of Death (tm). After my third circuit of the
floor, Miah cut him off and saved me. However after the music
stopped and the club started clearing out, the guy wouldn't stop
being an ass. The guy refused to believe that Miah was my boyfriend,
stating that I was too pretty to look at a guy like him, and
basically making a fool of himself. Rather than punch him out,
Miah borrowed the man's cigarette and ground it out on the back
of his own hand, tossing the cig back into the guy's face and
telling him to go home alone and sleep it off. Miah's hand blistered
nicely, and now he has two more scars to add to his collection.
It scares me sometimes, that he would do something like that.
It wasn't like I was about to be molested, he wasn't defending
my physical self, he was just defending our couplehood, I guess.
I often wonder to what lengths he would go if I were actually
in danger of being hurt.
Okay. I think, for the time being,
that I've said everything I have to say, as it is 7am and time
for me to go to sleep. But Miah, I really must tell you that
you are one of the best things that have ever happened to me.
You've made Ohio a better place to live, you've made me a better
person, and you've touched my heart and mind (and other places
as well) and my life with your spirit, and I can't imagine how
my life would be now if I hadn't met you. Sometimes when I'm
reading the letters you write, or listening to your tapes or
looking at all the pictures we've taken together, or even when
I'm sitting next to you or watching you walk towards me when
we're out somewhere, I feel so proud to be with you, so happy
that the smile on your face is for me, so incredibly stricken
by the reality of you that my eyes go glassy with tears. You've
been with me through so much in so little time, and you've held
me up and supported me and I'm starting to believe that everything
truly will be all right, as long as you're with me nothing can
really be all that bad.
