Boy did I screw that one up.

If you are looking for future dispatches from the Desert in this blog, I have bad news for you.

That might not happen.

As you may know, I agreed to split my time between the desert and San Diego for another year in April.  Within about four days, the housemate made it clear that I made a mistake because he decided to have one of his bipolar episodes and take it out on me.

May rolls around.  He finds love in a fifth wheel trailer in the middle of nowhere in San Bernadino County.  Asking me to take him there and back was reasonable.  Saying that when we went out I was only expected to be a minder for him while he gets stark raving drunk to the point of blacking out wasn't.  Insisting I pay for the bottle of Jack Daniels Mr. Fifth Wheel wanted was definitely unreasonable.

Did I mention for the second year in a row, he didn't bother to take me out on my birthday, even though I took him out to celebrate his?  I say that because even when the Amate was flat broke, he managed to take me out for drinks to celebrate my birthday (No, I don't know how he did it.)

I head back to San Diego to get stuff done.  I am greeted with a text asking if  I give him money so he could financially bail out Mr. Fifth Wheel.  I said no.  I got a text saying, "Stay in San Diego."

Of course the next day, I was screaming at the top of my lungs, "HELLO, TIJUANA!  THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME!"  As I started pounding pavement, I get an apology and a request to come back and meet his mom (a really nice, smart woman by the way.)

Mommy and I see eye to eye on certain things about him.  He is upset that we do.

He also got sexually frustrated and spent two weeks using me as an emotional punching bag.  Ultimately that led to a trip to CCBC where I decided to fight back by engaging in as much sexual activity as I could.

He wasn't happy that I was getting laid and he wasn't.  OK who could not resist being asked to participate in a window show that you are ogling?

So I head back for SD Pride and a doctor appointment, and return to the desert for two weeks.

It was going well for a week and a half - then he was told by someone he met on line that they were not coming over to his place to have a sex fest.

He turned on me.

He insisted on my paying for a night out.

He then on that night out thwarted an assignation I was undertaking.

He then was hacked that I was leaving Sunday morning.

I leave Sunday morning and he texts, "Don't come back."

Don't worry, that won't happen.

At least I didn't say anything.

So, it's on to the next round.