A lot's changed in the last month; I've moved from my one bedroom apartment into a three bedroom house. Now I have a separate room as an office, and a back yard with grass. Even the move itself gave me a different perspective on things.
Jamie was panicking that we weren't going to get everything done in time, as we had to be out by November 30th. I, on the other hand, was of the mindset that there was no real consequence to not being out. December 1st was a Sunday, so the apartment community was unlikely to start preparing the place for the next tenant, and what were they going to do if they were and we were still there? Call the cops to throw us out? I don't think so.
And ironically, but still something perfectly normal in my universe, Larry and the kids helped us pick up the moving truck, and then later in the day he returned with Jeremy, who helped me haul boxes. Don't get me wrong. The novelty of the situation wasn't lost on me. I even told Jeremy about how my mom wouldn't set foot in the house where her ex-husband lives, even though they have two kids, and one of those kids still lives there. Nearly 30 years have passed and that's still awkward, but two years later, Larry and Jeremy together, and somehow it all has a playful sort of I-got-the-last-piece-of-pizza feel with Larry and Jeremy and me.
Take yesterday. I wrote Larry to tell him that Jamie and I were coming to L.A. for a concert, and to ask if he wanted to meet for dinner. He ended up putting the kids down for a nap so they could be up when we got there, we ordered two pizzas, and the six of us ate dinner while just talking and cutting up in the kitchen. Larry was hugging on Jeremy a lot, and there were a few moments I wondered what it would be like to still be a constant part of that picture, but looking around to find my pictures still on the fridge, seeing how the kids ran up excited to see me, and seeing Spencer greet Jamie at the door by name, I realized that I still am a major part of it. The weekend before last with the move, a couple e-mails exchanged thereafter where I was saying thanks, the experience has been so more incredibly nice than one would expect. Indeed, Larry and I've seemingly been "lovey dovey" lately for lack of another term. The e-mails and interactions have been genuinely caring, and a bit revealing, where for a while, the norm was to appear largely indifferent to the other.
Reflecting, too, on Jamie being here, I realize that I'm going to intensely miss him when he has to fly back to Canada in January. He's been especially fatalistic in regards to his return, and I guess in some ways, there's reason to be, but I've been around enough to know that nothing ever works out like you think it will. I can't see not flying him back. I've let him in my life, and if he wants to continue, it's open to him.
Indeed, having him in my life has helped me grow both mentally, to examine what he tells me are the faults in my relating to other people, and sexually. I'm no longer an anal sex virgin. In fact, I've come to find that I'm rather fond of guy's butts. And I'm letting my closet exhibitionistic side out a bit, too: We had sex on a deserted off ramp on the drive back from Vegas a few weeks ago. It was probably the most intense sex high I've ever had.
Yet in so many ways, it's hard for me to see how we fit together couplewise. He's all about music and much of a free spirit, and I'm largely about work and much more goal-centric. Our communication styles are different, too, and it seems like such a mismatch. I just don't know where it's heading, but I do know that I love him and want to see him happy... and it working out certainly wouldn't baffle me. I've seen stranger things.
So life's good. Heck, Jamie and I even met a new couple for lunch this past weekend after I e-mailed them from their PlanetOut ad; making friends again and everything.
It's just busy... but I can't complain. No, I certainly can't complain.