August 6, 2017

When I told me housemate I was rebounded, she told me that sounded too negative. "You're just trying to date and figure out my relationships with men," she said.

Perhaps. I'm not so sure.

I've had some wacky things happen that I haven't shared here.

In March, I volunteered at a Burning Man conference. It was days before starting my new job, and months after diving into grad school as a single mom. I decided my perk for volunteering four days of my time would be getting laid. I didn't worry about the how.

On day three, I managed to sneak away from my station so I could listen to my longtime friend and current CEO of Burning Man speak. We had been encouraged as volunteers to dress in our playa weirdest. That day, I was wearing a green Hello Kitty cheerleading dress from a clothing exchange at American Steel, and I was carrying these cheap green Pom Poms I'd bought in amazon. I sat down near the door so I could sneak back to my station unnoticed. That's when I saw him noticing me.

There were about ten empty seats between us. We looked up and smiled at each other a few times. I got up my nerve, collected my Pom Poms, and walked over to the empty chair next to him. I asked if it was okay if I sat there. He said yes, and then he told me, "I was a cheerleader in high school."
I replied, "So, when most of the guys were at football practice, you got to ride in the bus with all the cheerleaders?"
"Yep," and he gave me a heart melting grin.

We whispered a little during her talk, and when she was through I told him I had to return to work and gave him my card. He found me a little later and asked if we could meet at the party at NIMBY that night.

I found him about an hour after I'd arrived and he said he'd been looking for me. He seemed annoyed. It was a huge party. I was a little surprised he wouldn't shoot the funny hydraulic gun at one of the interactive stations with me, but we flirted and talked and wandered around and then an old friend came up and he wandered off but found me later on the dance floor. The party ended soon after, and my housemate called a lyft. He jumped in with us. We had two conference attendees staying with us. One was asleep; her partner came up and welcomed us home. She told me later he woke her up excitedly, saying, "Absinthia brought a guy home!"

I drove him back to his hotel the next morning, and we met up that night at the closing party. I spent that night at his hotel, and he confessed he'd pocketed my panties that morning. I thought that was hot.

The next morning, he flew home and I started my job.

He texted me a bunch, and I was happily surprised when I realized we were staying in touch. But things got weird fast. I wouldn't hear from him for days on end, and then he'd send me an article on how to be a Power Couple. One night, friends walked in my home for dinner and found me a complete mess. It had been over a week since we talked, and he sent me a message about how he loved me and had been thinking about our kids and living in different states and had no idea how to make it work. I had no idea what to do wth this information when one friend suggested I invite him to the campout the following month. So I did.

He didn't reply.

A few days went by. I emailed him how confusing that was for me, and he told me I was being dramatic. He said he'd love to but had to check his custody. A lot of time went by. Out of the blue one day, he texted me his travel plans. He was coming. The weekend was Friday to Monday, and he was coming Thursday till Tuesday. I told him to come Friday. It weirded me out, I didn't want him to meet my kid, but he changed his plans. I relaxed and got excited.

When he showed up, we had a wonderful drive. We held hands and kissed, stopped for lunch. We talked and laughed. We got the dance floor and had a great time after setting up camp. We had sex but it was a little awkward and quick.

The next morning he jumped out of bed without touching me. We talked about our plans and ideas for the day, made breakfast, that sort of thing. I sensed a weird energy pull from him any time I tried to do something. Being an equal partner is important to me; it felt like he couldn't handle that. By the time we got to the river later that day, he told me, "You're pretty bossy, you know." My heart sank. I told him I was sorry he was feeling that way, and that I had sensed a power struggle earlier. Perhaps we can bring that up and work on it and talk about it when it happens?"

It took a few hours, but by nightfall, he was ignoring me and not making eye contact. Still, he only knew the few people I'd introduced him to around camp. We went to the dance floor and he acted bored until camp mates turned up, and he lit up and hugged each one. I was hurt and confused.

We had some conversations that stopped me in my tracks. He trash talked his ex wife a lot. He started talking about anal sex and how his wife wouldn't do it, how he's longed for someone to fuck him in the ass for a very long time. Okay, maybe we can make that happen. He asked me about several people and whether they were a man or a woman. I replied with the gender they presented and didn't think much of it. He asked, "Are you sure??? Do you really know?"
"Why does it matter?"
"Oh my god because it matters!" He replied.

I will say one interesting conversation we had was about deaths we'd seen. I brought up safe sex, and he was surprised. He'd never heard of anyone he knew with AIDS. I've lost several. He said it was pills and heroin that he'd seen in Salt Lake City. Living in New York, San Francisco, and Oakland, I hadn't seen very much of that. But AIDS, definitely. That disease really affected my life.

He told me about his upbringing and that he was kicked out of the Mormon church when he was 14. Um. That should come first, pal, not in the middle of the mountains with 500 of my closest friends.

The next morning, it was worse. I left camp shortly after breakfast, and didn't return for hours. I just wanted to get away from him. My campmate collected me at dinner time, told me there was food, and she told me that I should try to engage with him. I did. We ate and went to the dance floor, and I saw him disengage with me and act bored. I walked away calmly and put myself to bed.

We left the next morning. I said, "I'd like you to find somewhere else to stay tonight, please."
"Oh, okay. Is there something I said to upset you?"
Wait what? Does he feel everything's fine between us? I asked him that, he said he wasn't sure, and I asked him about the bossy comment. He got very defensive and it was impossible to communicate. I went silent and after he sent a few texts he made arrangements, and I dropped him off at bart after the longest four hour drive ever.

He came around to my side of the car and said, "I'm sorry things didn't go smoothly between us. Thank you for an amazing weekend. I've never been to that part of California and I really enjoyed it. Can I have a hug?"

I gave him a quick hug and drove home, relieved to have him out of my life. Later that night, he texted me all about where he was staying and how it had worked out and signed it Loves!!!

I unfriended him the next morning. By the evening, I saw his name was not bold in my camp mates post tagging him. He'd blocked me.

There it is, out in the open for all its weirdness. It is so hard to be human. I promise to post more weird stories like this as they happen. They seem to happen a lot.

July 28, 2017

I think what people don't realize is that no matter how much they hurt me, I've already been cut deeper and survived.

I wasn't invited to a friend's birthday dinner this evening.
He hasn't called.
My housemate brought home dinner and left mine in a box, while plate-ing theirs and eating it in their room.

It made me feel isolated and hurt. Single. Lonely. I'm single, but I'm not lonely. I ended up at a friends picking something up from her for tomorrow's costume event and having a lot of fun. I spent the rest of the evening home relaxing.

I surprised myself when tears started falling. I miss him terribly. I like this new guy more than I should, and I know he's always going to let me down. I hate it when a bucket with a fuck in it appears in my hand. I need to remember my faith in the future. Someone new will come along and shake things up, and I'll wonder why I was hung up on a known disappointment. But right now I care and it hurts.

It's just a small hurt, though. I can handle it. I've lived through the last year and the four years before that, and this is not even a thing.

No man will ever hurt me again like that. I can't say for certain that's the worst thing that will ever happen to me; I can say that I've survived it. I have so much to do here, and I'll keep on surviving.

Oops, there goes that bucket of fucks.

July 17, 2017

Hi. It’s been a while. 

It’s been over a year since I started this. Am I still the hot grieving MILF?

Of course I am. Somewhere in my heart, as long as it keeps beating, I always will be. 

Some days it feels like I’m fighting to stay off the antidepressants. 5htp, l-tryptophan, staying away from things like alcohol and too much indica. Some days it feels like that and a well of inner strength, source unknown, are the only way I can stay off the anti depressants. Keeping myself going at a breakneck pace with work and school and kids and dating. 

Not today. Today was a good day. 

I miss having a partner, one who doesn’t play games, who rolls with the punches. Mature, kind, understanding, and, just as importantly, whip smart and ridiculous amounts of fun. 
For now, the dating is okay. It’s entertaining me, and it’s filling some needs but not all needs. I’ve realized I’m 46 years old and terrified of commitment. Terrified they won’t be alive the next time I want to see them. I don’t trust life. I don’t particularly trust death, either. 

Truth is I enjoy it. I’m good at it, dating. Sometimes it blows up in my face. I keep one around too long, a month instead of leaving them behind at the conference, and they say:
“You’re bossy.”

Um, single mom, triple entrepreneur, MBA student. HA! Yeah, and?

Sometimes I am surprised one comes back for me, and I handle the first sign of bad behavior head on. I receive a sincere apology, and I hear:

“I can’t play with fire as hot as you and not listen.”

That’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever been told. I have a secret box with love letters, dirty notes on cocktail napkins, and cards that arrived with bouquets of flowers. I guess I’ll have to print this one off my phone. 

Sometimes I call an old friend with high status and ask for a favor and receive an enormous gift. One that opens doors and warms my heart immensely. 

My marketing presentation was very well received. My personal book project was given the green light tonight. 

I’m alive. I’m living. I’m on fire. 

April 7, 2017

Previously, I’ve been devastated because he’s gone. Tonight, I’m devastated because I’m moving on.

It was supposed to be this faery book romance. Instead, I’m moving on. 

Rupert and Absinthia took us both by surprise. We were friend zoned when we were teenagers because I was dating one of his housemates. Flash forward 20 some odd years and a drunken hook up after the Dead reunion tour – our first Show together since ’89. We fell in love. And then he died. 

Nine months later, I find myself grieving again. It’s been building over the last week or two, I can see that. And here it is. Emo music, tequila, tears, and all. This wave is different though. I’m not devastated because he’s gone, I’m devastated because I’m moving on. I’m moving on and I’m starting to see that clearly. Knowing that makes me ache. Its breaking my heart. 

I’ve had three lovers since he died. Beautiful people, inside and out. They have been one right after the other, short term but, strangely, serial monogamy. Brief and intense. Just days between each. Sudden, intense connections with limited face to face interactions. Two long distance, the other a bridge between. The ends of each have lingered with tangled emotions, with one deliciously continuing on from afar. It’s like I’ve lived years in the last nine months. I feel myself moving on after Rupert, and it feels right and wrong and I don’t want to be but I am and I need to. I have to! It’s important. Rupert is dead. He crashed his motorcycle. He’s not coming back. It hurts to be getting over him. It hurts more then any things ever hurt in my life. And yet, I’m doing it. Three lovers. That counts as moving on. 

I would like to find a way to take something positive from this. I don’t want to be hardened and unable to allow myself to make a connection with another man. This lifetime is teaching me male loss. Why is there so much male loss in my life? I don’t know how much more I can handle before I rid myself of the lot of them. Men. Fucking assholes. Too bad I really, really love men. Tall little boys, taught to be serious and to win, with their easily awakened silly sides, unsure of women and themselves and arrogant and entitled all at once. Not to mention their smell…mmm. Sorry, where was I? Right. 

Throughout my life, I’ve experienced father  abandonment repeatedly, divorce (my choice so that seems really different), the deaths of Alexius Stephen Rupert. My two gay husbands and my lover. Partner. Boyfriend. Late boyfriend. Men I never wanted to say goodbye to. Is it a wonder why it’s so much easier to say I love you and feel love with my female friends? Do I hold men at a distance because of this? Have I? Am I now? Will I, in the future?
That’s not who I want to be, walking away from this tragedy. I am moving on. I can choose how I will be. 

I choose connection. I choose love. I’m not going to be rash, but I’m not going to hold back. I do it in an invisible way, the holding back. You can’t see it but you can feel it. I’ll be open, and I’ll listen so much better than I talk. 

That’s where my work begins. 

February 7, 2017

Gah. I went to a couple of day parties today, and a friend asked if I had blogged in a while. I told him I hadn’t, that what I’d written had been used to hurt me, and I was hesitant to go back. This began a long and interesting conversation about money, family, aging, power, control, how family ancestry can create fear, and the narrow window of happiness money brings. He was very sympathetic and kind. 

Then I got in my car and cried. I miss Rupert so much. I haven’t cried in a while. Maybe that has to do with being off my antidepressants for a month. Maybe it’s because life feels like it has gone sideways. I feel strong and focused, but nothing is quite right yet. It’ll all take some time. 

I saw the Katherine Hepburn quote on Instagram earlier and it really resonated. Life is difficult. Dreadful things have happened. In a six month period, I lost my partner, my parents, and my money. The money enabled me to be available for my daughter who lives with me all but every other weekend, focus on my two start ups, attend grad school, and live a comfortable life. With that financial stability gone, I am moving on, and I am being tough with myself and I won’t let myself be defeated. I’m going to not only survive, but thrive. I know life will come back together. It has before and it will again. I have everything I need already. I don’t need to add to my life, I need to work with what is here and expand it. I have a wonderful, honest, loving relationship with both my kids. I have the most amazing group of friends. I have a sweet, supportive friend & lover. My business partner is the best. My relationship with my siblings is getting stronger. I’m working hard to stay in school and get good grades. I have financial aid coming through soon. I have contract work starting this week, and I’m planning to start driving for Lyft again. I have contacts helping me envision my businesses at the next level and to obtain financing to grow. I’m being careful with whom I let into my life and trust, and I feel like I am making excellent choices. 

I know that whatever happens to my heart, it can’t be as bad as Rupert’s death. I feel like I can handle anything that comes my way now; nothing will heart like that.  Wow, I meant to write hurt but I’m leaving the heart typo. Nothing will hurt like that. That life changing event took all the fucks in my bucket and washed them out to sea, never to be seen again. I’m focused on letting other people be themselves in their own world. I’m focused on Absinthia being Absinthia in Absinthia’s world. I listen to my committee, that is, my group of close friends I call on when making decisions. I only care what other people think if it will in some way hurt them. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I hold secrets – mine and others – close and secure. 

Sometimes it all hurts so much, and yet I am moving along, getting on with it, and being tough with myself and making a deadly effort to thrive. 

Thank you, today, for allowing me to cry and be sad. I release those feelings and will work towards my goal to thrive tomorrow. 

January 14, 2016

Dating a man who worked in forensics gave me a new perspective. Rupert’s day job gave back so much. He worked specifically on sexual assault and battery, and he helps get criminals off the street. While my two startups bring people joy, at the end of the day, I’m just helping people drink better cocktails. 

I want to do more. 

I booked tickets to D.C. for the inauguration. I nearly made it out to Standing Rock. I gave free hugs in San Francisco at the Ferry Building the morning after the election and in Oakland during the protest later that same day. Then 36 people died in the Ghostship warehouse fire just down the street from me. 

I live 2.8 miles from Ghostship. I thankfully didn’t lose anyone in the fire, but I have a friend who was first on scene and three others who almost attended that night. I knew I’d found my pro bono work. This was local. This was important. This was where I could make a difference. 

I attended a meeting at Omni Commons a few days after the fire. We broke out into groups, and I announced to the fundraising group, “I’d like to create a non profit that raises money for DIY warehouse spaces at risk of eviction or that are simply dangerous.” I quickly saw that I was in good company. 

Four short weeks later, we’ve created a fiscally sponsored non profit and have raised over $15,000. We have an attorney, a former fire fighter, the architect that wrote the Oakland fire code, several pro bono architects, artists living in at risk warehouses, and their advocates. I’m one of three leads in the finance group, and while every other team has one lead, the three of us operate as one. We’ve only just met and we just feed off each other in the most amazing way. 

I’m home from a fundraising event with nearly $500 cash on my desk. A few friends organized an event at a small bar in Alameda, invited some bands, and contacted us. Of all the funds related to Ghostship right now, Handsome Hawk told us, this was the one that had boots on the ground and was actually working in the DIY Spaces. He gave us a moment at the mic. I started us off by thanking Alameda’s Fireside Lounge and Handsome Hawk, the evenings promoter. I then asked the crowd for a moment of silence to honor the 36 lives lost in the fire. Quieting an entire loud bar was an amazing feeling. It was moving. I was inspired by the moment of silence the DJs asked for at the Flaming Lotus Girl’s fundraiser. The benefit it provided was that we had everyone’s attention. Isaac spoke about the community’s proximity to the tragedy. Everyone in that room was no more than one degree away from at least one of the 36. Ari wrapped it up with info about the fund and asked people to approach us with questions between bands. 

And the band played on. 

We have two more events benefitting our fund this month. We have a Facebook page and a website and an Instagram account. I am being put in touch with reporters and city officials. 

Most importantly, we are making a difference in our community. Community was there for me when the man who inspired me to make a difference died at age 45 in a motorcycle accident.The guilt that I felt when I saw myself beginning to move forward with my life without him has faded, and now I am honoring him and respecting his memory by remembering how high he raised the bar and not settling for anything less, be it giving back, career, love, familial relationships, and friendships. 
Safer DIY Spaces can be found here

December 24, 2016

Tonight, my parents told me they hated me as a person. I knew this. They told me they think I’m a loser, a slut, and a drug addict. They said my tattoos are disgusting. They told me that my wonderful children are that way because of who they are as people, the luck of the draw, and that I did nothing to contribute that. They disrespect me as a parent and as a person. 

I told them I don’t need their approval, that I think they are mean, judgmental, and terrible parents. They take no responsibility for their nasty and immature behavior. Somehow, they think they were ideal parents when I was a child, and that they are above reproach now. 

Their very behavior this evening proves that wrong. 

While what they said of course hurts, it actually feels good to have it out in the open. I know who I am, and I’m sorry they can’t see that. No one in my life treats me the way they do. I have a wonderful relationship with my children. I have an amazing community of close friends. My love life is complicated right now because my partner died recently, but I am not a slut. Even if I were, my sexuality is not a bad thing if it isn’t hurting anyone else. They just want to shame me. I’ve never done anything to hurt them, but I suppose different and having different values from them is enough. I value my uniqueness. I thrive when I march to the beat of my own drums. 

This happens often with them. They have done this before. I’m so fed up with it and I don’t want to do it anymore. I won’t do it anymore. I told them tonight I’m not coming back to their vacation home. They were surprised. Why would they be surprised? Would they really expect me to walk into their web again? At the end of the conversation, I told them I just needed two things from them. The first is to let me be my children’s parent and to not compete or act like they are. The other is to not talk about me behind my back, especially in front of my children. My kids have agreed to hold them to this. 

While my parents have walked around angry for two days, I’ve gone about my life like nothing has happened. I’ve smiled and enjoyed myself. Why should I let the poison they swallowed kill me? 

I spent the rest of the evening laughing and hugging my girls. We had a great night together. They told me they disagree with everything my parents say about me. I told them I’d love them unconditionally no matter what life choices they make. 

That’s what matters.