Bruce the Blizzardette

Yesterday we had our first proper snow of the season. It was billed as a "blizzard" and apparently in some parts of the outer suburbs it was one. Even some people in city lost power, though the ones close to me were all located west of Ridge. As far as my little corner was concerned, it was much ado about very little.

Sunday was a blustery day of cold rain. I was very happy at having down my shopping earlier and not having to run out for anything. Toward evening the wind picked up and was howling theatrically but the rain stubbornly stayed wet. I remember waking at about 3 a.m. and checking to see if anything had changed and it hadn't. 7 a.m. was a different story.

It was a classic Winter Wonderland effect, with wet snow clinging to trees and fixtures in a shining mantle. Closer to the Lake winds had blasted one side of everything while stripping the other, but in our little dell we had a picturesque coat over everything. The same was true on the sheltered south side of the Library and I took some lovely pictures of the sunken garden.

By noon, accumulation had ended and the temperatures plummeted. I was glad to hear that one of the good neighbours had shoveled the walks while I was away before they could become crusty ice sheets. I was less happy to hear that the locks of the gates were freezing since a big selling point to these pricey Swedish locks was supposed to be their resistance to cold. Oh well; one more thing to hash out at the condo meeting on Thursday.

It's just me and my hand tonight

Well, 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?