Saturday, December 16, 2017

Geoff-Steve, October 14, 2004 to October 13, 2017

I'm not sure what to say here. Nearly thirteen years - 4,748 days - is a long time to be in a relationship with someone and then to have it come to an end. (Four thousand, seven hundred and forty-eight days).

Things started hot and heavy. It was a Thursday, and I agreed to come down to his place (and got lost along the way; this was before smartphones and google maps and turn-by-turn directions), even though you're always supposed to meet in public first, in case he's an axe murderer. We had tried to meet twice before, taking turns standing the other up, but this time it worked (although he was late because he was at a friend's place doing laundry). He cooked dinner and we watched a movie - Deep Blue Sea, if I remember correctly. After that, we took a bath together (he's always been good at seduction). I remember considering that it was a possibility I would awaken sans kidneys, but I decided it was a risk I was willing to take. Fortunately for a young Geoff who had only recently lost his virginity, everything turned out fine, and I believe I spent the night.

I spent a lot of time at his place that winter. When I had my seizure at 21, he came to the hospital to see me, and, as I told him at the time, it felt right to have him there with my family. For a time after that, I wasn't allowed to drive, so I would bus down on weekends, or get rides from my mom, spending almost the entire summer there instead of my apartment in Boulder.

At the time, he was studying CIS at DeVry. I convinced him to switch to CU Boulder. I don't know whether he considers that a mistake or not, but he was never able to get into the Engineering department (notoriously difficult to transfer to), and eventually returned to DeVry to finish his degree. In the meantime, we moved to my apartment in Boulder while we were both attending school there. I convinced him to join our fraternity, and he even served as chapter president for a year or two.

About a year after I graduated, it became apparent that I would be unable to make it doing freelance work, and we moved into his condo, which was a great move because it significantly cut our expenses. While he was working for the USGS, we got a cat, Rory, who has always been a joy in my life (when he wasn't being a brat, of course). We got addicted to WoW, and recovered. He started a monthly board game group that has been going for far longer than I expected it to, now. We had a roommate, Tom. We dated Pat, and shared our grief when that ended.

We created those tiny monsters, pentapedes, and sent them on adventures. We got another cat, Ada, and the cats eventually learned to tolerate one another.

I bought us a house, and we lived there together. He built me a garden. But we slowly were drifting apart. He adopted relationship anarchy as his model, which I disagreed with. He brought a continuing stream of new men through our lives; I was not prepared for this. I told him that I wasn't comfortable with what he was doing, with the person he had become. I cried, and grieved, and hoped that we could return to what we had before. But it was not to be. Finally, I tried to end it, and he made a promise he later claimed not even to remember. And so, I brought that chapter of our lives to a close, one day shy of our thirteenth anniversary.

He's moved out, now, and taken Rory with him. It is now me and my cat. And even though I'm still defining who I am now, I'm okay. I'm making it.

I know you won't ever read this, Steve, but, outside of my family, you are probably the most significant relationship of my life. I wish it could have been different.

4,748 days will be a hard record to beat. Perhaps it will never be broken. 38% of my life at the time.

Goodbye.
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