The last couple of months have been sort of a blur for me. I had a frenzied few weeks of activity to get our house ready to sell (followed by a period of doing pretty much nothing, because I damn well earned it), and my social calendar was frankly ridiculous for a while there. The house is on the market now (and has been for a month, sigh), so every once in a while we have to frantically clean and then get out of the house so it can be shown. I quit a job, slobbed around for a while, then started applying for others. My Etsy store continues to make a few sales a week, which is awesome. Even more awesome: I bought a motorcycle. I sold my last one just after Dani was born, and hadn't ridden since. Now I can't fathom why I ever stopped. And of course, like any good nerd, I've spent the last week completely immersed in Diablo 3.
And all of this is aside from perhaps the largest development in my life lately: my boyfriend. We've been dating for a couple of months, and it's been a wonderful, giddy, exciting, and sometimes scary experience...the kind that I had a couple of times when I was much younger, but was certain that now, at 30, I'd never have again. I was okay with that--I'm older and wiser than I was ten years ago, and I'm more grounded, mature, and realistic about relationships. I didn't want or need to have an all-consuming whirlwind romance--who has the energy for that, especially with a family? And the stress! Ugh, no thanks.
Well, shows what I know. I'm ridiculously in love and wouldn't have it any other way. Somewhere, the younger me is sticking her tongue out and yelling, "I told you so!"
New relationships can be frustrating when you're not out as polyamorous to your family. You learn to dread that ubiquitous query: "So, what's new?" I just shrug and say "not much," because a lot of what I do these days involves him in some way, and I'm not up to the challenge of creatively editing him out of my stories. It must sound like I've gotten pretty boring lately.
Strangely, I'm not at all opposed to the idea of being out to my family (posting about it on this blog would be pretty dumb otherwise, even if I'm pretty sure none of them read it), but the conversations involved are awkward enough that I sort of instinctively avoid them. Frankly, until pretty recently, it wasn't terribly relevant to anything. The occasional casual date doesn't really warrant the hassle of explaining polyamory to your parents.
It's beginning to look like those conversations are going to have to happen, though, if for no other reason than we're sure to be accidentally outed soon by our increasingly chatty 3-year-old. She knows who I'm seeing when I go out, and I expect sometime Grandma will get an earful about how Mommy spends her Monday nights.