azurelunatic: Abstract.  (bondmates)
Do you believe in monogamy?

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I join the crowds who say "What kind of fool question is this?" and "Monogamy is not Santa Claus". Does monogamy care whether I believe in it? Would monogamy exist if I didn't believe in it?

But the intent of the question!

I believe that it is possible, in general, for some human beings to behave monogamously. I believe that some human beings are wired to pair-bond monogamously. I know that I am one of the humans that requires an intense pair-bond in order to behave monogamously, and that forcing me to behave monogamously in the absence of that pair-bond is a recipe for disaster.

I also know that it is unlikely for me to achieve a mutual pair-bond like that at this time. So monogamy can go suck it.

Weekend.

29/7/07 12:31
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Saturday was for anime. We watched the remainder of Gravitation, and the beginning of Weiß Kreuz. Then we went home.

Without me noticing, somehow the Relationship Status indicator in my head has changed from "Involved monogamously; that would be cheating" through "Not Fucking Interested (in any of you)" to "On the rebound -- not fair to any of us", still with a side of "still not interested unless you in fact are all that and a bundle of cat macroes".

Today is Laundry Day. [livejournal.com profile] hcolleen is finishing up The Book. She is folded up on the living room floor (we have living room floor! and it's not set aside for a JD!) using the two new Clue Bat 2.1s as a stand for the book. She has about 60 pages to go. She mentioned $CHAPTER_TITLE; I told her that $CHAPTER_TITLE made a lot of people reaction ). (It is the last chapter. I expect that I will be hit for that. Possibly with both clue bats at once.)

There was a flying beetle of Not Insignificant Size in the apartment last night. After it startled me the first three times it showed up, I resolved to lie in wait for it with a bottle of dusting spray and a fistful of paper napkins. Alas, it foiled me still by failing to start flying around when I was waiting for it. Perhaps Hermione-cat will have gotten it.

The laundry room featured approximately four small children. Perhaps it was three, as I only actually saw three of them, but I think there may have been four. I think the oldest was about eight. The oldest one was keeping the rest of them in line, more or less. They were indulging in creative activities such as leaping off the counter, accidentally dropping things in the trash, figuring out whose turn it was to leap off the counter, and making deals involving the rest of the kids not tattling about the accidentally dropping things in the trash part. There was no parent in sight. They sounded almost exactly like Tay-Tay and me when we were small. I remember being a kid too vividly sometimes. There's part of me that still wants to go and play when there are a bunch of kids having a good time, even though I can't get away with leaping off the counters and playing stupid kid social games. They left to go do something more interesting somewhere else, but they were back in the laundry room when I went in to switch the clothes from the washer to the dryer. There were four of them, after all. The boy was actually possibly older than the girls, maybe nine. He was mostly staying out of their conversation, occupied as he was with playing a virulently pink keyboard (without benefit of headphones). The girls sat and chattered about topics of extreme deep interest as they perched on the row of washers.

[livejournal.com profile] hcolleen has finished the book. [livejournal.com profile] the_ass_ship.

I have a glass of Vile Purple Mixture. It's actually very tasty -- mixed berries, chocolate, and cold. I pulled out the blender last night, and I think I will be enjoying Experimental Beverages for a while again. This morning's version is made without alcohol.

The new TMBG album, The Else, is a nice solid effort. It's worth getting it now for the bonus disk. I especially liked "Upside Down Frown" and "Bee of the Bird of the Moth". There aren't any immediate must-listen-to-over-and-over earworms/super-hits, but I get the idea that it will grow on me. "Climbing the Walls" is old-school TMBG, and should be combined with "Minimum Wage", "Someone Keeps Moving My Chair", "Don't Go Back to Rockville", and "Code Monkey" in an IHTFP playlist for work. (And on the bonus disk? "Sketchy Galore" is such a Strongbad song. "We Live in a Dump" is one of my new theme songs, if only for the line about friends.)
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (best friends forever)
I aspire to be Ms. Universe when I grow up. Not Mrs. Universe, because that would be kinda creepy, almost Stepfordesque, but more like Mr. Universe. Except for the ending.
Octopus would have been freaky without the 1337 haxx0r thing going on.
Reavers = ew.
Darkside = sweet.
River + ceiling = OTP

Darkside's mother is warm and caring and sweet, and Just Does Not Get some aspects of Geek Social Time. Darkside popped into his room and grabbed Vol 1. of Journey to the West and resumed reading. She warmly, lovingly, and caringly scolded him about Ignoring His Guest, and being Just Like His Dad. In strict point of fact, His Guest had been warmed by the sight of him breaking out a good book, and had actually been contemplating going out to her car and retrieving Her Book, then curling back up on the couch with American Gods and spending a leisurely remainder of the afternoon in companionable silence without the goddamnnoisybox interfering.

Strawberries = good. I now know what I want to use to bribe him with. I am a part-time cleric of Aphrodite -- but all I could think about was the juicy strawberries and the fact that I was sharing them with him. We were having a Moment. That's probably sufficient right there. I didn't even think about attempting to eat the strawberries suggestively. It was just Us. Us and the strawberries. There's a photo of me at my first birthday with a strawberry cake that turned into a royal mess. 25 years later, strawberries and gooey creamy dip-stuff were just the perfect thing. I successfully resisted Cake (left over from yesterday's epic graduation party for Darkside's friend). Given a choice between leftover chocolate cake and sharing strawberries with Darkside? Strawberries win.

After I wake up on Monday? Bookstore time, so I can tell Darkside what he got me. ;)



I woke up to random birthday messages on LJ. I signed in to IRC, and there was a mini birthday party there. Then [livejournal.com profile] swallowtayle called to wish me a happy birthday. After that, I wandered over to work, bearing veggies and chips for the planned potluck in honor of Grandma Cinderella's birthday. I was the only one who remembered that it was happening... Work did wish me a happy birthday, though. Then I went over to see Darkside, since our communications about the date had been left at "I'm not sure -- I have $EVENT Friday, and then $RELATED_EVENT Saturday... we'll see?" He and I had left at about the same time; when his mom called him, he was a quarter mile away from my doorstep. Much hilarity was had; he turned around and came back, and I hung out. Mama called a bit later, and then V. Much fun was had overall.

I left Darkside's at a reasonable hour, then wound up calling Shawn after I refueled and started with the drive home. Much fun there too. Then stopped in to see [livejournal.com profile] trystan_laryssa and [livejournal.com profile] dustraven. Wound up going over and saying hi to Loren, as that's where D was. Kitty hijinks! Then, back to their apartment, and cookie puffs and then Princess Princess. Crack indeed! And so sparkly!

Oh, yes, a good birthday.
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (best friends forever)
The phrase "the happy relationship side of the table" has worked its way into my mental sorting of things and my day-to-day status. And while it seems to be Happy, today, it's not feeling dreadfully much like Relationship. It's more like -- we're both living our lives, and I'm holding out my hand for him and he's not quite grasping my hand in return, but he is letting me cling to his wrist. We're not Dating, but we are sort of Together.

The up-and-down freakout in the friendship-thing, the part where his really laconic and not-much communications skills have me freaking the hell out on a regular basis? Not so much his fault. I recognize that he has really lousy geekboy communication skills, and I bear the burden of communicating. I have demonstrated on several occasions that while this is not ideal, it is generally OK, and I can deal with it. What happens when it goes wrong is not that his communication skills have loused up, but, in fact, that I am having a really unstable episode, and probably need to momentarily up my dosage of St. John's Wort, put down the caffeine, take a nice long warm bath with a good book, and go to bed early. (Or, if it's too late to go to bed early, just go to bed.)

I realized that it was My Thing, not His Thing, one night when I was writing out a rather hysterical "OMG YOU DON'T REALLY LIKE ME AS A FRIEND DO YOU OMG PLEASE WRITE BACK TO TELL ME YOU DO LIKE ME AS A FRIEND BECAUSE IF YOU DON'T LIKE ME I CAN JUST GO OVER THERE AND SOB AND NEVER SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN" e-mail, and decided against sending it because I knew that I have the capability of being very cutting and cruel with my words, and I was going for effective writing, not hurtful writing. I decided to sleep on it and see if it looked OK in the morning.

It did not look OK in the morning. In the morning, it looked as though I had been having a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Night. I got used to dealing with things like this with complaining about household chores. I was not used to the idea of me acting all crazy in the relationship. I made it stop.
azurelunatic: Cartoon Azz with messy blue hair in a bun, without their glasses, in a nightgown. (Azzsleep)
Now I'm trying to figure out which of the actors in The 40 Year Old Virgin looks like Mr. Shallow. He's the young one with the tattooed arms in the movie, but I haven't the foggiest what name goes with that character. But he so looks like Mr. Shallow. And that's totally hot.

Have been reading romance novels lately. Eeeuuuurgh? Some are decent. Some are very bad. If I do publish there, I doubt Darkside would read me even out of a sense of duty.

V returns on Tuesday.

At dinner tonight, someone indicated that I was sitting on the Has Relationship side of the table. Which was very weird. I don't technically consider myself In A Relationship as far as all crucial parts of relationships like hugs and kisses and any attempt to stay together goes. I do consider myself taken as far as being available to new relationship prospects goes. It's a very weird limbo, very much like the one I found myself in back in high school. That one had a lot more emotional anguish and a lot less personal satisfaction. This one is a comfort zone and a warm, mutually agreeable, trusting friendship. But does it count as a relationship? It brings me some of the same satisfaction of one, because I love openly and happily, and I know that I am cared for deeply. But one of the things where I know it's a relationship is where I can spend significant physical time, when there is physical time, curled up next to, being petted, and wrapped securely in their arms. It's very much not a relationship. Sorry. Curled up next to is iffy. The rest are generally right out.

My own personal creativity has bottomed out because of all the creative effort I have to expend at work. Price paid for job that takes hard-work-creativity time? Less to spend as wished on personal projects.

I seem to have become the Neighborhood Muse for a bit here. First the hisssstorical thing. Then Shawn calling me in a tizzy because he's stuck and needs a muse-moment. Then the other thing that Dawn was talking about. Goodness.

I'm having Sunday off. I need Sunday off.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Seen it all over: help get a Planned Parenthood on the rez in SD! http://community.livejournal.com/be_bold/212948.html (this isn't the original; the original's in someone's personal journal somewhere.)

[livejournal.com profile] divalion: No More Mr. Nice Guy
(with supplemental http://www.heartless-bitches.com/rants/niceguys/ng.shtml re-pointed-out by [livejournal.com profile] elorie)


And my take...

Read more... )
azurelunatic: Rock in the sea, captioned "stationed forever on a far-distant rock" (Housewife's Lament)
I was supposed to have gone to bed an hour and a half ago. I've been running on not enough sleep.

Instead, I got started adding household tasks to my electronic calendar. I used this before with some success, until the household schedule fell apart, and so did the palmtop's screen.

I'm hoping this will work to keep me at least semi-motivated to keep house a little better. What I want is an efficient system that I run without really even thinking about it, because rote tasks are best done on automatic for me. It's gotten so that I have to actively resist taking a shower at night to go to bed without showering, because it's just what I do. Take off the clothes, and before putting on the nightgown, take a shower. (I am capable of going without showering while depressed. It's far best to have it become automatic so it takes more energy than I have while depressed to resist.)

With any luck, I'll be able to make housework automatic.

The end goal of all this is naturally to have a clean and tidy apartment, but also to have the apartment in a state where I know that it'll only take a few moments (well, fifteen minutes of whirlwind pickup) to have the place in a state where I'd feel comfortable about at least Lady Malfoy giving it a look over, if not Malfoy Senior.

... why yes, I feel like I'm preparing for a job interview, a little. I don't think they're going to stop by any time soon, but I'd be far more comfortable with them and with myself if I could invite them in for a cup of tea with a clear housekeeping conscience. I want to establish that I can too take good care of their son if he moved in with me, and I want to make that care automatic.
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (best friends forever)
Darkside is allergic to dating. I would say that he's allergic to love, but he loves his family just fine. He had a bad dating experience in the past, and, from all appearances, he seems unwilling to repeat the very risky experiment.

I used to say "I love you" to him a lot. Then I eventually wised up as to exactly how much that was bothering him. I switched over to "Buffer error," because "I love you" was still the first thing that wanted to come out my mouth, but it made him uncomfortable, so I couldn't say it, but if I didn't say it, all the things behind it that I meant to say would be unsaid. But "Buffer error" meant "I love you but I can't say it because it makes you uncomfortable but I love you anyway," so I said that. And he understood.

Now I don't say either of those. Not to him. He's heard them before, but somehow he's missed out on the nuances of what love, from me, really means. So I find other ways.

In one of the [livejournal.com profile] lightning_war fic-bits, [livejournal.com profile] jus_ad_bellum talks about marriage. "I don't think people marry each other in front of an altar once and for all; I think they do it every day."

Little by little, I choose Darkside, and I continue to choose him, and I continue to find the words to illustrate to him what it means when I love him.

He apologized for talking to inanimate objects, more or less, tonight. This morning's e-mail's special encoding of I love you was: "I may not be an inanimate object, but I am more than happy to listen to whatever you have to say. Even if it's not to me."
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (best friends forever)
[livejournal.com profile] onyxrising went through a rather extreme change or two by abandoning all the former trappings of personality and moving out of state. I did something reasonably similar, though perhaps not as extreme. (People who have known me since forever still recognize me. I've known him since 2000-ish, and there's a lot that's the same about him at the core, though the mannerisms may have jumped around a lot.)

[livejournal.com profile] pyrogenic, among others. This was the cue for some serious "Hello, it's adolescence!" personal changes, not the least of which involved my high school best friend That Idiot Shawn. My body chemistry was already a loaded gun: depression, nasty, had waved and said hello in 1994. After 1997, my personal timeline gets a lot vague, and it's a struggle to track down dates. But I graduated high school in May, 1998. I spent a carefree summer hanging out with Shawn. I went into college in the fall of 1998. Shawn met his eventual ex-wife that winter, and they were engaged in the early bits of 1999. To say that I went "ballistic" would be kind. Imagine an 18-year-old girl doing her best to emulate Aral Vorkosigan after his first wife's death, except without the alcohol. (Alcohol probably would have sedated me most effectively, which would have been a good thing.) In July of 1999, I got a job where BJ worked. In August of 1999, Shawn got married. I spent the fall and winter alternately playing fun and happy depressive-in-energetic-mode games and being relieved that I was done with the whole affair. I hung out with BJ a lot, and if I hadn't been so determined we weren't dating, we probably would have been dating. On March 15, 2000, I got together with BJ. We were engaged immediately, though we held off on announcing this until April 1st, 2001. In May of 2000, we moved in together. Shortly thereafter, BJ decided that he was going off to college in Arizona come fall. In September of 2000, I quit my job and we moved to Phoenix at the end of October 2000, just in time for the start of the Fall 2000 tri at DeVry. Hello, Sis. Hello, that shaggy guy who was reading Scott Cunningham's Wicca for the Solitary Practitioner far too early in the morning in the cafeteria.

By that timeline, prior to moving to Arizona, the last baseline instance of happy/healthy Lunatic was June-August 1995, at CTY. Summer 1997 was decent, the school year of 1997-1998 was decent but odd, and summer 1998 was decent but scary. I don't count those so much as healthy times because they were in the near-direct influence of Shawn, who is actively bad for me in large doses. (The best dose of Shawn for me is often nearly homeopathic in size.)

By the time I got to Arizona, I very much didn't like myself. I was unwarrantably cranky, hostile, violent, obnoxious, resentful, depressive, passive-aggressive, and agreed 100% with those nasty little "Husbands suck because ________" / "can't live with 'em, can't get away with shooting them" / "I hate men enough to be a lesbian if only I didn't like cock" forwarded e-mails. (People like [livejournal.com profile] tygerr were not hated because they were enough not like "men" to be practically honorary women. And River. And ... you see how these things work, yeah?)

My home life was not good. Smoking roommates are not good for the girl with lung problems and allergies. I felt that I was in a religiously hostile environment, because my then-fiance was a pontificating ass and the Elder Roommate was just plain clueless, and I wasn't in a position to attempt to educate someone ten years my senior who had a smarter-than-thou attitude to boot.

I was a mess.
Hello, Darkside.

In none-too-short order, I picked up the idea that this guy was a good friend to have. As we spent more time together, I discovered that above and beyond me chilling out and being happy around friends, I was pulling my usual stunt of turning chameleon: I was being a person he could be friends with while I was around him.

Ordinarily, my chameleon abilities give me distinct pause. I don't always want to be the kind of person who should be friends with the kind of people I'm spending time with, if I'm spending time with shady or seedy people, witness the effects on me around Shawn. But. "The only way out is up." I ordinarily didn't like myself at all. I would have avoided myself if I'd ever met my exact clone with a duplicate of my personality. But I liked myself around Darkside. The feeling was novel. I embraced it. "Last time your heart broke, it didn't heal straight. So I'm breaking it again."

I couldn't be around him 24/7, as much as I would have wanted to. I decided that I had to start changing my personality, to consciously be that same person all the time, no matter what, instead of just in his company. So I commenced. Little by little, I changed. He helped me and guided me, pointed out when I was making changes that were damaging me, and observed with pleasure the process of me growing a mind of my own and the spine to go with it.

He could have guided me into becoming his shadow, as I'd become Shawn's, as I'd become BJ's. And he may well have. But what he desired in a shadow was a strong, independent woman. There are not many to whom I'd throw over all authority to make decisions for me. He's taken the authority over me that I gave to him, and handed it right back to me, to do with myself as I Will.
azurelunatic: Dying Spock saluting Kirk through heavy glass.  (spock)
My sleep schedule is a joke. If I try to go to bed before midnight, I wake up at midnight. That's what happened. I was exhausted on Sunday, so I took that "nap", and then now I'm awake; I won't have much of a Monday left by the time I get some more sleep and wake up again.

While I was awake, I did bounce some things off John. The constant underlying frustration of the social aspects of the friendship with Darkside reached an abrupt boil as of 2 seconds after his mom told me he wouldn't be expected home until after 9. I have faith that this, as always, is something that needs screaming out between the two of us, and goodness knows that since he is his own man and not an extension of me, he'll probably have a far different perspective on it that will knock me sideways and completely out of my egocentric rut, but still as we've not really talked this one out lately, I'm still somewhere between pissy, furious, irate, and living in hope when it hurts to hope.

(No one said love cured all problems. Whole new can of worms. But goodness knows that without this friendship, I'd be in a far worse place. Could be I wouldn't even be in a place, if the Catholic Limbo actually exists.... So I take what comes up in stride, because, well, I'm alive and I'm reasonably happy, and I love him very much. But I still get fucking frustrated.)

I have a nice long soul-baring rant typed out to deliver to him, but I'm waiting on sleep and sanity to actually send it, because it would be just stupid to e-mail out something like that without benefit of a cold quiet sane eye of proofreading and general sanity-smackitude.

Ned and Priscilla are giving me courage to get things said; Priscilla and Luna, and Edward and Lavinia, are giving me general hope. Reading RP is good for the soul.
azurelunatic: Cordless phone showing a heart.  (phone)
You have to chase a Mulder. To rescue, to get his attention. It's a bold, dramatic saga. A Darkside is subtle.
azurelunatic: Cordless phone showing a heart.  (phone)
He has no social calendar. Thus, he cannot put me on it. ... My inner paranoid is peeved.
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
I finally learned the crucial bits about Darkside's schedule these days: when he wakes up, and when he gets out the door in the mornings. He and I don't have many hours of simultaneous wakefulness, and even less simultaneous sleep. (And it says a lot about my attachment to him that I'd re-work my sleep schedule for him should it become an issue. Body-things don't change easily.)

He and I really do need some overlapping days off. We need regular time together, drat it. Neither of us is getting any younger.

I am Geek in that I count time curled up next to him while he's blowing off random stress on random video games as Quality Us Time. It's nice quiet time together, isn't it? Not much different than both reading together, and that used to be one of the highlights of my mornings.

There are a couple words I'm fighting not to say. It's not like I have overt encouragement or anything. I just have the cryptic actions of some family members, the little things that aren't said, and an utter disinclination in any other directions. But if it comes down to that, if I'm dared to put my future where my mouth is ... it's nearly been a year, after all. And anger and angst and impatience do stupid things. But a crazy plural bisexual mono/poly girl knows that the only way to tell truth from wishful thinking is to see what repeats. This -- this will be five years in January. Most of the crazy's fallen off, now. Fine wines, good cheeses, and the finest of cheesy romance are all aged this way, patience stretched past the breaking point, patched and spun and stapled back together with an ancient red stapler and pasted together with rubber cement and hope.

Now is not the time for anything other than patience. And I have patience.
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (best friends forever)
It's amazing how tender a love letter one can write without ever using the word "love". It's amazing the passion that fits into a letter that doesn't even obliquely refer to sex. There are truths that want to be whispered by moonlight or over an echoing phone line, cried aloud by daylight, shouted from the gallery into a seat of government. And these are the truths I tell him, time and again, until he knows the touch of my heart as he knows the touch of my hand.
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (best friends forever)
[livejournal.com profile] figment0 had me think about where "home" was for me, a while back. It wasn't this apartment. It wasn't [livejournal.com profile] templeravenmoon. It wasn't my parents' house back in Alaska. I discovered, digging through my head, that I had last felt completely at home when I was curled up next to Darkside while he played silly Jedi video games. My head was tucked up against him, so the hair on his arm tickled my face. We talked about nothing, he hacked and slashed his way around a big spaceship, and I dangled a green glowstick from my fingers.

I called today, my usual weekend chat. He was busy typing away on something, so we did something much the same on the phone. It had nearly the same effect. Even though his attention was elsewhere, he was taking the time to be present with me, and I could half-feel the half-hug.

15 minutes. Not much in the way of coherent anything; I was still too exhausted from work, and he was preoccupied and busy with something else himself.

But it's these little moments that get me through my week, through my life. I'm hoping that my taking out the time to spend with him and to make sure he's doing all right are making him feel as cared-about as I feel when he takes the time for me. I'd like to say that I'd be absolutely lost without him, but I know I could cope. I have, before. I clearly will, at some point. But he magnifies my joy and diminishes my sorrow. I would not be half as happy. I would not be the same woman.

I like the self I am around him better than I like the self I am the rest of the time, because I like myself better when I'm contented, brilliant, relaxed, and dazzlingly happy. Every now and then he'll talk about himself, and I am given to suspect that he too becomes sweeter and deeper in my presence.

With him, I can be silent. This is a treasure greater than words.

Love...

3/6/05 04:14
azurelunatic: A glittery black pin badge with a blue holographic star in the middle. (Default)
Love is where you don't send him back his e-mail, edited full of red-fonted corrections on spelling and grammar.

I love this man dearly, madly, exuberantly.
azurelunatic: Azz and best friend grabbing each other's noses.  (best friends forever)
People envy my connection with Darkside.

Things like that, though, take a lot of work.

For the better part of two years, he and I spent ten or more hours a week together. That adds up after a while. He's rarely seen me at my best. I've rarely seen him at his best. We've seen each other sleep-depped and grumpy in the morning, and we've watched each other wake up, we've shared the caffiene, I've given him leftover pizza...

He's seen me heartbroken and crying. He's seen me the morning after dealing with demon kitties from hell. He's seen me in the glow of NRE. He's seen me fall asleep face-down on the table. He's seen me traumatized from a phone-sex moron at the job that didn't work out. I've come to school three hours early, operating on sleep-dep, to spend time with him. He's bitched me out for not getting enough sleep. He's settled me down on the couches in the TV pit to nap, and sat by me and stroked my hair when he thought I was asleep.

I've seen him worried, I've seen him angry, I've seen him sad... I've seen him stressed. I've helped him study. I've distracted him from studying. We've read together, we've planned RPGs together... we've been silent together.

Random passersby in the cafeteria have seen us sparring. Usually it looks like someone's about to die. We've said that if we'd been trying to kill each other, one or both of us would be seriously dead or hurt. Simultaneously.

I know what he thinks he can't do. I know some of the things he knows he can do. I know what he can do that he thinks he can't. I know how to tell when he's afraid and trying not to show it.

He knows me, and I know him. And we care about each other. So of course we have a connection that most would envy. It's not easy, but with us, there's no other choice. We are together.
azurelunatic: Cartoon woman with wild blue hair, glasses, black lipstick, and very small smile.  (Azzcalm)
Everyone who didn't see this coming, raise your hands.

Yakky and I broke up. Still friends.

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Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺

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