9/16/96 - Little Voice

9/16/96 - 1810 Chapala

How to begin? All the affection I've wanted to pour on all the men this journal, Gary can take it, and more. And wants to offer it all back. I can't believe this is happening two weeks before I'm supposed to move. My plans were so set, so tidy, and he comes along and blows them out of the water.

Another cliche comes true: love is not convenient, not tidy. I'm not sure "If It's Love," but it's already pretty damn close, and it's only one day short of a WEEK! That part is frighteningly like Ben and me.

I had to have a little space tonight. We spent Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday nights together, last night and tonight we spent with Max's video of "Tales of the City." I was watching it, thinking I'm about to move to that unique place, I'm finally going to be a San Franciscan. And there was a little voice off to the side, saying, "but look at the great guy you've got resting his head on your lap."

That little voice sounded a lot like the l.v. which used to remind me, when I thought I couldn't bear him any longer, what a great guy Ben was. I felt a wave of fatigue and decided I wasn't going to spend the night chez lui tonight.

What am I playing at?

[I have little to add, except I've come to believe that that little voice is the devil of codependency sitting on my shoulder.]

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