Moving Drama

It shall all be documented here. Yes, we have taken the brilliant advice of Miss Betty. Go, enjoy the tribulations.

Happy Birthday

I spent the weekend with my man, preemptively celebrating his birthday, which is actually today. Earth Day. Fitting, I think, because the Earth moves around him, does it not? Ok, so that's a little cheesy, but true-ish. I got him a few little gifts, we went to dinner, but the most important gift I gave him was almost mistaken for a drunken utterance.

I actually committed to the move. Together. I got the courage to tell him this after several glasses of yummy wine, so naturally, he assumed I might not have been in my right mind. I was, though. I am writing it here to make it more real. We're moving. Lots of you already know the exact place we are moving to, and I'm sure I will have a lot to write about as relocation 2008 gets nearer. The exact date is not yet decided. I have some loose ends to wrap up here before I make that leap, and he sort of understands that, though it doesn't keep him from causing butterflies and the deep furrowing of my brow by pressing for more details.

We will be going to see some places next month, and by then, maybe I'll have a better idea of when the time will be right. If we can survive the hunt for a place to live. I knew it would be an issue, of course, because I have definite opinions about apartment priorities, which might be slightly different from his. He has called me inflexible about most of them. Ironic for a yogini, don't you think? Still, it's a step up from pig-headedly stubborn, which I've been called in the past. Or he's just more polite.

I think we should have a house warming party. You are all invited (unless "you" are a weird stalker type, in which case, I mean everybody else).

things

There are things I've learned about myself since we've last spoken, internets. One very important thing is that I am no longer the girl who can drink as much as she wants, whatever she wants, without hangover consequence. I used to laugh in the faces of my friends, who after a long night out, would whine the next morning about headaches and nausea. It was hilarious to me, really, because I did not know any better. I know. Now, I am aware, and I am sorry. I awoke last Sunday to the acute awareness that my stomach wanted out of my body. Every time I attempted to move toward an upright position, it was a war between my tummy and my head, because my head thought it was a perfectly good idea to let my brain escape through every orifice of my skull, since it was pounding so hard to get out. Apparently, it is not a good idea to drink several martinis interspersed with random shots. Hah!

I have also learned, or was rather reminded, that I am the girl who got away. Always. It is the downside of being such good friends with exes. But even the exes I haven't stayed close with over the years eventually do the same thing. They wait until I am at a perfectly content place in my life, and they unleash the "what if's". I am completely ridiculously in love, you see, so now is the perfect time for such a phone call. I've actually been somehow expecting it in a way. It never fails.

Last night, I was on the phone with my man. It was pretty late for him, because he tends to wake up at a frighteningly early hour, but there we were, just chatting on the phone, debating the definition of murder, of all things. My call waiting beeped, and on the other line was J, a (very ex) ex, and a very good friend. J was my high school sweetheart. He was my best friend and the bad boy in school. As likely to drop out and pump gas for the rest of his life, while debating the merits of Tolstoy and Shakespeare with whatever customer would listen, as he was to find a place in white collar society and become the very model of yuppy. He teetered on rebel and brilliance, and it's probably why he was so fascinating. And he was in a band. Seriously, who could resist?

J and I closed the chapter on love many years ago. We slowly built back a really strong friendship. His family was my second family. His dad died not too long ago, and I spent some time with his mom, who is sweet and strong, and frankly, a badass. J has grown into a man I am proud of and adore. He is married, with a daughter, and though his wife resisted our relationship at first, we've become close. I've babysat their daughter and have played many hours of poker at their house. She has thanked me for being a good friend to him, because she knows that he is the man he is, partially because of me. We have mutual respect.

When J called late last night, he told me that he was calling from overseas. When I told him I was on the phone with my man, whom he has met, he insisted it was nothing important, and that we would talk soon. He did mention just having woken from a dream and feeling the need to call me, but assured me he would disclose all later. It just made me laugh, because it was so random.

When I got off the phone a little while later, I had a text message from J. He couldn't go back to sleep and it was 6am where he was. I called him back, and was not at all prepared for the conversation that followed. He was in a country he was unfamiliar with and uncomfortable in, for work. He had a dream of us, together, with his family, and woke up feeling happy and content. It was nostalgic and strange. It was also probably completely inappropriate on his part, because his wife would be none too happy to know about the dream, much less his need to call me and chat about it in the wee hours from another continent.

This is something that always happens with me, and I can't figure out why. Every boy and man from my past feels the need to call me at some point, long after it makes any difference, to tell me that I was the one. What is the appropriate response to that kind of statement? "Thanks"? "Too bad you didn't figure that out way back when"? I don't know. I don't think it's likely to change our friendship. I'm writing it off to homesickness and jet lagged delirium.

Welcome to August

Sorry, guys. Flowers and girliness have returned to LBM. The dominatrix theme was cute for a few weeks, and especially sweet because I was assisted by my man. What can I say? He's a bit of a perv. I dig that about him.

Who's sick of hearing about my man by now? Sucks for you. I was initially worried about writing about him, as you may remember, when we first started dating. After all, he was very much aware of this site, and the knowledge that he and his friends and at least one brother (hi!) have read, and could continue to read whatever I might write here, freaked me out. But over the months, the thought of him annoying me to the point of bitching about it for all of those people to see has fallen away for a couple of reasons. The first (and best) reason being that he is completely unannoying. It's a word. I said so. The other reason is the silliness of that. I don't censor myself in my real life very much. Why would I avoid talking about someone who is a daily (albeit from many miles away) part of my life? Well, the answer is simple. I wouldn't. I might even give him his own category. So there.

So, August starts out with the goodness of going to see the aforementioned unannoying man for a long weekend. There will be a first-time meeting with his father, as well as a trip to his hometown, complete with longtime friends. It's a good thing I'm so charming, huh? I don't actually have any feelings of trepidation over any of that. It turns out that I've learned an important piece of information through all of the people I've met in his life so far. Single ladies, pay attention. This might be the best clue to potential men in your life.

A good man will surround himself with people who display all of the same qualities you like in him.

Not to say that they will all be exactly alike, of course. Just that they will, as a whole, be kind/funny/etc. in some combination if that is what he is. Seems like a simple concept, right? But think about it. How many men have you met who have the obnoxious best friend(s)? At first, you write it off as a boy thing that you don't really get. Then, without fail, that guy you thought was great in the beginning turns out to be a lot more like his jackass buddy than you suspected. It's a clue, I'm telling you. That stupid expression about "birds of a feather" flocking together seems to be true. Can someone tell me why it took me so long to learn this particular lesson? Being stubborn rules.

Anyway, I expect that the weekend's activities will be fun for all. And there will be boats. And a "beach" that is not on an ocean, which is a concept I don't even really get. The jury is out on whether it actually qualifies as a beach.

hi, invisible internet people

And how are you all? Have you been playing nicely while I've been gone? Good. I know I haven't been very attentive to you, what with all of the whipping and handcuffing going on, but I have not forgotten about you. I did, in fact, get a chance to hang out with some invisible internet folks while my man was here for an unprecedented 10 days. Yes, 10 whole days of sleeping well, because he is the cure for insomnia. But I digress...internet people...right.

Unfortunately, I caught up with this particular group at the tail end of their adventures, when they were all exhausted from the day's drunken debauchery. Still, they did not fail to entertain. Mr. Speaker, you were missed. I hope your birthday was almost as cool as if you had spent it here. At least your friends made it!

Memorable moments during the 10 days of goodness (that I'm willing to put onto the internets, without fear that if my father reads it, he will spontaneously combust):

We attended a family wedding, where the cutest baby on earth was present. Pictures to follow as soon as my dumbass finds the camera cable soon.

I was told by Iggy that the usual motif of this blog looked like "a unicorn farted out flowers and butterflies and shit". He then lit up for the 3rd time in 20 minutes in a non-smoking area. The bartender loved him. I found him to be completely charming.

I got to see the Rooster in full on-pimp mode, much to the disapproval of one friend-of-chick being pimped on.

I won a ridiculous double-or-nothing bet based on watching one of the worst movies ever made, and get this...NOT loving it. Ummm ok. Cha ching.

130 pounds of fury and I spent several minutes dissecting all of the reasons a potentially hot chick wasn't actually hot. I'm still going with weird belly issues. Also, despite Ftrain's claim that I'm "hippy for a skinny chick", Derrick dispelled that myth. It's really just that my hips are bigger than Ftrain's...because I'm not a 10 year old boy.

I got to witness the pussy dance. If you haven't seen it, it's probably not at all what you think it is, and definitely way funnier. I would like to get it up on YouTube ASAP.

I can't possibly translate the drunken ramblings describing the dangers of fellatio when large belt buckles are present, as discussed between Bobby Bracelet and Daddy. I can only tell you that it was simultaneously hilarious and disturbing.

Reason 394 that my man is awesome: His friends and family don't suck at all.

I'm Still Here Sometimes

Aren't you all glad that Wheezy has been here to pick up the slack for me? Because there's been lots of slack, and for various reasons. First, there's the whole working a semi-real job, hopefully temporarily, but still a slow torture for someone who is used to working on a schedule based on when-I-feel-like-it. Like, I feel like doing this today, but I will take a nap at some point, and maybe work until 1am because that's when I'm feeling creative. This is how I work best. Clocking in and out and attending meetings? Not so much. It makes me itchy on the inside.

Also, because irony is my friend, no sooner did I agree to the itch-inducing job, did I get an email from a former client who wants more stuff. A good client, who is nice and very artist-friendly, and that is very good news.

Also, there is the traveling, which is for all the right reasons, but I don't believe there has been an issue-free travel experience between all the flights my man and I have taken over the past couple of months. There are plane delays and freak weather conditions, and mechanical issues. Luckily for me, most of those things just wind up as extra days together, so I choose to believe it's the universe's way of gifting me more goodness, which I so clearly deserve.

Speaking of gifts, I'm sure you've all been in suspense over what the birthday gift was for my man. Joe Speaker had the best guess with the banana hammock, but there just isn't one that can accommodate him, if you know what I mean. I know you might think that's hyperbole, with all of the huge junk talk, but I have proof. Proof in the form of an exact casting, and I'm totally willing to auction it off for the right price. But I warn you...shipping and handling charges won't be cheap.

Anyway...the gift. I made him something special. It's a treasure chest of sorts, made out of steel. I filled it with all sorts of goodies, which I will leave to your collective imagination.

So, to summarize...I haven't fallen off the face of the earth, the birthday weekend trip was great, junk casting to highest bidder, and hand-made gifts are super cool (macaroni necklaces excluded), especially when made better with goodies.

Weekend Trip

Just wanted to let you know that I'll be away for the weekend celebrating Earth Day!!! Ok, well, not really. It just also happens to be my man's birthday on Sunday. Which is fitting, because he's very environmentally concerned, just like me, only really not so much. There is only room for one pseudo hippy in this relationship!

So, I'll be going to visit to be reminded of how much he rules, because it's been 3 whole days since I've seen him, and I'm forgetful.

Don't you want to know what I got him for his birthday? Too bad, because he reads this, remember? Surprises are fun.

Weekend Excursion

I am forced to trudge through three more days before I leave for the three days of goodness that were supposed to happen last weekend. You know, the weekend when I proclaimed Mother Nature to be a whore. I would like to take a moment to retract that, at least partially (I'm still a little bit annoyed with the whole sleet/hail thing). Apparently Mother Nature is much wiser than I am, and perhaps her judgment was correct in the switching of weekends. So yeah, sorry about all of that name calling.

In case it's not obvious, the goodness is all about going to see my man. He is the only thing that can persuade me to go to a place with even crappier, colder weather, instead of cashing in the plane ticket to retreat to a beach somewhere...preferably where there is also a pool with a pool bar. Is there anything better than sitting on a little stool submerged in water, while consuming delicious cocktails in the sun? But I digress...I am not, in fact, heading to sunshine and sand in my toes. I am going to the midwest. A region I have been to only once before, in less fun circumstances, and with very disappointing experiences. Like the food. We drove around for an hour one day, attempting to find someplace to eat whose menu did not feature a super early bird special and biscuits smothered in gravy and sausage. The journey did not reveal any hidden culinary treasures.

I fully expect this trip to be at least 340% better, because even if the food disappoints and the weather is horrid, I would be perfectly happy to spend the entire weekend locked indoors with him, and that is probably the only thing better than sun drenched cocktail hour.

Happy SBJD

Ok, boys, you can all thank Kere for the reminder about what should, indeed, be your favorite holiday ever, and it's coming up soon...

Steak and BJ Day

For those of you unaware, March 14th is the man's answer to Valentine's Day. Much like most things from the minds of men, it is exactly what it sounds like. No hidden agenda, no complicated subtext. That's right, ladies. Men actually spell it out for you, but I do realize that sometimes we like to embellish these things in our heads somehow, so I will clarify.

Steak and BJ Day requires only those two things.

1. steak: Cook it, buy it, whatever.
2. blowjob: If you're really opposed to this, I'm sure he'll accept one from someone else with your blessing. He may actually prefer that, if your skills are weak. It's HIS day. Let him have his brief moments of happiness.

Steak and BJ Day does NOT require any of the following, and these things should be avoided:

• sappy greeting cards
  
• dressing up (however, you may dress up in something kinky while performing the second requirement)
  
• getting together with family to celebrate (that could be awkward)
  
• big, romantic gestures
  
• deep, meaningful discussions about your relationship
  

simple enough, right?

I'm not at all a fan of Valentine's Day, but I am a big fan of this holiday, because it does everything right that VDay does wrong. It's not commercial, it's not some excuse for giving and receiving material crap under the guise of romance. It's a little superficial, but it's pure in its simplicity.

I will not, however, be celebrating this year. It's just a matter of geography. Sad, huh? There's always next year.

Things to like...and not

The past week has been filled with the goodness, and sprinkled with some crap. A pretty good ratio, so I'm not bitching too much, but...

I like:
kissing cute boys who make me laugh. Big surprise there, huh?
lazy couch-bound days watching bad tv
fabulous gay boys who party like rock stars
celebrating my birthday (again) a month late, because I can
being carded...for anything
perfection
drinking (heavily) with no hangover punishment
when the muse is cooperating, and the work flows effortlessly

I really definitely don't like:
flighty moments that result in leaving things behind...
...and losing my cell phone (again)
things that get broken
when the muse is stubborn, and the work feels like work.

Notes from my cave

You know when you meet someone who reminds you that not all men are annoying? That some are, in fact, a lot of fun and capable of holding a conversation? It's nice, huh? I'm just saying.

It's really ridiculously cold right now, and it's only going to get worse over the next few days. I'm considering hibernation as the only viable option, since I'm a big, whiny wimp in the cold. Can someone remind me why I don't live someplace tropical and delicious?

Because apparently, I'm 14

I read somewhere that if something makes you cringe with humiliation, it's probably a source of hilarity to others. With this in mind, I would like to prove my dedication to entertaining the fine readers of this nonsense.

I had a date yesterday with CYB. We had a good time, hung out at the Whitney, ordered Thai food in for dinner, and I exposed him to all of my TiVo addictions.

I woke up this morning with a huge, purple hickey on the side of my neck. Yeah, I know, I'm cringing. Even better? I had to open the yoga studio this morning, which means I got to display it for an audience of scantily clad yoga students, while they tried to check into class and not stare at it.

(hoping comments are still broken)

blind date

So, one of the yoga instructors has been trying to hook me up with this guy. I don't know all that much about him, but this is what I do know:

• He's (apparently) extremely good-looking, but unaware of it. (This is my favorite kind of extremely good-looking man)
  
• He does yoga. (I don't know many guys who do yoga who aren't in really good shape)
  
• He's from Belgium. (I don't know anything about Belgium, except that they make yummy waffles and boys from there have cute French/Dutch accents)
  
• He has both a suit and an arts background. This is the most interesting thing about him I've found out so far. He's an artist with a business degree, basically. I find that fascinating.
  

the not-so-fab facts:

• He's not very tall. Not short by any means, as he's about 5'10, but I have grown accustom to the tall men. (both MWP and CYB are over 6'4")
  
• His English is not so great. Accents are cute, but the language barrier could be annoying.
  

At the very least, it can be blogging fodder. Stay tuned.

still crushed

"I smoke and I drink and every time I blink, I have a tiny dream... but as bad as I am, I'm proud of the fact that I'm worse than I seem." -Ani DiFranco "Grey"

This reminds me of the still-happening breakdown of my heartbroken friend, who is currently checking himself into a "loony bin" (his words, not mine), because he still cannot function like a normal human being. It's been about two months, and there seems no end to the tears and the self-pity. I've tried it all. Empathetic ear, sound advice, all the way to "Ok, enough, she's a fuckin' bitch, now move ON". Nothing has helped. He lives in L.A., so I figured there's got to be some serious kick-ass therapy there, in the land of crazier-than-you-can-ever-imagine-being, right? I mean, next to NYC, where I know we have our share of whackos. So I started suggesting this toward the end of the trip to the middle of shitty nowhere with him, knowing that once his crutch (me) was gone, he would have very little to hold himself up with. He kept saying once he got back to L.A., he would talk to his doctor to get a referral, because he had to work in Vegas for a week first...which amazes me, by the way, because in case you're just tuning into this story, the guy is a comedian. He has to suspend his crippling grief for an hour at a time to make people laugh, and I have to be honest. The shows he did in the middle of nowhere? Some of the funniest shit he's ever done, and I've seen his act at least a kabillion times. Sure, it was bitter and fraught with angry woman jokes, but he killed.

So, he's been back in L.A. for a couple of weeks, and his doctor told him he'd be best off if he checked himself into a treatment center for "mental exhaustion" (aka: you're way too far down the spiral of self-loathing for simple therapy). Getting into the place isn't quite as simple as that, though, because there's all this red tape and insurance approval nonsense, and meanwhile, the guy is driving around the city of angels, aimlessly, trying to figure out why life has handed him this particular variety of crap.

I'm just frustrated for him, and with him (not in the sense that it's his fault, just that I wish he had the tools to snap out of it without all this).

On a completely unrelated note, I think I might break down and call CYB back today. I figure he probably heads back out of town early in the morning, so that solves the dilemma of growing bored with him, and all I'm saying here is...sexual prime, people. I'm in it, and it would just be a shame to let it go to waste, right?

Random

So, what do you want to talk about today? Me? Oh, ok, if I must.

First, let me just say that the next month or so will be a little stressful. There's the whole holiday thing, which entails the juggling of family obligation, which is usually only slightly annoying with travel details and such. This year, it's a bit more pronounced because I have some decisions to make. Big ones, involving where I live and balancing my career with practical stuff, like retaining the ability to eat and have shelter and such. Being an artist is (I think) a noble, but not altogether the most stable profession. This isn't a pity party, I'm just saying...I may begin living up to the "bitch" part of the title of this blog (more?) as the year comes to a close. It's not because I'm the grinch, it's because I have some stuff on my mind. Ok, that's out of the way.

I'm getting bored with the layout of this site. I like it ok, and I like the ability to change it up as I see fit, but I'd like to be able to add another column (Petunia is lonely down there) and convert it to the very mysterious (to me) new blogger beta "layout", as opposed to the "template" it is now in. I've tried to code it myself, which is hilarious, because in case you don't know this about me...I'm a tech moron. But hey, if anyone out there isn't (a moron, I mean, with the computer stuff), feel free to design me up a newfangled and super cute page I can then tweak until my eyes bleed, as I did with this one.

Oh, you want me to talk about boys? Well, not much to discuss, except that CYB is in town for Thanksgiving break, and he called a few days ago. I haven't called him back because well...I'm not so much feeling it. He's fun for a little while (and a good smoocher), but I tire of him easily, and find it hard to ummm...dismiss him, for lack of a nicer term, when I become bored. Besides, he just lacks the kind of passion I need to keep me interested. Basically, I don't really feel like dating just for the sake of dating, even if getting some smooch time in doesn't seem like a terrible idea.

Oh, and thanks, for those of you who've asked, Bubba is doing much better. Totally fine, in fact, as if the whole rushing to the vet thing was a complete waste of his time. I should know better by now that he just likes to fake his own near-death now and again, just to entertain himself by watching me freak out. Brat.

tired

I'm back, I'm emotionally exhausted, I'm sorry. I'm sorry to any man who may have ever felt the way that my friend does, even to a lesser degree, because of me. I'm fairly certain I saw him as close as I've ever seen anyone to a complete nervous breakdown...several times over the past 6 days. Being in the town where the woman who just walked out on him (with almost no explanation at all) grew up was terribly difficult for him. I'm thankful I was able to be there. Her parents showed up to watch his show...did I mention he's a comedian? Yeah, he had to be funny guy every night in the midst of all of this. Her parents in the audience prevented some of the more bitter exgirlfriend material from appearing that show, which I think kind of sucks because it's all funny...laughter from pain, it totally works.

Anyway, it was an experience I'll not soon forget, and one that will make me rethink the way that I end relationships, because I don't ever want to be someone who causes that.

I'm not going to discuss the exact location, but some food clues to share what a hellish place it was:

There were a few options of restaurants in the general vicinity of our crappy hotel. Two of them were Bob Evans.

I saw someone dipping what was supposed to be pizza into ranch dressing

"That's the best burger place ever, like Wendy's, only not all uppity like them. They don't have chicken and shit"...actual quote from a local

blech

heartbreak

I am currently dealing with a good friend who is completely heartbroken. The type of heartbroken that makes me hurt for him, especially since I have seen all that he's done to repair his situation, to no avail. We've all been hurt, but the lengths he has gone to to get this woman back is unreal to me. Surely above and beyond anything I've ever done in that situation. This woman left him...while he was away...working, with only a short, vague note and a phone call, after she had already packed all of her belongings and was gone.

He went through a few days of being pissed off and shocked, but then...then he launched a full-on campaign of get-girlfriend-back. There have been letters...well-written and heartfelt, to her family, because they were together for a long time, and he is close with them. Not letters placing blame for the horrid way that she ended their relationship, but apologizing for any role he may have played in her unhappiness. He made videos that he sent to her, in which he pleaded his case, the first with humor (he's a comedian), and the second filled with pictures of them together and happy, with the narrative between simply pointing out that they were taken just in the weeks before she left, and look how happy they were.

It's been heart wrenching, and I just want him to be better. He's gotten no response so far. It's been 3 weeks today. I want to shake this woman for not realizing what she has given up. I realize you can never know the whole story from just one person's perspective. I'm sure she has her reasons, but he is someone I've known a very long time, and I know she couldn't possibly do better, or find someone who could love her more.

Anyone have a magic heart-healing potion I can give to him? At what point and how do you tell someone you love that it's time for them to let someone go for good?

yawn

So, I was supposed to do the installation today. Didn't quite get it done, as my trusty assistant (the guy who is unfortunate enough to have to do all the plumbing/electrical part of my work) was held up until late this afternoon, and by the time we worked out the details, it was just too late to get it done. Monday morning, it is.

I was at the studio until 3am finishing all the small details, something I'm rather accustom to at the end of a project. The problem came when I stupidly agreed to pick up my friend at the airport at 5am. Why would I do something so ridiculous? Because he lives in the boonies and his wife took off to Puerto Rico on an impromptu vacation, leaving him stranded. I couldn't make him cab it home, can't imagine what it would have cost him. So I gave up my sleep, caught a cat nap this morning after sitting in all the rush hour traffic from said boonyville, and I'm so very tired that I cannot sleep. Insomnia rules.

Also, CYB is in town for the weekend, and there was no way I was up to going out tonight, but I'll see him tomorrow. I'm beginning to see the positive aspect of boys living far away and popping into town now and then.

Oh, and I'll be switching the layout here at some point because the new blogger beta is up and running. Note the nifty labels at the bottoms of the posts. Something people with other blogging software have had for a long time, and I attempted to do via hacks but I'm a computer moron, people. I needed someone to make it all easy for me. You'll never again have to search for...Man Notes, for example, as eventually, they will all be labelled and easily categorized. Sweet.

the visit

I apologize for my absence online during the past few days. When someone is visiting New York for the first time ever, there is so much to do, the computer just collects dust in the corner. We did lots of touristy things, like museum visiting and tromping around the city. Some of the more unusual (for me) things:

1. Went to a Yankees game last night (where I single-handedly jinxed the game by proclaiming it totally won at the bottom of the 7th inning), and...

2. Got to the game via subway. That's right..the subway. For most people in and around New York, this is a daily activity. I hate the subway. I never take it anywhere. Not only did we descend into the bowels of the city to travel via train, but I, alone, navigated the route. For those of you who are aware of my inadequate sense of direction and my aversion to the subway first hand, try not to stroke-out at this revelation: We got there and back just fine, thank you very much.

I will not be making a habit of it, though. It's still gross and stinky down there. If I lived in Tokyo, where the subway looks and smells like the crew from Disney World maintains it, and there are women-only cars to prevent the subway frottage, it would be worth considering. But alas, I do not live in Tokyo, and I will remain anti-subway. We also did a LOT of walking. My poor feet hurt. Enough of the tour guide niceties you say? Give us the dirt on the man visit?

Ok, here's the thing. Though I referred to him as an "ex", I did so mainly to simplify the nature of our relationship. We've been friends for many years. There was a brief period, just before I got together with the most recent ex, when we tried to let our relationship move beyond friendship. Though he is also good friends with my sister, I decided not to tell her about it because I knew that she would try to use him in her arsenal of weapons to get me to move down there. Life happened, neither of us was ready to completely uproot our lives to move closer to the other, so we remained friends and that was that.

Whenever I go to visit my family, I see him, and ever since I broke up with the ex, he's been asking me why I don't just move down there and marry him. I've never taken it seriously. When I was down there for my niece's christening, my sister discovered the true nature of our relationship, and as I suspected, she attempted to use it to convince me that I was just destined to move and live happily ever after. To say my family knows and loves this guy would be a bit of an understatement.

When we were out with a few of his friends the other night (all transplanted now to nyc), one girl asked how long we've "been together"...an understandable assumption, as we appear to anyone around us to be a couple..very affectionate, we tell stories in tandum, have long standing inside jokes...He explained it best when he replied, "For about 10 years...but, you know, with the occassional split up due to a marriage and divorce somewhere in there". Which pretty much explains it all.

While he was visiting, we talked about it a lot. My feeling, for the time being, is that he is a man who wants to be married, and he wants more kids (he has a 4 year old son). That is vastly different from someone who is so crazy about me that he wants to spend forever and ever (a concept I find a little hard to conceptualize anyway) with me. I'm not ruling it out, I'm just saying...someone may need to point him in the direction of a white horse he can use to do the feet sweeping.

amalgam

Why haven't I posted? Because every time I've begun to, I messed with the layout instead...then I checked emails and read other people's stuff..basically ADD has prevented it. So, here is all the stuff you've missed:

Ex #2 actually has arrived and left, and it was great to see him. I laughed so hard, my ribs hurt. He was only in town for the day, but I'm glad we got to catch up, and to know that I'm still "smokin"...it had been nearly 9 years since he saw me. Good ego boost.

I was visiting my sister for the weekend because it was my niece's christening. I'm the godmother, I sorta had to be there, but in reality, if I have any excuse to see the baby-who-gets-cuter-with-each-passing-minute, I'll take it. She is a crawling expert now, and she thinks being thrown in the air is the most hilarious thing, ever. She is the remedy for my morning crankiness, and I tried to explain to my sister that for this reason alone, she should let me take her home so I could wake up earlier and be more happy and productive. My sister cares not for my life's ambitions, since she refused to give up the child.

Oh, have I mentioned that ex #1 lives near my sister? He does, and I didn't bother to tell him I was coming to town, because I was only there for 2 days and he will be here on Thursday. It just so happened that after I arrived on Saturday, my sister and her husband had to make an appearance at a wedding, and he was there. He obviously found out I was in town (not like I was trying to hide it, just didn't see the point, since I'd be seeing him in a few days), and he came by her place last night to say hi. He also called me tonight to be sure I made it home safe and sound. Yeah, he's super sweet that way. His visit should be interesting.

Which leads me to ask: Is it that all the good men just live really far away, or that they seem so good because they live so far? Hmmmm

In other news...

You'll be happy to know that my Design Star pick won, no doubt due to the dozens of you who bent to my whims and voted for him.

Speaking of tv, have you watched Weeds? If not, you really must. It's right up there with Showtime's other greats, like Brotherhood and the L Word. Ok, there's no gratuitous girl-on-girl action, like on the L Word, but it's still really good. I don't want to hear excuses about not wanting to spend the money on Showtime. If you haven't been living in a cave for the past couple of years, you know that the HBO and SHO series are the only truly great programming on tv. Unless you like stuff like American Idol*, in which case, there is no hope for you.

That plasma cutter I was so excited to get? Never arrived. After I called 4 times, I learned that it was out of stock. Assholes. Cancelled the order because "about 2 weeks" was not acceptable, and the one I ordered through another company should be here in the next day or two.

Ok, that's it for today.


*no, Project Runway is not in the same category as that show. One sucks and the other is great.