So, I guess I have to do this one in a blog post, seeing as the hubby in question has a wife who reads, filters, and discards emails in *his* box she doesn't want him to read. But for his sake, because he's a sweet and dear man who deserves to know it's (for once) Not his Fault:

Goodbye, Dear Friend. It was nice knowing you. Thank you for being there for me when it mattered, so long ago. You are a Good Man, perhaps the greatest of str8 men I've ever known when it comes to your kids and compassion, and I love you in the way I love everyone like you: decent, hardworking, honest person that you are and always will be. But it's her choice, and her right. And one I don't want to be a part of, not in any sense. She threw down the gauntlet, and I refused the challenge. I wish you both, and your kids, the best.

It'll all work out well for you all, I'm sure, and in time she'll see: I'm not and never was a threat.

I'll use a term I don't like in the way I don't like "sheeple," but which every once in a while I fail to think of a better substitute for the sentiment. Breeder Games are so Boring. Really, they're boring in the way "white trash" or "ghetto" games are dull to those with wealth, education and opportunity. Sad, sick, unhealthy people trapped in sad, sick, unhealthy and unprofitable relationships are to be pitied. And so I do. But I also don't include them in my life, not as counselor, nor as friend, unless (brually speaking) I'm paid. I'm an Adult, for better or worse, and my definition of that includes an intolerance for what I perceive to be childish games. Get over yourself, get over projection and obession with other people who aren't the cause of your problems. Bottom line to the Breeder female: someone like me, well, I'm not even thinking about men like your husband. I could produce 0000 blog pages explaining why, but that fact that you don 't know this already tells me it would be a waste of my time. So I won't waste it! He's yours, honey, always has been, always will be. Perceive and believe that, for the sake of your children. Because now, I won't be there to help you with them, and believe me, there will come a time when you wish you had all the help you could muster when they hit toddler stage and you have repeated 'Calgon' moments. Ask my sisters; they've enjoyed knowing that having a competent and concerned nonbreeder woman/friend is very, very valuable, at times. Don't cut us all out of your lives, that's all I'm Sayin.

Sigh. Str8 marriage games are just so tired. At least we queerfolk have good shoes; they make playing our games a tad more Fabulous, yo?

...and then there's a tangential "CD encounters the Str8 World at the Bar" moment that I'll share, Lambert-like, later when I have a chance to come back to this post. But let me say in the blogger way: I'm bitter I just wasted 2/3 a day on some other people's crap; when I could've (and would've) just said, "Hey, that's fine! No problem, call me in ten years!" and been done with it. Instead, the morning/workday is gone, and all I have to show for it is bitterness about educational standards in this country ("your" = "you're;" "here" = "hear;" etc.) Jeebus Krist we're fucked. I know because the insanely, foolishly jealous woman I've been dealing with all morning is 1) preventing a liberal Brilliant Scientist from focusing on his work in alternative energy with her jealousy about the non-threat that is me and 2) will pass on many of her issues/problems to their kids, thus fucking another generation of taxpayers/schoolfunders/you and me, Faggot/whatever. Bah. At least they are an "integrated" Southern couple, there's that much progress, I suppose.

Can't we just all grow up already? Is that really too much to ask? Don't tell me; I've read this blog enough to know: the answer is, sadly, No. Feh, such is life.