I woke up in her bed, which was one of those fold-out beds hidden in a couch. I woke up with my arm still around her naked, tattooed body. My arm felt fine, strangely enough. In such a position, I expect my arm to fall asleep before I do. It was still pretty cold in the room, but the blankets were still very warm. I just really liked the feeling of waking up next to somebody again.

And we talked about some Pagan and occult subjects, as we had been doing since our first few email correspondences. I knew she could perform legally-binding marriage ceremonies, and I babbled about my friend C again. I've tried getting into the habit of not mentioning specific names with some people, because I usually find myself bringing up the same person over and over. Usually because the same topics come up with the same people, which remind you of the same things. Anyway, yawning and with my eyes half-opened, I mentioned how I was the best man at his Pagan handfasting wedding in that town, my best friend that I've known for over a decade. "Oh," she said with the tone of an intriguied but not overly-excited revelation. "Would he happen to have a wife named N?" "Yeah, that's what I just said, C and N's wedding." But she did in fact know them. "Hmm! It's a small world," she said.

I respected her choice not to mention the full details of how she new C&N, but it certainly got me wondering. I knew C&N were swingers, but she was much more than a previous playmate of theirs. She did say that N probably didn't want to speak with her again. But to throw her 2 cents in, she just "Just remember that there are 2 sides to each story". I was certainly willing to listen, and not just because she was giving me sex that weekend. I've been in situations before where 2 friends of mine had major issues going on between them that didn't directly involve me, and I didn't take sides nor act as referee.

As I said, I've been trying not to use specific names of friends all the time in all coversations. But it turned out that of the many stories we've been exchanging since we met, a couple of them were actually about the same people, C&N. Arguably, my best friends (I don't even view N as "C's wife", I honestly view her as "my friend" now). She essentially chalked it up to one of those young, dumb, and immoral moves. I know every person can look back and see at least one stupid thing he or she has done. But was this woman in my arms one of those characters from the relationship horror stories I've heard from C&N? One part of me wanted to jump out of bed, throw on my clothes, and drive away, for fear of danger. But I ended up changing the subject instead. At least for the time being.

We went out to get breakfast, and after we ordered I had to say "Look, I just have to be up front with you about something. You and I both know that I'll eventually be talking to C and N, and ask how they know you. And you have some idea of what kinds of stuff they're going say, and it won't be pretty. They are best friends of mine, but that doesn't mean I'm going to necessarily instantly take their word over yours. I know that whatever happened, it happened in the past and it didn't involve me directly." Upon her request, I ensured her that if I were to decide not to see her ever again because of such circumstances, I would at least let her know. I certainly know what it's like to be left hanging, and I know it's far worse than getting dumped.

She said her involvement with them was only about a month long, and about 5 years ago. I was feeling a little nervous. "Was this, uh...the summer of 1995, by any chance?" It was, and I remember saying she had been involved with some other people too. "I remember hearing about somebody named Gloria." She said that Gloria was actually her birth name.

Now I could type "Holy Shit!" or "Jesus Christ on a Fucking Crutch!" here, but those interjections aren't strong enough. She said "it's a small world" that morning in bed, and indeed it was. And not just because we simply happened to know the same people. No, it was a FRIGHTENINGLY small world.

THIS was Gloria? Impossible. The woman who randomly wrote to me from that site, who I'm dating? The lady I had been rolling around in bed with? This intellectual, responsible, understanding, low-maintenence woman, whose hand I was holding as we walked from the car to the restaurant we were at? This is the same lady whose real name is Gloria, and did all those ruthless things Nancy told me about? This was the same Gloria who, along with a few others, were the human parasites that moved in with them, manipulated them, put drugs in their drinks? The renegade Kali cult that almost sucessfully talked N into killing herself? That they had their whole apartment ritualistically clensed for? All while I was away at that summer term in college to change my major, or busy the month before with the band? The same woman that C was seduced by, slapped N over, and fell hysterically crying in N's lap over? This was same woman that was supposedly living her days with shaved head in a padded room in a mental institution? I was with the woman that directly caused the darkest, most twisted, painful personal life experience ever told by my two best friends?

Now wait a minute. Wait wait wait wait wait. This lady I was dating wasn't the same person they described. She didn't even identify with the same name anymore. It was certainly the same person, physically. Parts of her story did match up with what N had said. And she knew their last names before I mentioned them (including being taken to court by N on things that she said she never did), so she wasn't making this whole thing up.

So what now? Do I tell C and N? I can probably make them hit the fucking roof and turn the lightest shade of white by saying three simple words to them: "I'm dating Gloria". Their reaction would finally sum up to "Stay the fuck away from her." But again, this isn't the same person they were describing. In the meantime, I like hanging out with her, we used condoms for all the poking and screwing, she has a car, she has a job, and she even pays for her own dinner. There was no opportunity or the slightest effort to create such an opportunity to poison me or what not.

And at the risk of ending this entry with an anti-climax, the day did continue. I said goodbye to her, and made my way over to my fraternity house. I was in town, so I figured I'd drop in for the usual Sunday night house meetings. Much to my delighted surprise, it was a ritual meeting. A lot of people don't realize that underneath all the beer-drinking "Animal House" images of fraternities, there's a very serious, beatiful, ritualistic side. After all, it is a lodge, and all lodges have ritual. The idea of secret, "members-only" stuff is always exciting. Letting myself in the front door with my key, I saw all the young faces, and all the ritual props. Some of them remember me, that long-haired alumni.

I still remembered the passwords and ceremonial guestures. I love those meetings. I love ritual. I used to be the chapter's Sergent-At-Arms, the organizer of all things ritual related. I took tremendous pride in that job. It was my goal to make that near-invisible office much more active, get more ritual events going, and have more brothers know their stuff when it comes to that. And I succeeded. I see some signs of my success, even 5+ years after I had that office. I even coined the term "Sigma Rho workshop", which they still use. Looking around the room that night, I know I could honestly and fairly take some of the credit for what I saw. A brother who's name I didn't even know, said "Are you coming by for hell week? We really love that thing that you do every year." Damn straight, I'm gonna.