Meet Stitch Dick

I recently hired a surrogate support system/internet mother; she's prettier than I am and had my human before I did. 

And I'm okay with that because she also cooks.

But before I found my femme surrogate semantic structuring suburban self via the inadvertent influence of the internet, I had stitch dick.

meet stitch dick

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stitch dick was my subpar semi-submissive super surrogate male "maternal" figure for almost a decade.

I met him the night after I was sexually assaulted and was self medicating with dicks and drinks.

[aka: my 19th birthday]

A lot of life happened to both of us and four years later we bought a house to hate each other in.

Years before that we were publicly physically assaulting each other dressed as leprechauns in downtown Toronto. 

Somewhere in between we signed paperwork for financial gain.

[aka: we declared common law]

And acquired domestic dissonance distractions.

[aka: dogs]

It has been several hundred calendar days since I've had to see stitch dick in the flesh, but the digital dealings have been dumb, delayed and definitely distastefully drawn out.

The Distastefully Drawn-out Context? An N13 is an eviction notice. 

stitch dick just received one (and so did I).

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I moved out the first time in February 2016 and the final time in October 2016.

But I moved on in October 2015. 

I received the above notice August 2018.

I have been emotionally and physically exhausted because seven hours after receiving that, my father went in for heart surgery.

Not his first time.

He's fine.

But August 3rd was not.

And my mind immediately began crafting such a poisonous post that when I read it the next morning, the first thing that came to mind was revenge porn.

It wasn't and wouldn't have been, but the fact that I had to ask myself "could this be?" was answer enough.

That's when I realized that the entire emphasis of this endeavour would be evaded because the intellectual dissonance between myself and subordinate is so severe, my rhetoric was rarely retained.

*TL;DR - MESSAGE FOR SKIPPY*

Don't worry - I won't ruin your life.

You've got that covered. 

And I've got a great human that I happily give so much head space to because he's worthy.

So, still segmenting any more for [stitch] dicks from darker days feels foolish and I'm independently internally deeming insulting. 

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Taylor Oakes