When I was around five or six years old, I was sitting on the couch with my aunt, watching a television show I can’t remember. At the time, I was still perfecting my ability to read, so I was dedicated to reading every single word that showed up on the screen aloud, whether it be on signs, subtitles, or whatever. Well, wouldn’t you know it, the word “Ass” came up on the screen, and I read it aloud before I could realize what the word was. My aunt whipped around to face me with her jaws gaped, though the expression was more of a mixture of shock and amusement than anger. Still, I was so horrified with myself for saying a “bad word” that I ran to the bathroom and locked myself in the dark.
My aunt knocked on the door, laughing her ass off as she managed to wheeze, “Fish, what are you doin? Come back to the couch, it’s okay! You’re not in trouble.”
I shook my head firmly as tears welled up in my eyes. “I said a bad word, so now I have to be in time-out”. I whimpered back.
I remember that night pretty vividly. It’s hard to forget when your aunt brings it up every couple of months. Looking back, I’d definetly overreacted. I mean, “ass” can technically be used in family friendly terms, lol.
In my aunt’s eyes, it was a cute, silly moment. But for me it was the beginning of a bad habit of mine: Self-punishment.
It’s not so much of a problem now as it was in my teenage years, but I grew up in a very disciplined, authoritarian household. Unfortunately, my developing brain took a drastic interpretation of this disipline thing, and learned that if I did something wrong, I had to punish myself to either make up for it, or train myself to stop doing this bad thing. Now, where am I going with this?
Well, “Zoophile” was a bad word for me.
I mentioned before that I thought being attracted to animals was a perfectly normal thing, and I truly believed that in my youth. But once I became an adult and fell head over heels for Rio, I started to think that maybe it wasn’t so normal after all. I mean, others’ would have talked about it, right? So why did my family seem so uncomfortable and disgusted when I made out with my dog? Why was I the only one that seemed to blabber on and on about my lover, while everyone else just showed a couple of pictures and moved on? Then I inevitably came across bestiality porn, and got incredibly aroused by a Rottweiler banging another woman. Once I’d come to my senses, it finally dawned on me: What the fuck was I doing getting horny over a dog?
Well, a couple of Google searches later, I was lead to the word “Zoophile”. A word that had been associated in my brain with “Evil, psycho, desperate loner, rapist”. At first I laughed it off, thinking it couldn’t possibly be true. I figured that I just really loved animals. That my wet dreams were just that: Dreams. That my odd fascination with animal sex was just a normal quirk, a secret desire that every woman had. But the more I thought about it, the less I could deny it. I wanted to have sex with dogs. I viewed Rio not as a pet or furry friend, but a lover, a life partner. Videos of mating animals made me horny for God’s sake. How many other women could say the same? It wasn’t like I could ask, but judging by my mother’s bloodthirst for zoophiles, I assumed it wasn’t many.
So denial was out of the question. There was no playing it off or saying I was normal. I‘m sexually attracted to animals, and that’s that.
It was time to lock myself in the bathroom. Metaphorically this time.
For around two weeks, I tried to distance myself from Rio. He was meant to be a pet and nothing more. No kisses on the mouth, no flirting, no tapping his butt, no cuddling, I would sleep on the couch, etc. I vowed to put a distance between us for his safety.
Long story short: I was fucking miserable. He’d smile at me and wag his tail, and my mind would be filled with nothing but conflicting thoughts. You’re a danger to him. Stay away. You’re a disgusting monster. What the fuck is wrong with you? He’s miserable. He doesn’t know why you’re avoiding him. You’ll hurt him no matter what you do.
I was absolutely disgusted with myself. I wanted to love him as usual, but I felt that if I touched him, I’d be defiling him. It felt as though my skin was coated in the deadliest of poisons, and if I got too close to him, he’d be dead in an instant. The idea that I was the psychopathic animal rapist I’d heard so much about horrified me. I didn’t want to hurt Rio, I didn’t want to have these desires, and I sure as Hell didn’t want to be a bad person.
My mind echoed day in and day out with negative thoughts. Friends asked me what was wrong, but I just told them I hadn’t slept well, which wasn’t a complete lie. When they pressed further, I could feel myself getting nauseous. It felt as though I was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, an evil secretly lurking among them. They were all normal, yet there I was, this filthy animal defiler, no better than a pedophile. Keep in mind, I’d never really had sexual contact with an animal at this point, but the disgust didn’t take mind of that. Just thinking about wanting to have sex with animals was enough for me to punish myself. No matter what I did, the negative thoughts in the back of my brain insisted that I was a monster that needed to be dealt with.
I couldn’t focus on my studies or my work. I wasn’t hungry. I considered therapy, but I didn’t want to risk my life being over before it even really started. Every time I looked at Rio, a sense of dread overwhelmed me. I didn’t want to be near him if I was a danger to him, but avoiding him seemed to make things just as bad. He was getting visibly depressed without my usual overbearing affection, but it’s not like I could tell him straight out, “It’s not you, baby. You did nothing wrong, I’m just trying to be careful with you. I’m sick right now. There’s something wrong with me.”.
I was at a loss for what I was supposed to do.
Rio never gave up on me, despite my internal loathing. I’d kept myself locked tight in that bathroom, but he always kept knocking. He would find ways to get my attention, try to cuddle, look up at me with sad, almost empathetic eyes.
After a couple weeks, I finally broke. It happened when I tucked Rio into the bed as usual. After he’d passed out, I snuck out of the bed to sleep on the couch by myself. But that morning, I woke up to Rio snoring soundly at my feet. At that moment, the ache in my chest had become overwhelming. I couldn’t bear to lock myself away for any longer. After weeks of hiding away, I finally reached over to stroke his head just as I used to. He perked awake with his tail wagging.
I’ve had some time to think rationally since then. At the time, I’d panicked. Just like when I was a child, I heard a bad word and immediately went straight to punishing myself. But once I finally stepped out of the bathroom and took a breath, I got the chance to look at the situation fully.
Had I ever harmed Rio before? No. Had I ever even had sexual contact with him? No. Was I a desperate loner? While I may have had no interest in romance with humans, I still had friends and family that I hung out with often. Was I a psychopath? While I’ve been told I appear to be (lol), I know I can experience empathy, I know myself to be an understanding and caring human being, despite my cold exterior.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was nothing like the caricature of a zoophile I’d pictured in my mind. Nothing about me had changed. I was still a nerdy woman that loved anime, stayed up too late writing crappy novels, loved my boy more than anything, hiked any chance I got, and spent my days getting my ass whooped in console games with friends when I wasn’t working or in school. Really all that had changed was that I’d put a name on a feeling I’d had since puberty.
Life would go on. The sun still shone, the rain still poured, and the earth still spun in circles. Rio still loved me regardless of my orientation. He still wanted to cuddle and make out and steal my pretzels. He was happy with me regardless. So why was I making myself miserable? Why was I punishing myself for an evil that wasn’t there? Just like when I was a child, I’d made things into a much bigger deal than they really were.
I guess once I took a step back and realized that my orientation didn’t define me, it wasn’t that hard to accept myself for who I was.
My sexual orientation isn’t a hindrance on my life. It’s not a burden to my lover, to my family, to my friends, or even to myself. It doesn’t make me a rapist or a psychopath or whatever other label is out there for zoophiles. It’s just a small piece of the pie, a fraction of the whole dessert.
We’re made the way we are for a reason. We may not ever know what the reason is, but each and every one of us has been carefully crafted by whatever’s out there, if there’s anything out there at all. For some weird reason, I was made with a taste for dogs. I don’t think I’ll ever know why. But what I do know is that I’m not a monster. I bleed red when I’m sliced into. My tears still taste of salt, I have the same reluctance to harm as anyone else, I have my hopes, my dreams, my fears, my favorite food and my favorite weather...
If there ever comes a day where I do hurt Rio, then I can deal with the consequences then. But as of now, I have yet to see that happen. Despite all the bullshit he has to go through, his undying affection towards me gives me faith that everything is just fine. That I’m not a danger to him. That the way I was made isn’t a problem for him, so it shouldn’t be for me.
Whatever the reason I was made this way, I’m willing to go with the flow and see where the road takes me. That’s all we’re doing in the end: Floating aimlessly along the river the universe made for us.
Honestly, with the euphoria I get just from sitting beside Rio and stroking the fur along his back, I wouldn’t change a thing.
Whew! This was draining to write. Not just cause it required me to be more vulnerable, but it was a lot longer than intended, lol.
I feel like I haven’t really properly expressed myself in this one. Then again, it’s pretty difficult to write about emotional instability, especially because it’s just so irrational. There’s really little I can think of that embodies the feeling perfectly. Maybe I’d compare it to a hurricane of sorts: Unpredictable, cruel, without reason.
Anyways, I’ve seen a lot of people as of late talk about feeling shame or disgust when it comes to their orientation/fetish. Well, I’ve been there, as you can see. You’ve got two options to get rid of those negative feelings: Either find a professional to help you through it, or step out of the bathroom and look at the bigger picture.
I wish you safe travels on your own road to self-acceptance, or any other road you decide to take
If it wasn’t blatantly obvious by now, I’m a canine zoophile. There are other animals I’m sexually attracted to, but dogs and other canines really take the cake. Despite that, I can acknowledge a fine species when I see one. More specifically, cats.
I’m writing about this now because lo and behold, I’m watching over my friend’s cat (Who we’ll call Luna) for the rest of the week, which means not only is Rio going to be a jealous little shit for the rest of the week, but I get to take off work and relax for once, lol.
Humor aside, it’s been pretty interesting to interact with a cat again. I never got much time with cats as a kid, as my parents thought they were gross. But I enjoyed feeding and playing with the strays growing up, and I still do. There was one in particular who was popular with all the neighborhood kids. He’d always piss my dad off when he left paw prints on his windshield, but I thought it was pretty funny. He was a sweet old cat, and I was pretty sad when he eventually stopped showing up in our yard. Hope he’s fat and happy wherever he is now.
Anyways, I’ve always found cats incredibly beautiful. Not in a sexual light (I don’t find much sexually attractive about a tiny creature with a sandpaper tongue and needle-like claws), but I don’t think anyone could really deny that cats are gorgeous animals. They walk with this sort of natural grace most animals don’t possess, their pelts come in a variety of striking patterns and colors, and those eyes are like these mystifying orbs that could cut you with their stare.
Despite my fascination, I have a pretty hard time understanding them. I grew up with dogs my entire life, so I’ve pretty much grown up speaking their language. But cats? I may as well try spending the day with a Russian.
I have very basic knowledge on cat behaviors and body language. Other than that, they’re incredibly unpredictable to me. One second they’ll want nothing to do with me, then they’re crawling up my shirt purring the next. So as you can imagine, I get this sense of unease around them. I never know if I’m meeting all their needs, what they want from me, if they actually like me.
Luckily, Luna seems fairly easy to read. She’s constantly after my attention (So much so that this blog is being interrupted as I write, lol), she’s a bit of a chonker so food is a must, and she’s incredibly curious, as most cats are. She’s absolutely digging my keyboard right now, lol. Rio’s friendly with her, but he’s not too happy that she’s stealing my attention. He has a goofy habit of nosing people and animals away from me whenever they get too close, and he’s been pushing her away pretty frequently. I’m thankful he’s not aggressive about it, but Luna’s still not having it. I guess this is what it feels like to be stuck in a love triangle, lol.
But I actually enjoy Luna’s company, despite not having a full understanding of her language. She’s quite cuddly, and warmed up to me pretty fast. Her footsteps are so quiet, so anytime she jumps up on the couch to greet me, it’s like a surprise hug from behind: Startling, but heartwarming nonetheless. She actually almost made me drop my lunch today, as she launched herself onto my dining table without warning, and scared the hell out of me. I’m so used to Rio’s loud clambering throughout the house, so her delicate footsteps are definitely something to get used to. Oh, and her gentle purrs are so sweet. I love it when cats purr. It’s such a delicate, warm sound, if that makes any sense.
In a lot of ways, cats kind of remind me of myself: They’re often misunderstood by their cold and prickly exterior, and many believe they’re unloving creatures who prefer to be isolated. But I think once you take the time to get to know them and understand their language, they melt like butter. You just gotta give them some time, and a reason to trust you.
Why hello there, my readers! I’ve awoken from the dead!
Now that I get a bit of a break, I’m going to try writing a few blog entires. It’s so nice to be able to sit around and hang out with animals again after running around on my feet 24/7, lol. I’m planning on taking Rio for a walk this evening since he’s been so sweet to Luna (Except for when he goes into jealousy mode).
How are y’all doing this fine Thursday? I’m hoping it’s going great for y’all. And if not, just know that eventually, you’ll get a few days of relaxation to make up for it. Could be tomorrow or a few years from now, but it’ll happen eventually. “This too, shall pass”
I’ll be honest, I have no idea why I turned out this way. I mean, I can make some pretty good guesses, but at the same time, I don’t think I’ll ever know the absolute reason why. I personally think I was just born this way. That it was coded into my brain and activated the moment puberty hit. But I wouldn’t be surprised if there were other reasons. I could have “imprinted” on Nana as a child, if that’s a thing. Maybe one too many Animal Planet documentaries. Or Disney movies. I’d be lying if I said my childhood didn’t have its issues with abuse and neglect, but that’s for a later story.
Whatever the reason, I ended up a zoophile, plain and simple. And looking back, I’m pretty sure the signs were there.
First there’s the normal kid stuff. You know, the usual “I refuse to watch or read anything without animals in it”, “If there’s dogs in the room you can kiss my attention good-bye”, and “The family dog is actually my little brother/sister” (My parents had fun explaining to the teachers that no, my brothers were not forced to take shits outside, I was talking about dogs).
All of that is relatively normal for a kid to go through. I think most kids can safely say they adore animals, and I was one of them. I wanted to be a veterinarian when I grew up (That dream died when I realized I’d have to be the one putting animals down too), I would wake up at around 4 or 5 every morning before school just to catch the newest episode of Meerkat Manor, and all of the stories I wrote about would be filled with nothing but wolves, dogs, and foxes. There was this game in my family, where a family member would ask about an animal, and I would proudly start babbling everything I knew about the species. Then of course, there was my pride in being an “animal whisperer”.
There were some unusual bits. For one, I would sleep with the family dog in the kennel with them, and my mother would have to drag me out. I don’t think a lot of seven year old girls would find such a cold, hairy, smelly place all that appealing for sleep, lol. Then there were the times I would profess my love for the family dog and go on and on about how I’d marry a dog when I grew older. I’m pretty sure this genuinely concerned my mother, cause she quickly put that to a stop.
As a young child, my relationship with animals had been fairly innocent. Even when I began kissing, it started out with innocent intentions. I felt my kisses would be more genuine for my dog companions if I did it with my tongue rather than my lips, so that was how it initially started.
Growing up in a family that never went a year without a new animal in the house, they eventually just became a part of my family. Still to this day, I’ve never really considered my animal companions to be my pets or possessions. And I think even non-zoos can agree with that sentiment. Growing up, they’ve always been my brothers and sisters. Even the more exotic ones like the hamsters and fish, lol.
But things started to change when the idea of sex started becoming more prominent in my life.
I discovered porn by accident on a tablet of mine when I was around 8 or 9. I think I’d clicked on a bad ad or something, but I remember when I first saw it, I couldn’t help but laugh. My first thought was, ‘What are these freakshows doing? Is he sticking his privates in hers?! That’s so weird! Why would they do that? Wait, there’s more?”
Luckily before I could delve deeper into the rabbit hole, my mama discovered my search history and sat me down to have the talk. Fun.
I didn’t think much of it at first. All I knew was that my classmates suddenly wouldn’t shut up about this “sex” thing, and my mom was really uncomfortable about the topic. So much so, that she took my internet privileges away until I was muuuch older, lmao. Which I’m honestly kind of grateful for seeing what the internet does to kids these days. Anyways, sex didn’t really interest me all that much at that age. It just seemed weird to me.
That changed pretty quick once puberty came around.
There was that normal kind of desire most preteens got at that age. A desire for humans, I mean. It was pretty short, I remember, but it was there. After the initial heat wore off and I realized romance and sex with people didn’t sound all that appealing after all, I was back to paying sex no mind. With humans, that is. Animals were another story.
I have a pretty vivid memory of when I think I first felt sexual desire for animals. I was watching an animal documentary by myself at home about some lions on an African Savanna. I was immersed in the story, when suddenly a scene came on where the lions began to mate with each other. And that made me feel all kinds of warm in places I wasn’t expecting. A strange sense of arousal came over me, and being the curious kid I was, I rewinded the scene. Again and again. Over and over until I’d had the scene thoroughly engraved in my mind. And for the rest of my teenage years, I was eagerly keeping my eyes peeled for anymore mating scenes.
Normally, most people would feel guilty or shameful about that kind of thing. But at the time, I didn’t really know about zoophilia and bestiality. I knew it was something people joked about, but I didn’t really know the legality or stigma behind it.
So when I began to dream of sex with animals and my “Playboy” became a dog encyclopedia (Thanks, Auntie. Lmao), I didn’t really think much of it. I just thought, “Okay, so I’m into dogs too. I’m sure everyone else has the hots for Rottweilers.”
Honest to God, I thought it was perfectly normal. That’s just how natural it felt to me. I assumed that everyone else was like me and found themselves getting flustered around a fine lookin’ dog. There was no guilt, no shock, none of that. I just grew up with a thing for dogs, and since the subject never came up and I’ve never been open about my attractions anyways, I never really revealed it to anyone. It was just there, never really being fully acknowledged or dwelled upon.
But when the subject did occasionally come up, I never registered that I was being talked about. People always sensationalized zoophilia and bestilaity. They described zoophiles as mentally ill, lonely, unstable monsters that only wanted to hurt animals or use them as a convenient fleshlight. And I would feel disgusted right along with them, wondering who in the world would be cruel enough to want to rape an animal. I never really connected the dots back to myself, because I knew that I loved animals, and I didn’t want to ever cause them pain, especially not with something like rape.
I’d set up two different pictures in my head entirely. One of people loving and being sexually attracted to animals, and another of monsters who only wanted to hurt animals. And that picture stayed in my mind until many years into the future, when I became an adult and finally learned that I was supposed to be one of the animal abusing monsters. That my desire for sex with my dog was a supposed mental illness. That viewing animals as lovers was abnormal, sick.
It had never felt strange or wrong to me. I didn’t realize that it was supposed to be such a hindrance on my life.
Welp, considering everyone that knows me brightly remarks on how Rio and me are crazy about each other, I have to seriously question if the caricature of a zoophile is really all that accurate.
If I could come up with a good metaphor for this, I’d say my zoophilia is a lot like the color of my skin. Where I am, it’s not all that common, but I blend in overall. Every now and then, it’ll catch the attention of others, and even myself, but it remains relatively unimportant in my life. It’s just kinda here, absorbing sunlight as I go on about my day. I can acknowledge that having darker skin can have its disadvantages in life, but in reality, it’s rarely caused me problems. As long as I don’t bring attention to it, most others do the same.
I like to think that my orientation is similar in a way: Just kind of existing and not bringing much attention to itself in the real world. In some ways it kind of sucks, but in others, I don’t think I’d want to be any other way. I mean, how many people in the world can say they’ve lived life through the eyes of a zoophile? That in itself is pretty surreal if you think about it.
Hey y’all! To make up for the late updates as of recent, here’s another for the week! Also, I figured something more light and interesting would make for a nice refresher after the last post.
Speaking of my last post, thank you to everyone who reached out with such supportive messages. Y’all are way too sweet, haha. But really, it meant a lot to me.
Anywho, lord knows when I’ll be updating again, but I don’t plan on dropping this anytime soon. So just know that if things are taking a while, it’s not because I’m dead, lol. I can assure you that I’m very much alive and kicking.
Until next time, my amazing readers
Just a head’s up, this is a pretty depressing story. If that’s not your thing, I recommend sitting this one out.
I’ve mentioned this once or twice on the forum, but it’s not something I’ve ever felt comfortable going into depth about, as it’s a pretty tough subject for me that I don’t like dwelling on. But I figured I had to get this out at some point for future reference. And who knows? Maybe I’m not alone, and there’s someone else out there who needs to know they’re not alone either.
I don’t remember what I was doing that day. I just remember being in my room when I heard a loud thud and what sounded like hacking coming from the living room. My roommate wasn’t home. At first I thought Rio was just being a goofball by himself as usual. So I went out in the living room to play with him, but he was far from being in a goofy mood.
He was convulsing uncontrollably on the floor, foaming at the mouth. His eyes were terrified, and I suddenly felt my stomach drop. I dropped on the floor beside him, but I didn’t touch him because I had no idea what the Hell was going on. Looking around, it didn’t look like he’d gotten into anything. I frantically called my roommate as he suffered before me, and she told me to call the hospital so I did.
I felt tears well up in my eyes. I wanted to help him, but I had no fucking clue what was happening. Eventually, the shaking stopped, and I would stroke his head and tell him everything was alright. He’d look up at me, his eyes no longer glistening and full of energy like they usually were. Within moments he was back on the floor convulsing as if he was being struck by lightning over and over and over again. By the time I managed to pack him up in the car and drive him to the vet, I was fully convinced he was going to die. And that was fucking horrifying to think about. That it could have been my fault. That he could have died under my watch. That he suffered and I was powerless to save him.
And those thoughts put a huge slice in my heart.
We later learned it was epilepsy. Genetic, and no cure. All we could do was stuff him with a concoction of pills. Pills so expensive that my roommate was willing to give him away.
At this point, I’d already dedicated so much to this dog. I’d practically raised him. We did everything together. I was just starting to develop more romantic feelings for him. He was my light, and in the moment he needed me most, we were gonna be separated? Hell no.
It didn’t take much to convince her to just give me ownership. I told her I’d make it work. She didn’t have to help with the bills if she didn’t want to. I’d find a way to keep him alive and back to his happy, playful self. Of course, getting the money was a brutal process. I’m beyond lucky to have a supportive family that was willing to help me out financially. I did quite a bit of selling, putting in overtime, started a small fundraiser (Thank God my family tree is big enough to populate a whole continent, lol) etc. until I was saved up enough to where I would be able to get the medicine he needed for quite a few months, and save up more slowly from there.
That day still makes me feel sick. Things are better now, and it’s been a long time since Rio’s last seizure. The few times he does get an episode, I actually know what to do this time.
But it’s hard, knowing he’s suffering like that. And if we’re being honest, if the epilepsy doesn’t kill him, the pills might. His kidneys get worse as the days go by after all the strain that medication does on them, and he’s having a harder and harder time getting onto the couch or walking up the stairs. I’ve asked the vet if there’s anything I can do, any alternative, and she’s told me there’s not. I’ve stupidly tried weaning him off the pills and lessening the amount he gets, and it always results in another seizure. I’m trapped between two evils.
It’s like I’m back at that day again, watching him in agony and being helpless to stop the pain. Only, it’s slower this time.
But despite all the bullshit he’s going through, he’s smiling and wagging his tail anyways. You know how crazy that is? How fucking depressing that is? That he goes through all that, and never once has he whimpered, never has he cried. All he does is smile and wag his little stub of a tail, jumping to lick my face every though I can see how much he strains to do so. It’s so cruel. He didn’t do anything to deserve such a condition. He’s the most precious creature you’ll ever meet. Why him? And why do I have to watch him slowly die and grow weaker and weaker as the days go on? Why did I have to fall in love with a dog that’s going to die in a couple of years?
Even in same-species relationships, people can fall for someone with a special condition that complicates things. I myself have a reproductive issue that causes me extreme agony every now and then. I imagine if I had a human partner, they’d feel this same sense of helplessness, this same sense of not doing enough as your loved one slowly dies from the inside out.
I just wish he didn’t have to be in so much pain. I wish we could go back to the puppy days where he could go on walks for as long as he wanted without limping by the end. I wish he’d at least pretend to be in pain every now and then, and stop smiling as if nothing’s wrong, as if everything’s fine when it’s not.
More and more, I keep imagining the day he dies. It haunts me like a ghost lurking under the bed. I don’t want him to go. Not in such a cruel way. It chokes me up just thinking about it. He’s become such a heavy presence in my life. It’s as if he’s always been here. I can’t bear to think about how empty things will feel when he’s gone. I know I’d recover over time, but I’m not prepared to feel such a harsh blow.
I’ve lost dogs before. Some ran away, others were given away. A couple passed from cancer or old age. I loved them, but none of them can come close to what Rio has brought to my life.
I’ll keep following Rio’s example and smiling through the pain. He deserves all the good memories he can get. I’d never want to be sad in front of him when he still manages to wag his tail and play with me. But it won’t be long now before he’s gone. And that looming thought makes my blood run cold.
Hey ya’ll. Sorry if there’s any errors in this one. Usually I go back a couple times for editing, but this isn’t one I want to read through multiple times. Also, sorry again for the super late update! I’m not dead, I swear, lol.
I haven’t heard of any zoos in a similar situation to mine yet. But if there is anyone out there who has a partner with problems, I hope things get better for you and your partner. I really do.
Thank you for reading. Goodnight
I woke up to the rumble of thunder this morning
Like a heart pounding against the sky
The rain always makes me sentimental
Lord knows why
As I sit here typing away
Your eyes are fixed on the window
You don’t dare remove your gaze
From the surreal, breathtaking view
Of the world taking a shower
What’s on your mind?
It’s a question I ask daily
What’s on your mind?
Your silence is my only reply
Do you find the rain beautiful?
Or is it merely bad weather
Yesterday the sun was shining
But you seem to like today better
The dismal downpour soothes me
Reminds me of calmer days
I see the showers in your eyes
Feel the thunder in your heartbeat
What’s on your mind?
It’s a question I ask daily
What’s on your mind?
You turn and your eyes meet me
Hey, it’s me again!
What is this, you may ask? Well, inspiration called and I couldn’t help but reply. I am far from a poet, but I like to write these little snippets of...whatever this is supposed to be every now and then.
Two of my favorite things the in the world: Rain and Rio. I couldn’t resist the chance to write it down.
Anywho, the rain was pretty short-lived. It’s dyin down bit by bit. Hope ya’ll are havin a peaceful weekend as well, whatever the weather
It’s that time of the year again. That time of the year where everything is hectic, and there’s hardly room for a break.
In case you couldn’t tell, I was pretty behind on my normal posting schedule. Lots of stuff has been going on in my life, which isn’t surprising, but I’ve been kept on my toes for the past couple of weeks. It’ll pay off in the end, but as of now, I’m pretty burnt out.
But today there was a lull in the chaotic storm that is my life. It was a bright sunny day without a single cloud littering the oceanic blue sky. A faint breeze cooled the mild spring air. It was the perfect day for a walk with Rio. I got out his harness and asked, “You wanna go for a walk?”
A huge grin crept up on his face and his tail began to wag at a mile a minute.
There are two things I love to do with Rio. The first is sleeping with him (I mean that literally, you perverts), and the second is taking him out on walks.
Admittedly, I’m a bit of a nature nut. Being outside around the natural world always rejuvenates my fire, and I find that I’m able to clear my ever-cluttered mind. As for Rio, he’s always been a bit of an outside dog. Like me, he hates being cooped up for too long. One of his favorite things to do is go outside and just bathe in the sun. And there are times where I’ll sit beside him in silence, listening to nothing but his quiet snores and the lullabies of mourning doves.
Sometimes we’ll take trails. Sometimes we’ll drive out into the country to explore what the world has to offer. In the summers, I take him out to the rivers and lakes to play in the water, although he’s not a very strong swimmer, so I have to be careful to keep him in the shallow parts, lol. I’ve tried to take him out camping a couple of times, but we both ended up miserable by the end of it, lol. He’s a terrible tent sleeper, and being out in cougar country with just me and my aloof dork of a dog boyfriend isn’t a very comforting experience. So I usually just stick to camping with me and the rest of my family.
But today we just went around the park in my neighborhood. It’s not a particularly large park, but it’s still got its charm. There are the trees that I climb in every now and then to come up with ideas for my newest novel (writing’s just a hobby of mine, not a full-time job, lol), there’s the pool that hasn’t been open in over a year, and the basketball court where the neighborhood kids flock to every evening. The grass is always lush and green, and there’s always plenty of new things for Rio to sniff around and explore.
As we walked today, Rio’s little hips swayed sassily from side to side, his smile falling off his face. His tongue spilled over the side of his mouth, and I couldn’t help but snicker at how goofy he looked. Every now and then, he stopped in the middle of the path to look back at me and make sure I was still following him. I chuckled and remarked, “I’m right here, sweetness. You don’t have to keep stopping.”
But he continued to check on me anyways, glancing back at me with his smooth chocolate eyes sparkling amber in the warm spring sun.
You know, we once got a very angry person on the forum. Maybe they were a troll, or maybe just a troubled spirit, but nonetheless, I debated them on interspecies relationships. They argued that you couldn’t possibly have a lasting and fulfilling relationship with an animal, that they lack the complexity and depth human relationships have. They’re simple creatures that couldn’t possibly understand your problems or offer you advice or think on your level.
And I told him that it was that complexity that drove me away from human relationships in the first place. It’s the simplicity of interspecies relationships that fulfill me personally.
I wasn’t pulling shit out of my ass when I told him that.
I don’t want someone who constantly complicates things in my life. I tire myself out intellectually, so I can’t even begin to imagine trying to date someone on my level, which isn’t easy to find in itself. I don’t need someone to give me advice. I have my mother for that. I don’t want someone to constantly have deep conversations with. I have enough of those going on in my own brain. I don’t need someone to coddle me or spoil me. I’m the one who does all the spoiling, thank you very much. I don’t need a grand gesture to feel happy or to fall for someone. It all just exhausts me or makes me feel uncomfortable.
I don’t want that complexity.
I just need someone who’s here. Who’s in the moment. Someone who can make me smile without even trying to. Someone who can relax me just by being themselves. Someone who doesn’t need me to be anything I’m not, someone who I can love and spoil as much as I please free of complications. Someone simple. Someone real.
Don’t get me wrong, my relationship with Rio has its complexities. I mean, we’re two entirely different species for God’s sake.
But the feelings between us are raw. Unfiltered. They’re blunt and simple. There’s nothing to hide, no fine print. If I could compare it to anything, I’d say it’s a lot like honey. It’s so simple, yet it’s so sweet. Golden. Soothing.
Whenever I go out on my walks with Rio, life feels a lot like that. Like honey. Where everything is simple and sweet. And all the tangled complexities within my mind and in my world don’t seem all that complex after all. I see his face, and that’s all it takes to shake my soul. He’s stolen my heart without even trying. And that’s what I love about him. That he doesn’t have to try, doesn’t need to change. He’s just here.
It’s intimate. It’s freeing. Just the two of us, enjoying each others’ company, exploring the world around us through such different eyes.
It’s just Rio, me, and that bittersweet evening breeze.
Hey y’all! So sorry about the late update! As I said in the beginning of this post, things got real crazy last week. There’s still more work to come, so things are gonna get pretty wonky. But I figured I’d share this beautiful moment with you. It’s a wonderful feeling, being able to spend time with the one you love.
Here’s to more simple and sweet moments to come
When I first started this blog, I was pretty much expecting to just be talking to myself.
Before starting it, I’d looked around at the other resources on the forum to get a feel for things. There was always the initial hype on the first two or three posts, and then things usually went dead from there, with few exceptions. I wasn’t too surprised. I mean, who reads anymore? Lol. Anywho, I told myself that it was fine if nobody read my stories. I could always just do this for myself. I mean, it’s not like I can ever tell these to anyone irl, so it’s nice to get all those bottled up tales and emotions off my chest.
When I posted the opening post of “The Fish Tank”, I admit that I was nervous. Was I doing it right? How would people react? Should I quit and turn back? Maybe I should wait a bit longer.
But nonetheless, I decided to keep things running no matter what the result, determined to see where things would take me.
As you can imagine, I was pleasantly surprised by the positive reaction.
Next thing I know, I’m getting reviews. Actual reviews! I had members post such kind messages on my profile, and I was left in awe by their sincerity. Then after a while, the PMs started popping up in my inbox, one after the other like little gifts under the Christmas tree in the middle of July. Some telling me how much you related to certain bits, some expressing praise, and some telling stories of your own. Some even thanked me for my writing. Never imagined that would be a thing, lol. I’m the one who should be thanking y’all.
Each and every message brightened up my days, motivated me to keep looking forward and gave me confidence to step out of my comfort zone a bit, believe it or not. Keep in mind, I’m just a regular person on the other side of this screen. There’s nothing really extraordinary about me. If I were in a video game, I’d just be another NPC wandering around the map without a clue. I blend in with the average crowd, not too flashy, but not too boring. Just stuck in the middle of the spectrum of people in this world. I don’t consider myself to be all that charming or interesting really. I’m just one of y’all.
So you can only imagine how overwhelming it is when you have a bunch of internet strangers telling you that your stories resonate with them, that they inspire them to try new things and push past their limits. It’s so crazy to me. You guys are all so sweet and kind, and I absolutely love reading your stories. Stories about past and present lovers, current issues at home, “First times”, whatever you feel like you just need to let out.
It’s such a beautiful thing. I’m up here blabbering away about my own experiences, and yet you all have such unique and moving stories of your own. The fact that you share them with me of all people is inspiring in itself. To think that I didn’t really expect any reception from starting a blog, and yet I’ve had the pleasure of meeting and interacting with so many amazing members. If someone like me could start up something so simple and get people talking and connecting, anyone can do it, lol. And that’s such a surreal thing to think about.
So I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for sharing your stories with me. Thank you for your kind words and your reviews. Thank you for having the courage to even just pop in my inbox and say hello. It means a lot to me. It’s an inspiring thing, seeing you all come together and try to connect.
I expected to be speaking on an empty stage when I started all this. I’m grateful that I got an audience as incredible as y’all. One that doesn’t just sit there and listen, but one that wants to connect and speak their own truths. One that wants to engage. And that’s the best kind of audience in my opinion.
You guys worked up the courage and confidence to hit me up and talk to me personally, so I felt it was only fair to give y’all an extra special “Thanks”.
I’m wishing you all bright days wherever you’re hanging out in the world
I’ve noticed this question appears every now and then in the Kingdom of ZooVille. Something along the lines of, “Have you ever noticed that animals seem to prefer you over other people?”
And my answer to the question has always been, “Yep”.
I don’t think there’s really any scientific evidence that animals like hanging around zoophiles (or zoosexuals, whatever ya prefer), and I’ve seen a few zoos say they haven’t noticed a difference in how animals interact with them compared to other people. However, for me, I’ve definetly noticed that animals tend to be more attracted to me than the other people in their lives. And so have those around me. My sister used to get so angry at me because I was constantly “stealing” animals from her, lol.
I noticed the change in my relationship with animals after the “Nana Period” in my life. Aside from the fact that I was suddenly obsessed with learning all there was to know about animals, I noticed that they started to like me a lot more than they did others. So much so, that my family members would praise me for it, and I would get so proud of myself for being a mini “Animal whisperer”.
Shortly after Nana’s absence, my grandparents were extra nice and decided to get a hamster (We’ll call her Ham) for the family’s kids to share.
Long story short, she quickly went from “The Family Hamster” to “Fish’s Hamster”. And that’s not a joke, my family literally referred to her as my hamster within the first few weeks of getting her. Still to this day, she’s known as my hamster. Until the day she passed, Ham was all over me. She’d nest in my hair, take naps for hours at a time in my shirt, and whenever the other kids tried to play with her, she’d immediately scurry into my shirt sleeve.
Next was Coco, the little dog my mother got for me and my sister once we were more financially stable. The first day we met him, I remember my mother placed him in my sister’s lap for her to hold. My sister stroked him gently and was very careful with him, but the moment that dog laid eyes on me, it was game over for her. The pup instantly hopped up and stumbled over to me, curling up in my lap with his little body trembling. To my young self’s shock, he fell asleep, nice and cozy in my lap, completely trusting of me. That had never happened to me before, but I loved it. It became one of my favorite memories.
Another fond memory I have is of when I visited a zoo, and a bright red macaw flew out of his tree to the edge of his enclosure to greet me. My other family members were trying to catch his attention and get a good picture of him, but that bird had his bright hazel eyes fixated on me. It almost felt like he was trying to communicate with me in a way. Now, I highly doubt the macaw wanted anything to do with me and probably just wanted me to let him out of his cramped little cage, but it was still a breathtaking moment. If you’ve ever been that close to such a beautiful bird, you’d know what I was talking about.
But perhaps my most surreal “Animal Whisperer” moment was with a rottweiler that we’ll call Stella.
Stella was my childhood friend’s dog. Well, she still is my childhood friend’s dog. She’s probably the oldest dog I’ve met in my life, lol.
Stella was a monster of a dog. I don’t know why she turned out to be so aggressive, but long story short, she was dangerous. My friend used to show me the bite marks and tell me stories of how she’d nearly maul any dogs that got too close to her. They kept her chained up in the back yard in a fenced-in pen just in case. Every time we passed by her pen, she went into a barking and snarling rage.
I was absolutely terrified of this dog. I didn’t want to be anywhere near her. Just hearing her bark at anything that moved sent chills down my spine. Looking back, I think she’s the only dog I’ve really truly been scared of. In my eyes, she was the devil personified, just waiting for the right moment to break out of her enclosure and rip me to shreds.
Well, one night I was having a sleepover at my friend’s house. My friend and her family had already passed out hours before me (I used to be able to stay up til at least 5 AM as a child) and I was alone on the couch playing video games. I don’t know what prompted it, but at one point I got up from the couch to get a snack.
I went outside with a bag of animal crackers and wandered around the backyard, admiring the cool summer air and gazing up at the bright night sky.
Then I heard an earth-shattering growl.
My first instinct was to run back inside and go back to playing my game. After all, that dog was like a demon in my eyes. There was always the possibility that she was strong enough to break out of her pen, and I wasn’t willing to wait around to see what would happen to me.
But curiosity got to me before the fear could.
Like the stupid kid I was, I took a daring step forward, approaching her slowly. I could still hear her snarling on the other side of the pen, so I decided to speak to her in a friendly tone. The moment I spoke, she erupted into an explosion of barks. The sudden loud noise spooked me and made my body shake like a maraca, but I was determined to get closer to her. I continued to talk to her gently, keeping my tone sweet and my pitch high.
At last, I’d made it to her pen. I didn’t dare look inside with her screeching like a maniac, so instead I tossed her an animal cracker to see what would happen.
The barking went dead silent. Next thing I know, all I hear is sniffing and a lot of crunching as she got her first taste of animal cracker.
I offered her another. Then another. She promptly went to work mowing down on my peace offering. After giving her a good portion of my snack, I peeked over the fence into her pen to meet her gaze.
She blinked up at me curiously, the light of the stars shining in her beady eyes. She was a lot prettier than I was expecting, nothing like the savage, evil dog I had in mind. She was small and slender, her coat sleek and shiny like that of a river otter’s. I still find it hard to believe to this day that she’d ever attack anyone.
She came up to the edge of her pen to give me a good sniff, never taking her eyes off me. She didn’t seem to be wary of me, nor did she look aggressive. In fact, she actually looked quite calm and curious.
Seeing her go against my expectations calmed me down tremendously. So much so that I ended up stupidly sticking my hand into her pen just to see what would happen.
I’ve done a lot of stupid things as a kid, I’ll admit it. I wasn’t ever the brightest crayon in the box, and there are many moments where I look back and think, “Yeah, mom dropped me alright.”. The fact that I was out there by myself in the first place was pretty dumb in itself. But I guess doing stupid shit is how kids learn.
But nonetheless, I’m relieved that I still have two hands, and even more relieved that she actually let me stroke her head. I remember thinking that she looked a bit uncomfortable, but she didn’t bite me despite the fact that we were strangers to each other.
After that night, I never touched Stella ever again. I didn’t dare push my luck any further. But I’ll never forget that strange, hard to believe moment. This dog who was known for being ruthlessly aggressive actually gave me a chance. Me. A stranger no less.
Like I mentioned earlier, Stella’s still alive. And she’s still in her pen. I feel terrible for the old girl. If she had been given the love and the time, I have no doubt in my mind that she could become a sweet dog. But sadly, she remains trapped in that little pen all by herself, barking at any noise her ears catch.
Anyways, from that night on, I started to get used to my strange connection with animals. As you can imagine, I got filthy rich off of pet sitting gigs as a teenager, and I was one of the more helpful volunteers at the animal shelter. I’ve never been bitten or scratched (With the exception of during playtime), even the shyest of animals warm up to me within minutes, and anyone that knows me knows they better hide their animals around me unless they feel like peeling them off my leg, lol.
I don’t know why animals seem to bond with me so easily. Maybe it’s my smell? I mean, I prefer the natural look, so I don’t wear a whole lot of make-up, perfume, etc. For a while I thought maybe it was my body temperature because I tend to be on the warmer side. Maybe it’s the way I talk, or something about my face. I can’t really explain it, but all I know is that when it comes to animals and me, we seem to draw each others’ attention like magnets. Maybe that’s why I find it so easy to fall for them.
Hey y’all! Thanks for reading another one of my blogs! My little ending note this time is short for a reason. Stay tuned for a little surprise in the not-so-distant future
I’d just reached that age where it was time to leave the nest.
At the time, I’d just started community college and was living with a roommate in a cozy little apartment complex. She was a nice girl, though we never interacted much on a personal level, and I mostly kept to myself. Adjusting to the new atmosphere was pretty surreal at first and I got a bit homesick like most kids do when they move out of the nest, but after a month or so, my days started to blur together into a set schedule. Wake up, get ready for the day, school, work, review notes, watch tv if there was some free-time, and sleep for as many hours as I was able to get. It was the start of many similar days. Every now and then something interesting or new happened, but I was pretty focused on completing my daily routine each day, meticulously meeting each goal right on the dot like an ant working itself dead.
But one day I came back from work to find a welcome surprise. One that would transform my life entirely.
I remember walking into the apartment as I’d done thousands of times before that night, and slinging my bag down on the floor. A few steps into the doorway was all it took for me to realize that something was different.
My roommate was sitting on the couch, grinning at me with a bright white smile. Before I could ask her why she was looking at me so weird, I saw him.
A little milk chocolate colored fuzzball sat at her feet, staring at me with wide, “deer in the headlights” eyes. I was left speechless by the sight. I kid you not, he had to have been the cutest puppy I’ve seen in my entire life. My heart nearly exploded in my chest, and I could already feel myself getting teary eyed.
I rushed over on impulse, my smile nearly falling off my face as I cupped his baby-soft face gently between my trembling hands. He was as soft as a dove’s feather, and he reeked of new puppy scent. He stared up at me with these huge, sparkling orbs, scanning every inch of my face as I did the same. No words are strong enough to describe just how precious that moment was for me.
Finally, I managed to grasp onto the words, “Is he ours?”
My roommate nodded down at me in delight. “Yeah, I got him from a relative that’s a breeder. His name’s Rio. He’s the cutest puppy ever, right?” She giggled, patting his head softly. Rio was strangely calm considering all the attention he was receiving. Nowadays, he would’ve gone crazy from all the love he was getting, lol.
Rio slept with my roommate that night. It was one of the few nights he ever did.
The next morning, I woke up at the ass crack of dawn, exhausted and hungry. My roommate had already left, but before she’d gone, she’d left a text asking me to take care of Rio before I left for school. Of course, I obliged, setting food in his bowl and taking him outside to try and relieve himself (though he was more fond of the carpet than the grass, and he didn’t quite understand the concept of a food bowl).
Afterwards, I finished my own breakfast, and started to wash my dish. As I waited for the water to warm up, Rio came waddling up to me, his stub of a tail wagging rapidly. I glanced down at him to see he was smiling. It was a huge, enthusiastic smile, one that I hadn’t seen on a dog in a long, long time. My heart did a flip in my chest as he looked up at me with those sweet, doe-like eyes.
Have you ever had that moment where you meet someone for the first time, and you just know that they’re going to change your life? Maybe there’s a strange light that shines down on them, or your vision just closes in on them. Whatever it is, the universe seems to be telling you, “Yeah, you two are crossing paths”. I’m not much of a hippie nor am I religious, but I believe there are people in our lives that we’re sort of meant to meet, if that makes sense. Like soulmates. And the moment you meet them, something just kind of clicks.
I’ve experienced that surreal moment three times now: Once with a boy, once with a girl, and the third time was with Rio.
The moment he looked up at me with his eyes twinkling like stars, I knew I’d do whatever it took to give him the love he deserved. I’d never let anyone or anything hurt him.
From that point on, he was my boy. He followed me wherever I went, I was the one who ended up taking care of him for most of the time, and he began to sleep in my room with me every night. Every now and then, I even had to pay for his food when my roommate would forget to get it. I didn’t really mind the sudden responsibility. I’d grown up with animals my entire life, so I already knew exactly what to do.
Some of my fondest memories in life are of just bonding with Rio during his puppy years. I would carry him up and down the stairways (even after he was waaaaay too big for my arms, lol), I tought him how to play tug-o-war with his rope toy, introduced him to other dogs, and at night, he would immediately hop up onto my mattress and snuggle up to me as close as possible.
Those precious, priceless moments are kept well-preserved within my mind, waiting to be revisited on days where I’m feeling nostalgic.
Some things haven’t changed. Rio still grins up at me with those twinkling eyes (Especially when I’ve got a big bag of pretzels in my lap), he still expects to be carried and coddled wherever he goes, but above all, he still makes my heart do backflips in my chest, though the love I feel for him now has evolved into something very different. He’s far from being a baby anymore. Still as cute as button, but he’s grown into his feet. It’s weird to think that I practically raised him, especially because I don’t really view him as a son or a pet. If anything, these days it feels like he’s the one looking after me, lol.
It’s a beautiful feeling when an animal chooses you over everyone else they could have chosen. He could have been my roomate’s pup. He could have ignored me entirely or just used me as a means for food. He didn’t have to be so affectionate towards me. He didn’t have to run to my side when he was frightened or snarl at anything that threatened me. He didn’t have to try and connect with me. He didn’t have to be so sweet. But he was. And he still is. It’s a surreal feeling.
I often wonder what he sees in me, what he thinks of me. Sure, I feed him, I care for him, I love him, and all that, but I’ve seen plenty of dogs that want nothing to do with their owners. Rio is almost possessive over me, and as a puppy, he followed me around like a clueless duckling. Did he like the way I looked or smelled? Did he sense something about me? Was he attracted to the pitch of my voice, or was it purely because I was the one caring for him?
My roommate always gave him attention as well, but they never seemed to bond like he did with me, and she knew it. It was part of why she gave him to me in the end.
Whatever his reasons, I’m happy that he seems to care about me as much as I care about him. Thanks to him, my daily routine has never been more interesting.
Yay, wholesome post! Haha. Unfortunately, there’s more to the story of how Rio came to stay with me, and the second half isn’t as sweet or nice to remember as the first, so I’m gonna save it for another time. Just wanted to give a head’s up about the incoming story.
Anywho, it’s time for me to enjoy the rest of my lazy Sunday. Huge thank you to those who continue to read my posts. It means more to me than I can say.
Hope y’all are creating warm memories wherever you are in the world.
(Fair warning: If you’re looking for a more light-hearted post, you might wanna wait til next time, lol)
As a professional daydreamer, I frequently imagine and reimagine scenarios of what would happen if I told my family about my orientation.
Don’t get me wrong, I have no intention of ever “coming out”. I’d never want to do that to my friends, family, or my lover. Besides, I live a perfectly normal and blissful life without anyone knowing anything, so I don’t really see why that needs to change.
But I like to play out the scenario in my head, predicting how each of my family members would react. Even though it’s not a very positive one, I can’t help but play out the story, rewinding some bits as if it were an addicting soap opera. Sometimes I think I might actually be a masochist, lol.
If I did tell them the truth:
My mother would take it the hardest out of everyone. She’d be in denial and say “It’s probably not what you think it is. You probably have other issues that you need to deal with”. She’d try and find a way to fix me, pay for the best therapist she could find just to get me the help I need. But she’d quickly find out that there’s no fixing something that isn’t really broken. Eventually, she’d realize that I’ve always been like this. She’d connect the dots and then blame herself, asking where she went wrong and what she did to deserve it. After the realization set in, she’d pull herself together and report me to the police. She’d do everything in her power to get me arrested.
Some of you reading this are probably thinking, “What the actual fuck?”.
Good old motherly love right there, lol. I know my mama. She’s told me before that if I ever did something illegal or stupid, she wouldn’t hesitate to get me arrested, and I believe her. It’s her way of showing that she cares and that she won’t let me do anything detrimental to myself or others. In her eyes, I would not only be a danger to myself, but to the animals around me. Getting me arrested would teach me a lesson and protect the animals I’d “hurt”. That’s her logic, anyways.
My step-father would cut ties. It would destroy him and he’d beat himself up for it, but he’d never be able to look at me again without getting sick or angry if he didn’t. He wouldn’t be able to deal with the shock and would end up drinking himself away.
My biological father might just accept me after a while, but he’d be visibly uncomfortable around me. Our relationship would become more strained than it ever was before.
My sister is a lot more unpredictable than the rest of my family, but I know she’d blackmail me at some point and make me regret saying anything about it.
All of my grandparents would cut ties. My grandmother on my mom’s side may still talk to and support me, but there’s always that chance that she’d draw the line. Aunts, uncles, and cousins? Kiss them goodbye. Well, except my uncle on my mother’s side. That man’s moral compass has been demolished for a long time, lol.
My friends? One might be accepting of it. I mean, he’s pretty much admitted to wanting to bone (pun intended) the family dog as a kid, so he may just get me. As for the others? Adios amigos.
I imagine I’d lose my job, I’d be kicked out of my university, rumors would spread, etc. I don’t think it’d make it into the news as I’m not really a prominent figure, but who knows. My career would be over before it even started. At some point, I’d run into some financial problems and have trouble supporting Rio and myself.
At some point, one of my family members (most likely my mother) would try and get custody of Rio. If she didn’t manage to get him taken away from me, someone would probably kidnap or kill him. If that didn’t happen, the financial issues would force me to give him up for his own health. I’d be stuck worrying about him for the rest of my life.
I imagine I’d go insane from it all, and Rio’s absence would be the last straw. I’d go on living of course just to see where the rest of my life would take me, but I imagine I’d have to find some kind of escape to cope. Alcohol, drugs, anything to make me forget the Hell I’d put myself in.
In a perfect world, I’d tell my friends and family, they’d shrug their shoulders and then go on with their lives. Some people live in that kind of world, and I’m amazed by it. It’s incredible to know that there are people out there who can still love and accept people like me.
But I don’t live in that kind of world. I live in a world where my parents agree that zoophiles should get the death sentence, lol.
My friends and family love and value me. That’s why I predict they’d feel they had no other choice but to leave me for my own good. I’d be a monster in their eyes. An unstable freak. Wrong in the head. I can’t say I really blame them. If I thought my friend or relative was a sexual deviant hurting innocent animals, I wouldn’t really know how to face them either. I’ve stopped taking it personally. I mean, it still hurts and I know that I’d never do anything to hurt my boy, but I get it.
I love my friends and family. I love Rio. I love myself. So that’s why I’d never put any of them through that.
It’s nice to imagine the “What if”s and “Maybe”s and all the possible happy endings, but I already know that, realistically, the odds won’t be in my favor, and I’m okay with that. Some zoos are given a good hand, others aren’t. I’m lucky enough to be able to live a peaceful life with my lover all to myself without anyone bugging me about it. Like I mentioned in an earlier post, I’ve got unawareness and comedy on my side. I have nothing to hide from my friends and family, with or without them knowing the truth. Sounds like a good hand to me.
Hey y’all! Sorry this one wasn’t as fun, lol. Next post is gonna be a lot lighter, but I had to write about this at some point. I was debating whether or not I should write about this now, but eh, what the heck? It’s my blog, so I can do whatever I want with it, lol.
Anywho, just an after note : this isn’t really meant to discourage anyone from “Coming out”. You can honestly do whatever you please. Your life is your own storybook, and you write the pages, though I would recommend you be extremely cautious. I just felt the need to vent my thoughts. That’s what this blog is for after all; I’m just here to spill my POV all over the place.
Til next time. Stay safe, y’all