and a lovely time was had by all
Monday finds me recovering from a very gay weekend. Things with SK have been arcing wildly upward these past few days and I'm almost afraid to jinx it through unchecked gushing in the blog. Suffice it to say, things are going well. More and more well with each passing day.
So. Saturday night I had a little scare at the dyke march. SK and her friend Sunshine and myself were all milling around the North Park Blocks, looking at all the women and chatting about dyke (youth) culture. Sunshine is in, I'm guessing, her mid to late 50's and came into her queerness during a much different time, living in a much different place (San Fran). It was especially fun to be at the dyke march with an older dyke who is otherwise not much in the youth scene, because everything she saw seemed new and interesting to her and she seemed to have few preconceived notions about the possible meanings or intentions of different people's outfits and costumes. ("Oh, that's cute," she would say pointing, "She's got a little tutu on over her jeans!" "Wow, look at that lovely dress," she would say, pointing to a woman in a nouveau vintage A-line. Such wonder for things I've almost stopped seeing, they seem so unsurprising anymore. It was refreshing.)
My little scare came when, standing around in a happy little clump with SK and Sunshine, looking and smiling and appreciating everything, I suddenly spotted (and close by too) the terrible and dreaded CB! (For those of you who are new to this blog, CB is my ex-partner, a mean drunk, among other things, who I left last December and who I haven't actually seen since January.) I jumped like I'd seen a snake and started walking fast in the other direction. SK was sweet and supportive and Sunshine, knowing nothing about my CB saga, was confused. I bolted to the other side of the park where SK and Sunshine soon rejoined me and I spent most of the rest of the evening looking nervously over my shoulder for signs of CB in the crowd. She was wearing a white do-rag with big sunglasses and she was almost certainly drunk, running around with some indeterminately gendered person who looked about 17. I'm sure if I'd spoken to them, she would've introduced that person as her good friend, and I'm also sure that if I inquired further, I would learn that she'd just met that person moments before, because *that* is how CB operates. Every stranger on the street is her "good friend" because they're the only ones who haven't had a chance to witness and get sick of her shit.
But I digress, SK was super sweet and provided a sort of seat-belt for me all night, holding onto me at all times and keeping her own eye out for CB. Once Sunshine was appraised of the situation, she offered to protect me should CB come along and make a scene. It was all in all very sweet and I felt very well cared for and soon, as we walked with the march through the streets of Portland and into the waterfront festival area, I realized that my fear of CB was receding a little and I was starting to get my nerve back. By the time we left, I was almost hoping we'd bump into her, although I don't know what I thought I'd do. I was feeling a new, angry energy surging in me and I thought how nice it would be to just stand up to her, whatever that might look like. Though, I know it would only get messy and nasty and I would never go looking for it. I just know I'm better prepared for a surprise meeting than I was before the dyke march.
After all that, we drove Sunshine home, then SK and I made a little jaunt over to Besaw's, a tiny little restaurant near SK's, for dessert. I have never been such a big fan of dessert, but SK seems to bring it out of me. We shared a Tiramisu *and* a nectarine/pear tart covered with a pistachio biscuit *and* a side of vanilla bean ice cream *and* a cup of decaf coffee, b/c everything is better with coffee, even if it has to be decaf because you want to go to bed soon and you're too old to be chugging the real thing at all hours of the night. That was some goooooood dessert. Yum. I love SK.
So. Saturday night I had a little scare at the dyke march. SK and her friend Sunshine and myself were all milling around the North Park Blocks, looking at all the women and chatting about dyke (youth) culture. Sunshine is in, I'm guessing, her mid to late 50's and came into her queerness during a much different time, living in a much different place (San Fran). It was especially fun to be at the dyke march with an older dyke who is otherwise not much in the youth scene, because everything she saw seemed new and interesting to her and she seemed to have few preconceived notions about the possible meanings or intentions of different people's outfits and costumes. ("Oh, that's cute," she would say pointing, "She's got a little tutu on over her jeans!" "Wow, look at that lovely dress," she would say, pointing to a woman in a nouveau vintage A-line. Such wonder for things I've almost stopped seeing, they seem so unsurprising anymore. It was refreshing.)
My little scare came when, standing around in a happy little clump with SK and Sunshine, looking and smiling and appreciating everything, I suddenly spotted (and close by too) the terrible and dreaded CB! (For those of you who are new to this blog, CB is my ex-partner, a mean drunk, among other things, who I left last December and who I haven't actually seen since January.) I jumped like I'd seen a snake and started walking fast in the other direction. SK was sweet and supportive and Sunshine, knowing nothing about my CB saga, was confused. I bolted to the other side of the park where SK and Sunshine soon rejoined me and I spent most of the rest of the evening looking nervously over my shoulder for signs of CB in the crowd. She was wearing a white do-rag with big sunglasses and she was almost certainly drunk, running around with some indeterminately gendered person who looked about 17. I'm sure if I'd spoken to them, she would've introduced that person as her good friend, and I'm also sure that if I inquired further, I would learn that she'd just met that person moments before, because *that* is how CB operates. Every stranger on the street is her "good friend" because they're the only ones who haven't had a chance to witness and get sick of her shit.
But I digress, SK was super sweet and provided a sort of seat-belt for me all night, holding onto me at all times and keeping her own eye out for CB. Once Sunshine was appraised of the situation, she offered to protect me should CB come along and make a scene. It was all in all very sweet and I felt very well cared for and soon, as we walked with the march through the streets of Portland and into the waterfront festival area, I realized that my fear of CB was receding a little and I was starting to get my nerve back. By the time we left, I was almost hoping we'd bump into her, although I don't know what I thought I'd do. I was feeling a new, angry energy surging in me and I thought how nice it would be to just stand up to her, whatever that might look like. Though, I know it would only get messy and nasty and I would never go looking for it. I just know I'm better prepared for a surprise meeting than I was before the dyke march.
After all that, we drove Sunshine home, then SK and I made a little jaunt over to Besaw's, a tiny little restaurant near SK's, for dessert. I have never been such a big fan of dessert, but SK seems to bring it out of me. We shared a Tiramisu *and* a nectarine/pear tart covered with a pistachio biscuit *and* a side of vanilla bean ice cream *and* a cup of decaf coffee, b/c everything is better with coffee, even if it has to be decaf because you want to go to bed soon and you're too old to be chugging the real thing at all hours of the night. That was some goooooood dessert. Yum. I love SK.
posted by reasonably prudent poet at 10:11 AM
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