pantoum's Diaryland Diary

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ISOLATO, WHY DON'T YOU COME TO YOUR SENSES?

My dear friend Musicgrrl and her former partner Coolio decided their relationship was over this past October, but still live in Musicgrrl's house (because Coolio can't afford to move out until her new business takes off).

So mutual pals Operagrrl and BeeBee invited me to dinner last night and immediately started grilling me about this arrangement: What do I know about their relationship status? Are they sleeping in the same bed? What is the timeline for Coolio's departure? Why is she still there? Haven't I been able to talk with Musicgrrl about that?

I love Musicgrrl dearly and shared with her my concern about her ability to move on with Coolio in the house. (And yeah, I know a thing or two about how difficult it can be to move on from a long-term relationship when you have no closure.)

I also told her that I know firsthand what a caring person she is and so worry that she will wind up caring for Coolio to her own detriment if she remains in the house (a familiar pattern in their relationship and one that Musicgrrl and I have talked about at great length).

Musicgrrl said she appreciates my concern, but that this arrangement feels right to her at this juncture—and, you know, that is all I need to know about the situation until or unless one of them wants to talk about the details with me.

My concern is whether or not they are okay and taking care of themselves—and I did not appreciate the dinner grilling, even though I know they were doing this out of concern for Musicgrrl.

I had a similar conversation with two other pals this past weekend, and walked away with a completely different reaction. These pals weren't being so goddamn judgmental though and seemed genuinely concerned for both women. And this conversation never felt like gossiping.

And now I must supply background information in order to complete my story.

So there's this therapy-wanking, self-realization, leadership-building organization called The Forum that has always struck me as a cult, and, some years ago, a number of chorus women joined it.

(Some of the reasons I define this group as a cult is that the organization controls when initiants pee and when they eat and will not allow them to leave the meeting until they sign a piece of paper identifying who they will bring to the next expensive cult meeting.)

Some friends who had, unbeknownst to us, joined the cult invited Tree and me to dinner long ago and we realized very quickly that they had listed us as their newest recruits.

Lawzie this is gonna be a long evening, Tree whispered to me as I considered our options for heading off the pressure at the pass.

Our midwestern hosts did not know us all that well, but did know that I was raised in South Carolina. And I knew their opinions about the South. So I decided to play the redneck card, which startled Tree until she realized what I was doing and how incredibly effective this approach was.

"You know," said I, "I just HATE that kind of shit"— which shut them up immediately.

I tried a similar approach with BeeBee and Operagrrl, said You know, Musicgrrl and Coolio have connections people looking in know nothing about, so who are we to judge their decisions? Relationships reach their natural conclusions all the time and it sucks all the way around and the situation is hard and painful for the couple and their friends alike, and what these women need right now is support from us for whatever decisions they make.

I also said my approach is to try to be supportive of both women while recognizing that there are no rights or wrongs . . . and I am certain that Musicgrrl and Coolio would appreciate it if they would try a similar approach.

In retrospect, I should have taken the redneck approach again, because what I said did not satisfy BeeBee, as I learned a few minutes ago when Coolio called to say she just endured a three-hour grilling that felt as if Katie Couric, Barbara Walters, AND Connie Chung had moved in for the kill.

BeeBee apparently took Coolio to dinner for the express purpose of probing her. (And BTW what was that movie in which the actor kept repeating "I didn't want the ANAL probe," "I didn't WANT the anal PROBE," or whatever, emphasizing different words each time? ... and what a weird thing to pop into my head just now. )

Anyway, Coolio said "it's not quite as strong an urge as the urge to spawn, but I REALLY have a very strong need to see you, Bird."

Spawning. That girl has got a way with words. And yeah, this is the same woman who recently said she feels as if she's hanging from a tree branch that is positioned where everyone can walk under her and look at her butt crack and slap her on the ass as they stroll by.