On Saturday, I had two clients, and if you were paying attention at all this weekend, then you read about my disastrous supper. I didn’t exactly mention in my post, but I put that punishment sauce on the chicken, brocolli and stuff, and ate most of it, because I was starving from work and needed the protein, despite it tasting like punishment.
Also, during the day on Saturday, Jason was sending me text messages on his drive out here to San Francisco from Jackson Hole, Wyoming, to be with his new man, who isn’t me. This whole thing is confusing to me. I want him to be happy (not that I think moving in with a middle-aged drunk queen who’s clearly preying upon him is going to make him happy), but It does make it more challenging to find my happy place about our break-up. I keep asking myself, why does this have to be so drawn out? I’ve never had a guy leave me for another guy before. Maybe that’s part of it. I keep wondering what I could possibly do to compete and win him back. Isn’t that lame?
Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I (and just about everyone who knows anything about the situation) “know” that this relationship isn’t going to last. Or maybe it will. I should seek serenity, as there’s nothing I can do at this very moment in time. If and when the opportunity presents itself, I expect I’ll know the answer and trust myself to make the best decision for me.
OK, that out of the way, on to Sunday.
Sunday, I did something I rarely do: I worked on a client. He had tried to make an appointment on Saturday, but I was already booked up, and when he explained just how stressed out and sore he was (a longtime client), I agreed to see him on Sunday morning at 11:00.
After the session, I had brunch at Eppler’s Bakery: a ham and smoked turkey sandwich on rye bread, coconut cream pie, and coffee. From there, I headed to the Castro to hear 
djrottenrobbie spinning at Daddy’s 440. I popped in for the first twenty minutes, then decided that it was too nice a day to be in a bar, so I wandered around, ended up outside The Edge for a bit, right as my friend, Pete, was exiting the place. So we hugged and I could see that he was upset, so after taking a quick peek in the bar to see if anyone interesting was in there, he and I walked to Zapata for him to eat something while I sipped an horchata and we shared our stories.
Jason should be in town now, I was telling him, as he had stayed Saturday night in Reno, and the passes were clear. And he was telling me about the guy who sub-letted his apartment to him and the court battle that is going on about that. We decided to head to his place and smoke some pot and continue to talk.
Two hours later, his friend, Jason, showed up, and the three of us hung out for a while, listening to music and talking. Jason had to do laundry, and I was hungry again, since it was seven hours since I had had that lunch. So Jason and I bid Pete farewell, and he walked up with me to Thaihouse Express on Castro and 19th. The queue was too long there, though, and his place was just half a block down toward 18th, so I walked him home and we exchanged phone numbers.
Next up, I had to find food, and I was set on Thai, so I went to Thai Chef on 18th, and ordered the papaya salad with shrimp, and pork in green curry with sticky rice and an iced coffee. It was all really good, and the service was attentive. I could swear that the waiter wanted to crawl under the table from how attentive he was.
From there, I wanted to head back to 440 to hear the remainder of Rotten Robbie’s set, but by the time I got there, he had just wrapped up and left, so I had a nice, if brief, chat with TonyMorg(an), a Jack and Coke, and a lovely walk home.
The Sunday reminded me that I don’t have to live like a monk all the time, and that I actually do have friends who care about me, and who I care about, too. I think sometimes I get too wrapped up in my head that I forget to live.
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