Is this thing on?...Hellooo?

So! Maybe I should just start a new blog- this one seems to be cursed. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll get around to it. I owe you an update before I get around to the real reason I’m here.

The dude and I broke up last month. I’m still trying to boil down the reasons into a concise sentence for public consumption, but “We were at different stages in our lives” is just a pansy-ass way of saying “I wanted to get married, and he wasn’t ready.” There are two things that really burn me about this.

1. He came to his decision all by his selfish, as my dad would say. I mean, since The Talk in late December (when we gave ourselves a year to hit it or quit it) we haven’t really talked about it at all. (Yes, communication is a two-way street and this was a warning sign to begin with but this is my blog and I skew if I want to.) Early May he went away on business for a few days, triggering the “figure this shit out” mechanism and a confession: he wasn’t ready to get married. He did not want to break up, but you know? Fuck that. In the first place, it took me some long and painful months to figure out and come to terms with the fact that I wanted to get married at all. And building a life with someone is not a one-sided activity. Not like, say, MAKING A HUGE DECISION ABOUT YOUR RELATIONSHIP. To sum up: I be pissed because he wanted to “save me the pain” of being there while he figured it out. How exquisitely condescending.

2. I ignored my gut instinct about this very possibility for over a year because I didn’t want to be alone. Thinking about dating again made me exhausted. For the record, I am fully aware that dating fatigue not a legitimate reason to marry someone. I just concentrated on other things and tried to rationalize what ultimately was an unsatisfying relationship (not ‘ultimately’ b/c we broke up, but ‘ultimately’ b/c I wasn’t fully happy with him/us.) The initial sting of rejection has receded in a flood of relief.



Alrighty then. So I’m moving out next week, to a great place abut ½ mile away, with a yard and a brand new kitchen and nice windows and light. My roommate, S, is a woman in her mid-thirties with whom so far I have a lot in common: similar decorating style, relationships with friends and men, schnargly lurve with dogs. After signing the lease a few weeks ago, I realized I haven’t lived with a woman since.. 1998. Not counting the 9-month stint with my folks, that’s eight years in seven apartments in four towns and two states: all with guys. Strange considering I’ve had fabulous girl roomies (you know who you are, you sexy things). Anyway, S and I have already made jokes about running around the apartment naked, so I’m thinking this may work out alright.