It was a terrific week. I mean "terrific" in the H. P. Lovecraft/King James Bible sense of "Now that I have witnessed things no man was meant to see, can I have my sanity back, please?"

First of all, I closed out the bar five nights out of the last seven due to R. R., as avid walkers of the seastreet may recall, is the woman I mentioned a couple entries ago who has a daughter and works for a pharm. company.

We went out and saw Sky Captain on Saturday night (due to an entry of %%diary-odalisk%%'s, who saw far more in it than I ever could- a credit to her keen aesthetics if not the movie itself,) met Sunday night for a birthday party for K. (my friend with cancer- being the only person in the room who knows about a birthday celebrator's terminal illness will make you uneasy like nothing else, and what felt to others like conviviality felt to me, I am sorry to say, like a wake held with an open coffin in the room.) We went back to my pigsty, and screwed*. My first thought Monday morning after an hours' sleep was of what a stud I am for having slept with a married woman and my second was of what a total, utter ass I am.

I have now put myself in the unpleasant position of really liking someone who's hesitant to get a divorce, despite loathing her husband and living in the opposite end of the house from him, due to legalities. She says she's just scared. What that tells me is that she's looking for a way out; she doesn't want to divorce this guy until she knows she can tumble safely into the arms of someone new.

She used the l-word at me. That's enough pressure right there (is it terrible, that I can only look at love in terms of its demands?) without even considering the treacherous tightrope walking that I imagine would go with catching a married woman on the rebound.

So ever since I dropped her off at her friend's house on Friday morning- to get her to my truck I had to literally carry her over my collapsed carport; my property is now waterfront whether I like it or not- I've been agitated, deeply so; I've talked to her since then and while I played my cards as closely to my chest as I always do, it was good to remember that whatever happens I adore R., and I'm pretty sure she'd understand if I wanted (both of us) to sort things out before going any farther.

On the other hand, you can sometimes go wrong betting on the rationality of les amants.

I will not solicit advice but will not refuse it either.

*or made sweet sweet love. Or had sex. Or played hide-the-sausage. Pick your preferred term here; I'm not fussy, and "screwed" was handy.