If straight are women inherently drawn to and eventually marry men that are like their fathers is the same true of gay women being drawn to women who are like their mothers? I think can answer that question quite confidently with a loud and resounding “yes!” Mirs is my mother with twinges of my father as well while remaining, for the most part, just Mirs.
Mirs, her mother, and mine are all Virgos. My father is a Leo. I am a Libra. Mirs is a Virgo by only one day which means that while she’s mostly Virgo, she has some of those lovely Leo tendencies as well. I always knew that Mirs had some Pathy Davis in her; she hates a mess, she’s particular *read anal retentive* about how things are or are not properly cleaned, she’s a bit neurotic. On the other hand, she also has those sweet loving characteristics that I love in Virgos-she’s unbelievably giving, she’s incredibly kind and caring and crazy smart.
We’ve been living together officially for a day, less than 24 hours, actually and the neurotic Virgo characteristics have already started to rear its sometimes nasty head. I knew it would be tough, and it has nothing to do with us, its the space-or lack there of. Its basically a studio that we’re living in, and its really only comfortable with one person or two with amazing organizational skills. We are those two with amazing organizational skills; we just have a storage problem which is making the organizational skills a bit more difficult. Which, in turn, is making it a bit hectic to deal with. Or, in Mirs’ case, unbearable.
Yesterday we got a storage place from Manhattan mini storage. The room is 4X4X5. It actually perfectly fits all of my excess shit and we’ll most likely have room to fit some of our camping stuff, winter coats, etc. that is taking up so much precious space at our place and making my sweet and normally sane love of my life turn into the slightly insane woman who looks an awful lot like one miss Pathy Ann Davis.
My mother used to get this look on her face when the sight of an unorganized cupboard, refrigerator, messy room, or cluttered counter top became more than she could handle. Her eyes would go all wide and wild, sometimes the left one would twitch a bit. She’d look frantically at the mess or clutter at hand, eyes darting back and forth assessing the situation. She’d pace back and forth, like an agitated tiger at a zoo, before pouncing at said mess or clutter cleaning agents, sponge, broom, mop; which ever weapon necessary and attack.
I’d watch this process unfolding before my eyes, sometimes catching the triggers; an out of place clothing article or kitchen appliance not returned to it’s place before hand. If I’d only put the toaster back or my folded clothes into the drawers the madness could have, would have been prevented. Instead, I’d shrink back against a wall while she went in a fury with bucket and rag to the floor on her hands and knees practically salivating in lust over the chance of completing a cleaning job properly.
I saw this same look this morning. We’d woken up after getting drunk off of home made mojitos and guacamole watching the Portland Trailblazers kick the shit out of the Lakers. We’d passed out in each other’s arms-leaving the mess of making mojitos, tortillas, and guac all by hand-in the kitchen.
I woke up quite leisurely, we stretched, yawned, and stroked each other’s bodies. She was the first out of bed to turn on the water for the coffee. She returned back and we snuggled a bit more before I got out of bed to pee. I returned ready to snuggle more and the lights were all on and she had the look. I peered into the kitchen to see what she saw-the mess, my shit, the lack of space. It wasn’t pretty. Full of all of the messy details that I will not mention here because crazy neurosis aside, my lady is pretty outstanding and wonderful.
Thankfully, I’m a Libra. I’m pretty laid back, go with the flow, things will all work out, love, peace, easy breezy calm. Let’s just say I made her apple cinnamon pancakes and pumped her full of coffee while cleaning the kitchen mess. She attacked the bedroom with zeal and I left her for 2 hours to retrieve the last of my stuff from Harlem.
I returned to an apologetic and grateful girlfriend who thanked me for my calm in her craziness. We balance each other out. I’m her yin to my hang, the she’s the cream to my coffee, I’m the cheese to her macaroni…