How Times Change
Five years ago, I walked out of a Santa Fe bar humiliated, furious, and absolutely certain I would never fucking return. Last night, I walked back through the same door with my wife. The place had changed. So had I. Apparently, some promises are worth breaking.
This Is Us
After weeks of turmoil, Dawna is finally here. At three in the fucking morning, with her asleep beside me and our new life beginning to take shape, I realized something wonderfully simple: my heart is full, my world is quiet, and this feels right.
Holding Pattern
You can be excited about where you're going and still grieve what you're leaving. Both things can be true. Right now, we're somewhere between what was and what comes next, surrounded by hotel coffee, storage units, trucks, and shitty Wi-Fi. The emergency has passed. The rebuilding is beginning. And we're doing it together.
Apparently, Talking Isn't Always Helping
I fucking love this woman, and when she's frustrated, every instinct inside me wants to fix things. Turns out, sometimes helping isn't solving. Sometimes helping isn't talking. Sometimes helping is finding some shade, drinking some fucking water, and shutting the hell up. Apparently, loving someone means learning that too.
The World Feels Right Again
I pointed Nyx north because the woman I love needed me. Through darkness, wet pavement, thunderstorms, and entirely too many fucking deer, the mission was simple: arrive. And when I finally pulled into that parking lot and saw Dawna running toward me with that huge smile on her face, everything changed. I was there. She was there. We were together. And the world felt right again.
Fucking Waiting
I know exactly what I need to do. Pack my bag on Nyx, point north, and go get the woman I love. There's no complicated decision to make and no problem left to analyze. There's just one problem: somewhere in Santa Fe, a perfectly decent stranger is sleeping peacefully while my driver's license sits on his kitchen counter. And so I wait.
My Ship, My Responsibility
Riding with Dawna makes me want to slow down and savor the ride. But I've learned there's a difference between slowing down and becoming hesitant. When the woman I love climbs onto the back of my motorcycle, she's trusting me with her life. Sometimes protecting her means taking it easy. Sometimes it means twisting the fucking throttle and getting us away from the idiots.
Balance (A Guest Blog by Dawna Russom)
What does safety actually feel like after a lifetime spent fighting for freedom, autonomy, and the right to make your own stupid decisions? Maybe it feels like sitting beside a powerful river without fearing the current. Maybe it feels like finally being seen and loved. And maybe, sometimes, it feels like having enough room in your life to get really fucking pissed off about a crappy mechanical pencil.
She Stayed
She was supposed to leave. Instead, she read what I'd written, saw that my heart was hurting, and stayed. Just a few more days, but sometimes love isn't about grand gestures. Sometimes it's simply looking at someone you care about and choosing them. And I'm still learning what the fuck it feels like to be chosen.
When Ours Becomes Mine Again
For the last several days, this house hasn't felt like mine. It's felt like ours. Her deodorant is on the counter. Her things are mixed with mine. She rearranged our bedroom. And today she's going back to Colorado. Nothing is wrong. Everything is actually incredibly fucking right. Maybe that's why watching her leave hurts so much.
Seven Oysters
I spent the hours before proposing trying to understand why I was so fucking nervous when I already knew her answer. Then I stood in front of Dawna, trembling, said every word I'd been carrying for her, and asked her to marry me. She said yes. The oysters nearly didn't survive the occasion, but apparently even the universe wasn't going to fuck this one up.
The Deodorant
Sometimes the biggest signs that your life has changed are the smallest ones. A garage door opening before I can reach for the remote. A little gift waiting at home. A second stick of deodorant on the bathroom counter. Ordinary things, maybe. But when you’ve spent most of your life surviving, ordinary can feel a lot like love.
The Two Most Important Women in My Life
Dawna came to town, Nyx finally came back to life, and somehow I ended up crawling through Indian Market traffic with a clutch designed by Satan himself. Somewhere between the sore hand, stupid drivers, approaching rain, and a change of plans, I realized something else: the two most important women in my life are finally back where they belong.
She Brought Me Home
I got pulled over on my way home from pool league for doing what I always do on a motorcycle: getting away from traffic. But somewhere in the middle of arguing about speed, safety, and freedom, I mentioned the crash that nearly killed me. Suddenly, the traffic stop wasn't really about the traffic stop anymore.
The Responsible Thing
A friend suggested a motorcycle that sounded perfectly reasonable. Unfortunately, reasonable and I have a complicated relationship. After spending decades away from riding because someone else was afraid of motorcycles, I came back to them after nearly dying and discovered something important: I’m not giving up the things that make me feel alive again.
The Guy Code
There are rules among men that nobody ever writes down, but everyone seems to understand. Veterans, bikers, and blue-collar guys have a habit of testing each other with sarcasm, insults, and relentless ribbing. As a transgender veteran, I don't always know which set of social rules I'm about to be judged by. Last weekend reminded me that sometimes the hardest part isn't surviving the test, it's explaining to the people you love why the test existed in the first place.
Naked
Why is it easier for us to get naked than it is to tell someone how we actually feel? Somewhere along the way, we've convinced ourselves that exposing our hearts is more dangerous than exposing our bodies. Maybe it's time we started having the hard conversations before we need a bottle of whiskey to find the courage.
The Loudest Guy in the Room
Sometimes the loudest guy in the room isn't the smartest. He's just the one who can't stand being ignored. After one too many encounters with men who mistake ego for competence, I found myself wondering why confidence so often replaces capability, and why the people worth listening to rarely have to raise their voices.
Forever
Sometimes the people who think they know your story know the least about it. While searching for what might become our forever home, an unexpected text dredged up old assumptions, old accusations, and old ghosts. Instead of reminding me of the past, though, it reminded me just how far Dawna and I have come, and how lucky I am to be building a future with the woman I love.