I was having a deep discussion the other night about how psychic abilities go down the tubes when the psychic is horny. It’s like they just can’t inhabit the same headspace. Not helpful. Maybe it’s the same quirk that doesn’t get me lottery numbers. You have to be utterly relaxed to do psychic work, and horniness and greed are more exciting than relaxing, durnit.
My particular solution was to take the object of my lust affections to my mildly amusing OCD stepmother. She comes from old Irish stock and has a bit of the fey about her. And the cheap. She used to get my telepathic messages to call me, but would put it off until I wound up calling her, thereby saving long distance charges.
Back to the boyfriend-vetting. I would watch her eyes when I introduced her to my particular prize of the moment. If she was uncomfortable with him, her left eye would commence to twitching. Really, it was something to behold, bordering on Tourette’s Syndrome behaviour.
That was the bad boyfriend alert. Not that I always listened to it, because I wanted to take him around the block a bit first, if you get my drift. *patented innocent look #523*
The funniest part? With all the twitching going on, the bad boyfriends thought she was winking at them, and took it as an invite.
Heh. They clearly didn’t know my father well.
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