We're all going to make it.
Or...
We've already made it.
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As abhorrent as their decision was to reunite musically (and allegedly sexually), Chris and Rihanna are not relationship anti-Christs but rather a symbol of what really happens in a disproportionate number of our intimate partnerships. A victim of domestic violence will attempt to leave their abuser an average of 7 times before permanently disengaging. The reality is that ChriHanna’s dysfunctional abuse cycle was interrupted early because of their fame - they are simply continuing down a well-tread path covered in millions of other abusive relationships.
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So I went to POWER for the beginning of last year, but every time we only talked about birth control… which is totally cool, but, but, everyone was saying things from personal experiences and frankly, I’m gay, and don’t feel that birth control and… I had nothing to bring to the table, nor think that birth control is the only feminist issue. It’s a straight feminist’s issue or a raped feminist’s or a raped person’s issue-but no one even brought up birth control in that context, so, yeah, I haven’t been to POWER lately.
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My quality of life and nights has increased
a ridiculous amount since April 27th, 2012. A Friday Night.
I need to archive this. I’m tired of forgetting about things I love. This is not for you in total. This is for me and everybody when everything I write down dies and the internet will be alive forever. That is a lie as well.
Checklist:
Sunday, April 29th: Got flower. Put in cup. (Will not bloom). Stairwell & Promise for more Friday Nights. What will it look like? Uncharted territory. I like Allison as a friend, but I also want to kiss Allison. It’s difficult. We’ll keep it simple.
Monday, April 30th: Walk to Yoga. Got Bread Pudding from Old Peninsula. Ate together, all sticky. Stayed up working and getting shit done. So much shit done. Laundry and list-making.
Tuesday, Wednesday (make list on picnic table outside Trowbridge), Thursday: Cat Rehearsals. Shoulder holding on top of Dalton stairs.
Thursday Night: Hot. Hot. Hot. 2 in the morning cold shower. Stephanie come in. Cold washcloth, close door. Awkward laugh so hard. Leg up. Have to sleep.
Friday, May 4th: Women’s Studies watch abortion video. Decide that if one of us was male, we would be over.
Friday Night, again: KPEP reading. Come, watch Flobot videos in lounge. Count number of strokes on back. Ask her if she’d like to fall asleep. Half-sleep under halloween Christmas lights. Worth it. Leaves at five in the morning and wakes you to say “sleep, sleep, sleep”
Saturday, May 5th: Eat dinner. Walk together. Get ibuprofen for her. Dance to Whitney Houston and Beyonce in FAB lounge handing out programs. Perfect Show. Hugging on Stage.
Saturday Night: Dance at Cat-after party. Yes. Yes. Yes.
Eat cake in Trowbridge hall. She asks if she is moving to fast. You laugh. Relief. Go to Tanj’s. Brittany and Melba break your heart. Pooh onesie shirt. Burnett’s. Holding hands under blanket. 10 fingers. Ring of Fire. Just drink Sprite. Tanj tells you you are not a baby. You adore Tanj. Talk about man. Apples to Apples. You can’t stop touching. You are in public. You love this. You leave. Go to Gender-Nuetral bathroom. Talk about what you want to do at 4 in the morning. You take photos of her. Three. You go to corners to make decisions. You take 45 minutes. You realize that you are in no rush. You know because Sara and Bianca have ordered Spice and Rice and ate it in the time that you have been in the bathroom. Go to her room. Clear off her bed of laundry. Fall in her bed in a soft and hot and sweaty sleep. Half-sleep. Half-hold. You leave at 9 and sleep until 12. You need to write a paper, now.
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