Free as a bird-brain

It's a beautiful, still Fall evening.

It'd be beautiful if it was minus thirty though. And snowing. It'd beautiful because this is the first time in months that I have been able to settle onto the porch, laptop at the ready, joint pre-rolled, Guinness poured and settled, without fearing interference.

That's right, the stalker has gone. Not for the week but forever. And the likelihood of him dropping by anytime soon to eat me out of house and home or attempt some kind of homoerotic manoeuvre? Zero. Because he's moved back to Alberta, which I'm reliably informed takes a few days to get to by bus.

He left around 11.30 last night, and many of you reading this will already know from the emphatic text message I broadcasted as soon as his taxi disappeared from view. I was so happy, I actually did the jig of joy on the driveway, safely between the houses and out of sight from the road. I smiled, I grinned, I laughed out loud. I may have whooped. I think there was whooping, albeit brief.

I got all my stuff back from him too. I now, once again, own a tennis racquet, a frisbee, some DVDs, and - I think - the same quantity of crockery I left my ex's place with. And on top of all that I inherited his PS2.

I must be a nice chap after all.

I was a little disappointed that I couldn't make that conversation happen last night. Y'know, the one in which I'm supposed to attempt the impossible, and try to tell him I think he has abandonement issues, but with tact.

But y'know what? He enjoyed the relationship as I did for most of it, so what does it matter what happens on the last day of it? I have to ignore the demons telling me I'm somehow responsible for him. And I swear he did nearly make a move on me last night so I think I've dealt with more than my fair share of him.

Nearly a lot more than my fair share. Brrrr.....

"And that's all I have to say about that," as my couturier, Forrest Gump would say.