One Week After

Well, it didn't feel how I expected it to. I guess I anticipated too much. The last week was wreathed in the vague numbness of depression. We finished up our bucket list of things we wanted to do together-- visit the Flower Conservatory, eat at a favorite restaurant, visit a certain soju bar in Japantown, try a classic diner on Market, have a last quiet night in. Except for the part where we fit an entire full-size mattress into the back of Jack's Camry by folding it in half and shoving it in unison, the move Saturday was uneventful. The goodbye Sunday morning was poignant and tear-filled, in spite of my persistent sense of unreality. I spent the rest of Sunday watching TV, trying not to think about anything. The weekend gave way to a strange trip of a week.

I've done something extremely social every day since saying goodbye. I played ultimate frisbee Sunday night and chatted afterwards until late. I visited my coworker Matt in Oakland to watch Breaking Bad and had a great time talking with him and his people. On Tuesday, I had a proper "roommate dinner" with my new roommate Carolyn and we talked for much of the evening. On Wednesday, Cory Logan picked me up in his motorcycle to hang out. I ended up making a new friend, spending the night and being late/hungover for the next morning's staff meeting at work. We played another game of ultimate on Thursday night. Friday, my whole workplace bussed off to go-cart as a team building exercise. I'm still sore from the go-carting, which was incredibly fun and instigated me to talk with many different people at work.

I've spent a decent part of each day in a plain rotten mood, angry at the world for any reason I can find. I've also had some very intense experiences listening to music. Yet, there was never a moment when I was as crushingly sad as I remember from my last breakup. I've felt bizarrely unfazed. I even feel a little guilty for it. A friend of mine was enough of an asshole to suggest maybe I didn't love Sarah as much. I don't think so. I do think this may be an easier breakup; because it's not my first, because our relationship lacked the self-conscious co-dependency of Jill and I's, and because I'm more mature.

So the week has pretty much been an even split between intense music listening experiences, hating everything and positively ecstatic social experiences. Like I said, it has been a strange week. Today is the first day I've really been alone, which is probably good.

I still take the N line to work every day and every time I pass the apartment I crane my neck to look for Sarah, or even Mary smoking or the crazy dancing chinese hat man-- anything to prove it wasn't all just a dream. I keep seeing girls who bear resemblance to Sarah. I had this thought that maybe Sarah had just split into shards of people and dissolved into the tapestry of San Francisco. I keep rating girls' attractiveness and keep being disgusted by how many are ugly. I look at couples with envy. I haven't had any really terrible dreams. This week has taken so long to pass. It's a sort of purgatory. I don't know if I want this all to be over with or if there's anything to be over with or if I like it this way. Maybe this is life, now. It will be for awhile, anyways.

A few people texted me in the middle of the week, "How are you holding up?" I figured they could wait until this blog post. My mom gets the award for calling me the day we'd broken up and taking the opportunity to suggest I become a patent attorney or at least think about my financial future. After being confused by my hostility, she promised to never bring up finances again. I tried to explain to her, "No, Mom, by all means talk to me about my career future occasionally, but please think about your timing. You're kicking me when I'm down." The thing is, Mom specifically broached the subject because she thought it was an ideal time since I'm now unattached. You're a gem, Mom.

I have Bri visiting to look forward to. And I've decided I'm going to make absinthe. Not with European ingredients or according to a recipe, but with my own invented recipe using native Californian coastal sagebrush (a close relative of wormwood), other native or naturalized herbs, and green cardamom and Thai basil, which I plan to pick up tomorrow in Little Saigon. I'll tell you how it turns out.

It's hard to aggressively make friends when you have someone amazing to come home to, so I am approaching my new singledom as an opportunity to make friends here in San Francisco and strengthen existing friendships. Judging by my first week, I am off to a good start.

One Week Before

In one week I will be moving. I've really enjoyed living here in Church/Duboce Triangle/Lower Haight; baby, TV, crazy people and all. Unfortunately, it is time to move.

I am moving because the lease is up and, more pertinently, because I am breaking up with Sarah. After loving the hell out of her for over a year and a half and some time living with her, we are parting mutually, amiably, plannedly and on the conclusion of a lease. I am moving into a room in a place I found on Craigslist with a roommate I just met and my closest friend in the city is moving away. Those of you who've been reading for a couple years may be wondering if this is deja vu. Unfortunately, it is not.

Brandon asked if it was awkward living with someone you know you're breaking up with. I said to him that once you're living with someone, a mutual, planned breakup is about the most graceful way to go out. Of course, the direct answer to his question is yes, though "weird" is a more accurate descriptor. The last few weeks have been emotionally all-over-the-map and I don't expect that to abate any time soon.

That said, I'm glad I moved in with Sarah last year. It made it a lot easier to leave Davis and move to a major city, something I really needed to do. I've had a great time sharing a room with her, exploring the city together and having someone to support and be supported by.

For many reasons, I really wanted to marry her. She's intelligent, beautiful, self-assured, fascinating, shares my values, has excellent taste, takes turns wearing the pants and makes me feel beautiful, both physically and mentally. She will bear beautiful, intelligent children and she will raise them well. I'm already envious of the guy who will have the privilege of fathering those children. Obviously, I've offered my services if she ends up marrying a girl.

I'm not going to get into why all those wonderful things weren't enough for either of us. Suffice it to say that we did our best.

I will be moving in a week to a room in *Upper* Haight, just a few blocks from the famous intersection of Haight and Ashbury. I will have a whole room to myself in a decidedly uncrowded two bedroom apartment. The apartment has plenty of natural light and a view of trees. On the other side, the building opens up onto the panhandle of Golden Gate Park. It is remarkably quiet inside and so far I really like my roommate-to-be. For the first time since I moved to San Francisco, I don't think I'll feel like I'm living as a temporary guest of the primary leaseholder. My commute will be a little longer and I will pay a little more in rent, but Upper Haight is a beautiful and fascinating part of the city.

So wish me well. Send me your love. Call me. There's a good chance I'll be calling you. Bri is coming up to visit me in a couple of weeks. I've been through this before, so I think I'll be okay. I'm putting my tray table up and my seat back in the full upright position.