So here’s the Mars (Aries) Mercury portion of the conversation, along with the ever-present 8th house.

“Hey, we never rode in a car,” he said. “I never wanted a car. I liked the motorcycle. I didn’t get a car until I got a kid. If you have a kid, then you’ve got to have a car.”

“Yep. And I know that. I mentioned that, actually, to Scott. I told him I never rode in a car with you that I could especially remember. Maybe once. So you and I were something different.”

“Yeah, we went everywhere on the bikes. We zoomed everywhere on those bikes all the time. Zoom.”

“Yeah.

“Let’s go to the movies! We’d zoom there on the bikes! Let’s go here. Let’s go there. Zoom! Zoom on the bikes! We need some groceries. Better get on the bikes and go to the store. Let’s zoom there! Do you remember getting groceries on the bikes? You’d ride with one hand on the handlebar and the other holding a bag of groceries. Remember that?”

“Oh yeah. I do remember that, now.”

“Well we definitely got around. You in your yellow pants and that green flight jacket. Zoom!”

“I know.” I tried to remember if I had any pants besides the yellow ones since he’s mentioned them several times and I wasn’t sure. I was a one-pair-of-pants-from-Goodwill kind of girl back then, sort of. I figured I must have had another pair of pants, but definitely favored the yellow ones so probably made a point to wear them when he was around. You know. Wear your ugly pants when your man is not around, right? Hah!

“And you don’t realize at the time how strange it is. It wasn’t normal, Els. Some of the shit we pulled. Like moving you into the barracks.”

“Right. How foolish,” I said with a chuckle. “What were we thinking?” I asked, knowing exactly what we were thinking.

“And that other stunt. Do you know what a Washington Post reporter would have given to have an opportunity like that?” he asked. “I mean, do you realize? A Washington Post reporter would have given just about anything to have the chance to infiltrate something like that so deeply.”

“I know. And I was an idiot kid. A 17 year old. And can you think of anything more testosterone than that? I can’t. But by now, you can see it’s not that strange. This is what I do. I am drawn to this kind of thing. Where ever I’m not supposed to be, I want to be there. Because look what happens. Next thing you know, its a few years later and I dress up like a gay man. And I go out like that because I want to know what’s going on. I wanted to check it out.”

He laughed.

“And who else would do that? Who but me would pull that kind of crap? What woman is going to pretend she’s a man and go out in this environment? But I wanted to do that. Boy did I ever. You could not have stopped me by any means because obviously, this is what I do. And it must be what I am supposed to do since I’ve been doing it my whole life. Winding up all these places I don’t belong.”

I debate exposing the root of why this is, but decide not to in the matter of a half a second. “I’m supposed to know this stuff I guess,” I said. “I sure like it. And it always has to do with men. I sure like men.”

“I know.”

“I really do like men. I am interested in them. I am interested in men, like no one could believe. Like crazy, actually. What is more interesting than men? Nothing I can imagine.”

To be continued.