Journal spun's Journal: Coming Home 2
Coming home is now the worst part of my day. After I am home, I'm fine. At work, I'm fine. It's all I can do not to cry on the drive home, though. I keep hoping Jenny will be there, even though I told her not to be. She doesn't want to live in Mr. Y's tiny apartment all the time, he has no cable and no Internet. We are still legally married, and she's on the lease so it's not like I can kick her out, even if I wanted to at this point. I have asked her not to be here when I'm here, at least for the near future.
I got home and the puppy was barking, a sure sign someone had just left. She'd left in such a rush she'd forgotten to lock the door. I got inside and she'd cleaned, done my laundry, gotten out a suitcase for this weekend, left a detailed account of our finances including all account numbers, usernames, and passwords we use, bought me a new bottle of shampoo/conditioner, and get this: a box of condoms for this weekend. She is trying to do right by me, bless her.
Interesting note, I got a message from a couple on adultfriendfinder.com. I'd kind of forgotten that I'd signed up for that site. After doing so, I'd come to the conclusion that I'd rather have less sex than casual sex. But frankly I'd rather have casual sex than no sex. I'm a little conflicted, it's a three way, what if I break down crying in the middle of it because it makes me think of Jenny and Mr. Y? On the other hand, they're from Santa Fe, I'm going to Santa Fe this weekend, what can it hurt to just meet them at a coffee shop or something to see what the vibe is like?
You know, lots of things can be addictive. Like love. Or safety. Or even routine, because routine means safety, doesn't it? You see, this is what I forgot about myself: I'm a balls to the wall motherfucker who isn't scared of anything. I used to live in a van on the street and do nothing but volunteer because I didn't want to take part in a corupt and degrading system. I went to protests and marches and rallys, got involved with Food not Bombs, the IWW, Earth First, a bunch of groups.
But I've changed. You know what Janis said, "freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose." I used to live with nothing so I would be free. Then I told myself, I could have something, as long as I didn't get attached. You know, if you're not attached, you still have nothing to lose, right? Then it became a little more. I told myself I could do more if I had a little money. I forgot to keep checking if I was getting attached. Work from inside the system, yeah, that's it! I became mainstream so gradually I never even noticed.
I guess I needed to. I needed to prove to myself that I could, that I wasn't just a failure who was blaming the system for his mistakes, that I could really do it and had just chosen not to. That's now been proven.
I'd also started to see the futility of the movement. Where was it getting any of us? I'd seen my friends beaten by cops for trying to hand out free soup and bagels in a public square, and for what? Then I met Meg, with all her enlightened ideas about how we could help people to be free, inside, and then they would never accept oppression from the outside.
She really wanted to teach me, and I'd asked for a teacher, so... That was when I lost my eye. In a mugging, in the U district of Seattle. Completely random, but there I was, hospitalized, facing surgery, the prospect of being deformed as well as having no sight in that eye staring me in the face. But the doctors did a good job. I learned a valuable leson in forgiveness. Meg was there for me, and off we went to Hawaii to learn how to better revolutionaries.
And learn I did, from a number of sources, not just her. Those were a good couple of years, growth wise, but hard. After Meg left, I had a number of interesting experiences, including being part of a polyamory community discussion and massage group, doing 5MEO-DMT for the first time, meeting Mark Pesce and falling in love, meeting Matt Stone and Trey Parker, having them write the two of us into South Park...
Yeah, that's right, you read that right. I am in South Park. Mark and I are in two episodes. Yup, we're the two geek characters. They look just like us and they debuted right after I had met Matt & Trey. Mark is the fat dark haired one, I'm the skinny blond guy with the ponytail. Okay, I don't know for certain because the two of them wouldn't say, they just laugheed. But it's a mighty big coincidence if the two of us weren't their inspiration for those characters. I don't think we ever actually argued about whether there were 72 or 73 original episodes of Star Trek in front of Matt & Trey, but we may as well have, we're that geeky.
Mark was head of the newly formed Interactive Media department at USC at the time. In fact, USC had created the department for him. They also gave him the chair of Annenberg House, which meant he had a cushy double suite on the top floor and a $100,000 house entertainment and activities budget to blow every year. I cost him all that.
That may have been what ended our relationship. It wasn't my fault, but damn, that has to hurt. The whole thing was so stupid, too. You see, most of the professors from the traditional media departments hated him. They saw him and his department as usurpers.
He tried to get me a job as his admin for his computer lab. He forgot to tell the hiring comittee that he had a relationship with me. I guess he must not have read the employee manual, because evidently, at USC, that's a fireable offense. He didn't know, so he didn't think to keep our relationship a secret from anyone, and at a dinner party a week later, it all came out.
Even so, given his reputation and status, they weren't going to fire him. They were going to strip him of Annenberg House, make him a regular professor with no hope of getting tenure, and put his department under the control of one of his rivals. Well, he was not about to take that. He quite and got a job at the Australian Film, Television, and Radio School. I think he's now with University of Sydney, we haven't talked in a few years.
So, he broke up with me. I moved back to San Francisco. My best friend Rob Batista came and rescued me after everything went, as the British say, all pear shaped. Rob was in love with me. But I was feeling guilty towards his other best friend, a certain Jenny, who I'd met and fucked within half an hour, at a Rainbow Gathering a mere day before I'd met a certain Meg and run off to get my eye slashed open.
Have I mentioned that I've led a strange life? I'm going to write all this shit down in detail and make millions.
Yeah, I felt sorry because I'd fucked her and then run off with another girl without saying goodbye. And the next year, when I saw her again at Rainbow, she'd lost weight and died her hair bright purple. So I didn't recognize her when I saw her, and she thought I was doing what every other guy in her life who fucked her did: pretending he didn't know her in public. She was hurt, and though I tried to apologize to her through Rob, she thought I was just making excuses.
The next year was 2000, when I met Mark, moved back to San Francisco, and hooked back up with Jenny, much to Rob's dismay. Jenny had been pissed at me, and she told me later, she thought I was kind of a dork and wasn't that into me. But she was desperate, and I was the first man who had ever shown her continued physical affection. No lie, she'd never even dated. Just fuck buddies who wouldn't talk to her the next day. The San Francisco punk/raver/underground scene is a little image oriented, but honestly that wasn't it. She's actually cute, and especially now, not that overweight. She just put out this completely asexual vibe most of the time.
I taught her how to be a sexual creature, how to feel good about it, and how to be open about it. I helped her learn to love her body. Before she met me, she would have transfered her consciousness into a computer in a heartbeat if she could, and done away with her body altogether. Now she's a raunchy dirty girl who fucks like a porn star.
So there it is, she loves me but she has never been in love with me, and during the whole relationship she has been resentful because I'm not the one for her. Up until recently, she thought I was the best she could do. Actually, she didn't even think that romance and infatuation like it is in movies and books even existed. I think I've mentioned her aversion to 'kissy scenes' in movies. Now she has met someone she actually feels that spark for, and who has all of her same interests, and who is very much like me in many ways.
I've had that infatuation before. Many times, actually, to the point where it's not that important to me anymore. That's why I didn't miss it in our relationship. We had a good solid partnership and the sex was great, that was good enough for me. I didn't need butterflies in my chest.
Romance and infatuation are fun, and a good thing because I'm sure I'll be going through them again. Just not for a while. But Jenny has never, ever had this. Not with me, not with anyone, and she'd just about given up hope. I'd actually be a bastard to stand in her way here.
She's incredibly grateful for everything I've done for her. I'm her best friend. I know more about her than anyone else in the world. I've been her mentor sexually and spiritually. I've opened her eyes to politics. She's taught me about art, and theater, and music. She's taught me how to be better at talking with people without freaking them out. She's taught me how to be clean and organized which is no mean feat, as my mother could surely attest. So I'm grateful to her too.
Well, that's enough writing for tonight, I'm off to hang out with my mom and adopted brother, the gay republican native american ex military fellow. Yes, I do like throwing that in just for the weirdness factor but it does happen to be true.
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My mom and dad broke up