I’ll lift you back up, gays!

In the big picture, there was nothing sad about last night’s election results – we elected Barack Obama as our next president. Enough said. Bring on the change.

And yet, in a country where we can overcome eight years of hell and embarrassment – thank god my pledge of ignorance is coming to an end – we’ve suddenly taken a huge step back. I was fearful I had to be ashamed of being an American, but for sure I’m ashamed to be one in the state of California. I’ve always known there were pockets of scary here, but I never really associated them with my neighbors, or people I work with, or the people I went to school with. In my mind, because I had gravitated toward the liberal, I naively assumed the rest of the state was behind me too.

Last night’s feeling of “the rest of them finally get it” turned into sadness as the California results trickled in: Animal rights, yes. Abortion rights, yes. Same-sex marriage, no. What. The. Fuck.

I went to sleep with 62% of the precincts reporting on Prop 8, hoping they had just left out the good ones and woke up at 5 am nervous, and then 10 am disappointed. I was hoping to use this picture as an unusual sign of celebration on this site to rejoice about all the upcoming gay weddings I would attend with open bar and copious boys to fulfill my dream of being lifted by a group of gays.

Lifted by a gay on July 4th

Instead, with sadness, I will have to use this picture to encourage people to come lift me at MY future wedding, which is rude. Or, I can promise to do more next time to help lift up my gays, if not for equal rights for everybody, then for my growing obsession of being gloriously lifted. I mean, look at that picture, look at how happy I am. And fuck you, 52%, for denying my right to lifted by gays, single or married (but preferably married because the more gays to lift, the better).

The dog who chipped my tooth died

My mom just told me Skipper, a family friend’s dog, died and I’m sitting at my desk kind of tearing up because dogs are assholes like that. Skipper was a fox hound or terrier of sorts, very active, very ready to go. I was playing with him in high school and he was so cute that I wrapped my arms around his neck for a hug. He flipped out, barked, and slammed his head so hard into my chin that the impact left bits of powdered tooth on my tongue. I remember thinking if it stunned me, he must have been in more pain, as I only had one chin back then and it was pointy. The chip was small enough for a Taiwanese dentist to laugh at me for wanting to get it fixed (it would have been free) and big enough for an L.A. dentist to suggest getting it fixed (and whitened). By nature he was a hunting dog, so who could blame him for going into attack mode when a gangly Chinese robotically tried to show him “love”? We knew the end was near but what kills me is one of the brothers was unable to make it home in time to say goodbye. Le sigh. RIP Skipper the tooth chipper. :(

SMRT

Sigh.

Another relationship down the toilet.

And why?  Did I display an appalling act of drunkenness that sent my mature, older boyfriend running for the hills?  Did I cheat with an 18 year old?  Did I go on and on and on about how awesome New York City is and how I am trying to move there as soon as possible causing him to bash me over the head out of complete boredom for a topic I have talked about non-stop for years?

All of these things are possible and well within the scope of things I have done in past relationships.  And yet this time I did none of them.

No.  Instead, I received the following email after not hearing from my boyfriend for a week by way of kiss-off:

Honestly -
You are likely the smartest person I’ve ever dated. At least, if there were smarter, it wasn’t apparent.

I learned true ambivalence each time we got deep into a subject; enthralled at being able to have such a discussion, scared that I would never be able to hold my own in it.

That’s the truth. And yes, it is my own ego causing this problem within me. But you deserve to know.

So apparently I am un-dateable because I am too smart.  If anyone would like to let me know where I can get a cheap lobotomy, come find me.  I’ll be the nerd in the corner discussing the merits of Boethian philosophy as applied to post-modern theory.  Or the person sticking an ice-pick up her nose.