the property of closure

There comes a time where you have to stop whatever it is you’re doing to think. 


You breathe in, and as you slowly, deliberately exhale, admit “my cup runneth over.”


Good.


Now, how do you figure out what to do with that knowledge?








I seem to have some awkward perpetual bond with my very first love. I’ve been able to dispel most of the energy from other lovers, if I’ve felt it necessary. Not this one.


It’s awkward in the sense that we’ve been broken up for a couple of years now, yet frequently talk to one another with a timid warmth indicative of a connection that has been worked on at length by dedicated parties. (Our conversation is also occasionally seasoned by the hurt we’ve placed upon each other over this time; let’s not forget.)


Awkward in the sense that we’d had an off-again, on-again unparalleled romance over the course of the near decade that we’ve known each other. 


Awkward in the sense that the closest we’ve ever been to each other is when we decided to travel by plane or other mode of transportation. We do seem to have a knack, however, for tucking away and carrying memories in our pockets, which fly out and screech “hey! look at me!” right at moments when we’ve finally started to believe we’ve moved on.

April 2009, Griffith Park, Los Angeles, California

I think we’ve both made good-to-honest strides to distance ourselves from each other, because that’s the healthy thing to do.* I’m in a long-term relationship with Anchor, someone I find myself even more smitten with today than when our friendship first began to take on much stronger, meaningful connotations. First Love is actively dating in his area.



It’s hard to find a balance. Because this person still means so much to me, I don’t wish to push him away. My life would be darker without him, no two ways about it. Still, I can’t imagine how hard this has been for Anchor to process, mostly silently. I think about the crap he’s had to take from me, my insecurities and my past, and I find it amazing he’s around.

June 2010, private home, Portland, Oregon



The feeling of a stalemate on this subject is difficult to ignore. It leaves me frustrated, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. I have a habit of wanting to hammer at something until a solution produces itself, but not everything works out in that uniform a way. I may have to act somewhere in between being practical and being honest in the near future, and the part of me that chooses to act with my heart will absolutely hate the shit out of it. 


I can only hope that all of us come out of this as unscathed as possible, which seems silly seeing as pain has been entering from every avenue since this rift has formed.


I don’t have all the answers. I was so sure I did as a kid, but boy was I wrong. Perhaps no one really does.





*While I have been in open relationships for years now, there are some lines that can’t and shouldn’t be crossed. Sometimes you have to choose, and live with whatever consequences may come with that choice. I have, and I am, and overall… I think I’m OK.

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sticks & stones

It goes without saying that in social circles, reputation can be very important.
It’s pleasing to be able to offer references to others (if deemed necessary) when coming into their world to reassure them that you’re good people, whether it’s for public or private events, business or casual. It’s even better when you don’t have to do it yourself, because mutual acquaintances and/or friends are so excited at the prospect of getting so much positive energy into a single space.
What do you do if you’ve had one not so rosy experience with a person, though? Two? Three? 
Would references work the converse way, where you’d warn friends about said person/people? Would it depend on the severity of the experience(s)?

Luckily, I haven’t had very many bad experiences to speak of. 
If I have issues with someone directly, it may take me a moment to vocalize, but I usually attempt to sort them out with the person involved. While I don’t see the harm in kvetching occasionally, I tend not to mention more benign things to friends that aren’t involved unless asked, or unless they build up over time.
However, if I feel that folks I care about could be in danger as a result of interaction with Person X, I’d be inclined to tap them lightly on the shoulder, share my story, and let them draw their own conclusion.
That last bit is vital: let them draw their own conclusion.
It is absolutely not my intention to come across as a pushover of my own agenda, or to make it seem as though my friends can’t take my words with a grain of salt. 
It’s essential, as someone who knows me, that you make use of your own common sense.
My experiences may not be your own. That’s the big hope, actually — your experiences should not mirror my own, especially if mine were negative.

It’s a delicate process, talking about people in general. 
It’s increasingly fragile ground if your primary outlet in which to do so is the internet, which leads to loads of conjecture.
Comments spread like wildfire, so be careful about the matches you choose to ignite, when and where you throw them. The damage is oftentimes irreversible.