Salvation

“You have an Esther calling!” they told me at church when I was about 12 or 13.

Other than praying for the homeless, victims of global warming and my loved ones…I’m not sure how I have an Esther calling. I’ve never been that loved by a living man in my entire life.

“A living man?!” says a genuine Christian with concern.

“Why, yes. I’m not at all convinced I’m able with God’s grace or blessing to talk to actual ghosts. Oh no. But, that being said, I’m also not convinced I’m not talking to them. Sorry. It’s intellectually dishonest for me to claim otherwise.” says Lacey.

Regardless…my life certainly has not been happy. I’m very blessed. In many ways. But other than my friendship with my ex-husband and my great kids…it’s all about the superficial. Tonight, watching Tik Tok, I realized that other than for my kids I’d rather have been born in the so-called Third World, less attractive, poor and yet genuinely loved. I’ve always subconsciously suspected that…but tonight it became more conscious. I wouldn’t have had kids (through surgery or abstinence or any other option except for abortion) if I could do anything about it. But I would have enjoyed being loved.

(I’m sure some idiotic narcissistic teasing reading my blog will lose their temper or bowls reading this post and make some joke in their head about mustering murdering me and my family. But…bless them…I genuinely wonder how their brains still manage to keep them alive…and I hope they find something better to entertain themselves with than thinking of hurting me. You guys are so much closer to death than you think…and it’s either literal demons or God’s mercy keeping you from dying. …It always was…but now it should obviously be very ugly and stupid to “hate on me.” And yet…sweethearts…your hatred is the only light I have. The dark shadow cast by light I just can’t see. Thank you for reminding of Hell and thus Christ with your evil efforts… But since I’m sure encouraging me is not your goal please do yourselves a favor and try to move on. Seriously. Stop. It’s sad, sweeties.)

Isn’t it weird I was given that label in a charismatic church (supposedly through the Holy Spirit) though? The label of someone with an “Esther calling.” …Was that about the life I was supposed to have had???

?

*eye-roll*

*cough*

Yeah…I’m over it.

I’m not expecting to ever be that happy, aside from raising my kids. At all. And it’s not mental-illness writing that. It’s sanity. It’s observation. Most of the men I’ve met have liked to fuck the shit out of me and then or preemptively shit in my face and strangle me from the inside out. And have my entire life. They’ve been like rabid pathogens eating away at my soul. …If it wasn’t for reading about men of the past (pre Boomer) and seeing men under the age of 30 alive today…I’d have killed myself as a teenager. Literally.

My ex-husband is a good friend but…I’d never have even thought of dating him if I’d had better options. And while he was a literal womanizing alcoholic when I met him, he’s the best man alive I’ve ever met who’s over 30. Sometimes I wonder if he was all of those things because he had a working spine and normally functioning body and refused the vile narrative promoted in the late 20th Century…and frankly…now that he isn’t all of those things…it’s sad to see how terrible of a match we were because if he’d been then who he is now he’d have made someone profoundly happy. Well…profoundly by sad 2022 standards.

If there’s a man over 30 and alive who’s more loving and could have actually truly loved me…I’d be shocked. I highly doubt he exists.

And it’s freeing to just be that honest. I’ve seen many women hope for love who are now in nursing homes or dead and I’m not about to be that victim of false hope. I’m calling it. It’s unlikely I’ll ever be loved that deeply by anyone alive ever.

No. You fool that’s just truth. Don’t @ me about it. You “kids” are clueless… There’s a reason why everyone alive not a Boomer or a “Boomer-byotch” is clinically depressed… Close to suicide. Get. *clap* A. *clap* Clue. *clap* Sweeties. *eye-roll* …Freud was a stupid, demonic-bitch sometimes. Many Boomer heroes were, sadly, objectively losers. And no, that’s not a moment to poop in your poor parent’s faces to look righteous yet again.

“My dad was my hero!” says a narcissistic Boomer bitterly implying loss of respect due to “hypocrisy” most likely…

“Must have been nice to have that much sincere respect earned and not just coercive-narcissistically demanded by your self-worshiping parents.” says a Millennial.

*handclap for the haters who selfishly ruined one of the only nice things life has ever allowed me involving other people*

Don’t kill yourselves just be star because you’re vile. Your evil isn’t worth having a human die for as long as you let it go. Just stop metaphorically shitting in people’s faces sweeties. Okay? Try. Really, really try. You don’t need to win Pretty, Pretty Princess. You can enjoy coming in second, darling.

*smile*

Also, just to reiterate, no…I’m straight. And I’m not interested in younger men. Or women. Younger men are lovely but…they’re so young. And I’d rather see them with someone their age.

No. I’m calling it.

“Is that why I was allowed to talk to her?” asks F. Scott Fitzgerald.

“Maybe.” says Harold.

“It’s a time warp.” says Zelda. “You just don’t understand it yet.”

“It’s just science.” says Lacey metaphorically.

“Yes.” says Harold. “You’re not talking to ghosts, per se. You’re talking to dead humans. There’s a difference.”

“I’m not sure what to say.” says Lacey.

“I’m very mad at Lem right now. You’re not supposed to be this depressed tonight.” says Michael.

*Louis laughs*

“He still can’t wrap his mind around it.” says Jack who’s starting to feel the increasingly uncomfortable.

“Wrap his mind around what?” asks Lacey.

“How he has to love you. And accept your innate vulnerability as a woman. …He’s not gay. I used him. At first I told him the partial truth but then after a while I kept him from realizing how much he’d rather have been with a woman. And it’s pathetic that so-called historians are too chicken or lazy or intellectually dishonest or vain or narcissistic or dumb or whorish or demonic to write that. Yes. I just said all of that. Look it up. And if you can’t don’t make assumptions. People lie about stupid things.” says Jack Kennedy. And yes, his older brother forced him to admit all of that. On penalty of having his arm twisted off.

*Louis laughs*

“It’s been Lacey talking this whole time.” says Lem, mumbling.

“What can I say? If I’m a ghost, why can she talk to me? Ask yourself why. Can’t answer it using a scripturally sound interpretation of the Bible? Without making her a witch or a New Ager. Then be more mindful not less mindful of the Bible. Be more determined to pursue Christ. Because it’s terrifying how vulnerable we are as a Church in our weakness in understanding the Word of God, the Holy Bible.” says Billy Graham.

“Thanks!” says Michael angrily to Billy. “Don’t imitate her. Don’t talk to ghosts. Pray to God.”

“What if they’re homeless?” asks Lacey. “Are homeless people who talk to people they can’t see conjuring demons?”

“Oh! Absolutely! Or they’re drug addicts. Or schizophrenics. All of them. No exceptions. No exceptions, Lacey. If I’d been President I’d have shot them all in the head to clean the streets. As a God-fearing Republican.” says Joe Jr. sarcastically.

“Would I have supported you in that grand endeavor as First Lady?” asks Lacey.

“You would given me the ammo and stood there cheering.” he says (still sarcastically).

“I hope it’s clear you’re making a gallows humor joke.” she says sadly.

“It is.” he says.

“And I would have fucked her on the side.” says Lem.

“You and me both.” says Louis.

Lacey is surprised by this.

So is Harold.

“I had an affair with a prostitute once in absolute desperation and despair. You know that… And I’m ashamed of it, and I repented. But I did do it. …How are you worse than that, at the very least? We would have met, Lacey.” says Louis.

“Fair enough.” says Lacey.

“Except, she’s not really one to so-called, fuck people.” chimes in Billy Graham.

Silence.

“Lem was straight by the way.” says Billy Graham. He seems angry at Lacey as he says this.

“Why does that make you angry?” she asks him.

“Because he’s suffered enough. He doesn’t need any more suffering from-“ but then he cuts himself off. “You’re not trying to prosecute him are you?”

“No.”

Lem is embarrassed.

“I let him make a fool of himself.” says Michael. “He shouldn’t be talking to you. But he needed to explain something.”

“She’s in love with me. I just couldn’t-I got used to seeing women with men. And that was all I had of women. My whole life. To satisfy myself in any real way. And it’s not that I wanted you to be some other man. I just…I wasn’t aware of how awful it actually fully was at the time. Because as pathetic as it sounds I was distracted. I was enjoying it being a woman I wanted.” Lem explains.

“That’s why I spoke up!” says Billy Graham. “He needed to finally be honest about that.”

“I watched and it wasn’t exactly pleasurable but it was…vaguely satisfying.” Lem clarifies.

“Just to see a naked woman?” says Lacey.

“Yes.” says Lem embarrassed.

Silence.

“Now bisexual women and lesbians will be angry at you.” says Louis. “For being positively ignorant about the wonders of the naked female form.”

“Dear God help us.” says Lacey, quite sincerely.

“If you truly are allowed to date ghosts…you don’t have to date younger men.” says Louis.

“But I’m still not even sure if it’s allowed.” says Lacey. “I was just praying about it tonight.”

“And yet you have!” says Lem in rage. Polite, gentle rage.

“True. But I always am ready to pivot at second’s notice.” she replies.

“It’s like a drug!” says a whispering demon, whether that’s factually true or not.

“Were they talking about talking to ghosts or sexual activity?” asks Lacey in reference to the demon.

“Talking to ghosts.” says Lem.

“Right.”

“Except it’s not.” says Michael.

“Okay! Okay! Okay! But guys! Guys!!! Guys! Guys, Lem talks…with a gay voice. And supposedly dated men. And some supposed friends supposedly were under the impression he was gay. AND he was into art and decorating and food! And he talked about sucking dicks! Guys he talked about it!” says Kate Spade.

(She died repentant)

“No. He didn’t talk about it really almost ever.” another ghost says.

“Yes! He did! He must have! We know he was gay. We have it in his biography! It’s historical fact. It’s been verified by observation and historical evidence.” says a smart ghost.

“No. He was straight. He was acting gay. Straight actors do it all the time. Lacey could actually have observed it. Both consciously and subconsciously.” says another ghost.

“I just can’t imagine being that…eccentric.” says Lacey.

“You’re right. It is genuinely shocking.” agrees Truman.

“It’s why I got so angry.” says Joe. “No, Lacey. You don’t understand why it makes me so angry.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s right about so much. But he decided he was in love with my brother before he’d ever had a real taste of actual love. It poisoned his tastes. Not that he was innocent. Jack, I mean. But he had no idea what effect a woman he personally found attractive could have on him.” says Joe.

“How do you make that mistake?!” asks Lacey in disbelief.

“I know. It’s confusing.” says Joe. “He just never saw a naked woman like you.”

“That’s difficult to believe.” says Lacey

“Well-“ Louis interrupts. “I think the thing is-I might have had an affair with you. But you aren’t one to sleep with many people. Ever. And finding someone like you to watch with Jack wouldn’t have happened.”

“So all we know is that the women Jack found attractive enough to stomach sleeping with to prove he was straight weren’t like you enough to arouse Lem enough to awaken his urges enough to act. And…he thought engaging in homosexual acts in a sexless, mechanical manner was normal. Also…we know Lem liked women enough to enjoy watching, but…BUT…but…he wasn’t ever allowed to fully express that for fear of offending people and out of disdain for the way he felt the women were complicit in a certain sort of heartlessness.” says Kate Spade.

Silence.

“Because…Lem was not just trying to break-up their marriage. He in fact, wasn’t at all.” she laughs. “He was enraged. By the senselessness of the marriage because he thought Jackie deserved better. But he cared about those kids.”

“I hated my life. I wasn’t a shallow bastard, Lacey. And yes, you’d think I would have been more jealous if I cared. Of all his many female sexual partners. It’s bullshit to say that a bisexual or gay man in love could tolerate that kind of constant sharing. I wasn’t tolerating it. I just didn’t think I was straight. And so…in truth I lived vicariously through Jack with women. But, I didn’t realize it at the time…” he trails off sadly. “I far preferred watching him with women too. Over being with him. That’s the thing. I thought I was gay. And when I said I was his best friend in my famous closing argument- *eye-roll* …People don’t think how that’s also about him being with women. And my supposed assistance with that. I lived vicariously through him. That was very much a part of our connection. We loved to talk about that. And it made me feel less lonely. Without a wife of my own. Being…fake gay.”

“Why didn’t you tell her this sooner?” asks Michael.

Lacey does seem hurt by that.

“That’s why I’m here.” says Michael. “She’s hurt, Lem. Think about it.

“Men want a damsel in distress!” says Lacey, paraphrasing an acceptably “butch” cis straight woman comedian. “Then she mocks women like me. And acts like she’s more normal, intelligent, honest, Godly and possibly sensitive.” Lacey pauses to reflect. “Men don’t prefer women like me over her. As much as she mocks women like me…she seems far more genuinely confused and troubled and in need of some male assistance.” she concludes.

“That is manipulative.” Lem realizes slowly. “I-“

“And that Lem! That! That is the sort of women Jack would a be. Not Lacey!” says Kate Spade.

“Lacey would be off with Louis getting drunk in Paris. Telling everyone but a few people that she’s somewhere else.” says Michael.

Lem is confused.

“Why is she lying about it?!” he asks.

“Because she would want to appear and be safe. Think. Unless she’d be with you? Or are you afraid to approach her because she’s Joe’s young second wife? Because then I’m either tolerating your flirtations or? Being kind? Or? What? I’m worried Louis will emerge or Harold? Or who? I’m old? And she’s not? Because I know you’ve had that thought. Of her being brought by Joe or Bobby to your apartment? As their bizarrely unattached, beautiful friend? …I was born later than you. Think about it.” Michael says.

*Billy Graham laughs*

“No, it’s insane how I’ve tolerated her being with other people.” he says.

Michael nods.

“I might have to hurt you.” he says to Michael.

“Hurt me too.” says Billy Graham.

“I’m sorry.” he says to them sincer. “She has no idea what I went through thinking of her back then. Those long, cold train rides. I’d sit and stare out the window imagining her, wishing the part of me that still was a man-“

“I’m not sure why I’ve let you down quite that much.” says Lacey.

“Because I didn’t and don’t want to share you.” he says.

“Why does that seem so-so unlikely? So…illusory? Like a pretension to love. Not the certain, unambiguous, intractable, definitive, impossible to deny boundaries of true love. It didn’t and doesn’t feel real to me. I’d love for it to be. But I won’t be guilted and manipulated by lies.” she says.

“You’re too pretty to be that confused!” says a dead Englishwoman incredulously.

And then the haters will claim she’s crazy, weird or stupid or secretly ugly somehow. Because she can’t be just rightly confused and exceptional.

“If I really screwed-up that much…” Lem is worried.

But he’s not G