Sunday, October 14, 2007


Tough weekend.

The Goat had had all of two days off in a month, and he was visibly exhausted. Shortness of temper began to surface right around the time he was done for the week, at noon on Saturday -- I just had a distinct feeling I was in the way, so I headed out to the Big Woods and waited for him there. Things came to a head that night: he burned himself badly on the oven rack, messing up his hand. Then I tried to finish cooking dinner in his kitchen [bad idea].

Of course I was upset enough not to worry too much about the rules, broke some, found I had broken some I hadn't even known about -- who knew
breaking spaghetti in half was a crime? -- and after the final rebuke, just burst into tears.

Nobody's best moment.

The thing is, I know the Goat was just over-tired. I know I was just emotionally drained -- the Little House in the Big Woods looking less and less likely to happen all the time, just as I was beginning to get attached to the idea, being turned down by the first people I turned to for help. In fact, one of them had given me the distinct impression that I had transgressed some kind of law just by making contact in the first place. I hate being made to feel less than human.

Anyway, the Goat held me while I cried, and I sort of settled down over the course of dinner, at least until he started criticizing my insufficient outness and gayness. I have become allergic to being lectured on this topic; it's not like I don't see that I have a long way to go, but I am just so sick and tired of being told what to think...

It all put rather a damper on the evening, which I am sure he as well as I had pictured rather differently...

Me, I am left hoping his hand is all right -- the only place where real damage took place -- and wondering whether I really have the chops for this "relationship." I am crazy in love, but I am just too @#$%-ing sensitive to every little word and glance. At least at this point...

A broadside like that really takes the stuffing out of me...

Well, it beats solitude.
I guess.

No, I know it does.
It's just harder...

Hang in there, all.
I try.

1 comment:

  1. Ah, Troll. I want the Goat to be nice to you. Isn't love a bitch sometimes?