So Jen and I made this wilderness adventure last weekend, with my knee wrapped up in a pound of gauze, and went to where McCandless had good times.
It's the kind of "crazy drive several hundred miles across the state" thing that Crackie would do.
Speaking of him, he's back in town from California for the summer and fall, and he wrote me a long email this week. Like always, my heart-strings get pulled. When he's neutral or in his bi-polar upswing, he's more fun than bungee jumping.
He wants to come up and see me, his twice-a-year-thing. Seeing me, means a very intense, three to four day and night date, where we do what some couples take months to do: we go thrifting, ghost town seeing, stay up late and talk, watch documentaries, have deep talks about life then not see each other for almost a year. Inevitably, we accidentally brush into each other in my small hallway or our toes accidentally touch while we're on the couch, and the sparks fly. Only, nothing ever happens. He spends the night on my extra bed in the basement. EVEN though it's clear we are crazy about each other, and have been since 2011. Why does nothing happen? This is partly because he has depression, but mostly because he's emotionally unavailable, meaning terrified to get hurt again. Well, join the club, Crackie.
I wonder what will happen this time? If I were ballsy enough, I'd just post his picture, the last time we were together last February. With a little taunting, I might just do that.
UPDATES:
1. I had a phone date with Green Eyes. And get this, he's pretty nice, and while he doesn't have a masculine voice, he doesn't sound like Diana Ross; we're going to try and hang out this weekend. Yes! I hope he's not a midget.
2. Indifferent Dude has offered to pick me up tonight and take me to happy hour. Let's see if he picks up the tab!
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