was garbage. I wasn’t worthy of that sweet, gorgeous goddess who had robbed me of my soul when I kissed her that hot, balmy night so long ago. I didn’t deserve her. I didn’t deserve my lifelong dream I’d had with her by my side, the mother of my children, the muse of my entire existence.
I was broken. What would she want with me? What would I have left to offer her when I was finally able to go home?
What does it matter? She let me go.
After that, we left for Switzerland and got back into the studio.
A few months went by, and I met a cute little thing who had her own flat and liked rockers with big dicks. Long blonde hair and cornflower-blue eyes, Brigid took me in and made me feel almost normal. I had been depressed for so long, lonely and miserable, that she felt good to be around. The guys liked her all right—well, Jason thought she was good for her drug connections, if for nothing else. She introduced me to heroin, and the few times I was on that, I was able to just…let go.
But in the end, it wasn’t in me to like that shit too much. Something inside me kept reminding me that I wasn’t supposed to walk down that road, that there were greater things ahead of me.
I wanted to love Brigid. I wished I could’ve fallen head over heels for her, so I could tell Kenna to fuck off and then get on with my life. But I knew there was no way…because I couldn’t fuck Brigid either without holding my dick, not wanting to really be inside anyone but my Baby Girl. If I ever found her again, it would be the one thing left I could give her that no one else really ever had.
All of me.
Not even that very first time, I couldn’t get it all the way in before my ex screamed out in pain and bled all over the fuckin’ place.
Something inside me knew that Kenna would be able to take it all. She had been made for me. Or I had been made for her. Whatever the case, no one else could have it. It was hers.
That was how I was able to just get up and leave Brigid. And I knew I’d fuckin’ hurt her. We had been planning that she’d come with us on tour. But right before we were scheduled to leave, I was asleep with Brigid in my arms…and Kenna came to me.
It was a new dream, not the one where she and I were married and had a houseful of our awesome brats. This one, we were lying in my old backyard, looking up at the stars, and she was saying the same shit I’d heard in my head when she did that salute at the last show. I’d do it at the end of our shows now, so if she ever saw them, she’d know I was still thinking of her.
“I honor the place in you where Spirit lives. I honor the place in you, which is of Love, of Truth, of Light, of Peace. When you are in that place within you and I am in that place within me, then we are One.”
And that was it.
I woke up, and the woman in my arms…it was as if the seven previous months meant nothing to me.
I had heard her voice, had felt her hand in mine, and it was all I needed. I was, in that one waking moment, a whole man. I knew who I was and who I needed to be.
And none of it was with Brigid.
The next day, we left. I left a screaming, crying woman in my wake. I promised myself no more fuckin’ girlfriends. It wasn’t fuckin’ worth it. The next woman I would commit to would be Kenna. She was the only one.
We toured all over Eastern Europe, Russia, Japan, and then back through to Italy and Spain, finally landing in Germany to record Addicted Masochist. That took a little over a year. We got a break for six months. I thought about going back home to look for her, but I was scared that if I found her, I wouldn’t leave again, and we had a tour scheduled. So, we all stayed in Germany, and then we toured the British Isles and Scandinavia.
That was when I met a really cool chick. There was just something so familiar and charming about