A few of you have emailed me wondering just what's happening, and why I've been so quiet of late.

Personal things have contributed.

I recall reading somewhere, don't even know if the author was a novelist or a philosopher, an interesting analogy. He likened life to be like padding down a river. At times, the river will broaden out into a slow-moving lake or bay, perhaps one with several exits. You have several options, with time to reflect upon them. Later, you may find yourself flying through rapids in a steep-walled canyon, with little choice but to hang on and survive the experiences consequent to your earlier choices, with little resembling "free will."

The last few months have seen the ending of a major section of my life, and toss me into one of those placid bays where the options are more diverse.

After around eight years, CG and I have decided that we will no longer live together.

We'll always be friends and lovers. But she'll be moving out to go live with some friends of hers, and I'll be deciding in the next few days whether I want to stay here in this place, find something else, toss all my shit in storage and roam the world, or what.

As to the whys and wherefores, I'm not really comfortable with detailing them, as I don't think it's fair to let you folks hear just my side of the story, so further deponeth sayeth not. I will say it was nothing horrible or dramatic, more just an continuing erosion of affection brought on by all the silly little crapola of everyday life.

Until now, our sex life has been the mortar that held us together despite some fairly striking incompatabilities. Seems though, we both woke up one day to learn that we needn't preserve all of the relationship, just the sweet and sticky parts. :-)

It's feeling weird for me. I've almost always had a full-time, live-in lover in my life. From my early 20's to the present, save for about 6-8 months after my divorce (twelve years ago, for you newbies) I've had a lover. Being on my own again seems at once liberating, but flavored with what tastes like another failure.

I know I shouldn't feel that way, we still love each other, the parting is amicable, etc., but even a hard-headed guy like me can't escape some of the social conditioning that whispers to us that when a relationship ends, that we've done something wrong.

After Kate Hepburn died a bit back, I read many of the obligatory remembrances of her. In one, they quoted her her opinion that there was nothing wrong with getting married, but she thought that married couples should simply get houses next door to one another, to preserve their individuality and personal space.

Methinks pr'aps she was on to something. :-)

Update: As of today, 8/11, she's still not found a place to stay. Then again, she hasn't been trying all that hard. A part of me is Ok with that, while another, perhaps larger part, wants to get this separation over with.

Update 8/16/2003: She's moving out Tuesday to live with a friend for a while. But it will take until the end of the month before she gets all her stuff out. The woman has some stuff.