Sean's Graduation Party Awards

Best bit of information gleaned from all the guests: calling a student more interested in social functions than academics a "partiology" major!!!

Best food on the table: some kind of pulled Thai pork over rice!

Sexiest food: a sticky, warm, chocolate dip for grapes - probably would taste much better on bare skin.

Best beverage of the evening: Rolling Rock longnecks on ice.

Most interesting party guest: Byron, the outgoing, youngest child of his family and only son, culinary expert, super-hero-shirted friend who eagerly shared his cheesecake and complimented my well-pedicured toes (read: paid more attention to ME than the other guests [I'm THAT shallow]).

Now for the analysis and review . . . .

So, there we were:
the physicist
the newlyweds
the roommate
the sister
the very quiet girl
the hosting parents
the grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins
Byron, Sean and me.

Everyone there was either related to Sean, or had known him since 5th grade or 9th grade. I was the new kid. I arrived before ANYONE making myself SO conspicuously out of place, but I wanted to get there early enough for Sean to show me the COSTUMES! They were truly GREAT!

The mother is beautiful, intelligent, warm and responsive, and I'd enjoy spending time with her if I had ANY excuse in the world to do it. The dad is handsome, polite, and introspective. I could see the wheels turning all evening, but not to generate many words - he was just processing. The living room bookshelves were quite an outline of the Corley family values with much on religion, God, and Jesus, and mingled in were books on history, science, and classic literature. The decor was very warm and inviting, and I could imagine being a guest there and curling up anywhere in the house (preferably the screened-in porch) with a blanket and one of the books I saw. The music playing was very nice - Frank Sinatra and jazz selections played at just the right volume to be heard, but not interfere with conversation. I'd also love to spend some time in the yard with the Corleys - especially in the labyrinth which Mrs. Corley explained to me and I'd love to experience.

I felt very drawn to this whole "thing." I was invited in, welcomed, and enjoyed. I wanted to be there and know and be known. The confusing question is . . . why? What possible reason would there be for me to be this involved? I know that what I'm feeling isn't some maternal caretaking thing, it's not a heated, physical, surface attraction either. It isn't a brother/sister thing, it isn't an intellectual rival thing, and he's not gay - so it isn't that. It's like my chemoreceptors are looking for some sort of Sean molecule, and I'm more relaxed or something when they find it.

I'm sure the friends, the sister, the family are just thinking "that's odd." I expect my husband is thinking, "that's odd." It's very "out of body," and therein may be the attraction. I feel like a chesspiece who has been taken off one board and put onto another - for a short time - every time I show up at J Rag, and tonight at the Corley home. Maybe it's just a sane person's total break with reality for a little while every week. I feel transported back to a time in my youth when I thought guys and girls could be friends with no complications, only I haven't believed that for a long, long time. This whole situation has outgrown the little box that I had it neatly tucked away in, and now I have to look at it for a while and size it up and decide where to keep it.

Meanwhile, I just look forward to the next lunch.

Back to the party review, if you wanted to do a new version of Gilligan's Island, make Byron the Skipper, I'll be Ginger, the Physicist will be "the Professor," the newlyweds will be the Howells, the sister would have to be MaryAnn, and that only leaves Sean to be Gilligan. He'll love reading this.

I figured out a few things . . .
Things are simply not well at the casa de Montalbano. They've never been truly well. The situation is really somewhat abusive (not physically), and I've been embarrassed to acknowledge that and move forward to a healthier way of life.

There are all the possible reasons for the bad behavior, but that doesn't make this a healthy place to live for me and the children. Things must change.

That's what got me so freaky and displaced at the party Friday night. I walked into the home of people who are somewhat healthy and at peace, and I had no clue how to function in it. There was no need to crack jokes, intellectualize, or sexualize - so I sat kind of quietly. Holy crap. That freaks me out even more. If I truly think about it, the only homes I'm ever in are mine and Mom and Dad's. Mom has Alzheimers Disease and has undergone personality changes that make her moody, paranoid, and delusional, so Dad and I have to always be on guard to defend ourselves or redirect Mom's attention. Then in my own home, there is Monty, and I have to always be on guard to defend myself, diffuse him, or redirect his attention. Holy crap.

It all came to a head this weekend because I mowed the knee-high grass after he left to take the children to his Mom's for the weekend. This is something that I know he gets upset about. Is it a control thing? Is it that I do it badly? Do I truly INJURE the lawn's ability to recover greenness or growth? No, he explained that it is like I'm shining a spotlight on one of his inconsistencies.

Then today, I wanted to buy a few plants and a tree for the back yard and plant them in a spot that I thought was out of the way of what we needed to have worked on in prep for the deck we're building. NOOOOOOO! You can't DO that! he says.

So, I can't clean the aquarium that looks like a nightmarish version of "Finding Nemo" when they plotted to escape by blocking the filter. I can't mow the grass. I can't plant things in the yard to make a pretty spot to enjoy. I can't move things around in the house according to what I think would be more functional. I can only do those things that he deems worthy when he is available to do them with me, and any reminders or scheduling questions are me NAGGING that they aren't yet done. He has to control everything. He must grant permission for everything, or do it himself in his own time, in his own way, and with no suggestions - helpful or otherwise - from me.

When I ask him about his schedule for tomorrow, he FREAKS! I'm pressuring him, checking up on him, nagging him to do more. I just looked at him and said, "Monty, do you know how fucked up it is that you react that way?" He realizes and says yes and that he needs to make some changes. OK, so now the flood gates are open and I can just cry this whole thing out.

So, my over-emotional reactions in the past weeks are probably some REAL feelings - delight, joy, friendship, peace, relating - and they are taking me by surprise and the tears are coming forth as if from nowhere! I have to be so NUMB all the time at home to be able to function without crying, that real feelings are odd. I had tears at lunch one day while we were practically laughing at some joke. I began to cry at the party Friday night because of something Sean's mom had done for him and he was showing me and letting me in. I'm practically nagging Sean to make changes in his life because he's obviously unhappy, because I need to make changes in MY life and I'm completely frozen! AND, I don't know if I'll have time for lunch tomorrow to sort all this out in person, so I'm clueless as to what to do. So, I blog.

Radar's working. You walk into the room.
I turn to look at you.

Capture your glance
hold your eyes - lock on, drink in
absorb you, hold you, smell you. Aware.

Thinking about your lower lip, the texture of your skin,
the strength in your thighs, your sigh.

It's all in my head. I laugh at myself, glance over.
Always a pleasure. Thanks.