Perhaps not quite how I imagined my borthday party would go.

I was between titles for this post but I chose this one, because why not?

I don’t plan to make this post a long one either, though I fear it might be: I had other things that I planned to do with my birthday than spend the day at my desk!

But let’s get back to it.

The other day I took some time to research and understand this whole Star Trek “assimilation” thing of the Admiral’s, because to be honest, my knowledge of the Star Trek universe is quite limited. Growing up my brother had a friend, Paul, who was Star Trek mad — I remember him once darting out of my brother’s room to notify me that I was a doctor now, and knocking on my bedroom door to report to “sickbay”. I also remember him having a very rudimentary den in his grandmother’s back garden (she lived on our street) that he insisted was his USS Enterprise. 

Paul got banned from our house after he drew the Star Trek logo all over my father’s garage with a piece of coal from the barbeque. Our father was understandably livid and told the boys to wash it off, but it never did completely budge. 

So like I say, that was sort of Star Trek out of my life from then on. Dad was a Star Wars fan; I know far more about Star Wars than I did or had to know about Star Trek. Including how I wanted to assassinate my father every time he impersonated Jar Jar Binks, but anyway. 

But what of this “assimilation” thing? Maybe if I understood it, I’d understand the Admiral more too. 

Suffice to say the whole assimilation process is quite graphic, and I had to wonder about the thought processes of the people who might go around wanting to around “assimilating” people. I mean, sure, I put spells on people — I enchant them with my wicked ways — but hey, at least I don’t mutilate them!

But knowledge is power, and now that I understood this whole “assimilation” thing and where the Admiral was going with it, then it could become my power — my ultimate assimilation weapon. 

Oh no, he wasn’t going to assimilate me. I would assimilate him. 

And suffice to say, I would say that so far, his assimilation is going remarkably well 😉

I try not to think about it, of course. The ultimate defence to being assimilated, I’ve realised, is not to think about it. To not wonder how it might be to be assimilated yourself. 

Monday I found a package unceremoniously shoved through my letterbox.  I was a bit confused by it as I hadn’t ordered anything and my Amazon subscribe & save shopping isn’t due until next week. But okay, apparently I have mail. 

Inside was paintbrushes. 

Huh? I bought paintbrushes already.

Acrylic paints. 

Wha-? I got paints.

At the bottom of the bubble envelope was a card, I fished it out. On the front was a name: “Dave”. 

I laughed out loud. 

“Dave” was a stupid joke I made up as a warning to the Admiral about meeting and planning a future with internet strangers. It was supposed to be a warning to exercise caution and not readily believe people online are who they say they are. A lesson in staying safe. 

“I could be a sixty-year-old, axe-murdering trucker called Dave”, I said. I’m not, but the Admiral didn’t know that. Frankly nobody knows that, and that’s why it’s so important to be careful. 

The Admiral had written his code name — “Jasmine” — on the back of the envelope. 

Oh, so we’re really doing this? Fine.

Monday night and into Tuesday, the Admiral and I did something we haven’t done thus far: we swapped selfies. I always get anxious about sharing selfies because I am a thing of natural beauty — and real natural beauty, not the natural make-up look. 

Unruly hair, apron fat, acne scars, dark circles. I got it all.

I don’t want to say too much about it but suffice to say, I think the mutual attraction is there. I don’t think attraction is really going to be the issue; I think two respectful people wanting to respect one another (and others) and not make assumptions might be.

My birthday dinner was a success, save for the curry going watery, the rice cooking up dry and lumpy and Huxley being left out at my family’s request, prompting him to become a predictable little toe chomper at serving time. I keep insisting that he’s not safe when there’s food around but they never bloody listen.  

My Mum and brother left around 9PM, leaving Master Levi, Master’s friend, Lewis, and myself to talk for a few hours. I’d been looking forward to this talk with Lewis: he’s heard about me, my kinky identity and my work, but I wanted to be clear about who I really am and what I do. I’m not just some woman who tests and promotes sex toys all summer long — there’s a lot of writing and helping people in my work, too! 

A quick aside: apparently one of Master’s younger colleagues thinks I’m a “legend”. I was surprised by that as a legend is not something I generally ascribe to be, so I wanted to understand how she’d come to that conclusion. 

Apparently she thinks I spend all day having orgasms and doing precious little else. Again I laughed out loud.  

Suffice to say Lewis and I had a lovely conversation, and I think we understand one another better now. He sees me more as the writer and blogger I truly am, not the OnlyFans-type model I could be. 

But then talk turned to my ex-friend and Master & Lewis’s ex-girlfriend, Claire, and that was where things got really interesting. 

Master tried to warn Lewis away upon learning that his best friend was dating Claire, but Lewis, predictably, had his rose-tinted glasses on. 

Now he’s taken them off, and he finally sees Claire for who she really is. 

I feel bad for him, but it’s one of those times when we couldn’t protect him. Instead, we had to stand back and watch him learn for himself. 

Lewis says that he “regrets” their relationship, which I found to be quite a strong choice of words, but having spoken to other men who have been through similar break-ups — and obviously knowing Claire myself and the betrayal she put me through (girl code explicitly states you don’t date your friend’s known crush!) — I at least understand why a man could end up regretting dating a woman like Claire. Lewis openly told us that she was manipulative and had a string of suspicious “friends” on the sideline, he also said he was planning to dump her before she dumped him. I empathised with him completely: everything he told me about her behaviour matched the woman I knew to a tee.

I was fortunate enough in that I had a rolemodel for how not to perpetuate abuse: my father chose not to treat us the way his father treated him, and likewise, I vowed to myself that I would never treat my partner(s, ha!) or children the way my mother treated my father/me. Abuse is a choice; I choose not to abuse the ones I love. 

But alas, that doesn’t mean that I won’t wind them up 😉

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