7:23 a.m. - January 27, 2005
CM and I go out for lunch every Wednesday, alternating responsibility for choosing the restaurant and picking up the tab. It feels great to have made a good friend, someone with whom I feel comfortable enough to let the gayness shine through and not worry about what I said or how it may affect her perception of me. CM's a self-professed fag hag and we decided to make it official: CM is my fag hag. Truly, there is no going back now, eh? It was an experiment of sorts for me to comment on the guy seated across from us, or to blithely remark on an ex-boyfriend. That's what unconditional means, that foreign sensation that reminds me of those substances on the far right of the periodic table of the elements: Tasteless, odorless, without form yet when present, unmistakably here. A friend, I made a friend - how pathetic to take such joy in this development but I do, I do.
CM's husband, a man I haven't yet met, bought me two books he thinks I'd enjoy: The Sparrow and Children of God by Mary Russell. That is a definite never-happened-before that didn't make me uncomfortable; CM is positive we'll hit it off because we talk about the same things, share (arcane) interests in histories of the plague and linguistics, and both enjoy being with her. We're going to hang out next week when I get back to California.
Kindred spirits, that's the phrase I allocate to encounters like this, those connections that happen without effort or deliberation and just are. I'm wary of closeness and of friendship, but I love laughing with someone.
Seminar begins at 1:00. I'm going for a walk around the block, sans hat or gloves. Call me a risk taker or a fool, your pick.