The Adventures of Zofie and Mr. Fluffy: Dead-Beat Dad

Mr. Fluffy, I think it’s time I told you the truth about your father. She– Yes, your sweet mother Zofie loves women. She– Her name was Natalia. Whew… this is gonna be hard already. You want some nip? No? Well, I’ll have some nip. Long Island Iced Nip.

So you’re maybe might be done with listening to me after last night… or maybe might not. You’re sleeping so it doesn’t matter. I’m still gonna tell you about her because she’s your father and I need to let her go. Cheers.

We met… three or four years ago. You’re not gonna judge me, are you? Wait, you can’t make it onto the chair sometimes. I was a fiend on a forum for photographers. Or “photographers”. It was open to everyone and not everyone is talented. One time, I found a horrible— Right. Your father. I posted a pic on the forum, of… a make-believe murder scene. Your mother’s fucked-up, Mr. Fluffy. Natalia found me that day. I thanked her for her critique… probably over-thanked. The slightest praise to a starving artist sounds like an auditorium loving you. Natalia didn’t mind and we became friends soon after. Exchanging notes in the forum then moving onto e-mails. Never phone calls because international charges are a bee-yah-itch.

That’s right, Mr. Fluffy, you’re a mixed kitty. A peace-offering to the world. Your mother is American and your father hails from Ireland. A Russian in Ireland. She had the cutest accent… too soon. Now, I should say that I didn’t want to fall in love with Natalia. Who wants to fall in love in that situation? There was an ocean between us and six time zones. There was the fact that we were both women. There was no denying that I was slowly becoming addicted to her words.

I didn’t know it was love. I thought it was just a brewing excitement from knowing someone so interesting. Someone who thought I was so interesting. I can’t tell you how great it feels for someone to genuinely think that you’re special. Especially when you go through most of your life in absence of any sort of affection from someone not related to you. It’s probably like when I scratch your kick spot.

I fucking hate when people use broad adjectives to describe someone they love, so I’m not gonna do that to you. I’m not gonna… let my glass stay empty. Be right back.

Comfy? Goody. I didn’t know what she looked like until a while after we started dating, so I’ll leave that part out until then. I guess we had a real love. She– FUCK! I’m sorry, I’ll try to keep it together. She… heh, she was like her son is now when I first knew her. A frightened cat, I mean. She was timid about a lot of things. I guess my American braggadocio helped her open up which made her–

FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK! Why is this so hard?! I just…

Sorry. She was timid about a lot of things. People, the ones who chose to speak to me, feel pretty quickly that they can tell me anything. That backfired immensely with Robin. This was after your father, Mr. Fluffy. She was open to women and I met her online and within days, I was her bff. And I was too close to be her gf. We women can be really weird sometimes.

Natalia, Natalia. Ok. Timid. Our e-mails revolved around what we did that day and other randomness. She used to tell tales, like how people thought she was a classical music freak because that’s how she looked. She looked the part, y’know? My first peek into her… many-leveled basement showed me that she loved that really angry guitar music about eating daemons and things like that. She was also an atheist who loved religious iconography. The rants we used to have about that… I should’ve accepted that about her.

A HUGE problem she used to have ’til me was about her body. I know this is jumping the gun, Mr. Fluffy, but your father had a fucking awesome body. She was a petite, womanly Russian lady who some fucking asshole is probably–

It was two months after we met that I noticed I was falling for her… and I was scared. I was fucking scared. We didn’t live any sort of feasibly near each other, I’m gay, she might not be, and I’ve been comically unlucky in love. I don’t wanna bore you, but have you ever fell in love with a girl, then have her tell you she doesn’t want a relationship, then watch her and your best friend suddenly become cuddle-buddies, then have your best friend thank you for setting her up with your failure?

One day, it got too much and I had to tell Natalia how I felt. The Ides of March were– Heh. We started dating on the Ides of March. Before that, we started writing actual letters to each other. We both love getting them in the mail. She loved my handwriting. Heh, not at first. She thought it was too neat and said that it hurt her eyes. She got used to it and told me that when we eventually meet, she was gonna have me write a bunch of things and stare at my hand. Your father was silly, being self-conscious about her scribbling. I thought it looked ok, but she thought it was too narrow. She used to sign her name with a snail because “they’re such charming creatures”. Ditto elephants. Heh, you could’ve been an elephant, Mr. Fluffy.

She loved everything India.

March 15th came… which didn’t make sense to her. She preferred 15th March. That day came and I put my feelings in the all-or-nothing box, then e-mailed it to her. I sent it much earlier than usual because I wanted to hear from her as soon as possible. Longest few hours of my fucking life, Mr. Fluffy. Cheers.

Then I got a reply. A very confused reply. But I wasn’t gonna let her go, goddamnit. I was so fucking tired of losing that– I can’t think of another word for it thanks to my nip, but I felt that she was my soulmate. We complimented each other so well. Everything I wasn’t, she was. And she was smart. And she loved the same goofy music and films I did. And she had the cutest accent… I heard it by that point. And she was kinky. Fuck me, Mr. Fluffy, she was kinky. You probably don’t wanna hear this about your father… but you don’t speak English. She was such a sub, and got horny at the drop of a hat. She used to tell me that sometimes she cried because she was so turned on sometimes. And she never had an orgasm. Poor thing. Your purrs can attest, I’ve got some fucking magical fingers. I would’ve loved to have dipped them in her Irish borsch. AND she loved tight skirts with thigh-highs and garter belts!

What clued me into her maybe being into me was that she used to tell me about how women turned her on. Then I sent her an e-mail, got a confused reply, and I fucking poured my heart out. More than I ever had to anyone. She wanted to fuck in every room of our eventual new house. I poured out my heart and told her how much I admired her brain and reminded her of how well we fit and… and… and all those other things hopeless romantics say when they have nothing to lose.

And she said “yes”.

Things weren’t ever easy with your father, and I mean that in the best way. With whatever involved her, I had to work at it. It’s one of the things I loved about knowing her. She always pushed me. Heh, and this is probably something that any other artist might slap me for but she wasn’t a big fan of everything I created. I loved being grounded like that. No matter how well I thought I did, no matter how many people loved what I did, she was always there to say “Um..not really, no.” And I never, ever got angry at her about that.

She used to move her hands a lot when she got excited. And sometimes erupted into giggle fits.

I did get angry, though. I loved her but I wasn’t blindly in love. I couldn’t glaze over something wrong and, thankfully, neither could she. Besides, it wasn’t ever anything serious. Well… there were moments once in a while… lots at the beginning but they dwindled to nothing as time went on. I’d blame it on PMS, but my periods were always pretty light. Kinda like having bad gas. General Cramps wasn’t so kind to her, though. It always hit her hard and she was a mad Russian-Irish for a few days. My mad Russian-Irish. I was afraid of… of… fucking say it, Zofie. I was afraid of losing her. She was the first woman I felt so strongly for and I had her and I’ve lost out to so many people so many times that… I was paranoid. But you can’t blame me. But it wasn’t right. Neither was looking around for someone else sometimes. But I’ve been thrown away so many times that I couldn’t help but make a plan-fucking-b. I got over it, though, because she loved me so unconditionally.

Two years. Two of the best fucking years of my life. We used to have video chat dates… talking to each other for hours and hours. We talked about… Her dream was to get married and I took that away from her. I beat into her head that marriage was outdated and she gave up something that meant a lot to her. There was a pic she sent me. A bunch of pics she found when she was a little girl. One of them was of her as a little girl in a beautiful bell… a beautiful bell dress. She had a tiara, a sparkly scepter, and an adorable smile. She wanted to look like that for her wedding. A princess. And I took that from her. She looked so happy in that pic, Mr. Fluffy, and I fucking ruined her happy moment because I was too stuck on myself.

I wasn’t always an asshole to your father. All this happened at the beginning. I was the best person I could’ve been to her most of the time, then all of the time. One of her favorite… She had a favorite TV show but she never saw every episode. I found the complete series on DVD, and you would’ve been proud of your sneaky mother. I ordered it for Natalia. I was probably happier than she was when she got it. I loved making her happy however I could. She loved giving gifts more than receiving, though. Whenever she was on vacation with her family, she always made sure to get people things. She, heh, she always bought something for me last because she over-thought it until the last second. The fact that she was thinking about me was enough.

Two years… then she had to move in with her aunt in Holland. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fuck. While we were togeth– FUCK!!

…while we were together, I made Natalia more comfortable with herself. She was always so timid at the beginning. She couldn’t look at herself and didn’t think she was attractive. She was such a gorgeous woman. My favorite pic of her– FUCK!! Fuck you, fuck y…

My favorite pic of her was one her father took of her one trip. It was a little out-of-focus but that didn’t matter. He caught her by surprise and she was looking over her shoulder… her right shoulder… she was looking over her right shoulder and had the warmest smile. I’d have done anything, ANYTHING to be smiled at like that. She told me that she’d always have one for me.

She rarely went out when she was in Ireland. Too insecure. Too into me. But I got her to open up. I got her to be comfortable with herself. I made it so that Natalia could go wherever the fuck she wanted when she moved because the world didn’t fucking scare her anymore. I made her a better fucking human being and she LOVED it. She loved it and those guys in the clubs loved it and those guys on the street loved it and she told me not to bother being with her because– FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING WHORE! I LOVED YOU! I LOVED YOU! I WOULD’VE DONE ANYTHING FOR YOU! I WAS GONNA UPROOT MY WHOLE GODDAMN FUCKING LIFE TO FUCKING BE WITH YOU! AND YOU THREW ME AWAY LIKE SHIT WHEN YOU DIDN’T FUCKING NEED ME ANYMORE! FUCK YOU!!

You made me… you made me promise to… you were afraid that I’d leave you when you got older. When the wrinkles and the gray started to take you. You made me promise to never leave you, Natalia. But you left me for hedonism. And all of Holland is taking advantage of your blooming. It’s been over a year and I have to, at last, break my promise. I should’ve done it the day you left, but I’m a fool. I’ve tormented myself and scared my cat enough. I’ve been neurotic about life and women because of you too long. You probably don’t think about me anymore. One cloud on a stormy day. We have lives to live without each other now. I see that. I know that. I have to let you go. With these words, I have to let you go. With these words, I have to let you go. Whew… ok. Ok. Ok. Alright.

Pakah and slán abhaile, Natalia.

Hello, new world.

Think they’re ready, Mr. Fluffy? For some cold, dead hedonism? Lick-ums! Blegh, less fish for you. Ugh… less nip for me…

Stuck around to the end? Awesome. You should check out the first four chapters of my first SELF-PUBLISHED novel, “Lie” (by me, Rathan Krueger). If they tickled your fancy, you should buy my eBook for $1.99 wherever you can buy them. Thanks a bunch.

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