About six months ago, after Botboy decided he was going to move in with me when his deployment was over, I began to make preparations. I cleaned my house from top to bottom. I made room for all of his toys and clothes in my closet. I made numerous trips to Goodwill, especially as his arrival got closer and I began to realize, with the arrival of each and every package, how imminent (and real) it all was. By the time he arrived, his soap was in my bathroom. His toys were in my closet. The closet was half empty with empty hangers in the back anticipating the integration of his clothing. My room had been redecorated and rearranged to better accommodate a second person. I’d bought new lamps, new pillows for the other side of the bed. I was ready.
And then things fell apart. All of this is well documented here, I’m not going to go through the trouble of reliving it again. But for weeks I looked at my apartment in disgust. Yes, it looked better than it ever had. Yes, it was prepared to take a second person if it needed to. But that second person was gone. And all the time, all the money I spent getting things ready seemed like a waste. I didn’t have the heart to even touch the place to clean it for awhile, preferring to sleep elsewhere, to eat out.
So I spent my days at work, my evenings in classes for the psychic and witchcraft stuff I’m doing, my weekends exploring Florida, coming home only to sleep and watch TV occasionally. The bed I kept clean, the couch I kept clean, the laundry I’d do. But everything, including Bot’s things, stayed largely where it was when he walked out – his keys on the keyholder, his papers, his notes, everything right where I’d left it that day. And then I was told to put it away… box it up… put it in the closet out of sight, where the negative energy wouldn’t be able to get out and I wouldn’t have to look at it every day. It was imperative, my guides said, to do this if I were ever going to be able to properly move forward.
I did that. And I started to move on. As I said in a prior post, Metalhead’s living situation is a little questionable right now. And by questionable, I mean he sort of doesn’t have one. Up until recently, he’s been spending his nights and weekends in bars, drinking as he tried to find someplace to stay for the night. Luckily for him, he’s had plenty of military buddies to crash with. And this had been going on since his two-week drill a month ago. With the recent developments, he’s been staying at my place most nights.
Here, he has a bed. He doesn’t have to surf couches. He doesn’t have to sleep in his car. He’s using the Botboy’s soap that was left behind here. The pillows I’d bought for Botboy are being put to good use. And the company is nice for a change. It’s been awesome to have someone to walk with when I take a walk at night, it’s been nice to have someone to cook for now and then. And while my kitchen table looks like something out of a frat house right now since, thanks to him, I’ve revived my love for partying, we’re having a good time together.
Best of all, my life hasn’t had to change much. Granted, I still stay up late some nights waiting so I can let him in the door, but even that’s not such a big deal. I’m writing more and I’m getting things done. He’s motivated me to get my life back together – back to what it was before it crashed down around my ears. Are we still having our affair? Yes. I’m sticking with my original plan to not overthink it. And I’m happy.
The reasons for that happiness are twofold. First of all, because I get to hang out, very frequently, with one of my closer friends. Second, though, and probably even more profound: I’m doing something for someone that needs it. I’m giving my friend a place to stay while he gets his shit back together. A place to shower. A place to do his laundry (though I did some of it for him tonight – I enjoy laundry). Something other than beer for dinner every night. Stability, in the limited ways that I myself am able to provide it.
While all of those preparations I made before weren’t made for Metalhead, he’s getting the benefit of them. “Everything happens for a reason,” he says. And I agree with him. I didn’t understand why, after doing all that work, it seemed to be for naught. But now I wonder if all of that work was never for Botboy in the first place. Maybe it was for Metalhead, who needs it more than Botboy would have. It’s not permanent. I know that. He knows that. But for now, he knows that there is always somewhere to lay his head. And he knows that, next weekend, when he gets back from drill, there is a place to take a shower and get clean.
And for my part? He’s giving back more than he knows. I’m not lonely anymore. This house isn’t empty anymore and I don’t feel like I’ve wasted my money. Or my time. Because it’s going to the benefit of someone else. I can still go to my classes, but there’s someone to talk about it all with later. “Life turns on a dime” as Stephen King writes. He’s not lying. It does. This doesn’t fix everything, but he’s given me my confidence back. He’s making me feel wanted again. I’m having a good time and I’m finally able to take myself back for what I was, the parts I didn’t want to give up, before January.
And you know, I’ve realized something else. I’m exactly where I am and I’m doing exactly what I’m doing, because that was what I was supposed to do all along. If things had worked out with Bot, I wouldn’t be able to be here the way that I am for Metalhead. I am a catch. Metalhead reaffirms that frequently. Whatever happened with Bot was not my fault, it’s not on me. And I’m learning, slowly, not to ask questions. To just take things as they come, appreciate the days for what they are. I’ve always done that to some extent. But I’m realizing the value of it now. Because I don’t know what tomorrow will bring – perhaps something good, perhaps something less than good, but all of it for a purpose. And I’m making it count.
And for the first time in months, I’m really excited now to see what happens next.