Back in the Saddle

It’s never as relaxing as you think it’s going to be. There was not nearly as much solitary reading as I was fantasizing about, and there was much more visiting than I’d wanted. People, faugh. I did have a beer with select members of the Music Mania cast. Seen Waiting for Guffman?

I got to spend some really nice one-on-one time with my grandmother. No more about her here, since I’ve got enough to say about her for another post.

Also written in the "fun" column:

1) Dinner with Samir and Stephanie, both of whom I met through Mike, and John Tielli, my old roommate. The S’s have just been through a break up (and gotten back together), and all three of them love Mike like family. Dinner was good on two counts: it felt like a salve to have someone who knows how great Mike is also be thoroughly understanding about why I can’t be with him; also important to know I haven’t lost all the connections I made through Mike just because we’re not together anymore. Turns out people like me for me. Go figure. Oh, three counts: they’re really nice fun smart entertaining people to be around.

2) Nice long visit with Nile. Nile is a very very funny man, and I love him to death. We’ve had our ups and downs, but he feels pretty solid in my life. He makes me laugh and knows how to call me on my shit. Let’s hope that I don’t do something stupid like fuck him someday and wreck the delicate balance we’ve managed to work out. He came shoe shopping with me, then to the dinner mentioned above, and then we went to see MI:3 which was bad but entertaining.

3) Imogen! Imogen! I have very cute nieces. One of whom is 9 months old and lives in a town with a name that reminds me of both disease and salad. Caesarea.

The bad stuff is all stuff to do with missing Mike. For the most part, I am surprised at how well I am handling this. I am getting through my days well, I’m eating fine, exercising, talking to people. Going away was hard though. I kept thinking "Oh, I should call Mike and let him know I’m here." And the bus ride back? Knowing I was coming home to an empty house and no boyfriend? There was crying, you know it.

Seeing as how doing anything other than listening to music on the bus makes me feel sick, I had a lot of time to think. And this is how the sadness feels. Like the inside of my skin is covered in boils, and I can go along fine, a little uncomfortable and achy, but fine. And then I twist, and my rib or my hipbone scrapes up against a pustule and what comes out is tears. Everything is fine, it’s a beautiful day, I’m reading a great book and satisfied to be alone: then I turn to look over my shoulder and I can’t think of anything that’s broken my heart more.