If you're done on facebook, then I'm done watching my baseball team lose again in high definition. So let's meet at the sandwich shop and I can tell you your story.
And your story is as follows: There is no such thing as a woman in this world who is not a goddess. The trick is finding out what sort of goddess you are. You who prefer eating the vegetarian sandwich, you come from the large tribe of fairy goddesses of the woods, friends of the animals. You wore maple leaves as crowns and took farm men to the west as lovers whenever you so desired.
Don't believe me? Think I'm just trying to get in your pants?
I'm no farm man. We wouldn't last.
But I know you well enough to know that you genuflect in your sleep to the blue moon, and that means your secret lake is snow-covered in the summer. Your night angel is busy collecting hearts near the great butterfly tree. And your goofball spirit still enjoys licking candy and sunbathing in your castle's stain glass chamber.
In other words, same old story with you.
Here's a question for you to think about as well as the answer to the one rattling around in your head.
Why, oh why are we humans when we are really spirits?
And: My gift is x-ray vision. There is no such thing as imagination.
So that's your story, in a nutshell. You want the long version, with translations and Cliff Notes as to what I'm talking about, then you'll have to pick up the bill for the sandwiches.