Sherry McGavin and the Sixth Reich
He (Sieg) Hailed From Kentucky
I was seventeen when I found my first love. I was seventeen, he was God knows how old and we met in the parking lot of a Pottery Barn. Why either one of us was at Pottery Barn to this day remains a mystery. After making sweet, passionate love we stuck up a convenience store, curb stomped a black cashier and feasted on sour hard candies, ninety nine cent taquitos and thirty six ounces of carbonated beverage before making sweet, passionate love once more.
I’ve come to refer to him as My Incredibly Good Looking White Supremacist Boyfriend From Kentucky. It really does fit him...such a well put together young or old or middle aged man. He was five inches taller than me, three pounds lighter, had dirty blonde hair, pinkish eyes and a suspected addiction to methamphetamine, but who was I to judge?
It’s funny that I can’t remember the name of my first love. Maybe I never learned it but I doubt that’s the case since we dated a decent while. Maybe my memory’s gone a bit hazy but I doubt that even more, considering memory loss is a frequent side affect of aging.
I owe him a lot, not just for the good times and the amazing sex but because if it hadn’t been for him I wouldn’t be sitting in this plush office and typing on a six thousand dollar computer.
You see, My Incredibly Good Looking White Supremacist Boyfriend From Kentucky was an active member of the Klu Klux Klan.
Once we had dated for a while and he felt comfortable enough to introduce me to his brethren, we went to a summer barbeque.
I had a wonderful time and immediately fell in love with the world he had exposed me to, but because I didn’t have the superior genitalia I knew that I could never be of the same importance to them as he was, so I found other ways to make myself useful.
I wrote informational pamphlets and handed them out to unaccepted school children desperately longing to belong to something bigger and alcoholics who simply weren't in the place to be making good decisions. Thanks to my outstanding powers of persuasion, membership applications started pouring in.
I realized then two things about myself. One: feeling needed was incredibly erotic and two: imposing my beliefs could one day earn me a living.
My relationship with My Incredibly Good Looking White Supremacist Boyfriend From Kentucky eventually ended and without a noble cause to write for, I lost the majority of my inspiration. Luckily, approximately twenty years later the tragic and oh so sudden criminal conviction of my husband Greg left me hopeless and seeking purpose, leading me to enter the wonderful world of literature once more.
I’ve come to refer to him as My Incredibly Good Looking White Supremacist Boyfriend From Kentucky. It really does fit him...such a well put together young or old or middle aged man. He was five inches taller than me, three pounds lighter, had dirty blonde hair, pinkish eyes and a suspected addiction to methamphetamine, but who was I to judge?
It’s funny that I can’t remember the name of my first love. Maybe I never learned it but I doubt that’s the case since we dated a decent while. Maybe my memory’s gone a bit hazy but I doubt that even more, considering memory loss is a frequent side affect of aging.
I owe him a lot, not just for the good times and the amazing sex but because if it hadn’t been for him I wouldn’t be sitting in this plush office and typing on a six thousand dollar computer.
You see, My Incredibly Good Looking White Supremacist Boyfriend From Kentucky was an active member of the Klu Klux Klan.
Once we had dated for a while and he felt comfortable enough to introduce me to his brethren, we went to a summer barbeque.
I had a wonderful time and immediately fell in love with the world he had exposed me to, but because I didn’t have the superior genitalia I knew that I could never be of the same importance to them as he was, so I found other ways to make myself useful.
I wrote informational pamphlets and handed them out to unaccepted school children desperately longing to belong to something bigger and alcoholics who simply weren't in the place to be making good decisions. Thanks to my outstanding powers of persuasion, membership applications started pouring in.
I realized then two things about myself. One: feeling needed was incredibly erotic and two: imposing my beliefs could one day earn me a living.
My relationship with My Incredibly Good Looking White Supremacist Boyfriend From Kentucky eventually ended and without a noble cause to write for, I lost the majority of my inspiration. Luckily, approximately twenty years later the tragic and oh so sudden criminal conviction of my husband Greg left me hopeless and seeking purpose, leading me to enter the wonderful world of literature once more.