Something Stable: Something Gone

After a decade with someone, I am told that people settle down a bit and become more predictable. They become solid in the things they like and dislike. Ideally they leave themselves room for growth, but they should, SHOULD, be solid. I suppose that was true for me; I got slower, less active, and more introverted. My games and my three monitors, and four cats, and six friends, and one partner--all uncomplicated.

My job paid well, because cyberfluency is the currency of the now, DOW, and stock market. Battle-stations with multiple monitors are the Jet-Engine windowpanes of invisible money tracking. Invisible money all protected by the paladin traps of web-security and scrub personnel. I like how dangerous my job feels: like a 2 AM in East New York or Brownsville. My ergonomic chair is the metaphorical low-rider... with tinted windows. The gat on my side is code, patiently drawn and executed.

Why did the fifty-eighth hobby Mandy brought home unsettle me? This was the third hobby in the new year, the fifty-eighth since the time we've been together and the fortieth from the last two years. She started a novel and kept that for years. She started painting until oils and canvases crowded every closet, nearly every wall, and cluttered so many of her drawers. There was a point where I could not roll my chair a foot away from my desk, or else I risked paint getting everywhere. I couldn't walk without tripping. I couldn't find my slippers. My cats waited in corners, too afraid to step onto canvas. That lasted a few years too. She bought a portable stripper pole, used it three times, got sore, stopped, and left it where she installed it. She tried yoga, then bodybuilding in rapid succession. Just two weeks for each! When she tried dancing, the feeling something unusual was happening finally struck but my brain fell short of making a conclusion. Then there was film, food blogging, Dominoes, Majong, and Witchcraft. All these new hobbies crowded the usually spacious apartment.

At our next Dungeons and Dragons session, Dave mentioned something about ballroom.

"Ballroom?" I said "you dance?"

"Yea dude," he said "I got into it to prepare for ma's second marriage".

"How's that feel?" I said.

"Ohhh...good...better..." he said "A bit weird but it's been eight years since dad. Luka is a good dude but he can't dance. I figure she'd be happy to dance with me in dad's memory."

"That's nice," I said "I can't dance either."

"Awwww," Mandy said "THAT's why you started?"

Again. That unsettling feeling.

"You knew?" I asked Mandy "I never would have figured Dave was a dancer."

"I knew," she said, before rolling her dice "He started cooking too."

Later that night, I was in my ergonomic chair with my back in pain. I couldn't push the chair back to relax, the wheels kept getting caught on new hobbies. Hunched over my screen, looking at lines, cross-eyed, words detached from any meaning or interpretation, I was brain dead. My low rider was busted, my gat firing endlessly into the void. Chucked the metaphorical spaghetti against the wall and hoped something would stick. My spaghetti was underdone, a step away from flour -- fucking dusty.

"He started cooking too"

Looking around, the mess pressed on all sides. I couldn't remember the last time Mandy and I had done anything new together, outside of Dungeons and Dragons. Work, stress, life. Could Dave make al dente spaghetti? Or would he deal with the underdone mess I dealt with?

"He started cooking too"

Huh. Is repetition a new hobby? How does Mandy know that? When did Mandy find out?

As I watched her fall asleep, I wanted to ask. Eventually, she fell asleep and I didn't. Through the night, I thought about her days. Her changing plans because something came up. Her changing outfits three times and heading out. The clutter. Eventually my head was swimming, the stucco ceiling was moving like the surface of an ocean boiling, and then I must have fallen asleep. I dreamt of waves; the first was small, the sand barely pulled toward the surf when the wave broke hard against my knee, the second larger and more insistent, the third tugging me into water waist deep, the fourth forcing me to dive, and the fifth so large that I watched the water rise far above my head, the sand dry for ten feet in front of me, the shadow of the wave reaching far behind me. When the weight of the wave reached it's height, I knew I could not run from it, or toward it, I could only wait for it to hit. As the water fell, I woke up. She was awake, dressing for work.

"How did you know about Dave cooking?" I asked.

"Oh, we've cooked together," she said.

We order out. She never cooks at home. I wanted to ask when she had the time. I wanted to ask why she didn't ask me. I could learn. I could use a new hobby. My mind was racing as she left for work. On the kitchen table was one dirty dish, in the sink there was one dirty frying pan and spatula. She knew I couldn't tolerate the mess and as I cleaned the dishware my thoughts became more and more erratic. I thought about leaving them. I thought about throwing them through the window. I even thought about cooking with them. I have Google. I don't need someone to show me how to crack an egg and use a goddamn spatula.

I did yoga. I showered. I fed the cats. I cleared a path for them from bowls to beds to litter boxes. I showered again. I dressed for work and got a toasted everything bagel with lox and cream cheese. I even got myself a nice coffee for a nice change of pace. Still I could not outrun the thought that she may not come home tonight. Which is a clear over reaction. SO WHAT she learned to dance. SO WHAT she learned to cook.

I waited until 8 until I went to bed. I called to ask if she would be held up at work and didn't get an answer. I left a voicemail asking whether or not she would prefer Indian or Italian tonight. She called back but of course I somehow missed her call. There was a new voicemail from Dave but I figure he just had questions about the last Dungeons and Dragons session. She left me a voice mail approximately 35 minutes later. I would have all day tomorrow to listen to it.