If you normally read my pieces here and roll your eyes at their effusiveness that borders on the cloying, let me apologize right up front. I’m probably going to piss you off today.

Everyone else, just follow along.

I had a lot on my mind this weekend, so today is mostly about loose ends, a little bit of a lot of things, piecemeal, take it how you will.

The ex-boyfriend finally moved out of the apartment this weekend. We’d been co-habitating for two months while we figured out what came next. More conspicuous to me than the noticeable absence of Nathan is the noticeable absence of Nathan’s stuff — an empty closet, pictures off the walls, a computer desk gone, a clock missing on the bedside table. Those spaces seem more glaring, more sad than the space where he isn’t. It’s easy to forget that our relationships aren’t just between us, but they’re an accumulation of spaces, spaces we fill with things, spaces we mingle together. And when someone goes, they leave all these blank spaces behind, shadow lives.

But life isn’t all shadow. While the ex-boyfriend was packing up, I took a day trip to New Orleans to spend some time with Marc, my new beau (I guess I can call him that, here’s hoping he doesn’t read this and raises an eyebrow at the suggestion). You ever meet someone who, almost immediately, feels as though they’ve been in your life for years? Marc feels like that. It’s a delight, really. Our dates have been epic in length, (you could watch Wagner’s Ring Cycle during each of our three dates with time to get through all three Lord of the Rings movies as a chaser,) but they’ve been wonderfully comfortable and lived-in, in a way that’s not a complaint. Although, our immediate comfortable connection has made more than one person accuse of being just like lesbians. Which made me laugh. (And please don’t barrage me with “gay guys always hate on lesbians” comments. I’m on your side. I think commitment is sexy as hell.) Sometimes, our stereotypes are good, no?

Marc and I listened to Obama’s HRC speech on Sirius radio, and I have to say, it ticked me off. I got very tired of hearing all the thunderous applause at what amounted to this; ‘Hey gays, I know the things you want, and I’m telling you I want them, too. I’m just not going to tell you when, where, or how you’re going to get them.” I’m bored with the dangling carrot, and I’m tired of it being good enough for our community. Yes, on paper, Obama’s a good boyfriend, but doesn’t it feel a little like we’re always snuggling with him on the couch, telling him how much we want to turn this relationship into something serious, and he’s saying, “Oh yeah, baby, I agree, I do too, just not right now, let’s just enjoy hat we have right here.” I deserve a better boyfriend, one who not only tells me loves me, but SHOWS me. Come on Obama. We’re ready for marriage (or haven’t you noticed?) Step up to the plate, okay?

I found a quote this morning that I’m tacking up in my cubicle: “Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do.” Goethe. It’s easy to get caught up in the talk, the endless and labyrinthine debates and discussions about our key issues, but the talk only gets us so far. Bullhorns and signs and blogs (although I love blogs, mind you, don’t wanna anger my web Mom and Dad) are terrific, but they only go so far. Change doesn’t really happen with Big Symbolic Gestures. It takes place in miniature, in small steps, in putting your boyfriend’s picture up on your desk at work, in being out to your family, in correcting someone who assumes you’re straight, in calling someone out for saying something negative about gay people. Yes, we can feel as though change comes when we all band together and shout for equality, but the bigger change, the lasting change, comes in increments, in small steps, in what happens between you and another person. We should focus more of our energy on that change, on what we can do to make that change happen. Eye on the big prize, hands down in the muck and mire.

Favorite moment of the weekend: Marc and I visiting his friend, Wedon, watching Wanda Sykes’ HBO stand-up special. Marc, cuddled up next to me on the couch, turns his head once it’s over and says, “Baby, you tired? If you want to go we can.” That term of endearment was a surprise and arrived unexpectedly. And while I, of course, found it totally adorable, I was also struck by the ordinariness of the moment, the reminder that this life, this moment, was no different than the lives of millions of other couples, gay and straight, that no matter how different we feel and how much we’re demonized in the public discourse, we’re always occupying beautiful, perfect and ordinary lives. We’re not going to indoctrinate children or bring down Western civilization or destroy Jesus or kill America. We’re just someone’s Baby, someone’s Boo, someone’s Honey.

Not as sexy as annihilating the world, but it’ll do.