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The Life Electronic (and otherwise) of Young Geoffrey Dow - The Annals of Young Geoffrey: Hope brings a turtle [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Young Geoffrey

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The Life Electronic (and otherwise) of Young Geoffrey Dow [Apr. 26th, 2005|09:13 pm]
Young Geoffrey
[music |The Grateful Dead, live at Kingswood, 1984]

Cyberspace Vs Meatspace


Among the sometimes mutually-contradictory purposes I had when starting this journal was that it be a genuine journal - a record of my life, my thoughts, and my feelings, shared with those who cared to partake but written primarily for myself.

Like so much else in my life, things didn't work out as I had intended.



I made the mistake - if mistake it was - of talking about what was going on here with real-life friends and, eventually, of providing my username not only to Laura but to various friends and even members of my family as well. Whatever ideas I had of using livejournal to create a space at once private and public, but that would nevertheless not intersect my meat-life had gone the way . (Arguably, meeting missnegativity in person more than a year ago now was the pebble dislodged that led to the inevitable collapse of the dam of my impossible desire to have my privacy and share it too.)

Since I gave Laura my username way back when, I have more than once contemplated creating another journal on lj, or somewhere else - and using that space to be utterly free to say what I wanted without the social concerns of how my words might impact others.

In fact, since then, I have created another livejournal - possibly two of them. I've created accounts on greatestjournal.com, deadjournal, xanga, and even - in a moment of drunken optimism (that had only a very little to do with a desire to see pictures of naked ladies) - blew 30 bucks or so on a subscription to suicidegirls.com, to name a few I can think of off-hand.

I've never used any of them; the accounts sit like Schroedinger's Budda, contemplating precious server space doing me no good at all.

All of which is appropos of nothing in particular, but I felt like discussing it.


Jesus Christ! How Did That Happen?!?


I called my insurance company yesterday, to get Laura officially installed as my "partner" or "spouse" or "common-law wife" - though not yet Federal law, the terms are, according to Sunlife, interchangeable.

Much to my surprise, the call took maybe 2 minutes from punching in the first number to disconnect. 45 seconds to ring through and enter the extension, a minute and a quarter to explain my purpose, despite telling the agent that Laura was born on January 6, 2005. ("That would be illegal," quoth the agent. "And pretty close to impossible," I added before correcting my mistake. "January 6, 1987.")



It's been 3 weeks or so since Laura moved her stuff in, 2 weeks after she had been, de facto, staying here anyway.

She's due for a dental check-up and we both need to know she's covered in case anything terrible happens. She's in school and without a job, so financially dependent on me for the time being. (Not the ideal state of affairs for either of us, but we've agreed it makes sense she has the time to concentrate on school; June isn't that far away in any event.)

And so, here we are. Living together. Co-habiting. Married, for all intents and purposes. Next April, whether she is still with me or not, even Revenue Canada will say we're married. Common-law, yes, but I have declared she is my partner and I don't think there's any turning back.

Almost without noticing it, I am no longer single. I am a ... husband.

No ceremony, no party, but here we are ... living together, "as man (sic) and wife."

Maybe now I understand better the (near) universality of marriage as a rite. Even today, with little or no social sanction against the divorced, there is a significant difference between breaking up with one's girl (or boy) friend and leaving one's spouse.

Whether we like it or not, for all intents and purposes, we are married. I am married.

It's a very strange feeling.

And - though we've been involved for more than a year - and committed to monogamy for almost that long - the new situation feels almost as though it crept up on me by stealth, as though I suddenly awoke from a fugue to find myself in this novel situation.

Married. Coupled. Partnered.

Don't get the wrong idea. I don't mind. In fact, I am more than happy about this turn of events. I love Laura - without a hint of hyperbole, I can honestly say that each passing day only deepens the intensity with which I use that phrase. She makes me laugh, and think, and holding her and kissing her is like a mystic's encounter with the divine, like a daily prayer, answered.

But I digress.

Without ritual, our situation doesn't quite feel real. Or, perhaps more accurate, without ritual, it feels like something that happened to me, rather than something I sought out. Without ritual, commitment feels more tenuous as (I think) it otherwise might.

(I keep having the urge to call the members of my extended family to make the announcement: I. Am. Married.)

As I said, it is an odd feeling, though the facts themselves bring me only joy (and the concommitant anxiety that that joy might someday end. Among even the most likely couples, break-ups happen. Among even the most devoted lovers, the thrill of the new can lead to broken promises and broken hearts. Into even the deepest love boredom can descend, like a bank of clouds on a once-sunl-bright day.)

I have passed my 40th birthday. Laura has passed her 18th. Going by only those facts, it is natural that I fear she will change, that she will decide I am not, after all, what she was looking for.

Thank god there is more to life than chronology ...

Daunce, Daunce, In My Paunts


I don't dance and (mostly) never have. For those of you who wondered, the swing-dance lessons were an unmitigated disaster. We missed the second class and I at least never came close to catching up (I suspect Laura might have, had she not been saddled with me as a partner). By the fourth or fifth - in any case, the last - I found myself in the horrible situation of trying to practice what I had learned during the first session while studiously ignoring everything the instructor was teaching everyone else.

When we asked for a little attention, she told us, "I can't help you - I have 11 [yes: 11!] other people to teach." Nevertheless, she deigned to provide maybe 3 minutes of individual tutoring, while her assistant danced by herself in the center of the room.

Yes, I should have blown up right there and demanded my money back, but ... well, I didn't.

But we didn't go back the next week, nor any subsequent weeks. A pity. I'd still like to learn. But, since this past Saturday, not as much as I did before.



Laura, as an alumni of a bartending course she took during the winter found herself invited to a club on Adelaide.

Now, I don't do dance-clubs. I don't club, or go clubbing. I am a sit in one pub and quaff pitchers of the same beer while solving the world's problems kind of guy.

I had been "dancing" in years, probably more than a decade. And I place the word, dancing, in quotations, because on those rare occasions I venture into a land of booming bass and sweating, gyrating bodies, I almost never actually danced. Rather, I would hang out at the bar, watching the floor and wondering why some beautiful (or even not-so beautiful) woman didn't take my hand and lead me to a sensual nirvanna.

Well, Saturday was different. I was with someone - and with someone I wanted to impress.

Though I warned her I might revert to my normal behaviour, when we passed by the bouncers (Laura smug that she had - again - not been carded, and sexy as hell in short skirt and top that required constant attention not to be obscene, I steeled myself to try.

And within 5 minutes of the coat-check, she saw me grin, and returned it saying, in effect, "I'm so glad you're having a good time."

And I was. I won't take the music home, but it did its job. I was bouncing, and grinding, and the love of my life was in my arms and I wasn't making an ass of myself. We might have been a spectacle, but neither of us cared, and for 3 or so hours we sweated and writhed and celebrated in true Bachanalian style the pleasures of the flesh, the pleasures of sight and of sound and of touch. Pure, sensual joy, not sex but like sex, while being something else (almost) entirely.

Instead of abstract observations, I came away with nothing but the taste of my lover's mouth and the feel of her body pressed close to mine, three hours that might as well have been three days, of pure enjoyment.

I am a better man for it. Thank you, Laura.
linkReply

Comments:
[User Picture]From: queenofdemons
2005-04-27 02:16 am (UTC)

Ahh the Forbidden Dance...

How I love to dance. Many non-clubbers identify clubbing/raving/dancing etc with some sort of induced state of enjoyment when really and truly, you just have to feel the music. I'm thrilled you had such a positive sensuous experience dancing and what a true experience it was!

I've been challenged many times by guys saying "I cannot dance/won't see me on dance floor/excuse/excuse/blah". Once you bring sensuality into the mix, everyone's a born mover n shaker. It doesn't have to necessarily be sexual, but the art of sensuality paints a masterpiece using the natural flow of our bodies partnered with a primal beat and good goddess the effect is ...

well, you know.

score one (hundred) for Laura on getting you to enjoy it. Tis a personal goal of mine to bring enjoyment back to the clubbing and throw out the young attitude-ridden chicas (obvious exceptions to the rule Laura)

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[User Picture]From: ed_rex
2005-04-28 01:42 am (UTC)

Re: Ahh the Forbidden Dance...

How I love to dance.

All of a sudden, so do I. I fear, though, that I have been ruined for dancing with other women - unless I want to be slapped, soundly, upside the head.

score one (hundred) for Laura on getting you to enjoy it.

Laura has the amazing ability to make me enjoy all kinds of things I thought I was too old for/was never interested in.
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[User Picture]From: sabotabby
2005-04-27 02:22 am (UTC)
I hope it was an okay turning point. Or at least not a terrible one.

I, too, started off on Elljay with intentions of anonymity. (Except for annaotto, who gave me an invite code, but I met her over teh interwebs too.) Real life people kept finding me, though, and admittedly, I was curious to seek them out, especially as I discovered more and more people who had them and just didn't talk about it.

The dam's now broken, of course -- one person at work (albeit my friend from before) who often updates hers simultaneously with mine; my family knows I have a "blog," although they're unaware of the URL; at least four people I've slept with read it regularly. And hey, it's not hard to track down my phone number or address. I'd make an awful spy. It's become just another social circle -- one I like, but admittedly, I'm much more careful about what I write these days.

*

As to the you-and-Laura-being-commonlaw thing -- if you're not going to have a wedding, you ought to at least throw a big party or something. I can even make sangria.
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[User Picture]From: ed_rex
2005-04-28 01:52 am (UTC)
I hope it was an okay turning point. Or at least not a terrible one.

If by "turning point" you refer to our evening at Rhino's and, later, here, lo! these many moons ago, it was far more than okay. It irritates me that we haven't gotten it together to do it again.

It's become just another social circle -- one I like, but admittedly, I'm much more careful about what I write these days.

Yeah, I like it too, but it's definitely changed as it has become a social circle (though one that is still far more virtual than not). I just might use one of those other journals I've "created" one of these days - but I damned well won't tell anyone how to find it.

if you're not going to have a wedding, you ought to at least throw a big party or something. I can even make sangria.

We're definitely going to - but organizing such animals is neither our strong suits.
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[User Picture]From: offermeescape
2005-04-27 02:50 am (UTC)
Wow. This was an exciting story, sir. Oddly enough, at my young age of 24, I feel I've outgrown clubs - even the goth ones - completely. To hear that you went and actually enjoyed yourself.. with someone you love.. well, perhaps that is the key. People in clubs spend too much time looking for some form of love, whether it be sex or silly idealism.. and perhaps everyone..

should just take their wives.

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[User Picture]From: ed_rex
2005-04-28 01:54 am (UTC)
To hear that you went and actually enjoyed yourself.. with someone you love.. well, perhaps that is the key.

For me it is. I don't think I can even imagine the changes it would be necessary for me to go through to become comfortable "asking" someone to dance by creeping up behind her and begining to grind.
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[User Picture]From: fadefromnothing
2005-04-27 02:52 am (UTC)

I have passed my 40th birthday. Laura has passed her 18th. Going by only those facts, it is natural that I fear she will change, that she will decide I am not, after all, what she was looking for.

Thank god there is more to life than chronology ...


There isn't a day that goes by where I don't end up thinking the same thing about my boy.

Congratulations, by the way. You two are beautiful together, and in case there's a celebration (and there should be, by all means), I'll be more than happy to attend.
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[User Picture]From: ed_rex
2005-04-28 01:59 am (UTC)
There isn't a day that goes by where I don't end up thinking the same thing about my boy.

It's a marvellous feeling, isn't it, no matter how vulnerable it makes you. (And it does leave you vulnerable; but if you can manage to maintain your sense of self, even if things someday fall apart, you'll look back with the sense that it was all worth the heartbreak.

Oi. Some fucking romantic I am, eh?

(We really will have a celebration - guessing realistically, I'd say mid-June, after exams.)
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[User Picture]From: pbprincess
2005-04-27 06:57 pm (UTC)
I'm glad you've found the love of dancing. You'll figure out even with Swing, it doesn't really matter what you look like since if you look like you're having fun, you're never really making a fool of yourself. Good on ye.
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[User Picture]From: ed_rex
2005-04-28 02:01 am (UTC)
Having a partner you are really into makes it very easy indeed to (mostly) forget about what you might look like to the theoretical stranger hanging around and judging the dancers.
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[User Picture]From: pbprincess
2005-04-28 05:59 pm (UTC)
Lots of alcohol can also do this, but eventually one hopes the dancing is enough by itself.
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From: venividivici3
2005-04-27 09:15 pm (UTC)

**Blushes**

I'll admit, I got a little giddy reading the common law/wife/spouse/partner etc etc. line. It keeps hitting me, over and over. I totally agree on the feeling that it krept up on us like that. We said our vows to an insurance agency..."Can she get on my drug plan?"

Although, at the same time, Geoffrey you're a very smooth boy...adding that

I love Laura - without a hint of hyperbole, I can honestly say that each passing day only deepens the intensity with which I use that phrase. She makes me laugh, and think, and holding her and kissing her is like a mystic's encounter with the divine, like a daily prayer, answered.

Shit, someone knows how to make a girl feel loved :)

Geoffrey and I have every intention of throwing a party of sorts. First, I'd like to paint the appartment and make it look...erm...a little more customized to myself and Geoffrey...who is a lazy...lazy...boy.

As for our clubbing experience... I really was extatic that I, Laura, got Geoffrey to enjoy himself at a trendy dance club!

...And they said it couldn't be done :P

Love you dearest,

-Laura

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[User Picture]From: ed_rex
2005-04-28 02:06 am (UTC)

Re: **Blushes**

It keeps hitting me, over and over. I totally agree on the feeling that it krept up on us like that. We said our vows to an insurance agency..."Can she get on my drug plan?"

Welcome to the 21st century, my love.

But seriously, I felt it when you told me you'd made up your mind to stay past the end of June - I would have shed a tear (of joy) if I hadn't known for a fact that you'd mock me to the ends of the Earth.
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From: vernski
2005-04-28 05:43 am (UTC)

Re: **Blushes**

Don't be so easily swayed Laura. He said virtually the same thing to me back in the sumpity sumpin eighties,: you know, that: "like a mystic's encounter with the divine" routine. He showered me with that line for a decade and a half. There were so many "like a mystic's encounter with the divine"s falling on me - day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year (and that is how we measure time), that it seems like twenty ought some and a half years have been forty five.

Honestly. I was plumb near worn out by the flattery. I'd give him a heap of pancakes and a thimble full of maple syrup - he'd light incense and say 7 prayers under his breath very fast 64 times. It was like I'd just elected him pope.

Which is soon what he wished to be called - Pope. Pope Gee Fry the 1st. Pope Gee Fry the 1st, and soon to be - Gee Pope One. Which eventually became, behind his back: "Gee Poop E" simply by moving a couple of letters around. It was really quite shameful how the tabloid articles I would both write *and* magnet onto the fridge, invariably began their slanderous editorial headlines with some kind of spurious nyaa nyaa nyaa scatalogical joke upon his newly chosen (amongst the many of me) nick-name of Gee Pope One, or even shorter: Mr. Poop E.

And then (now) he realized that the marijuana was affecting him.




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[User Picture]From: ed_rex
2005-04-28 12:06 pm (UTC)

Re: **Blushes**

Oh honey, you're still divine to me. Your pointy nose and tiny feet; your whisps of silver hair; your ability to twist all that is fine and good into in this world to your own, evil ends; your soft, lisping voice; and that cute thing you do with you paws. All this, and more, has left its mark upon my once-tender soul and the reminder leaves me gasping for precious breath.

(You busy Friday?)
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