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Elliot

January 2001

Where We Go From Here...

It feels so weird being here in 2000 thinking of 2001. If you read the drivel I write here on a regular basis, you may recall that January often is a time of tremendous change in my life. I don't know if I could even guess what January of 2001 will do to me.

My friend Michael and I started talking again. Right around Thanksgiving actually. It was hard. We said a lot of nothingness, a lot of meaningless talk when we first sat down for a drink. Reminiscing, we called it. But there was an underlying tone of held back words that made the whole night uneasy.

It wasn't until a few nights later that we actually talked about what had come between us. The next day at work, two of my friends who also know Michael were shocked to hear that I had started talking to him again. They asked two major questions of me, and I replied 'No' to both.

1) Did he apologize?

2) Do you forgive him?

He hadn't apologized, and I had yet to decide if I was willing to forgive him. I'm still unsure. But something had to be done. I couldn't go on feeling the way I did, cringing at the sound of his name, being taken aback when I heard his voice, or shying away if we ran into each other in public. It felt weird making these huge changes in my life and him not being there.

We've both changed some, since last we had really spoken. I know I'm now at a totally different place then I was last June. He says he's changed a lot, I dunno though... I see some change, but I also see some of that same self-absorbed boy that made me hurt so much.

It's funny how words can hurt. How passive actions can cause such pain. I'm reserving judgment until I see for sure this "new" Michael. I'm slowly working on rebuilding burned bridges, but this time I intend to be sure in foot before I tread them. I refuse to let him hurt me again. I insist on learning from our past. I demand things be different between us if this friendship is to continue.

I was watching some movie or TV show or something and the girl turns to the guy and says "But this definitely isn't all water under the bridge. In fact, there isn't even a bridge." There isn't even a bridge.

Most bridges are built from both sides, joining in the middle. In my particular case, the bridge would be built by answering the above questions. A bridge built on apologies and forgiveness. But, there isn't even a bridge.

There are other bridges that need rebuilding. On some level or another. If I had a goal or life statement for this new year, it'd be this: learn the art of bridge-building (or re-building, perhaps). I hate new year resolution type statements, yet there I go making one. Dammit!

And then there's Chris.

Who? You ask.

Chris.

Damn.

He's so hot and so awesome to me.

He's cute and polite and great in bed.

He compliments me, and talks to me about everything in life.

And he's married.

Dammit!

With kids (four actually, they're all super-cute, I know, I've seen pictures...).

He's an actual bisexual. (the audience gasps!)

I like being with him, physically and mentally.

My friends think I'm crazy.

I'm not.

I have no intention of "stealing him away" from his family; nor does he have any intention of destroying his family. He's just attracted to his wife and to me (though I think I give better head).

We'll see where it all goes.

Who knows, he could wake up and never call me again.

I'd move on.

I'd hate it. But I'd move on.

As cheesy as this is, I just wanted to say hey to the Martian in West Boca and to Dan and Larry, the odd couple of Boca.

Laters campers and camp counselors,

Elliot
kalelliot@hotmail.com

PS: I leave you with a quote. Guess who?

"We in this country, in this generation, are by destiny, rather than choice, the watchmen on the walls of world freedom."


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