tag:dreamwidth.org,2017-04-10:3016772The Death of Imaginationmuckefuckmuckefuck2023-01-03T17:35:31Ztag:dreamwidth.org,2017-04-10:3016772:1433546Bad rubbish2022-10-03T22:47:47Z2023-01-03T17:35:31Zpublic0I'm going to rename "Bama Clint" since the more time I spend with him, the less he reminds me of <span style='white-space: nowrap;'><a href='https://clintswan.dreamwidth.org/profile'><img src='https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png' alt='[personal profile] ' width='17' height='17' style='vertical-align: text-bottom; border: 0; padding-right: 1px;' /></a><a href='https://clintswan.dreamwidth.org/'><b>clintswan</b></a></span>. One of Benty's friends called him "a lying liar who lies" and that'll do given I don't plan to interact with him more than I can help it going forward.<br /><br />So after we got in touch again, he was texting me pretty much every day. Nothing substantial, just "hope you had a good day" type of stuff. He told me a little about his work, I told him a little about my play. He mentioned he was going to be in the city last Saturday so I went ahead and invited him to Pre-Bear Night Cocktails. About an hour beforehand, he messaged me saying he was still coming but "I might not be able to stay that long because not able to stay in the city tonight like I thought" (which I took to mean that our mutual friends had finally gotten tired of providing crash space for him and told him as much). "Kind of a passive-aggressive way of asking for a place to crash," opined Clint, when I told him about it later. I agreed and didn't respond.<br /><br />About an hour into the gathering, he raised the subject again, which allowed me to magnanimously offer him the guest room in front of the assembled guests. At the time, I was drunk and happy and figured it wouldn't disrupt my Sunday too much. When the party finally broke up after one, he followed me to Touché. I offered him keys, but he said he'd just leave when I did. As a result, he kept me in sight the whole evening as I flitted about and fooled around with a couple of guys. When we got back, he simply said, "I think I'll crash now" and went into the bedroom.<br /><br />The next morning, we both lazed around in our separate beds. I texted him to see if he needed anything, let him know Clint was coming upstairs to make breakfast, and told him I was going to try napping again. Around noon, I woke up for real and brought him some towels so he could shower while I made us tea. He basically took a whore's bath and then joined me at the table.<br /><br />The conversation was quite ordinary morning chat. The only thing that made it odd was the previous suggestion that he had so much more to say. After less than an hour, he abruptly announced that a mutual friend was "having him over for burgers". Given the circumstances, I assumed that this was a hookup. He headed out and I didn't hear from him the rest of the day.<br /><br />Finally toward evening, I texted him and asked, "Was that the conversation you wanted to have?" and he responded confused. As far as he was concerned, we'd talked out what we needed to via text and had made a "fresh start". So now it was my turn to be confused and, frankly, annoyed. He literally begged me to give him another chance so we could...make small talk about mass transit? I was especially annoyed at Benty, who all but told me outright that LLWL was interested in dating me. "Well, if he's interested, he hides it very well," I texted him as I complained about the situation later.<br /><br />Oddest of all, Benty--who's previously been pretty quick to suggest DTMFA whenever someone is being at all difficult--kept leaping in to defend him. When I said "He doesn't trust me" he countered "You can't be sure of that." Well, I'm as sure as I need to be. And I'm doubly sure that if there's no sex on offer and all he needs from my friendship is introductions and crashspace, then I have no real use for this guy. Let someone else adopt him. I'll just sit back and watch the bridges burn.<br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=muckefuck&ditemid=1433546" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> commentstag:dreamwidth.org,2017-04-10:3016772:1433175What I'm trying not to think about2022-09-29T22:37:04Z2022-09-29T22:37:04Zpublic0So here's a couple things I'm trying not to let prey on my mind.<br /><br />I've been know to say that "I don't do jealousy". For the most part this is true. I often feel <i>envious</i> of other people for various reasons, but I try to feel jealous of them. Jealousy seems to me a pure negatively emotion, one driven by pure possessiveness and that's not how I want to behave in relationships.<br /><br />So it's especially frustrating to be confronting these feelings with--you guessed it!--BB. The most recent flare-up was occasioned by something that should have been amusing to me: I texted him last night to chat. He mentioned meeting a friend of mine, which mildly surprised me, since neither he nor this friend are much for going on, especially on school nights. He was cagey about how they met so I messaged the friend directly and he confessed that it was a Growlr hookup. (He happened to see my text come through and was like, "Hey, you know Da too?")<br /><br />What I wanted to say at this point was, "Good for them!" They're both good guys and deserve to have a little fun. Instead, I found I had to avoid any concrete thoughts of the two of them getting busy together in order not to turn green. Compounding this all was the fact that I've felt attracted to the other guy but I hadn't pursued it because he's married and I'd seen no indications that the relationship was open. (Obviously if I were <i>really</i> attracted to him, I would have done more to find out.)<br /><br />I've been struggling for months with feeling in some way entitled to BB's attention--including his sexual attentions--and it was annoying af to be reminded that, once again, I'm not where I want to be on this. I really don't know where this delusion of mine comes from. I think there might be some racial component, but that can't explain it all. Ironically, before I initially texted him yesterday, I was once again at a place of equanimity regarding him and this just threw that into the garbage. Anyway, I've invited them both to cocktails on Saturday (with their explicit knowledge), so that should be interesting.<br /><br />The other thing I've been trying not to think about is Nuphy. His children have moved him into assisted living in Naperhell and though he's trying to be positive about it, I know he's not happy about it. He'd been warning me this was coming and now I'm kicking myself for not doing more to spend time with him before it happened.<br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=muckefuck&ditemid=1433175" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> commentstag:dreamwidth.org,2017-04-10:3016772:1430895The cat came back2022-07-19T21:21:03Z2022-07-19T21:21:03Zpublic0Yesterday afternoon, I texted <span style='white-space: nowrap;'><a href='https://clintswan.dreamwidth.org/profile'><img src='https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png' alt='[personal profile] ' width='17' height='17' style='vertical-align: text-bottom; border: 0; padding-right: 1px;' /></a><a href='https://clintswan.dreamwidth.org/'><b>clintswan</b></a></span> (as I generally do several times a day) to tell him "In other news, my nemesis is back." Bless his heart, he responded without missing a beat "which one?" By coincidence, before that day was up, I'd had a run-in with a particularly nasty character from last year, but I at the time who I meant was BB.<br /><br />I know he's back because he sent me a text: "Your boy is finally back in town". Me being me, I had a snarky reply all set to send: "same old phone, who dis?" But, me being me, I decided not to send it after all. Not because I was worried about alienating him--quite the contrary in fact. Rather because a joking reply communicated a casual intimacy I no longer felt.<br /><br />Four weeks. Four solid weeks, and not a single message. Yeah, I know, he was busy travelling and spending time with his family. I know I could have texted him whenever I wanted (and I came close). And I'm fully aware that if any of my other friends had done the same--gone away for a month and texted me on their return--I would have responded warmly, asking for deets and probably suggesting we meet up.<br /><br />But BB isn't like my other friends. I'm not sure he's even a friend. He doesn't seem to know how--or, worse, he does know how and doesn't see it as worth the effort. The little things you do to make it clear to others they mean something to you he doesn't bother with. He'll answer questions about his day but he won't ask about yours, he'll accept compliments--grudgingly--but he won't give them. He could have shared his adventure with me--not all of it, of course, but <i>something</i>--a snapshot, a kvetch, an aperçu. But he didn't. In all likelihood he didn't give me a single thought from the moment he left Pennsylvania till the moment he arrived back in Chicago.<br /><br />Seeing the words, "Your boy is finally back in town", my response was: so what? I'm supposed to cheer? Rather than say anything nasty, I decided not to say anything at all. I set a waiting period: I'll finish work, eat dinner, attend my union meeting, call my SIL, <i>then</i> I'll text him back. After four weeks, what's seven hours?<br /><br />But those seven hours passed and I realised there was nothing I wanted to say. All I could think of were prompts to get him to volunteer something he hadn't offered willingly. Once again, here I am back doing all the work in the relationship. I'm tired. I'm not interested. Let him show some interest. Let him make an effort.<br /><br />This was the goal, right? This was the motive behind waiting him out and not texting until he did first: To remind myself how little he needs me and how little I need him. And how do I feel? I feel like Pepa at the end of <i>Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios</i>, when she saves Iván--the rat who walked out on her--from being murdered and he falls down at her feet, promising to take her back, and she tells him it's too late. She just wanted to know he was okay; now that she's seen that, she can leave.<br /><br />My boy is okay. I'm sure when he decides he needs something from me, he'll let me know. And I'll doubtless respond and humour him. But until then I don't see what he has to offer me.<br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=muckefuck&ditemid=1430895" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> commentstag:dreamwidth.org,2017-04-10:3016772:1416381The race is not always to the Swift Boat Veterans2020-03-05T17:21:50Z2020-03-05T17:21:50Zpublic0I've tried not to get too invested int the Presidential race because it's early days and, ultimately, it's not nearly as important as it's made out to be. But I guess I was more in denial about Warren's prospects than I admitted because I definitely have a sad right now. I know her becoming a compromise candidate at a brokered convention was a long shot (and isn't technically off the table) but at least it was something to cling to.<br /><br />I'm not a fan of Sanders, but at least I can get behind his agenda. Sadly, though, that's becoming increasingly moot. He hasn't turned out the youth vote like he claimed he could and a lot of folks who like what he and Warren stand for are getting spooked and running to Biden. Fucking Biden. He should never have been in this race. He should have had the good sense and humility to stand aside and throw his support behind someone younger and more forward-thinking. But of course expecting good sense and humility from a career politician is a mug's game.<br /><br />He's not the worst of the mediocre centrist candidates the Dems have run (last night I was struggling to recall, "How did Dukakis happen?") but he's harder to accept because we've been offered glimpses of something better. But just three years of Trump has been enough to get people to abandon their dreams of something better in the desperate hope of keeping things from getting even worse.<br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=muckefuck&ditemid=1416381" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> commentstag:dreamwidth.org,2017-04-10:3016772:1402705Petty 4 Life2019-10-09T18:41:11Z2019-10-09T18:41:11Zpublic0Although I'm striving to be more kind and forgiving, I'm still capable of remarkable pettiness when provoked.<br /><br />I have relatives in Kansas who are <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tradition,_Family_and_Property">Traditionalist Catholics</a>. My last real contact with any of them was over thirty years ago when my family was making a trip out west. A conversation with the patriarch of the family, who we'll call Evil Uncle Tom, ended with him denying the Holocaust. (I vividly remember my disgust at hearing him insist, "There weren't that many Jews in Germany!")<br /><br />Some years later, one of the cousins got married. My aunt sent my father a wedding invitation which included my siblings but omitted me (it was a few years after I'd come out as gay) and my stepmother (who married my father without him having his previous marriage annulled). My dad sent it back, so she resent it to my <i>mother</i>, who of course turned around and told my dad.<br /><br />Dad was furious, of course; the rest of us just laughed at her foolishness. Some years later, when my younger brother got married, she refused to bring out our grandmother, who was living with her at the time, claiming that Grandma didn't want to go if they weren't having a church wedding. Dad called her bluff, saying he'd drive all the way to Kansas himself to retrieve her, so she came after all--but refused to attend the ceremony itself or let Grandma attend either. To rub it in, she parked Grandma's wheelchair opposite the exit and stood there with her; I'll always remember her smug face as we left the venue. Needless to say, I avoided her for the rest of the reception.<br /><br />She died last month and not only my dad and his wife but my mom and my sister drove out for the funeral. That probably had something to do with why two of my cousins and EUT came to my brother's memorial. At one point during the reception, it looked like EUT was approaching me to offer condolences, so I pointedly walked across the room to his daughter and began chatting with her. She later said to me, "Dad was trying to talk to you but you must have seen him." No, I saw him. I just don't have the time of day for homophobic Nazis.<br /><br />(She and I are now friends on Facebook, which could get interesting. Already she's posted a link to a petition condemning a woman for respecting the gender of her trans child. I politely commented that it was pointless to sign such a petition and that the father's claims of mistreatment weren't substantiated by court documents.)<br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=muckefuck&ditemid=1402705" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> commentstag:dreamwidth.org,2017-04-10:3016772:1396549Conflicted2019-08-26T16:21:34Z2019-08-26T16:21:34Zpublic0Well, it was <b>quite</b> the weekend. From Friday afternoon on, it was a rollercoaster being disappointed and delighted by my interactions with the wider world. This let to a lot of bad sleep (with particularly nasty dreams on Friday and Saturday), which made me more emotionally fragile, heightening the impact of each bad experience.<br /><br />This nearly led to a crying jag at the grocery store Sunday morning. Whatever internet radio channel they have there played a snippet of an interview with a member of the Cranberries talking about how Dolores Riordan ignored the advice of vocal coaches because "she didn't want to sound like everybody else". Then they played "Linger" and it was touch-and-go whether I would make it out of the store before I began ugly crying.<br /><br />(When I got home and tried--for the umpteenth time--to nap again, I first bawled my eyes out to "To My Family" to try and get the sadness out of my system.)<br /><br />I kind of wanted to stay in and focus on self-care but I'd committed to another wine-tasting event in the early afternoon and I was bringing the wine for both me and a recently-unemployed friend. (Might've been better if I had because my choice came in dead last in a field of 18.) That ultimately went well, but it was a harrowing ride getting there.<br /><br />The event was in Lakeview so I decide to take the El down. After checking the location again, I decided my best route was to get off at Sheridan and either take the 151 or a cab/rideshare the rest of the way. It was a lovely Sunday and the train was pretty full--all seats taken, a number of standees. Among them were two women tucked into a corner of the vestibule having a lively conversation in Chinese.<br /><br />As I got up and headed toward them, I heard someone bark "English!" Kitty-corner from them, a sour-faced young guy was slouched in the corner with headphones on. He yelled English again and I said to him "They have the right to speak whatever language they want to." He ignored me, so I repeated it. He just muttered something about being in this country and not speaking English. I told him "Shut the fuck up."<br /><br />That was the wrong thing to say. He turned to me and very belligerently said "What are you going to do about it, punch me? Faggot, bitch! What are you going to do, punch me?" At this point the doors were open, so I pushed past the Cubs fans in front of me and called over my shoulder as I was stepping out, "You're just making all sorts of friends today!" A middle-aged woman standing between the two of us still wore a look of shock and horror at his invective.<br /><br />I had a moment of doubt after I stepped out. Did I have a responsibility to ensure that he didn't assault anyone else after I'd incited him? I decided to trust in the capabilities of my fellow passengers and put my own safety first (not to mention the fact that I was still very focussed on making it to the gathering in a timely fashion).<br /><br />I exited to the street and started waiting for the bus, peering over my shoulder at the entrance on the very off chance that he might ride back to the station and look for me. (I've had stuff like that happen before.) Finally, I decided that for my own piece of mind, the best way forward was to call a ride even though it meant arriving about ten minutes early.<br /><br />I was hoping one of my pals might be waiting outside so I could tell them about the incident and decompress a bit. Instead, I ran right into one of the co-hosts and got ushered into the backyard. Things were in a state of chaos as they rushed to have things ready and I got swept up into helping out.<br /><br />Eventually things settled down and I did have a chance to talk about what happened. I still felt unsettled about it afterwards so when I got home I posted about it to FB, which netted a lot of supportive comments and some very good advice on bystander intervention. (As I kinda suspected I did everything wrong, addressing myself to the instigator and escalating the conflict instead of showing solidarity with the targets.)<br /><br />The gathering was very nice, despite our wine's terrible showing. As always, I met some lovely new people, had some nice drinks and nibbles, and got to see the interior of another lovely homosexual apartment. I got home (by bus this time) in a pleasant alcohol haze that fortified me against any run-in with the neighbours (more on that anon) but didn't prevent me from launching into dinner preparation and chores.<br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=muckefuck&ditemid=1396549" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> commentstag:dreamwidth.org,2017-04-10:3016772:1389129The bodies in the earth2019-06-12T20:48:20Z2019-06-17T19:54:47Zpublic1The more I read up on Mexican history, the more I begin to wonder what part of Mexico City <i>isn't</i> built on top of or underneath a pile of corpses. I knew about the Tlatelolco Massacre--I've even read a <a href="https://muckefuck.dreamwidth.org/780021.html">novella set during it</a>--but I'd never heard of the Corpus Christi Massacre only three years later. Apparently there was an attempt a decade ago to try Luis Echeverría Álvarez (Interior Minister during Tlatelolco and President during Corpus Christi) for "genocide" but it ultimately failed.<br /><br />Tlatelolco came up in the game last night. We needed to find angels and I asked JB, "Where do they congregate?" He said places where people go to pray, like cemeteries and I replied, "Tlatelolco is right there, if that's not too close to the bone." What a way to find out that the father of one of the players was a professor at UNAM in 1968 who shortly after left behind both the country and the teaching profession.<br /><br />In general, JB and Jiggly were patient with my enthusiasm for real-world details. (When he saw my annotated maps of the city centre, JB nervously joked, "Maybe you should be running this game!") Only once--after I'd explained that space was too much at a premium in CDMX for the expansive cemeteries we're used to here--did Jiggly feel it necessary to remark, "Well, this is happening in our fantasy version of Mexico City anyway."<br /><br />Afterwards I was wondering why it matters so much to me to get certain details right. I think what it comes down to is that, if you don't, then you end up substituting them with what you know. And since what we all know best is the Midwest, that leads to every urban setting becoming another thinly-varnished version of Chicago.<br /><br />I'll be the first to say there's nothing at all wrong with Chicago as an urban setting; the Unknown Armies game we set here was one of the best campaigns I've ever participated in. But part of what motivates my desire to roleplay is to explore worlds that I can't otherwise visit. It's not just a minor detail that, say, New Orleans cemeteries are built above ground because of the high water table and the risk of flooding. All those mausolea are one of the things that makes New Orleans New Orleans--and if you don't want that look and feel, then why choose that as a setting?<br /><br />Obviously not every details is of equal importance in constructing verisimilitude and we're still working out what sets the DF apart, but I think the lack of (unpaved) open space is one of those things, just like nearness to being submerged is for NOLA. Jiggly's mantra is "let's play to find out", but there's some things you need to know going in to inform that play unless you're content with it remaining completely on the surface.<br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=muckefuck&ditemid=1389129" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> commentstag:dreamwidth.org,2017-04-10:3016772:1384898Godless2019-05-14T19:52:56Z2019-05-14T19:52:56Zpublic1I got jumped by Jesus freaks today and I didn't handle it well.<br /><br />I was on my way to lunch, which is never a good time to try to start a conversation with me. I'd politely refused a flyer and was continuing on my way when the young woman asked me, "Do you have any spirituality at all?" and I felt compelled to answer, "Nope, I'm a total atheist." And that's how I got sucked in.<br /><br />A couple things about this sort of interaction offend my sensibilities. The first is the overweening arrogance of these 20 year-olds thinking they've got something worth sharing on the subject of belief. I outright said, "I'm 48 years old. What could you possibly tell me about Jesus that I haven't heard before?" Predictably, all they had in response was platitudes about "opening your heart".<br /><br />The other is the pathetic inability to acknowledge the particular harm this belief system has done. I don't like to lead with the gay thing because it feels like a bit of a cop-out--I think I'd still be an atheist even if I were straight. But the truth is that being told from an early age that there was no room for faggots in Heaven has forever coloured my attitudes toward Christianity.<br /><br />I made this point indirectly when I told a young man who'd come to the aid of his struggling co-prosyletiser, telling him I'd be fine with people believing whatever they wanted if it didn't invade the political realm. He admitted to me that there was no way of preventing his morality from informing his political beliefs and I don't really think he was able to think through the consequences of that for a queer atheist like me.<br /><br />When they saw how het up I was getting, they abandoned ship and wished me a good day. This was another sort of harm: You've got to realise when you're confronting others with your Christian beliefs that you may be forcing them to deal with difficult, painful, and even traumatic experiences. To do that and then not be prepared or willing to deal with the consequences is shitty.<br /><br />I pondered these things while wolfing down my sandwich and eventually decided to go back...and apologise. Regardless of how ill-though-out their approach was, it wasn't ill-intentioned. And regardless of the unfairness of the situation, I wasn't happy with how I'd handled it. But I couldn't locate the faces of the pair who'd talked to me in the crowd; the pamphleteers were different (and took "no" for an answer this time). So no closure for me, just a resolution to think this through so that I'm better prepared next time.<br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=muckefuck&ditemid=1384898" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> commentstag:dreamwidth.org,2017-04-10:3016772:1377467Other people's crimes2019-03-19T17:18:16Z2019-03-19T17:18:16Zpublic4I'm having a hard time keeping my eyes open today so I started a fight online just to have something stimulating to do. It's yet another round with the one remaining Trumpite on my flist, an old high-school acquaintance living out in Colorado with his guns and his dogs. After a recent exchange of barbs, someone he knows asked, "Why are you even friends?" and he gave a surprisingly lengthy and complimentary response. He doesn't seem to realise that I wouldn't respond in kind.<br /><br />Ultimately, I suspect he's really lonely and just likes that <i>someone</i> is paying attention to him. He goes out of his way to bait me and insult my intelligence, then claims he respects me in spite of our political differences. In short, one of those douchebros who thinks friendship somehow transcends "politics". He's not a friend, though; he's just someone I keep around in the hopes of gleaning some insight into the 42% of my country who can gaze at the disaster which is Trump and somehow see a great leader.<br /><br />There's not much to be gleaned there, of course, but I did have one small insight today: Conservative Christianity's vitriolic condemnation of homosexuality made a lot more sense to me when someone pointed out that it's a "sin" most preachers can safely condemn because they know they'll never be prey to it. (And of course this puts pressure on those who <i>are</i> prey to it to condemn it all the harder.) They're too avaricious to condemn avarice, too adulterous to condemn adultery, but homosexuality is fair game, no matter how low it was on Christ's list of priorities.<br /><br />So it is with "illegal immigration". Most of the conservative criticisms I see lately seem to focus on the "illegal" aspect. Crime is crime, can't argue with that! This guy in particular even went so far as to go easy on visa-overstayers because "at least they entered legally". But these "invaders" who "sneak" across the borders are "common criminals". Yet I doubt their condemnation of illegality runs very deep. You get the feeling that these are the same good ol' boys who would brag about getting one over on the Feds and other interfering authority figures.<br /><br />But they were all born here and they're never going to leave so "illegal immigration" is something they can fulminate against with impunity. I suspect that my acquaintance is willing to forgive visa-overstayers because he knows a few personally and thinks they're fine fellows. Or just possibly he's possessed of enough imagination to picture himself going abroad for some reason and hanging around a while without dotting every i down at the police office.<br /><br />But one thing he obviously can't imagine is being faced with a situation serious enough to force him to flee his native country, even if this means violating the statutes of his destination and facing jail time or worse. It's the old empathy deficit that still has no solution I can see. He doesn't even have sympathy for impoverished white people in small Missouri towns (though he'll claim to if he can use that as a cudgel to bash "invaders"), how can he ever pretend to care for people with lives completely unlike his own?<br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=muckefuck&ditemid=1377467" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> commentstag:dreamwidth.org,2017-04-10:3016772:1365302It's just me and my hand tonight2018-11-27T23:41:23Z2018-11-27T23:41:23Zpublic0Well, dang. Postillero just texted to cancel our date tonight. He's got a trip in the morning and he's freaking out about not being ready. Which is totally reasonable. But desire drives one to do things which aren't reasonable--like keep an assignation even though you've got to be up early in the morning. And it hurts to not be as desired as you thought.<br /><br />It also doesn't help that this is only the most recent in a string a such incidents. Last week, knowing I'd have some time off, I messaged Clueless Furball asking for the book I lent him back. I might have given it to him as an excuse for contacting him, but I'd concluded that that gambit had failed and I really did just want my book back. He invited me to come over on Friday afternoon to pick up the book, even though he's working nights and would be trying to sleep, letting drop in passing that he kept it in plain view in his bedroom.<br /><br />This was ambiguous enough to give me hope--enough hope that I even slipped a couple of rubbers into my bag, just in case. I like to do things like that to make myself feel even stupider when things don't pan out, which in this case they of course didn't. I did get to see him in a Pusheen onesie, which was fucking adorable, as he met me at the door to the foyer to hand over the goods. And then he had to go and kiss me and remind me that kissing him is far more fun than I'd remembered and dammit if I might not be stuck pining for him just a little longer.<br /><br />And since these things never come singly, at the same time I also made contact with another big boy I'd made out with all the way back in the summer. He was pursuing me aggressively for several weeks, but I was ambivalent. Then Postillero showed up and I felt like I had things covered, so I let him drop. I felt bad about it, though, so I touched base with him again on Wednesday. I thought he might well tell me to go pound sand--as he'd be entirely justified to--but instead he was friendly. Then on Thursday night, he sent me a passive-aggressive "wanna-fuck" and when I begged off got aggressive-aggressive. Ironically, I'd already been planning to propose we get together the next day and I followed through with that, but it was too little too late and I haven't heard from him again.<br /><br />Then Saturday, the same sort of thing happened again, this time with a boy I met through Liver Ladoo back in June and who'd made himself scarce ever since. He called me as I was leaving Friendsgiving and we agreed to meet up for "dessert" after he finished dinner. That led to a nightcap at Touché which I hoped would lead back to some fun at my place but didn't. I thought about making a pissy reply the next day when he messaged to ask if I'd gone back to the bar after he'd bailed and decide I didn't really care enough about the situation to do that.<br /><br />And there's more to come. The same evening back in summer when I made out with that one guy, I met a moustachioed daddy just in town for Belly Rub Weekend. This was just after my oral surgery and I wasn't up to much so I told him I'd catch him next time he was visiting Chicago. That's this coming weekend. Some time ago we made plans for some afternoon delight on Saturday and he asked me to send pictures of my junk to get his motor ready. I did, he reciprocated, and then I suddenly stopped getting replies. So do we still have plans or what? I don't know and I only want to know if the answer is "yes" so I haven't contacted him. He'll remember or he won't, right? And I've got cocktails planned for that evening anyway so whatever happens I won't just be sitting at home crying into my beer.<br /><br />It's exhausting, finding this sweet spot where you stay interested enough that you actually keep creating opportunities (and get into things if they actually do happen) but maintaining enough remove that when they fall through, you shrug and move on. I'm not sure how much patience I have for it at this stage of life, to be honest. Ironically, when I told Ladoo about Postillero, he teased me about doing just fine without going on any apps. Which I thought was true, but I wonder. Are they are a low-cost way of multiplying opportunities (increasing my chances that at least one of these will come to fruition) or just a gateway to more disappointment?<br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=muckefuck&ditemid=1365302" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> commentstag:dreamwidth.org,2017-04-10:3016772:1360833Baggage2018-10-11T19:49:00Z2018-10-11T19:49:00Zpublic0A couple more musings on the family visit:<ul><li>I still wish I hadn't lost my shit with Crazy Brother for pestering me about coming to his ill-conceived game night. It did have one potential side benefit in that it happened in the car with Dad and Stepmom, so when I ranted about how stressful it is for me to come down and have to try to conform to everyone else's agenda without ever being allowed one of my own, even when my husband has just died, she heard every word. It's the closest I've ever gotten to letting her know how disappointed I was in her two years ago.</li><li>I'm still ambivalent about coming for Christmas. Being able to do exactly whatever the fuck I wanted to do on the 25th for pretty much the first time ever was so amazing that it's going to be hard to squeeze myself back into that box. But OGI asked me point blank "Are you coming for Christmas?" and since I'd already kinda decided to I said, "Yes" and now if I back out I'll be lying to my favourite nephew who's only 10 and that is just not my brand.</li><li>Speaking of the niblings, I was so shocked with how chunky AWI's gotten that I mentioned it to my mom and she dropped the bomb that he's now prediabetic. Sis brought it up, too, in the midst of cataloging her troubles, because of course she feels like a rotten mother and I'm not sure why that made me feel more of a stab of empathy for her than the other things. When I told Mom I was puzzled because that family eats pretty healthy she pointed out it's not what he eats but how much he eats. I confided in her that one of the main things keeping me fit is trying to make the boys happy but AWI shows all the interest in romance of a Weeping Angel, so that's probably out as a motivator.</li><li>United Provisions has gotten annoying. Since I was feeling punk on Sunday, I told Stepmom I just wanted some soup from the Bread Co. in the Loop. Except there's no Bread Co. in the Loop any more, so when pressed for an alternative, I ended up picking UP. They did have soup, but (a) you had to microwave it yourself and (b) there's no place in the store to sit and eat, so Dad and I ended up crouching in the entryway like bums to slurp our ramen. It was decent quality and their selection of foreign groceries is still ace but it's odd to see a high-end grocery move <i>away</i> from encouraging people to dine in and I hope it doesn't bode ill.</li></ul><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=muckefuck&ditemid=1360833" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> commentstag:dreamwidth.org,2017-04-10:3016772:1359622Mój cyrk2018-09-28T21:48:05Z2018-09-28T21:48:05Zpublic1I unwisely let myself get dragged into some family drama yesterday. My stepmom is out of town until tomorrow evening so Sis wanted Dad to come stay with her for two nights. He balked, so she went and stayed with him instead and then asked me to try to convince him to change his mind. That went about as well as any attempt to change Dad's mind has ever gone, viz. he told me I was pissing him off and ended the call. If I'd been a little less tired, maybe I'd've been able to softsoap him more, but I just don't have much patience for his shit. You can't remember what day it is and when your wife is getting back, but you'll know the day and hour when you can no longer take care of yourself without assistance. Okay, sure.<br /><br />The thing is, I can understand his viewpoint: He would literally rather die than sacrifice an ounce of autonomy before it's absolutely necessary (and perhaps not even then). When Monshu was dying, it was of utmost importance to me that we did everything we could to respect his dignity and that meant leaving all important decisions to him. Of course, the difference there was that he was completely lucid literally until he drew his last breath whereas Dad has dementia. He hates it when we point that out (which is why the call ended how it did), but it complicates everything.<br /><br />But as stubborn as Dad is, Sis matches him with her bossiness. It really is immovable object meets irresistible force. Both accuse of the other of ruining what time they have left together; both of them have a point. I'm content to let Dad enjoy his last days on his own terms; if that means he dies months before he would have otherwise, so be it. But Sis can't do that. It occurs to me now that when we were kids and we resented her for being his favourite, maybe what was really going on was that he was <i>her</i> favourite and he treated her so favourably because she was willing to go above and beyond what me and my brothers would to please him.<br /><br />This may be my circus, but they are not my monkeys. Next time there's a clash, they can work it out without me; I don't think the ultimate result will be any different. I already wasn't looking forward to visiting next weekend, so much so that I was about to try putting it off for several more weeks. Instead I just want to get it over with. I promise I'd visit, so I'll visit, but then it's back to my real life here.<br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=muckefuck&ditemid=1359622" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments