Can't Get You Out of My Head
God, help me.
Almost 45, middle-aged, practically born again virgin obsessed with Nicholas Chavez fan edits on TikTok. I’m exactly 20 years older than him, but what can I say, he’s a man. The first sexy alpha man we’ve seen in a long time, that isn’t tatted or some self-help podcaster.
Two things I haven’t thought about in like 30 years. The Menendez brothers and Milli Vanilli. Both of which are having a comeback, a moment. The Menendez brothers may be getting out of prison, and I just found out after all this time that Fab Morvan from Milli Vanilli can actually sing. Things are strange in 2024.
The north node is changing to Picses in 2025 so expect even more hurricanes and flooding. The planets are in the same alignment as when the Civil War started. The Fourth Turning is playing out as predicted as we head towards the end of the year. Gen Z is obsessed with the throwback “Dirty Cash (Money Talks)” and early 90s rave.
I can’t decide if I like the Monsters edit of Nick Chavez or the Grotesquerie edit more. Something that I have known about myself, yet have been scared to admit, is that I have a thing for hot priests. I have never in my life met a hot priest, and do not know if they exist in the real world. The fetish started when Samantha on Sex and the City tried to seduce an extremely good-looking priest, unsuccessfully. Something I probably would have done when I was younger if I had come across one. I was very, very flirtatious.
I tried to role play once with an ex where he was supposed to be a priest and maybe I was a horny nun? Or maybe I was a widow going to confession…I can’t remember. My ex was extremely offended by my priest fantasy, looking at me like I was crazy. Despite my family’s complicated Catholic background, I didn’t think it was a big deal. His parents were semi-religious, but he wasn’t particularly, and what’s hotter than seducing a holy man that is forbidden from having sex?
My fetish was confirmed when I watched Fleabag—having a forbidden fling with a priest is hot…duh. And now there’s Grotesquerie, where the hot priest is doing the seducing, and I’m sorry, no red-blooded woman would be able to turn down a shirtless Nick Chavez as tortured priest with a six-pack—send me to hell, and pray for my salvation, because I would be unable to restrain my sinful desires.
My body is turning on me. Something is changing inside of me and I have no control. I am of that age where things start to transition. I wake up feeling like I’ve been hit by a train. Too tired to hike, or walk, or use the stair stepper I bought on TikTok to lift and tighten my ass.
I bought gummies that are supposed to help with the “transition”. I also have terrible brain fog, in which I bought Lion’s Mane mushroom powder for focus. I ordered pre-made smoothies online, and pre-made healthy dinners because grocery shopping and cooking are taking too much time in my very busy life as a single perimenopausal, self-published writer, cat lady, landlord, homeowner, copywriter.
The brain fog is interrupting the publishing of Synth Noir. I’ve turned to God for help. I can’t do this on my own. I’m nearly at the end of what I’ve been dreaming of for 12 years, and “marketing” and “proofing” and “planning” make me want to take a long, extended nap. But I must power through. I must trust the process. God, give me strength. God, give me relief from Nick Chavez fan edits and the focus I need to accomplish my mission here on earth.
I can relate, although I'd go for the sexy nun, not the priest (I don't think either exist), as well as with the aging. Getting out of bed is more difficult, starting with a slight limp to the coffee pot, but then it goes away and I can walk normally. There's also the graying hair, the pains out of nowhere, and yes, the brain fog. Maybe you've inspired me to write my own blog about this. Anyway, looking forward to Synth Noir in print, keep going!