What a difference a year makes

This time last year, Liz and I were in Mexico hoping to reconcile. What we came away with was a realization that despite the unparalled love we have for one another, we couldn't bridge the differences and fears five years of separation had created.

It was a very tough lesson to learn. One that I still struggle with even to this day.

But what I have on this morning of my 53rd year, is the love and adoration of a beautiful and kind woman. A woman who understands that the memories of 13 years is hard to let go of yet believes that I will find a way to do exactly that.

The irony of it is the more she believes in me, the more she opens her arms and comforts me, the more she kisses my tears away, the more I do believe, the more I let go, the more I turn to her.

I love you, Caren. The pain of this past year lessens every day I spend with you.

Please don't be floating in the Gulf of Mexico, little blue Galveston beach house!

I went on vacation and a hurricane broke out

Caren and I spent Labor Day weekend in New Orleans.

And so did hundreds of gay boys, LSU fans, the National Guard and Hurricane Gustav.

It turned into a working weekend. I went armed with a FlipVideo camera and a laptop and posted to our hurricane blog before the 'real' team showed up.

Strange being in the French Quarter with windows boarded up and the only sounds are coming from generators and a bad Journey cover band.

I did manage to have a little fun. Got my first lap dance at the Larry Flynnt Barely Legal club. Found where the Corps of Engineers were hurriedly dumping sand in HESCO sand baskets at the Industrial Canal (which breeched and flooded the Lower Ninth Ward). Was asked if I was interested in a three-way with this guy and Caren. 'No? Well, can I watch then?' Uh, no. Was told that if we didn't leave our hotel by 11 a.m. Sunday, we would be taken to an evacuation center. Slept in the New Orleans airport Saturday night.

The photo posted is of me standing on the HESCO baskets after begging the corp dude for a hard hat.

Fitting the pieces

Liz and I went to Zambrano's after work tonight to wash the taste of the day out of our mouths.

We each had two glasses of wine ... I had a Napa Valley Riesling and she had a Napa Valley Pinot Noir. We shared a cheese and meat tray.

We have put boundaries on 'relationship' talk. I don't want to know about hers, and, well, I don't want her to know about mine. But I did open up about something.

I told her I thought she treated me badly last year when we were dating. That I believed she wanted me to feel the way she felt when we separated five years ago, when she loved me so much that would have done anything to get back together with me, and I wouldn't give her a chance.

I know how that feels now and I told her so. I think she's always wanted me to feel that kind of loneliness and helplessness. I don't believe she did it intentionally but I do think she was still angry with me and it just happened. I told her that I forgave her but I'm not sure I have forgiven myself for all of the bad shit I put her through in the course of our relationship.

I don't want to have these kind of talks with Liz every time we're together. Tonight just seemed to be the right time.

Social networking

I've been humiliated by Monique.
Left out of conversations.
Felt like a relic from the past.
So I did it.

I created a Facebook page.

I know, I know ... said I'd never do it, uh-huh, not me. It's a time suck and darn addicting.

But MySpace? Never!

5 years and waiting

They broke up about the same time Liz and I did.

She told him she couldn't go through with it about a week before the wedding.

It was painful watching him deal (and not deal) with it in front of friends and coworkers ... it was hard to see him in my office with tears in his eyes trying to wrap his head around it.

He went to counseling and it seemed to help. He eventually started dating again and learned to let her back into his life from time-to-time. We shared our frustrations over countless numbers of beers and closed-door counseling sessions in my office.

She was doing what Liz was doing to me. Come here, go away, come here, go away. We shared ways to cope with the heartache, bragged about who we were dating, sure that we both had moved past the breakup.

And then we reached this conclusion at about the same time ... or least vocalized it at the same time: we would always be in love with our exes.

He gave me a lot of support when Liz and I started dating again. He told me that they were starting to date again, too. And he asked me to keep it to myself. And I did.

Liz and I didn't make it but they continued, taking small steps forward and sometimes one or two back. But they continued. And continued.

He pulled me into his office last week and, with a smile and tears glistening in his eyes (and mine), told me they were getting married in the fall. Probably not a big wedding and maybe just the two of them.

Dreams do come true.

How hot is it?

This is when I hate this state.

It's so hot, I have to run at 7 a.m. and even then it takes 30 minutes to stop sweating once I finish.
It's so hot, my dog is going through 2 bowls of water a day ... and he's an inside dog.
It's so hot, my front yard is hard and crunchy and I don't care because it's too hot to stand out there and water.
It's so hot, when I come in the house after work I'm freezing and the temperature is 82 in the house.
It's so hot, I sleep under a ceiling fan, thermostat on 76 and a box fan.

I'd trade you July and August in Texas for three months in Rochester winter.