November 4th, 1978
Chippy arrived shortly after John did (an a second curious encounter with the young man who said he had come back to the house to use our porch light to writer in his order book– he arrived at the door just as John did. Also, here is a street light just outside our driveway) and the three of us went to The Old Europe restaurant on Wisconsin Avenue. We had a pleasant dinner of German food and Rathskeller ambiance. A piano player droned in the background.
John showed up wearing tight stark white polyester pants, a bright red shirt and a navy blue pullover vest. His outfit was the sort of thing teenagers wore when I was in high school. I was embarrassed and depressed by his clothes. He had accessorized himself with a wide white leather band for his huge awkward watch.
Oh, God, the process has started. I have begun to not accept John.
I am avoiding verbalizing the simple fact: John, and the enormous amount of energy that I am spending in the relationship, are beginning to bore me.
I, as I chain smoke and drink beer in this chilly Saturday morning house, of course, wonder if this is to be the story of my life.
I suddenly remember Gene in Philadelphia and the passionate affair we had that just left me on day. I never quite remember how that ended.
I have to take Sadie to the vet in a little while to have her nails clipped– a project that I have neglected for weeks and which now has me worried because the last time I waited so long, the clipping hurt her badly and she peed on the table three times. Now, the bad parent, I seem to have waited too long again– no not nearly as long as before– and I pray that it doesn’t hurt her.