Hi, my name is Dennis Masterson. I'm 21 years old, and currently live in my hometown of Newport Beach, California with my mom, Blythe. In fact, for my whole life, it's just been mom and I. My dad has never been in the picture, he died before I was born. He did leave us with a bit of money. We're not exactly among the richest people in the world, but what he left us was enough that we've never really had to worry about money. One other thing you should know about me is that I was diagnosed at the age of 6 with Asperger syndrome. If you're not familiar with Asperger syndrome, it's mild form of autism, on the higher functioning end of the autism spectrum.
One thing about Blythe, she knows and understands me, she tolerates all of my little quirks, my obsessions. She realizes I'm different from other people, now that I have an official diagnosis, she knows it's because somehow I'm wired a bit differently. I am highly intelligent, I taught myself how to read before I got out of diapers. I'm smart enough to be doing college level work in school, but sometimes I have trouble focusing, but did manage to focus enough to graduate high school with a 3.8 GPA. But we're not here to talk about my intelligence or academic record. I mention it only to tell a little about myself.
Mom has always been what I would call "physically affectionate" towards me. Actually, she is a physically affectionate person in general, she's what some would call "a hugger". I sometimes get a bit uncomfortable with all the affection, but that's just her. She does know, however, when to back off. She says when a mother gives birth to and singlehandedly raised a son who can drink a beer while gambling in a Las Vegas casino, she pretty much knows him inside and out.
Another thing about my relationship with mom, like I said before, she knows and understands me better than anyone, probably better than I know myself sometimes. She not only tolerates my quirks and obsessions, she somehow embraces them, as she sees them as part of me. She's even indulged my obsessions at times. One of my obsessions is Siamese twins, I had that obsession since I was 4.My grandma was an Avon Lady from 1967 to 2003, and had saved a copy of every brochure during her time selling Avon, which she gave to my mom after she retired. Anyways, one day when I was 4, I was looking at a brochure from 1974, and saw a picture of two women who were joined back to back. I showed it to my mom, and she told me the women were supposed to be Siamese twins. She said that Siamese twins are born joined to one another, and from there, I developed a lifelong obsession with Siamese twins. An example of how she indulges and/or embraces my whims is that even to this day, at times, she and I will pretend that we're Siamese twins. According to mom, when she and I pretend to be physically joined to one another in the privacy of our own home, it's not harming anyone, so why should it be anyone's business.
The fact my mom and I occasionally pretend that we're Siamese twins is also an example of one of the rules mom set for me. She said that when I'm in public, I act "normal"(as normal as I can), but when it's just her and I, in the privacy of our home, I'm expected to be myself, to "let out" everything I hold in when I'm around other people. Basically, she doesn't mind my quirks, she calls them part of me. Another rule in our house is that part of being myself is being totally honest with her, putting all my cards on the table, so to speak. She expects me to be comfortable telling her anything. And I do mean everything. She says that honesty works both ways, I need to be honest with her, and she'll be completely honest with me. She said that the only subject that is off limits is my father. She said that there is a reason she can't tell me much about him, all I know about him is that he's nearly 15 years younger than mom, the night I was conceived was the only time either of them ever had sex, he died before I was born, and when he died, he left mom and I a pretty sizeable chunk of change, while not enough to put us in the same tax bracket as Warren Buffett, Bill Gates, or current(as I write this in the summer of 2018) United States President Donald Trump, it's enough that neither of us ever have to worry about paying the bills.
I should also describe mom and I, at least our physical appearance. I'm not what you would call the classic "tall, dark, and handsome", I'm average height, kind of skinny, I don't have 6-pack abs, but I'm not fat, in fact, someone once told me that my stomach was flat enough for a plane to land on it. I have sandy blond straight hair and brown eyes, and sometimes I think I have a face made for radio. As for mom, she's taken real good care of herself. She has never smoked, never had as much as a drop of alcohol, and never taken drugs recreationally. She hits the gym regularly, and looks much younger than her 56 years(coincidentally, she gave birth to me on her 35th birthday). A lean body, with long slender legs, her measurements are 34-22-33, with firm breasts. She has red hair, green eyes, small feet with cute, dainty toes, elegant, feminine hands with long fingers and naturally long fingernails(which are usually done in a French manicure, while her toenails are usually painted red), and is slightly taller than me(she's 5'8" while I'm half an inch shorter). There are people who say that after a certain age(which is definitely younger than mom is now) where a woman should refrain from wearing strapless or off the shoulder tops, but even at her age, mom rocks bare shoulders better than a woman half her age. Even though she's in her mid 50s, she can still pass for a woman in her 30s. I mean, it is wrong for a guy to think his mom is sexy, but trust me, she is.
Getting back to the rule in our house, how mom and I are expected to be honest with each other, that came into play last night. After dinner, I helped her clean up the kitchen as usual, and the two of us watched a movie on Netflix. It was kind of a warm night, so I removed my shirt, she was wearing a tube top and shorts. We sat on our couch, I had my arm around her. And about halfway through the movie, I paused it. Mom knew right off the bat there was something wrong. "Something the matter, dear?" she asked.
"I think I need to talk to you," I said, as I turned off both the Blu-Ray player we were using to watch Netflix, as well as the TV. "Something serious."
"What is it?" she asked.
"Something that's been bothering me for a while now," I said. "I know your rule, I can be myself in the privacy of our home, but it also means I have to be honest with you."
"Something you've been keeping from me?" she asked, pouting, as if she knew what I was going to say. "Could it be the crush you have on me?"
"How did you know?" I asked.
"I'm your mother," she said. "I can tell. Remember, I'm your mother, I know things about you that you probably don't know yourself. I just want to know, how long?"
"A few years," I said. "Since I was 16. Remember during my sophomore year, when I had that Friday off because of a faculty conference, we decided to spend the day on the beach. You had on that strapless bikini that most women in their 50s would have no business wearing, but for some reason, you pulled it off like it was made just for you. Anyways, when I saw you in that, I was thankful my shorts were a bit baggy, I didn't want you to see the rush of blood between my legs, if you know what I mean."
