Just checked the countdown timer on my home page — 9 hours and 22 minutes until M. is leaving on a jet plane.

It’s not an end, it’s a beginning. He’ll be jumping into a business venture that seems to fit him like a pair of 30/30 Levi’s 527s.

The dramatic part of me kind of loves the tragic loss aspect. Here is the first guy in a long time with whom I feel comfortable, and everyone around me, friends, family, comics, has nothing but kind vibes and good things to say. And, he’s leaving! Cue the violins already. It’s perfect in a very pedestrian, Lifetime Network kind of way. The tragedy of lovers torn asunder by circumstances and a fate they couldn’t escape.

In truth, he’ll be jetting back here on business and to take care of some stuff. Over dinner, he just plotted out how and where and why we were likely to see each other once a month through April. And, in further truth, I’m so wired to technology, it’s unlikely I’d be unreachable even as they were tossing shovelfuls of dirt into the hole around me.

But, I love the drama. I have to. It provides the only counterpoint to the various shitheads I have dated who still walk amongst us. In the universe I control (in my dreams), ex-boyfriends would fly to opposite coasts, and the good guys would stay.

Couple of other random notes: The depths of M.’s Western pop culture knowledge continues to amaze me. Today’s conversation was in regard to Andy Williams, the theme from Love Story and including Andy’s influence on the Osmond family.

Lest anyone think I am edgy and angry and all sorts of post-modern, post-feminist urban ethos things, guess again. What did I do in the face of my man leaving this side of the country? I baked cookies. As M. pointed out in regard to my happiness at spending a day taking pictures and generally snow-frolicking, I love a cliche. Just packed him little Ziplock bagfuls of cookies, nuts and M&Ms, and I put a water bottle in the fridge with filtered H20. You’d think he was walking to San Francisco. Deep down, apparently, I’m an earthy girly girl, who shows her affection with chocolate chips and snacks. Now, I have to go put on a pink flannel nightgown and bunny slippers and take some barbituates with Mescal.

Meanwhile, I’ll think of M. whenever I see a Tom Cruise movie.