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Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."
« Reply #135 on: June 01, 2023, 02:19:08 AM »
In Theology class the next day, we were reading aloud from Saint Bonaventure, the 13th century Catholic scholar.  There was a sentence in there which resonated with me--don't quote me exactly, but it was something about the Great One, the Good One, wanting nothing more to embrace us.  And not together, but one by one. 

I was craving embraces so much.  In our suite, we did an affirmation exercise on Monday night.  Monday Night Football had been a big deal for years, but the 1987 NFL strike had ruined it, at least for September and October.  We did affirmation exercises instead.  The one that night was giving each other chest hugs close enough to feel each others' heartbeats.  About half the girls were tearing up during the exercise, so I didn't stand out when I did.

"Lisa.  I never noticed how good you smell."  That comment came up a lot that night.  Was I really stand-off-ish with my suite mates?  Why didn't they already know I usually smell good?  That it's my 'thing'?.

My suite mate from Cleveland made sure we were hugging at the end of the exercise.  She said she wanted to spoon with me in bed.  Clothes on; nothing sexual.

Four hours later, when the crappy Replacement Player football game was over (I hope my Dad fell asleep on the couch with Maria), my Cleveland suite mate and I were naked spooning, me behind her, my erect clit touching her pussy lips.

We were humping, but so gently.  Sort of sexual, sort of not.  She directdd my hands to her hard breasts.  I carressed them gently.

We came together after 3 hours of humping.

Then we faced each other and kissed and hugged.  I liked that better than the humping.

Maybe I was making progress.

The next morning I was tired.

But less sad.

To be continued....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."
« Reply #136 on: June 03, 2023, 03:28:42 PM »
I start attending Mass at Miami, both Sunday and even on weekdays, specifically for the Sign of Peace hugs.  I wonder if the other students who are here, especially the coeds, are doing it for the same reasons I am.

That they're sad.  Of trying to keep away the sadness they felt in the past.

That they miss their childhood home.  And miss their parents, before they turned into old women and midlife crisis men.

That their fed up with men.  Men who don't know thd right way to approach women.  How to ask them out on a date.  How to ask them for sex.  What kinds of things to do with them .... and to them .... once they're in bed together.

At Mass one day, they read the parable of the Five Wise Virgins who brought oil for their lamps, and the Five Foolish Virgins who didn't prepare properly.  The Five Wise Virgins refuse to share their oil, and the Foolish Virgins get locked out of the Wedding Feast.

I wish one of the uncharitable Virgins dropped her oil and got locked out too.  I wonder if in real life one of the Foolish Virgins would offer to fight for the oil.

Or if one of the Wise Ones would.

Some things are worth having a girlfight over.

To be continued....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."
« Reply #137 on: June 04, 2023, 01:41:44 AM »
On Friday, October 16, 1987, the wheels started to come off the U.S. stock market.  Lorraine called me Friday night in tears, telling me she had bought P&G stock and call options on margin.  If the market didn't recover on Monday, she would get a margin call, be forced to sell, and lose everything.

The market crashed on October 19.  Down 22% in total, with P&G stock down almost as much.  It bounced up a bit on Tuesday the 20th, but crashed again on Wednesday the 21st.

The account balance statement I had sneaked a look at when I drove to Lorraine's apartment at Cincinnati now said $0.00.

She was broke at 25.

> What am I going to fo Lisa?

> Hang in there, Lorraine.  Xou have your career.

> I don't, Lisa.

> Wha? ....  why not?

> My selling ... the margin call .... I wasn't allowed to do that.  It was restricted stock.

> They won't fire someone for that, will they?

> Not that .... alone. 

> Well?  You haven't done anything else?  [HAS she??]

> Lisa .... they got out the letter you wrote.  The harrassment letter.

> I'll withdraw it, Lorraine.  I',ll say I lied.

> They fired me.

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."
« Reply #138 on: June 09, 2023, 12:43:51 PM »
Lorraine's rent in her Cincinnati apartment was paid through December 1987, but she had no way of paying anything beyond that.  She asked if she could crash in my suite at Miami until she figured out how to get home to Rhode Island.  One of our suitemates was in the process of flunking out, so we all agreed to let her use that bed and space (and meal plan).

Incredibly, I had to pick Lorraine up from Cincinnati and drive her up to Miami.  Because she didn't own a car.

> Lorraine??  You didn't own a fucking car that whole time in Cincinnati.

> Nah.  I just walked to work.  Or took a cab on rainy days.

> But what about groceries?  How'd you get them home?

> I ate out a lot.  But if I needed a guy to deliver something, I'd barter.

> Barter?

> Ya know--you carry my stuff; I'll give you a blow job.

> Ew.  Slut.

> Don't tell me you've never done it.

> Lorraine .... listen to me carefully ...  I ... have .... never.... given ... a stranger .... a blow job.  [I don't tell her this, but the total number of blow jobs I've given is less than five.]

> Prude.

> Slut.

It's good to have you back, Lorraine.

Bitch.

To be continued...

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."
« Reply #139 on: June 10, 2023, 01:10:31 AM »
Within a couple of nights of temporarily moving into my dorm suite, Lorraine was finding her way into my bed every night.  I showed her the erect-clit-from-behind spooning my Cleveland suitemate and I had figured out.  We loved doing it while hissing insults to each other.

I fucking hate you, Lorraine.

You're such a fucking bitch, Lisa.

Loser.

Harrasser.

Failure.

Broke-ass cxnt.

Both of us were broke as fuck.  We had nothing to show for our education to date, despite getting all the advantages of internship at P&G.  We were pretty sorry fuck-ups.

On top of that, Lorraine had 2 other addictions.  The first one I noticed when I would come back from class, and Lorraine would be listening to the stock market update on WCBS on AM radio.  She'd have this checklist of stocks she'd be following.  I was pretty sure she got into a hole on her P&G stock not just from the October 19 crash--that she had been trading other stocks on margin.  Not for income--but as an addiction.

Her other addiction I was more sure off--alcoholism.  Her breath at night would reek of rubbing alcohol.  Anything she could scavange up in the suite.  My Dad and I in the late 1970s watched a ridiculous TV movie where these plane crash survivors were stranded on an isolated island, and a doctor was performing makeshift surgery on a wounded fellow survivor, and begged aloud for "Alcohol!  I need alcohol!  Anyone here have rubbing alcohol??", and another survivor gave up his flask of rubbing alcohol which he had been sipping from the whole movie.  My Dad cracked up at what a lame, contrived scenario the writers have conjured. 

But that's what Lorraine was actually doing inour suite.  Sucking on hand sanitizer or eye-moisturizer or anything with even semi-alcohol content.

I thought she was pathetic.

And yet I knew exactly the sad, empty place she was coming from.

The man-boys of this world who couldn't flirt with you.  Or, if they did flirt, didn't ask you out.  Or, if they did ask you out, didn't invite you to bed.

Wanna know what made me the saddest?

The men who were just curious if you would get into bed with them.  And once you said, "Yes,' were like, "Oh, sweet."  They didn't want to fuck-- no, no, no, they were goid, thank you, at this point.  Knowing that you WOULD fuck them.

No actual fucking was going to happen.  Not now.  Not ever.

They were just curious.  And I had satisfied their curiosity.

It made me sad everytime that happened.

Lorraine had experienced it, too.

I turned to fighting.

Lorraine turned to .... rubbing alcohol, I guess.

And we were both headed no where because of it.

To be continued.....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."
« Reply #140 on: June 10, 2023, 04:18:21 AM »
In early November 1987, I call my Mom to give her a heads-up that when I come home for Winter Break, I'm bringing Lorraine.  Yes, Lorraine.  the College Girl that came to our house to fight me in 1985.  Yes, Mom, THAT Lorraine.

> Lisa, is everything ok?  Is there something you're not telling me.

> [There's 1,000 things I'm not telling you, Mom.  Isn't that what a mother-daughter relationship is?  Not telling each other stuff?]  Mom, ..., remember when your Dad died?  In 1974?

> Yes, of course, sweetie.  What about it?

> Remember how before the funeral, you told me Grandma might cry?

> [I'm pretty sure I hear my Mom gasp.  Or sigh.  One or the other.]  Lisa, sweetie.  Wherever are you going with this?

> Mom .... the only one crying at the funeral was .... you.

> Lisa .... honey ..... how do you remember all this??  WHY .... do you remember all this?

> [I actually momentarily forget why I'm bringing all this crap up.]  Mom .... Mom, I'm really sad.  Lorraine's really sad, too.  .... Mom, she and I need each other right now ..... I don't know for how long ... But for now, we need each other.

> Lisa ..... and I don't mean this confrontationally .... I'm asking out of pure curiosity .... are you and Lorraine gay?

> Mom ..... don't ask about me AND Lorraine ....

> I'm sorry, honey drop Lorraine .... I didn't mean anything by that ....

> [i'm glad my Mom caught herself .... this isn't a Lisa-Lorraine-reveal conversation .... This is about me .... or needs to be] Thank you, Mom .... Mom, I'm gay.... Mom, I like being with girls ..... Mom, it's too hard with guys ...  Mom, the ... what's it called .... not flirting .... Mom, the small talk .... the beating around the bush, pun intended ... [I never thought I'd be talking 'bush' with my Mom] ... the propositioning .... Mom, it's easier with girls ..... Well, girls like Lorraine, at least .... Mom Tommy was Ssssooooo Ssmmmmaaall ... [my Mom chuckles..... is my Dad small?  I've never seen him] ..... Mom .... I feel sssooo goood dpooning with Lorraine .... since she came here .... [My Mom has been quiet for awhile now] .... Mom, am I rambling???....

> Lisa, I love it when you ramble.  It reminds you when you're 7.

[My Mom and I are both sobbing into the phone by now.  We awkwardly say goodbye. .... We forget to say we love each other.]

Later that night, Lorraine comes into my bed and asks me what I need to hear.

> Lisa ..... Wanna fuck?

To be continued....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."
« Reply #141 on: June 10, 2023, 09:44:57 PM »
Lorraine and I spend Thanksgiving in Rhode Island at my Mom's house.  My Mom thoughtfully lets Lorraine and I use her queen-size bed in the master bedroom, while taking the twin bed in what had been my bedroom for herself.  Lorraine and I do the same spooning at night the we hsd been doing at school, and both manage to cum a few times, although not as frequently .... or as enthusiastically .... as we hsd been cumming in my dorm bed.  Knowing my Mom in a few yards away .... and can probably hear us, at least if we get carried away ..... subdues our coital gynmastics.

And, when we hiss in each others' ears, we do it in a whispering voice.

-You're sssuccchh a slut.

-You're a dirty wench.

-Your cxnt is filthy.

-You're a nasty bitch.

Thanksgiving Dinner is intimate but sad.  We decide to confront the sadness elephant directly, by talking about him openly over turkey.

> Did Dad say what he and Maria are doing for Thanksgiving?

> They're going to Maria's parents house.

> [Gasp] WHAT?  And Maria's Mom is ok with that?

> Maria's Mom is ok with .... THEM???  With them together?

> Well, the rumor is ... and this is uncorroborated .... but the rumor is that Maria's Mom is developing Alzheimer's .... and that the Dad already has it.

> Oh .... that's kinda sad ..... Mom, how many times must I have had sleepovers there in grade school and middle school .... the Dad always WAS kinda quiet .... kinda like he couldn't keep up with the conversation.

> Still, so young .... stil in their 50s, right?

> I wonder if that why Maria ran to your Dad, Lisa.  Fear of both her parents slipping away.  Trying to find a new one.

> Yeah, great .... by taking mine.  What a bitch.

> Yeah, what a fucking bitch.

> Is that who you two were whispering about in bed last night?

> Wha....?

> Huh?

> I dinstictly heard from xour bedroom last night .... both of you saying 'fucking bitch' ..... over and over.

> [Blushing]

> Umm,  .... Mom .... , I'm not gonna lie .... when Lorraine and I are doing it, we call each other names.

> Ohh .... and, that's a turnon?

> If it was anyone else?  No.  But wizh her?   Hell yeah.

> Oh.

> .....

> .....

> You 2 girls are full of surprises.

To be continued.....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."
« Reply #142 on: June 13, 2023, 05:01:29 AM »
On the Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend, Lorraine and I attend the Vigil Mass for the Feast of Christ the King at a basilica just outside Providence.  Since I've graduated from a Catholic high school and attend Miami of Ohio, I know that the Feast of Christ the King was instituted in the 1920s by Pope Pius XI, in the wake of World War I and the fall of the Hapsburgs, the Romanovs, and the Hohenzollerns.  Various strongmen were setting themselves up as dictators of their countries, and the Pope wanted them to know that the Truly Risen Christ wasn't just King of Heaven--he was King of the Universe, on and outside Earth.

The celebrant of the Mass was was a heavily-accented but clearly pious Filipino priest.  His every gesture was saintly, untainted; so different than mine since 1985.  He chanted the concluding Doxology of the Eucharistic Prayer in such perfect Latin that it may as well been from an angel--
Ipsum, cum ipso, et en ipso.....

Through Him, and with Him and in Him;
In unity with the Holy Spirit,
All Glory and honor is yours, Almighty Father,
Forever and ever.
Amen.

The Filipino priest is chanting in Latin, but my mind is comprehending it in ..... English .... I guess .... I'm understanding and feeling every word as if my native language is Latin.  Lorraine and I hold hands so tight that a complete Love washes over us.

A love for each other.
And an acceptance of ourselves.  Who we are.  Where we stand in our lives.

I wish the Filipino priest could come home with us, and chant his prayers endlessly to us.

As the soundtrack to our lives.

I stand in line and receive Holy Communion from the Filipino priest on my tongue.  I wonder if he comprehends how much his chanying has helped me.

Lorraine and I drive home in silence, a completely pious and holy silence.  My Mom has dinner waiting for us--lamb chops, which are expensive to buy and awkward to prepare.  I wonder when she thought yo get us that.  It reminds me of my suite mates in Cleveland, women always remaining behind at home to prepare a homecooked meal for those at Mass.

I crave that lifestyle for myself after graduation.

I ask Lorraine if she does too.

'I crave fucking you constantly, Lisa.'

That answer foesn't address my question.  But I like it.

To be continued.....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."
« Reply #143 on: June 18, 2023, 01:44:38 AM »
As Lorraine strips in my Mom's bedroom at night and I'm unable to see her in the early New England Nov/Dec dusk, I think back to my high school sleepovers with Maria--some at my house, some at hers. 

At bedtime, we would strip unashamedly in front of each other, thinking nothing of it.  And in the Nov/Dec dusk, without consequence anyways, as we could make out each others' nude forms only in outline anyways.

But the June sleepovers were an entirely different matter.  We would frequently change into pajamas as soon as 7:45pm (so as to be ready for Lawrence Welk at 8pm on WCVB-5), with the full pre-twilight sun still glaring into the windows.

Our now-fully formed adult breasts were now on display, completely and  transparently, to each others' side stare.  We silently acknowledged that while I had been the prodigy in breast develolment, Maria had entered womanhood as the winner and champion.  Both in bust size, and cup size, she had somehow surpassed me.

Of all the things I ended up hating about Maria, I hated her late-bloomer breasts the most.

Is that why my Dad eventually left my Mom?

To make himself available to the plus-sized Maria?

I ask Lorraine in bed, "What fo you think of me having better breasts than you?".

> "I hate it.  And I hate you.  Bitch."

> "Good."

To be continued....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."
« Reply #144 on: June 23, 2023, 02:03:03 AM »
I made the drive back to Miami alone, leaving Lorraine behind at my Mom's place until 4 weeks from now and Christmas Break.  My Mom realized that if Lorraine didn't get a job and get out of the house soon, she'd sponge off of my Mom and I, but even worse build up an ugly gap in her resume.

Lorraine and I had both stepped off of the P&G hamster wheel.  But there was no stepping off of the capitalism hamster wheel.  We were both getting closer by the week to being single middle-aged women with no careers.

But worse than having no careers .... having no careers after having P&G shareholder wealth in our grasp.  Stock compensation.  Shaerholder dividends.  Capital gains.

How had we blown it all?  ..... and so fast? 

Was it because of the fight I had started with Lorraine when she was still at Wheaton?  We didn't even finish that fight the first day.  We both ended up fighting each others' Wing Girls.  We fought each other later .... and became lovers .... after finding out we were both gay.

Had 'the system' figured out we were gay .... and filtered us out .... by our strange behavior?

In 1987, we didn't have the words to understand privilege and oppression.  Lorraine and I had privilege by being white .... and attractive blondes.  But we were women in a man's world.  And lesbians in a straight person's world.

And we made mistakes that people like us didn't recover from in the 1980s.

Get serious, Lisa.  No more fighting.  No more chickfights.

No matter how much you like it.

Can I pull it off?

To be continued.... 

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."
« Reply #145 on: June 24, 2023, 03:43:29 PM »
During the last couple of weeks of the Fall 1987 semester at Miami, a few of us in the Catholic office staff training program get taken to a hermitage in rural Ohio.

Hermitage.  More holy than a chapel, but less holy than a parish church or a basilica.  I had heard that word before in middle school--it was what Andrew Jackson, the 7th U.S.President called his estate-home in Tennessse.  I now understood why he called it that.

Hermitage comes from the word hermit.  As in contemplative monks in the Early Church who withdrew from the world to contemplate the Gospels and the Commune with the Lord and prepare to meet him in the next life.  Today, in 1987, the residents were mostly nuns, and novices considering becoming nuns.  There really were monk and nuns in 20th century Ohio--a jarring thought to contemplate for even a Catholic High School graduate.  I mean, of course there were priests, and always would be.  But actual monks?

The women in in hermitage were really naive in the ways of the world, in more ways than one.  One of those ways being finances and money.  They need full-time educated secular women like me looking out for their property and their nutritional and shelter needs.

And, maybe .... maybe, just maybe .... they were trying to "tempt" us Miami undergrads into becoming novices ourselves.  Shoild I become a nun?  Had I already sinned too much?  Would that just be me hiding my non-heterosexuality?  the fact that I would never get married?

Andrew Jackson.  Funny he felt the need for a Hermitage.  He had a major chip in his shoulder his entire life.  Would fight on a moment's notice.  Almost looked for fights. 

Like me.  Always looking for a good chickfight.

Maybe if I spent my life in hermitages I would chill out.  Not be catfighting all the time.

To be continued....


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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."
« Reply #146 on: June 24, 2023, 09:14:14 PM »
Sitting in the quiet stillness .... the serene stillness .... of the rural Ohio hermitage (my new favorite word .... and place), I reflect on the parallels between a chickfight and a girls' tennis match.

> You face each other 1on1.  No teammates.  No substitutes.  Just you and her.

> You're each carrying a fairly menacing stick.

> There's a waist-length net separating the two of you.  Like dogs in a kennel needing to be physically separarted.

> You both get sweaty.  But mostly the losing girl.

> You trade blows; unlike other sports, literally you take a shot ... then her .... then you .... then her .... like a faceslapping duel.  If that's not primal, I don't know what is.

> You both dress snappy .... yet practically.

> Two girls enter, one girl leaves.

> Only one girl can be the best.

Do these thoughts show I'm growing into a better version of myself?

Or that I'm going to fall to my addiction.... like Lorraine fell to her trading addiction.

I'm guessing I'll know by 1990.

To be continued....

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Offline Nataliefightsyou

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Re: Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."
« Reply #147 on: June 24, 2023, 09:57:42 PM »
Love this

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."
« Reply #148 on: June 25, 2023, 02:47:01 PM »
Christmas 1987 was a bittersweet pill to swallow.  On the one hand, Lorraine was still staying with my Mom and me, so my Mom's home was the liveliest it had been since my Mom got divorced.  I think she enjoyed the busy house.  Lorraine was also showing signs of genuine .... happiness.  I think she realized how sterile her downtown Cincinnati apartment was ... how there was nothing to her life but her career.

She and I would sit on my Mom's couch for hours just kissing each other.  I loved the moans of contentment I could get out of her if I kissed her just right.

That was the sweet part.  The bitter part was not seeing my Dad for Christmas.  He was still living with Maria, my childhood friend.  There was no way I was going to see him if he was picking Maria over me.

When we (Mom, Lorraine, me) went to Christmas Eve Mass, I felt the house calling to me, beckoning to me, to skip Mass and just kiss with Lorraine for another hour.  I wasn't tempted by the voice ... I wanted to go the Mass, and anyways I had a whole Winter Break ahead of me to kiss with Lorraine.  But it reminded me of 11:15am Sunday mornings growing up.  My Mom pestering me to get dressed and ready for Mass .... and that same voice tempting me to skip Mass and which NFL pre-game football with my Dad. 

In the days after Christmas, that same voice began tempting me again.  Not anything about Mass or Church .... but about getting into a catfight during Winter Break.  Maria was the obvious choice ..... but I had beat her ass so bad when we fought over the summer, I wanted that memory to stick in her craw for awhile.

A better choice was Maureen.  My high school classmate, who I had fought in the bathroom while our friends guarded the door.

What a hard fight that had been; more like two guys fighting with fists than two girls catfighting.  Maureen still lived in yhe neighborhood, in HER childhood home, with het Mom.

On December 29, Lorraine and I drove past her home.  It was a mild day for Rhode Island in December.

Maureen was in her driveway on a lawn chair with a bottle of beer in her hand.

Lorraine and I parked the car and got out.  There was no where for us to sit.

> Real classy, Maureen.

> Lisa, Lisa.  I was wondering if you might be home for the holidays.  Did you bring me my Christmas present?

> I think my purse has $100 in it. ..... If you can take it from me.

> [She gets up slowly, precisely understanding the challenge I just issued her.]  Let's go in the backyard, bitch.  No one will interrupt us.

> Lorraine can watch, right?

> Lorraine can drag your sorry ass home after I kick your ass, Lisa.

> Ok.  Let's go.  Bitch.

To be continued.....

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Offline sinclairfan

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Re: Lisa vs Lorraine: "See what she says."
« Reply #149 on: June 25, 2023, 06:48:04 PM »
Writing about these events, and my life and family and friends, three and a half decades, I can definitively say that the North Star of my life has been the Catholic Church.  By that, I don't mean that I always followed the teachings of the Church.  What I mean is that no matter how off track my life got, I could return to the Church, and it had barely changed.  And cumulatively, over three and a half decades, it still hasn't changed much, despite half my lifetime having passed me by.  Contrary to the consensus of today's secular society, there's value in that.  It brings real actual comfort to real, actual, damaged people.  No matter how much longer I have to live and breathe and write, I'll continue to speak those words.  Because I believe them to be true.

But, back to my story.  What HAS changed since 1987?  In 1987, there was no texting, no internet to speak of, no wifi, no social media, no Xbox or PlayStation.  When it was the two to six weeks of Winter Break, depending on where you were in your education journey, you couldn't just post on your Instagram where you were hanging out for the duration, if you were amused or bored, if you were looking to hook up, if you were looking to fight an old rival or enemy.

So, a perverse reverse logic kicked in--if you "lay low", everyone would just assume you were one of the cool kids with rich parents with access to a beachside condo in Florida, and were escaping the cold and ice and drear of the New England winter, so don't even bother calling your number (on a freakin' land line!).  So your voluntary laying low would morph into involuntary solitude, and missing out on every party, for 6 weeks.

No, no, no ...... if you were around, you needed to "get out there", show your face.  Like Lorraine and I were doing, driving around aimlessly ('cruising').  Or like Maureen was doing, sitting on lawn furniture in her front yard.

The free-floating electron found the ionized atom, and attracted each other.

And we both felt like fighting.

We both liked it.  And were good at it.

Although it was seasonally mild, it was still chilly out in absolute terms.  So Maureen and I left our sweatshirts on.  Which made us less vulnerable to scratching.  And gave a layer of protection from fists and knees.  Those would need to come at the endgame of the fight.  When we could aim directly for the nose and mouth.

The opening and middle game would have to resort to the chickfight classic tactic ..... hairpulling.

And Maureen's was long and thick.  And was wearing it down.

I grabbed two handfuls and twisted and pulled and yanked with all my might.  Because I was fucking angry.

And I wanted Lorraine to see me win.

> Fuck you, bitch, let go of my hair.

> When you let go of mine.

> That ain't happenin', Maureen.

> I should have fucking reported you after our high school fight, gotten you expelled.

> [I wonder if she's heard that I managed to get myself expelled from my career path anyways.]  Because you're a rat narc, Maureen, you fucking loser bitch.

Whether she heard MY story or not, I've managed to stumble into HERS.  All the fight comes out of her at my insult.

Maybe it was 'loser'?  Does she think of herself as a loser?

I mount her.  Earlier than I expect, I can start aiming my fists direct at her mouth.  She's bleeding after less than 20 hits.  She can taste it and gives.

> Anytime you want a rematch, bitch, just ask.

>  Fuck you, Lisa.

> You want more, Maureen.

Lorraine grabs me and drives me home.

We have the best sex since I get back from Winter Break.

I fall asleep for 2 days.

My Mom shakes me out of bed.

> Happy New Year, Lisa.  It's 1988!

To be continued....