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It’s almost 2 am and I am alone in my apartment.  I can’t sleep.  I did a full day’s worth of activities, including a web steering meeting, a communications team meeting, a screening of the batman movie (amazing! disturbing!) with Serge and some general cleaning and organizing of the house space.  There’s no reason why I shouldn’t be able to sleep, and yet, there it is, sitting in the small of my back as I lay here on my stomach, typing, the weight that is cool and clammy and oppressive, daring me to move, daring me to make a sound, daring my thoughts to stray to a place where the colors and sounds are much more simple and  much more connected to memories.

You know, without him here, the house just feels wrong.  Even with an echo of a dinner party, even with company in my bed, there is still something missing- the smell of his wet soap in the shower or the dim glow of his computer screen from his bedroom.  It makes me wonder when it happened that a solitary world became a joint world.  I like him better than practically any other person I’ve ever lived with unless you count school roomates which personally, I would not.  He’s a very good companion. Safe, reliable, steadfast.

Maybe that’s why I can’t sleep- but it might also be the feeling of overwhelming dread that I cannot seem to shake- I cannot seem to find, in my head, the way to work everything out so that I can make it through the rest of this run of BARE, pack the house, move, live in a compromised space until our new place is renovated,  start a new semester, teach a class, plan a season of fudge…theres even more things- a few weddings, Lavan getting spayed, and officially changing all of my documents to MA ones, to  name some… it isn’t that any one of these items is overwhelming, or even all of them as a unit- it is that I am missing something that I cannot quite name.

It’s a feeling.  Like the glimmer of joy I got when Anise facebook messaged me from Spain, a jolt of electricity that comes when you know that someone you delight in is thinking of you- that notion that for the briefest of moments you are more than just one person, but a combination of feelings and emotions and slimier stuff like blood and marrow from two different people.  I don’t know how it is that he can still make me feel that way, and why Serge, for all his loveliness, doesn’t make me feel that way- which makes me think like it is pointless to go on dates with him, even though he’s a very nice man.  I don’t know what I want except to feel that glimmer of joy more often than I do now- I guess I never put the words together before, but I’m looking for my east coast, appropriate, all weather Anise.  I don’t know where he is, but if I could find him, I’d feel a lot better about the months ahead.

Do you keep dating a nice person you don’t ultimately think will be the right person?  I mean, generally I think the answer is no, but in some cases isn’t it healthy to just -be- dating, even if they don’t fit the pristine model?  I mean how many Anise’s are there out there?  At least my model boy’s merits are almost purely intellectual (though the hair was nice- and the tallness) and spiritual.  Sigh.  This isn’t helping me to get to sleep;  Maybe a shower will help- or a glass of green tea.

pointless rambling of an insomniac.

Ever Virgin.