two boys

So my regular Wednesday night date with Ira was fabulous. Such a good episode. It was all one story, about a wrongly convicted man whose best friend worked for 20 years to secure his release from prison. It was heartbreaking & beautiful & the main characters all had beautiful caribbean accents. I find love stories about friendship (this one, The Shawshank Redemption, etc.) so much more compelling than romantic love stories. I mean, it's cliche at this point for people to go to the ends of the earth for their one true love. It's much more interesting when people do that for their friends, when there isn't an implicit emotional or legal obligation or promise of sex tied up in it all. And the story ended with a lawyer saying that if it all had taken place in a state that regularly excutes people our wrongly-convicted hero would have been dead long before his best friend figured out how the legal system works. . . why do we still have the death penalty?

After my date, W appeared at my house. He came to get the backpack that he left behind after the weeks-ago party. W and E chatted in the dining room as I wandered in and out, finally retreating to my room to sleep. And it was fine. I have spent much of the past week or so doing the mental and emotional work necessary to detach myself from that boy and what happened between us. I think I succeeded, which feels good. I don't feel compelled to yell at him, to be his new best friend, or anything in between. He's an acquaintance, one I have a history with, but one I don't expend an inordinate amount of energy on anymore. . . hooray!

so now I'm all Ira's. . .