Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Look. I ain't Barack Obama. I got no audacity of hope or a hope chest or the Hope Diamond (though I did see the Hope Diamond at the Smithsonian...shhhhhinnnnyyyyy!). But tonight, I do have a slim sliver slight shaving shimmer of hope (yay alliterations!). David's ex...the Roommate of Darkness...declared openly that he is moving out on July 31st and that is his final answer (he IS the weakest link. goodbye).
As someone thoroughly trained in the scientific method (observation. empirical, and measurable), I am a fool to actually allow any itsy bitsy shadow of optimistic outlook to stain my cold, calculating hard science heart.
I am a big old Renaissance softy that reads esoteric literature, speaks and reads several languages, believes in ghosts, fairies, and goblins, and jumps at any opportunity to believe that human beings are inherently good and ultimately redeemable. I spend a lot of time being disappointed. But golly gee I wear a smile while I pick up the pieces of my shattered expectations.
And poor David. He has been waiting almost two years to move on to the next part of his life. And, I have been waiting right along with him for most of that time. I am scared as hell to really embark on a fully open relationship, which I told my love had to wait until Lady GaDrama was no longer sleeping on the couch, and so the spectre of that life challenge is lickin' its lips and rearin' its Voldemort lookin' head at me. But, you know, I have seen enough perky asses from my window this evening to be willing to walk hand in hand with David down the path that ends with my penis firmly ensconsed in several of the aforementioned observed's booginas. How's that for a scientific method for ya.
Our beloved president, St. Barack Hussein "I Got a Fatty Dick" Obama commanded us all to hope, and let me not be the shmuck that fails to serve and obey the commandments of our Lord and Chief Executive. But, past precedent (sorry Mr. President) has taught me that crazy people that thrive on misery should not be trusted until one sees their bony behind walk out the door for the last time. So, I shall say I am cautiously hopefulmistic.
And you can bet a bitch is funna be chanting some nam-myoho-renge-kyo and prayin' to Jesus, Allah, Shakyamuni, Yaweh, and Scooby Fucking Doo to help this actually come to pass.