With every vintage store closure and new condo construction, it becomes clearer to me that the city that grew this feminist, vegetarian, tree-hugger has changed and isn't going back. I face the question, "Even if I were in love and planning on starting a family, would I want to do this in Seattle?" For the first time in my life, I feel like an outsider in my hometown.
So I look to the north and the south, specifically Alaska and Portland, as locations where I might feel more at peace. I need mountains and independent coffee shops to sustain me- the rest is negotiable.
Which is why, this past weekend, I planned a trip to Portland to see if it's a city I could live in. And coincidentally, who else should live in Oregon? Crazy Chinatown Man.
See blog posts September 14 through October 9 for those who don't remember how this charming, intermittently psychotic man broke through my tough exterior and caused my biggest nervous breakdown with dating in the previous four years. It was such a meltdown that I worried about contacting him to let him know I'd be in his area for the weekend. I wanted to see him, but reaching out put myself on the line. Would he respond? If he didn't (or did), would I be setting myself up for emotional turmoil?
When I sent a text to let him know I'd be in town, he seemed happy. We made tentative plans to hang out, which he cancelled abruptly about an hour before I arrived in Portland.
"Sorry, had a huge blowout with my dad, packed shit up and roaming around figuring out whether to go to Eugene, LA, or wherever right now... I probably can't hang given my current state of affairs. Sorry."
The truth is, I'd kind of expected this. Advanced planning is not his strong suit, and if there were a medal for impulsive decisions, he would win. I had made plans to stay in Portland over a month prior regardless of whether or not I saw him, but I wasn't going down without a fight.
"I don't like that answer, try again? I will be in Portland in 1 hour and have Xanax."
One hour passed.
"When you in town?"
If you are in Portland and you are hanging out with Crazy Chinatown Man, THE ONLY acceptable plan for the evening is to go to a strip club. At 6:30 pm. With his best friend who wants to discuss feminist theory AND how he wants a submissive life-partner to participate in consensual bondage and servitude. Did I ever think I would be on a date at a strip club with a man and his friend? Nope, but did I ever think I would be single for four years?
From 6:30 pm until 1 am there were drinks, conversations with naked women named Eros and Bella, pole dances under red mood lighting, and many, many dollar bills thrown onto the stage. We were feeling lovey- and not just because gorgeous breasts and buttocks were being thrown in our faces. We both liked each other and clearly enjoyed the other's company. I could have a great time with him, I thought, not only at a strip club but also in a shopping mall or grocery store. The setting helped the mood, but it was our companionship that drove the energy.
We switched clubs and his friend took off, so we stepped outside to smoke a cigarette.
"We should have a kid together," he said.
"I have an IUD, so that would be hard."
"I don't mean tonight but at some point. I think it would be nice."
I smiled and thought it would be nice too, so we discussed it further.
"If it's a girl I get to name it," I said. "I've had my girl name picked out for years."
"Okay," he agreed, "but I get to name a boy."
"What name would you choose?"
"James."
I had no strong objection. So far, so good.
"I could live in Portland," I volunteered. "Or Eugene. There's a clinic in Eugene I'd like to work at."
His face lit up when I mentioned his hometown. "I'd live in Eugene for you!"
This discussion was going so well!!!
"You're just saying this because you're drunk," I worried. "You're not going to think this tomorrow."
"No, I will want this tomorrow too. You can ask me again when I'm sober and I'll say the same thing."
Crazy Chinatown Man is unemployed (again), technically homeless and moving in with his mom (again), addicted to painkillers but planning on quitting (again), and forty years old. But he's also sweet and caring and tries really, really hard to be a decent person. He wouldn't be the most organized father, but he would be a loving and devoted one. And in the event that a legal partnership split up- as half of them do- I believe he would be a respectful co-parent. Most importantly, he is FUN, and when I think about the reality of having a screaming child with an ear infection who keeps me up all night before I have to go into work and deal with other people's screaming children with ear infections, I realize that I'm going to need a partner who will be cool with hiring a babysitter so we can get drunk and go to a strip club together.
So I'm pretty sure nothing could go wrong in this situation because how else should a child be brought into the world, if not starting with a discussion between a man and a woman outside a strip club at 1 am? That, my friends, would be a very loved baby.
"What's your last name again?"
So I look to the north and the south, specifically Alaska and Portland, as locations where I might feel more at peace. I need mountains and independent coffee shops to sustain me- the rest is negotiable.
Which is why, this past weekend, I planned a trip to Portland to see if it's a city I could live in. And coincidentally, who else should live in Oregon? Crazy Chinatown Man.
See blog posts September 14 through October 9 for those who don't remember how this charming, intermittently psychotic man broke through my tough exterior and caused my biggest nervous breakdown with dating in the previous four years. It was such a meltdown that I worried about contacting him to let him know I'd be in his area for the weekend. I wanted to see him, but reaching out put myself on the line. Would he respond? If he didn't (or did), would I be setting myself up for emotional turmoil?
When I sent a text to let him know I'd be in town, he seemed happy. We made tentative plans to hang out, which he cancelled abruptly about an hour before I arrived in Portland.
"Sorry, had a huge blowout with my dad, packed shit up and roaming around figuring out whether to go to Eugene, LA, or wherever right now... I probably can't hang given my current state of affairs. Sorry."
The truth is, I'd kind of expected this. Advanced planning is not his strong suit, and if there were a medal for impulsive decisions, he would win. I had made plans to stay in Portland over a month prior regardless of whether or not I saw him, but I wasn't going down without a fight.
"I don't like that answer, try again? I will be in Portland in 1 hour and have Xanax."
One hour passed.
"When you in town?"
If you are in Portland and you are hanging out with Crazy Chinatown Man, THE ONLY acceptable plan for the evening is to go to a strip club. At 6:30 pm. With his best friend who wants to discuss feminist theory AND how he wants a submissive life-partner to participate in consensual bondage and servitude. Did I ever think I would be on a date at a strip club with a man and his friend? Nope, but did I ever think I would be single for four years?
From 6:30 pm until 1 am there were drinks, conversations with naked women named Eros and Bella, pole dances under red mood lighting, and many, many dollar bills thrown onto the stage. We were feeling lovey- and not just because gorgeous breasts and buttocks were being thrown in our faces. We both liked each other and clearly enjoyed the other's company. I could have a great time with him, I thought, not only at a strip club but also in a shopping mall or grocery store. The setting helped the mood, but it was our companionship that drove the energy.
We switched clubs and his friend took off, so we stepped outside to smoke a cigarette.
"We should have a kid together," he said.
"I have an IUD, so that would be hard."
"I don't mean tonight but at some point. I think it would be nice."
I smiled and thought it would be nice too, so we discussed it further.
"If it's a girl I get to name it," I said. "I've had my girl name picked out for years."
"Okay," he agreed, "but I get to name a boy."
"What name would you choose?"
"James."
I had no strong objection. So far, so good.
"I could live in Portland," I volunteered. "Or Eugene. There's a clinic in Eugene I'd like to work at."
His face lit up when I mentioned his hometown. "I'd live in Eugene for you!"
This discussion was going so well!!!
"You're just saying this because you're drunk," I worried. "You're not going to think this tomorrow."
"No, I will want this tomorrow too. You can ask me again when I'm sober and I'll say the same thing."
Crazy Chinatown Man is unemployed (again), technically homeless and moving in with his mom (again), addicted to painkillers but planning on quitting (again), and forty years old. But he's also sweet and caring and tries really, really hard to be a decent person. He wouldn't be the most organized father, but he would be a loving and devoted one. And in the event that a legal partnership split up- as half of them do- I believe he would be a respectful co-parent. Most importantly, he is FUN, and when I think about the reality of having a screaming child with an ear infection who keeps me up all night before I have to go into work and deal with other people's screaming children with ear infections, I realize that I'm going to need a partner who will be cool with hiring a babysitter so we can get drunk and go to a strip club together.
So I'm pretty sure nothing could go wrong in this situation because how else should a child be brought into the world, if not starting with a discussion between a man and a woman outside a strip club at 1 am? That, my friends, would be a very loved baby.
"What's your last name again?"
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