Every time I thought I’d got it made, it seemed the taste was not so sweet

I broke up with MFP about a month ago.

It was a difficult decision to make, but ultimately the only one that I could… and so I handed her back what few of her things had still been at my place, and told her goodbye.  It was not a conversation.  It was not sitting down to discuss what was going on, and there was no room for figuring out how to keep things going.

MFP had moved out a few months back.  She started looking for a new place after the last time we were ready to call off our relationship; living under the same room together had left us ready to rip out each other’s throats on a regular basis, and back in July it was a matter of one of us leaving this apartment or both of us leaving, period.  It was a cycle, though — reaching a point where we were falling apart, sitting down to talk about it (sometimes with the help of a couples’ therapist) and things going a little bit better for a while… until they continued downhill and we were falling apart again. Trying to keep doing that wasn’t going to work for me.  “Sitting down to talk” would have been about the most foolish thing I could do. You know how people talk about the “definition of insanity” as doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result? It would have been insane to keep repeating that cycle, especially knowing that’s what I would have been doing. Put another way, “beating off a dead horse won’t make it cum any faster.” Sometimes it’s important to recognize when your actions are futile, and when the only thing — not the “right thing,” not the “good thing” or the “kindest thing” or the “painless thing” or the “best thing” — the only thing you can do that’s going to work is to walk away.

She has more resources, financially and otherwise, and back then she was able to snag a studio within a month and a half or so, where she’s been living since. The lease we signed together for this apartment was for one year, November 2012 through November 2013.  After she moved, The Rabbit — who co-signed for me, which made this place possible — paid the portion of the rent that MFP had been. That lease is up, now, and since my $860/month from the government isn’t enough to even find a room in an apartment, let alone my own place, I’m not sure what I’m going to do.  (The studio MFP found was an absolute steal at under $1000 — even in a run-down neighborhood that’s not connected to public transit or much of anything else, for reference.  A cheap room in an apartment with several other people in the most dangerous parts of town, like where I lived with my Psycho Ex, might go for $600 plus the cost of shared utilities.) For the next month, I’m going to be staying put; the property management company has confirmed that as stated in the lease terms, this converts to a month-to-month agreement, and so long as I give 30 days’ notice before leaving, I’ll be okay.  I’m working on getting everything I own packed and into a storage locker as quickly as I can… and then I’ll likely be staying on couches and in guest rooms to start the new year, unless some miracle comes my way.  It’s possible that The Rabbit can put me up like she did last fall, between the time I escaped from hell with Stoner Dude, Girl-Child, and Boy-Toy, and the time I ended up here — but it’s not permanent, and it’s far away from everything (2 miles up a steep hill from the nearest bus stop, and that bus takes 20 minutes minimum to get to BART — if I get there on time. If I miss the bus it can be 45 minutes or more before the next.)

Anyway, through the breakup and after I’ve been grateful beyond words for the support of Again — who has been an understanding ear and occasional (though far less than either of us would like) sexual release.  I’ve been amazed again and again at how completely she “gets” the situation, at how completely she “gets” me.  If she were available to build a  significant long-term romantic and emotional relationship, I’d gladly have her; she’s already got more than a full plate with Crowbar locally and long-distance with Pout. (New name alert! Pretty cool guy, actually — met him while he was visiting a bit ago. His name here has nothing to do with any sour expression I’ve seen on his face!)

I also finally managed to get The Rabbit into the hat the sack recently.  It only took a year and a half or more… both of us wanting, both of us trying, both of us running into one obstacle after another, but both holding on and hoping. I’m still trying to find a chance to get me and Again and The Rabbit together at the same time for some fun, or even just to arrange for the two of them to have some time alone.  It always makes me happy when I can see those I love, sharing love.  It was heartwarming magic to share a few nights with Lime when she was here to visit early in October, but even more magical to have Again joining us one of those nights!

Oh!  And I have my first-ever OkCupid success story! I found SoCal in my list of “people you should check out,” and… I was completely blown away by her profile — the writing in her profile, first, and as if that weren’t enough to intimidate me, then I saw her photos.  “Stunning” and “gorgeous” and “jaw-dropping” and “panty-soaking” are all true, but they don’t begin to describe what I saw and felt.  I kept checking out her profile, trying to work up the nerve to write her… and then I got a message from her! “I must say you’re quite lovely,” it read in part.  Cue the guitar opening from “She’s So High” — I was floored that this seeming “Cleopatra/Joan of Arc/or Aphrodite” had called me “quite lovely.” Wrote back. Made plans to meet which were sadly derailed by anaphylactic shock (she’s okay.) Rescheduled and kept plans, and… WOW. Hoping for another opening in her ever-busy schedule soon!

It’s been tough, though, after breaking up with MFP… knowing that I almost left the country for the first time — she was going to take me halfway across the world to spend Christmas with her family. I even finally got my passport.  Knowing that in less than 24 hours from the time I told her goodbye, she’d called many of our mutual friends to talk all about the situation from her side, and over the next week I heard from a couple of my close friends that she’d repeatedly called them and that they were uncomfortable with her trying to come to them to support her against me.  I’ve heard from a number of friends since when I get the chance to see them that “just so you know, I have talked with her a little bit about your breakup. I mean,  it’s not like I’ve passed along anything important or private or anything… but yeah, just wanted to let you know I’ve been support for her.”  I’m basically unsurprised by these little confessions, now, which is somewhat frustrating when I know that I’ve had too little in the way of opportunity to process this difficult situation with anyone… and I can figure that anybody I know even moderately well will have already heard MFP talk about things. It feels like I’m not entitled to have a friend to listen without judgement or preconceived ideas about the situation, not when most of those have already been claimed by her.

I’ll get through all of this.  I know I will.  The uncertainty with where I’ll live, the pain of a relationship ending, the difficulties with all sorts of other stuff.  And I know that I’ll be stronger and better and a more “refined” version of the woman I am now — it’s the process of tumbling away, burning away, scraping and filtering away the bits that are less pure, less relevant, less needed, and gathering together the essence of myself in concentrate.  It’s life.

Also.Also.Also. If you have any leads on housing in the San Francisco Bay Area (preferably East Bay,) queer-friendly, women-only, under $700/month… let me know! I can pass along more details.

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Peeling back the layers, somewhere beyond the threshold… I’ve been the passenger.

Today has been… weird.

Weird, like, I feel like I’ve stepped outside of reality momentarily, like I’m only half-here.

Weird, like, I’ve had the odd taste in my throat and unease in my belly that often signal oncoming cold symptoms, but they’ve been fading and out, and the other things I usually query as self-diagnostics for “you’re getting a cold!” haven’t been there.

Weird, like, I’ve only once in my life had something that fit what others described as a migraine, but tonight I was noticing bits of the things that I felt then… in diminished form, like echoes.  I’m sure my severely disrupted sleep/wake cycle the last few days hasn’t been easy on my body/mind/self, but… this doesn’t make sense.

Weird, like, I remember looking at the clock about 6:30pm and thinking I should make sure to get out of the house… and I started getting clothes on, cleaning myself up to leave — and I remember looking at the clock again just before 10pm and being certain that much time could not have passed, and I had only put on underwear and cleaned up my face.

Weird, like, I don’t know what temperature feels comfortable in here.  I’ve had the heat on several times today, to higher than I would almost ever turn it — and then I’ve turned it off and opened things up to cool it way down.  Then repeat the process with a few temperature changes on both ends of things… not quite as warm heater, colder cooldown, less cool next cycle or even colder still.

I know I’ve been really itching for, hungry for, needing a huge dose of surreality in my life for a while.  I know I’ve been calling for fire and ocean and seeking out art that tears at the cloud of mundane corporeal existence, visuals and visions that pull me beyond.  I know I’ve had that need for too long… I wonder if it was my recent call seeking Discord that finally opened the gates?

The laptop computer I’m currently using to type this is just barely — in the last couple of days — up and functional again (minus the audio output, which may not ever be working.)  I hadn’t realized for some time that when I first got WinXP installed on here, I’d broken something about its ability to update itself, to apply security patches and such, and it ended up being a simpler process to wipe and start over… though the process of getting things working took several more wipe/reinstall cycles, each with a fair bit of research and experimentation and hair-pulling (and not the sexy kind.)

The last time I was installing Windows on here, and it asked me for the computer’s name, I started to type “ThinkPad” as I had done several times before.  It would have still been the only system I own whose name does not begin with my own, then a hyphen, then a single word identifier (-laptop, -desktop, -win7desk, -dlbox, etc.)  But I stopped.  And I thought.  And I named her.

Eris-Spawn.

How d’ya like them apples, huh? Seems golden to me!

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