Walls Come Tumbling Down

According to The Man's travel itinerary, he's landed in Dubai and will spend the day there. If he hooks up with his cousin, they will have dinner together. Then he resumes his return home in the morning, local time.

The last couple of communications we've had felt somewhat strained. He says he's eager to come home, though he doesn't like where our home is. He's never been fond of our street nor of our immediate neighoburs. In the nine months away, he's developed a network of friends and support, picked up a new language, and experienced a new culture. I feel sad this time for him has come to an ended, that he's leaving his network of friends and associates.

He said he just wants to slip back into the city quietly, resume life as if he never left. But I wonder if he will be more cantankerous to live with, now that he will no longer circulate among an elite society of ex-pats and diplomats. Already, he's finding fault with whether I am "eager" or "anxious" for him to come home. How can I not be both?

To allay my anxiety and hone my eagerness, I attended an opening last night of gay art. I mingled with creative men and looked at pictures of pretty boys and penises. One of the artists did pastels of close up objects in brilliant colours. Those colours certainly captured my mood. Another artist did black and white photographs of beautifully juxtaposed subjects with that David Hamiltonish sensuality. That too captured my mood. A third did flatware art - sculptures made of forks, knives and spoons welded together so that from afar, the pieces of flatware look like sinewy muscles. The rawness of the male figures also spoke to my mood.

I am all ajitters. I am sure my anxiey will pass when I put my house back in order. It gets messier while you're cleaning it. In fact, it will be a mad dash around today because I managed to arrange a couch delivery for the afternoon, and The Boy wants to go see a movie in the afternoon and either to Wonderland or his teacher's farewell party in the evening. I've said no to the movie. I want him to help me clean up the house, at least his room and the basement where's he's been ensconced for three months.

We'll all need to get used to being with each other again. I get to resume my role as the bad guy, the disciplinarian, where The Boy is concerned. Good thing The Man and I made a pact not to divorce within the first month of him being home.