Sunday, February 04, 2007

Life with MGFM

To pick up where we left off, MGFM has been living at my house since Monday night.

Now, if I had a two bedroom apartment…say like I had in Vegas…then this entire experience wouldn’t be so awkward. Sorry, did I say awkward? I meant freaking impossible.

I don’t have enough room here for me and all my crap. Let alone for a whole other person and all his crap. Huge black garbage bags on every free space of my living room—including couch and end tables!!—does not a happy Christine make.

More than just physically taking up more space, MGFM’s presence turned my carefully created routine upside-down. There were keys issues. Food issues. Not being able to find my shit in the morning under all the other things in the way issues. It kinda made me want to suffocate him in his sleep.


The thing that really got me—or that’s really been getting me, I suppose—is my OCD. I literally started pushing into the scary territory. Repeating words/phrases I didn’t say properly. Finger/foot tapping. Listing/Cataloging. It’s becoming slightly debilitating, which means I need to go back in for testing and treatment options.

A, though, brought up a rather valid point. I’ve been doing a lot of traveling lately, between Houston, Vegas, Dallas, et al. I’ve also been dealing with boy shit, and my own personal self-hate issues. Maybe I should, as suggested, give myself a little bit of a break.

Heh. Yeah, because I’m so great at asking for help…let alone giving myself any.

Whatever the case may be, it appears like MGFM and his rents have worked out some sort of agreement, so he’ll be back in his own home tomorrow. I can’t say that I won’t be happy to have my own place back, but it will be weird not having him around so much. As much as him being here was chaos, there was a certain comfort in not being alone.

Which brings up another one of my recent meanderings.

Lately—oh, say over the last five months or so—I’ve found myself craving some sort of permanence. Some sort of…rooting? I desire a space of my own, a man of my own, some sort of calm in the crazy storm of my life. The idea of waking up next to the same person I go to sleep with every night. “I want to wake up with you, and go to bed with you, and do everything in between with you,” as Denny Duquette so succinctly said on Grey’s Anatomy.

Unfortunately, I have no idea who that “you” might be. I’ve certainly entertained various fantasies of who he could be…but life often gets in the way of those silly dreams. It’s funny how different one’s thoughts and desires can be from the starkness of reality. How big of a gap there is between the two.

It occurred to me the other day, how dumb it is that I've been making up excuses for not having a guy. I’ve gotten everyone I’ve ever wanted. It’s funny to think that way, but it really is true. Even in the situations when it should have been impossible, I’ve put a little attention and applied pressure…and that’s that. So I guess the real problem isn’t the who of the guy…it’s the who of me. I have to want me first, before I get to have my roots…and my peace. I have to earn it.

I lost myself for awhile there--for far too long--and this time in Toronto has been more about recovering from that than actually finding myself again. I think the time is long past for me to get searching. I need to dance again, run every day, hit the Pilates classes, and maybe even jump on a horse or two. Give my mind something productive to do while my body remembers how to be strong again. Give my heart and soul some calm so that I’m ready to face my future. I’m ready to play. Ready to fight. Ready to find myself again.

Screw sexy, I’m bringing scrappy back.


Quote of the Moment: “You should get some sleep. I don't care if you're still on Vegas time. BED, Christine Isabelle! BED!” [Chat portion that gets forwarded to my inbox after I sign off] “Signing off doesn't mean you're in bed. You think you're sneaky, but you're not. I know your tricks.”
Soundtrack of the Moment: The Streets’ “Fit But Don’t You Know It”
TV/Movie Quote: Notes on a Scandal: “My father always said ‘on the tube, mind the gap.’ The gap, you know? The distance between life as you dream it and life as it is.”

No comments: