Whores, Bath Houses, Realtors and Conversation

I feel like a pimp sometimes. Before my soldier left we decided to put the farm up for sale hoping for a quick sale and then we could move on once he got back to a simpler life. We knew that he could be deployed at anytime once he got back so we didn’t want the stress of the farm and keeping it running to be on me if he was going to be away for long periods of time.

Two weeks ago, I had a showing of the farm. When I saw this 80 year old woman get out of her car I was praying like that little girl in Forest Gump – “Please God don’t let that be that woman who wants to buy this. Please God let her be the realtor.” Well a funny thing happened. The realtor turned out to be this great guy who happened to be gay as well. (Big surprise there - a gay realtor.) Anyway, it turns out that he and his partner may be interested in buying the farm for themselves.

So I cleaned the farm up all day to get ready for the showing. I preened, cleaned and scrubbed that house till all I could smell was bleach and cleaner. It smelled for a time like a really used bath house freshly scrubbed. All bleach and no bugs. I felt like I was getting my “whore” ready for a big night. All she had to do was put out and make it good for them.

Last night I had a small cocktail party for them so he could show his boyfriend the house. He loved it and I think everything went well. They were such a cute couple. My realtor man was in his 40’s and his boyfriend is in his 50’s and were engaging, sweet and didn’t have the prerequisite “gay drama” and pretention that follows most. We bonded I think and hope to hear from them again. I think me and my soldier could become good friends with them.

Speaking of my soldier – I got another letter from him. They are always so short. I wish he had sometime to really talk again. I think I miss that more than the sex at this point. It’s funny, but I know somewhat how refugees feel when they loose everything and food becomes dearer to them than anything else. They don’t want sex either. I think talking is a primal instinct and when we do less of it, it affects everything else. That’s why I think I had such a good time last night. It had been so long since I’ve had meaningful conversation. (And no my parents don’t count.)

I just hate being this emotional about someone. It goes against who I am as a person, or who I thought I was. Now I hear about Memorial Day activities and I start to tear up. If I see a soldier or see a commercial there it goes again. I know it sounds sappy but I just miss him so much it actually hurts. Does that feeling ever go away?