a recipe

for meeting a soul mate in a gay bar when you're out of town

I pull out my earbuds after my call with L and the bats are calling above me. I've been planting cauliflower for you. You said it's the one thing you wanted to grow this fall and by God, if I don't grow you cauliflower I might just never grow anything ever again. It feels like maybe a storm is rolling in and all I can think about is you pulling into the driveway, your silver box behind my car, a signal that this is your house and my house, and now our house. In the garden is no longer just mine and the chickens are no longer just mine and sometimes I'm afraid to even begin to try and find the words for how happy I am because if I do maybe it will all collapse. So instead I will stand here with dirt on my hands and my hangnails stinging, watching the leaves create shadows across the sky and listening to the bats squeak and smell the rain that I hope will keep us sleepy and sweet and in bed for an hour later than we should be tomorrow morning.

My lover moved into my house a month ago.

My heart has expanded over and over every day since.

Is this an unnecessary way to express that we’ve had a perfectly lovely time so far? Yes. Of course it is, but this is for me, and not really for you, so I’ll write to entertain myself. and to keep track of the time.

The cats are getting along better than ever expected. We thought we were getting Rocky a kitten, but it’s Lampshades kitten. It, like It doesn’t have a name, Bucket, formally Home Depot Bucket, but often just called Buckie or Bubs. The right cat at the right time.

Right about this time two years ago, someone, who had bought me a very shiny thing that I never was given, decided that they had changed their mind and left me screaming through the cold months and crying on every street in Kirkwood. This was the third time I didn’t get to receive a very shiny thing that had been promised. Heartbreaks I will forever be grateful for. This isn’t about that. This is about the spring after the crying cold, about more long walks through Kirkwood, only this time I was calling in Big Love, I was whispering into hope and asking her to come when it was time. I was writing letters to You, like long-dead brides, bathing in oil, preparing for a husband they have never met. Another unnecessary sentence that I deeply enjoyed typing. Just a way to say, that I decided not to give up on love and romance and those things, but to take some seasons to be with myself so that when Big Love came, I was ready to avoid the patterns and pitfalls I had been repeating chronically, over 7 (yes 7) committed partnerships, in the last 11 years. (oof) I believe we have the potential for a massive load of love throughout our lives and that there’s not just ONE soul mate. That being said, I’d love to have a mortgage and pay taxes with one of those soulmates one day and I sure hope it’s the one I just snagged from NYC.

E’s Recipe for meeting a soul mate in a gay bar when you’re out of town.

Step 1. Get your ass kicked to the curb and cry for three months

Step 2. Get your ass back up off the curb, continue to cry because it’s good for your skin, and do something different than you’ve been doing.

Step 3. Make a commitment to yourself, to be true, loyal and good to the one person who will be with you from start to finish. you.

Step 4. Start to say Yes. To food and adventure and fear and new things and friends and alone time and books and grass and leaving town.

Step 5. Leave town. This is crucial for this particular recipe since it’s in the title. Other recipes do not call for this step. Thats ok.

Step 6. Go to a gay bar with Nor and friends. It’s Nora’s birthday and the birthday baby wants to dance, and you’ve been up since 5 Am, but the birthday baby gets what they want and you’re practicing saying yes.

Step 7. Make out with a stranger, and when that is AWFUL, make out with the stranger you’ve actually been staring at all night and were too afraid to approach, and then give her your number and only one letter of your name, and don’t tell her that you live in a different state until after she’s already asked you for a date.

Step 8. Let it bake until golden brown, check with a fork, if it comes out clean it’s ready, take it out and let it cool on a wire rack until cool to the touch and then drag her butt home to Georgia and get a cat.

This recipe is not for everyone. It’s for me. Reminder that all of this is just for me but it’s okay if you see something here that feels like maybe it’s for you too.

I’m happy and it’s different than before, and I hope the recipe worked and I hope the cauliflower doesn’t freeze tonight and I hope I forever keep on hoping because I think, for me, that is the key.