My girlfriend has been possessed by an old person ever since we started dating.

I remember the day I met my girlfriend, Samantha, as though it were only yesterday. She was wearing an old lady face when I met her, but I had a feeling that she wasn't actually old. She had this... spark in her eyes. <br><br>It was as though she had been living a life she didn't want for so long that she had given up on the facade. But she still had a glimmer of youth inside her. She looked like she wanted to break free. And that's what I did. <br><br>I asked her out. She said yes. We've been together for five years now. In that time, she's had at least ten different personas, each one of them an old person. <br><br>Sometimes she's a grandmother. Sometimes she's a mother or a father. She's a great aunt or an elderly bachelor. She's even a toddler. But no matter what she's pretending to be, I know she's still Samantha. <br><br>Sometimes it gets exhausting. But it's also kind of fun. I like seeing who she's going to be this time. She never tells me when she's about to switch. I just have to wait and see. <br><br>But sometimes it's frustrating. Like the time she switched into a middle aged man with a screaming infant and stayed that way for a week. I get it, babies are hard work. But I had to go a whole week without any intimacy at all. I'm glad that phase is over. <br><br>Other times it's sad. Like when she was a teenager and had to pretend to be okay with the things her family wanted her to do, even though she didn't really want to. She stayed that way for about two years. It was hard for me sometimes, seeing her that way. But I always knew she was faking it for her own reasons, and that gave me comfort. <br><br>Once she was a young girl. She stayed like that for about a year. I liked that version of her the best, even though she was hard work sometimes. She was so eager to play pretend sometimes, and that made it easier to get into character. <br><br>But one day she switched into a middle aged housewife and stayed that way for a couple of months. She was a lot harder work that way. I had to do a lot of research on what kinds of things middle aged housewives in the 50's would have done. I couldn't even hug her without breaking character. It was hard work, but I knew it was all for her benefit, so I didn't mind. <br><br>I remember when I first found out that she could do this. It was a couple of days after we met, and she was still that old lady face. I had picked her up from work early one day because she said she was feeling unwell. She was working at a nursing home at the time. <br><br>She was sitting in bed when I got there. She was quiet and pale. She looked like she was about to pass out at any moment. <br><br>"I'm sorry," she said. "I know it's early. I didn't sleep much last night." <br><br>I didn't ask her why. I just sat with her until she felt better. It took most of the day, but eventually she was smiling and talking to me. I loved it. <br><br>When she was feeling better, I asked her if she wanted to get something to eat. She smiled and said that she'd make something. <br><br>I was surprised, but I figured why not. I'll admit, she made the best toast and soup I've ever had. It reminded me of when my mother was alive. <br><br>When we were cleaning up, I asked her if she'd show me her kitchen. It's a small studio apartment she rented on her own, which impressed me. I come from a good family, but I'm the youngest of five, and I didn't do well in school. I had to drop out after failing my second year. So I was surprised that she was self sufficient enough to support herself. <br><br>I guess that's because she was born into a wealthy family. She comes from old money. But she didn't go to college, and instead chose to work as soon as she was old enough. I guess that was a rebellious act on her part, considering her family wanted her to marry well and settle down young. <br><br>While we were walking around her kitchen, I asked her what she was making. She smiled and said it was just some soup. <br><br>I said it was nice, but she looked sad. She put down the spoon she was holding and said that she wasn't very good at making things. <br><br>I asked her what she meant. <br><br>"I'm not very good at anything," she said. "My family doesn't acknowledge me. They don't even know I exist." <br><br>I asked her what she meant. She looked down at her feet and said that they only cared about appearances. They wanted her to marry well, wear nice clothes, and attend social events. They didn't care what she did for a living, as long as she was employed. But she didn't want to live that life. She wanted to make a difference. <br><br>I asked her what she wanted to do, and she said that she wanted to help people. I asked her what she was doing at the nursing home then, and she said that it was a start. She was taking care of people who couldn't take care of themselves. She said that it was a small thing, but it was better than nothing. <br><br>I told her that it sounded like she was doing a lot, and she looked at me with that same spark in her eye. She smiled and said that she wasn't. But I knew she was. <br><br>After that, I felt like I really got to know her. I liked that old lady face she was wearing at the time. I liked her spirit. And when the phase passed and she changed, I knew she'd always be that way to me, even if she looked different. <br><br>But sometimes it's hard. Like when she was a toddler and threw herself on the floor screaming when I wanted to have sex. Or when she was an elderly lady and complained about anything I wanted to do. Or when she was a middle aged man and screamed at me for buying the wrong brand of detergent. <br><br>Sometimes I get frustrated with her. I know she's not really like that, but it's hard to remember sometimes. But I always know that she's just pretending, and that gives me comfort. <br><br>I know that she's really a kind person, and I love her for it. Even when she's being difficult, I always remember that deep down, she's a good soul. And that's all that matters to me. <br><br>I'm just glad that I met her. I was drifting around before we met, and I probably would have never met anyone if she hadn't approached me first. But I'm glad I did. I'm glad I met her. <br><br>And I know she's glad she met me too. Deep down, we both know that we're lucky to have each other.