Tag Archives: siblings

The Woman In His Life

I had a good talk with my beloved brother yesterday.

I’ve mentioned him on occasion, but because of my early onset of Alheimer’s that I seem to be suffering from this week, I do not recall exactly what I have written about him.

My brother is the product of my flaky mother and her first asshole husband. (Which technically makes my brother only my half-brother, but we shall not split hairs- mainly because the ones on my head are already split.) Let us just say that because of the tender age my mother was when she gave birth to my sibling, he did not receive the care he perhaps may have gotten if she had been 30 and fully matured. He was 12 when I was born, and excited to have a beautiful baby sister who was me.

I was far too young to remember much about the time he lived with us before my dad kicked him out for smoking pot, but I remember fondly the brotherly love he bestowed upon me- namely, flicking the end of my nose, (that hurt like a bitch!) and swatting my ass with a flyswatter after I repeatedly spit on his leather jacket, which I did only to show off to his friends. I did not get know truly know him until I was 18 and out of the house, because my parents treated him as a pariah, and were afraid he would be a bad influence on me. (As if I wasn’t a bad enough influence on myself.)

My Brother had a nervous breakdown at his last job, around the time I got to know him, and was diagnosed with depression and some other mental issues I fail to recall at this time. I remember the first time I went to visit him after not knowing him for most of my life, and found that he was not a normal person- mainly because he was much kinder, and more sensitive and loving than the normal people who go around only caring about themselves every day. We fast became friends, despite being complete opposites- he was raised with no structure while I was raise in an invisible churchy prison; he has no job while I have for the most part worked overtime my entire working life; I have a faith I believe firmly in, while he hasn’t an idea what to believe.

Because we did not exactly grow up as brother and sister conventionally do, we have many conversations that I’m not sure normal siblings have. We talk of love, and sex, and dreams. He told me of the one woman he truly loved, a 350 lb. black woman who he had worked with and gone to movies with who had been 15 years his senior. I told him of my deep desire to have children, and of how we should start a band, because he plays drums and I piano, and we both adore music.

When I was with my ex-husband, he could not understand why I visited my brother so often. “He doesn’t have a job” and “He lives off of disability” were his repeated statements. I tried to explain to him that a job (or lack thereof) does not make a person who they are, unless they intend it to be that way. While I do not necessarily carry a deep devotion to family, I see my brother as my brother, whether he has a job or smokes alotta weed or is depressed more than the average person.

About 9 months ago, my brother told me he met a girl, and I was ecstatic for him. It did not take me long, however, to realize from what he told me that this bitch was a crazy useless ‘ho, who perhaps unintentionally was preying on my brother’s sensitivity. I could not hide my dislike for her when he introduced her to me- after I left she was quick to ask my brother if I hated her.

I’ve not had a lot of time to go visit my brother in the last months, but we’ve talked on the phone enough for me to know he’s had a tough time letting go of this insane chic, but when I talked to him yesterday, he calmly told me he has come to a conclusion: He is convinced that I am the woman in his life.

His statement is not to be thought of in disgusting incestual terms, for he means it not in that way at all. All he meant is that I am the one woman who has always been there for  him, and never let him down, and never expected anything from him except for him to be himself. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that he has been that to me as well. He always is happy to see me, and expects naught from me except my sisterly love.

Incidentally, I’ve been together with my Rockstar for 3 years, and he has yet to meet my brother, “the man in my life.” Don’t ask me why, because I know not the reason.

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Filed under Family, Friendship, Humor, Life, Love, Uncategorized

Bitch? Please.

I have a brother.

I don’t know if you’ve been paying enough attention to know that.

Despite having the same mother, we were raised on the complete opposite ends of the parenting spectrum. Where I was raised in a strict and suffocating household, my brother was oft times ignored and then left to his own devices. Upon my arrival into this world, my brother was then treated as a irritating leftover from a previous life, and I was withheld from his aquaintance in the hopes that his juvenile delinquency wouldn’t rub off on me.

Many years later, after he was hospitalized for having a mental breakdown, my shy self felt it necessary to get to know the brother I remembered from my youth. We soon became fast friends, and I realized that we are truly related, as we both inherited the one good trait our mother possesses- empathy. We both of us at times worry about other people’s feelings more than our own, which sometimese results in our own misery.

Being the sister of a brother I did not know deeply from youth, the subjects of our conversations may not necessarily be the norm between siblings. This may be the reason I ended up knowing about my brother’s unbelievable decade-long dry spell.

My brother’s non-self-imposed celibacy had throughout the years been the butt of jokes between us, yet I was greatly relieved for him when he called a few months ago and revealed that he had once again lost his virginity. He rambled on about his newfound sex partner, and then proceeded to shock me with the information that he was, in fact, not in a relationship, but had gained a fuck buddy.

Let me be clear- I condone all forms of sex (that do not include animals), and so a fuck buddy relationship is not what is shocking. The fact that it is my brother, who has the somewhat-womanly mentality that sex actually means something, who is having a fuck buddy is what’s shocking. Upon receiving more information, I found that his “buddy” is in love with her baby daddy, and from the sounds of it, likes to use my brother to buy her alcohol and to babysit her kid. My brother assured me that he was fine with the situation, but after receiving many phone calls from a deeply sensitive brother who is upset because of his feelings for a certain someone, I find myself to be unbelieving about his assurances.

I was willing to give his “buddy” the benefit of the doubt in the beginning- perhaps she was just lonely; perhaps she realizes my brother is a good guy and wants more to do with him; perhaps she will someday forget about her baby daddy and live happily ever after with my brother. Perhaps.

I went to visit my brother this last week, and after spending the day with him and hearing all about how terribly this woman makes him feel, I was intent on never meeting her. From what he told me, she needs a shrink and a beating. I found that I am more than willing to be the one to administer said beating. Imagine my irritation when the bitch calls my brother when I’m visiting, and insists on coming over to meet “the wonderful sister he talks so much about.” I could not contain my inner groan when my brother informed me his bitch was on her way over.

I rolled my eyes and told the truth. “Look. I wanted to meet her because you like her for whatever fucking reason. Sadly, after hearing you say ONLY negative things about her all the day, I must tell you that I no longer have that desire, and so I must depart before this devil woman arrives.” My brother, while maybe disappointed, understood where I was coming from, and so walked me out to my yellow truck. Sadly, I was unable to make a clean getaway, and the bitch wandered out of her building and sauntered over to meet me.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you! Oh! You’re so pretty! I can’t believe how pretty you are!” She gushed and continued. “Your brother’s a good man. He’s a really good man and my son loves him.” I agreed whole-heartedly that indeed my brother is a good man, yet in my head I was wondering why on earth any woman would introduce her child to a fuck buddy. Like kids don’t have enough going on to confuse them. I civilly accepted her hug, and automatically returned it (because I cannot NOT give a hug) and then gracefully waved a non-friendly goodbye.

A few hours later, my brother called to confirm that I returned home safely, and corroborated that I am not the stellar actress that I thought I was. He said to me, “Yeah, as soon as you left, she asked, ‘She hates me, doesn’t she?'”

For the record, my histrionic personality makes it impossoble for me to completely hate her, because she said I was pretty. But the healthy side of me does indeed loath her.


Filed under Beauty, Family, Humor, Life, Uncategorized