… I’m from a small town but am anything but small minded.

…. I’ve grown up a lot over the years but refuse to settle down or settle for less.

…. My world is full of inefficient and often the only consistency is irony.

…. I may be wanted in one or more counties and my lifestyle is illegal in more than a few states.

….I am the personal assistant to a tycoon by profession, a position that has afforded me the view from 50,000 feet while also providing me with thrashings my ego never thought possible.

…. I am of the opinion that one should play at least as hard as they work and I am a very hard worker.

… simply put – I am a lot of things.

In the interest of time, anonymity and the possibility of legal proceedings all names have been changed and this story is not valid in the Province of Quebec.

From a very young age I knew I was different. My nanny always told me I was special, but it wasn’t until high school when I realized how special and different I was aside from my peers. It was during this time of self exploration and coming of age where I met most of my friends. Friends who would quickly become my family, my support group, my non sexual life partners. Without this group of friends and our ups and downs I would not be the person I am today.

I have a dream. I have a philosophy. I have a plan.

Someday I will open and run a foundation. This foundation will support wayward females. Essentially providing warmth, guidance and someone to talk to for all women who have been scorned, left behind and or cheated on. This foundation will be called the Femmal Rehabilitation Foundation  (FRF). It will be funded in part by donations from alumni and blackmail schemes. It will have centers all over the world consisting of spas, bars, meditation rooms etc. It will be home for all those in need of a little push or assistance to get on their feet. In its inception the programs offered have been known already to have the “Good Luck Chuck” effect in providing clients the ability to get back on their feet, realize their worth and find their way.

In the mean time I bide my time. I do what I can for those I love. I try not to take on many strays as to not dilute the time I am able to spend with those under my wing already. We laugh, we cry we lament. We focus our energy on the positive which in most cases tends to mean “I will positively have another glass of wine, dirty cosmo and or.”

So as the story goes…. Now that I have myself laid out and mapped on above I will entertain you with exactly why I am a card carrying member of the banSHEe club.

Last weekend I turned 30 and at the risk off becoming something between my mother and the aunts I decided to bring together a large group of friends from all sorts of different walks of life. It didn’t go so well and I don’t recommend doing it. For my 31^st Birthday it will be dinner and drinks with several groups in a sectional like environment on different days spread over a week or so.  So in hopes of attaining enlightenment the following weekend I attended my friends 40^th birthday house party. ….  It was like going out one Friday night and having two Saturday’s. It will henceforth be known as the night 15 strangers met went on a road trip and never left the house. You see, my friend Penny is a burlesque superstar here in the city. In my mind she’s a pandora’s box of fun feathers and sparkley things. Her party did not disappoint. There were folks from all walks of life, queer, straight, stripper, councilmen, friend, foe. There was wine and food and some of the best blow. She had trays of goodies all over the house, everyone was welcome to partake as long as you did it off of someone. Needless to say prior to 10pm I had made out with two girls and three boys. Had seen a boys newly tattooed penis and had made friends with a tranny from the west end. By midnight I was trying on all Penny’s burlesque clothing and was hosting a semi private gathering in her closet. It was a time. By 4am I was in a cab enroute to my house with a 6’5” German bouncer who happened to whisper in my ear that he’d been with three guys in his heterosexual life and none of them had been able to get him off. I asked if it was a challenge – he called the taxi.

It wasn’t until 2pm the next day when we awoke from our hazy slumber that I realized he was born in 1985, was a ginger and had arrived at my house sans cash, phone and wallet.

Is it a sign of your age when you have to pay someone to leave your house?

Are their questions in this lifetime that are better left un answered?

As he staggered out of my bed he turned to me and said “This was casual right, your not going to go all stalker on me are you?”

I replied “I don’t recall asking you for your phone number.”

He has been in touch pretty much every day since. He wants to hang out, go out for dinner, go to the movies etc. I again replied, “I didn’t ask you for your phone number last weekend and I most certainly do not have time to entertain your mind beyond a 2am phone call from a taxi on your way to my house.”

Is it a sign of the times when a would be heterosexual gets caught in a weave of sexual deviance that is so exciting and foreign to him he continues to drop the plot in hopes of attaining the joy and pleasure he received that first time.

Chasing the dragon much?

… I drink ‘funny beer’ which makes me smile ear to ear and talk to everyone in the bar.

… I hit the dancefloor like there is no tomorrow.

… I travel and live in faraway places by myself. Because it’s exciting. To me.

… I open my heart and then say: On to the the next. Whether it’s my fault or theirs. (I am looking for The Big Love.)

… I steal people’s drinks as they stick out their drinks to cheers me.

… I am simply that girl.

Sometimes I have an out of body experience. I leave my body for a moment and float above the company at hand. I see what I am doing, I see what I am saying, and I try my hardest to stop it, but like a ghost, my shouting goes unheard, my hands are transparent and pass through my own real-life body, unnoticed. Perhaps all that is left behind is a shiver that may I mistake for chemistry with the person I am talking to. I am not the ghost whisperer and no one can stop me. Not even friends with my best interests in their minds.

I have talked to people, thinking they were someone whom they were not. I have given girls standing in line for the bathroom my comedy routine. I have smoked weed and then taken shots which has led me to puking in the toilet, fresh herbs and tasty dinners and my former bartender (I was the cocktail waitress) holding my hairs back in his hands. Him laughing uncontrollably, telling me over and over.. I love you! I love you!

I am the girl who sits professionally in professional-type meetings with important-professional-type people, trying to contribute to educational conversations, meanwhile thinking about the action I have gotten the weekend before, and how I may have two personas. Have you met them both?

I have told my boss that I have a ‘date with a taco’ that night. And he looks at me.. eyebrow raised, like I’m up to something… and he may want to be up to it with me. But really, I just really want to go to my favorite taco stand and eat fifteen hundred tacos. And then I blush. (Because secretly, I fantasize about him and his bald self.)

And Oh! How I have fallen. How I have fallen. Literally… I have FALLEN! How I have worked my stuff, my 5’3 stature and my 3-inch heels. And then I just go down. And I look around quickly. Did anyone see? YES! And he is helping me up right now!!! Or most often.. thank FUCK, no! Nobody has seen!  And my banshee sisters and hauling on my arms and helping me get back on my feet again.  (That is both literal AND figurative.)

THAT’S how banshee I am. And I can’t help it.

And I love it. I love it ALL.

How banshee are you?

- Mexi Wilde

Where did you disappear to last night? You said what? Where did you end up? You did whaaaaat???

And how many times have we said, “We need to write this down.”

And so it begins. The Banshee Diaries.

- Mexi Wilde