The boy from Germany arrives tonight, sweet little thing that I had a fling with at the hacker con last summer, we'll see how the "you're sleeping on the couch, I'm monotonous" speech goes...
Princess is chaperoning, of course...
Tomorrow I'm abandoning him for the Starlight event at Cascad'eau up north, then coming back in time to get my keys back from cf who's doing a photo shoot with David's band on my roof.
Today I have to do groceries, I mean what's an appartment without BEER, let alone milk... Then check Marc's mail, feed Nancy's cats, get my eyebrows done...
And finishing disposing of memories that have slowly been collecting in oversized garbage bags from about the appartment.
Three bags down, and it's still cluttered, but at least the floors are almost clear...
I'm talking because the sun is bright and it's summer out again, the comedian at the Spinal Tap show Wednesday night ever so astutely pointed out that we've been through three seasons in the past week.
I'm talking because the irony of getting drunk off one beer last night and then filling myself with smoke and dairy queen byproducts is not lost on me.
Neither is the fact that since I found my highschool yearbook two days ago I've run into every nemesis I've had from then, made them laugh rather than point at me, and run off into the evening.
Aura has a new boyfriend. He's sweet. And nice. Every joke I poked at her came straight from what I said to myself about David...
The sun is on my back, I should put clothes on and head out but I've got four hundred pages left of a twelve hundred page novel and I don'twanttoputitdowndon'twanttoputitdown...
All I have in my head is appartments in Paris, friends I haven't spoken to since I left there are suddenly looking me up, asking when I'm coming by for a visit, and all I can say is "party at my place in Paris".
I don't want to think about it so much. I don't want to go spiralling back down strange wells everytime I steal a kiss from his elbow while he plays guitar and he stops mid-song to say "I'm going to miss that".
I should be out cycling, I should be doing a million things, but when I drop into bed in the morning and wake up just before afternoon to nightmares of bad sex with people who've given up on intimacy... It takes hours and gallons of coffee to breathe again.
I keep remembering some Spider Robinson story about a truth drug that Steven bookmarked for me, remembering the passage about how all this bible-belt bullshit about sex not being important is so wrong... How when bodies meld and suddenly the minds go too, how when the match in chemistry is too perfect, how rare that intimacy is, how rare that ultimate moment of happinness is...
It's not just things in common, not just about minds and breath and poetry, not about flowers at all... Something about making each other THAT happy turning every other obstacle into something easily shared.
So that's what it's like to face life with a partner. No dependencies, no nagging, no mind games or ego games or holding-out-on-sex-to-watch-a-chick-flick games...
Just another barrier against the cold.
Oh. Well, at least I got to experience it for a while...