Ian and I took a drive to Mendocino County yesterday, where we hadn’t been in a long, long time. In what seems like an alternate universe we used to live in Ukiah, pop. 16,000, and we quickly learned that we were not the rural kind, but then we doubted our conclusions and moved to Placerville, pop. 10,000, where we were essentially told that we’re not the rural kind. (O, to live at the start of a global pandemic in a mountain town full of Libertarians. We sure know how to find memorable experiences we never signed up for!) The drive along the Mendocino Coast is so breathtakingly beautiful I felt like I was in a movie about California the whole time. We wrapped up our lovely day at the original Amy’s Drive-through in Rohnert Park, which somehow felt like its own California dream even though we were enjoying their courtyard from a strip mall parking lot.
I worked through a whole lot of psychological triggers yesterday, deep lifelong ones. No need to go into detail about them but I feel like telling someone other than my therapist or the person who for whatever reasons has committed to a lifetime of working through them with me (Ian. What’s his deal).
It turns out love is about enthusiastically supporting someone when they’re not being the person they want to be, which is weird. I thought it was about being the person they want you to be at all times that you’re in their company and then holeing off in a little shell when you know you can’t be that person. I was definitely thinking of something else that is not love. I’m well rid of whatever that is.
Remember Stupid Whiteboy at the Gym? Ian had the disturbing revelation over coffee yesterday morning, or was guided to it by my previously-unuttered observations, that his lack of empathy was more significant than I had seen in the moment. I didn’t tell you this part, but initially Ian had texted me, “You should tell him how that makes you feel and how much it ruins your day.” Immediately I said, “There’s no way he would listen.” I had to be home safe with my coffee and partner before I let unfold the understanding that wait: Dude sees a physically disabled woman on the stairs, wearing almost nothing, and clearly uses “I saw that the elevator was broken” as an excuse to touch me. When I tell him he’s not “helping” as is his supposed intent, he gets defensive and angry, cutting me off. “He’s a predator,” Ian said, and I remembered how hard I shook after. I am not inclined to shake as a result of confrontation. This motherfucker was a danger, and I didn’t see it because, as vaguely referred to in the past, I’ve got formative reason to fear female predators. It’s not that I’ve never taken down a creepy male fuck, had to acquire that skill alongside breasts, god knows, but men, as a rule, don’t scare me. He did.
We stopped at Black Oak Coffee in Healdsburg, CA where they were nearly-closed and planning to throw out their unsold baked goods, so they asked me if I wanted a jalapeño cheddar scone. I just finished the last half and it was soft fresh sweet spicy salty glory and wonder. Praise to getting to places at the last minute and feeling like you’re right on time.
Discussion about this post
No posts