Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Not all clergyman are pedophiles OR Everything I learned about relationships I learned from gypsies swinging foam swords

So it's Tuesday again friends, and you know what that means. At least on the Tuesdays when I actually get around to blogging. YES! It's Taco Time! Time to reveal the story behind yet another hilarious and shockingly true verse in my autobiographical song.

Here's a quick recap of where we've been so far: Gingivities, Ice Cream Man, Fat Mouth-Breather... (for the full lyrics, head over here)

We are now up to the only actual relationship that is depicted in all of Taco Time:

"... and a larping Lutheran priest..."

(Fyi, I know they are not called "priests" in the Lutheran faith. I took a little creative license with that one.)

Oh, where to begin...  I guess with the larping bit. Or actually, with how we met.

Yahoo personals. Nothing glorious or extra special, really. I had a personal, he had a personal, and I want to say that he actually messaged me first? Maybe I messaged him, but his response email was EPIC. And awesome. His profile was incredible, he seemed like the perfect guy, and his picture was of him at the site of a church/home building from a missions trip where he was looking all manly and handy. I couldn't go wrong! We started messaging each other, which turned into computer to computer phone calls, which quickly turned into an every night internet rendezvous where we would talk, and laugh, and flirt and joke and just generally enjoy each others' virtual company.

Two weeks later (I think it really was that soon) we met up. He drove from Rockford to my place and we hung out for the day. When he first got out of the car I was kind of like, "ehh...", but the more time I spent with him the more of the virtual him became evident in the physical him and our night ended with a lovely - if stereotypical - walk along the river followed by a quite lovely and impassioned make out session by against the trunk of the car.



Up there in partial verse I mentioned "larping". Through my Larping Lutheran Priest (LLP from here on out) I discovered NERO - the New England Role-playing Organization. For a theatrical clown like me this was something completely and unexpectedly amazing. Some of you fine folks might not know quite what that is. Either that, or you don't really know what all it entails. Here is a little something for your perusal...

Super nerdy, especially watching this video, but man I fell in love! And not long after our evening chats, weekend visits and a few outings to NERO Chicago, I fell in love with him, too. I fell in love with a handsome man who just so happened to wield a foam sword, dress up like a gypsy and speak in a Romanian accent once a month. Just like a military reservist! Only...notsomuch.


The other cool think about the so-far (up to that point in time) unrivaled in his awesomeness guy - for me - was that he was also a Christian with aspirations of entering the ministry. It's a pretty cool thing, in my book, and especially if a person feels they've been particularly called to serve in that fashion. (This past May he graduated with his degree in Divinity. Something like that? I don't know, he's a Pastor now, is what all that means.)

So things were kinda lovely and perfect for quite sometime. I felt amazing, he said some amazing things (that later could only be assumed to be untrue), but by New Year's Eve, things had taken a turn. A slow turn. A turn that took 8 months to finally complete. It was interesting, really. If I still had access to my old Myspace I'd direct you all to my blog there, because you can very clearly see the demise of the whole relationship. Good times.

After the dwindling of phone calls, less frequent visits and reasons that he simply couldn't make it down, it all came to an end on the 21st of an August. I only remember the date because I was talking on the phone to him whilst walking into my first day of school for the illustrious (seriously!) career as a Surgical Technologist. Yep. Old as shit (he was... I don't know, upper mid 30's then?) STILL living with his parents, and he broke up with me over the phone like a champ.


I was gonna say that it's sad that this story isn't funnier, but then I just wrote that last line up there and remembered how frakkin' hilarious it really is. Don't forget about the sword-fighting in the woods as a disenchanted do-gooder gypsy, either, 'cause that shit is golden. (although like I said, I actually do thoroughly enjoy that stuff!)

That was years ago now, and I have clearly moved on. I'd like to say to bigger and better things, but those two words "bigger" and "better" don't really have the most positive of meanings when referencing the things I've moved on to. I mean, hello! "Taco Time", anyone?

Ah well, everything that has gone before has ushered me forth onto the amazing journey I've been on thus far. Won't look a gift horse in the mouth. Unless, of course, he's sitting across the table from me at some nightmare breakfast/lunch/dinner catastrophe and my exit is being blocked and there is something in his ginormous teeth that looks like the remnants of the paint chips he ate as a kid. Like a train wreck, I would be incapable of doing anything but looking straight into that mug.

You're beautiful, people. Really. All... several of you. And Dad. Love ya! Thanks for reading...


NEXT TACO TUESDAY! What happens when preshrunk isn't OR Cockblocked by boogers. Stay tuned.

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