my boring life story

Did not do meat-sorting tonight. It got delayed a day. But at some point, L was over at Neighbor’s, and she came back with some salmon he’d found in his freezer. Sent specifically for me.

It’s a thing with us, for some reason. One of the castoffs that is frequently in the meat hauls is a bunch of packets of smoked salmon — you know, the thin sheets? Also some of a slightly different cut. He and I both like salmon, and pretty early on we sort of mutually agreed to divide them between us. One time he even took it upon himself to add one of the alternative cut to my carry-home bag when my back was turned.

Well, this past week there was no salmon. I still have some steelhead and I figured out a second way to eat it, so I was getting by insofar as seafood is concerned. But apparently this turned up in his freezer so he decided to send it over. Or half of it. Whichever. He knows I had a good haul last week, and he thought of me anyway.

He is making it very difficult to not like him.

Not that I’m exactly making much of an effort.

I want to do something nice for him. I don’t know yet what that will be. I mean, yes, the scutwork, but he’s paying me for that. (Still rueful about losing the $100 a week but honestly, I felt like I was fleecing him.) Something will hopefully occur to me.

Carrie messaged me Friday to tell me she’d shipped my package. This morning I woke with a jolt wondering whether I had mailed myself what was in the large flat purple boxes. I can’t remember if I did. I will have to dig through my stuff to find out because a specific thing will be in there if I did. Just looked at the tracking and the package is in Texas. Allegedly it is supposed to get here Thursday. Carrie had said she’d send the few things I left at her house, but apparently Dad also wanted to send some stuff, and I have no idea what that means. This could end up being a big box. Good thing L just got a new vehicle. And Neighbor has his truck, if it comes down to that. I could have asked. I’d rather leave it a surprise. I’ll likely be disappointed in whatever he sends, anyway. Or it’ll be some kind of a mindfuck. Oh well. I was enjoying becoming sane. Count on Dad, I guess.

I managed to spend my entire $45 ($5 sent to Chime to square my Being In The Hole) at Walmart today. Bit embarrassing, but I wanted to make sure I’d be okay for a bit.

Shark week is ongoing, started a few days ago. Had an unpleasant moment yesterday on my first attempt to go to Wally World where I was sure I was going to have an accident if I kept going, so I came back here. Thankfully the gush happened maybe halfway to the mailbox intersection, if that far. Could have been worse. But it’s been a lot more peaceful today, including when I made the two-point-something-mile trek there. Whew. I don’t know if it’s the dietary change. I just hope it’s over by the time the weekend thing happens in two more weekends. There will be a hot tub. If I can even get a swimsuit together before then. I will at least attempt the shorts and throw a tshirt on. I can do that.

Okay. I need a drink, I need to wash a few dishes, and I need to think about bed. And I probably should write tomorrow. This is getting silly.

I’m writing this after 1am on the 9th but unless you want to hear about me going pee and washing some dishes, let’s pretend I wrote this on the 8th. Sound good? I think so too.

Okay. Meat Night #1 went well; Meat Night #2 went well. Five items for scutwork, so $50 this week. Phone’s paid for the month so I won’t go so far as to say what I’ve got’s all gravy, but I’m a little better off than I was. Food supply solid for now. I even got maple-flavored breakfast sausage. It is quite tasty.

Lots more bear activity. So far, they’re just scared of me. So far, I handle the dogs okay if bears are out when I walk them, which normally I do after the meat-sorting, except last week when everything started late. I must admit I really enjoy seeing the gigantic forest floof doggos. I get why they’re classified as caniform.

(Black bears, not grizzly. I’d be more afraid if we were dealing with grizzlies.)

(And black bears are not THAT gigantic, except the older males.)

Weekly scutwork finished today. Neighbor and I went to the dump for the weekly trash run. I actually asked him this time, as he was about to get in the truck on the driver’s side, whether he wanted me to drive this time and he said, “nah…” I’m a little confused about that. I will not at all complain if he decides we’ll keep doing this together so as to have a bit of social hour; today he regaled me with questions about my time in the Army. He’s like that. Honestly I’ve never known a dude that curious about me, and it isn’t just “tell me about yourself,” which always was a lazy cop-out. It’s specific questions. A gal could let it go to her head, if I didn’t already know this is a thing with him. But… I feel like, if you pay attention to the questions someone asks you about yourself, sometimes you learn something new about them. Or they’ll just volunteer the information. Turns out he considered joining the Navy for their nuclear officer program (submarines, from what he said), but in the end he didn’t think he’d be able to adjust to the lifestyle, and then he ended up with Crohn’s in his late twenties anyway.

(He asked me whether he’d have had a shot at decent care had he been in the Navy when it happened. I explained about VA care versus military care and pointed out that as in the civilian world, quality of care varies widely depending on where you are. Plus, when he was twenty-seven, most people had never heard of Crohn’s. As it was, the first civilian facility he went to was not doing right by him, and his mother yanked him out and took him to a university hospital which was much better. And so he is here with us today, and we all say thankya.)

He probably better watch it though because if I get much braver, I may start asking him questions.

Don’t worry. I won’t be creepy about it.

I still feel suspicious something is developing there. I probably shouldn’t feel that way. I don’t think “shoulds” really enter into it. I’m not going to push or even ask. I’m just going to experience and observe. If this is just him being kinder and more curious than the average bear and he’s like that with everyone, great. If this is just him seeing if he can make a new friend, fabulous. If it’s something more than that, then he’s going to have to say so; that will be one question I don’t ask. Everyone who ever told me I moved too fast into relationships can kiss my ass. We’ll ignore the fact I probably don’t have another thirty years on this earth and have wasted too much time already. I don’t feel like rushing it this time. Because I always get it wrong. At least if I somehow still get it wrong this time, it won’t be my fault. Or at least not for that specific reason.

That assumes, of course, that something doesn’t kick over with S. I don’t want to be like that but goddamn it, it’s like I said before: it may come down to who’s braver. Or who actually feels some particular way, which Neighbor very likely doesn’t. Well, I’ve got less than three weeks ’til we start maybe seeing answers to that question. I am not even going to try to predict the outcome.

S did tell me I was lovely (or, rather, an old pic of me was lovely), though, by liking the comment where someone else said it. I wonder if he knows I noticed…

So, got paid for the scutwork last week. I forget which day but basically I messaged Neighbor to ask about going to the dump because he hadn’t said anything about the weekly trash haul but I thought there probably wasn’t enough for him to want to bother with. I was right, but me asking jogged his memory and he sent the $40. So I got my phone bill paid and also laid in some supplies and got a tub of spreadable cream cheese. Nice to have something a little bit different.

Neighbor only got part of the meat haul last night. He’s going back to Oregon tonight to snag the rest of it. I got lucky, though. If I don’t get any more food tonight, I got enough last night that I’ll be okay for the week. And we already got two scutwork items, so that’s $20 I know I’m getting, and that’ll see me through to next week. At this point I’m hoping for more frozen items. I was really running on fumes with the food supply but then realized I’d forgotten about a couple packs of boneless pork chops in the freezer, which for a while I had thought were L’s. But I get a sense she’s not that crazy about pork if it’s not bacon. Seems to prefer lamb. I also like lamb, but I can take it or leave it. So she gets hers and I get mine. It’s cool. I want to branch out a bit with seasoning — I’m thinking that if I can get about $20 ahead some week soon, I may order Roastmary for the first time in thirty fucking years (just about). Because it’s still available! This stuff is incredible. I’ve done up pork chops with it before and they were just [chef’s kiss]. Sooooo we’ll see.

I am thinking I’m going to wean off caffeine. L told me weeks ago that she generally avoids it because something had dried up for her — saliva? tear production? both? — and her doctor told her that can happen in menopausal women on caffeine. Apparently in her case, quitting it helped. I know I can still produce tears because my eyes are not constantly red, and I still produce saliva, but everything feels drier in my face than it used to. Plus, me being this dependent on caffeine es no bueno. I don’t seem to get serious headaches anymore — my brain’s few attempts to kick up a migraine since I got here have been feeble at best — but caffeine withdrawal used to be a trigger for them and I don’t want to find out the hard way if that’s still true. But anyway, I found an affordable way to do the weaning without investing in jars of instant for the withdrawal process. I will likely still do morning coffee after that, but just the three cups like I’m doing now, and with cinnamon. I love that shit.

Aunt Flo’s still trying to make up her literally bloody mind whether she’s going to drop in. Hope either she gets the fuck on with it later this week (after I get paid again, PLEASE, though I think I could manage with what’s in the account plus SpotMe if I had to) or goes the fuck away for another two or three months, because there will be a hot tub on premises for the meeting later this month and I’ll be fucked if I have to opt out. Yes, yes, I know what they say about hot tubs and diabetics. That’s people with neuropathy at risk of burns. I don’t have neuropathy, so fuck you. But I have rotten luck with tampons, even the super ones, so if Aunt Flo is harassing me that week then I’ll have to find something else to do when everyone’s in there. Knitting, probably. Why the hell not.

Speaking of which. I have been debating with myself for months on what to do with my remaining yarn. God — for years, I had both an impressive book collection AND an impressive yarn collection. Both all gone now. Handful of books left, my favorite yarns left, not a lot in either case. I need to make things from the yarn and get it gone. Probably will make them for sale. Mentioning this out loud on Facebook may have landed me some work making hats for a specific person, but we’ll see if she ever gets back to me about it. I’m not getting my hopes up. And this is one of many reasons I don’t normally open myself to commissions. People flake, even with the best of intentions. Sometimes they wait til you’re done to flake. That’s the absolute fucking worst. I got lucky once in that I was able to sell a requested pair of socks I knitted (thanks so fucking much, LaRay… fuck off) to a different person via Etsy when the original customer didn’t follow through. Won’t always be able to do that. Or, I dunno, I guess we’ll see.

But ANYWAY, so I’m finally knitting that damned llama yarn. Hats. Alpaca felts really easily, and llama wool is close enough to alpaca that I didn’t want to chance it as mittens or something. Hats involve less friction in the first place. I figure I can probably get about three hats out of my llama supply, and then I can go on to the alpaca. I have four colors of the alpaca, so I’m hoping to do some striping or some other kind of color change. I may not even use all the llama by itself because one of the alpaca colors is brown (the others are two shades of gray and a black), and I may add in a llama stripe to a brown alpaca hat or something. We’ll see.

Lots of brouhaha going on because they’re letting men compete in women’s sports in the Olympics this year. Worst of all, they allowed them into women’s boxing. I had some choice words about that on my Substack, and this is the most popular post I’ve published there yet. I should point out I’ve got about 115 subscribers right now and, last I looked, there are 57 likes on that post. I doubt everyone who liked the post is a subscriber, but since I put it up I’ve been getting daily emails about new free subscribers. So something is going on. I’m a little weirded out, but it’s pretty cool, too. I just wish I’d get that kind of engagement for other things I write. This is just where we are right now. People are sick of being lied to. It’s not even about being anti-gay. The concept of trans, at least as currently applied, is homophobic as hell and a lot of gay men and lesbians are pissed the fuck off about it, and lots of straight people are pissed off on their behalf as well. Lesbians being overrepresented in women’s sports, this is becoming twice as harmful to them. The “Pride” crowd does not give one single sweet shit. This will not end well.

I need to get on the ball with my two women-related projects. I’m dragging feet because I fear putting in effort only for it to go nowhere. Like everything else in my life. If anyone ever wonders why it seems like I don’t do anything, it’s because every time I do something it gets fucking ignored, UNLESS it is a negative or bad thing, and then that’s what I become known for. Fucking bullshit. I know this happens to women a lot, but there’s no fucking excuse. If Charles fucking Manson could get married in prison to a woman he never met outside of it, y’all can start noticing when I do good and/or useful things. I don’t need a prize or any fucking thing like that. I just need to not exist in a vacuum. It has really done a number on my mental health over the course of my life. My parents never should have built me up as The Smart Kid. No one gives two fucks whether a woman is smart. Ever. At best, they notice our work and fucking steal it. But usually, we just don’t exist.

But I should do it anyway. In case it turns out that THIS TIME I’m wrong.

Still pleased as hell that S referred readers to me. That was amazing. Once in a very great while a woman will call attention to whatever I’m doing but normally, dudes don’t bother. And you know what? I’m going to go thank him. I don’t think I did that explicitly enough and directly enough before. Time to fix it.

Got the rest of the scutwork done. There is a lot of busy-ness going on right now with the upcoming thing in August and I have a feeling I’m going to have to be like “HELLO ARE YOU FORGETTING SOMETHING” before we get either the dump run OR my pay done. And it’s going to be forty bucks as it is. Better than last week, but not by much and I need to hang on to some of it for my phone bill in case next week is an utter wash.

Neighbor sent over the salmon we talked about with L yesterday. She also came back to the house (this isn’t home) with a big bag of blueberries and I immediately knew what it was. It’s been in Neighbor’s freezer since his mother was alive and she was the one who acquired them and put them there. He told me and Mac (and Mac’s father, I think?) about it Monday night. Anyway, L likes to make berry crumble for him, so that’s what she did and he had a bowl of it before he left. They got in some Sitting Near One Another time on the sofa as well — I want to call it “cuddling,” because it just about was. God, why didn’t I make it stick the first time I dumped Matt? I could have found someone to do that with by now and I wouldn’t be here. Even in my current state of Being An Old Misery, I still find some things to like about here, but it’s fucking lonely and I’m so tired of that.

Finally figured out applying for a job at Walmart. My logic was as follows: At least now I have applied. Even if they say no or I never hear from them, I have applied. If they say yes, not only have I applied, I got a job and I will have regular income. And I can walk to work. That is really important. No worries about missing the bus. No worries about a car breaking down. No having to ask Neighbor if I can use his truck. Just walk and I’m there. Given what the weather supposedly does in wintertime I’ll likely need to do it in rain gear at some point but if I play my cards right, I’ll have a bicycle not very far into this and at least it won’t be as long of a commute in the dreich.

But I refuse to get my hopes up. They probably won’t hire me. It was just putting out feelers, really.

(I had had an application in with Walmart in Louisiana, but couldn’t work out how to get that store info out of my way to apply for a job here. Somehow I managed it this time. Happy accident, I guess.)

Given the way shit usually works out with my life, like as not I’ll get hired and it’ll interfere with going to the August thing I’ve been mentioning but at this point, I only spent $25 to sign up and I could take or leave whether I actually go. It’s been made pretty clear I am just the dogsitter and scutworker and am absolutely nothing else. Fine. Then y’all won’t mind if I go make a living while y’all sit around talking about shit you’re never actually going to do. Yawn.

But anyway.

Ran into someone who’s blocked me on Facebook and I have no fucking idea who they are. Can people just stop doing this shit? If someone has harassed or trolled you, FINE; the block function’s ideal for that. If you’re avoiding a dangerous person, ditto. If someone said something one time that annoyed you? Fuck you. I’m about ready to just shitcan the social media because all people do is use it to be antisocial. Well, most of it anyway. I might figure out a couple things to use or hold onto. I don’t know yet.

“But don’t people annoy you on social media, Dana?”

Yep. And you know what I do? I turn off the post notifications. HOLY SHIT.

Stupid fucking drama whores. “Help! Help! Someone disagreed with me! I’m being oppressed!” Lady, you don’t know shit about me. I don’t know why it makes me so fucking angry when people accuse me of shit I’m not doing, but there it is.

I know what this is. I have absolutely nothing to shore me up against some people’s disapproval. Once in a while someone pipes up and tells me they think highly of me. I always appreciate that — if I feel a bit weird about it — but it’s no substitute for having “your” people who actually like having you around. I have almost forgotten what that’s like. What I remember is that it was mostly facsimile because they only liked me as long as I kissed their asses. I’m not actually sure I’ve ever been genuinely liked. I see men with much worse personality traits than mine manage to rack up all sorts of friends, or at least a supportive social group. I say “fuck” once and everyone’s ready to lynch me.

You can’t be in that sort of situation and then take it in stride when someone rejects you for stupid reasons. Unless you’re a sociopath, maybe. I dunno.

Ugh. Okay. I’m gonna go shower, and then maybe finally eat. I’ve had two slices of cheese today. Trying to make stuff last. Never did hear about the ground beef. When muthafucka won’t even come out and talk to me and has got So Much Going On, I’m afraid to interrupt. UGH I NEED INCOME. Better work on that today too.

Yesterday was meat-sorting day again but there was a disruption in the routine. L and Neighbor went together to Oregon this time and Neighbor meant to do the pickup on the way back. I think they were discussing the local problem of someone wanting to clearcut a bunch of redwoods, etc. down by L’s property for building a subdivision. Neighbor mentioned something about that the day we went to the dump and apparently one of the players is in Oregon. So that was probably it. And they did make the pickup on the way back, though it was a little late. Because it was a little late, the most important break in the routine was I was asked to walk the dogs before we had got done with the sorting. End result was I ended up with one bag of shrimp. Added a couple more things of shrimp after I got done (L walked Hercules but that still left me with three dogs — thanks, L, much “solidarity” there) but no one had thought to set anything aside. Ended up asking Neighbor if I could have some pork chops or something as he was putting away. He seemed surprised but readily agreed. It also turned out there was a fuck of a lot of smoked salmon, which usually we split but hadn’t because I wasn’t standing right the fuck there when they uncovered it in the load. We talked about it some more on the way back to L’s place and he asked if I liked ground beef and mentioned that there was a lot of salmon (I knew; I’d seen it) and that I could pick that stuff up when I came over for the scutwork, but I would have to remind him because he is absent-minded. Well, at least he can admit it. Space case. Like I said. I lived with this for twenty years from Matt so I know what it looks like. Here’s hoping Neighbor does not also have an unhealthy dose of narcissism riding along shotgun. I don’t think so, but it’s early days. Often they hide it.

It was an awful feeling, though, knowing that this is my primary source of food every week and that he knows this is my primary source of food every week and yet he acted like it wasn’t even worth consideration or anything. Which is the absent-mindedness again. But still. If I wondered if there was any interest there, I no longer think so. Even absent-minded men sharpen up a fuck of a lot when it’s about a woman they like.

I don’t think that it is a bad thing to ask for what you need, but I always feel like I have to ask because people don’t give a shit. That’s the bit that hurts. It feels much less bad asking for things from total strangers I’ve just met if the asking is situationally appropriate because I don’t have history with them and don’t expect them to feel any kind of way toward me. People I have any history with? Then it gets thorny. Like, why am I even here when I’m nothing but scenery. The catch-22 is I keep winding up around people for whom I am nothing but scenery, and eventually I get sick of it and move on, so that I never get well-established with any social group and thus am perceived to be worth even less. I don’t know how I get off this fail carousel, but I really really hate it.

Thea went to the Grand Canyon this month and posted about it on Instagram. Dawn, of course, passed it on. Interestingly, I’ve been getting no hits from Colorado the past several days, but did seem to be getting additional Arizona hits. Yeah. They know this site is here. One or both of them looks at it. Speaking of scenery. Just more of the looking for reasons to hate me and absolutely no desire to engage with me as a human being. So, status quo then. But hey, you know what? I have also been to the Grand Canyon. I’ve been lots of places. I had a whole life before I met that asshole that my own daughter does not know about because it never occurred to me to talk about it and she wasn’t even a little curious. I should have seen this turn of events coming years ago. She’s just like him, no conscience at all. She wants to follow rules because it smooths things over for her, that’s it. Same as him. I love her anyway, flippant as that sounds. It’s not something you can just turn off like a switch. I wanted both her and her brother. I love them both. It’s really hard feeling that when you’ve been relegated to Baby-Making Thing and thrown aside when no one needs you anymore.

I could see if I’d been a child-beating alcoholic who constantly verbally berated both of them. That didn’t happen. I am not my parents. Not even the stepparent. I wasn’t a great mother either, but I wasn’t awful, you know? I’ve seen moderately awful. (Neighbor’s seen REALLY awful.) I’ve never even been that. Just mildly fucked up. Survivable. Even thrive-able. My kids and I should still have a relationship now. Should. Hell, I’m still speaking to the woman who once called me a bitch AS A CHILD and made a regular habit of slapping my face. And those are just examples. I should have completely cut her off from July 1992 onward. I didn’t. I’m a masochist or my kids are assholes. Pick one.

There are people coming for the August thing and L thought S would be arriving too. That didn’t sound right to me; S has stated several times he’s got a couple stops to make before he comes down to Crescent City. And last I knew, he’s still in Tanzania. So I DMed him and asked. Sure enough, he is. London, UK from the 14th to the 19th, I think? Then Portland, OR from the 20th to the 22nd. Then he comes down. He’ll be here a day early, not a month early. I’m both disappointed and relieved, haha. I wasn’t quite ready for that introduction yet.

Anyway he and Neighbor are probably both annoyed at me right now for not giving a shit about the Olympics opening ceremony being iNsULtiNg To ChRiStiAnS. It’ll probably be a passing irritation, but it’s not a good time to get social. Let’s let that blow over first. Though S might bring it back up again later. I doubt it. More likely he’ll be busy yammering about politics to anyone who’ll listen. I can get “busy” doing other things and just avoid that whole argument.

Okay. I’ve got to get this salmon et (already had it before yesterday) and then get over to Neighbor’s. Woo. But hey, need the money. May edit this and add more later. No idea.

[edit] Never mind the salmon. The first piece was okay, the second tastes a little weird. Well, we’ve got that “compost pile.” Someone will eat it…

[editedit] Oho, I was mistaken. Colorado has re-entered the chat. Well, it’s probably not like Thea and Matt (and fucking Crys) have moved to Arizona suddenly; why on earth would they have done that? So you have to figure they went home sooner or later. I spied a ding here from Denver from yesterday when I went back and looked.

Can’t stop them, of course. Not really even sure I want to; on the off-chance it’s her and not her fucking father, I don’t mind her keeping up, long as she’s not hate-reading. If she IS hate-reading, there’s nothing I can do about it anyway. I could say some really nasty shit to scare her off, but our relationship is damaged enough, thanks.

Neighbor is over right now because along with cooking him fucking pork chops (and lamb chops, I think? They’re supposed to be for her, but I think they share them), L also bakes him things, particularly berry crumble. This one’s special, I admit; his late mother had put this batch of berries in his freezer. He was telling Mac about them last night. I knew exactly what they were when L pulled them out of her bag when she came back from his place today. That’s great. Just super. Enjoy.

L also brought back the smoked salmon he and I discussed. No ground beef. He may have forgotten. I’ll go over to finish the scutwork tomorrow (got it half done today, and then all that will be left is the trash… he’ll let me know on that one, I think) and ask about the ground beef then. I heard them say they have shit going on, but if I go early enough, that shouldn’t be a problem. Unless it is a problem. I can’t predict anything anymore, really. I can probably stretch my existing food supplies until next Monday, but I sort of doubt it. Yes he’ll pay me, but I have to put some of that aside for the phone bill. I don’t know what next week’s scutwork haul will look like and it could just be one item. No bueno.

I hate to say it but it’s time to get off the caffeine. That shit is four-something a bag store brand and then paying for the half-and-half and sweetener besides. I could be buying something like cream cheese instead. I’ve already worked out a way to do the caffeine wean-off that won’t require me buying two whole-ass jars of instant coffee. Now I just need to make it happen. We’ll see if I get off the drink mix. Probably not, but it’s worth considering. It will make me sad, but spending my money so fast is making me sadder.

I still need more income, and maybe I need to be getting it where I’m not pissing people off. I dunno.

Had the run to the dump (it’s actually a refuse-sorting station) yesterday. Had been told the first time we did this that the second time, I’d be driving. Neighbor seemed to want to drive, though, and I didn’t question it. I am not sure if he forgot or if he just wants to be around my silly self one extra time. Pretty sure he forgot, because on the way back he said we’d go together again one more time and I’d drive. Well, we’ll see. If he seems to forget again, I’ll mention it.

He said that it’d be $25, not $20, for the scutwork. I’d pointed out that it’d looked like three items I’d done when the total workload was more akin to two items so he split the baby and said two and a half. I haven’t gotten it, though. He had a lot going on yesterday and then was going to visit his sister, and still nothing now, so who knows. I’m getting warning signs that Aunt Flo may visit again and I’d like to make sure I am fully supplied (I am okay for a few days if need be), so if I hear nothing by say 9pm or so, I’ll drop him a line. I don’t want to do that, but if he simply forgot, maybe he’ll be OK with being reminded. We’ll see. It’s not $100. He already said he’d do it yesterday. Not my fault even one little bit that he didn’t.

I’m hoping this stupid crush wears off soon. I am feeling a lot more patient with him than I did with Matt when Matt flaked like this, but I have to think a lot of it is just wanting to keep calm waters so I don’t lose my housing. Doesn’t mean I want to be dealing with an absent-minded man on more than a casual basis. It has occurred to me that some of the stupid shit that’s been happening is a way to test to see if I’m a decent person or a psycho. Either way, no bueno. I get that we’re all tired of being treated like shit for bullshit reasons and that it’s fucked our ability to trust but that doesn’t mean I want that shit in my personal life. If I’m ever going to have a man again, I want one with a lot less baggage.

I’ve kind of thought in that direction with S too. He strikes me as a traumatized nervous alcoholic unsure of his own sexuality. WOW, WHAT AWESOME BOYFRIEND MATERIAL. I’d just as soon pet a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. What’s the point? But I also have an idea that when we all get together next month he’s going to be too busy sitting around pontificating about politics to an admiring audience to have much time for me. That’d be cool. It would make things easier.

Hope I remember that when the time comes. My feelings get hurt waaayyyyy too easily.

Oh, related note to the “testing Dana for psycho.” One thing that happened yesterday was that on the way to the dump, Neighbor asked me how my day had gone. I hesitated, trying to think how to describe it, and must have made some sound because he immediately said, “What’s wrong?” like he was dreading the answer. I don’t know what that was about, but I didn’t rise to it. Just sort of smoothed things over and we went on with the conversation. That could have been fucking anything. He’s a survivor of extreme abuse, and that tends to make people hypervigilant, but he’s also done a lot of work on himself in therapy (he says), so it could have been any number of other motivations. It could be the “oh no, we pulled another psycho after all” thing bubbling up. It could be something else entirely. And this is one more reason I wish my crush would wear off. If I have to spend all my time wondering where the hell someone’s coming from and what’s going to happen next, that’s not exactly a recipe for long-term relationship stability. I’m not sure it’s even very helpful in a friendship.

People wonder why I keep to myself so much. It’s really not fucking complicated…

[edit] Oh, okay. He’s paid up now. Whew.

Went and did the scutwork today. A part of it is running to the dump; neither Neighbor nor L seem to use the municipal trash service and, given how far back each is from the road and how difficult it would be for a garbage truck to turn around in either scenario, it’s just as well. Neighbor already showed me the ropes once and we were due to have another session with me driving the pickup, but we had that thing last weekend that got in the way after meat-sorting night came two days late. So it’s two weeks’ worth of stuff, some of it meat wrappers. Yeehaw. But that’s okay. He hasn’t paid me for today yet so I suspect it’ll happen tomorrow. I told him it was more like two items than three because of distribution of things so we’re probably looking at $20 for the week unless he pays me for helping on the trash run too. I won’t push. We’ll see what he says.

Water went off today. It’s well water so this was some mechanism fucking up. Mac fixed it though. It’s nice to know the handyman and not have to go through a landlord.

He also chatted with L about replacing her car. She calls it Enya and I asked her about that today. She said, “Because it’s Caribbean blue.” Ah ha ha ha ha. So we’ll be seeing a vehicle change soon, I imagine.

I miss my car but I don’t miss the repair bills it would have racked up. At least I don’t have four ginormous doggos to transport.

I didn’t mention here, but I cut my hair yesterday. Needed it. I got clippers, one reason I wound up broke again. But I won’t have to pay for a haircut again. I’m sorted. I’ll take it. I look weird with short hair, but I look weird no matter what and I look a hell of a lot worse with my hair hanging down all thin and stringy and half in my face. When this grows out maybe a quarter inch it’ll actually look pretty good. I just have to keep on top of it now.

Neighbor messaged a little while ago. One of the things we get often in the meat sorting is smoked salmon. He and I both like it, so we wind up splitting it. (L also uses it to feed her dogs sometimes, I’ve noticed.) This time around, some of it was warm. He decided to chance it, so that’s what the message was about. He reported that he ate it and felt fine. I said it was probably the being smoked — I mean, that’s why they smoke salmon. Though I realize these days we aren’t using the old-fashioned methods, mostly.

But it’s weird how once in a great while he’ll chat at me randomly like that. Not often enough to get excited about, just the occasional bit of me going “…okay?” in my head. I wish we could have conversations. I realize he’s probably talking to umpty billion people though. L being one of them. But you know me, I don’t go where I’m not wanted or welcome. That way lies misery and I am never doing that again.

Watched Practical Magic this evening for the first time in years. I’m not usually a sucker for the romance genre but I love this film. I better be careful or I’m gonna start going around starry-eyed for no fucking reason whatsoever.

Oh, and side note. Matt’s second wife and I once got into a brief dispute over this movie because I happened to mention that the book story and the film plot are almost two completely different stories. She insisted that no, the film follows the book. What gets me is she’s a college grad with a master’s degree and yet she’s obviously illiterate, senile, or a liar. And this was more than twenty years ago. I wouldn’t be so harsh but she put me through some shit and I’m still a tad bitter about it.

(Another thing, and I can’t remember if it was this week or last week, about Neighbor is that I had to step away to dump some yucky stuff off to the side during the sorting and I came back to find a pack of steelhead in my stuff. He knows I like that too. I’ve said before that I think of him as a kind person. And yet he can seem so indifferent most of the rest of the time. I don’t get it, but I’m probably not meant to get it. Either things will come more clear over time or they won’t. My bet’s on won’t.)

Well, the good news last night was it definitely was not just me and Neighbor, so there was no chance of him asking me about the weekend. I am not sure he would have anyway, but he definitely had no time to do it in that circumstance.

The bad news is there were five fucking people doing the meat-sorting. Me, Neighbor, Mac, and then this woman and man I don’t know. Not that I know any of that bunch, but these were totally new to me. That wasn’t the bad bit. The bad bit was it was constant chatter and chaos, and I’m still learning the ropes. I’m better at sorting than I was when I started and I often don’t need Neighbor’s help to decide where things go, but there are still things I forget or pieces that I’m not sure what to do with. And it was very hard to ask questions with everyone running their fucking mouths randomly.

On top of all that, people kept not asking what boxes were for before putting things into them, and I got the distinct idea someone thought I was misplacing one particular category of sorting-boxes out of stupidity or something. No, hon, it’s not me. I cannot keep track of what YOU are doing if you’re not paying attention either. There’s too much racket and too many fucking moving parts. Period.

But I suspect Neighbor was nearly as overwhelmed as I was. Or possibly more. I haven’t known him long enough to say for sure. There were signs, though.

One of the newbies handed out gloves when we started and seemed hypersensitive to things possibly having gone bad and also spent an inordinate amount of time organizing box halves that are just going to get knocked down again anyway so I have a feeling she might not be back. Fucking hope not. I don’t hate her or anything (I keep feeling like I have to specify this, as people will assign horrifically negative emotions to me that I’m not actually feeling), but she doesn’t get it at all. In fact I’d actually be a little worried she’s gonna blab about the whole situation to the wrong outside party at some point. Probably not, but I have a feeling the risk is not zero. And I hope I’m wrong because if she does blab, ten to one they won’t trace it back to her and they’ll fucking blame me instead. If the timing is all wrong (say, if I’ve just had an argument with L or Neighbor, hypothetically), that’s entirely possible. Not looking forward to it.

Mac had a car full of people and Neighbor got things put up quickly because suddenly he has a ton of freezer space, so Neighbor drove me home. Normally we have some kind of chit-chat. This time not so much. I thought, Well, if he starts a conversation, fine, but I’m not going to make the effort. I can’t do this, y’know? I can’t keep pushing back against polite indifference. Or any sort of indifference, actually.

I’ll say this for him: he does thank me for the help. Rare beastie as far as all that goes. Most people never even notice I’ve done anything, except to the extent they are not yelling at me for NOT doing it. (That was one thing that really pissed me off about Matt three years ago. “You don’t do anything around here,” meanwhile I’m organizing his fucking kitchen. Oh sure, right, those shelving units are INVISIBLE. You fucking clown. God, if you’re not going to notice, don’t TELL me you didn’t notice.)

But the indifference continued today. There was two-thirds as much scutwork available this week as there was last week. He messaged me a little while ago to say he was going to do it. So that’s no money for me this week and I’m in the hole. Not very far — if I need drink mix later this week, I can still get it, as I’ve got four bucks and some change available in SpotMe — but I don’t want to go FARTHER into the hole. If I had known he was going to pull this shit, I would have put off buying certain things this week. I’m angry, and I can’t even tell him I’m angry because he wouldn’t care and I’d be the only one hurt in the end. He’d probably decide I was too crazy to employ any further, or something. I wonder if any of the bozos I’ve known in my life (I am not branding him one yet, but God, he’s tempting me) understand how much I bend over backwards to spare their fucking feelings when they don’t actually deserve it. People look at a woman being outspoken and just assume we’re bitches 24/7/365. Oh no. I pull my punches. I always have. It’s a matter of survival, and I don’t like being an asshole anyway. I know this because every time I’ve been an asshole I spend some inordinate amount of time afterwards trying to justify to myself (and often others) why I had to do it. If I felt good about it I wouldn’t be doing that.

I have an idea for going forward with the scutwork, though. I think I will suggest a price per item and then max it at $100 a week. I think that if I do that, I won’t lose any more work going forward. It seems, also, to be a lot healthier response than just fuming. Hell, he might even be impressed. I’m all about the win-wins. Okay, just sent that to him. We’ll see.

Meanwhile, I have extra time this week to take care of some other possible income sources. I need to do more writing, for one. For another, I need to get the art side of things more sorted than it is… it’s pathetic. I have already put out a call about portrait work. I’m equipped to do smaller portraits that I can actually ship out. I just need to set up the Etsy listing now and I’m good to go. I’m not even going to wait to have something finished to put up. I will just put up examples of my works-in-progress and then we’ll see. And that’ll be another interesting litmus test for “friends.” Will it get a like? Will it get a share? Will I ever hear anything back at all? Dun-dun-DUUUUUNNNNN…

And while I’m at it I suppose I’ll do some paid surveys or something. At least to get out of the hole. That’d be nice.

Some good news: L and I interacted. It was friendly. That’s a relief. I won’t hang too much on it, but I’m not being told to go to hell so I’ll take what I can get.

—

[edit] What do you know. He’s agreed to the new terms. In fact, he only did one item, so I have three left. $30 > zero. I win.

I mean, I actually thought he was being a bit too generous with the $100/week thing. I wasn’t going to argue if he was willing to pay it, but I think he wasn’t expecting to have a slow week on the stuff to process. So this lets us both save face, I guess.

You looking at this, Matt, you asshole? I can fucking negotiate. If you had ever tried that, just ONCE.

Oh well.

I feel a little better than I did. I can’t decide if that’s just being tired of being sad, like your arms getting fatigued when you hold something up for too long, or if I just needed time to sort of unconsciously sort myself out.

I think what really pissed me off about the dinner diss the other day was that there have been zero opportunities for me to hang out with people on a friendly basis without feeling like I am intruding. The dinner would have been a great chance to do that and, hell, even chat with some radfems. L put on this great show when she was insisting I sign up for We The Women of saying that it was a great way to meet radfems. Here was another chance to do that and I was denied it without even any prior consultation. And I have no idea why. If people are too busy during the normal course of the week and then people are shutting me out of social gatherings, what the fuck am I supposed to do?

Making friends at my age is really hard; making friends at my age with my mental limitations, whatever those are, might as well be on the fucking moon. I could try anyway, but another problem I have is the general political situation. It’s not like I know anyone around here enough to trust them to bring them around to visit. For all I know I could pull a secret troon who’s scouting for L and Neighbor so she knows which houses to burn down. It really is that serious. So any socializing I would do would have to be away from the house and probably also in a place that costs money, and even if I had money most of the time, and I don’t, I still wouldn’t feel comfortable doing it because you can’t fucking trust anybody. Even without the potential danger there’s potential High Amounts of Irritation if we have to introduce ourselves with fucking pronouns every time we get together (as in, if I started a Meetup for knitters or something, which has occurred to me).

I mean, I didn’t come here to be ignored. I don’t go anywhere where people are in order to be ignored. It isn’t about status, it’s about just having a normal life again. I wouldn’t care if these two people were complete nobodies; if we were in the same situation but they were blue-collar workers I’d still have certain expectations. Especially as I’m not getting paid for anything but the scutwork job. If this is about not making friends with “the help,” if you’re gonna make me “the help” and nothing else, I want a salary and Social Security taxes. If I’m not gonna get that, take the situation as friends (or at least mutually friendly people) doing nice things for one another and let’s fucking get on with it. One or the other. Shit or get off the pot.

But, hey. If this in-between bullshit is what it is instead, then this is what it is. Additional incentive to get my shit together, I guess: knowing that I’d be able to move somewhere that people actually wanted to have conversations with me. And not just when sorting the meat is boring.

I’m not sure if that place even fucking exists, but I suppose it’s worth a shot.

—

It’s nothing I have to rush unless L decides to kick me out. So far I’m hearing no definite signs that will happen. It occurs to me it would be the epitome of foolishness to throw away this opportunity to get my shit sorted. I don’t believe I am going to have another chance like this unless I cohabit with a man again and that man has a job. The chances of that happening are probably even lower than me getting fucked by Rory McCann. (Which, be fair. I would happily throw away any prospect of future marriage or long-term cohabitation if I could take that man for a tumble. It’s just not going to fucking happen.) So I’ve got to sort it. This is not a bad thing. It will just be a difficult thing. But it’s my own fault. Had I had my shit sorted 30 years ago, hell, I wouldn’t have even married Mike. Might be I’d have found a better guy to marry and actually have an intact family by now. Missed my chance on that. Should not miss the chance for an at least passable retirement. That would just be ridiculous and tragic.

So I still need to play dumb and lay low and also, I need to buckle down. I’ve been lapsing back onto Facebook and there’s really no call for it. They have my fucking contact info if someone really wants to chat with me. If they don’t, I guess I know where I stand. I’ll have a list of names I don’t kick off my friends list when I finally stick my head above the fray for a breather. They’ll be all my recent Messenger conversations. Convenient, that.

(Okay, I’ll make some exceptions. Not many, though.)

I’m just scared, y’know? The other problem with people being inconsiderate flakes is you literally can’t trust anything from them. I can try to make a contingency plan, but it could all go south tomorrow. Thank fuck Doug is just up the road, but even that’s no guarantee of anything; he is also a fucking flake. So… I dunno. Keep putting one foot in front of the other, I guess, and slogging it out and hoping it’s enough.

—

Weight’s down three more pounds. Don’t know if that’s a real drop or just a fucking fluctuation. I’ll try to keep a closer eye on it and we’ll see.

Should test my sugar more often, but I know what it feels like to have it high. I’m pretty much okay from what I can tell. I suppose I could at least do a daily fasting until the strips all run out. I’ve about given up on that high-tech meter. I honestly think it’s too high in error. The control liquid does not prevent that; its “accuracy range” is just too damn wide.

Another metric: I’m noticing deflation in my second chin. I hate to think this means wattles but unfortunately, I think it means wattles. I’ll get that sorted or I won’t — there is nothing wrong with aging, but I’ve looked like shit for years. I want AT LEAST five years where I do not look like shit. Same goes for my body. I’m feeling the deflation there, and there’s going to be loose skin. At MINIMUM it will be where the stretch marks are, and I’ve got plenty. That shit’s got to go. I want five fucking years. I will figure the fuck out how to pay for it.

But first, the actual weight loss. That seems the most pressing thing at present.

Working on it.

—

Well, I guess tonight’s going to be sort of on time? (Meat sorting night.) But it occurs to me I had better get some sort of hands-off lighting for when the days get shorter.

I wonder if I’m going to get questioned about the weekend. If Mac’s there, possibly not. I hope Neighbor’s not expecting some sort of confessional because it’s not happening. I don’t ask him a billion questions about himself. I only really need to ask one right now, and I haven’t even done that. And I won’t. Let me be an old misery and leave me alone, dude… you’ve got what you want, except for your central political cause, but that’s not all up to you anyway.

Oh well. Would you believe it’s taken me all fucking afternoon to write this? Well, it has. So there.

I suspect most of you who read this regularly (hi) already see me on my real-name site and on the social media, so you know what happened between last post and now, but in case you missed something, let me fill in a little bit.

—

So Wednesday was a late night. Called it. Wasn’t all bad, and I don’t mind being at Neighbor’s anyway; one of the reasons we have these weekly get-togethers ended up happening while I was there and I got front-row seats. Then, I was looking at his wall art again and realized that one framed work comprised a grid of tiny squares. Cross-stitch! Not just cross-stitch, a large and really intricate and detailed piece. Expressed my wow and Neighbor said yes, my mother did that, and it took her a year, and such-and-such other pieces on that other wall are hers too. I had looked at the stuff on his walls before, but I had somehow overlooked that. My hat off to her (she has since passed on, and I am not sure when, and in some ways it’s still fresh for him, so I don’t pry). I might manage something that cool one day but I doubt it and anyway, my son wouldn’t exactly show it off to friends years after my death, would he. My daughter certainly wouldn’t. Neighbor’s mom was an awesome woman or Neighbor is just a really loving son. Could be both. Who knows.

I always sound like I am trivializing this shit.

I never said I was a good writer.

I just wish I’d been better. That’s all. Not at writing, I mean. No one gives a shit about that anyway. Well, a few people, but you might say I’m extremely niche. More niche than Neighbor’s writing, and that is saying something. Really though, I wish I’d been a better person, and most of all I wish I’d been a better mom.

—

Thursday L’s two pregnant friends from out of town arrived for the feminist event this weekend. I had been wondering all along whether she’s so distant from me just because she’s introverted, but no… it really depends, doesn’t it. She jumped RIGHT into the role of Devoted Honorary Auntie-To-Be and also talked their ears off. For their part I suppose they seemed nice enough. I’m not sure they knew what to make of me. Fair do’s. I don’t know what to make of me either. No one does. I think I’m just a placeholder if you want to know the truth.

I had had the paid scutwork at Neighbor’s and left from there to go to Walmart because I was nearly out of coffee and drink mix and was circling the drain financially, but I had a few bucks and felt I’d best spend it wisely. While in the store L messaged me wanting to know if I wanted a ride to pick up the pregnant ladies and then (I think this was immediately after) to go to the feminist thing and check in. She was surprised I hadn’t known what time check-in was. Didn’t I get the email? I just looked at it right now, and there isn’t one fucking thing about being there at 4pm, which she seemed to be heavily implying. It all worked out because I had begun walking back when she came the other way and saw me, so I got the ride after all. But I knew it didn’t sound right, the 4pm thing, and now I’m pissed all over again that she’s basically called me stupid for not reading something that wasn’t even in a fucking email. Not so I’d go on a rampage, just one more fucking thing to tally up because shit has just been weird.

—

Yesterday was all right, I guess. I’ve written in more detail about it on my Substack (if you know me, you know where that is; if you don’t, it’s not important) but one thing I didn’t mention is this: I’m tired of every fucking feminist thing being about trans. I GET WHY IT IS, but Jesus Christ, you only need so many of us to be fighting about this 24/7/365 and for the love of fuck, we need SO many other things to be going on AT THE SAME TIME. And the stress from this, from the ridiculousness of having to fight to name our own reality over and over and over in the face of totally unreasonable hostility and violence, is just making us crazy. We’re still not wrong that “trans women” are men. But we’re wrong when we blame leftists for a thoroughly right-wing movement and we are wrong when we say that because “they” are wrong about gender identity then “they” must be wrong about COVID measures or whatever and we are wrong when we say that we need to make friends with Republicans in any real sense. Especially the ones who’ve voted for Trump, like, ever.

And it was like I’d never even interacted with some of the attendees who I’ve been connected with on Facebook for a while. Lynn was the most disappointing. We’ve video-chatted before, goddamn it, and she knows some of what has been going on with me and Thea and, until today, we were still Facebook friends. I don’t need to be worshiped or coddled or centered or anything but the absent-minded “oh hi” shit and then wandering off or not carrying on the conversation like she finds me irritating or something? God. Most of them that I talked to weren’t that bad but none of them wanted to exchange contact info either, and I was half relieved because I’m tired of having to explain over and over how to spell my name. I need TERF business cards or something.

Or not.

L had mentioned at some point that she was going to take some attendees over to Neighbor’s house to meet him; his writing niche is one this movement butts up against and quite a few of the participants are aware of him, because he gives more than half a shit about the welfare of women and girls. Good little mama’s boy, that one, and in a good way (or so it appears; I never take this shit 100% at face value anymore, I always expect to find out they’ve got feet of clay), and so he’s not an unfamiliar name. But when I heard about this I assumed L would just take them over a few at a time and that’d be that.

And then after several times of her disappearing throughout the day, I caught her back on-site when I was getting tired and had been almost dozing off during one seminar (or presentation or whatever they call it) and asked if she was going back to the house. She told me she was taking people to dinner at Neighbor’s but she could drop me off on the way and oh, it would be awkward to turn around with cars behind her so could she drop me at the mailbox intersection in the neighborhood? Sure, I said, going numb. No problem.

By the time she dropped me off at the mailbox with like three cars behind her all going to Neighbor’s having to pause behind her to watch me doing the walk of shame away from her car like the bad little girl who had to go to bed without supper, I was fucking done with everything.

So ensued a pretty bad evening. I got lucky. One of the very few Facebook friends besides Dawn who ever checks up on me happened to get a whiff of something amiss and messaged me directly to invite me to traumadump. I’m always a little suspicious of that sort of thing too but hey, if nobody in my face-to-face life wants to be my friend and I’ve got no therapist because they’re fucking insane and I don’t have insurance anyway, I had to put it somewhere.

She thinks it sounds like either Neighbor didn’t want me there or L didn’t want me there. She seems pretty invested in the idea that L is into Neighbor and came up with it independently of me; she asked me if L maybe knew about my “history of poly” and maybe that bothered her. Well, I’m glad to know I’m not the only one getting vibes off that situation — and this woman’s never even met the people in question. I could just be presenting it weird, I don’t know, but I have a feeling any dispassionate observer would be seeing the same things I’m seeing and that at least one other person is now seeing thirdhand just from the little detail I’ve gone into.

The thing I feel like, in general, and I don’t think I have spelled it out very far until now, is that L has some sort of unrequited thing for Neighbor and doesn’t want to say so because the movement they’re a part of is more important to her and they already lost their co-author from the book that kicked off the whole thing. There’s probably a certain amount of camaraderie involved in co-authoring a book; I don’t know how much it hurt to lose A (he fucked off over the trans issue), but I would imagine quite a lot. If she’s got a thing for Neighbor, and if it didn’t work out, that would be so much worse. I say “unrequited” because as I mentioned in another post: lack of PDA. And Neighbor talking about his testosterone shots weeks ago and about his doc asking him “would you like to ever have sex again,” not “would you like to ruin your sex life by quitting the shots.” Different background assumption for each question; phrasing is important. There’s a disconnect there. L doesn’t fucking like it. Am I making it too obvious that I like Neighbor? Probably. I am probably almost never as subtle as I like to think I am.

And that’s the only reason I can think of that she’d be so cold to me, because she is. Even when we do have conversations — yes, she always uses a nice, light, conversational tone — it feels like she’s holding me out at arm’s length and only saying as much as she has to in hopes the conversation will be over with soon. Over and over I get the vibe that I’m “the help” and I shouldn’t expect anything like friendship because I’m “the help” and I’m not welcome to eat at the same table because I’m “the help” and I don’t get to participate in the fun stuff (like the dinner at Neighbor’s) because I’m “the help.” I never got the impression that she was like this with anyone else. Certainly no one’s warned me about her. But then she hasn’t exactly announced who her “help” is this time around, either, and if I did spell out in a public Facebook post that I was living with her, she’d probably give me grief about it. Hiding me? It could be a security measure because she and Neighbor catch so much shit for their activism work, but… that doesn’t feel right. That’s not all of it. Could be she’s been like this with past “the help” and she doesn’t want them warning me.

This is probably all just bullshit and wild speculation. I’m ugly. I’m a loser. I look like a nightmare with my clothes off. I have absolutely nothing to offer. Hell, L and Neighbor could actually be together and are just conducting their relationship in a highly unusual way. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen that happen. But if I’m right, if I’m mostly hitting it on the fucking nose, let me just say for the record that I am beyond tired of women who are more beautiful than I am (and she is; short silvering hair, no makeup, turning sixty this year, and fucking all) but feel threatened by me. WHAT THE FUCK. Guys NEVER go after the uglier woman because they actually want her. She’s a distraction. She’s a fucksock. That’s it. And those things are all I’ve ever fucking been too.

—

I didn’t go back to the feminist thing today.

I got some good things out of the one full day I went but I knew I did not want to spend one fucking moment in that car with L and her fucking friends who watched her walk-of-shame me the night prior and were now acting like absolutely nothing amiss had occurred. And I didn’t even know who’d been in the three cars behind them, so for all I knew I was going to get stupid questions at some point as well. What do you even say to that. “Uh, well, I’m nobody, just The Help, and L doesn’t want me around Neighbor except to do scut work for him or else he might want to fuck me as a side distraction and we can’t have that, CAN WE.” Land sakes. Fucking no. So it’s just as well.

I will tell you what though, they were insistent. Because that’s not mixed signals at all.

You have two options, L ol’ buddy. You can start treating me like a human being or you can stop playing dumb about why I don’t want to go do recreational shit with you.

There will be no third option.

I must admit, I’m mildly irate. I spent $185 to waste my fucking time and be humiliated. I would rather have that back and get a bicycle with it. I knew it would be nonrefundable and I’m not going to fucking bother about it. I’m just tired. Everyone please just fuck off.

—

The other thing Facebook Friend and I talked about was S. Okay. Given my druthers I’d go for the big man. He’s in Scotland and married and even if he weren’t he can have any damn woman he wants. That was never on the table. As far as men I actually know I’d go for Neighbor instead. Assuming I don’t find out something about him that puts me off my feed. Him being involved with L would do that and basically at this point I’m assuming it’s a done deal just to save my sanity. So Neighbor is off the table. But S has been a bit weird with me all along and I’ve kind of been wondering about him around the edges.

FF says she likes S better. Nice eyes, she says; pleasant face, she says; then random choice remark speculating about something else, etc. Now me, I’m a sucker for a man with a nice voice. S does not have a bad voice. S has quite the acceptable voice. Neighbor has a beautiful voice and big man’s voice makes my underwear elastic suddenly three sizes too large. I don’t need the gorgeous deep voice to make me happy though. It’s just a really nice extra.

Neighbor seems a lot kinder. S seems… a mite self-promotional. I suspect that in the long run I’m going to find he’s a giant walking ego. I also suspect I am not much better than he is, but I’ve seen what happens with men and giant egos; I had better not excuse myself into a bad situation.

I have to wait til next month to even meet him and I’m a mite impatient about it. I don’t even know where that event’s going to be. I know it’s at someone’s house and I doubt it’s at Neighbor’s and that is all. Though with all the bears the invitational flyer is boasting, it could be at Neighbor’s. I kind of hope so, because then I could walk it. I will probably have to, in fact, because by then L will probably be fed up with me.

You know what, though? It might not be a bad idea to flirt a little openly with S while that’s all going on. Because unless he turns out to be utterly repulsive in person, I would probably flirt anyway BUT, it will have the extra added benefit of putting L at ease if she sees it or hears about it. It’s a bit Machiavellian (OH MY GOD I SPELLED THAT RIGHT THE FIRST TIME) to want to maneuver things like this, but I also don’t want to end up homeless, so if I’m not by then, I’d like to push a few buttons to make the situation more secure. Once everything in my fucking life stops redlining and I can get a damn breather, maybe I can re-assess.

I have a feeling it could work out in S’s favor anyway. He’s going to be in Victoria, at least for the fall and winter, I think? Might as well entertain him while he’s here. I doubt he’ll kick up much of a fuss.

I’m assuming an awful lot.

Never mind.

But definitely, paying attention to him during next month’s event is a good idea. Even if the only thing that happens is people think I have a crush on him (and I may well do, by then), that may be enough to take the pressure off me. And maybe he’ll enjoy it. If it looks like he isn’t or like he doesn’t give a shit, of course, I’ll back off.

—

Whatever happens I think it’s safe to say this whole adventure can be chalked up to one gigantic FAIL. I’ll be amazed if it turns out I’m wrong.

Okay. I think L’s in bed; I hope she’s asleep. I need to clean up my supper leavings…