Diary of a Sex-Starved Pseudo-Mennonite, Part 49

Like a meteor shower, word nuggets arc across the dark expanse of my brain: 

"Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between a wayward impulse and inspired action."

"Sure he's hot AF and has a great job and adorable little kids, but I think he might be an asshole. And I already have an asshole. In my butt."

"God gave me a really great person to take care of me. Me."

The universe keeps rolling gay, bi, and people resistant to sexual orientation labels toward me like a glorious pink marbled bowling ball aimed at my ankles. The 2 things keeping me upright are the last pins needed for a spare. I think "Oh SPARE me, Divine Ruler. I'm tired. My empathy needs a spa day."

I have incest on both sides. The first person who reached out to me on Ancestry was on my mother's side. A child given away by my maternal grandfather's niece. A niece he apparently did not know. The niece's war dalliance resulted in a human being who became a heroic marine and cop and detective. Who found me. This niece's father's last name was Hazard. I shit you not. My maternal grandfather's eldest sister, who married the Hazard, was 20 years older than Grandpa. His mom was 49 when she had my grandpa. His father 51. I am almost 48. The fertility specialist, like so many scientists, was unmoved by this anecdotal evidence of my potential to get a bun in, and then after 9 months, out, of my oven. Now I wonder if the doctor failed to examine me because he was afraid of being wrong. What the scientists fail to recognize is that most people build their entire identity on anecdotal fucking evidence.

Gertrude, my grandfather's apparently estranged big sister, died at 29. A few months after her 3rd child was born. 3 little kids, left with the Hazard. The eldest was a lifer embittered civil servant who gave her child away and never married. The child lingered in an orphanage until age 4. The middle son survived the war to go to college and die in his 20s in a car accident I am certain was caused by drink, because I know my people. The youngest girl died at 21 of heart failure. Well my God--wouldn't you?

With light prodding, my long lost cousin shared that Hazard paid farm hands with the eldest girl's body and used the youngest girl as his wife. For years, the boy was sent to an orphanage because he cost too much. He was brought back home when he was old enough to work.

 

There is a rumor I like to believe which is unsubstantiated by DNA that my grandfather's biological father was actually the much younger and presumably more potent Hazard. Hence the mother-daughter estrangement. The alleged cuckold, my great grandfather, according to the paper died in the woods suffering from an out of control diabetic condition. But Grandpa said his dad stumbled drunk out of a bar into a snow bank and froze to death. This happened when Grandpa was 10 or less. Maybe 8. This shining example is why my grandfather disbelieved in his own alcoholism. It's all relative.

My family does not read my blog. I can't imagine why.

Until Next Time, Sweeties!

Ness Sweet Ness