Snow & Sleep

New York City is seeing record snowfall. We’re all stuck. I should be more excited; snow is fun! But, I’m not. I’m excited about leaving to Austin in two days! Even then, it’s all too much. It’s too much snow; it’s too much sadness. The many obligations I daily encounter are scaring me to sleep. All I want to do is escape.

Absconding, fleeing, making a break. Why have all of these been common themes of mine lately? I’ve felt variations of restlessness for weeks now. Daniel and I are okay. It’s safe to say, however, that we’ve left paradise. We are no longer in that annoyingly euphoric first stage. We have worn out our welcome in NAN’R (the National Association of Nascent Relationships). We’re both putting on weight and wearing each other’s clothes all the while.

So, what’s the next stage? Does it get worse from here? Could it be that I’ve forgotten the way after paradise? It sure has been a while. We’re both very comfortable. We spend every night together. But, even the excitement levels are down; he pisses me off even in my dreams. Overall, I’d say we’re in a pretty solid relationship. Or are we? Is this just the eye of the tempest of love?

I believe that in about September of 2003, Keith and I returned from paradise. It took us a while to get oriented. To be honest, thinking of how things were with Keith makes me nervous. It's a haunting that may never leave. After four months, Daniel and I have become a little boring. We’ve done a lot that most couples don’t; we’ve gone quickly, like Keith and I. He seems content with sitting around schmoozing with other couples. “Not I,” says the cow. Paired people make me crazy. Where are my single gals?

I know; I know. It sounds odd. I have wanted for so long to have a man. Now, I envy my unattached, party-hopping, sometimes sexually-experimenting girlfriends. Daniel and I have arrived on the other shore of dating. We’re arranging dates and hearing about them, but we’s not going on ‘em. A fair trade-off? I used to think so. Now, I’m not so sure. Will it change, or is this it?

I like to see this “other shore of dating” as the proverbial bed of close comfort. (Maybe I’m just tired.) It’s great to be in that bed, in the presence of all things familiar: sheets, books, ice cream, and boyfriends. It can be a relief. There’s no ironing. Hell, on the other shore, I don’t even have to comb my hair. You see, I’m completely cool with this “other-shorely” bed, provided that Daniel doesn’t take up too much of my side. He’s so bad about that.