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Aug. 14th, 2019 04:17 pm
La historia interminable
So the title of this post is borrowed from the title of the Spanish translation of Die undendliche Geschichte. Unlike its English cognate, interminable has no negative connotations in Spanish; it's just a neutral way of describing something never-ending. But I can't resist double entendres, especially when it comes to naming these posts.
Handsome Bastard and I did not go out last night. By the time he got in touch, he'd already committed to working that evening. Did he accept the job because he thought I was blowing him off? Or would he have accepted it even if we'd made firm plans? And does it matter? I felt a little miffed and then I checked my full-time-with-benefits privilege and remembered that most people younger than me (and a depressing number my age or over) have no choice but to chase cash-earning opportunities whenever they can.
The evening seemed a bit ill-starred anyway, since when I did hear from him later, it was after his hellish commute home and it was cut short by some sad family news. (I assume a death, but he didn't elabourate and I won't press.) So it was just as well that went forward with my usual Tuesday routine and had dinner at Sea Ranch. Afterwards, I didn't something I haven't in far too long and took a long walk after dinner.
We were half hoping for storms to soak the lawn and garden but they sideswiped us. Unfortunately I was late in realising that this would mean potentially gorgeous clouds in the east. By the time I reached the shore, the light had faded, though at least I had a few brilliant glimpses on the way. The surf was still up and I spent some enchanted moments listening to it before heading back and catching up with the neighbours.
HB's job, btw, was a shoot on the South Side. Specifically, a Disney's Aladdin-themed quinceañera on Wooded Isle, in the Japanese garden which--when I wasn't paying attention--was renamed "Garden of the Phoenix". (Nice branding there, UofC.) I think he was a bit scandalised to discover that it had been a hotbed of cruising back in the day. The storms which missed us on the North Side eventually drove them out, but not before they manage to wrap up.
In any case, fast forward to this afternoon. I'd basically given up on having him respond to the "get in touch when you can" message I'd left before leaving the house this morning. But respond he did and he seemed genuinely delighted when I revealed that I'm taking tomorrow off (though not why). We made tentative plans to get together before my dinner with Nuphy.
So I'm letting myself be a little giddy. Later I'll remind me that--based on prior experience with Chicago Beardom--the actual changes of getting together even with firm plans is probably only 50/50. Frankly, I'm thankful that at my age (and after some of the shit I've been through) I can still feel a little infatuated now and again.
Handsome Bastard and I did not go out last night. By the time he got in touch, he'd already committed to working that evening. Did he accept the job because he thought I was blowing him off? Or would he have accepted it even if we'd made firm plans? And does it matter? I felt a little miffed and then I checked my full-time-with-benefits privilege and remembered that most people younger than me (and a depressing number my age or over) have no choice but to chase cash-earning opportunities whenever they can.
The evening seemed a bit ill-starred anyway, since when I did hear from him later, it was after his hellish commute home and it was cut short by some sad family news. (I assume a death, but he didn't elabourate and I won't press.) So it was just as well that went forward with my usual Tuesday routine and had dinner at Sea Ranch. Afterwards, I didn't something I haven't in far too long and took a long walk after dinner.
We were half hoping for storms to soak the lawn and garden but they sideswiped us. Unfortunately I was late in realising that this would mean potentially gorgeous clouds in the east. By the time I reached the shore, the light had faded, though at least I had a few brilliant glimpses on the way. The surf was still up and I spent some enchanted moments listening to it before heading back and catching up with the neighbours.
HB's job, btw, was a shoot on the South Side. Specifically, a Disney's Aladdin-themed quinceañera on Wooded Isle, in the Japanese garden which--when I wasn't paying attention--was renamed "Garden of the Phoenix". (Nice branding there, UofC.) I think he was a bit scandalised to discover that it had been a hotbed of cruising back in the day. The storms which missed us on the North Side eventually drove them out, but not before they manage to wrap up.
In any case, fast forward to this afternoon. I'd basically given up on having him respond to the "get in touch when you can" message I'd left before leaving the house this morning. But respond he did and he seemed genuinely delighted when I revealed that I'm taking tomorrow off (though not why). We made tentative plans to get together before my dinner with Nuphy.
So I'm letting myself be a little giddy. Later I'll remind me that--based on prior experience with Chicago Beardom--the actual changes of getting together even with firm plans is probably only 50/50. Frankly, I'm thankful that at my age (and after some of the shit I've been through) I can still feel a little infatuated now and again.
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