So, I’m not going to lie to you. I’m in love with another man. His name is Sam Heughan. He plays Jamie in the Starz series, Outlander. Have any of you been watching? Or, prior to the series, have any of you read the series by Diana Gabaldon?
In a nutshell, a world war 2 nurse, Claire Randall, gets reacquainted with her husband, Frank, in a boarding house in England. To pass the time while he works, she falls through some Stone Henge-esque stones and lands in 1748 Scotland during the clash between the Scots and the English. A clan takes her in for her own protection. Soon they realize she has lots of medicinal powers. Is she a witch? An English spy? They don’t know.
But, to keep her safe – and since the lass is useful – they marry her off to a hot highlander to keep her out of the arms of a nasty lieutenant who finds rape, flogging and smacking the crap out men, women and children to be all in a day’s fun. The highlander she is betrothed to is none other than an outlaw – Jamie Fraser – who is six foot four, sassy and manly as the day is long.
The problem for her is that while she must accept the reality she is in now, she misses her old one also. And yet, after consummating her marriage to Jamie, she finds that despite less than perfect circumstances, she just might be able to adjust to her new life.
Clearly there is only one answer to my tic conundrum this month: To get over my grief of what was a nice, quiet run sans tics, I must simply be engage in sex with a man who makes love with “unflagging joy” and speaks to me in an accent that can make “we need toilet paper” sound like “Your body is a temple of Yuban goodness.” Yes, that would make it all better, do you not agree?
Until tomorrow, may God grant you the serenity to accept the tics you cannot change, change the tics you can, and have the wisdom to know the difference.