Why? Just Why? (Poly/ENM Discussion)

I asked Carol to search reddit and give me the top 10 questions that people have about polyamory and ENM. I am not coming from a place of lived experience, but I’ve done a lot of reading. I am just entering this world by chance, because I asked out someone and didn’t know they were poly in the first place. I just rolled with him because I liked him enough to keep him around. 😉 So, what was absolutely on brand for me is starting the research early, early, early. Here’s the benefit of my reading and experience combined, which, granted, is not much:


  1. What’s the difference between polyamory and ethical non-monogamy?
    • This is an excellent topic to get us started, because there’s no one way to do poly. Polyamory implies someone dating multiple people and they all know each other. Ethical non-monogamy is managing every relationship completely independently.
  2. How do you manage jealousy in polyamorous relationships?
    • At first, you don’t. You just let the jealousy wash over you and react how you’re going to react…… in private. That’s the time to learn to use your words, so that your response to jealousy is measured….. NOT that you hide your feelings. It’s just not a good idea to have your first reaction in front of people. What you learn about polyamory is that there’s no sense of someone taking care of you, because there is no ownership of one another. I do not mean that you do not have your emotional needs met by multiple people, it’s just different because you don’t lapse into a buddy system for life. You each have your own lives, and you are choosing to make time for each other rather than it being an obligation.
    • The second thing that’s really important is that the answer is “it depends.” This is a generality about the ideal. The reality is that humans are messy. I am on the fence about polyamory vs. ENM because I really haven’t had to deal with those issues myself. It really, really depends on your partner and what’s called your “metamour,” or “meta.” That’s your partner’s partner. All of my metas are wonderful people, but we do not pry into the details of each other’s lives. That is for Zac and Zac alone to manage, just like your spouse should never hang you out to dry with your in-laws, either.
  3. What are the challenges of opening up a monogamous relationship?
    • If polyamory comes from temptation, the relationship will end. Will. I can think of maybe three stories I’ve read where it worked out trying to integrate an affair partner. Poly/ENM is not cheating, and there are very strict standards you live by to stress it because having a hierarchical relationship is more trouble than it’s worth, for the most part. A triad is its own ball of wax, and the reality is that it’s mostly straight men who want to be narcissistic, abusive partners to more than one woman at a time. Polyamory is about saying your worth and your time are higher than that…… but husbands get this “great idea” and it all falls apart. Not all men, obviously. Especially if you’re dating a bear (teehee, but Zac is clean-shaven). I’m just saying that just like with monogamy, there’s a range of domestic abuse….. and because you’re abusive to multiple people who sit there and take it, congratulations. The dysfunction spreads to anyone new.
  4. How do you handle time management with multiple partners?
    • I can’t speak to what I have done, because I have never tried to integrate a partner into my life that way. Zac and I are what’s called “solo poly,” but that may change. I’m just driven by solitude and have no need. If there was a reason to have another partner, I’d get one. But I am happy living with David and becoming friends with him while we mutually take care of a dog and have our own separate partners.
    • The real answer is that Google Calendar is the official app of polyamory/ENM. In my case, I have access to all the data that goes to shared partners, like “this is when I’m in town. This is when I’m not.” That way, we manage without actually interacting all that much except for all call parties at Zac’s house, which are about Zac. It’s not the time for jealousies to be discussed, if ever. Zac is the hinge. I cannot stress this enough. It takes an enormous amount of emotional strength to be friends with a meta. That’s where polyamory gets hugely difficult. It is one thing to know it. It’s another to see it. Again, it depends. What kind of person are you?
  5. What are some misconceptions about polyamory and ethical non-monogamy?
    • The biggest one, absolutely, is that polyamory is binary. It’s a spectrum, just like everything else.
    • The second biggest is that polyamory is code for cheating. If you think that, you do not know a half of my emotional strength and flexibility. I do not have to cheat to be poly. It is counterintuitive. You are poly-amorous. No good can come of multiple partners that don’t know their hinge is poly….. and sniffing out an affair makes coming out as poly seem like “poor me. I don’t have a choice.” Yes, you do. You have the choice to lie to your partners or not, and never, ever in your five dollar life forget it. You talk about poly before it happens, not when you catch feelings. Because then, you’re just trying to cover your ass. You’re not poly. The fucking around of moral justice leads toward finding out.
    • Here’s a third that most people don’t think of, and it’s funny, because it’s a warning revolving around having a third. There’s a special population of couples looking for a third, most of them to try out poly for the first time, trying to integrate a closed triad, the hardest poly setup, before they even know what ENM means. This leads to obnoxious behavior and treats the third like shit. This special population is called “unicorn hunters.” That’s because the statistics on it working out are so alarmingly rare.
  6. How do you communicate boundaries and needs in polyamorous relationships?
    • Precisely. I cannot stress this enough. Everyone has to have crystal clear expectations in order not to expect or demand too much- we are all cognizant of the fact that each other only has so much time in a day. The main thing is not needing your partner for everything all the time, because it becomes intrusive fast. You can’t be 100% that bitch and say you want poly, then when their partner is out with someone else, you decide it’s time to hen peck the hell out of your partner while they’ve allotted time for someone else. Of course get in touch if something really important is going on, but not every little thing needs to be discussed the moment you think of it. If that were true, Zac would have sixty missed calls a day because “oooh, shiny.” I’m not the henpeck kind of neurodivergent. I’m the “if I don’t tell you this right now it will be lost forever” neurodivergent. It works out well that Zac works in intelligence, because he goes into a SCIF or something and then my notifications don’t bug the fuck our of him. He can read on his own time. E-mail also works well for this, because it’s not seemingly as time sensitive as a text.
  7. What’s the best way to meet potential polyamorous partners?
    • Well, the first and easiest thing to do is telling people you’re poly.
    • Failing that, you look on the internet like everyone else.
  8. How do children fit into polyamorous families?
    • It really depends on the parents. Overall, I think it makes for happier kids because they have more safe adults, and it’s a practical thing. Many hands make light work. Having a baby is hard on two people, but not so hard when there’s four people to take turns getting no sleep. The kid ends up having a good relationship with everyone, and explaining it to them isn’t necessary. If you are a person in your right mind, your sex life doesn’t come up around your kids. You explain to them how people have sex, not what mommy and daddy are actually doing to each other if you value your sanity in public. Because I promise that kid will have absolutely no questions at all about polyamory until you’re in line at Target. I don’t make the rules.
  9. Can polyamory work for someone who’s been monogamous all their life?
    • Again, it depends. I am driven by my own creativity, and I have never been this way before. I was not willing to sacrifice a full-time relationship for living on my own and not feeling like someone was helping me stay on top of things like a parent or a boss would. That’s what I mean about needing home help; that people who are not married are able to have people help them in an occupational therapy kind of way. Like, can you teach me how to manage myself and yet also be there to bail me out when my neurodivergence invariably causes the fuckening? It’s better for me to deal with that stuff when I’m alone, because I am not getting my crazy spatter on anyone. But again, not to the point of total isolation. Just enough where I need more hours to myself than a typical partner, so I’m willing to sacrifice the relationship escalator for it.
  10. How do legal and societal norms impact polyamorous relationships?
    • We cannot talk about the morals of polyamory in this country because we’ve been programmed to think that saying you’re monogamous right up until you cheat is socially acceptable, and 50% of marriages end in divorce. Why do we realistically believe that monogamy works? I’m not knocking it, I’m not trying to be persuasive. I am genuinely curious. What is it about upholding a moral standard in public while doing the opposite in private that’s all the rage? I don’t think that polyamory is more popular. I think that more people are coming to the same relaxation I did. That for half the population, monogamy over decades just doesn’t feel right or natural. What doesn’t feel right or natural is the judgmental, hypocritical natures of the people who criticize polyamory. A lot of them are on their third or fourth marriage, and at least two ended after infidelity.

The hardest part of polyamory is letting go of the idea that love means ownership.

In Which I Just Wander Around, As Per My Normal

I got a new haircut today. I’ll probably end up posting a photo because I’m not actually sure that many of you know what I look like. I was growing my hair out, and it looked great. However, it was a sensory nightmare on my ears and neck. I’ll probably not grow it out again, because I have learned absolutely the hard way that getting it shaped once in a while is not the answer. Like, not military short. You’ll see. Right now I’m writing on a coding notepad, so you’ll have to wait until I post this in the JetPack app and hope I’ve remembered. I’m not so good at the remembering, but I will certainly try.

I also ordered a few things for my room, like two prong to three prong adapters (the house is old), and some lamps because the space has great windows and lots of shade. Therefore, when I want it bright in here, I have to provide my own lights. One of them is a shelf where I can store “The Doggy Lama,” a small statue I’ve got of a dog in Buddha robes. I’ve also got a few other things I’d like to display, but I don’t know the measurements on the shelf. If it’s really small, I can display one of my autographed Henri Nouwen books. If it’s a little larger, I can display something by Team Mendez and “The Unexpected Spy” by Traci Walder. I have a ton more intelligence books on my Kindle, and I only keep hardbacks that are autographed. Everybody wants thirty bookshelves until moving day. Choose wisely. Normalize making the number of books in your Kindle library your status symbol instead of breaking your back trying to move a library. Trust me on this one. I do not have many paper books at all, and that’s by design.

I’ve been through two house fires so far, so it’s really important to me to be able to buy another electronic device and just re-download my books. I bought a copy of “Argo” on Amazon for the same reason. I also bought a copy of the miniseries “Hillary” off PBS……. right before they started offering it for free. I should also mention that this miniseries is not about Hillary Clinton. It’s about Edmund Hillary. It is very, very cool and if PBS got my money, no worries. I like them.

The last thing I bought was some drinks, because I’m trying to get out of the habit of drinking soda (and have been for years). I did get some mixins with caffeine, but also a ton without so that I don’t drink caffeine all day long. I’m kind of that way with caffeine, anyway. If I get enough sleep, I only need what my friend John calls a “maintenance dose.” For me, this is a cup of coffee or two cups of black tea with milk. Two cups of Stash English Breakfast is pushing it, but I don’t care. We all have our vices. 😉

So far, it’s really working out in my new house. Colin is endearing and so is Jack. He sleeps with me, even during the day. Like Oliver (who is a dog), he just likes to be near me when I’m writing. I’m also his official carer because I’m getting such a deep discount on rent. I figure walking a dog every day is worth $400/month. It’s very, very nice only sharing a house with one other person, because Colin is also an introvert. Therefore, I don’t hear him talking, listening to loud music, etc. It’s perfect, because neither do I. If I want to watch something, I have great headphones. Sensory deprivation has been wonderful for my mindset, because nothing was wrong with the other house, it was just louder than it is here.

I did get a fan, though. It’s not expensive, it’s just necessary because there’s no ceiling fan in this room and Zac said that if we tried to install one, it might open a hornet’s nest in terms of the ancient wiring. So, I improvised and got what is essentially a swamp cooler. It functions normally, but you can put water in it.

Zac’s housewarming gift was the beginning of a bar. There’s some Amaro, Wild Turkey, cocktail cherries, two kinds of bitters (because he knows I like them in soda water), and I think also some vermouth…. but that might just be something he left here. I can’t think of a reason to buy more alcohol than I already have, because I drink so rarely that it’s not like having the same cocktail over and over will be boring. The cocktail cherries are especially good.

In fact, I might just save it for drill weekends, because I’d like to have something on hand for Zac and I’m more interested in soda/water anyway. Oh, and Bryn and Dave will be here in May. Considering the size of the bottles Zac bought, I’ll definitely be able to give them some of whatever they want. 😉 Except the cocktail cherries. I’m betting those will go fast.

My dad’s housewarming gift was a sherpa blanket and a box of snacks which I am happily sharing with Colin. There’s all kinds of things, from Airheads and Laffy Taffy to Pirate’s Booty and Cheez-Its. That will be gone almost as quickly as the cherries.

Eventually, I’d like to get a small television to put above the layette closet. It just can’t be too big, because the wall curves up toward the ceiling. I just need a stud finder, and if I don’t say I’ve already found him, I have failed at the most standard dad joke of all time.

For those just joining us, he’s my boyfriend Zac. Zac is owner of Oliver, who is a dog. What’s really funny is that because I always say “Oliver, who is a dog” on my web site, it’s entered Zac’s lexicon as well…. whether he’s writing an e-mail or speaking.

It’s an antidote to the darker grey sides of life to be able to laugh together as hard as we do:

Leslie: I need to talk to a queer man about lighting.
Zac: I’m not that kind of queer man.
Leslie: I didn’t think you were, I just thought you might have access to one.
Zac: Well, I probably do. Besides, you’re the worst lesbian ever. You didn’t even get a U-haul.

Now do you see why it’s different when bisexual people date bisexual people instead of straight? Same cultural references. I have never been interested in a man who was also a “Friend of Dorothy,” and he’s probably even old enough to know what that means. 😉

He’s just become so dear to me in the smallest of ways, because he’s the type of person that likes to sit in his backyard with his dog and so am I. He says he’ll take me to do anything I want to do, he’s just not very good at planning. So, find a thing and we’ll go. Guess what I don’t do? Ever find a thing that’s worth leaving Oliver.

I was also very touched when Zac showed me a picture of the Easter eggs that one of his other partners had made. There were the names of all the partners on the eggs, and I was so touched she thought of me that I cried.

I’ve also cried a lot for Zac. He really opens up to me, and given what he’s been through, we don’t exactly have the lightest of conversations. It affects me, but in no universe do I want him to stop thinking of me as his safe space. I just don’t want him to think that his stories don’t matter, that I am not holding them in my heart and wishing the best for him. It’s not about trying to own him. I’ll never do that (or have the ability, as it should be). When I think of Zac, I don’t think of him like my fountain pen or any possession. I possess him the way I would say “my neighborhood” or “my coffee house.” I do not require or desire his complete and total attention. I do not need to be smother-mothered. I do not need to have a violently jealous partner. Too many people do.

I just tend to explain because there’s so much wreckage around the way society talks about polyamory…. as if it’s different than people who are in affairs having multiple partners and their partner doesn’t know it. It is different, because it’s totally open and honest.

But let’s be clear:

A lot of the people who condemn polyamory in public are devastating their husbands and wives with their affairs, possibly multiple. It doesn’t show that they care about their partner’s emotional well-being or sexual health. You will absolutely bring about devastation and think you’re better than me (or any other poly person). You’re not superior. You’re just an asshole who hopefully is only temporarily not being caught, because you are wasting your partner’s time if they’re mono.

I would never have suggested to a partner that we have an open relationship. It was easy to start an open relationship because I wasn’t seeing anyone. I never would have explored dating more than one person at a time if it meant saying to someone that I wasn’t happy with monogamy and we should change our relationship to reflect that. The relationship hardly ever survives, because the partner who didn’t say they wanted poly either feels pressure to say yes or devastated that they have to say no, because once a person decides that they’re poly, it’s not likely that they’ll ever agree to monogamy again. So, announcing that you’re poly generally destroys everything. So many people use it as a stop gap measure to try and stay together before completely giving up. In my experience, that has never worked.

And besides, I don’t have more than one partner, and I’m not looking. I just think that I’m wired for poly not because I have to date more than one person to be happy, but because it doesn’t bother me to let my partner be whomever he wants to be because why do I get to control what he does? He was up front and honest with me about what I could expect from hom, and it was completely acceptable to me….. because not only do I not care, I don’t have time to start. My life does not need to be taken over by worrying where Zac is every moment of every day.

There’s a joke in the poly community that I’ve been laughing about for like a year. It’s “polyamory is just three introverts passing around their extrovert so they can read their books in peace.” The other truism in marriages is that men ask for open relationships and the marriage falls apart when they see that they are not marketable……. but their wives are. All of the sudden things don’t look so hot when you’re the one that wanted new experiences, and so far that experience has been watching your wife come home from something fabulous while you’re always left on read.

That’s rough, buddy.

Honestly, it’s reclaiming the matriarchy, and it’s fucking beautiful. Then, you watch them try to crawl back on their knees to shut the relationship back down because they didn’t know Cindy Crawford didn’t want their dumb ass.

Then, the joke’s on them, because all of the sudden these women are having fun and they don’t want to go back to feeling unappreciated and undervalued. After all, it was their husbands who said they weren’t enough, right?

Or, the husband begs the wife to shut things down. She does. He doesn’t. It is always a double standard, like men saying their wives can only date other women because that’s not threatening. It happens so often it’s called the “one dick policy.” If your male partner does this to you, that’s not what poly even is. You love who you love…. within reason. One partner can veto another before they start dating, but for this to be healthy, it’s not saying a person is off limits, but a group like mutual friends or the other’s work colleagues, etc. Just common sense not to make your partners’ lives more difficult than it already is.

The one reason I say I’m poly even though I don’t have any other romantic partners is that Zac is friends with me on Facebook. Therefore, my friends see pictures of him with other people and it looks like he’s clearly on a date. That’s because he is, and I do not want anyone’s guff about what a shitty boyfriend Zac is because he’s running around on me. You know, if he was running around on me and we were also friends on Facebook, you’d think I would have broken up with him by now. 😉

I would be more upset if Zac watched an episode of “Slow Horses” without me. That is clearly “sleep on the couch” behavior. We’ve both been good, though. I joked with him that it was easier to wait than it was to pretend I hadn’t watched it. 😉 If you have Apple TV+, don’t sleep on it.

Speaking of Apple TV+, I also really love “For All Mankind” and “Acapulco.”

Anyway, the point is quality over quantity. When we’re together, we block out the rest of the world. We just don’t spend all day, every day together and I think that’s healthy. It’s basically the only way I haven’t gotten myself into a relationship that got too serious, too fast. It’s nice to stay in the dating stage permanently, because I’m finding out that I have less time to spend with partners than I want, anyway. This is not to say that Zac’s opinion doesn’t matter. If he wants more tme with me, it’s not like we can’t discuss it. I’m just saying that I am not on a relationship escalator and I like it. I don’t have to say things like “what are we?” Well, I do, but only in terms of prioritizing time together, not whether or not we’re solid. Not my words, but important…. a relationship elevator, not an escalator.

However, if I do meet someone else, I also want them to be wired for poly because Zac and I have been together long enough that I don’t want another person to try and control my time, either. This is because I do not want one person to be completely dependent on me for all their emotional needs and vice versa. Even if you are monogamous, you will never get everything you need from your partner only.

But don’t worry. If you don’t make time for your friends, they’ll go away. Cocooning destroys relationships, because when they end, you look up and you don’t actually have any friends you’ve talked to recently. Your entire world walks out the door and you have to rebuild your emotional support system from scratch.

It’s not that I’m against monogamy. Obviously. I’m monogamous right now. It’s that I like the fact that Zac can’t and won’t ever tell me who to date, what to do, what to think, what to wear, etc. If he doesn’t like any of these things, he doesn’t have to. If I have multiple relationships, my job to be a good hinge and recognize everyone’s discomfort, because in those instances, it’s 100% because I wasn’t a good communicator.

When you start learning about polyamory, you start learning about communication. Being partners with multiple people isn’t for sissies. In order to open up to multiple people, you have to be stronger at communication than you do when you’re monogamous. You have to be proactive so that problems don’t come up in the future. Because you’re learning about communication, you improve all your relationships overall. Your friends & family reap the benefits of you learning how to be open, because if you don’t, you’re going to wreck more relationships than just the one.

I would also never interrupt a date with one partner to go and rescue another unless it was an emergency, and even then we both would rush in, because I’m not dropping you at home if it’s an emergency. None of Zac’s partners would have a problem with this, and I need it to be the same way with mine. I do not need perfect harmony. I need basic respect and kindness. Even now, it’s not perfect. We all have our limits and Zac manages them well. However, because everyone knows when Zac is available to them, it’s not like there’s any bad blood. We’re just not mutual friends. We do get together for all call parties at Zac’s house, but laughitng together at a party a few times a year does not a mutual friend make.

You also don’t stop feeling jealous. It’s just that now, it’s your responsibility to find out why you’re jealous and be able to pinpoint what would fix it. If you can’t articulate those things, boundaries are unclear and everything falls like a house of cards. We have so many checks and balances, though, because Zac’s house is neutral ground. None of his partners live with him, which solves a lot in and of itself.

There’s a lot of checking the story you’re telling yourself and making sure it lines up with what your partner’s story is as well. Silence is every bit as detrimental as fighting, because if you don’t know what someone is thinking, you’re probably thinking the worst. And, the longer the silence goes on, the more the stories you’re telling yourselves differ.

I love that Zac is part of my story now, and that he’s the type of partner that doesn’t ask for the whole book.

Here’s another bright spot. I remembered the picture.

The Importance of Being Earnest

Yesterday, I started an entry about the whole move. I didn’t finish it before midnight, so I was going to finish today. Then, I decided I just wanted to start fresh this morning. I got an amazing night’s sleep, something I desperately needed. I will also be taking a bath in eucalyptus at some point. I’m not miserable, I’m just not young enough not to hurt after a move.

Although technically, I did all the packing. Zac moved. By the time he got to my house, I was completely toast because I’d stayed up all night trying to get everything ready. By the time Zac arrived, all we had to do was throw the totes in the back of the car. However, they were a bit too heavy for me while I was exhausted. So, Zac wins the award for being such a thoughtful person and taking over so I didn’t have to bust ass again.

What happened is that I was trying to fold my futon into a couch, and the mattress was upside down and backwards to be able to do that. There’s a special hinging system in the mattress so that one part of it has to be on the seat panel. When I flipped it over to the mattress side, I wrestled it all by myself and didn’t see the “this side down” tag to avoid this problem. So, on Friday night I turned my legs and arms black and blue trying to make more space in the room for sweeping, etc.

The futon and I fought. It’s not easy to admit when you lose to an inanimate object. However, in the end, I did get it done. It was a victory after all the sweat and bruises. So, again, I was glad that Zac could see I was wrecked from lack of sleep and exertion. I honestly believe that the pain is not all due to age. I really fucked myself up, but what other choice to you have in those moments? Where the only answer is “figure it out,” and the problem brings you to tears. So you cry and do it, anyway.

When we were finished with moving, we decided to watch Slow Horses and order pizza. Then, after we’d eaten, Zac pulled out a small box of cannoli, a delightful surprise. He’s been my rock through all of this, and I know for certain that if he’d had the bandwidth, I wouldn’t have been packing alone, either. That’s because it’s a huge give and take. We both get demand avoidance, meltdown, and need to call each other because neurodivergence, what the fuck?

It is a misnomer that autistic people know exponentially more about our disorders than neurotypical people, because we have the lived experience. This ain’t necessarily so, because data is not lived experience. We are as confused and mystified by our behavior as anyone else around us. That’s because I’m self aware enough to know when I’ve hit a wall, leaving my my mind divided in half, doing odd things and trying to figure out why.

Is it that I’m an INFJ and naturally introverted? Is it meltdown, burnout, demand avoidance, anxiety, depression, hypomania, CPTSD, etc.? Those are a lot of heuristics to consider, so managing myself in terms of patient care doesn’t always go so well.

As I was telling Bryn the other day, “when you treat yourself as if you’re the best doctor you’ve got, you probably need a second opinion.”

I need more psychological support than I’m getting, because I need an autism specialist- both for working out problems and the process of creating values and visions.

I am always about “values and visioning,” because that’s language from the church in terms of creating a mission statement. It works personally as well as it does in groups. Therapists aren’t just there to help you overcome your problems. They also help you when you’re stuck career-wise and don’t know where to go from here. Mostly, that involves talking to yourself until you figure out that you have always had your own answers, you just need to be guided to them.

If it helps, I think of my monologue here as therapy, so maybe you can think of your therapist as your raw blog entries. You’re just saying them out loud to the one person who actually knows what to do to help you emotionally suit up for a healthier future.

“Half this game is 90% mental.” -Yogi Berra

In terms of finding that for myself, what I have learned is that being on my own for so long has made it where the bare minimum effort on Zac’s part looks enormous to me. Just the fact that he does things like pick up income due to our income disparity is huge. This is because it says “I want to do this thing with you and I enjoy your company so much that I would rather pay for you to be there with me than worry you’re not going to be able to swing it on your own.” It doesn’t feel like chivalry, but…. not going to lie…… yes, it does. He just only sometimes feels that way. Most of the time, it’s just that he recognizes his own white male privilege. It’s one of the best conversations I’ve ever had in my life, because it was so comforting to see that he wants his only goal in life to make his world better. This doesn’t just extend to me. It extends globally.

Zac’s small kindnesses are so endearing, because it’s not about all the chivalry. It’s remembering things I say and respecting my words as equal to his own. I have not known many men like this, because most of the men I’ve known who date women think their opinion is superior because they’re the provider (generally). When women become the provider, men often get jealous enough to derail their careers. I remember one instance on reddit in which a woman was making bank in her field because it was so incredibly niche and had a lot of sensitive information. He interviewed for a job at one of her competitors and she had to divorce him immediately because he forced her hand. It looked too bad in her niche field to even date a competitor, and this woman had been married a long time. She told him all of this before the interview, and he did it anyway.

I know intimately that I will never have any of those issues.

I have also learned, and I think I’ve written about this before at some point, that it surprised me how little difference there is between dating a man and a woman when both parties are queer. Dating a straight person generally leads to keeping them insecure and anxious that you’re going to leave them for the same sex. There’s still such a cultural stigma on homosexuality that two things are running concurrently. Jealousy and homophobia are best friends when you want the worst possible outcome. On the flip side, gay people think of you dating the opposite sex as betrayal. Frankly, I understand and respect this outlook, because it seems like we’re watching you embrace the thing that oppresses us. There is also no world in which gay people don’t treat bi people like they’re “not queer enough.”

I will give you an example. I surf dating apps just to see who’s out there, and I am astounded by the number of lesbians who have on their profiles “no men, no bisexuals.” This basically comes across to me as “Irish need not apply.” No one ever thinks of bisexual couples who are in the system have the best ability to change it. Since we’re more accepted, we have a bigger platform. I think it’s shitty to use heterosexuality as a shield, but I don’t think it’s wrong for me to date men, or treat other women like trash because they have. It’s really hard for me, because that attitude is friendly fire. I need gay people to hear that in 7.1 Surround Sound, and the bisexual community is over it a “fuck you” amount. Straight people who have this constant insecurity that we’re going to leave them for gay people, gay people have this constant insecurity that we’re going to leave them for the enemy.

🎶🎶 One of these things is not like the other.……… 🎶🎶

I get it. I really do. I don’t have to agree with you, because that’s not my problem to solve for you. Bisexuality has nothing to do with cheating. Cheating is cheating. Bisexuality has nothing to do with polyamory. You’re either wired for multiple partners or you aren’t. They are two separate mindsets/skills. Therefore, that does not have anything to do with sexual orientation, like we’ll die if we don’t have both.

All bisexual people are saying is that their partner’s equipment is a non-issue, it’s not a barrier to a romantic relationship. They are NOT saying “I’m incapable of marriage.” Whether they are or they aren’t is a separate conclusion from attraction.

However, with Zac I don’t feel invisible, and that’s what happens to bisexual people in heterosexual relationships. We both look queer as a three dollar bill, so we don’t exactly exude heterosexual privilege when we’re out and about. I realized that dating a bisexual man was not losing my connection to the queer community with my partner. That it’s important to share whether you’re in a heterosexual relationship or not, because we’re on equal footing when it comes to being oppressed by the system. It’s amazing how often queer cancels out white in a racist theocracy, theocracy being the key word here.

I am tired of the Bible being confused with the Constitution. It’s gone on long enough. I’m tired of atheist hate of Christians because we deserve their hate so much….. In America, Christ’s actual messages have been mangled into a religion he could not support.

If you dare to judge me, you are a Roman, not a Jew. Period.

That’s because Jesus was on the side of the oppressed. American Christianity would make him vomit. It’s tinged with racism because slave masters would use Bible verses to keep their slaves in line and justify their monstrous behavior………..

Not counting on the fact that the slaves would empathize more with the minority who was beaten and killed just like them. That it was religion that gave them enough courage to stand up and fight for freedom. If you are straight, white, male, and cisgender, you don’t see with striking clarity the horror of the situation……….

That Jesus was under the exact same constraints that Americans are now. It’s just that the conservatives weren’t Republicans and Democrats, but Pharisees and Sadducees. Same software, different case. Therefore, white supremacists do not see the irony in being the people who oppress others in his name, repeating the cycle for 2,000 years. Conservative evangelical faith does not see the liberation in the story….. sometimes through thoughtlessness, sometimes through malice. The thoughtlessness is because people who aren’t oppressed don’t need liberation theology. They don’t need to feel inspiration from the fact that a minority was murdered by the state.

Not only that, he wasn’t murdered for actions, he was murdered for ideas. He was murdered by a government who didn’t want the people to think.

“It’s people like you what cause unrest.”

So, when you think about it that way, if you are a Christian policeman with racist beliefs, you’re not actually being a Christian. You’re being a Roman.

You’re not the people for whom your sins were forgiven lightly. That’s because I’m betting it’s easier to forgive the whole world as an abstract concept than it is to forgive the people who are actively in the process of murdering you when you did it.

You are as worthy of redemption as everyone else, because grace and mercy are free of charge. But the more you exclude people, the more you separate yourself from the Jew you claim to adore while mangling his words into everything he didn’t say.

Where in the Bible do you find that Jesus would have accepted the behavior of people like Donald Trump? That is the real mystery of your faith, because your blinders keep you from seeing it. Your words and Jesus’s actions don’t line up, so how dare you think writing your own headcanon and retconning everything to support the crazy idea that Jesus would support war and greed, things like that is everything wrong with white church.

You don’t see the hypocrisy. You don’t see the discomfort you create, even in your regular followers because your services are so fear-based. Why do people have to say they’re a “recovering Christian” at all? Do you think that Jesus would ever want people to go through recovering from trauma given to them in his name?

It is the weirdest transformation in history.

However, a lie can get around the world six times before truth can put on pants.

I am trying to find the truth in it all….. wading through the bullshit of exclusionary Christianity that harms people all over the world and trying to decide what’s worth keeping. My biggest gripe is that the squeaky wheel gets the grease, so when most Americans think of Christians, they think of Evangelicals. My reputation proceeds me in the absolute worst of ways.

This is problematic because atheists think that all Christians go to some sort of fucked up Bible college and are fed all these bullshit ideas. They don’t think of Harvard, Yale, or Oxford Divinity School first. To them, The Archbishop of Canterbury and Joel Osteen have the same amount of education.

I know most of you know this, but for the record, I’m going to bet the Archbishop has more.

Most people don’t know this, but the former Archbishop, Rowan Williams, was really good friends with Christopher Hitchens. They have some marvelous debates on YouTube if you’re interested.

I think this is a good point because people like Williams are being left out of the conversation. That Christians are intelligent, but there is a war between people who interpret the Bible and people who take it literally. Unfortunately, the people who take it literally, as if the pen was actually in God’s hand, have entwined themselves with the Republican Party and are the loudest idiots in the room.

When people think of Christians, their brains don’t jump to Martin Luther King Jr. and Raphael Warnock. They don’t think of William Barber and Bernice King.

They don’t see liberation theology because they don’t need it.

Zac is an atheist, and he’s the kindest Christian I ever met in terms of showing actual Christlike behavior.

If an Atheist is a better Christian than you, that’s the point at which you need to decide which God you actually serve. Are you tapping into the universe, or trying to control it?

Are you a believer, or are you Pilate, washing your hands of the whole thing because hey.

He’s just a Jew.

And that is the importance of being earnest with ourselves about the Republican Party. We need to decide when we’re going to stop following the Sanhedrin and state that murdered him, or admit it’s been a good run..

The choice is yours.

Back to Normal

Last night I got to talk on the phone with Zac for the first time in what seems like eons, because we have a date coming up on the 10th to go and see Jason Moran at The Kennedy Center. I was teasing him and said, “do you even like jazz?” He, very, very diplomatically, I might add, said, “I like you enough to buy you tickets and go with you to a jazz concert.” I fell over with laughter, but then he said that he wanted to catch up in person, so we didn’t talk long. But it was very good to hear his voice and I am glad that I don’t have to wait much longer to see Oliver, who is a dog. I have always teased Zac about this, that Oliver and I are in a relationship and he can come, too. He jokes back that Oliver is arguably one of his best features.

I don’t know whether it will happen any time soon with my move and all, but I can’t wait to have more couch time with Zac just watching Slow Horses, because it really is fun hearing the real stories behind how they do things in tradecraft (it doesn’t matter whether we’re watching CIA or MI-6, they use nearly identical techniques). I had to wait while Zac is out of town because that’s the one “couple show” I promised him, although I have gone back and watched “The Pigeon Tunnel” several times to fall asleep.

The first couple of times I watched it because it was exciting, and now it’s John le Carré seemingly rocking me to sleep. Have you heard his voice? It’s distinctive and posh, which he explains is an affectation because he grew up a trained thief whose family was always broke; his father was often working for/running from the Russian mafia.

When David’s father (Cornwell- I use it with John le Carré interchangeably) realized how successful his books were, his dad started running a game on him. Threw a shit fit because David wouldn’t give him any money, and he never heard from him again. But David wasn’t hard-nosed. His father asked him for money to invest in some pipe dream of a farm, and David said that if he wanted to work a farm, he would buy it for him outright and give him an allowance to run it. David’s father running off into the night clearly meant that David’s money was going to be used for completely legit purposes.

So, exploring old le Carré adaptations has been my jam recently. I think “The Little Drummer Girl” is actually better than “Tinker Tailor,” but perhaps I’m biased because it felt as adrenaline-fueled as Alias and Homeland.

I also found a really old adaptation of the Bourne series that was on TV in the 80s or early 90s. It’s so great, although quite dated and no one will ever be Matt Damon…. or Julia Stiles, for that matter.

I also got to talk to Bryn a little bit and we’re getting excited. May first is not all that far away. It’s going to be hard to believe she’s real, but I hope we have a blast. And I’m up for as much sightseeing as they want to do, or sitting around and catching up. Perhaps it will be really nice weather and we can sit outside. I can’t wait to see how Colin reacts to Bryn and Jack’s (also a dog) “Conversations.” Since Bryn is a dog trainer, dogs don’t move unless she allows it, and all dogs naturally do it around her because she just exudes alpha. How can you not, after working with primates all those years? And in terms of “screaming alpha,” it doesn’t have to do with anything but soft, quiet strength.

Alpha males in the human population are picking up lessons from animals that they never meant to give. Alphas lead from the back, they take care of everyone else. They’re the ones you go to in a problem. They are not parading around telling people they’re they alpha because no one has to ask. It just shows.

I think we’re both getting used to each other’s strengths, and picking up where the other feels weak. I can’t divine things over text all the time, so I would say that I talk to Bryn on the phone and Video Messenger most frequently than I do anyone else. What I’ve discovered is that having female energy around me is enough- that if I don’t meet a life partner, I’m happy as I am. It’s fine for Zac to have other partners, because I set up our relationship that way. I knew he already had partners, and I was prepared to be fairly low on the totem pole because I didn’t want to be a partner in the capital p sense of the word. I’m too busy a writer…. just because I write in volume doesn’t mean I’m not saying anything of substance…..

All of the comments I’ve gotten in the last few years have proven to me that’s not true, so that’s not a dart that can hurt. My readers have been with me through everything, the good and the bad. They don’t act like the universe has punished me for a decision because it hasn’t. I go on to a new thing depending on the options in front of me, knowing that how it worked out is how it’s supposed to be. I said something yesterday that I didn’t clarify in the moment. I have before, but not just then. When I said that it wasn’t my destiny to belong to one person, but to many, I didn’t mean my partners. I meant all of you. That this is not a joke or a hobby, it’s been a portfolio I’ve built over 20 years.

Who has peer reviewed me?

  • Martina Navratilova
  • Margaret Cho
  • Wil Wheaton
  • Eden Kennedy
  • Ernie Hsuing
  • Anil Dash
  • Jonna Mendez
  • Mary Karr

Therefore, I don’t need external validation to know that I do help people more than me. I say things of substance all the time, and there is nothing on God’s green earth that will ever convince me otherwise. That’s because not only have I looked at my own writing and thought, “I like that line.” It was one Supergrover liked, too. There’s no more substance to my writing than that. I’ve already made it. I’m done. My career will never get any better, and I swear on a stack of Bibles.

That’s because I will never in my lifetime be seen the way I am right now, the way I have been for 10 years.

If SuperGrover saw Daniel’s “I will skewer you” letter, I bet you anything her reaction was “Fuuuuuuuuck. Let me get my purse. :::::sigh::::” Even if she never reads this entry, that image made me fall over with laughter, because it was like the beginning of “The Incredibles.” “Can’t you just stay clean for one minute?! I just cleaned up!” Like, the newsreel is playing in my head and I’m cackling. I need laughter right now, and it feels good.

You know, even when you’re no longer speaking, if you don’t dissolve a company, it still exists. Therefore, I choose to believe that Leslie Lanagan & Pet Monsters on a Fraying Leash™ is still intact. In fact, I have added new members. It’s just a longer flight for Bryn….. but that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t do it.

We’re big enough to face our feelings head on, and it’s so hard to fool a dog trainer that I stopped trying long ago because I figured out quickly I couldn’t keep up with her. Because of this, I have an innate interest in seeing her on the floor of Congress. 😉 She wouldn’t do it, I’d just like to see what happens when I just light the firecracker and she goes.

She also doesn’t care that my blog makes me sound like a dick.

I’m so blessed that I have friends who support me no matter what, no matter when. Even Supergrover. How do I know? She told me.

So, she may be far from my heart, but not from my soul. It’s only now that I realize because our communication was so poor, I was never receiving any of the messages she was trying to send and vice versa. I don’t know that we can ever be trusted to create new patterns again. But I know us. If we knew the other was in trouble, we’d have to sit on our hands to keep from moving and even that wouldn’t last long.

She gave me the confidence to believe that I am the one who knocks, and not in a scary way. It’s just an illustration that I am old enough to have boundaries and limits. I am old enough to decide what I want to invite in and keep out of my life. I don’t have to accept the status quo, as in trying to fit in where I wasn’t wanted. What I found was that Daniel loved the idea of being married, but didn’t seem to like me much. He only had two problems with me- everything I did and everything I said…. because it was always a blame game instead of working together.

I decided that it wasn’t going to get any worse because I wasn’t playing another game. He’s still playing games, but all of his e-mails are going to Spam, because I’m not interested in reopening the discussion or reengaging. He’s right- I can’t block him from my blog. But I can limit my exposure to him. I have to trust my instincts on this one, and my instincts say he’s not the right change for me now….. when people tell you who they are, believe them. I could forgive Daniel being totally avoidant last time around, because we were both under pressure. I did not see enough change in him to warrant continuing the relationship because I’d say things like “I want to work with you,” and I never got more than “I’m tired of being yelled at every day.” First of all, I never even turned on a caps key.

Second of all, I was talking about how we could integrate both Cora and Daniel into a house with me- there wasn’t anything about which to yell. I didn’t ask for heat, but I got a lot of it.

And it’s not about him. It’s about me not wanting to take a gamble that my next ten years are going to be exactly like my last. I’d like to make new mistakes now, because I have people in my life who allow me to do that, because they know they’ll always make new mistakes, too.

I know this is all over the place, but what’s different about that? I just wanted some room to stretch out, process the last week or so, and enjoy some time with solo packing and getting ready for my new house. I really am excited. It’s time for a change all around.

The funniest thing that’s happened is that there are two Colins in my phone. I was telling one that we should overhaul a few old iPods and see how much we can get for them- Bluetooth, USB-C, etc. Colin responded that he might have an old one I could play with, and I said, “oh, that wasn’t meant for you, but I love that you just responded like this was a perfectly normal thing to ask a housemate.” He laughed. I like that we’re doing all the good witty banter so that it’s not awkward when I get there.

David has already told me that he has a girlfriend, but I haven’t met her yet, and don’t know if/when I will. But it will be cool to know her and to have Colin meet Zac and Bryn. Bryn won’t be around all the time, but it’s good that they’ll know who each other are nonetheless.

It would also be perfect if Lindsay was here that week, but I’m not going to hope too high on that one. Lindsay is a mythical figure, both here and not here. I think she is secretly a mythical creature, and no one has ever bothered to prove me wrong. You wouldn’t either if you met her. She’s pretty invincible.

So, if Lindsay’s in town, now I have two fierce dragon women saying, “fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck……… let me get my purse.”

And now things are back to normal.

Fear While Changing Trains

Describe a phase in life that was difficult to say goodbye to.

First of all, :::checks notes::: WordPress, it’s “describe a phase in life in which it was difficult to say goodbye.” Just like it’s not “where’s the library at?” It’s “where’s the library at, asshole?” Never end a sentence with a preposition.

I do it a little bit.

Humor before I start diving deep this morning, because there have been many, many times in which it was Boyz II Men hard to say goodbye.

The first time it was a really hard transition was moving from Galveston to Naples the summer after first grade. I loved the beach (my sister did not- she used to run away from the waves saying “don’t. Don’t! Don’t!). I mean, she got over it…… she did get married in Galveston. The cultural difference between living on the island and living in small town Texas wasn’t hard because I didn’t like it. It was just a transition. I was especially close to my friends Asbury and Beulah Lennox, who kind of took over being my grandparents when my own grandparents were so far away. The bonus was moving about 12-15 miles from my biological grandparents, a complete change as well.

I do not do well with change, and I’m glad we moved in the summer so I could ease into it. Incidentally, since The War Daniel was not a member of our church, I didn’t meet him until September. I can’t remember when it was second or third grade when we made it official. 😉 I will say that it wasn’t until I met The War Daniel that I felt truly comfortable, the INFJ/INTJ people we have always been. We were the book nerds, the music nerds, and the ones who didn’t give a fuck if people thought we were weird. We both have this historical Jesus personality, we just come at it from different directions. He’s a thinker. I’m a feeler.

Editor’s Note:

Two things. The first is that “The War Daniel” is a play on words, because of John Hurt in Doctor Who- “The War Doctor.” Daniel was a Doc in the Navy, embedded with a team of Marines.

The second is that if I say that I or anyone else has a “Jesus” personality, or that “it’s as hard to be me as it was to be Jesus,” I’m talking about his day to day life, not that I or anyone else has a Savior complex. Jesus cannot be much different than any current pastor (especially those in clerical collars willing to be arrested at protests), because he was a rabbi, though they didn’t have that term back then.

Incidentally, there is also no evidence one way or the other that Jesus wasn’t married, and it’s been a debate for centuries; think Catholic vs. Protestant- Catholic priests are told they have to bear the burden of ministry alone, because they can’t love everyone if they love only one person that deeply…. takes away objectivity or something. The Protestants, like The Avatar, discovered that pastors could not do it without a support system. His partner could have been anyone from John, the Disciple marked as “whom Jesus loved,” and I have not looked at the original Greek or Hebrew to see if there’s more context, like philia or agape. But right now, I’m willing to say that there is no evidence Jesus was gay one way or the other, either, because there is also a debate on Mary Magdalene.

Supergrover actually sent me several novels about this, and it’s basically that Jesus and Mary were married and were writing their own Gospel, the Book of Love. It does make sense. After Jesus died, the story is that Joseph of Arimathia (rich merchant) helped Mary and the children escape to France. It is, of course, fiction….. but based on the little evidence we do know. It’s just been too long, there’s too many questions that will always be unanswered. So, Jesus is who you need him to be, not the other way around…… as long as you realize that Jesus did not come here only to comfort the distressed. He came here to also distress you out of your comfort. No power over. Power with. It’s why he was peaceful about it, but probably hated the Sanhedrin because they were the most vociferous Jews regarding law and very little around compassion, which has no bearing on the church today.………….

I think what The War Daniel misread as anger was actually fear. We should have video called more before he went to rehab, but we’re *both* writers, and lapsed into that personality way too easily…. which took away too much of our compassion. I also know that being in a relationship your first year out of rehab is absolutely not advisable, so when we got engaged, I kept dating Zac because it really didn’t bother him. Because Zac is poly, Daniel knew he was no threat. That if Zac and I are building a life together, it consists of exactly what is happening now. I have so much love for him because he’s a solid dude as a friend and as a boyfriend. How our relationship is supposed to go is unknown. I just know that we probably won’t get closer than we are now. Neither of us has the time.

It wasn’t that we were rushing into anything, we were just each other’s end game. Daniel didn’t offer to marry me because of anything but I needed it for the health care and benefits as a military dependent. And it was his idea not because I wanted it, but because he saw I needed it.

So, the hardest transitions I have to talk about today are the summer before I met Daniel, and the months after he left.

The reason I chose to write about this instead of the transition after my mother died is that I just can’t go there today. So, I will tell you what I was feeling in the moment, instead. It is so raw and real that if you are also in grief, it might help you as well.

The ones who have helped me through all these transitions just being kind enough to sit with me and listen.

Military Intelligence… Not an Oxymoron

Who are your favorite people to be around?

When my bipolar was flipping me out, I decided to check myself into the psych ward at Methodist Hospital because something just wasn’t right. My mood and behavior were all over the place. The first time I felt better was twofold. The first is that I discovered they had the good ice in the cafeteria, the kind you get at Sonic or Dairy Queen. There was no hour of any day that I didn’t have a 32 oz cup filled with that ice and whatever they were serving that day. Sometimes it was orange juice. If I was lucky, I could find a Diet Coke. Mostly, it was just water because the drink didn’t matter. The second is that once I had a drink in my hand, it was time to go find the best friend I had that week. He was a Viet Nam vet.

Our story starts when I walked up to him and said, “what are you in for?” He said, “murder.” I never left his side after that. 😛 I actually got mad at a nurse over his situation, because he said that the beds were too high for him to get into them (he was in a wheelchair). I talked to a nurse about it, and she said, “that’s not your problem to worry about. That’s ours.” I said, “well then, it looks like you need to do your job.” I give no fucks when it comes to nurses, because they do stupid shit all the time. I was a persona non grata after that, but I could give a shit. They were making my friend’s life harder…. and they are not gods. In fact, I got in really big trouble when he got let out a day before me and I hugged him goodbye. They screamed at me that there was no hugging.

What they didn’t know is that I’d been taking a shower with my roommate all week because she told me she was afraid she was going to cut herself in the shower. She and another person on my ward put everything in perspective for me because my roommate was trying to kill herself in the hospital and wanted support to not; one of the women in my cohort had a big red, angry X on each of her wrists. I did what I always did in that situation- started taking care of everyone else but me, because I was also halfway to “Spongebob Headstone,” but what pulled me out of it was realizing that I was trying to get better and they had a longer road than I did. It made me irrationally angry at the nurses and all they didn’t see. They’re not the sharpest knives in the drawer at times.

For instance, once my stepmother left her umbrella at the nurses’ station and said, “put my name on it so no one else takes it.” In what world does that not mean “put a note on it?” They wrote her name on her umbrella in Sharpie. I could go on, but I won’t. That example is enough to cover A LOT of ground.

The reason I felt so comfortable with the Viet Nam vet is that one of my best friends in Portland worked for the motor pool in the Army. He taught me everything I know about cars, and though I can do some things on my own, my favorite thing is for a mechanic to stand over me and tell me if I’m doing it right. For instance, much easier to bleed brakes with a buddy. When we got to Houston, we put power steering on Dana’s car because it came with rack and pinion. Our next door neighbor was a mechanic, and he said that he was really impressed that we managed to do it all in the driveway instead of in a shop.

My dad bought Dana’s car, and then her parents gave her some money, so he told her that she could be in charge of buying my car to pay him back. She never did, and I don’t remember why. I just remember that my friend and I did probably $2,000 worth of work on her car for free, and even that wasn’t enough to make her realize I needed a car as well.

It worked out okay because Dana didn’t have a job and could take me where I needed to go. But it wasn’t the same. My brother in law ended up giving me his old car instead. It was a Toyota Corolla, and I had more fun with it than the law should have allowed (but I never wrecked it, a miracle with my eye situation).

Now, by Dana buying me a car, my dad was not talking about a brand new one. He knew that I could work on cars, and our mechanic was still here. So, I could buy a beater and add everything I wanted aftermarket. I just don’t want you to think that she got the old car and I was supposed to get “the new one.” I wanted an old Saturn just like hers.

I believe that hearing this story was why my friend laid it out and said, “you need to get away from her, because she steps all over you and you don’t even notice.”

He was right. I let her get away with far too much because she’s a very strong personality and I am an introvert. At first, it was perfect because she could be the person that dragged me out of my house. Over time, her extroversion led her to easily be able to steamroll me because I wasn’t interested in arguing about something. Whatever she wanted to do was fine. I didn’t realize how much of myself I was losing in the process.

When I moved to DC, both in 2001 and in 2015, my number of military friends doubled just because of the neighborhood. For instance, on our street alone we have retired military, retired intelligence, and retired Secret Service.

To be retired from these things does not mean you are old. Zac is going to retire from the military next year. I think that will make him 36 or 37. I say this to prove that our neighborhood is not all old fogies like me. 😛

One of the first dates I had when I got here was with a spy who was on loan to us from MI-6, working on a human trafficking project. Now, I do not have any idea in the slightest why she told me she was MI-6, but I don’t think I was being catfished or anything. Maybe in England it’s not illegal to say you’re part of (at the time), her majesty’s secret service.

It was Thanksgiving night, and I was busy with my family. I was very late, and she rightfully left quickly. I was very happy about that, because I realized that I was about to get on the wrong train. For instance, if I dated her, it would have been harder to date Zac. He does not need me to have anyone on my contact list that works for a foreign intelligence agency….. and I can’t get away from his contact list because I’m one of his partners.

It kind of makes me worried that CIA or any of its derivatives would see my interest in intelligence as threatening, because I don’t want to know anything that’s classified. I’ve sought out retired spies because I want to know history before I start writing fiction. The operations don’t even matter. What does it take to do the job? What kind of personalities are in the room? Who are the people who Get Shit Done, and who are the people who would write your name on your umbrella with a Sharpie?

Though John le Carre has actually taught me more about this than my retired spy friends, because his whole schtick was showing MI-6 as it really is. There are lazy government wonks and amazingly good spies and they all inhabit the same building. I have no doubt that there is a real place like Slough House.

Speaking of which, I just realized why the show is called “Slow Horses.” It’s a play on words for “Slough Housers.” In the US, Langley is sort of “Slough House,” because if you make a mistake at CIA, you have to stay at the head shed and work a desk job. Or maybe you get sent to a country no one really wants as an assignment, and it’s not Chief of Station. It’s akin to starting off as a chaiwala (for my Indian friends).

It reminds me of my friend Stephen Johnson (now deceased) who thought he was going to be assigned to Viet Nam because it was that era (not a spy, a diplomat for State as far as I know). He said he ended up in the wilds of Montreal.

Dana always said that one of her great aunts was a spy. She was right. I went through a thousand interviews with case officers/diplomats, and I found her. I was looking for Stephen, and she also popped up. Very much a part of the whole Viet Nam clusterfuck Stephen wanted to avoid. She was there for some of the most horrific things each country did. I seem to remember that she was there when Dien Ben Phu fell. She was long dead by the time I married Dana,  but she would have been one of the people that I would have wanted to hear everything.

One of the things that I hope The Agency gets if they ever come after my blog is that I’m trying to get enough facts to write a book, not to take down the agency itself. I find myself learning more through conversation/e-mail than I do reading books, though I do a lot of that, too. I just use both modes of learning because books are for plot, retired spies are for characters.

It also makes a difference if you’re talking to someone in a public facing job or a private one. Those are two different stories, always…. and both relevant.

But even if CIA was so interested in my writing that I got put in jail over it, at least I’d know what to say when they asked me what I was in for….. “murder.”

The Food Doesn’t Matter

What’s your favorite thing to cook?

Before we get started, I just wanted to tell you that I am willingly using my iPad today because oh my God. I refuse to code in anything but a monotype font. It has been 15 years since I’ve used anything but “Droid Sans Mono.” On my Android, I still do. That being said, when I dug into the app iOS app “Koder,” one of the recommended fonts was……. wait for it……… Helvetica. I’ll take a screenshot of the app so that you can see its ultimate superiority over Arial, the font that was so good Microsoft made a knock-off of their own…….. instead of buying the font from the actual artist. Seriously, fuck them. They did what people do to artists all the time. Although perhaps Steve Jobs had a non-compete with the artist so that Microsoft had to rip off Arial. I will be finding a documentary on YouTube shortly.

I absolutely loved the doc “Helvetica,” because it shows the artist, and just how many street signs are made with it in how many countries (it’s a lot). But, even still I had to justify switching from monospace. I had to sit there and justify it for a little bit. In the end, it was “you’re a writer…. you don’t code that much, anyway….. bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. I just love fonts an autistic amount. And now I’m sitting here looking at the way I’ve loved Macs since I was 18. I had a Mac SE in my room in high school, and it was my favorite computer ever because it’s the last one I had that didn’t connect to the Internet. I want a computer from 1990, Zac just bought a word processor and called it a day.

Word processors don’t have Helvetica. But maybe e-Bay has a Mac that old. On second thought, I’d rather have one of those old as shit Mac laptops, because even though they’re much heavier than a normal laptop, I’d rather write with the computer in my lap as opposed to my desk. My desk chair is crap and I don’t want to change it because nothing modern would match. In the end, I might give in because I really do like sitting at my desktop, I’ve just gotten used to lying in bed with my tablet and keyboard in my lap, because I’m 10 times more productive that way and both my tablets have everything I need to work and play.


One of my readers said that she felt anxious I responded to her in a blog entry. I did it so she wouldn’t be intimidated by the length of the reply, because it wasn’t personal at all. She said something that stuck with me, that she’d been married for decades and we had completely different outlooks on relationships. I thought that was so universal that it was a blog entry all on its own. That yes, people do have different outlooks on relationships because there are so many permutations of human behavior that nothing in this life is a binary.

She’s not wrong, and neither am I. And I’m pointing it out because of the stigma that comes with ethical non-monogamy. I like what Jada Pinkett said on the matter. “Will is his own man. He has to make choices that make it ok for him to look himself in the mirror.” She made the point that she doesn’t control his time, and that’s how I feel about Zac. I do not get to dictate what he does while he’s not with me. I’m just here to receive him, because he offers me so much solace even when we can’t be together all that often. He’s cooked for me, and of course it’s always fabulous. That’s my boyfriend cooking for me. I’ve talked to him many times about cooking for/with him, but he says that he’s just always had this outlook that you could for guests. I am so thankful he’s not impressed I’ve cooked professionally.

“Food is hospitality. When you reject someone’s food, you reject them.” -Anthony Bourdain

Which is why my favorite meal to cook is never about the food. The food doesn’t taste gorgeous because of something I did as a professional cook. It tastes better depending on who’s at the table. I don’t celebrate the people who aren’t here, I value the ones that show up. It’s taken a lifetime to learn, this not yearning for someone who isn’t here, because again, that goes back to 14 years old. I made people priorities when I was only an option, and could even see it and not give up.

I have deep and abiding abandonment issues from my emotional abuser, probably why I lived in Portland for so many years. I had to prove to myself that she wouldn’t abandon me, and found out when I got there that was not the case.

With Supergrover, I don’t know what would have happened if I’d kept my big mouth shut a lot of the time, but I do know that her hotheaded anger fed mine. My dopamine and adrenaline went through the roof when she snapped at me. I don’t react well to that, and neither does she. But I can count on one hand the number of times she’s apologized for her own words, because it’s so much more convenient to believe that I am the sole cause of everything. I have no doubt that she’s telling people that I’m the most toxic person she’s ever met, because she couldn’t take accountability for shit when it was emotional. I know she’d send a fully armed battalion to remind people of her love if she thought someone was hurting me. What she cannot do is take in that I feel the same way about her. We just don’t have the same love language, and I became fluent in hers- acts of service. Over time, she became less and less interested in mine, words of affirmation. I would tell her that I felt bad she called me a dickhead all the time, and then all of a sudden I was enormously impressive.

So, in a lot of ways, I feel that we could have fixed a lot with one night where she was my sous chef. She’s a very good chef. Horrible line cook….. which means that what I wanted was being able to tumble and roll in those roles.

This wouldn’t be appropriate for us because we’re not a couple, but it illustrates a point.

One of the things that therapists do in age gap relationships, because they often become a big damn problem, is to ask the older partner if they ever lay in the younger one’s lap. If the couple says no, then generally they’ll make them do it in the office. Over time, the older one views themselves as wiser because of course they are, but not about everything. The problem becomes the older half parenting the younger, making their relationship a strict power dynamic rather than one that’s fluid.

She couldn’t lay in my lap. That’s all on me, but that’s what we lost that made me push her away. I didn’t like feeling that my letters were making her feel guilty and not knowing it for weeks on end. I hated that she always relied on her own instincts to figure out what I was saying, and she was often wrong. I have no doubt that telling me she’s “read through many lines” means that she’s read through the wrong ones because she had no context and didn’t ask for clarity so that I could reassure her that I wasn’t attacking her. She assumed I was attacking her, so we never got back what we lost.

Here’s why it’s such a shame. I told her that I was French-trained, but that I’d had friends who were Japanese-trained and either works well. She said she didn’t know the difference, so I sent her two pictures of me holding a knife over a cutting board and wrote “French” and “Japanese” on them. She said she kind of uses a mix of the two, and one of the things I would have told her if we’d cooked together is “there is no such thing. You’re holding your knife wrong. Here, let me show you. “Spider on a mirror, Supergrover. Spider ona mirror.”

The. Food. Doesn’t. Matter.

P.S. Look upon my beautiful font.

Helvetica

The Point at Which the Dream Changes

One of my readers, Susan, really got to me in one of my latest entries. In saying this, I mean that it made me think, not that it wounded me in any way. I turned it over and over in my head, because in order to understand why I’m okay with Zac having multiple relationships and me being unsure about whether I will in turn is not because I am scared of managing multiple relationships in person.

I am AuDHD. When I am with someone, I am truly present and in the moment. What I am not good at is getting back to people and being responsible about the feeding and upkeep of a relationship. But Zac being poly takes the pressure off me because he has a lot of the same thought processes as me. He hasn’t defined “neurodivergent,” but in my case……

As Zac’s roommate would say, “the ’tism is real.”

I do not know that when I am not with that person, I would remember to keep them in the loop. This is something that Zac and I have in common, because we understand each other on a truly deep level. We say “how dare you attack me like this?” a lot.

But the point is that neither Zac nor I feel possessive of each other in a way that would impede on our other relationships, because we’re both the kind of people with no executive function.

But in order to understand how I got here, you’d have to understand a journey that started when I was very, very young.

In my childhood, I was told that someday a man would come and he’d be everything I’d ever want. As it turns out, this was true. Even though we broke up, I wouldn’t trade my relationship with Ryan for anything in the world. We took a break for a while to give each other space, but that lasted all of a few years. Now, the chord that runs between us is major in terms of music and close in terms of geometry.

Our schedules haven’t lined up to see each other, but that hasn’t stopped us from chatting online or on the phone when he’s on his way to work. It’s been a while, but it doesn’t matter. We pick up right where we left off, because we both have such tender feelings about each other when we tap into our memories.

I do think that we were both really going through something and needed the experiences of being with the other people in our lives, especially because now Ryan is a father, his son in on the jokes in which I share. What I do not think for a moment is that I didn’t get that fantasy while it lasted.

At the same time I was dating Ryan, I was dealing with all the problems that my emotional abuser put in my head, because I’m autistic and turning those problems into solutions becomes a full-time job. I drifted from Ryan because even if she didn’t mean to do it, she still opened the door to my sexuality by giving me her college journal. It doesn’t matter whether she just didn’t proof it or whether it was on purpose because the effect was the same.

She became a monotropic thought process because I realized that for as many red flags as this woman had, I was on board.

This is not what I think now, but at the time I realized that I was good at active listening, good at pattern recognition on things she didn’t see, and genuinely made her feel better about herself. Nothing about her opening up to me physically was threatening because my excuse was that for a lot of history, our age difference wouldn’t have mattered a damn.

I did not realize it was emotional abuse until I was 36 years old.

Therefore, one of the reasons my relationship with Ryan was so incredibly perfect is that because we met at summer camp, I was away from this woman long enough to connect with someone else in a major way.

Therefore, I spent a lot of time with Ryan before the emotionally abusive relationship overshadowed everything else. If I use the same murder board as Zac’s friends, where my yellow strings are just as important as my red, I’ve been poly since I was 14 years old.

I never had a relationship after Ryan where I could make someone else my first priority, because even though I wasn’t with this person all the time, the monotropic thought processes didn’t go away in her absence. I have a feeling I’m giving a lot of clarity to a lot of people right now……….

So, when I dated my first girlfriend, she was there in the shadows. I’ve never had a relationship where someone isn’t lurking in the shadows, affecting my thought processes to the point where I’m taking my eye off the ball.

I lost being married to it, because when the emotional abuser went away, what I missed most about her were the years we were separated and writing letters to each other. It did a lot to heal the fact that she wasn’t in love with me, but definitely did want me as a yellow string (when it was convenient).

That’s because when we were only writing letters to each other, I had a secret world, an inner landscape to whom I’ve given very few people access. I don’t judge people by how well we get along in bed, but by how well we get along out of it. That’s why my platonic relationships are so important to me. I do not need the safety and security of a full-time boyfriend because I’m trying to be my own person. However, I do know that there is someone in my corner that I could call in any kind of jam. He might not be able to do anything about it, but he would to the best of his ability; I know that because of how I’ve seen him treat his friends over the last year.

Editor’s Note:

To Zac-

I see you. I take in a lot. They’re confused. We are not.…….. xoxo

Here’s where I also stopped believing in monogamy. So many women advertised it on their dating profiles that when I was looking for a partner, I didn’t know what any of the hell all that meant….. then, as I was doing the reading on polyamory, I started learning about AuDHD. Through the combination of all those subreddits, I could listen to other people’s experiences without replying.

I have found so many people that have been on my same pipeline, which runs thusly:

  • INFJ
  • ADHD
  • Coming out as queer
  • Autism (as a comorbidity)
  • Nonbinary
  • Polyamorous

There is a huge crossover between being queer (either through sexual orientation or gender) and neurodivergent. It’s not a circle, but the Venn Diagram is solid.

There is a huge crossover between being autistic and being INFJ, the personality that’s already a thousand years old when they’re born.

There’s a huge crossover between the number of autistic and queer people who have decided gender is not a thing.

And we all recognize that getting our neurodivergent brain is never going to happen, so we adjust our expectations on what can be expected of us in a relationship.

It hasn’t been my outlook on relationships for my whole life. I was single for five years when I met Zac, single for seven before I actually asked him out, and after a year am finally comfortable with how polyamory works and I’m a fan.

However, I would never have thought about it if I was hurting another relationship to do so. For instance, I wouldn’t have asked Dana to open our relationship because it would have hurt both of us…… we both would have felt like we were losing something with each other, not gaining…….. and when we were with other partners, they didn’t like us at all because we really only talked to each other, like we were the main characters instead of our girlfriends.

Part of this is true, part of it is that for a lot of our relationship, we weren’t in the same city; it was a big deal when she called, which added to our partners’ ire. I don’t blame them. But Dana and I would have been better off as friends from the beginning, because we were great at that. Once we dragged our whole family into it, things began to get messy.

I would have given anything at one point for that relationship to last the rest of my life. Just so many things went wrong so fast that staying monogamous was the least of my worries. I had to get out for my safety, and even if we’d had counseling, when you get hit by someone, you don’t take the chance it happens twice.

I’m never going to be one of those people who likes putting all their eggs in one basket anymore, because what I’ve learned is that it’s better for you to have more than one person to fall on. Your entire world doesn’t walk out the door at once. I still feel this way about Supergrover, because the way I wrote to her was so regimented that it feels like a bit of a loss….. not so much because of her, but because I’m having to reroute a lot of impulses. In some ways, I’ll never give those up,because I see things that remind me of her all the time.

Polyamory is a system adjusted to me, rather than me having to fit into yet another system in which I have to social mask my way through it. It’s easier not to social mask in front of Zac because since we’re both neurodivergent, he’ll always have empathy even if he can’t have sympathy.

He said something to me that meant a lot, which is that our relationship is not “cutesy.” I don’t want that type of relationship because it leads to “acting as if.” I’d rather have emotional bravery and he’s shown me he has it.

So, in short, it’s not that I never wanted a marriage that lasted decades. I could have pictured it with Ryan, Meagan, and Dana. It just didn’t work out that way. I think it ultimately turned out better than I could have imagined. In no world would I have gotten the space to write what I needed to write out of someone jealous, because they simply would have tried to sabotage my writing time because spending time together is obviously the most important thing in my life, and any time away from each other means that I need room to cheat.

That leads to the millions upon millions of partners justifying why it was right to go through someone’s phone. I feel like if you can’t trust your partner to the point where you feel you need to go through their phone, your intuition has already given you an answer…… and doesn’t make you judge, jury, and executioner when you have no moral leg to stand on invading someone’s privacy.

You don’t have to confirm how someone else feels. You have to confirm how you feel in therapy, because you’re not going to change someone else.

I have done too much trying to change people in the past by writing about them, and not because changing people works. People have to want to change from the inside out, and sometimes hearing how I really feel about something puts new light on what their behavior is doing to me, and it creates an understanding that wasn’t there before.

In a relationship, I find it’s more helpful to lead from the back. That if I lay out my insecurities first, you’re more likely to open up to me in return because I’ve made it look not so scary.

Here’s where things get tricky, though. The first is that I make it look easy. In order to lay out my vulnerabilities first, I had to learn how to do that over years. It is not something I learned on the fly, it is something I’ve learned over my whole life.

I’ve always been an observer to human behavior, and I remind myself of Dominick Dunne when he used to write columns for Vanity Fair, covering the trials of the “rich, and the very, very rich.” In some ways, I feel like I’m trying to be Rachel Maddow, weaving my experiences in and out so that my emotional connections and how they come together are as researched as my intelligence special interest turned up an autistic amount.

This is because it’s one thing to get a soundbite from someone, and rare to get an essay, particularly one that goes through an entire range of emotions about one person. Understanding that range of emotion in a person is very important to communication with them, because it gives them more context on me than I will ever have on them.

However, just like with my readers, I have a bubble with them, too. Just like I invite my readers to be vulnerable in the comments, I invite my friends to be vulnerable by opening up to them in person (as well as I can without stumbling over my words because it’s verbal). People tell me things and both love and hate it. I do not stop writing about someone when I’ve said something that they haven’t liked. I’ve stopped writing about them altogether because they’ve proven that they aren’t supportive of me as a writer, because doing that doesn’t look like only being adored. You’ll get your moments, I promise you. But you won’t get all of them, because no one can.

We are divine in our messiness, not in our ability to keep things under control.

All of my thought processes combine to make me “messy,” and honestly one of the things I started wondering when I started exploring poly was whether it was actually fair to be this intense all the time around one person. No one can be my everything because they’ve all burned out under that plan.

But again, I believed the fairy tale. In some ways, I got it.

But there came a point when the dream just changed.

Hold On to Your Butts -or- I Hope You Like to Read

Think back on your most memorable road trip.

Before we get started today, I have to give a shoutout to Susan. When I went back over her comment on yesterday’s entry, I realized what she was actually saying and I laughed til I cried. She said, “I’m surprised at what’s coming up for people in response to this ‘innocent’ question.” I was confused because I thought I’d asked a question in the writing and I was slow on the uptake as to which question she meant……. and then I realized that THE WRITING PROMPT was a question. Face palm. Yes, the writing prompt was completely innocent, and it didn’t take me all the places I could have gone because I have so many food memories.

I stopped taking road trips when I stopped driving, but I do love them. Zac was kidding me about being a bad driver, which is valid. But when I didn’t have a choice, I drove. I got better with age, but my last wreck came from my last road trip. When I tell you the circumstances, you probably won’t be surprised. Just yet another time autism ate my lunch.

I think deeply about things, to the point of the exlusion of everything going on around me. As a driver, this is not ideal. I think everyone is like this to some extent; they get lost in their own little world and then all of the sudden, there’s a car there….. I’d just talked to my first girlfriend after years and years, and I can’t remember what it was about the conversation that had me tripped up- mostly that it had been so long and I had absolutely no idea why she ghosted me in the first place.

She came out of hiding to say she was sorry my mother died, and then nothing ever again. Because basically what I realized is that she had the ability to control my emotions because mine went up and down as hers did. If you’ve read any of my writing in the last 20 years, you know this is not an unusual thing for me. I’m an INFJ. I take on every emotion in the room, good and bad.

I did what I always did back then when I was upset. I went to Waffle House. Or I tried. The one I used to go to when I lived here before was out in bum fuck Virginia, but there was one on my side of the river in Frederick. So, off I go for salvation- which in this case was going to be a triple order of hash browns with chili, cheese, and onions. It’s my emotional support junk food.

Frederick isn’t really that far; I’m not sure that a Marylander would think of Silver Spring to Frederick as a road trip, but it was memorable. I ended up in the hospital when I took a curve too fast and slammed into a guardrail. I hadn’t been drinking (as opposed to what normally happens when you go to a Waffle House), I was just lost in thought and missed a sign for a 25mph speed limit while coming around…… or at least, I thought I did. The cop who came to ticket me (deservedly, I was really nice about the whole thing and so was he), he said that it wasn’t marked on this side. It was marked on the other side of the freeway. I remained cool and calm, but on the inside, I was livid. How is a sign a half mile away going to help me in this situation?

So, yes, I was driving distractedly, but I surely cannot be at fault for everything that happened that day if a curve was that dangerous at 30mph and unmarked. Seriously, five miles over at the entrance to a freeway and I went up on two wheels. I took my lumps, and I’ve never driven again…. unless I was in Texas and Lindsay and I were going to our grandparents’ houses or something (they used to live in the same town- our step-grandparents lived about six miles away). And even then, that’s only happened once.

Lindsay likes to control the driving and the music. You have no choice in this matter. 😉 I just don’t mind because she listens to things I’ve never heard before. For instance, Charlotte Cardin…. she’s a Canadian who had her premiere American concert at Union Stage, and we got to be there. Just a core memory all the way around.

Oh, wait. I did drive on one of our road trips, and it brings me to a really funny story even though :::waves hand::: this is not the road trip you are looking for.

When I was about 23, my mother went with her church choir to perform at Carnegie Hall. Lindsay, Kathleen, and I couldn’t get tickets for the performance, but my mom invited us to meet her in New York and just bum around. I think we spent the night? Not sure, but I put in a text to Lindsay to see if she remembers. If she gets back to me “before publication,” I might be able to shed some more light. I want to say we stayed at The Time hotel, but I’ve spent a couple nights in New York and I may be mixing up trips………

But anyway, when we were kids, my dad left an entire pound of sliced turkey in the trunk of his car. We didn’t find it for weeks. When we finally found it, my dad called it “Lanagan Lunchmeat Syndrome.” So, at one point, I think Philly, we stopped at a gas station to get sandwiches because Washington to New York is really not that far. We just needed a snack. So, that was a good move right up until I didn’t notice that Lindsay left half a sandwich in the back seat of my car for like, six weeks, so I know that Lanagan Lunchmeat Syndrome is genetic. I’m sure I’ve celebrated it more than once since then… Oh, wait. I definitely have because I can’t remember whether it was Dana or me, but she definitely knows about “Lanagan Lunch Meat Syndrome.”

The reason I can’t remember is that Dana didn’t change her name legally, but we were both Mrs. Lanagan to our friends. That’s because at the time we were thinking about having kids. We didn’t, of course, but at the time it made sense for us all to have the same last name and she had cousins with her last name and I didn’t. So, we both answered to “Lanagan” in the kitchen and I don’t believe I have ever been more touched when they called her and she answered to it. Plus, it was fun calling her “Naganalanad.” Oh, and we had two other nicknames. Dana introduced me to one of her customers that always called her “Trouble.” So, when he said, “hey, Trouble,” she introduced me as her wife and he nodded to me and said, “Mrs. Trouble.” I don’t remember what I said, but it was some version of “you have no idea.”

But in the original road trip instance of me showing signs of “Lanagan Lunch Meat Syndrome,”, we didn’t spend much time together. The part I really remember is driving down West Side Highway and the water being so incredibly beautiful. This why I wanted to go to New York, Zachary. He only gets the full name when I’m play upset.

No, I was telling everyone in another entry that I’d like to spend some actual time in New York people watching, because that’s the one thing I’d never done. Just gotten a table at an outside café, probably with a newspaper so I’m not incredibly obvious as to all the staring I want to do. How do New Yorkers live? How do they survive? I think my answer would be to slowly become Fran Lebowitz….. and honestly, I’m not even sure I’m not her already. I am 46…….

I have not had many days lately where I’m not absolutely as cranky as she is, but she’s brilliant so a lot of funny comes with her outlook/attitude. I suppose Fran is a better archetype for me because Harper Lee was much more agoraphobic than I am (though I do get that way sometimes). Fran does speaking engagements that are basically just interviews with one person and I think, “I could handle that. It’s just one person.” She also loves being at home with her books and writing, she doesn’t feel trapped there.

I saw a meme that spoke to me yesterday (the reason why I have trouble in conflicts with neurotypical people), literally to my core because it says so much about my emotional abuser, then Meagan, Kathleen, Katharin, Angela, Supergrover, and to a certain extent, Meagan and Dana (that’s because they were the only two personalities I’ve dated/been partners with that deviated from the pattern and got into it once I was just, so………….. meeee.

The meme said, “you don’t like dominant women because you’re submissive, you like domaninant women because you’re autistic and they’re direct about what they want.” I can 100 and crazy percent agree that this is why I thought Meagan was right, that we would have been good partners for each other as adults if we’d tried, because she was an athlete and is now a massage therapist. That means she is driven to succeed and also didn’t completely steamroll me every chance she got.

She was in touch with her fallibility, when a lot of women aren’t. When emotionally unavailable people shut down, whatever it is that they’re upset about becomes inflexible and there’s not a lot of compromise. I have come to realize over the years that this is not personal in any way and just to distance myself from those people. It’s not because I don’t love them to the moon and back (even Kathleen, because I’m determined not to be bitter).

The feeling I had with Meagan where there were some things I felt strongly about and some things I did was why my relationship with Sam tripped me up for a bit. I did not feel that I was absolutely steamrolled until I put all the puzzle pieces together. Just wire monkey all the way around when I desperately needed cloth after a bad relationship beforehand….. and there were seven years between Dana and Sam, so it was a very big deal for me to let my guard down even that much. So, the first red flag is that she felt responsible for my transportation because she had a car and I didn’t. Not once in three weeks did she say, “I’m going to be at X. Meet me there.”

In fact, I don’t think she ever would have, because she’s a mom and wants to take care of everyone, overextending herself in the process by putting something on herself that just didn’t need to be there………. and the biggest red flag as to why I originally said no to our first date. She picked on me for not having a car.

I told her that if we worked out, I would think about buying a car because it wouldn’t just be about me. I’d need to be able to get there faster if she was stuck for child care or whatever (I never wanted to be the stepmom unless she asked me, just mom’s girlfriend who lets us get away with murder- relative, because they’re pretty much the perfect kids.

I didn’t have the money to buy a car currently and if I did come into enough money to buy a car, I wasn’t sure it was the safest option for me unless I bought a Tesla, the only way I’d let the kids ride with me because of the technology. I also said that I was waiting for other car companies to get their adaptive driving tools in their own cars because Elon Musk is a tool. So, from the very beginning, me not having a car was a straight up problem……………. FOR HER.

It was a road trip to see her, but not any longer than I would have taken to see Zac, just in the other direction. She lived near BWI, and the train ticket on the MARC was $18 round trip. If Sam wasn’t available to pick me up, or just didn’t want to, it was close enough to Uber without spending an arm and a leg. And not just to her house- it was a small town. I could have met her anywhere, without, I might had, having to pay for or find parking.

The other thing is that Sam told me from the very beginning that she was just starting a successful clinic and she really didn’t have time to date. That she didn’t even know if she could see me after our first date. This did not sit well with me. I said, “it looks like you’re only looking for a girlfriend for a weekend, and I’m not into that at all. She promised that no, it had nothing to do with that, it was only timing both with her business and with the kids’ dad (we weren’t even close to being introduced- that would have been straight up insane). The one thing the kids did know is that their mom was dating someone, and if it worked out they might meet me, but she wanted the kids to know she was dating in case I accidentally left something at their house, etc.

So, I know that Sam wasn’t as shallow about all this as she seemed. She was trapped between two worlds; the one where she wanted a successful business, and also wanted to throw her whole heart into a relationship because she didn’t know how not to do that. Frankly, until I’d been dating Zac for a year, I didn’t know how not to do that, either. It took time and patience to learn, because negotiating emotional boundaries doesn’t wig me out the way it used to.

I was actually talking to Zac about this, that because of the way I was raised, I was taught to see men as an authority figure, as all women are and fight against it our whole lives…. and that me being 10 years older made me realize I wasn’t scared of him. That I actually was coming from a place of wisdom, but not always because Zac is every bit as intelligent and creative as I am. I feel like I have met my match, and because I feel polysaturated at one person, I don’t feel the need to date more because now I’m the one that doesn’t have time for a full-on relationship because I am pouring my energy into all of you.

And we negotiate boundaries all the time, except that most of those are on my end. You get to see what you get to see, but I do have a third dimension…………. kind of. 😛

So, I am of two minds about the breakup. I was trapped in the same world she was- content to focus on my writing and not her exclusively so she wasn’t overwhelmed at work and at home. This led to two issues. The first is that I don’t know how long it had been since her last relationship, but she basically went into it feet first and rushed everything until it flamed out. She was scared she was going to do that with me, and I know it.

You don’t have jokes like me calling her “Wilhousky” if you don’t get each other on a deep spiritual level. I am lyric soprano, and she’s an alto with mezzo tendencies….. so basically, the same kind of soprano as me. Not full of herself, first of all, because most lyric sopranos are. It’s supposed to be my job to be the egotistical nut bag, but I’m not because I’ve watched those absolute bitches for years and I will have no part of it. I already know that with pieces that really fit my voice, I am unstoppable all on my own. I don’t need to compare myself to anyone else at any time…… and Sam felt the same way.

Plus, her house was big enough that if she wanted a grand piano, I could have brought her one. 😉 But that would have taken years to build, and she was so ready and yet not. She felt it was too soon to jump in feet first, yet didn’t have any experience not doing so. Frankly, neither did I. But what I was comfortable with is loving her to whatever level she would accept, because I thought she would make a great friend if we weren’t together……… right up until she text messaged me to break up and when I asked her if we could talk about this, she said she didn’t think it would do any good. To me, that’s not an adult. That’s hiding. But there’s more to lesbian relationships moving fast than you might think. We are terrified of scarcity. We will lock down bad relationships and stay in them for years because it’s so hard to meet lesbians as a general rule.

In terms of queer women, we are very much known for this. My friend Beck and I are both surprised U-Haul has not built an entire ad campaign around it……… It’s not a secret, it’s history. As I said in a queer group on Facebook, “we don’t want to treat women like men. We don’t want other women to treat us the way men treat women. So we do what women have done for thousands of years….. use inference until someone gives or until both people die.” I don’t want to be this way with anyone anymore, because it’s never gotten me anywhere.

Most, if not all lesbians need to be told directly that you like them, because I promise you that most women have self-esteem issues and will not believe it just by watching across the room for interest. So, I feel very sorry for it, but that’s what gave me too much hubris with my beautiful girl. Because first of all, if she felt anything from my letters, I knew she wouldn’t tell me. The second thing is that I didn’t want to go my whole life without knowing the answer.

I was brave, crazy, and a total idiot. I think she didn’t tell me she was in a serious relationship because she knew it would hurt; it actually made things 10 times worse because she waited so long to lower the boom. In my opinion, she didn’t tell me things like that because she was afraid of my reaction…. because I would imagine that she has had to deal with male interest every single fucking day of her life.

With me, she got shy and absolutely didn’t know what to say. In some ways, and please forgive me, beautiful girl, just something I know to be true from other women that have been older than me- their internalized homophobia is stronger because of the era in which they grew up. Just because there are gay people around someone doesn’t mean they know how to react when someone is interested in them. My job was to make sure that it didn’t feel threatening, and at first, it didn’t. She was flattered and appreciated my thoughts.

But I was married, and basically, so was she. But there was a power dynamic between us that made our relationship stronger and different than the one with my wife. But those are all the parts I can’t explain, which is why I was such a dick in trying to shut the relationship down. I really thought she’d block me on everything and that would be the end of that.

She didn’t understand any of it because she wasn’t in love with me. She didn’t freak at seeing my picture in her feed all day. It wasn’t hard for her to see my status updates because she wasn’t reading into them the way I was into hers, because it hurt to be close and not. Nothing about our situation said that we were having the same experience, but that didn’t mean that either was wrong.

She said something to me that I’ve always remembered, because it gave me room in the relationship to be me. She said, “we both have different ways of being in this relationship, and that’s not wrong. I don’t know what else to say.” She didn’t have to- that one line was everything and I’ve remembered it for a decade. Most of the things that I’ve remembered, I’ve remembered for a decade.

That’s because those are the days in which we really opened up to each other without putting emotional guns on the table and seeing if they’d go off. What I have learned from this, many, many times, is that she must love me to some extent because no one in their right mind would have stayed and fought it out with me if they didn’t.

Even on our worst days, we still communicated. It might have been angry that day, but the connection was still there. What we didn’t have was my ability to call her out on her bullshit, when that wasn’t a problem before. There was an even more strict power dynamic because she thought I was always trying to rile her up and make her angry.

I always thought that’s because she doesn’t deal in deep emotions and I do a hundred percent of the time. So, what I thought of as opening up and trying to get closer, she thought I was “throwing emotional bombs and waiting for the shit storm to begin.” So, when she’d say that, I’d go into fight or flight and it never ended well.

But those angry conversations are the last thing that happened, not my intention for our friendship. She wasn’t always the one who escalated, but it was easy for her to blame stuff like that on me because I’d already hurt her once and she was protecting herself from it not happening again. I respect that part of it. I do not respect holding me to that wrong forever, because if I didn’t really mean that there was no friend zone, that whatever she offered me was great, I would have given up eight or nine years ago.

I feel like I’ve been acting the way women want men to react, to see that there’s more to life than sex with women and really take in that if women won’t give you that part of themselves, that doesn’t degrade their worth as a person and they still have so much to give you. So, if you take your shot and lose, walking off with your tail between your legs, you have probably lost a relationship that could grow into something strong and comfortable if you weren’t such a jackass about it.

My jackass days are over, because I cannot stress enough how my emotions happened completely organically so that even I was suprised by them, both that they existed at all and that they were intense. One year she was going on vacation and I offered to Skype her. She said, “sure,” and we didn’t make it happen. Our relationship devolved into more and more writing, less and less planning to get together as our two stories diverged in a wood, because it was deeper and more emotionally charged due to the wall between us.

But the thing is, if you’re used to really fucked up love, you’ll find it and stick with it because you don’t know anything else. I’m only calling her out on this part because she thought I was jumping up and down for attention by sending her emotional bombs. In reality, I knew that we’d be apart for a long time, so the letters were weighted so she’d actually have something to chew on before we got together again, even virtually.

But because she thought I was throwing emotional bombs, she’d reply immediately and ream me out. From my perspective, none of the messages she was supposed to get actually came across.

I wasn’t jumping up and down for attention by sending her “emotional bombs.” I was trying to clean up our toxic mess by asking her emotionally intelliegent questions, and doing things for her like occasionally picking up her afternoon coffee and sending her presents for Christmas, her birthday, and Galentine’s Day…… because I’m Leslie….. get it?

We need to remember what’s important in life: friends, waffles, work. Or waffles, friends, work. Doesn’t matter, but work is third.

The first time I sent Supergrover a Galentine’s Day present, she had never seen Parks & Rec, so it was a cute way to suprise her. She said that Feb. 13th would carry a new connotation henceforth, and it was so incredibly sweet. I knew then that she was my “poetic, noble, land mermaid.” It always makes me happy for her to feel happy at something I’ve done, and I feel all of that got overshadowed over time.

It was all my fault, In the Beginning.™

But again, I cannot abide people who forgive you on the surface and pretend everything is fine. My crush on her was not our only problem. Her problems were also on the table, and if I’m really honest, fed each other and also canceled each other out. I think we would have been a different “chosen family” altogether if we could have stopped the petty fighting and started the real one. There was no way to get closer by arguing over the equivalent of our preferred brand of toothpaste while ignoring the fact that we were both struggling underneath.

Editor’s Note:

I’m beginning to realize how long this is. Please excuse me. I took my Adderrall at 0630 and apparently it has kicked in….. JFC.

Now you know why Supergrover was overwhelmed. This entry is basically what one of my weighted letters looked like- I should have sent less of them, but she was my “first text of the day.” And in all honesty, that was all I needed from her. Just to be that person I could say good morning and good night to before I launched into a relationship that meant having to keep up with all that stuff. I knew she wouldn’t get jealous and wonder why I didn’t do it if I forgot or whatever, and I’m not even sure if she liked it or not.

And that became the root of my problem with her, and my problem with Sam. Because both women were emotionally unavailable, neither Supergrover nor Sam would have gone deep with me and said, “here are the things that are going right. Here are the things that are going wrong. Here’s things we can fix. Here’s things that are basic incompatibilities and we should move on….. because we’re wonderful, just not for each other.” I feel like I should have known this with both women a lot earlier than I did, and with Supergrover and Sam both situations resolved in much the same way.

Sam held in all her feelings about wanting to get close right away and also not having enough time for me and didn’t want me to be lonely all the time. What she didn’t know then that I know now is that we would have been as happy as Zac and I are because since he has multiple partners, he’s not dependent on me or vice versa. With Sam, if she’d wanted to be monogamous, it would have worked the same way. I would have been too involved in my own life to pay attention to the fact that she wasn’t always around.

And in fact, now I have an inside joke with one of his other partners, and I’m not sure she even knows it. I’ll use a fake name, but this is still really funny.

Leslie: No need for you to reply, just dropping a note here so I don’t forget. You are out of Diet Dr. Pepper. Karen and I would like a word. 😛 😛 😛

Zac: I’m just now headed for home after I have to stop for……. something.

And here’s the thing. He’s going to have to go to the store again if Karen won’t switch hit like I will. Zac knows that Karen likes Diet Dr Pepper and I like Dr Pepper Zero. It made me feel even more special when he walked in wiht my favorite (just like he would do for her), because Zac is the kind of man that remembers these things.

One date night turned into two because he bought us tickets for a cheese and beer tasting event.

So, the first night we hung out and watched “Sideways,” only the sexiest film in existence because Stephanie is a bad, bad girl. Then, the next night we went to the event at Fair Winds (it’s great, you should try it. It’s in Lorton.). Good lord I had flavors I never thought I’d find outside of Oregon. But I was good to myself. Too much alcohol is bad for my psych meds, so I tasted everything (a couple times), and then had a short Fruit Punch sour that absolutely blew my mind.

Then, it was still relatively early in the evening when we got home, so we watched “The Holdovers,” because we both love Paul Giamatii. Zac had heard a review (or maybe an interview with Paul) where the plot is basically “what if the guy from ‘Sideways’ was Edward James Olmos in ‘Stand and Deliver?.’ Now, I haven’t seen the movie to the end (I fell asleep because we were watching it on a tablet in bed), so I don’t know if he actually wins the entitled private school assholes over, but what I do know is that by writing that description of the movie, it’s making me laugh so hard I’m crying……. because here’s what I know.

Poor kids experience more physical pain. Rich kids experience more emotional pain because they’re surrounded by “safety.” Safety like a mom promising to take her son to St. Kitt’s for Christmas break, then calling him up while his suitcase is in his hand and saying he can’t go because it’s her honeymoon and she doesn’t want him to come. I think I only noticed one kid (not an American) who actually had a good home life. These kids are in boarding school because their parents have kids as status symbols and heirs, not the cuddlebugs they actually are. And, I’m actually not even sure that poor kids experience more physical violence, because I was talking about their neighborhoods. I am sure there are people across the income spectrum who think nothing of beating their children. Those kids learn to do everything to please their parents, so when their parents dump them, they realize that they’ll never please their parents and to find someone else…….. a large part of “Spare,” by the way. He calls out the African man who actually raised him and says it just like that. I think it would have been a dagger to the heart of any father that had feelings.

That’s why boarding school teachers and nurses are so important. They become the parents, especially for small kids. Very, very few parents send their kids to boarding school because they’re impressed with the education and truly want to give their kids a better life.

Boarding is not required at many schools. Imagine being such an absent parent that you can’t handle your kids sleeping in their own beds at night.

But I’m sure that school is also a refuge for those with alcoholic parents…… and that happens across the board, too, except kids who aren’t in boarding school don’t get a break.

I take all this in from thousands of interactions I’ve had with people over the years, often standing on my dad’s platform as a community leader (his last church was about 1600 members, so not a small sample size). I also read a ton of books on self-help, emotional intimacy, and conflict resolution. I realize that autistic rage and burnout cannot go unmanaged if I’m ever going to live with someone else, even a roommate. That’s because in my next house, I’d like to be closer and actually run a household together rather than every man for himself.

I think Zac and I would be great at this, but there are two reasons why that can’t happen. The first is that he just got a roommate about a month or two ago, and the second is that he has a hard and fast rule that romantic partners cannot live with him. I love this, and I also know that he’s said it’s not a hard and fast rule if I’m only looking for a short-term (maybe two weeks) place to crash if I’m waiting on an apartment or room in another group house (my first choice).

I also wouldn’t want to put Zac out in any way, so it would be perfect if I could crash while he was somewhere else so it didn’t feel like we were living together. The only reason I even consider him being a roommate is that I’d love him whether we were dating or not, and I have that outlook on our relationship. That I don’t know what the future holds, but my platonic relationships run just as deep and I can’t imagine a life in which we’re not coming up with book ideas and flipping each other shit while we do it. So, what I really mean is that no matter how much time we spend together, it is always quality because we’re a lot of fun.

The only thing I’m really trying to convince him of is just how beautiful a human being he is. It is not a “falling in love” sort of feeling, but recognizing a kindred spirit. We’re neurodivergent, so we have the same sense of humor- e.g. “are you suggesting object permanence is a problem?” I said, “Peek-a-Boo, bitch.” I’m laughing now even as I type this, but I still can’t believe he let me get away with that one. I’m lucky in that he’s military, because there’s very little I could say in which he wouldn’t just roll with it. And the best thing is that if something I said crossed a line and actually hurt, he’d be emotionally strong enough to tell me that. And, of course, now since he knows my sense of humor better, his digs at me are getting better and better….. to the point where I can’t wait to see what happens as we get to know each other even better. I think he is as divine as everyone else, and I want him to believe it. I believe in him, both as military, intelligence, and fiction….. plus blogs. It was a kick to be written about, and an honor…….. and then there’s things like this.

He sent me a leftist cartoon where Jesus is at the southern border with all the Mexicans trying to cross, and I said someting theologically literate and flaming liberal. He said, “commie,” and water came out of my nose.

I think it’s great that he’s an Atheist and also not offended by the teachings of Christ in the way that I use them (his criticisms of conservative, white supremacy apologist theology is valid and appreciated. Leftists need to do better at beating this down.). Sometimes, when I use a theological device in my writing, he’ll ask me what the story is behind it because he knows that I like religious discourse as an academic subject and not in any way trying to change him. We both have different ways of being in this relationship, and that’s not wrong. 😉

And now we’ve arrived at our last road trip. I need to go out into Virginia and see what’s available. I don’t need to be closer to Zac, that would just be an added bonus. No, it’s more serious than that, and something I can’t let go publicly. I just need to get all my ducks in a row regarding health care because I would be losing a hell of a lot if I couldn’t get reciprocity.

So, if you are a praying sort of person, black magic or white, ponder how this trip might turn out and wish me good luck.

Or drive.

In Another Life, Hood to Coast in One Day

Beach or mountains? Which do you prefer? Why?

I seem to have fixed my keyboard issues except for the “a” key. Sometimes it works, sometimes the repeat rate makes me insane because it slows my typing speed to a crawl. Even though I type very fast, I will not sit there and actively look at a typo. So, I did what you do in a tech situation for peripherals. If something breaks, buy a new one. The old one will fix itself immediately. Definitely worked on my Apple Pencil, and it was only $100 for that pro tip…. and you just got it for free.

I accept tips.

If you’re a consistent reader, you just laughed as hard as I did. I hope that when she bought her next Big Gulp with it, she got something good. I love sugar free now, buat as a kid, it was always a suicide…. which is basically a Long Island Iced Tea for a nine-year-old. It’s what we in the US call it when you fill your cup with a little bit of every soda on tap. It’s one of those drinks you remember fondly, and then you go have one out of nostalgia and realize why you stopped.

All of this is background information on why I prefer the mountains to the beach. In the mountains, I can both ski and write. I love to swim, I do not like the beach. I am not afraid of being stung or bitten as I have already been stung by Portuguese men of war. MEN. Apologies to Dana for not getting her out of the way fast enough when she said, “hey. What’s that floating breast implant?”

The funniest part of that incident was a scuba diver telling us to go to a convenience store and buy some chewing tobacco to soak up the stingers. Just mix it with water and make a paste. We needed more soda anyway. Sold. Dana insisted on calling my doctor stepmother. I said, “Dana, if I call her, she’s just going to say that we’re idiots for not believing the subject matter expert in front of us.” So Dana says she’ll call her. I could hear the whole thing and she wasn’t on mute….. The shit eating grin on my face at “ARE YOU CRAZY?” was legendary.

I see into people. I know I do…..

I walked away tremendously satisfied, but it was just another instance of how Dana stepped all over me. I didn’t see it until one of my closest friends pointed it out. That I’d taken on a tremendous amount of responsibility and he was the one that suggested that Dana bring me flowers the night I got home from my first day at work. That she was really thoughtless toward me so much more than I realized. This is not someone who pined for me. This was someone who drove with his girlfriend to help me move- he drove my truck from Portland to Houston with all our stuff, and then I gave it to him as payment.

It was so cool. When I first got it, he gave me a bumper number like the military. He asked me what I wanted, and without blinking I said, “11” (Matt Smith, my favorite Doctor). Then, he spray painted a Dalek on the door- and not even a minimalist symbol, either. It was a whole mood.

In short, this was not a play for me. It was “stop being blind.”

Seven years and I just thought she was loud and boisterous. It didn’t occur to me that especially after she got her DUI, I don’t know if she was drinking more or if she was just angry and felt guilty all the time, but the constant superiority over her memory being infallible and mine being crap didn’t earn her any favors.

I write about memories all the time, and I’m very good at it. I know this because my family says I remember those memories accurately, and you cannot feel good writing about your family until they tell you that. My mother had a very, very good memory and I got it from her. I hate it. I really, really hate it. This is because when I get into an argument with someone close to me- Dana, Supergrover, Meagan, whomever- I am very good about saying “this is a pattern and we need to change it…. and here are the six times it has happened before.” It’s not noticing. It’s not caring. It’s “throwing things back in my face.” Meanwhile, they’re moving the goalpost further away from accomplishing anything. Everything becomes all about my behavior and not attacking the problem together.

Sometimes I just want to be bad at remembering things. It’s not always pleasant. I don’t just remember the good things. It makes my writing better and my feelings disparate. Just like being nonbinary, it’s a spectrum. I have laughed and felt weird the whole time I’m writing…. yet this is not for me later today. This is for me in five years.

You get it today, but I won’t understand it fully until I’ve read it without context. What was happening in the room while I was writing. I don’t remember every entry, but I do remember the hard ones. “Go Tell the Bees” has been the hardest on me in years. Even though it wasn’t all the closure I needed, I did cry all the way through it, which meant several hours of gut-wrenching pain. I dragged it out of me, and I love it so much now that time has passed. In the moment, I published it and walked away. I later recorded it, and had to pause when it became too much.

Even last night when I read the prompt about beach vs. mountains, I thought about what our trip to Coos Bay would have looked like.

I realized after I’d fallen down on the job of trying to be the most perfect friend who ever friended that there was a big difference in my personality and my illness. That I didn’t give two shits about Michael. I’m in a solo-poly relationship, so obviously jealousy is such a problem for me. It was never anything about that. All my social masks failed at once and I was stumbling around, grasping at straws. But we’ve come a long way in 10 years. The last picture she sent me was so incredibly sweet.

I said, “I haven’t had a recent pic of you in a long time. Send me one? Nothing fancy, just want to match a name to a face. Don’t make it weird.” It is a goddamn portrait, the most beautiful picture I’ve ever seen of anyone because in that moment, she just turned the camera around on her front porch, and the way she’s smiling, I know she knows she’s looking at me and no one else. I’ve always loved pictures of her, but I’ve never had one where I just flat out asked and therefore I knew she was thinking of me. She said she must be getting soft in her old age if she was willing to send a pic to anyone, and my heart “grew three sizes that day.” It was a moment I’ll never forget, because she recognized it was a moment, too.

My allergies may or may not be acting up right now….. mostly because even though I love the mountains, I’d never go there ever again for one moonlit walk in our jeans and sweatpants, the uniform of Coos Bay…….. which is in the state where we started and created our own.

The First Chapter of Something, Probably

This entry is so long that it’s dedicated to all the people who have told me I should write a book.

One of the reasons that I love Carol so much is that she has two archetypes at the same time. She is a fictional character, but close to my heart because she has Lindsay’s personality and my special interest, which I’m learning about from Zac. He cannot reveal sources, methods, and locations, but that’s not helpful in fiction, anyway.

I want to know how intelligence officers and analysts work at the office, because even though Zac is not a spy (he works for a data collection agency) that world attracts a “type,” and that type just happens to be the one some of the characters in my biggest work in progress need. He is also neurodivergent, which adds to the mystery of how he personally deals with issues when he can’t talk about what’s actually going on and handles information differently- and companies/the government view disability differently across sectors. There are federal standards and unique cultures to every office. They can’t make autistic people look autistic because that’s illegal. So they make up bullshit language around autism that describes our behavior accurately, but not the reasoning behind it. We have to act neurotypical when we’re not or we’re severely punished.

That doesn’t look like disability in a performance improvement plan. That looks like rude, overemotional (meltdown), lazy (burnout/demand avoidance), inattentive to detail (ADHD), underperforming given intelligence (not in any way true at all) and potential (I’m smart as FUCK if you’re arsed enough to see it……. and everyone does until I exhibit a disability. This is also why I don’t do any better while married than I do while having a job. Talk to 50 autistic people. We agree.).

Not being strong enough to lift 60 pounds of flour when I just can’t, yet cerebral palsy, autism, and ADHD are a real thing and we should definitely accommodate you……… in the beginning, when I am social masking because either I’m trying to get a job or, more accurately, the process of sitting in a room with a couple of people and discussing the job with humor is a skill I have because the sensory load is at a minimum. This is tragic because I don’t want the personality of Elon Musk. I want his power, and not because I need it to lord it over people. I need it because I can make a job that revolves around neurodivergence instead of having to fit into a system.

There’s a reason I want to be like Oprah, Brené Brown, Martha Beck, Glennon Doyle, etc. It’s because they all created their careers and made their audience come to them so that they didn’t have to compromise who they were to be successful. I also know that some of them are neurodivergent, even if they aren’t ADHD or autistic. Depression gives you demand avoidance so deeply you can’t take care of yourself because you can’t make yourself respond to your own demands, either.

It’s what creates the need to sleep too much, eat too much, drink too much…. or go the other route and do none of these things, my route to making it through the dark. I drink with Zac when I feel the worst about myself because that’s when I perceive I can be hung over without incident….. then fuck around and find out. It’s why I like non-alcoholic beer so much. It’s the equivalent of having several “water rounds” without actually taking one. However, I’m not bothered at a party where there’s only hard liquor and soda, because I have no problem enjoying the mixers separately.

My favorites are Schweppes Bitter Lemon and Tom Collins mix, but I don’t drink them often because they have lots of sugar. Since I avoid sugar, I drink diet tonic water if it’s available, because you really, really can’t tell the difference when the forward note is quinine. You can’t even tell most of the time when there’s gin in it if you add lime. (Incidentally, my friend Mel says that when we meet up, she’s going to share a bottle of the finest Norwich gin they have to offer with me. Until then, my favorite gins are Hendricks (plain, I’m a purist) and Tanqueray Rangpur Lime. If I have to choose, Rangpur Lime and I’d rather have one martini with it than five with Tanqueray O.O, and not because I wouldn’t like it (haven’t tried it yet). It’s because Rangpur Lime doesn’t come in a zero.

My favorite mocktail so far was made for me at a vegan restaurant that no longer exists in Portland, Oregon (no vodka gimlet with blueberries as garnish). It was called “Portobello,” and it was started because my across the walkway neighbor had the same thought process I did. He was a butcher for a very, very long time and got bored. Same, dude. Same. He gravitated toward vegan because it was the latest trend, and at the time none of us knew anything about it; getting away from meat was exciting. He was doing it before anyone else.

The best meal I ever had was comped, as were all our drinks. Dana and I had every mocktail on the menu, plus a couple of cocktails on the house. We also had things like creamy cashew Alfredo, mushroom paté, very cold and crisp salad with oranges and julienned fennel (actually, chefs, I think it was a batonet but I’ve slept since then), and desserts at the end where pastry had taken recipes for things like cheesecakes and tarts and made them out of soft tofu or Daiya cheese, the root of all excellent vegan pizza- believe it. Melts better than mozzarella, but make sure it’s double cheese (crumbled Beyond Italian sausage is insane). They also made puff pastry as good as I’ve ever eaten using only olive oil and not butter. It was revelatory, and started a lifelong affair. I don’t cook vegan entreés because it’s comforting. I cook vegan because I’m bored with everything else.

It has become another autism-level special interest, as evidenced by the fact that it feeds my blog. In essence, it has become one of the three special interests I’ve never given up. Intelligence comes from my great uncle Foster, where every time he’s ever come up in conversation I’ve strained my ears- better when no one thought I was listening. I know more than they think I do because I remember shit. Cooking comes from Dana. Writing comes from me. It was handed down to me by my grandfather (PR) and my dad (pastor) and my mom (music teacher). This is because my mom and dad’s careers weren’t focused on the written word, but their creativity always showed through whatever they were doing.

The only reason I say that my dad’s creativity didn’t come through writing is that public speaking is a different gig, even if you have my social skills. Just because you know to isolate when you don’t have to be in public to save energy doesn’t mean being in front of people every week doesn’t come with challenges whether you’re autistic or not. All people have a social battery, mine just doesn’t last as long as most people I know. This is true of most autistic people. This is because they think they’re healthier than they are when they’re high functioning and have a few good days. Then, they beat themselves up for having a disability. It’s a vicious cycle because as with a mental illness (which I view as separate from having two processing disorders), the undiagnosed don’t realize that the cycle will never end, they will never “get it together,” they might be suddenly employed and unemployed a lot due to meltdowns and burnout but not be able to pinpoint why, etc.

That’s because until you have a diagnosis, you think all office and relationship criticisms are the truth. That autistic means narcissistic, that autistic means rude and unpleasant, that we are worth accommodating for six months at best because it becomes too much, too fast.

I know this because Supergrover was just as flabbergasted by my reactions as every boss I’ve ever had, because they didn’t pick up ADHD or autism, and that’s not because they wouldn’t have accommodated it. They couldn’t see it because I couldn’t tell them I had it. Therefore, I believed I was a lazy, manipulative asshole a hundred percent of the time when in reality my autism makes me two things. Seemingly two-faced- being able to see a problem from multiple angles when agreeing with both parties is a straight up problem. It makes me seem like I have lied instead of evolved. This was particularly true about six or seven years ago.

I now use my blog as a “separating the men from the boys” test because I can’t not. That’s because it clearly shows people two things right off the bat, before they even meet me. The first is that if they’re going to be in my life, they have to make the commitment to appear here. It is non-negotiable because my blog is already popular and I’m not tanking it for anyone unless it’s absolutely necessary. And absolutely necessary is not relative.

Only for Lindsay and Supergrover have I ever changed anything, giving them editorial control after the fact and been sorry I didn’t give it to them before I published. It’s not because I view their careers as more important than mine. It’s that I’m a flexible enough writer to switch to something that doesn’t revolve around my life because I’d have time to let both them and an independent party review my work before it went out. It’s the bargain I made by being Lindsay’s sister and Supergrover’s Gonzo (because our relationship is a “whatever.”). I genuinely feel about Supergrover the same way I felt about Sam. That my intensity was all over the place and even if she didn’t want to be partners, my feelings for her were strong enough to say “pining after her is stupid when she’ll actually give you time with her if you don’t (in Supergrover’s case). In Sam’s, I would have been her bestie even if she’d broken up with me.

The reason I would have and don’t is that I felt like she was the friend who would always make me anticipate her needs if she wouldn’t talk about the biggest one and dumped me in a hot second. We talked about me dating/not dating Zac for three whole weeks and she waited until I was with him for our first date ever and crushed me at his house.

So.

Even if what I did had been considered cheating (and I feel it wasn’t because I communicated my boundaries loudly and so did she), I didn’t. She took the time and effort to punch me in the stomach while also trying to make a good first impression. I wasn’t even used to my environment with either of them and had to cope with both of them being threatening at the same time. I knew that if she was the kind of person who waited and exploded like Supergrover, I was not going to spend another moment worrying about her, because that’s problematic whether we’re friends or in love with each other, and that experience was hard fucking won.

I don’t give my friendship away to just anyone anymore. That’s because I know it will get deep fast because I don’t have the capability to not. I agreed to marry Daniel in a hurry not because I was in love with him, but because we made the agreement to be partners whether we fell in love with each other or not. He wanted me to be a military dependent so I could get my shit together, being extraordinarily kind as we worked out the details of being able to travel all over. It was a secure environment, not a romance.

It also allowed me the room to make him secondary in my mind because he didn’t care one way or the other. One of the reasons I like dating men so much is that they activate a different part of my brain…. but it’s never in the context of not being queer. In fact, it’s the opposite. I will date a bisexual man or make my straight husband culturally queer and that’s non-negotiable. I will not ever project heterosexual privilege and I will do it without having to wear rainbow shit.

I don’t care if other women think I dress like a lesbian and therefore must be unaware that I’m really queer…. taking me aside and telling me that I’ll never be happy in my marriage, etc. As I’ve said before, it’s the most common story. People assume the most common ending.

The answer is obviously not “The War Daniel” is my fianceé and he doesn’t have a lock on whether I’m bi or not.” Cutting my hair this way and wearing men’s (or size 16 big boys, pants are highwater, tho….) clothes is just being loud about the fact that I’m queer no matter who I’m with. It is not a coincidence that I am more comfortable with bisexual men than straight because being queer and showing it is important to them, too. For instance, the queer employee group at Zac’s intelligence agency is organized and Zac is the president. No one in even 3,000 miles in any direction would peg either of us as straight.

Again, straight women should give bi men a second chance if they’ve been afraid in the past. Bisexual doesn’t always equate polyamorous, that stereotype has been reinforced because society made queer behavior unnatural and the only way to get by was having a wife and kids. Therefore, there were both gay and bi men married to women that were happy to varying degrees. The ones who weren’t bi just lied. Bisexual people are often incredibly monogamous and can be married to either gender with intensity. Gay people can’t.

Gay people taught me early on that I couldn’t be both, so I’ve apologized to Ryan for it many times. I didn’t have to break up with him to explore my sexuality, other people gave me the impression that now I had to because I’d thought about women in that way…. that it changes you so you can’t switch back and forth. You are a Jedi or a Sith. Being a Sith means hiding with heterosexual privilege and keeping your sexuality on the downlow because you CAN come out, you just don’t. Being secretive about your sexuality hurts our community more than it helps you, because you’re biting the hand that would feed you if you helped change it.

Heterosexual privilege helps change legislation, but first it helps cultural attitudes to be visible. It means the world to me that Supergrover wears a rainbow Apple Watch band, because it’s not for me and yet it is. Someone once told me that the rainbow flag was a privilege I had. That straight people shouldn’t buy them on their own, that it should be a gift a queer person gives you. Not only am I glad that Supergrover wears “me on her wrist,” she’s the one I’d let wear my rainbows, too. (Incidentally, Lindsay has also worn rainbow shit since forever and works more closely with the queer population than I ever will.)

The one thing I have that would mean a lot to me to give her would fit in with her whole vibe because she’s a beach bum. It’s a white puka shell necklace that has rainbow shells in a few intervals. It was $10, but priceless to me because I got it the day I went to the Supreme Court to wave flags for Obergefell, certainly the most important SCOTUS adventure into queer rights since Lawrence v. Texas. But she doesn’t have to wear it, and I only say that because the colors would last longer if she didn’t. But like I said, the gift nor the love underneath depend on the recipient; whether she takes it to said beach isn’t my jurisdiction. 😉

The reason she’s a yellow string for me is that these are the things that would be important to me to share with her. Meeting up at Capital Pride would be on brand. She and her first/current families are all the kind of people that would show up together and not make it a thing- which I would not have understood in the 90s and not because my family wasn’t like that. They weren’t like that until I told them. When you know better, you do better, and if you never say anything, you’re part of the problem.

My work to do is to learn anger management, because I am programmed to think others assume I am broken, because that’s how they treat me a good bit of the time. It is not an unearned reputation. Right this moment, I do not have the tools to deal with autistic rage, and I did not learn about this until I read “Spare,” by Harry Wales. I don’t care if it was a ghostwriter, I learned so much about myself that I was glued to it. I read the whole thing in seven hours.

This is because Wales is also neurodivergent, and even if he’s not autistic, people with PTSD (anxiety, depression- possibly ADHD because Wales struggled in school and he’s also very bright- emotionally intelligent while the rest of his family is not, etc.) also deal with demand avoidance, burnout, and fits of extreme rage.

Harry has had PTSD and lived his life like a combat vet for 26 years. I can’t remember exactly, but that would have made him between 12 and 13 when his mother died. I know that because his worst trigger is the click and flash of a camera. He didn’t for one moment run from England because of his family and you can take that to the bank and cash it. Harry would have lived quietly ever after in any castle they wanted if they’d only put so much security on Meghan she couldn’t blink without someone noticing.

What his “family” did was stir up the same racist shit in the British press that groups like the KKK stir up here. You are the enemy when you stay silent. Their inaction told him everything he needed to know. If he didn’t take Meghan somewhere else, the British press would kill her, too. Despite outlawing slavery earlier and getting over it faster in some ways (many more POC/queer/disabled people on television in Britain), the first black princess was not going to get away unscathed. The entire UK fucked Meghan Markle by the whole country down to Prince William being obsessed with “Suits” on Netflix and not bothering to keep Meghan safe when it really counted.

The bitch of it is, they’re not even sorry. It’s okay because Harry has money, so fuck him. That’s the tape that plays in his head because that’s not an unearned reputation for the people around him, too. And that’s how he thinks his public think of him. When his family doesn’t listen to him when he says he’s struggling, he has to find other people who will.

I doubt we will ever meet, but I know I could step off a plane, hug him, and go for drinks like I met him in elementary because we speak the same language. My dad was a public figure. My first experience with PTSD was when I was 12 years old and my house burned down. I was diagnosed with bipolar when I was 21, ADHD and generalized anxiety disorder later. I have been afraid I was borderline for years, but I’m not. I’m autistic and ADHD. That’s why even close relationships alternate between obsession and complete disinterest. I do not nor have ever had an attachment disorder.

It’s the opposite. My people are my safe environment, and neurotypical people don’t often tolerate neurodivergent partners because they become their caretakers and resent it. This is because nine times out of ten they will not do the research to understand what they’re taking on beforehand, and there’s only now enough research on what female AuDHD looks like for the layperson to even understand it. People do this when they find out they’re about to raise an autistic child, and there’s a ton of research on what it’s like to parent one.

They do not do the research in the beginning phases of a relationship so that things don’t go wrong later. There are also now a ton of videos explaining to bosses the tips and tricks it takes to work with autistic people so that communication gaffes at work are kept to a minimum…. and it’s not just bosses, it’s HR education as well.

YouTube has been invaluable at giving me self-esteem by explaining my disabilities so I could stop being embarrassed by them; those vloggers gave me tips and tricks for fooling my brain to work around them (except the CP, that’s a whole other thing). That mental health goes up and down, but processing disorders are permanent. My executive function cannot be corrected with medication.

Ritalin is just a tool in dealing with ADHD, and it often doesn’t work for two reasons. The first is that people think that if they can concentrate with coffee, then getting on Adderrall must be better. Then, the jump between caffeine and Adderrall is too much and the hyperactivity/impulse control/demand avoidance/anxiety about it gets worse…… but not enough to stop.

That’s because it induces hyperfocus just enough of the time that you feel it’s worth it. A good example as to why people stay on it despite caffeine working is basically “a cup of coffee or two would do it, but I like the rush of energy drinks.” That’s why neurotypical kids get addicted fast. They only feel hyperfocused when it is induced…….. and because they’re neurotypical, a cup of coffee or two won’t do it. Induction takes the equivalent of purified meth. This is a huge trap for teenage girls, because first it makes them stay up all the time. That means either they can party harder or they can study like maniacs, literally without blinking.

I have never been addicted to Ritalin, Adderrall, or Concerta because it’s not appealing to me. I hate it with a passion. The second reason it’s a bad choice is that you constantly feel the pull of mentally well and physically sick. This is a huge trap for neurotypical girls, and I know this because more than one has asked me to sell my prescriptions to them (I told them to fuck off because they didn’t know what it was like to need it. I learned that day I was capable of cursing at church.). This is because they’ve noticed that not only does it improve their grades, they lose weight quickly.

And then, whether you like purified meth or not, your body will fall apart because of it. If you see documentaries on crystal meth addicts, you know what is happening to us. It’s just that because it’s more purified, it takes longer for us to look like that on the outside. The worse your ADHD gets, the quicker it happens, because either you have to up your dose because of tachyphyllaxis (a drug getting less effective over time, then correcting for it), or having to go to extended release because you can’t handle the crash between medicated and not.

Meth is not like taking Lexapro or the other SSRIs/mood stabilizers/St. John’s wort. ADHD meds can be equated to anxiolytics (Xanax, Klonopin). You don’t take it for six weeks so that it builds over time and your serotonin is stable, that even if you miss a day (you’ll get physical withdrawal), you won’t have to step down the dose and restart.

The exception to my protocol is a mood stabilizer called Lamictal (lamotrigine), and not necessarily that it would cause depression or mania. One of the side effects is a skin disease I absolutely will not show you. Google lamotrigine for all your JAMA-level horror porn. Meth is the same delivery system as a benzo. You take it, you feel the ramp up, and when it’s gone, it’s gone. That’s why extended release benzos like Klonopin and extended release meth like Concerta are so important. If you’re at work, you can’t have a crash in the middle of the day, even for an hour.

Not being able to do that requires you to be able to take a pill about 20-30 minutes before the first one wears off, and that’s not always possible. Both my SSRI and ADHD meds (when I’m on them) have to be taken at the same time every single day, because even being 20 minutes off will induce a tinnitus-like effect in my ears and a monster headache. When that happens, I cannot help but go into autistic rage because I can’t focus on anything but the emergency broadcast system testing in my head. That’s because all my medications affect different brain chemicals.

The worst time this has ever gotten in my way was the unveiling of the Obama portraits at the National Portrait Gallery. I would have been able to see them in person and I missed it because I was away from home. I’d agreed to stay with Lindsay in her hotel that night, heard about the unveiling on the radio, and was just about to HA (haul ass) when I realized that none of my meds were in my bag. I can get by with a Xanax and a Lamictal, because the Xanax will control the serotonin loss for a few hours (at best). Nothing will stop the Lamictal from kicking my ass. It’s what causes all the auditory activity, making my autism and ADHD unmanageable because I cannot handle my environment when my sensory issues aren’t even external so I can fix them.

My last boss was great and dismissed me in the middle of the day to take an extra long lunch and get my medication as long as I came right back. Luckily, there was no traffic that day, so I did it in a little under two hours and just stayed late. That’s what I mean about ADA accommodations, and if we’d used our work from home policy at will, it would have worked flawlessly. My favorite days at Alert Logic and Decision software were work from home. I alternated between going into my office for overnights and forwarding my office phone to my cell because my boss recognized that staying up all night was easier in our own comfortable chairs and at our own desks. Plus, we could lie on our own couches for a nap at lunch. I went to bed. Once. If you take a nap on your couch, it’s much easier to move again because after an hour you’re uncomfortable and yet rested enough for another four hours of work.

However, screen time for me at night is like poker. Often I don’t need a nap because buy-in is at midnight and you don’t notice the time because your adrenaline is hyped up by the nature of the time. “Rounders” is my favorite B-movie because of it. There are few movie characters I love more than Mike McD and Teddy KGB. Shoutout to Joey Knish.

Martin Landau nailed the 99 theses to my wall. It was a revolution inside me and not in front of me when he told the story to Mike about wanting to be a rabbi, but for all the studying he did at the yeshiva, he never found God there. He said that in “Rounders” before I even started to connect that for me, God had left the building…….. but his monologue was the seed to realizing I was built the same way. It is left unclear whether studying at the yeshiva made him an atheist or spiritual yet non-practicing.

I have decided that I am the latter. I reject the Biblical literalist interpretation of grandfather in the sky and have traded it for secular humanism…… but not entirely. This is because believing that there is a thread of energy between all of us is what created religion in the first place. We are not worshiping the divine, we are the divine.

Science gives us the what. Religion gives us the why. It is why both are needed in our society, because there needs to be exploration of ourselves in both directions. To focus on one is to not understand the world, because secular humanism, like any religion, focuses on how to “bring the kindom of heaven to earth.” It’s just Christian language for cleaning up the hell that’s already here when you’re on the social justice side of the equation. The prosperity gospel is ridiculous, as is the idea that Jesus would support anything that didn’t have to do with community organizing for the dispossessed. That’s what got him killed. Even Neil Gaiman knows that.

It was so much easier to work in my level of quiet in any situation, whether it’s writing, studying theology, or IT. That is absolute silence. Additionally, if I forgot my medication or just wanted another soda, I could get up and get it without the bother of office gossip in between. I’m so good at it and make people laugh so often that it causes hyperfocus interruptions and I can’t transition back to work very easily- and not in terms of laziness (or demand avoidance because I’m in the dark literally to again, tamp down ways for my ADHD to cause “the fuckening.” It’s the idea that up until that moment, your day was going so well.). In terms of building my hyperfocus back from the ground up every time I need something, it’s a tornado effect. I can experience my disabilities and then do three days of work in six hours.

This is because my disability requires me to prepare my environment before I can be comfortable in it. However, the tape of what I need to do is still running, so it’s not like I’m ignoring the work. I am preparing to write it down. This shows itself in everything from notes to official documentation, because it’s all written communication. Notes were scant when I was in a cubicle farm and perfect when I was alone….. or as close to perfect as my ADHD would allow.

It bothered me that they recorded all our conversations and dinged me for the writing all the time. It’s that it would have been an accommodation that truly helped me because I did not have the executive function to explain a problem translating technical terms to English so that my customers understood what was happening (I was explaining things to a layperson like opening or forwarding ports on a router) AND write down the thought process of the experience the customer was having.

Then, I’d get overwhelmed, have an ADHD/Autism moment, and not remember the conversation verbatim so I could transcribe it…… when they could have easily given me a few moments at the end of the day to summarize each case before I went home by giving me the recordings as well. But they were somehow sacred and it’s my voice? I’m not even putting the burden on the boss to listen to every case in this instance, because that would take hours if they listened to everyone’s every one. So, listening to every case is up to them. It would be an ADA accommodation whether the onus was on either of us.

This is how I won two Rock Star awards and lasted less than a year, basically getting fired for neurodivergence. The reason I won the Rock Star award once was that a coworker was listening in. The reason I got the award twice is that I got a call at three in the morning, forwarded by the vice president of the company. He didn’t want either of us to hear the click when he hung up, so he listened to the whole thing, unbeknownst to me.

I got a page of text from him, a personal note saying he couldn’t believe how charming and chatty I was at that time of night, and loved that when I learned he was in the UK, I said, “I have to ask a question of you that I ask all my British friends. Who is your Doctor?” He said he didn’t watch much anymore but that it was Tom Baker. The vice president of one of the best companies in the world knows my name.

By the end of the letter, I knew I’d won his heart just as much as he’d won mine. I just didn’t win anyone else’s over time because they loved me………… at first. Then, they thought of all my quirks and limitations as dumbass attacks. I never had a genuine issue, but things did get better working from home.

Conversations were always in chat. Even better that at home I had access to my stereo Bluetooth headphones and all our apps were web-based, so it was cool to have a Mac or a Linux box at home. Back then, I had a 27-inch flatscreen iMac (running either OS because both are *nix); I wish I still had it, because it was certainly fast enough to run a word processor, a browser, and an e-mail client, even in the days of Adobe Flash (Flash will run on The Ten Commandments before it runs on an Apple tablet). It was the best of times, it was the worst of times and the winter of our discontent, riots the language of the unheard both because I wasn’t heard and I didn’t understand the problem.

At Alert Logic, I had more days at home in the middle of the night, and at Decision Software, our working from home was limited to network outages and snow days, only in daylight. It started my day more naturally when I started sleeping with the sun. I got up early because I wanted to write on the train, which I took unless I was meeting Lindsay somewhere and needed to get there fast. This led to me getting to the train between 0700-0730 because it tamped down my sensory issues to write when the train was less full.

I was often the earliest employee because of it, because I’d go in as soon as the door opened and fuck around until it was actually time to work. A in, I’d get there at 8:15, have some Maxwell house and a donut, talk to my office mate (a godsend because we were both quiet coders), take my meds, wander over to the web team or the IT guy and see what they’re doing.

I was mostly talking to the IT guy about linux because even though I was a marketing database development person (and bad at it), all IT people are unix geeks stuck in a Windows world because businesses only know how to lock down one OS, even when we’re capable o creating the same policies you have for Windows ourselves. As an aside, if you know unix, you know Linux and vice versa. They’re not exactly the same, but the learning curve is small.

Therefore, it’s a short leap between system administration on a Mac to a System 76 (the most famous Linux pre-built computer company). It’s like learning Microsoft Office first and then trying LibreOffice because it’s free. Not the same, but intuitive.

When we suggest new operating systems because they’re more secure than Windows (in 99% of cases),you’re not handing a chef’s knife to a child. You’re giving your IT department the latitude to keep more people safe.

Plus, at work we generally have fast enough hardware to run a virtual machine and work in Linux so network administrators don’t have to mess with it. All of our IP information is bridged from our Windows settings. The point is, network administrators and “IT guys” are the creatives in business working under a chef who doesn’t want to let us experiment to make anything better…. and they’re pretty mean about it considering we’re the subject matter experts. It affects network security in terms of intrusions from the outside world, privileges and credentials on files inside the organization, and data recovery loss.

You know, the trivial stuff.

Keeping a network free of intrusions means you have to work like a spy or faster. Virus signatures come out faster than foreign intelligence cables.). The certification to be able to get authority in the field takes a tremendous amount of effort, something that managers rarely take into consideration because it’s not their reality. It’s also how companies get fucked because they don’t listen to the autistic programmers/people in the security operations center (SOC) or network security operations (NOC) because they’re lazy, rude, and in a bad mood all the time (that’s HR speak for autistic). Meanwhile, they’re incredible at their jobs because they’re stem autistic. Coding and system administration is their single interest and they’ll go at it with everything they’ve got.

A creative autistic fits nowhere into this equation because STEM autism leads directly to profit. In short, their behavior is excused because businesses and governments need them so badly. The NSA will even take in hackers who have previously been black hat if they’re good enough. Same with DoD. What’s more important? The hacker’s past or national security?

Black hat hackers can program rootkits that are small programs hidden in the RAM of a server so that they’re impossible to find. This leads to things like CIA and State getting their lists of assets/confidential informants leaked and things like that. I could smack Assange, Snowden, and Manning upside the head no regrets for what they did, because we won’t know what they’ve done to covert ops for 50 years, if not a hundred. It’s humiliating that the call was coming from inside the house. What if any of them are actually Rick Aames and don’t know it? When he turned on us, we lost 10 assets in one summer. But a group does know, and the group is pissed with lots of underlings, whether it’s the president or the Director of National Intelligence, and they all have the right to be pissed, too.

But this is a situation in which someone could say the complete opposite and I’d agree with them, because I don’t think that keeping things from the American people is always correct. I just think that they more than likely made us bite off more than we could chew and obviously didn’t care or didn’t think of that. Audacity is worse, because no one sees the whole picture of intelligence, not even the president of the United States, because we can only give them as much as we have….. but we are the best set of intelligences agencies the world has ever known, so there is room for as much excellence as we can muster while also recognizing our mistakes. However, NSA has the most power in the room and I would argue the most power in the nation because they basically have a lock on HUMINT (human intelligence), especially because they can figure out ways to watch people when they don’t know they’re being watched. People freak out that NSA might be watching and give up their paranoia willingly when a terrorist is caught on camera making bombs that were planned for, say, the twin towers. But what you must remember, Americans who are terrified, is that Russia, China, and every other civilized nation is also watching you. But NSA is also the only one who can go to bat for you if you are located in the United States and get on the radar by mistake. No one can issue an apology except a United States court, provided there is also video of your innocence.

People generally think about what the NSA is doing to them, not what they’re doing for them. I know for certain that Russia and China have the most eyes on me because that’s where I’ve had the most bots since 2003. I have already learned that even when I mean something innocently, people think it’s not. What makes me think that the Chinese or Russian government would give me a break? If I said something that pissed off the right person at the right time, I’d want to know that I was innocent so someone would go to bat for me. In short, if you get international attention, don’t do anything wrong. Getting caught on the radar by accident is saying something that is legal here and illegal there. In Russia and China, it doesn’t take much and I’ve already had a blogger friend who escaped to Hong Kong then came back to the US. With stuff like that, you never want the US to have a reason to let anyone extradite you, especially when you’re queer. You also don’t want to get yourself in the position of being a prisoner exchange if there’s a chance in hell you did anything that would be considered illegal to the FBI.

If you are an American overseas, it’s better to let them extradite you because you won’t go to trial in a country that’s more harsh than ours. For instance, I’d rather be in an Australian jail than the US, but in a US jail over Mexico or Iran. Considering I’m more likely to be caught over the Internet saying things people don’t like, Russia and China are the countries most likely to care…. even when your critic is an American who fell in love with the Cold War and criticizes it in order to make the future better, not to piss people off. It is how that vlogger views China, a bilingual American married to a Chinese woman. He was only trying to improve his community and country- escaping a future in prison for his trouble.

If you’ve made it to the end, I hope it was entertaining to see me ramble like an AuDHD contradiction in terms. But it’s because I can explain so many things that one tangent leads into another- sometimes more smoothly than others. It’s how I get jobs, literally. I got one of them because my resume appeared among the search results at Maryland Workforce Commission. The CEO of the company Googled me and thought I was a hell of a writer, even commenting to everyone that since I’m a hell of a writer, it was only fair that he let me take pot shots at his stuff.

But writing about all these topics doesn’t mean I can do all of them perfectly forever without accommodation because I’ve proved it in every job I’ve ever had. Bosses do not take the ups and downs of autism well, partially because they can’t see it and attribute performance/attitude to other things. It’s partially because companies say they want to accept you for who you are, but don’t actually help you get there because they say they are welcoming without policies to support it.

It reminds me of my first marriage in the business sense of the word. The reason Kathleen and I got married was because we were in Dupont Circle (then called “the froot loop”) and picked up a copy of the local queer rag, The Blade. In it was a statement from the head PR dude that if you got a civil union in Vermont or married in another country, ExxonMobil would have to honor it. The problem was, they couldn’t. We were the first couple that asked for those benefits and the lady at HR I talked to wasn’t even aware that the publicist had made the statement to the newspaper.

Therefore, the policy on queer issues at XOM revolves entirely around me. I deserve all the credit because Kathleen is a hosebeast and I’m just not going to give it to her. She sold my Yoda (I never could have afforded it. I won it in a contest, life-sized so it scared her and she sold it while I was out of the house when it was a collector’s item that would have appreciated- nearly one of a kind.). And I honestly could have forgiven her infidelities if she’d just decided to be Jack Kennedy about it. I mean, tell me, but I don’t care. The problem was the lying. Eleanor wasn’t threatened by Lucy because Franklin wasn’t threatened by Amelia. I’ll get over it. But that’s what I think now. Back then, I would have been threatened af and worried I wasn’t enough and all the things. Now, I write so much that I need more alone time than most girlfriends would want me to have in the first place.

But what I didn’t do is have ADA accommodations there, either.

I cannot be blamed for keeping it tight because I didn’t know. I had to talk about it and couldn’t. My bosses and partners were every bit as responsible for communication gaffes, therefore we both had to be responsible with future interactions. An employer owes an employee ADA accommodations just as much as neurodivergent people have the right to ask for them.

However, I know plenty of people who say to their partners that they’re neurodivergent and what issues they have with thinking, giving them specific information that is very important and all close relationships blow off. For instance, moms are obsessed with baby books. How often do fathers read them? Mental health is just as important as the medical development of a baby and the health of the mother. When you have mental health, sometimes your executive function crumbles and demand avoidance becoming things like not being able to take a shower because the change in sensory environment is too great (I experience this more in winter unless I drag my space heater into the bathroom with me…. a lifesaver when I make it about 80 when I’m in the cold water.). Things like this are why working from home is preferable, too. It ups my productivity when people don’t care if I stay comfortable and work in pajamas and a hoodie.

I am not making the case that autistic people have to limit themselves to pajamas. I’m saying that they need more leniency on the dress code than most people due to sensory issues that impede their performance. For instance, I’m sure it was a huge damn deal when offices started allowing women to wear pants because wearing skirts instead is hell on earth when your sensory issue is bare legs, and let’s stop pretending that’s not an issue for all women considering razor burn and having to shave whether they have road rash or not.

But the trend of making the skirt part of an official women’s uniform went out a long time ago. Now it’s accepting that autistic people need the flexibility to show up in pants without a tailored waist, a soft t-shirt, and a hoodie (which is not cheap to do when you want to look good enough for work and yet tamp down everything that will bother you once you leave the house. Pain before beauty is not an option for anyone, much less people with sensory issues. I am pointing this out because of Steve Jobs and Mark Zuckerberg. They both wear (wore) the same thing every day so it became a decision they only had to made once…….. and owned their own business so that they could do that because no one enforced a dress code on them. I would say it helped them be successful. But what do I know? In 20 years, people won’t even know their names (this is a joke, they’re immortal for evil or for awesome).

Mental illness affects everyone from princes to paupers, but if you know one mentally ill person, you know one mentally ill person. If you know one ADHD, autistic, or AuDHD person, you know one of us. People have preconceived notions about how alcoholics, addicts, and neurodivergent people should or could act, and they impose their standards on everyone else. No, every one is not “a little bit autistic.” I hear that a lot. Everyone has problems, but few are reinforced in processing disorders and depression/anxiety stemming from them. The pressure of internalized hatred of neurodivergent people makes our disabilities worse. The pressure of showing up to a job when you’re seen as problematic often induces meltdown and burnout, essentially being paralyzed with indecision in the moments you don’t already have a social mask for something. And that’s before anyone gives you a demand to which you can’t respond right away. That’s after you’ve conquered the demand avoidance over the things you need to function. Being unable to ask demands of yourself feels the same as being paralyzed over possibly hurting someone else.

But here’s the thing. Lack of accommodation only helps to keep what employers view as “problematic behavior” under wraps. We cannot be trained like a dog into neurotypical responses and wait until you get frustrated enough to fire us over it because we can’t mask at all times, forever. It’s exhausting, like having a job at work and a job that never ends when the world doesn’t adjust to include us. “Less productive” is relative when you’re talking about autism and ADHD, because performance depends on communication and neither party is good at it. Mainstreaming sucks, but neurodivergent people get irritated, too, because not every autistic person’s quirks will line up with mine and vice versa.

But I started this journey by thinking about Red Mist rage, because Harry Wales thought about it first.

If you were him, you would have been beside yourselves, too. When Princess Diana died, Charles told him, patted him on the knee, and left the room. They didn’t expect him to ignore the press once. He felt hung out to dry the first time, too.

Would you have let it happen again?

Being neurodivergent is knowing when to run, because people who love you will want to give you accommodations and the people who don’t might want to, but don’t educate themselves and think they’re the expert because Mary down the street doesn’t have the same symptoms as me, or masks differently so that her symptoms make her seem like a better person than me when we don’t have the same disorder. Perhaps she doesn’t have depression, anxiety, or ADHD. Everything in medicine is one diagnosis…. “it depends.”

I hope that Supergrover eventually reads all of this, because she would have empathy for my plight like none of my other friends would on many, many levels….. and I learned about all of this so recently that she doesn’t know about any of it if she stomped off when she said she did. However, I told her that she needed to keep reading, keep absorbing, so maybe she didn’t because I decided not to feel creepy about it.

I feel weird now, though, because emotions are coming up that I don’t want to dive into, so let’s get back to food and Zac and Oliver, who is a dog.

Said vegan chef needed something better for his computer to promote the restaurant, and his eyes lit up when I told him I’d sell him a tank of an HP printer that wouldn’t die if you took a baseball bat to it and would print 40 black & white pages a minute for forty bucks. Thus the reason why our whole meal was comped and we went back several times just to watch him be creative. It was devastating when they closed.

I keep up with the news to keep up with Zac, because even though he’s not forward deployed with an intelligence unit, I know more about what’s going on with him emotionally if I have some idea about the data he’s collecting. That shit causes real pain. Working for CIA (or DIA, or NSA, etc.) carries a certain cool exterior, but no one ever thinks about these people being the first to learn that terrorists have blown up an elementary school. It doesn’t matter that it’s thousands of miles away. If you learn best by reading, that intelligence will wreck you for a minute because all the info is heightened because of your ability to take it in completely, even sensory memories you’re only imagining and have never happened to you. It’s the same for friends at State and those who have other government jobs where they have to travel to dangerous places. It makes me wonder what might have happened had I made a bigger play for a diplomat I dated for too short a time. Her next posting was in Niger, and she ended up taking someone else because I was so hesitant. It was too fast. I couldn’t change my environment so quickly yet again…. I mean, I can, this was just a couple, three years at most after I moved from Houston to DC. I feel that I dodged a bullet if she was dating me and also found someone to marry in like six weeks. I wasn’t threatened by going to Niger because she was. If I got caught being queer, it would be with her. I was threatened by change and I finally learned to recognize it.

Until I found out I was AuDHD, I didn’t know why I had so much of a propensity to change everything all at once and yet severe sensory issues afterward that were akin to the pain of childbirth. You stop remembering how bad it was after a while and it gives you the crazy idea that a new location is better when it’s not. It’s just destination addiction brought on by poor impulse control. That magnifies when your partner is also ADHD. So, give people a break when they do stuff impulsively. It’s not a defect, it’s a disorder…. and in a lot of ways, the things that we do that seem impulsive to you are absolutely the right answer for us because we process emotional information differently and sometimes more quickly than a neurotypical brain.

We’re not better than you. That’s not the point. The point is that you are beating a dead horse with saying you want diverse candidates and yet your attitudes are the same old shit. There are a lot of words that resonate with HR that make you look like a lazy narcissist who only performs half the time because every time you walk by their office, they are staring out the window. It’s not shutdown and having to psych yourself out of it. It’s avoiding work.

Hell is taking 50 support calls in a day because the policy on time spent with a customer is ridiculously short to make Service License Agreements; everything runs together in terms of writing and talking at the same time, then the next call coming immediately for eight whole hours, four of which are in a row. That fries neurotypical people and not just people fighting through loss of executive function, the meltdown/burnout cycle, or 57 channels that are all blaring and they have to have so much emotional strength to choose between them. That’s why the pace of life is so much better in Europe for neurodivergent/queer people. First of all, the UK and many other countries are more progressive than we are on things like gay marriage and trans medicine. Gay marriage might be old news, but revoking it isn’t. They also have a generous sick policy and wouldn’t argue with me over taking an hour for a therapy session or a med check, even if it was a couple minutes over my allotted 60 minutes.

My health care would be free, so that’s something. It would have been amazing to emigrate to Canada when I was dating Meag, but that was never really a viable option because first of all, we were only apart for a couple months at most before she found someone else, moved in with her, and then broke up with me. Second of all, completely forgivable because we were both 18 and that screams idiot, anyway.

I still think, though, in my heart of hearts that she was the one. But not in a way that makes me want her back. Just that I think we’d have settled into marriage very well once we stopped being idiots because we had a much more natural yin and yang than “my way or the highway” and “suppress everything that’s wrong in order to please her.” And I don’t know for sure, but at least long ago there was a part of Meag that felt the same way, because she told me on a very cold day in an Ottawa Starbucks that she thought we’d made the right choices in life, but regretted that we didn’t get to be partners as adults because she thought we would have been good at it. I choose to believe that she was right, and it fucked me up; I was still in the “she was my first love and I’m over it and all, but no one can say they’re ever really over their first love” headspace. It pulled me in the wrong direction and I cried myself to sleep. In retrospect, it’s the biggest compliment I’ve ever been given, it just took me a while to take it in….. but not years of pining away. I got better after I smuggled Cubans back into the US one trip.

It was one thing to recognize that we had a great past. Quite another to promise each other the future. I think, though, that if we’d put the mountain of work into it that the relationship actually needed in terms of communication, I’d be singing “O Canada” right now. And in fact, I’m glad Meagan dumped me because “I’m Irish. If anything is wrong I’ll just deal with it for the rest of my life.” Meagan had issues that I would not have wanted to take on given the red flags I already saw. It’s not that I saw red flags. I saw an unwillingness to work with me and no idea how to solve that problem. I didn’t have any standards and just lived in a low self-esteem that thought nothing of taking away sleep and replacing it with internal histrionics.

I’m not sure that Meag ever really took in how much she hurt me, because she can apologize all she wants and I accept every one. It’s just that her frame of references were different than mine, therefore she could not understand the problem like I could. I could handle Meag having a beard because she wasn’t out to her parents. I could not handle watching her kiss him or hearing that she did at a party because it started the meltdown/burnout cycle, followed by the depression/anxiety combo meal. I was all for ethical non-monogamy to keep up appearances for her safety, but I didn’t want to be an accessory and I completely was. I enabled absolutely everything that hurt me because I was used to every day emotional abuse and needed it to function. I let her hurt me over and over, forgiving her too fast every time because I didn’t want to be alone…… the drumbeat of a woman’s heart.

I accepted enormous change. My girlfriend couldn’t be my girlfriend in public. I could not mention that she was my girlfriend in conversations to people where it would get back to her friends, thus making an entirely different friend group than her, because most of them did not accept me. I was just the weird girl who acted like a puppy in front of Meagan and I assure you that was not what was happening there. She was on me like white on rice and I loved every minute of it. But I had to deal with my sensory environment being threatened every time a new piece of condoned infidelity came to light. It was more okay when it was a boy because she needed a beard. Sleeping with another woman was just cruel, and not because non-monogamy is bad. Lying and cheating is bad, like coming home and getting into bed with me until I fell asleep right after said date….. when she smelled different and I said nothing. I didn’t find out until she was ready to tell me, because I knew it happened unofficially and didn’t need to pry. She didn’t “protect the path.”

However, I know more intimately than she does why she cheated and let it go. It was too painful to have a connection as large as ours, so she slept with someone else to distance herself from me to have the strength to go. Moving back to Canada was her only option, and I’ve seen that since the beginning- that I should have broken up with her on the last day of school and just didn’t.

I didn’t date anyone for three years after that, and her partner knew exactly why because I was only in town for a few days (or she was and had brought her girlfriend to Houston). Therefore, we flirted like 18-year-olds while never being a serious threat…. except to Katharin. Katharin punched a hole in the wall when I told her that Meagan was spending the night at our apartment, and this was after I told her that her partner and daughter were coming with her and she was staying with me as well. There was enough room for all of us, and Katharin focused on Meagan and me, as if we were hell bent on sneaking out in the middle of the night (which was not actually a bad idea in retrospect given how we’ve come to feel about both women, frankly. We’d just moved past the time in our lives where it was appropriate to want it.).

I also got a taste of what being a parent meant. That it was getting up at 0500 and hauling ass to Waffle House because kid is on a schedule and we’re fucking late. It was then that I knew Meagan and I would have been wonderful parents had the stars aligned, but a passing thought to a falling star, a beautiful memory that could have happened had we been diligent about it.

She needed to open up more. I needed to deal with the disabilities I didn’t know I had. It is also true that pegging us as Glennon and Abby is more accurate than it isn’t, I assure you. We both turned each other out in the same behavior with equal and opposite reactions. My joy in her made me a better writer and fluent in the language of the pitch. I write about the same shit Glennon does and Abby’s voice is indistinguishable from Meag’s in their podcast. It’s not the same pitch, tone, or tambre. It is the same jargon and my mind makes up the rest. She is within me and without me, and sometimes she’s so heavy I just have to lose myself in the music.

Damn, I may never write a paragraph more true that that last one. Shiiiiiiiat. If I ever did get her back, this is it. However, she’s another person I won’t let back into my life without significant work, because she’s proven herself both not to lay her feelings on the table and disappear without a trace. You get one or the other, not both.

I can handle insecurity in dates and times at which we might see each other because that’s the nature of being an adult. I cannot handle an insecure environment, and I cannot count on it with her because of her past behavior. It doesn’t mean that I think she’s less wonderful that she was a few paragraphs ago. She’s just free to do that with someone else. An anxious attachment requires care and feeding because it’s one person’s responsibility to help the other person with anxiety by being clear in communication and not avoidant. It’s the other person’s responsibility to control their anxiety and communicate clearly in return. For instance, an anxious attachment says that if anyone says they’re busy, it’s because they don’t want to spend time with you. An avoidant attachment style and an anxious one is managed by being clear about what is happening. It’s on the anxious person not to spiral out about it and assume that your reasons are actually lies. It’s on the avoidant person not to avoid direct confrontation and hear people out without emotionally detaching and feeling guilty, making up for lack of emotional intimacy with genuinely thoughtful gifts that are supposed to say everything you want to hear and don’t.

Words have power, and I know that. I have known it my whole life. It just wasn’t until I started exploring all my flaws and failures that I could see why they exist. It helps prepare me for a future with neurodivergence, mental health issues, and being physically disabled because I have a space to see it and self-soothe. I am actually managing the best way I know how. I am not a constant burden or ignoring all my responsibilities, and I can see it because I can tell what’s a symptom and what’s not. I will never have truly long relationships without that give and take, and in no way did I get things for which I couldn’t ask. In many ways, I was ignored if I did.

The most embarrassing autistic meltdowns I’ve ever had were at home in the parsonage and in the first hour after my emotional abuser finished her last concert at my church. I knew she was leaving for real and I was crying crocodile tears because I was 14. We could stay close with letters and phone calls, but it was never the same, even when we were capable of visiting in real life again. It hadn’t been that long, maybe four and a half years at most. But in my opinion, she lost her 20s the moment she married her partner and that’s why she never looked at me the same. I went from “I’m older and often not wiser” to “you’re annoying” real, real fast. I’d aged five years, she’d aged 15. The most sinister thing she ever did to me that I struggled to forgive the longest was marrying a woman that if she, my dad, and me were all in the same room you couldn’t find the differences with a map and a flashlight. She, in a very real sense, passed me over for a facsimile. I’m sure she thought that imitation was the sincerest form of flattery, but even though it was wrong I was fucking furious. She wanted to be a power couple, but didn’t want to wait for the inconvenience of letting me go to college and grad school when there was a minister already ordained right there.

I am not saying that I would have been good at being her partner if she had waited, or that it wouldn’t have been pedophilia in the beginning. What I’m saying is that we fit each other like a glove whether I was too young for her or not, leading me to absolutely ignore the downside of being abused and let her have all of me. The emotional vampire who found a very willing familiar because I was so young. I know enough to know she didn’t want that, but she did want a partner that was good for her image and I fit the bill because I knew how to be on her arm and speak in public, being as personable as people twice my age through nature and nurture. It’s the reason why neither she nor Supergrover’s age difference bother me. I’ve been conversing with people from kids younger than me to retirement age since I learned to talk. When I was a toddler, one of my best friends was an old coot who worked at an ExxonMobil service center. He always smelled of tobacco, oil, and gas. His name was Bill Killian, the proper addition to “Lanagan.” At that age, I knew how to read the newspaper AND laugh at dumb cartoons.

I still do that. Regular Show is life because I carry a picture of the cast in my head a lot. My favorite character is Mordecai, but he’s the nerdy side of me. It’s Muscle Man and Hi-Five Ghost that bring out my sense of adventure and laughter.

You know who else has a sense of adventure and laughter? MY MOM!

And on that note, I have prepared my environment to accept more demands. I think I will start by making some Alfredo. Demand avoidance touches everything, because I’ve been avoiding asking myself to cook since last night. That right there is a huge part of why some autistic people cannot live alone. There are programs to get me a home health nurse to stop by, and I need to see if I am eligible for it. Or maybe it’s a social worker. In either case, it makes sense to me while single because I don’t have a partner to share these kinds of things with. It also makes sense while in a relationship because it’s not putting the burden of caregiving on someone that you don’t pay. It’s why when I’m in a relationship, I would pay my housekeeper before I would pay my cell phone bill to keep resentment off my girl, or beautiful boy, as I’ve called him from the beginning. But Zac doesn’t want a romantic partner living with him, so it’s not an issue for us, anyway. But what I know is that if I did live with him, I would rather have someone to take care of the house rather than facing demand avoidance, loss of function, meltdown, and burnout cycles because then the fight seems between you and not around you. Resentment is toxic like nothing else.

The reason this entry is so long is that I’m trying to explain to myself why I do not have autism imposter syndrome. The poster child for an autistic person is not me because it is not my only diagnosis….. and again, if you don’t fit the picture of “autism” in other people’s heads, they will say things like “you don’t look autistic” or “I go through the same thing and I’ve never been depressed.” That “you don’t look autistic” is a kick in the groin. It means your disabilities will be minimized to an enormous degree because you’re not stimming all over the place. Even high functioning autistic and ADHD adults stim to calm their minds, but only a true autistic meltdown that involves ENORMOUS outbursts is valid. My meltdowns don’t look like the kid on “The Good Doctor” and I’m not as rigid as Sheldon Cooper. Two reasons for that. The first is that autism presents differently among all people. The second is that there is a marked difference in how ADHD and autism present in women.

Part of it is that women are so much better at social masking than men, because they’ve been taught a strict protocol for behavior that men just haven’t because they’re men. They own the rules. Part of it is that if low function is the picture of autism, hyperactivity is the picture of ADHD. So, either women are covering it or they’re ignored because they’re not jumping around like seven year old meth heads on a bender. Female ADHD is almost always internal because of both gaps in visibility by professionals, gay or straight pegged as only a “weird Barbie.”

When I can write beautiful things, I am beautiful to other people. When I exhibit signs of my processing disorders or mental heath issues, I am not. If I find my place in the world by measuring other people’s opinions of me, I will not be able to stay in one place very long. I have run out of everyone else’s frustration long enough.

This is my story. If you’re starting with this entry, it’s not the beginning. But we are just getting started. If you listen closely, your inner voice might talk to mine as you read. You’ll find the message you needed to hear, even if it’s not the one you wanted. That’s because I’m AuDHD, not a reject.

The pity is that we all have to work through it every moment of every day when there are so many simple accommodations.

This is how I do it.

Right Now- 0500

What’s your favorite time of day?

Most of my audience is overseas, so they actually wake me up most days now. That’s because my watch starts getting notifications before my alarm goes off, generally regarding the entry from the day before. I sometimes start writing right away, sometimes I go downstairs to grab a cup of coffee first. But this audience is my first thought of the day because the Pavolvian urge to grab my tablet and keyboard when someone likes an entry is ingrained. I’ve been on WordPress a lot longer than I’ve done Facebook, but it’s that kind of vibe.

This morning, I wrote out the title of the entry, then promptly decided I needed something to drink and by the time I got back around to picking this back up, hours had gone by. It’s ADHD in a nutshell. Every new promise in the morning must be followed, even ahead of the five promises you’ve already said you’d explore. I have a lot of new beginnings because I have trouble finding middles and ends. ADHD is particularly talented at making you feel like a dumbass. and being a writer is a way to cope. Having a record of what’s happening is a way to keep track of progress… or not. Writing is such a wonderful tool to give yourself therapy when you can’t afford it or can’t get a doctor right away. Even when you do get a doctor, they still can’t spend more than an hour a week with you. Getting better takes so much more effort than that.

People wait to do therapy until they’re in a couple, and I had a thought about that. “If you don’t have time to fix yourself, why do you think you have time to fix someone else?” I’d rather be healthy before I get in a relationship because it keeps conflict to a minimum. I don’t have a problem saying what I mean and meaning what I say. I can give what I require.

I don’t have time for people who don’t have time to fix themselves, because it makes them want to fix me. If there are problems in our relationship, it’s not always going to be 100% my fault. I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who is so defensive that they think it is because they cannot acknowledge their own humanity.

It’s good now that I know what I’m looking for, because maybe I can avoid that trap in the future. I seem to enjoy people who don’t emote, probably because I don’t want to deal with it….. while also being frustrated that they can’t deal with my emotions, either.

Looking for healthy patterns in which we both have each other’s backs is very important, as well as taking all the lessons I’ve learned over the last 10 years and not making the same mistakes. I have a clean slate in this regard. I am no longer holding onto the past as if I can make it better for the future. I am realizing that those are going to be two very different things and the trick is not to be threatened.

I am threatened by everything, to a certain extent. I already know I don’t fit in most places, and I am sometimes fearless, sometimes a wallflower. I make room for all of those moods, but I don’t expect everyone else to do so…… which is mostly why I write my reflections here. Then, they’re just an open secret because if the people involved want to see how their characters are playing out, they’re welcome. But they’re not required, and I will write them out just as easily as I wrote them in.

The writing reflects life, not the other way around. When I talk about knowing where I’m going on this web site, I’m talking about knowing what emotional changes I have to make within myself because so many times I’ve reread things I’ve written and thought, “that probably sounded better in my head.”

I’m still reeling that my beautiful girl thought I wrote her as a flat character, when I can see every emotion I’ve ever had about her in these pages, more in the words you don’t read.

The urge to write about her has faded except for batting cleanup.

I never could get through to her that her good parts and her bad parts come together to make her the purest person I’ve ever met. That I didn’t hate her for what she’d done, I made my life bigger to accommodate her. That I was in it for the long haul if she was, because I had prepared.

She thought I was saying that I wished our relationship never happened, and I cry at that thought even now. In trying to make it better, I made it worse.

That doesn’t mean my thought process was wrong, it means that she didn’t get the intended message. I’m not sure how it got turned into the complete opposite, but that’s not my call. I don’t have to love it, I just have to live it.

What does feel good is knowing two things. The first is that I cannot un-know or un-say anything. It might lead her to look at my writing in a different way when temperatures aren’t running so high. I do love her in a way I cannot even understand, it runs so deep. But I will have that whether I have her or not, so I have not lost anything in the transaction.

I told her that I poured my love into the character because I could not pour it into her. She has said too many times that she does not accept it. She doesn’t really accept that I have a different reality than her, so I cannot expect her to understand her way around the whole problem. I cannot even do that.

But what I can do is make sure that she knows I was never coming from a place of destruction. That we had to be in the shit for a little while to create something new that we both would enjoy. Like, why should she be the only one that gets to make fun of me and Michael? I am sure that all three of us could make each other laugh with witty retorts.

I just don’t hold out hope for that dream anymore. I told her that if she started acting like she actually forgave me, then she’d be allowed back into my circle. If not, I will know I just chose the pattern I love the most. That it was always about trying to find someone to please. I know that is true on my end, and she has a choice to make as to whether she tells me how she feels or not. So far, the answer is “not,” but I do not think this is a permanent state. Mostly because life is long and it isn’t over. I know that if I’ve been able to keep up these wild and crazy feelings for 10 years, it has never been a game to me. I do not believe it has always been a game for her. I believe as she does that no matter what, we have a past, present, and future. We just have different ways of getting there and cannot seem to jump into the chasm where objective truth is found.

But there’s another part of our relationship that has nothing to do with her at all. Over the last 10 years, she has not only become my real friend, but the one that puts me in the mood to write. When I say she’s my muse, it’s that she’s the one that when she says it’s a good line, I can take it to the bank and cash it. She’s gotten me published professionally by being my editor for the last five years. She’s told me that she’ll edit my book if I wanted, and I know it was a bad career move to walk away from that, but there was so much more to it than that.

It’s because editing my book is her love language, and that part of our relationship is as strong as epoxy. That glue holds us tight. Where we fail is speaking in my love language, because communication is a two-way street. She thinks that I’m the only arbiter of what friendship is and isn’t. I don’t think of it as that at all. I think that I lay out my thoughts and feelings and she thinks she can’t argue with me, get me to see things differently, change me as easily with her words as I change her with mine. I just didn’t think it was fair that we always spoke the way it meant the most to her, and not the most to me.

I think she thought that I needed her to do something so far out of her comfort level that she just didn’t have time and didn’t want to try. The opposite was true. Could you just change how you talk to me when we do interact? I am tired of you thinking that I am goading and provoking you when I am asking for your input? You think I’m asking for too much when you don’t understand the question.

Because she lives in my ink and talks inside my head, echoing in my chest, she’s part of my lifeblood now. I can feel her words coursing through me when I receive them, and it doesn’t matter whether they’re sweet or angry. They are all small pieces of artwork in a tapestry…. or one of those landscape photos made up of individual faces.

She has a beautiful face. It’s the one I look to for love, and have for years. I cannot do that if she doesn’t want it, so my work now is to take everything I’ve written about her and look at what I do want from it and what I want to leave.

What I know is that you can’t change anyone else with your own words, and you need to be prepared for relationships not fulfilling you and not worrying so much about getting out of them. Yes, everything feels new, but in a good way. A life where I am free of past mistakes in their entirety, and not because I wanted it that way.

As Kristina Mahr has said, “I took the tags off this love before I knew I was sure I wanted it. No, that’s not right. I took the tags off this love before I was sure you knew you wanted it.” I know for sure that even if my beautiful girl was interested in women, we would make horrible partners to each other. We cannot even make our love languages work with deep female friendship. I do think we could make friendship work, but because we have distance from each other. I can’t tell a partner to go home, but I can tell her. 😉

That’s because she would understand implicitly that we are both interested in socializing until the battery is dead. Please leave by nine. A group of people is a “no thanks.” We joke that I am the president of Overthinkers Anonymous, and she is the VP because president is a public-facing office. I still can’t get over that one, it’s so funny.

My last witty retort to this was “what a day. Need to find a meeting except there’s only one chapter and it’s really only us. We’re not friendly, Bob.” I said her real name, but “we’re not friendly, Bob” is a quote from my favorite Robin Williams movie, “RV.” You just have to see it to believe it.

Anyway, if you are also a member I will be holding a drive in late September. We’ll pass the hat for dues and coffee. No Folgers, and I get to make it before every meeting. “Leslie, you have one job.”

The point in all of this is that I learned a lot, and God I love her more than anyone or anything on earth, mostly because I’ve had 10 years to get used to the idea. She knows she’s it for me, in some sense, because even when she’s not in my life, she still lives in my ink.

I will look forward to the day when I can take all these life lessons and pour them into someone who wants them…. including her, but she has to show up. I’ve learned to celebrate the people who do. It’s why I think of Bryn and Zac as my partners in crime, both of them, because they serve different roles and I’m happy this way. Maybe it will change, maybe it won’t, but I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.

I feel that it’s important to take guilt off of everyone when they don’t show up, and just do my own thing. I cannot make other people’s calls for them, especially on the telephone.

I’m not friendly, Bob.

Too Much to Contain

What do you think gets better with age?

Before I really dig deep, I am angry af at Facebook because I’m in FB jail until about 9:00 PM, and even then I can’t use “groups” for a month. This is because a woman was asking for consolation over a breakup and I said “cheer up, pretty girl. If you’re going through hell, keep going. Also, men are trash. :P” The only difference is here I did not say that was a Winston Churchill group, because this is WordPress and we’re smarter than everyone else.

So, for the first time in history, I can blame Winston Churchill for Facebook jail and not me. However, if a man was really petty and reported the comment, that also blows. Either way, again. Facebook is not North Korea, but it might has well be. As I wrote in “The Art of War,” there’s no department of people who determine what you meant. If you say any violent words at all, a text scanner will decide you were trying to incite violence. Ok. I get it. Not so bad. What’s bad is that if you are caught once, you are marked, and things spiral out of control very, very quickly.

I wasn’t able to use Facebook from Thanksgiving to New Years, either, and it sucked being cut off from my friends and family with absolutely no oversight board at all. The reason I know this is that you can appeal a decision and the decision comes back within one minute, then you are invited to appeal from another board where it takes 30 days to even get your case looked at, so the ban will run out before you can even get someone to look.

Since I’ve been off the radar so long, it really surprised me that now I’m on it because I truly think someone reported the comment. This is because there were already hearts and laughter from other people in the group, including the author of the post. The only thing that doesn’t make sense is a man being offended by something so innocuous. It doesn’t matter.

I’m already on the radar.

One of the reasons I got so mad at “your blog makes you sound like a dick” is that this person insinuated that if I wasn’t such an asshole, then Facebook wouldn’t keep restricting me. It was humiliating, because her voice had the tone of someone speaking to a small child with developmental delays. She was using it as a political point when I hadn’t said anything to cause those kinds of blocks except use English a computer didn’t understand. But it served her purpose, so she was absolutely going to use it. Fuck my feelings. I hope she’s happy about how that turned out for her, because I’ll never speak to her again if I can help it.

That’s because I don’t like judgmental dickheads, either…… especially ones who aren’t writers. People who aren’t writers have a MILLION ideas on what constitutes real writing and what doesn’t. If I’d listened to her, this would be a resume and some recipes. I’m sure you would have all been thrilled. Meanwhile, yesterday was the biggest day for likes in the history of my blog and I’ve had 50 million readers validate that I am indeed hot shit next to a policy wonk. If you’re ever my friend on the ground, the fastest and shortest way to get dumped as my friend is to come up in my yard and tell me how to write, then when I say I don’t like it, convince your friends that you’re right and I’m wrong, then invite me to sit and listen to thoughts about my work inspired by someone else’s thoughts about my work because hearsay is exactly what I need to be successful. Why didn’t I think of that before?

How did I not know that I didn’t need to read Shakespeare. Going to a class where people discuss the motivations of the writer off book is enough. I am not Shakespeare, nor will I ever be. But the point stands. If you’re going to have people criticize my work and make me listen to it, it would help if they had actually read what they were talking about.

After that, I realized I’d never change her and she had no business being friends with a blogger. After having so many friends not believe in my writing, I don’t have time. Either you understand where I’m going, or you don’t. It’s that simple. That friend reamed me out because a woman text message broke up with me and I was unhappy about it, so I wrote about it like I’ve been doing every day for 20 years….. but her feelings matter more than 20 years of posting, right? This blog is mine, because I don’t want to write for the manager at Burger King… as if that was my target demographic. My target demographic is people neither one of us would ever think we’d meet. Other creatives.

My blog isn’t fantastic because I’m such a great writer. It’s fantastic because I’m the one that bothered to remember to write things down. On this blog, the woman who hurt me does not get to then share airtime. There is no Fairness Doctrine here.

This is also not Facebook. If you make a comment, I’ll approve it. Go nuts in the comments and tell me what a dick I am and it only drives up my engagement, so even if your opinion hurts, I’ll still let everyone see it. The site isn’t fair and balanced because there’s only me, and I don’t live in anyone else’s head. I can’t. It makes me try to please everyone, coming up with content based on what you want to read.

Not caring is the only thing that allows me to get words out at all. I’ve catered to other people my whole life, and I’m done. Have been for quite a while.

Someone said they thought it was weird that I’d given Supergrover the passcode to my phone and the light went off in their heads when I said, “when you’re bipolar, someone has to know.” There are solid reasons for everything I do. Everything. When you invalidate those reasons and write me off as stupid or crazy, I won’t stay mad, but kiss me goodbye.

I didn’t tell my beautiful girl why, either, so if she’s wondering why she has a passcode for a phone she’s never seen, worry no more. I knew I couldn’t change my story, and she’s the only one I trust in that particular regard. The reason I’m telling you and not her is that i I told her it was “just in cases,” she would have internalized it and told me that I was just trying to piss her off and she didn’t have time for this shit.

No one does, cielo. No one does.

The fact that no one has time for this shit is why bipolar patients kill ourselves in droves.

My friends don’t have time to deal with bipolar bullshit, so I’m passing the savings on to you. Why? No one is requiring you to be here, and no one is telling you to stay. You choose to listen, you choose whether to respond. I don’t even link to things most of the time so that the past can stay passed. It’s fine if others don’t want to deal with me. My ire comes in when you’re stomping all over the place I go when I don’t want to deal with me.

I especially don’t like being “handled” when I’ve been your friend despite the fact that I made the executive decision not to punch your wife in the face on many occasions. I thought she was such an asshole to you. She thought I was a threat and treated me as such, a stand-in for all the people she can’t yell at. She looked at me like The Other Woman for years and years, all because she was mad at you and taking it out on me. How did you react? By catering to her and making me feel like The Other Woman as well.

The two of you turned what was clean, healthy friendship into something sordid by having to have a conversation about it every time you took me out….. and don’t think I couldn’t hear you talking about me because at the time, your house was too small to talk shit in the kitchen while I’m in the living room. So, it was actually very, very easy to tell both of you to go to hell because by the time my “friend” jumped on my ass about writing, I was exhausted. I couldn’t prove to her partner that I didn’t want romance, and you were a pussywhipped little bitch about it.

I was devastated by my own relationship troubles and my mother’s death. I didn’t have time to think about either one of you and now I’m glad I don’t. That’s because if either of you had bothered to look for it, you would have seen that I didn’t have time to love someone that way. I was toast. I need to rest, heal, relax, gather strength.

I chose to listen for years despite wanting to scream “LEAVE HER!” If she was willing to treat both of us like shit, I thought she should be permanently uninvited to your life, because you’re sunny and wonderful and connected. She’s not. My beautiful girl told me to leave you behind years before I actually did, because the triangle was toxic. The more I insisted that we were just friends, the more the partner took out her anger on me.

She’d only have had to talk to me once to know that no one had a chance with me because my significant fulfilling relationship was very, very real and all in my head. It rode the line because pictures and voice memos are not enough. I never even got to shake her hand, and yet there were days when my heart beat only for her and we fought like cats and dogs because of it.

She couldn’t tell me how much she was not in the mood for my foolishness, and I didn’t feel all that great about hers, either. She came back to me, claimed to be my friend, and then did everything she possibly could to disprove that fact, because she was wonderful to me in some ways, but mostly dismissive. I had been discarded, and that was of my own doing. But if you come back and continue to treat me like shit, that’s your fault. That is not on me. That treatment of me is not based on what I did, but because you told me you forgave me and didn’t. Therefore, I was stepping all over boundaries I didn’t even know were there. When she told me she didn’t play games because she didn’t have time, I told her that maybe that was true with her other friends, but not with me. That she had plenty of games, she just didn’t tell anyone the rules and was perfectly comfortable leaving me in the dark every moment of every day.

I didn’t leave her behind because she was a bad person or that her gifts were unwelcome or that I didn’t love her to absolute pieces. I left her behind because people make plans for their priorities and excuses for everything else. It was again a case of going hard for someone I couldn’t go to…. Because since I’d hurt her, anything I did that was genuine felt like a lie. It wasn’t, but that’s not how it felt to her and I take nothing away from it. She couldn’t see me, and lied to herself that she could.

Her heuristics told me that since I’d once been unkind, I would always be that and everything else was a mask. Forgiveness was relative. I was not reacting to the words “I forgive you,” because she said them. I reacted to being treated badly after she said she forgave me, because I’ve never been taught that definition of friendship. I know how to negotiate boundaries. I know how to emote to try and be understood. I am emotionally brave, but I was willing to be as humble to the point of groveling as long as forgiveness was real.

If you read my words looking for anger, you’ll find them. In fact, you might find whole angry entries. But one entry does not a blog make. I am a spectrum. Being me is actually kind of difficult, because my personality and writing creates its own orbit. I am very, very powerful that way, and I have to be aware of it because I’ve seen what it does to people through the woman that groomed me and the other public figures in my life with the same personality. There’s never just one narcissist. If you find one, you’ll be attracted to it forever and then getting better with age becomes Whack a Mole.

I’m winning.

I just realized that the reason my blog entries sound like letters is that I am trying to differentiate between someone and their partner because they’re both the same sex. Ah, well. Content over grammar, I suppose. I am a grammar nazi, but not to the tune of caring about stream of consciousness writing.

Getting better with age is seeing these kinds of patterns and walking away. My truth was not theirs. I was walking around DC with my heart butterflied on my sleeve.