Men, Where Have You Gone? Please Come Back.
Powderhorn @ Powderhorn @beehaw.org Posts 714Comments 1,943Joined 2 yr. ago

Powderhorn @ Powderhorn @beehaw.org
Posts
714
Comments
1,943
Joined
2 yr. ago
Plea for help: I've got a cash infusion coming Monday from my mom, but I'm basically broke ahead of tomorrow's No Kings Day protest and want the option of getting out of the area via Uber/Lyft.
In Seattle, preserving trees while increasing housing supply is a climate solution
US Justice Department says Trump can cancel national monuments that protect landscapes
Major US climate website likely to be shut down after almost all staff fired
Curfew now going into effect in downtown L.A., expected to be in place for days.
Washington Post Planning to Bring in ‘Nonprofessional Writers’ Coached by an AI Editor With a ‘Story Strength Tracker’
What the Jesus-tapdancing-Christ is this tripe?
Dating has always confused me. If this takes a half-hour, it's likely not right. It isn't about wordplay ... it's a gut reaction. Mind you, I can engage in wordplay, but the spark, that sense that you've always known each other ... throw out the calendar.
You. Fucking. Know.
I actually texted my ex tonight. This is usually months apart, and here it was as well. But I went out (yay, me!) to a weekly burner meetup, and there's my ex's Doppelgaenger, equally tatted, blue hair, gesticulating as said ex did. So I sent a pic. I hate talking to Babe, but there was no one else who could understand what had happened at 23.00 CT.
Nothing happened. The woman who I'm doting on a bit too much and I didn't even talk this week. She was engaged in her sketchbook, and I didn't want to be a dick and see her exasperatedly put down what she was working on. I'd seen this from the middle distance, and we'd talked last week. Oddly, she doesn't just look like my ex -- she espouses what I enjoyed in terms of interaction: brusque and disinterested, if polite.
And while my ex and I had what could charitably be called an "oh fuck" moment after the divorce in 2016, it has been quite the journey. Have we fucked over the years since? Well, yes.
I don't need to approve her new choices, nor does she mine. You can't hate someone you don't love, and we eventually came to this timeless realization. There was a lot of hate. See prior reference.
Which to a certain extent I think is about insecurity. We both thought we were done with having to look when we met, but this turned out not to be the case. Fuck, we thought we were done with each other. And yet she kept the name and still wears my wedding collar (no, not what you're thinking -- it was far more substantial and required a lot of collaboration to pull off for the day of the wedding after an absurdly huge steel portion showed up from the blacksmith first go 'round).
We are done, but ... that doesn't mean she's gone. The number of times I wanted to set her to blocked is in the high three-figures. I just can't. Oh, sure, I try to come up with rationalizations, and I'm not thrilled with having to tell someone new, "So, you should know Mrs. Powderhorn is still out there."
Our phone conversations are oddly binary. Either we're talking like we're back in bed, or it's scorched Earth. I think both of us resent that it didn't work.
So this woman at the warehouse? She won't ever realise (let alone care about) the extent to which a nice-looking counter-culture punk chick is actually alarming because I know where this goes via personality.
Tangentially related, back in 1999, I picked up a copy of the Vancouver Sun, as I was wont to do, and there's a photo of me around A6 (I know it was an even page), except it wasn't me. The Canadian girlfriend (yes, they exist) looked at what had caused my reaction and didn't quite need a fainting couch, though I can't see her saying "no" to one.
"Waiter!"
Perhaps the most jarring thing about the now-nearly-decade-ago divorce is that we operate in two states. When we're working together, all is well.