A Real Date for Ricky

I had a real date tonight. One with dinner and conversation and laughter and smiles and knowing glances. With hand holding and a kiss or two here and there. With plans to meet again Thursday or Friday when it was all done. And with the most adorable comment from him, as he left my arms after the last long hug at the end of the evening... "Reserve that spot for me." No problem whatsoever. The card is already in place.

Attack of the Killer Meme!

These Memes are going around faster than Malaria in Laura Ingalls Wilder days. I swear. So I've been tagged. Thank you Scot-A-Rama.... or is that Scoot O- Roma... Scott-Aroma? Anyway. Thanks a lot. The name of the game is TWENTY QUESTIONS. You ask me the questions. In the comments. You know, the little things you're supposed to type after reading my posts but you sometimes forget to, hence why I never have many comments. Just click "Rckts Red Glare" or if one person has already commented, "Rckt in my Pckt" or if many people have commented, "Blasting Off!" After I am satisfied that enough people have asked questions, I will answer 20 of them. And I will give you credit for your questions, since you thought so long and hard about them. I'm giving that way. And then, when you least expect it, you might just get tagged back. It's the christian thing to do, after all.

Our Lady of the Underpass (?)

Only in America... or more specifically... in Chicago, at the Fullerton Avenue underpass. Drivers and the faithful from miles around are blocking traffic on Interstate 90 (a/k/a the Kennedy Expressway) to view the supposed image of the Virgin Mary on the wall of the underpass. I personally love that it says "Satan Loves U" right next to the "apparition." We see what we want to see... What do you see? photo courtesy of Chicago Tribune

Livin' La Vida Loca

Life has been crazy lately. Crazy = loca. Get it? The show is over. Did you see it? Pity. You should have. It was a blast. I think the reviews will all be good, but I'm not a reviewer so what do I know? All I know is the audience had a great time and the crowds were not half bad. So that was fun. There's always a sense of letdown when a show closes. All that hard work and time spent rehearsing pays off, but it's just such a short payoff. Three shows is not enough. I wanted more. Oh well, it's over now. But it was fun nonetheless. Now back to somewhat real life. Last night, there was no rehearsal, since we had rehearsed and performed all weekend. So of course, what does a good chorus boy do on his day off? Go out! I headed to Sidetrack and met a fairly large contingent of chorus boys there for "Showtune night." Fun times commenced. As the showtunes ended (promptly at 9:00), the crowds started to thin. I found myself talking to an attractive gentleman seated along the side of the main bar area. The talking turned into my arm around him, which turned into holding of hands, which turned into a few stolen kisses. Which turned into a date Tuesday night (nothing is set yet, but that's what I'm going for.) I got his number and I am going to call him tonight. I think I deserve this... after all, with all I've been through. :)

Rick's Greatest Hits

My car is falling apart. From bumper to bumper, as each week goes by, it is becoming a magnet for dings, dents, and broken pieces. It's not pretty. The worst part about all of this is that the majority of the scars on my car occurred while it was parked right outside my front door. Talk about frustrating. This Sunday, the greatest hit yet occurred. I walked out of my front door to find the front bumper laying on the ground. Pictures are forthcoming. Each dent, bruise and severed appendage has a story to be told, and each one is as unbelievable as the next. Fun abounds, folks!!!!

Spring Cleaning

I love cleaning for spring. About as much as I love folding socks, or doing laundry for that matter. Still, it has to be done, so I grit my teeth and muddle through it. I'm the type of person that lets his place go for a bit. OK, I can be pretty sloppy. My dining room table piles up with mail and other crap, the dusting goes unaccounted for, the cat hair builds up in little piles and dustbunnies... I'm lazy. I admit it. So for me to give my place a thorough head-to-toe cleaning, I have to have a good reason. So this Saturday, I created a good reason. I invited some people over for dinner. Nothing gets my ass in gear faster than company. This place is sparkly and I love it. It actually started with a chat with one of my fellow Windy City Slickers. He asked if I wanted to go to Ikea with him (Ikea is out in the burbs so if someone offers to go, you accept. It's just common courtesy!) I fully did not intend to buy anything. But I saw something that caught my fancy. And then I saw the price. So I couldn't say no. I bought a potrack for my kitchen. I. LOVE. IT. And I love it so much that I'm posting pictures of it here for your viewing pleasure... since, after all, who doesn't like to look at other people's kitchens and go "Oooh that's so nice, I wish I had that?" I think I deserved this, after the hellish past few weeks I've had. Shopping cures all woes. Don't you agree?

(Good to be) Back again!

Taking a break is hard. I was feeling emotionally low on Monday. I'm still a little down. Nothing too new there really. But it's good to be back. Thanks for all of your notes and comments. It helped to get through the dark spots. :) So what happened in the last week? Actually not a whole lot. But as the week progressed it got stressful again. And let me tell you, it makes me very happy to be sitting here typing this message. Very happy, indeed. On Wednesday night, I was working on a project for one of my co-workers. I had just wrapped it up and was just about to Email it to him in PDF format, when I noticed the computer starting to slow down. The hard drive would pause every 3-5 minutes, and I would hear a rhythmic clicking sound. After about 30 seconds of that, it would resume and everything work work just fine. I knew that sound. I knew it well. It was the sound of my hard drive dying.... or something like that. I panicked. If I were thinking clearly, I would have immediately started backing up as much of everything as I possibly could. But I wasn't thinking clearly. Oh no, not at all. I restarted the computer. And when it came back up... I got a message saying that a file was missing and Windows could not reboot. AUUUUGGGGGHHHH! After trying a few diagnostic things (I consider myself pretty well-versed in the way of computers,) I decided to call Dell's technical support number. The heavily-accented gentleman on the other end of the line had me run some of the diagnostics, and after a few tries, he determined that my hard drive needed to be replaced. I was livid. Not only was I livid at the thought of losing all of my files... I was livid because this was the SECOND time this happened to this computer since I bought it. It was also the THIRD time that I have had a problem with a hard drive in the last THREE years. (The first was on the computer that I replaced with this one.) I told the man on the phone of my displeasure in simple, concise, and yet surprisingly not vulgar terms. He agreed with me that this was, indeed, an unfortunate situation, and that I simply was having "bad luck" with the hard drives. I told him he had better hope he is right about that, because if it happens again, I will not pay for the computer. I will want a new one. He arranged to have someone come to my house and replace the drive. I bought the computer in September of 2004 so it is still under warranty. That's two hard drives in about six months. Ridiculous. I also talked to the manager of the Tech Support system and he futher assured me that Dell would do whatever necessary to get my computer running again. I thanked him finally said good bye. When all of this started, it was already 1:00 in the morning. By the time I was through with Dell Technical Support (I should have asked him where they were... I have a feeling they are in India) it was 4:00 AM. My nerves were wrecked, my pulse was racing, and I had no idea if I could ever get to sleep. I was in full-on panic mode. I had to take a Tylenol PM to sleep. And I did sleep... much later than I should have. So I called in to work and took a mental health day. All day long (after finally waking up) I laid in bed, reading books, watching TV, cleaning the kitchen... anything I could do to stay away from the computer debacle. Finally I made up my mind that I would try something on my own. I had a Best Buy gift card, and I had just gotten paid. I went out to buy a new hard drive of my own for the computer. My theory was this: If I installed the new hard drive and reinstalled Windows; then set up the old hard drive as a slave drive to the new one, I might just be able to access my files on the old drive. It was worth a try, and since I didn't know when the guy from Dell was going to arrive with my new drive, I didn't want to wait any longer. Sometimes I scare myself with the amount of technical know-how I possess. IT WORKED. When I found that I could access the old drive and my files were all still there, I could have turned cartwheels inside my apartment. WHAT A RELIEF! I copied everything I could possibly need off the old drive and put it on the new drive, and breathed a huge sigh of relief. And then I finished the project that I meant to finish the night before. Because I could. Thank goodness I had at least the good sense to hit "Save!" The next day the guy from Dell came to replace the damaged drive... so now I have two drives in my computer: one 160GB drive and one 120GB drive. Let the good times roll! So you see... the moral to today's lesson is, "Just when you think everything is about to crumble around you, and the world looks like it's going to end for you, somehow, somewhere, there is a ray of hope. You just have to find it and ride it for all it's worth." Or something like that. :) So I'm back... but I will probably be posting very spottily in the next week again. It's "Hell Week" for Chicago Gay Men's Chorus, and it's going to be extremely busy. I hope that if you're in the Chicago area, you'll check out "In The Mood" ... it's going to be a swingin' good time. :) Argh, which reminds me, I have to buy a black shirt.

Back in...

I need a short break. I'm just a little tapped out with what to say lately. I will be back in a week or so. I hope you'll be back when I return.

Farewell to another friend

Michael, Mimi and Me. March 5, 2005 My phone rang at 6:00 AM. Still groggy with sleep, I tried to make out the name on the Caller ID. It didn't look familar so I let it ring and went back to bed. When the phone rang again at 6:30 I looked again at the name. It was my friend Kevin from Madison. I knew this couldn't be good news. He wouldn't be trying to call me so early, and with such persistence. I was right. It wasn't good news at all. Our friend Michael, who I had just seen when I was in Madison earlier this month, had committed suicide the night before. Michael, Kevin and I were part of the Wisconsin State officer team for Delta Epsilon Chi (Collegiate DECA) in 1993-1994. I was the Wisconsin State President, Michael was Executive Vice President. He was my roommate at many functions and a friend almost instantly. We even traveled together to the National competition that year in Detroit. Michael was a fun-loving guy. Always ready with a laugh and a smile, and with a knack for being quite the ladies' man. I sang at Michael's first wedding. He and his fiance had some ideas on what they wanted me to sing, but I found the song "Grow Old With Me" by John Lennon and played it for them, and they loved it. (I would later sing that same song at my sister's wedding.) Unfortunately, that marriage ended rather quickly. Michael was saddened by this, and fell into a state of despair. He called upon our friend Mimi, who also served on the state team with us, for comfort and support. He came through it, and eventually moved on. A little later he moved to Cincinnati to work for a regional airport. After a few years there, he met a new lady and eventually married her. They had a daughter together. But in the last few months, this relationship, too, turned sour, and Michael was again split from his spouse. (I don't know any details and would not share them here if I did, but I do know that this split was definitely against his will.) He had heard about everyone who was going to the conference in Madison in March, so he decided to go. As news spread about his being there, more and more people signed on to be a part of the conference. Michael was a popular guy, and people liked to be around him. We loved him, and we had an awesome time that weekend. I will remember it always. I never, ever thought he would do this. I knew he had bouts of depression. I knew he had thought about it before. But I never thought he would actually follow through. But he did. And now we are left to pick up the pieces. I miss my friend. I regret not spending more time with him. I regret not sending him the pictures I took of him with me and our other friends that weekend in Madison. I regret not calling him once in a while and just shooting the shit. But regret can't bring him back. So I will remember him. I will remember the laughs we had; as recent as three weeks ago, and as far back as 10 years ago. I will remember his "It's Bacon" impression from the "Beggin' Strips" commercials that were popular in the 90's. I will remember his suave mannerisms and his slick way with the ladies when were were just kids. I will remember his goofy laugh and his offbeat sense of humor. I will remember his acceptance of me when I came out to him. I will remember the drive to Detroit and the trip through scary and deserted Benton Harbor, thinking we would get killed (even though there was nobody around to kill us.) I will remember sitting up during conferences and talking our hearts out about everything from family to friendships; to God and love. And the memories that I keep of him will last much longer than this painful end. I will miss you, Michael. Farewell, my friend. I hope you are finally at peace.

Spring Fling

Thank GOD. I was getting so sick of winter I could spit. It's been in the 60s and 70s all week this week, with tons of sun and even a couple thunderstorms. Spring is here, and I couldn't be happier. Of course, as is typical with Chicago's Spring season, there will be a good number of 40 and 50 degree days to counteract Spring's arrival, and maybe even another snowstorm. That's just how things go in the big "Windy" city. But for right now, I'm enjoying the fact that the air is a little warmer, the sun shines a little longer, and the grass is starting to turn a little greener. The one thing I don't like, however... who the fuck told the birds they could start chirping at midnight? Hello? Go to bed for chrissake! Which is where I am heading right now. With a pillow over my head. Grr.

Roll me down the highway

Easter. Christmas. Thanksgiving. Birthdays. Family holidays one and all. Time to get together and... EAT. I swear I engorge myself with more fatty, delicious, home-cooked treats at these family get-togethers than at any other time of the year. When Mom and I get together, we are a deadly cooking team. For instance, we prepared three pans of homemade Lasagna for Easter dinner. Three full 9x13 pans. For all of six people. But we didn't stop there... Mom had already made our family's delicious Easter Bread in preparation for the day, but we decided to get even more crafty and found an old recipe we used to make for Potato Tarragon with Sour Cream and Chive Bread. Talk about yummy. ;) But it was getting late, and we didn't want to bother with making it so late. So we dusted off Mom's bread machine and portioned down the recipe for the machine. And it turned out perfectly!! Yes, we are a bit nuts in the kitchen. And no, folks, we didn't stop there. Because Easter morning, we had to make Italian Fritatta. In case you don't know, Fritatta is a huge omelet with tons and tons of cheese, Italian sausage, and this year, meatballs. DE-LISH-US! It's the best part about Easter morning. Now you didn't think that I was going to talk about all these yummy things without sharing recipes did you? Of course not. What kind of friend would I be? :) I am actually going to work with my mom on producing her own recipe book on CD-ROM. She already has a ton of her favorite recipes typed up and saved on her computer. I'm also thinking of getting a bunch of my Grandma and Nana's favorite recipes and putting them on the CD as well... Might ask my Aunt too. It'll be the Aiello Family Recipe CD ROM. Hmmm. I'm really liking this idea. :) So watch your mailboxes, you might be getting a gift this Christmas. ;) OK no more chatter... Here are some recipes for you to sample. Easter Bread 8 ½ -10 C. Flour 1 ½ C milk 2 pkg. Yeast (4 tsp.) ½ C water l ¾ C sugar ¾ C. Butter 1 tbsp. salt 4 eggs In a large bowl combine 3 C. Flour, yeast, sugar and salt. Blend well. Heat milk, water and butter in pan until warm (120-130 degrees). Butter doesn't have to melt completely (2-3 minutes in microwave). Add to flour mixture and mix well. Add all eggs and blend on low until well mixed (3 minutes, medium speed). Gradually add flour until dough is firm. Turn out on floured surface and knead until smooth and elastic. (5 minutes) Put in greased bowl and cover. Let rise until doubled. Turn out and punch down. Divide into 3 loaves and place in greased pans. Allow to rise again until doubled. Bake at 350 for 25-30 minutes or 325 for 35-40 minutes. Should be golden brown. Cake tester should come out clean. Baked Italian Easter Frittata 1 pound bulk Italian sausage (can also add small meatballs) 2 dozen eggs 1 pound ricotta cheese 1 pound shredded mozzarella cheese ¼-½ C. Grated Parmesan/Romano cheese cooking spray 3 tbsp. Oil Separate sausage into small pieces and fry until brown. Drain grease and set aside. Beat eggs with mixer until foamy. Mix in cheeses. Add cooked sausage. Spray 15x10x2 pan with cooking spray and coat the bottom of the pan with oil. Spread egg mixture in pan and level off. Bake at 350 degrees 45-55 minutes until frittata is set and top is golden brown. Remove from oven, cover with aluminum foil and let stand 10 minutes. Cut into squares and serve. Makes 10-12 servings. Tarragon Potato Bread with Sour Cream & Chives 6-6 ½ C flour 2 pkg. Yeast 1 ½ C milk 2 tbsp sugar 2 tsp salt 2 tbsp butter or margarine 1 can condensed potato soup ½ C sour cream ¼ C chives 1 tsp dried tarragon Combine 2 ½ of flour and yeast in a large mixer bowl. In a saucepan, heat milk, sugar, salt, and butter or margarine until just warm, stirring constantly to melt butter. Add dry ingredients to mixing bowl. Add soup, chives, sour cream, and tarragon. Mix well. Scrape sides frequently. Add remaining flour to make a moderately stiff dough. Turn out on floured surface. Knead until smooth, 5-8 minutes. Cover and let rise till double. 50-60 minutes. Punch down. Cover. Let rest 10 minutes. Divide dough in half and shape into 2 loaves. Place in 2 greased loaf pans. Let rise till double, about 30 minutes. Bake 400 degree oven for 30 minutes or till bread tests done. Italian Meatballs 1 Pound Ground Beef Garlic Powder (1/4 Cup approx... I don't measure. :) 1 egg Bread Crumbs (1/3 Cup approx.) Parmesan Cheese (1/2 Cup approx.) Oregano, Basil, Parsley to taste Salt, Pepper to taste Mix all ingredients together by hand or with mixer. Form meatballs by rolling by hand or scooping with melon baler and fry or bake at 350° until browned well. Tomato sauce (meatless) Olive Oil 48 oz of Tomato sauce or puree Garlic Cloves, Oregano, Basil, Parsley, Salt & Pepper Mince garlic (I usually use about 2 cloves for every 24 ounces of sauce.) Prepare sauce or puree (open cans and get em ready!) Heat olive oil in deep pan. Drop garlic into hot oil. Stir and let it heat well. Lower heat. The garlic will begin to blossom and become pungent. Add oregano and basil to taste. When garlic starts to break down, add sauce to mixture. Heat should be at medium, no higher. Stir in salt and pepper to taste. Add more Oregano, Basil and Parsley as needed. Cover and simmer, stirring regularly. Do not let sauce sit too long or it will burn. Note: if using puree, you may want to add about a can of water for each can used to the mix as it will be very thick. You can add more or less water as necessary to your preferences. Aiello Family Lasagna (For one pan of Lasagna) One box Lasagna Pasta 48 oz. Pasta Sauce 1 lb. Meatballs 1 lb. Italian Sausage (3-4 sausages) 4-5 hard-boiled eggs 16-32 oz Ricotta Cheese 16-32 oz Mozzarella Cheese Approx. 16 oz. Parmesan or Romano Cheese Boil pasta until al dente (not soft.) Peel and slice eggs. Spray 9 x 13 baking pan. Add a small amount of sauce to the bottom of the pan. Layer pasta noodles along bottom of pan. Be sure to overlap as you lay them in. Add meatballs, sausage, eggs, ricotta cheese to layer. Add mozzarella cheese last. Use plenty of cheese, as this is your glue to hold the layers together. Pour about 1 cup of sauce over all ingredients. Sprinkle with Parmesan or Romano cheese. Add another layer of pasta. Repeat process until you reach the top of the pan. The last pasta layer should be covered with a thin layer of sauce, then sprinkled with Mozzarella and Parmesan/Romano cheese. Bake in 375° oven for 1 hour covered with foil. Remove foil after hour and bake for 15 more minutes or until top is bubbly and crusty. Remove from oven and let sit for about 20 minutes. Cut into squares and serve with leftover sauce and Parmesan/Romano cheese.

Co-Dependency and Me: A Relationship No More. (Conclusion)

Prologue: Thank you to everyone who had such encouraging comments in the last few posts. When I started this blog, I never intended to get so intensely personal... but with things going the way they had (which you will read about in today's post,) I just had to get it all out of my system. This has been wonderfully powerful and therapeutic thing for me to do, and I appreciate all the friends I have out there who are so helpful. So without further ado... Part VII: The Final Straw My ex had been through the wringer, but our relationship was over. He had been through treatment many times in his then-36 years, but this would prove to be the most difficult round of treatment he ever had. And he knew it. He had to take it seriously and stick with his program. In fact, his doctors told him as he was detoxing, "If you don't stay sober this time, you are going to die." Now if that doesn't scare someone sober, I don't know what does. But some people just don't get it, and I'm not quite sure he gets it... even to this day. Upon completing the treatment program, my ex moved into a "Safe House" to live in California. The "Safe House" is a closely guarded environment for people just getting out of programs for drugs and/or alcohol. There is nothing allowed in the house-- not guests, not alcohol, not anything. One infraction and you're out. No more second chances. This was a good thing for him, because, as he told me once on the phone before going into this house, he still thought about drinking again... even after all he had already been through. So I couldn't help but think that this was the best for him. After I sent my Email to him telling him that I needed time away from him... no calls, no Emails, no IM's, no contact at all... I was finally allowed to move on with my life. I connected with a new group of friends, and rebuilt my foundations. Sure, there were rough days. I went through many "mix CD's" of songs that reminded me of him, or that allowed me to wallow in my misery. (One of these was even aptly titled "Songs to miss him by.") But my heart healed, and after a while, I could honestly say to myself that I was "over him." He made a few visits to the Chicago area within the next couple of years... mainly to see his family, but occasionally he would call and we would meet for dinner or coffee. As time went on, it got easier to do this... without any mixed emotions or hard feelings. I started to realize that I looked at him as a friend, not as a boyfriend. That made getting past the pain much easier. In July of 2003, I was scheduled to have surgery for my sleep apnea. The recovery would take two weeks, and was going to be painful and intense. The plan was for me to spend a week with my parents, then another week at home before returning to work. When I told him about my surgery, he offered to stay with me for the second week while I was at home. He had wanted to spend some time in Chicago and see his family, and he could do that while caring for me at the same time. I accepted. I thought it was nice of him to offer, and since he wasn't working anyway, he had the time to do this. As the date of my surgery approached, I called him to confirm the plans. He said he would be there on the Monday of my second week. He wished me luck and I said I'd see him then. The day of the surgery arrived... everything was a success. I stayed with my mom and dad and then returned home. And I waited. And waited. And he never showed up. I called his cell phone. There was no answer. I sent him an Email. There was no response. As the week drew to a close, I still had no idea where he was, or why he wasn't returning my calls. I was livid. If everything had been fine, that would have been one thing. But during that week, I had to rush to the emergency room because of bleeding, and had to call upon other friends to take me there and drive me home. If he had been there like he said he was going to be, this wouldn't have been a problem. I decided to let it go. Eventually, he would get in contact with me to let me know what happened. But I didn't forget that he let me down. There was no excuse for this kind of behavior. About a month later, I finally heard from him. He apologized for not being there. I asked him what happened. "Well, I have something to confess..." he started. "I'm listening." "Well... I was there. On Monday. I was in front of your apartment and everything." "Really... and why didn't you come in?" I asked. "Because I was high." "High?" I asked him. "As in on-drugs-high?" "Yes," he said. "I had been taking crystal meth, drinking, coke, whatever I could get my hands on." If I were in a hurricane, I would have been blown to the ground and covered with palm trees. I could not believe what I was hearing. "You mean to tell me that instead of helping me out, you went out and got shitfaced and stoned?" "Yes, that's right." "Can I ask you one question? What part of "If you don't stay sober, you are going to DIE" do you NOT understand?" He didn't have an answer to that. And I had nothing more to say to him, except that, once again, I didn't want to hear from him for a while. I was pissed off, disappointed in him, and hurt. And I wanted him to know it. But that wasn't the final straw. Not just yet. This was strike one. A few months later, he called me and said he was definitly moving back to Chicago. The job market in California was just not working for him, and he wanted to be back with his family. I asked him if this was such a good idea, considering what happened the last time he came back to Chicago. He said he was in a better place this time, and was mentally ready to start looking for jobs. I thought it over long and hard. He had really let me down the last time, and I reminded him of this. But I finally decided to give him one more chance. There was nothing left in terms of my feelings for him, but I still wanted him to succeed. I let him stay with me. He moved in just before Thanksgiving of 2003. He had driven here from California in the car he had bought while out there. (I have no idea where he got the money, and I didn't ask.) The plan was for him to make a few trips between here and California to bring things back. I told him that was fine, but he had to store the majority of his things at either his mom's or his brother's... not with me. I couldn't be responsible for his things should he disappear again. It was during this stay that I found out that he had dated someone else while living in California. Needless to say, that stung. While I was left here to pick up the pieces of my life while he rebuilt his, he found someone else to cling onto fall for. Worse yet, he would occasionally talk to this guy in the living room while I was in the other room and I could hear him say things that he once said to me. That hurt even more. I began to resent him, and nearly kicked him out. But he didn't stay for very long. In fact, he stayed with me until just before Christmas, then he left on a train for California to visit and pick up some things. After a week, I got an Email from him saying that he was in San Francisico. (He had been living in LA, so what he was doing in San Francisco I had no idea.) He said that he liked it there and was going to try to find a job there. (At this point, I was starting to laugh at his delusional ideas. San Francisico? He can't afford to live in Hicksville, USA, how could he live in San Francisco?) So I said "Fine, just please let me know if you are not coming back, so I know. And send someone to get your stuff." Of course, this never happened. Three months passed before I heard from him again. During that time, I was getting phone calls and letters delivered to my house. The letters were probably debt collectors looking for him, and the calls were from friends and family wondering where he was. I could only say that I didn't know. He had also left his car with me. So not only did I have to move my car when street cleaning started, but I also was moving his. Why I just didn't let the thing collect tickets and get booted and towed, I don't know... but I'm just too damn nice I guess. Of course, as it turned out, he had relapsed yet again and went back in for treatment. His ex in California called me and gave me the story. Eventually he came back to retrieve his things and his car... but at that time I was actually dating someone (who himself turned out to be an asshole, but that's another story for another post.) He told me he would stop by to pick up his things, but I made sure I was at the other guy's place when he showed up. In hindsight, that was probably not the smartest idea. I had no idea if he would take anything. I couldn't trust him. But I didn't want to see him. I was too angry. So I chose to be elsewhere. Of course he didn't take anything, but after that, I didn't see nor hear from him for nearly 8 months. That was strike two. The last straw started last year. In about July of 04, he told me that he was completely done with California, and was going to move back home with his mom. He needed to get out of the 'big cities' and get back to basics. Plus his mom needed help around the house, and he wanted to rebuild his relationship with her. Meanwhile he was going to look for a job in Chicago. I thought that was admirable. So he moved back and for a few months I didn't hear from him at all, save for an occasional IM on AOL. Then one day in October, he wrote and said he had accepted a temporary position with a company on the south side of Chicago. The position would possibly turn full-time if everything went fine. He was going to start the following Monday. Of course, he needed a place to stay until he got settled. And once again, I told him that I had reservations, but I would let him do it. He offered to pay me $200 a week. I agreed to that. But I told him... "If you slip up... just once... you are out. I don't care what it is. This is your last chance. I won't put up with it again." He agreed, and he moved in that weekend. For the first couple of months, everything was OK. He went to work, came home, went to meetings a few times a week, and that was it. It was actually kind of nice. We'd talk, watch TV, and he'd sleep on the sofa. It was like having a temporary roommate, which is what I called it. Then he started breaking out in rashes from some of the medications he was taking (for various things, from liver meds to his bipolar meds.) The rashes were horrible. I felt bad for him, but he still went to work every day and worked through it. But one week in January 2005, he came down with a terrible inner ear infection. He couldn't get himself up off the sofa without falling down because he was so dizzy. He missed a week of work. And they didn't like that very much, so they let him go. So now we were back to where we were a year ago.. him looking for a job and staying in my house all day long. He had a few interviews, but nothing panned out. So in mid-February he decided to stay with his mom for a while. He packed up most of his things, leaving two bags in my front closet, and took a train to his mom's house in downstate Illinois. For the first two weeks, I heard from him fairly regularly. He had taken a job in a factory to help make some money, but was also sending resumes. The last time I heard from him was in late February. He sent an IM saying he was doing alright and he would try to get back to pick up the last of his things. Two weeks ago, I got a phone call from his ex in California saying that he had called the ex's phone, but it was disconnected. He called his mom, and she said that he was in Chicago again. I told him that I hadn't seen him, and he wasn't staying with me. Then I got a phone call from a company looking for him. Same story-- they tried to call his phone but it was disconnected. He had listed my number as a second number, so they were looking for him here. They were looking to interview him. I told them I didn't know where he was. Then I went into the closet. I saw his bags sitting on my closet floor. Full of his clothes and other personal effects. And I had reached my limit. Strike Three. The last straw. I went to my computer and wrote the following letter.

(Ex's Name) I haven't heard from you in well over a month. Where are you? I sent you an Email last week because I was getting calls from (Your Ex) and from prospective jobs for you at my apartment. They are not able to reach you anywhere, saying your cell phone is disconnected. (Your Ex) even called your mom and she apparently told him that you were in Chicago. I have told all of these people that I have not seen you since mid February. I am also getting mail here for you that is addressed to you c/o me. You have things here at my place. If I don't hear from you soon, I am going to give them away. I'm tired, (Ex). I am tired of being patient with you, and tired of wanting you to succeed, only to fall. I am no longer your boyfriend, but I have to tell you that it's time for me to let go of you once and for all. I've felt that this was my 'duty' of sorts, after all you have been through, but I have my own life to worry about, and to keep on track. It's hard enough as it is. I have plenty of issues to deal with myself-- from money to sex ... to relationships with family, friends and work. I will always care about you, (Ex), and I will always want the best for you. But I cannot be taken advantage of, on any level, any further. I have my own life to live and I need to live it without the fear that my ex is drinking again or doing drugs somewhere or, worse yet, dead. I was becoming dependent on you for money just as you were becoming dependent on me for shelter. I don't know what you were really doing while I was away at work, and frankly I don't want to know, because I want to believe that you were honestly looking for work and trying to do what you needed to do to succeed. But your track record speaks for itself, and I have to suspect that you have once again failed yourself. I can not and will not be co-dependent on you as you are co-dependent on me. It will not happen any longer. I will hold on to your things until I hear from you. I am giving you two weeks to respond. You may call or write, but a solution must be reached. If I do not hear from you after two weeks, I am giving your things to Howard Brown. If you wish to have someone pick them up, please make those arrangements and let me know when to expect someone to get them. I do not want money for storing them. I just want them out of my home. I'm sorry it has come to this, (Ex). I just can't do it anymore. Sincerely, Rick

And that is where things stand. I have not heard back from him yet. I sent the letter to him on March 16. He has one more week. And on Thursday, March 31, if he has not responded to me, I am giving those things away. He still has keys to my apartment, so I will have to get locks changed. I'm sure my landlord will appreciate that, but that's how it has to be. I will no longer tolerate being taken advantage of. I can't deal with the co-dependency anymore. I will no longer be an enabler. I have my own life to live, and my own issues to deal with. And damn it, I want to have a meaningful relationship again... before I turn forty at the very least! I can't play along with these crazy patterns anymore. So that is my story. And that's why I felt compelled to post about it. It's been a major source of stress in my life for the last five years. And in one week, I will be finished with it once and for all. Thanks for reading. Starting tomorrow, it's back to my usual ramblings about cats, chorus, boys and other useless drivel. :)