Since I’m housesitting for the Tattooed Monk, whose cat has never met a dog, I thought it best to leave Louie with the Ex for the weekend. Because I also get to drive the Monk’s car while he’s gone, I was able to bring the Loumeister over to the Ex’s apartment, our old place, which I had not seen since I moved out over a year ago. I was ready to see Tex, our/his cat whom I had originally adopted from the shelter a few years back. To say I felt bad leaving him after the divorce is a bit of an understatement. But looking for a new place at the time meant one pet only, and so Louie came with me and Tex stayed with the Ex. Hey, that rhymed.

Coming on the heels of the Ex’s recent revelation that he’s been seeing someone for the last seven months, my visit was more than mildly anxious. He had new furniture, new art on the walls, a new computer, new photos. I surreptitiously scanned all the photos, looking for the new boy’s face. I saw no unfamiliar faces, and I did not see myself.

So I sat with him and Lou and Tex, who didn’t seem to be holding a grudge, thankfully. I told the Ex I would most likely be living nearby soon, so he’d see me and the dog more often. A strange look crossed his face, he smiled self-consciously, and then just stared at me.

“What?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing,” he said.

I didn’t push it, but did ask about the boy, whom he apparently met near work on his lunch break. “So, seven months,” I said, “how do you feel about him? Is it serious?”

“Uhhhhhh, no, not really.”

“Are you in love?”

“Uhhhhhm. No. I don’t know.”

He sat there and just looked at me, and I awkwardly changed the subject. Then I said I should go, and he walked me to the door and I offered him a hug and when I went to give him a quick kiss good-bye his lips parted and he started to give me a real kiss, which I pulled out of and laughed and said, “Don’t.”

He turned red and apologized profusely and before I could leave pulled me back so he could apologize again. Another long awkward moment transpired, and then I walked out.

It hurts me to know that we are in two very different places regarding our relationship. It hurts me to imagine what he must have felt after I left. But probably not as much as it hurts him.


Okay, so it’s a done deal. Though I still feel like it’s suddenly going to be snatched out of my grip if I breathe a word. Bearbait says that’s because life’s kind of dicked me around a lot the last couple of years.

I found a place to live.

As soon as humanly possible I will be moving out of my Single White Female flat in the noisy Mission and in with my friend Schwing (don’t ask) who has a lovely place up by Buena Vista Park. For those of you who know Red Rock or the Randall Museum, the place is on Museum Way, the quiet little dead-end road that takes you down to the museum, just off Roosevelt Way. This has always been one of my most favorite neighborhoods in SF; full of parks and views and dogs and trees and quiet. Numerous parks for Louie, including one right across the street. Sweeping vistas of the city a short walk away.

Schwing’s apartment is on the side of a hill overlooking the Castro. It’s spread out over three floors; his bedroom on top, the living room/kitchen/dining room in the middle, and my (!) room on the lower, each with windows looking out on green trees and houses perched precariously on the hills undulating upwards towards Twin Peaks. My (!) room has its own bathroom, its own entrance, and has an outside set of stairs leading down to a wooden deck. And though I had been willing to pay $300 more a month just to find my own place, this place will actually be cheaper than what I currently pay. I can afford a car now, and there is always parking on the street.

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