I finally have a bona fide home here in Seattle. I have enough pieces of furniture to invite someone to sit down in my apartment without having to show them the bed. I’ve yoga-ed my tiny little apartment into the most comfortable nest possible for me and/or my cat.  I don’t require much personal space if it stays personal.  This staging area is the little extra I need to feel secure in the face of company.  I’m still living out of suitcases in the bedroom but what no one sees I can justifiably ignore for another 6 months. 

The best part is now I can stay home to relax and not get bored after an hour.  I have multiple electronic devices designed for entertainment and numerous ways to utilize them. All my batteries are loaded and I get creative multitasking myself with distractions.  Playing a video game on my computer while watching Project Runway on my phone.  Integrating my yoga practice with Rick & Morty yields an entirely different kind of enlightenment.  I listen to WEVL while blogging or put on Netflix while cleaning.  I even have enough space for an impromptu dance party where I don’t bump into anything.  Liberation at its finest.

I actually WANT to spend time at home for the first time in years. I feel safe. I feel grounded. I feel like my roots are finished working their way into Seattle soil. I’m about to sprout. Just in time.  If I don’t start turning around my mid-life impetuous I might end up destitute or worse …  remarried.  My focus at this point is just keeping an income.  Increasing my income will be Step 2.  Step three, profit.  Keeping my expectations low is key.  I haven’t been paid the commission I supposedly earned from the Space Needle. I’m not surprised. I hope they have enough integrity to come through but my jading is complete. Soulless corporate scum.

I finally encountered my crush after a couple weeks of trying to get my head on straight.  My defenses are still no good.  I usually deal with this type of disparity in affection by simply avoiding the person that doesn’t like me back.  In this case, the offending party frequents all of my favorite places in the neighborhood.  He also has no idea that I’m in pain when I hang out with him.  It’s a superficial pain centered mainly around my loins but the struggle is real.  In other circumstances I could aim for a flirty friendship.  Given my current situation and the likelihood that he will have a new girlfriend before Christmas, I’m playing with the idea of proposing a purely sexual relationship.

In my experience, sexual enthusiasm wears off after 3 months at most.  If I can get him to provide emotionless orgasmic experiences for at least 6 weeks it should be enough for me to lose interest in the chemistry.  The yearning desire to know him and all that he is should subside with time and repetition.  That’s how it works whenever I actually TRY to have a relationship.  The same truths should probably hold true for a parody of a relationship.  I guess there’s a chance I’ll fall even deeper into my irrational affection and become a crazy stalker.  It’s a risk worth taking for me and what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.  Yet.