State of crises.
As in plural.
So I didn't tell him. I stayed home from work on Monday so that we could converse a little bit. I decided that I am not going to go out drinking with Jess anymore. Not that I blame her for it, but what happened is just an extension of a larger sense of her generally being way out of control & me jumping on the bandwagon when I'm with her because a part of me from my youthier youth did every crazy thing I could get my life around. That part of me gets stirred up around Jess & alcohol, drinking and chain smoking and whooping it up til far past dawn with a bunch of people I don't know and don't care to know. That whole make-out session was just that, a wild crazy thing. I don't want to be in a relationship with Jess, not even an open one. I really don't have any desire to make out with her, except when I'm drunk, apparently.
Jess is still a cool person, and we had just been talking about doing something creative with our time instead of the same old patterns. Maybe we could start a book/study club together with anyone else who wants to join.
As far as telling Ponge...I am relieved to see that other people agree I shouldn't tell him. My mother drilled honesty into my brain at such a high level that I at times can be really tactless in my desire to be honest. Or I feel guilt in my desire to be tactful.
Our relationship has barely gotten off of the ground. An old friend's parents told me, the first year is the hardest. I would consider this our first real year, the time we spent squatting at my mom's house not really counting. I mean, Ponge just got a real job, a real means of supporting himself. With my night job & night life we barely ever see each other. He doesn't want to stay out as late as I do and I don't want to go in as early as he does.
This is problematic & it seems to me that the only solution is me coming in since I know damn well he isn't going to stay out. But I also have this part in me that wonders how the hell that's fair? From my perspective, when he comes home he is going to bed. I am not, we are on different schedules. So why should I have to sit around at home watching tv or fucking around on my comp while he sleeps if I could be out with friends?
I'm not doing a fucking thing that is constructive right now. I feel totally unable to do anything constructive until I get a normal job. I don't know why I have that block, I just do. So it's not like I really need to be responsible, it's not like I use my brain all that often these days. So...I have nothing but my own will power to stop me from partying my ass off. And my will power says FUCK IT most of the time.
So here's some shit. I basically put my entire life plans on hold or completely dropped them to be with Ponge and to make sure he gets his plans going, to get him adjusted and on his own two feet, capable of supporting hisself and his Senegalese family (dad, son, etc.). I had a job offer when I came back to the states that was my exact perfect dream job. Full time organizing around fair trade issues, no canvassing work. But it was in Mpls. And I thought (and I believe I was right) that Ponge would do a much better job/have a much easier time adjusting to the USA in the supportive environment that is Madison. I have relatives and long time friends there, he has relatives there.
There is so much other shit I can't even explain, ways I've completely done a 180 in the process of committing to a life, or at least a good number of years (I still don't really believe in relationships lasting a whole lifetime. That such a thing can healthily occur seems really rare to me), with Ponge. The summer before Ponge actually got to the States, I was really fucking miserable a lot of the time, thinking about what I had done. I felt like I'd ruined my life & there was no turning back. I was scared I'd made the wrong decision in turning away from the polyamorous queer relationship and lifestyle I'd just barely explored but had been counting on, scared of how he would react to the States, scared of how he would react to the fact that me in Senegal is not the same person as me in the US. I warned him of it (how I was different here), but words only mean so much.
But when he actually arrived, I remembered all the little things about him that I loved. His integrity, his goofiness, his passions, his dedication to his father & family, his soft skin, his thoughtfulness, the list goes on. I guess I really miss him. I miss the life I want us to have. Cooking together, sleeping together, cleaning together, shopping together, shit just seeing each other.
But on my nights off there is always something going on with my friends. And though I might stay home for an hour or so after Ponge gets off of work, I always end up going out. I'm addicted to it, I must get out of the house, socialize, and yes, drink. I don't know what the deal is. I can't explain it other than to try to say that maybe my life dissatisfaction and total boredom gives me the option of drinking it up for a quick thrill, and given that option, I rarely say no.
I feel like something is going to have to give, something is coming to crises. I just have no idea what. ...
More later when I've slept.