Feb 02, 2012
The move was successful and I am officially installed in a humongous house, with two other people. They are young ‘uns, not long out of college, but I believe we’ll get along, as long as I have a bedroom (and even an attic, woohoo!) to disappear to if need be. And oh my goodness I thought I was a geek: these are people who actually discuss KEPLER at the DINNER TABLE and make JOKES about AUGUSTINE.1
After living by myself for a year, having people around is — meh? I’m not sure yet. It’s like the first time I tasted cilantro: it took a minute before I could figure out what it tasted like, much less whether I liked it.
Part of the strangeness is that, when I was by myself, I gradually developed a schedule with two main ends in mind: to use my time well, and to keep from getting too lonely. Most of my days went something like this: Mass, work, exercise, eat, write, sleep. Not a bad schedule, and I got all the socialization I wanted on weekends and the odd weeknight out, but my time mostly came in well-defined blocks, not well-suited to interruption. Is that a defense mechanism, or is it just regular old self-discipline like grownups are supposed to do?
And then there’s the whole SSA thing, although it’s not as big a deal as you would think. For one thing these dudes are not my type. For another, I tend to be attracted to men I want to be, and these guys are nice enough, but who wants to be a recent college graduate? I’m like my mother — when people say “I wish I was 17 again,” her reaction is to (at least internally) recoil in horror. Again, the nice part about being lost and confused for most of the first part of your life is that the latter part feels like vacation.
It might be tricky explaining what the deuce I am doing by myself on the computer all the time. (It’s not what you think! I’m doing the opposite of looking at porn!) I don’t want to seem even more antisocial than I actually am. When one of them asked, I told him something vague about a writing project, but I’m hoping he won’t be insistent about seeing it.
It’s not even that I’d mind them knowing — I don’t think I’m rationalizing when I say that I don’t want them to be uncomfortable, which I believe they would be. Don’t know if either of them have ever (consciously) known a real live homo, and I’m not about to be all I’m-here-I’m-queer just to teach them tolerance. And if I had been going to do a full disclosure, the fairest thing would have been to do it before bringing in my uhaul full of junk.
Well. It is getting late, and this old man is going to bed. Peace out.