A Quitter Just May Win...

Those are my "Happy New Year!"
fireworks, in case you're not quite
sure about what's going on over there.

In some sort of bizzare twist of thought, I'm feeling reflective in regards to the next year -like I've already lived it. Perhaps I can take this to mean that I've a leg up on everyone else? That my psychic abilities have been honed to the point where I will be able to flawlessly identify a terrible idea and make much better decisions for myself.

On that note, I quit drinking on Christmas. Well, that was the last day. I had been talking about slowing down/stopping after the holidays -"As your New Year's Resolution?" you may ask, but that just sounds too tacky for me (but, really, yes... that's what it comes down to).

I woke up on the 26th and, while not my worse hangover ever, I was not pleased with myself. I decided then that there is absolutely no reason to dely the inevitable, unless I was trying to fool myself all along. I rolled over and told Brandy that I was done drinking. She carressed my jawline and gave me a kiss. "Me, too, love. I think that's a wonderful idea."

So, the Missus and I will be spending New Year's with her nephew, watching movies and having a pizza party.

I know that it's a bit premature to post on the success rate of this plan, but I gotta say that I am feeling much better already. My wallet is not crying out in pain, my liver has decided that maybe it doesn't need to burst from my body and call protective services after all, and I've been eating *much* better -tofu/veggie stir-fry with bean thread noodles last night, made a big pot of 15-bean soup on Sunday... when it probably would have been something quick like pizza or pubfare from whatever bar we were at.

Plus, the amount of money that I'm going to save will get me to Europe much sooner than if I was still being a lush.

Plus -it really is time to grow up.

Huh.

Took me three times to get this post started today.

In fact, I think that it will take me three tries for every sentence... WTF. Where are my words?

What am I doing?

Wow, holy shit confused.

After spending the weekend with A, I was in a state of bliss. We were texting and talking and making plans to see each other the following Saturday -and I couldn't have been more stoked about it. I kept thinking about the way that I would catch her looking at me out of the corner of her eye, the blush that would creep from her neck to her cheeks, the giggle that would invariably result upon my discovery that I was being watched. I effing loved every minute of it.

I thought about how when we were in the grocery store picking up supplies she would saunter over to me and throw her arms around my neck and kiss me right there. Stopping at red lights. The toll booth guy who busted us with a gleeful, "And what are YOU two doing?" The honking and thumbs up from the car who passed us on the left. We couldn't keep our hands off of each other.

And it wasn't just the chemistry -I felt free around her. No pressure to act a certain way or to have to please anyone but myself; I could tell that she was pleased when I was. There was no awkward silences because there was nothing but feeling natural with her. The age thing that I was worried about (I'm seven years older) was never even a "thing." Being the "big kid" that C described me as, I basically felt on the same level -except for the whole she-can't-go-to-the-bar thing.

So why did I tell her on Friday that we couldn't do this anymore? That I still have feelings for B and have to explore them?

Because, as shitty as it is to end the romance with A, it's true. I am still in love with B, even the grouchy part of her, the no-PDA part, the drinks-far-too-much part... all of that is tied in with the fierce loyalty that she has for me, the incredible shock that I feel when she touches me, and with how her guard slips away when it is just the two of us and I am the only one who truly knows her.

B came over to my place unexpectedly on Thanksgiving night. We threw the usual generic jabs at each other, but for some reason it was different. Part of me just wanted her to leave -and she almost did -but the other part wanted her to never go. We talked about A. We talked about the girl that she had been seeing, and the one she almost brought home from the bar. We talked about making spectacles of ourselves in front of our friends. But then we talked about how it used to be, the happy days, the moments before all of the bullshit happened.

And I was overwhelmed all over again. She is the only person that I have ever loved, ever given my whole self to, who has ever had the ability to break my heart. That night I knew that I needed to try with her again, that there is still so much there that is good and so much that can be worked through.

But will I be able to work through the fact that I think about another woman all of the time?

The Meeting

Bet you want to know how it went... well, maybe I'm more interested in talking about how it went than any of my dear readers are in hearing about it, but, hey, I'm not picky.

So I leave work on Friday with the car all packed from the morning and ready to go. My cruise only takes about an hour and a half, so sweet -I have a feeling that I may be doing this often.

I arrive at the girls' house and they're all there! Hugs and salutations commence and we settle in to chat about the wedding. Turns out that my alcohol-laced memories of Ptown were slightly skewed -I find out that I'm marrying *two* lesbian couples, not one couple. The two that I thought were married are actually the ones that brought the whole thing up. Ah, gotta love it.

So, I admit to being slightly nervous about meeting A, to which I get a look from C -"You have nothing to worry about -she's really easy to get along with. You guys will be just fine!" To which I reply that I probably need to get a six-pack of liquid courage just in case. Off to the liquor store we go, because apparently it would be a good idea for me to have a bottle of tequila down the hatch.

Turning into the drive of said liquor store, it is pointed out to me that A is working, right at that moment, in the store adjacent. Hello, palm sweat.

What do I do? Text her, of course. I get a "Seriously?" from her to which I am tempted to tell her "No, just playing," but I am getting more and more ready to see who I've been talking to. So it's decided that the girls and I will browse for a bit and let her stew.

Purchases are made -no liquor for me, thanks, I'll stop and get some beer- and stashed in the car. We go out front and C points through the window-"That's her."

A smile decides to take residence on my face as I watch A deal with her customers. I like her slightly self-conscious way of movement, the way that she gestures when she's talking to the old man in line, the shrug that radiates from her entire body up, not just her shoulders. I like that she bobs her head ever so slightly when she laughs at something. I realize that the other girls are watching me watching her and redden slightly -I am feeling a bit like a dirty old man. "You did good, C," I say -and you know that my mind is elsewhere if I'm not grammatically correct.

A continues to do her thing while we try to get her attention through the window -no way in hell am I going in there when she's that busy, especially as our first introduction. After what seemed like an eternity, her eyes finally light upon the four dykes outside the window -whom everyone else seemed to notice but her. I like that too, that she isn't constantly scanning her surroundings. We wave and she freezes for a moment, and then ducks, but quickly tries to recover. Too late, lady! I saw that smile... While she has her back turned we quietly slip away, but I do sneak another peek and see that my smile is echoed on her sweet face. And I know that it's going to be a good weekend.

And it is.

Ah, the life!

As I surveyed my new place this morning, sipping my coffee and watching Angus run around outside untethered, I realized that there is absolutely no better place to be. Not only am I content, I am absolutely blissed out.

Being single was something that I had forgotten how much I enjoyed. After bouncing from relationship to relationship, I was more than a little leery about all of the "me" time. There really hasn't been much of it, when I really think about it, but when I am alone with nothing to do, my head is a good place to be.

School, work, Angus, my (incredibly awesome and sweet and funny) landlady, her dog, my friends, and settling in all leave not much room for boredom. Plus I've got a new buddy.

Would you like to know about her?

Well, I'll have to backtrack for a moment to really give you the whole story...

I attended a marvelous get together in October that some of you may know -Women's Week in Ptown. While I was enjoying a lovely state of alcohol-induced happiness and waiting for the (now) ex to finish using the facilities, I overheard a group of newcomers giggling that someone "had to be the lookout." Being the incredibly shy person that I am, I immediately volunteered my services -having no idea what they were up to. Turns out they had some nips that needed to be swallowed -of course, after my lookout duties were complete I had to offer my esophagus and gullet as well. Ex comes out of the bathroom, looks at me skeptically (yeah, she was a barrel of freaking fun), and I introduce her to my new found friends.

We ended up heading to the bar with the girls and found out more about them. Two of them are married, and the other couple is engaged. Well, how amazing is this? I'm ordained! It is decided that the best place to meet the person who will officiate at your gay wedding is the bar.

So, through the breakup with the ex I continue to chat with the girls online and on the phone. The night that I moved out of the ex's place, I imbibed (of course) and got very chatty by text and bemoaned the whole being-alone-on-my-birthday thing. What's that, Dizzabeth? Oh, hmm... just so happens we have a friend...

So. I've been talking to this friend of theirs since then. Text, email, phone, etc. A was a bit worried at first about the age thing (I'm seven years older), but as I'm getting to know her, I am impressed, and have to mention a bit intrigued. We haven't yet met, but this Saturday is the plan...

Did I mention that she's incredibly cute? Well, I wouldn't want you to miss out on that: she is *incredibly* cute.

I really have to remember how much I'm enjoying being single... I really have to remember...

What was it that I was supposed to remember?

Full circle

How the hell does time creep by so slowly on a daily basis, yet accumulate into months so easily? I am shocked and apalled that my 27th birthday is a mere five days away and that, for the first time in years, I will be spending it as a single lady.

Yep. You heard me... previous "wonderful lady" and I dissolved into a mess of cattiness, anger, (sometimes) hatred, and are actually in a pretty good place now despite all that. What, you didn't know that lesbians' best friends are often their exes? Where have you been? For shame!

So this brings me to my birthday weekend -I am giving myself the greatest gift of all... a place of my own. After said "wonderful lady" and I split, I made another classic move and stayed with a girl that I was convinced would be my wife one day. Obviously that's not happenin'. Plus, I've been living right in town and miss being surrounded by the woods... my pup isn't much of a fan of being on a leash all the time either.

So, "wonderful lady" will be helping me move on Saturday, with a great big told-ya-so smirk on her face (oh, how she loves my failed attempt at recreating our past bliss!). Pup will run around the woods, hunter-orange vest blazing due to the trigger-happy nature of hunters in my area. And "wonderful lady" and I will have a glass of wine and try not to make out with each other.

Hopefully we won't try very hard... it is my birthday weekend, after all...

Allow myself to introduce... myself...

When my Dad looked at me with a surprised “Oh,” I knew I was in for a treat. I had just explained the sleeping arrangements to him in my then-empty one-bedroom house. He was helping me move and was naturally curious as to where my “roommate” was going to sleep.

“Right here,” I replied with a smile, gesturing to where the left side of the bed would be.
“What about you?”
“Right here,” the grin getting wider, this time motioning to the right side.

This is where the “Oh” comes into play. Surprised, yet knowing. Shocked –but barely.

After all, he had seen some pictures a few years before that he could have passed off as "experimenting."

(For the record, I wasn't.)

Anyhow, my "coming out" to my family was pretty anti-climactic. That was it for my Dad, who in his seventh-generation Vermonter type of way took it in stride and then proceeded to pepper me with questions. Once satisfied that it was the real deal -that I was in love with a woman, he relaxed into his typical completely-inappropriate self:

"Well, I guess if you two are ever broke, you could always make a movie."

That's my Dad.

Mom is a little different, and surprisingly so. She is the liberal of the two (Dad is a gun-wielding Republican) -has her Master's and is an educator, votes Dem every time, likes gardening and is generally very easy to talk to.

All except for this. Neither of us bring it up often -if at all. It slightly annoys and sometimes embarrasses me that the woman who I thought would take it in stride and make it a non-issue is the one whom I feel most guarded around. Who knows?

Maybe if I had mentioned it to her in a better way, we could have had a heart-to-heart. As it happens, she found out from my older brother who called her to ask how I should tell Dad that I was with a chick... (An insanely wonderful one at that, but we'll get to that at a later date.) For the record, he did *not* have my permission to do this task for me -and I never really planned on "coming out." I figured that my family is smart and would realize that she wasn't my roommate when, well, whenever they saw the way that I drooled around her.

Anyhow -those are the bare bones.