Lost Weekend
Saturday morning is spent with laundry matters. God, I spent so much money on clothes while I was away. I have practically a whole new wardrobe.
And as time goes on I get angrier and angrier with Keith as I discover things around the house. I know this is unfair and petty as he's done me more than a good turn by house-sitting for me but I'm completely up in arms about some of things he's done and not done whilst he's been here. And I know that I'm also taking it out on him for not falling in with my fantasies. Oh, God this is crap.
Afternoon and I've arranged to meet James II for a drink at The Village. I'm still sort of woosey with jet lag but I figure that a social trip into town will prepare me for Monday morning and work.
It's a beautiful sunny day so hanging out in a gay bar and chatting is almost like being back in San Franciso. And, of course, I get some of the lowdown from James II of events of the past four weeks while I've been away. So, I do my listening bit.
Then, suddenly, there's a phone call for James on his mobile and he's off into the street to take it. And just as suddenly he's back and I should have known from the body language (his shoulders have dropped about four inches) what's happened and he's thrusting the phone into my hands and telling me to say "Hi" and I'm saying "To who?" and he says "James. You might tell him Congratulations. We're back together again." And I'm like "What?"! I don't really want to speak to James I - or at least not like this under these circumstances but we manage some forced communication - enough for me to know that he's not the happiest of bunnies - worryingly so.
Oh, this is crap. I can just see this stately pavane where the two of them dance up towards each other and dance away again time after time. It's like watching a head on train crash in slow motion. They both want each other so much at some level and yet at another have ways of behaving and being that drive the other nuts. Like the last thing that James I will have needed will have been to have me shoved under his nose to congratulate him but James II is too effervescent to even know there's an issue here to be addressed.
Then James II needs to be debriefed and at some point he calls me "one of his mentors" and he totally misreads the look on my face because the last thing I want to be is anyone's mentor and one of the great things about being in the States was that I was no-one's mentor.
Back home eventually and Keith arrives and is obviously in a state and we talk about him and Phillipe and I do my best to put things into context for him. And part of me wants to smack him and part of me wants to hug him.
So, at some point I tell him some of things that have been going down for me about him. And we both tell each other, in a loving way, some home truths about each other. But throughout it all, the one thing Keith never says (though he should) is to re-iterate that he will never have back me as a partner ever again. And I wish he would because it would show that he can stand up to me. And for that reason alone, the fact that he can't stand up to me, any relationship we might have would be flawed beyond repair.
It's crap, isn't it. He doesn't stand up to me, so any relationship wouldn't work. If he did stand up to me, we wouldn't have a relationship. Lose, lose. Classic.
So, by 11 o'clock, having been sluggish all day, I get this burst of energy that keeps me awake til gone 3am. And I hit the pits. A real case of the blue meanies where life seems totally pointless. Keith does what he can to reassure me but in reality I'm off on a planet of my own.
Keith tells me that I thrashed the night away in a very disturbed sleep, alternately snoring and burbling.
And today, Sunday, I've been a total washout. I've been gardening and tidying and washing. My digestive system has collapsed on me. And I feel so hollow and empty and cold and lonely and in pain. And which bits are jet lag or grief or general weltschmertz, I am beyond caring. And tomorrow is work.