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The one I love. She came into my life through a combination of serendipity, stupidity and salaciousness, and I hope she's here to stay. Calm to my storm, fuel to my fire, prepared to kick the shit out of me or just hold me and make things better. She's responsible for dragging me into a bad soap-opera set of familial and friendly relationships, complicating my life thoroughly and generally giving me the kick up the arse that I so desperately need.
Probably responsible for this set of pages, Anathema is a good friend. We met on-line, and I was delighted to discover that in real life, she's someone who feels comfortable to cuddle. She's inspired me, amused me, and concerned me, often at the same time. She's aroused me as well. She runs her own site which contains far better, more interesting writing than you'll ever find here.
United by a love of the quirky comic strip, Goats, the Goats-Fans have very little else in common. Bisexual polyamorous fetishists mix with right-wing prudes, beer is drunk, and we all live in an incestuous, voyeuristic memepool, happy to expose our lives in front of hundreds of strangers and friends.
London's party-hard goth crew, purveyors of beer, sex, and good clean fun. They regularly throw large quantities of e-mail into my account, giving me something to do all day at work, and in return I go to London and go to pubs, clubs and other wierdness with them.
The first girl I ever fell in love with. We were different, but it was good when it lasted. Eventually, our differences split us, and I was left broken-hearted while she walked away without looking back. We've tried being friends, but things with The Bastard seem to be stopping us right now. Ho hum.
Once an amusing epithet, but now a well-earned description; once a friend, a confidant, a source of wit and advice, but now a true enemy, a purveyor of hurt and lies. If it weren't for my desire for friendship with the Scary Ex, I could very happily forget he exists, but he's being a thorn in my side which I'm dying to pluck. Once I'm strong enough to deal with the shit he's liable to throw at me if I make contact, I'll try talking to him. Maybe we could be friends again. First, the scars on my back will have to heal somewhat.