Monday morning, I drive Ruben to work at his Sacramento State campus. I pick him up in the afternoon when he finishes lecturing. Once back at his apartment, I sew a spiked cube while he prepares tomorrow’s class notes. We cook an early dinner. In the evening, I drive Ruben to his Sac City campus. I have an hour of more sewing before I collect him after his last lecture.
I’ve become the good wife. I crave domesticity after my spring road trip and Burning Man. I’m platonically partnering with friends and putting down roots. I’m kicking off projects and making new connections. I’m nesting in my apartment to sort, prune, and otherwise arrange the sticks.
Collaboration is not new to me. I grew up with two triplet brothers with whom I played a lot of board and computer games. We were adversarial youths competing for winners and losers. The decades have sanded down the sharp edges. We three brothers interact like friends who will always be friends.
I’m trying to recreate that brotherly dynamic in San Francisco. One person won’t fill the entire role of partner, so I’m seeking companionship wherever I can.
I never thought I would say it, but I am ready at forty-one to get married.