Ed is on a tear, (rip, not water from the eye).

I am unusually busy.

I am avoiding him.

Feels like the days before my mother’s birthday, like before the blog.

Guilt rises each time I think of him…which is often because he is blowing up my phone.

I am spending a good deal of my Eddie time talking with his staff….planning out a parade….so it feels Iike I am giving him a great deal of time and energy…but, to him, I am not.  He doesn’t care if I am talking to his staff. He doesn’t even know about my grand parade idea; therefore, he hasn’t weighed in on it.  I haven’t spoken to him since last Saturday when my sister and I dropped him off a new razor.  (Sidebar, Ed told me it takes him forty minutes to shave with an electric razor…he does have a big head…but that is a long time.  Gives you some sort perspective on his disability.)

His tear…he wants high-speed internet access.  He only has dial-up now.  There is a reason he is so far behind the rest of the civilized world, though it is an outdated reason my sister and I continue to use.  Back in the old days if you paid your bill with a credit card the card number became accessible to you when you purchased.  My poor (and I think literally poor back then) sister got all these bills for internet porn.  So she found a little local company that will bill directly to her and sidestep the credit card thing.  Problem is, with the advent of high speed, a lot of the internet world is not accessible to Ed any longer.

My brother love to “chat.”

My brother is always looking for love…or at least a little cyber booty.

I never wanted to know about my brother’s, rather infamous, sex life before his accident.  Ed got around…and around…and around.  He was very good looking, had more money than most twenty-somethings, hung out with professional athletes, and lived in a very cool home a few blocks from the beach in Capitola.

If I didn’t want to think about my brother’s sex life before, I really don’t want to think about it now…now that he cannot have a nice, normal sex life.  (I am pretty sure that life he had before did not include descriptors like nice and normal.)  Jesus, these days what is nice and normal?

All I know is that Ed has little to offer a sex partner.  He was terribly frustrated for twenty years after his accident with almost zero ability to connect sexually with women.  The closest thing he had to a sexual relationship was a poster of a big boobed woman on his bedroom wall.

And then we got him a computer….and he has become a much nicer guy.  And I don’t really want to know the details, but he is able to communicate enough in the cyber world to get some of his needs met.

So, I say, thank God for the internet.

I better go make all the calls to get it going….and pray for Vickie’s credit card.

 

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