105
You are at your peak fertility. I’ve already cum inside of you twice today. We are working on projects together in bed, getting shit done, while my sperm is trying to find its way into your egg. Discussion of a third fuck is in the air.
103
Something I’ve told you, but haven’t said enough: “You’re really good at designing stuff on Canva.” No seriously. It’s kind of freaky how good you are at it. Like, I’m impressed, but also concerned you sold your soul to the devil for mad Canva skills.
101
Another way we are completely insane. We got the idea to do a reading/performance around Valentines Day and you said, “Llet’s secure the venue and reach out to the readers,” and like an hour later, we’d somehow we accidentally built a website and launched a reading series and decided it’s also a literary magazine, and now we are doing this huge fucking thing and everything looks really fucking good, and I’m excited and incredibly proud. Anything we do together is 100% magic.
99
In two days it’s going to be a new year. Plans for 2025: get married, buy a house, make a baby, have a baby, publish a shit ton of stories/essay, get books accepted for publication, get famous, become millionaires, fuck 365 times, travel, make music, make art, get fit as hell. Maybe I’m completely out of my mind, but these things all seem totally reasonable to me.
97
You made flyers for my book tour and one of my events and they’re so good and so sexy. Almost everything I post on Blood Oath Daily is some version of “I won the lottery when I met you” but like… seriously. I won the lottery when I met you.
95
You have survived the holidays with my family. We went over there at 4pm but we didn’t eat dinner until Jesus knows when. 8pm? 9pm? 10? Who doesn’t eat Christmas dinner until 10pm? We started texting each other things like, “What the fuck is happening?” and “I’m so hungry, I think I’m dying,” and “But seriously, when are we going to eat?” and I know that it is a small amount of torture, but they’re my family and I love them and I love that you make it fun, even if we both died on Christmas Night, Rest In Peace.
93
It’s my birthday. For weeks, you’ve been asking me, “What do you want?” And I didn’t know what to tell you because this is all I wanted—to wake up next to you, to fuck and eat breakfast, to realize we get to do this over and over for the rest of our lives.
91
You are going to take my last name when we get married. I can’t describe how much that turns me on. We are anti-capitalist, anti-patriarchy, non-conformist artists and writers, but there’s some secret part of me that is traditional in a hopefully not creepy way that can’t wait to hear you say your first name with my last name and it’s not a joke.
89
Life in Portland is dark and wet. December is depressing as fuck, except that at some point every day, I leave you and Bobbie and Wiggy for a few hours and when we are reunited, we meet on the street and Bobbie is so happy to see me she starts yanking on her leash, pulling you forward, and I run up to her and hug her and kiss her and then I look up and you’re just as excited to see me as she is and that is the best feeling I’ve ever felt in my life.
87
Something happened in Costa Rica we haven’t talked about here on Blood Oath Daily. The incident has come to be known as “Poo Juice” or “Poo Joo.” Let’s just say, we were haunted by a smell. More than a smell… a sinister presence. We blamed everyone, but ourselves. There was talk of stripping down and examining each other’s butts. Instead, we left a pair of shoes behind in Costa Rica, and vowed never to speak of it again, except we keep saying, “Poo Joo” and you start laughing so hard you say, “Wait! Stop! I’m going to pee!”