The Final Days

I've been jamming at work, and it feels good. My boss & good friend leaves on vacation Friday. He's stressed and doesn't want to go. Poor guy. He needs to go. Hopefully the gods will provide with with plenty of warm evenings and hot men in the next couple weeks. He's earned it.

I was looking at the calendar, tracing the last fight I had with R, and the progress of our break-up. What's shocking is the rapidity of how it all fell apart - although for me issues had been building up for a long time. I tried to help him work through crisis after crisis since January, and avoiding bringing up my issues because I knew they would lead to a fight.

And they did.

Here goes:

Thursday, July 21: His birthday. I suprise him with two new koi, a tancho and a hikari-moya. I take him to dinner at Hiroshi's. We have more drinks at Momomo's. He wants to keep going; I'm drunk, tired, and need to work the next morning.

Saturday: We take a long bike ride through Kahala. Watch the dolphins. Bike around Diamond Head and to the beach. Dinner is at Keiko and Greg's. It's a good night, although he keeps going tot he kitchen and pouring himself drinks long after the rest of us had finished.

Sunday: He's still asleep at noon. I've been up for hours. I nudge him awake, tell him I'm going to the gym. "Without me?" he asks. I tell him there are things I need to think about. And he's out of bed and begins the verbal attacks. The fight lasts all day.

Monday: The fight lasts all day. We talk on the phone in the afternoon, and I think things are better, but I'm wrong. The fight begins again at night.

Tuesday: I tell him I'll leave work early, so that we can sit down and talk things out rationally. Without fighting, and without drinking. He calls me at work. He fell off his bike again, and is going to Hula's for a drink. Don't bother coming home early, he says. So I work til 6, get home, he's still at the bar. I won't talk to him when he's drinking, so I make temporary peace. He interprets that as that everything is ok. It isn't. I still haven't managed to finish the sentence I started Sunday morning. I'm still not pono. "Do you love me?" Yes, I love you. "Are you in love with me?" I don't know what that means anymore. The fight starts again. He spends the night piling his things in the middle of the living room.

Wednesday: I know the words to stop him from leaving, but I refuse to say them. He asks me to hold him one last time. I do. And I know then that I want out. I'll copy my old posting from that morning next. At 2pm that afternoon he called to say he was leaving.