A recurring event in my life flashed through my head while fixing lunch, so I thought I might fixate on it some…
I have often been accused of being high-maintenance. An accusation I refute each and every time…
I gots me some weird-ass traits and preferences, sure…
I like deep, rich colors in my space, not bright.
(because I am so easily distracted.)
Whenever I make a salad, I choose color coded ingredients.
(orange peppers with carrots, yellow with yellow tomatoes,
red cabbage with raddichio, and so on… yeah, really.)
I like to find the same serving utensil
in the same place every time I reach for it.
(which I never get to experience.)
I am selective with which colors I wear.
I want fresh lemon and limes in my house at all times,
just in case I need them.
I don’t own a single plastic cup. Glass only.
I prefer fresh-baked to store-bought. Anything.
I only want “manly” smelling soaps and candles in my home.
(Sandalwood, sage, musk, so on…)
I prefer to arrange my own flowers.
I am meticulous when polishing my own boots.
I would rather poke a hole in a cigar than cut the end off.
I enjoy a dick grinding in my ass crack more
than I like getting fucked.
If you wanna get me off, do the same thing to both nipples…
I think tiny little potatoes rock!
Always butter, never margarine.
I NEED my belt to be the same color leather as my boots.
If it has belt loops, I NEED to wear a belt.
I like the kitchen immaculate, but the frig COVERED
in gay magnets and poetry and photos and crap.
I think of everything else in the room as I position something new.
Unless it is mercury glass and every fucking color,
I want no more than three colors on a Christmas tree.
I don’t sleep as well with someone else as I do by myself. Almost ever.
The first thing I do – after getting into a hotel bed –
is untuck the foot of the sheets.
I always sleep with the covers tucked under my feet.
I have a specific, exact answer to any question
as soon as it is asked.
All this and more…
and I still hold to the actuality that I am NOT high-maintenance.
I have never demanded any of this from anyone…
This is how I like things to be, how I KNOW I like things to be.
In a restaurant, I order nothing on the side.
I want to experience the food how the chef wants to prepare it.
The only choice I need is done-ness (the bloodier the better).
However you want to fix something, I would like to experience it.
My friends cannot seem to differentiate
between my tastes and my demands.
I don’t ask any of the things of others. I do them myself this way.
I have never sent back a drink for being too weak.
I never expect the consensus to change for my opinion.
Sadly, as a result, I rarely feel I get what I want unless alone.
I want to experience how other people make their choices.
To see how conscious they are about them.
I don’t even expect anyone else to GET me.
I am always surprised if it happens. It rarely does.
I know how weird I am. I know what a freak I am.
That is why it is so easy for me to wander around midtown midwest USA with a nose ring. I know more likely than not, they will find my a freak, so I can make it easier for them.
Why is it so easy for people to confuse high-maintenance
with knowing what you like?
I happen to think I am easy-going and very low-maintenance.
I would love for someone else to stand strong with his opinions,
but – whoever it is – he is always so afraid of mine that he cowers.
One day I will have the opportunity to be surrounded
by people that GET me. We will embrace each others weirdness
and the world will tremble with our power.
I am not high-maintenance. Bitches!
gryphon's hole 