With All the Dramatic it Deserves. . .

We were drunk. As sometimes is the case and it was Valentine's Day and possibly our 6 month anniversary. I'm not one to make drama about a day that is pointless and unnecessary. But as a couple I gave him a box of chocolates. In return we drank at the local bar and I saw him put his hand down some slut's pants.

We were drunk. I feel like a 1950s housewife making excuses up for my husband. He works so hard, so what if he likes a few cocktails after dinner? He deserves them. Well we know I am not a housewife and nor is this the 50s. There is more to this story that needs to be told.

The boy was a previous hookup and he was drunk [see there I go again]. I saw it from across the room and I simply shook my head at him. In his drunken stupor he defended his point. The scene quickly shifted to the 2000s and I was in a scene from Jersey Shore.

The night quickly took a nosedive as I became the aggressor and proclaimed the day was done. The people in our party disbanded and The Construction Worker passed out in my bed. At 9 PM.

I sat on the couch at 9:30 wondering. What are the memories I have from this night. I called a good friend and told him the situation. As girls do his advice was excellent, but I fitted it to meet my particular situation. The next day I would discuss this indiscretion and as I figured he had no recollection of the night.

This gives me an upper hand in the scene. If I were a vile person I could manipulate the situation as I see fit. "You did this. . ." and "I saw this . . ."As much as I am a vile person, I care about The Construction Worker more than anyone I can remember. I would never mix up the stories to fit my benefit. Also, I had a pretty good landing to begin with. I told him of his actions and words. How I was finally really beginning to believe that I can trust him and he goes and pulls a silly stunt like that.

He apologized, which was all he could do in the moment and I got what I came for. An apology. There was uncertainty in the air after our first fight. Six months in and this is the first and it really was not a fight. That's good odds. Regardless we all felt off. Granted there was no drinking going on. So perhaps the boring parts of the play are now. Or perhaps the most human moments were then.

He cuddled me and was held. I felt him holding me and thought about other occasions where drama erupts and how I react. The simple word is to "flee". I'd fled so many relationships, some people wonder if I ever really existed at all. Well fuckers, I do! This one though, I feel no need to flee. I want to work on these little issues and dwell on them. Knowing they are manageable, if not dramatic at times. We spoke softly and calmly. I hate yelling so I rarely break into it, but there could've been cause for it in later years when more falls apart. This is just a step right now. I told him what I wanted and in the future if your hands need to go down someones pants. Justifiably so they should be mine. . .

Moral.

This Is What. . .

This must be what love is.

A Valentine Day Massacre

When the heart is lonely it will find company.

I woke up yesterday at 1 PM and was feeling the effects of booze, drugs and go-go boys. Despite that, I decided to run at the gym and live the day normally. My friend told me to ignore that it was Valentine's Day, which is possible to do. How can one ignore roses being sold on the street and giant heart shaped balloons? How can you ignore people holding hands and being more cuddly that normal in public?

I decided once I returned home from the gym that I was going to cook some chicken and see if I could find someone to come over to cook for. I tried asking my Non-Date from the other night, but I don't want to come off as non-needy.

I finally settled on Honey Mustard Chicken with baby carrots. I needed to run to the market though to pick up some missing ingredients. As I entered the market in 3.5 seconds faster than I expected I saw my Neighbor from the Super Bowl. Yes, one of the two who offered to DP me. Oh what a world we live in.

IGUANA: Hey! How are you? (Despondently) Happy Valentine's Day. What are you doing here?

NEIGHBOR: Hey! Just picking up some food. So far I'm making dinner for me, myself and I. What about you?

IGUANA: I'm making dinner for myself tonight. I just needed to get some things. Are you spending tonight with your boyfriend?

NEIGHBOR: No. Just me tonight.

IGUANA: Oh, okay. Well see you later.

Yes, I suddenly had an agenda.

IGUANA: Hey. By the way, can I get your number? My roommate mentioned how you guys wanted to watch Weeds.

NEIGHBOR: Oh yes, no problem. (Rattles off number)

IGUANA: Are you really having dinner alone tonight?

NEIGHBOR: Yes.

IGUANA: Do you-- Uh-- Want to have dinner together?

NEIGHBOR: Yes, of course!

So I ran home and we made plans to meet in a couple of hours. An hour before he texted "I'm buying Rum and Coke, can you get straws?" Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? was cast and ready to go.

I showed up and we drank. And drank. And drank. I drank simply to keep up with him, I knew alcohol was how he kept his nerve. We have more in common than I expected and he loves his boyfriend. His boyfriend also does not sleep with him for reasons I shall keep between us. I'm not in love, nor am I in lust. I just needed the company.

I would write more, but it's his life and he has told me some things. Tips and advice. That can be beneficial to my future. I will see him again, I am sure.

Ending the Night With Something . . .

It was a trying day. I had to work on maintaining a positive demeanor. I did it though, I think I lost myself for a minute, but of an 9 hour day, that's pretty good.

I got a haircut for free. Of that, I am grateful. I played Wardrobe Supervisor pretty well. I started to enjoy myself a little. Oh to be paid for these experiences, it'll be Ecstasy!

My roommate got a gig in Florida. I need a temporary roommate to take her place for April and May. This won't be bad, but it's a little stressful. I'm totally proud of her for getting a job and to get to go to Florida, I envy that. I will be here, and someone must fill that bedroom.

Tomorrow I get my blood taken. Those 7-10 vials are always an unexplainable feeling. It's weird to not have that worried week after. Where you wonder if you find out the results. What will you do? No there is no worry about that. Now it becomes a fun game of numbers. What is up and what is down.

My numbers have been steady, my doctor doesn't make a big fuss about anything. I can't figure out if it's a good thing or not. In a way I want to know. I know many people who have their numbers memorized from test to test.

I just know that I will hopefully be healthier. I wonder. Let it be known, they have been pretty good to date. Famous last words.

Saturday is Valentine's Day. I don't know how I feel about this. I just don't know. I won't have a Valentine, I may go see Coraline with my friends. That sounds like a stellar day indeed! Who knows. These days anything is possible.

Mandatory Post Valentines Day Post

Valentine's Day consisted of me waking up at 6 am and running 4.30 (my longest yet) miles in 30 mins. Then somewhere around 8:40 am I decided I will proceed to get stoned before my creative writing class. It's funny what days that involve love do to you. I suppose some back story is needed here.

I've been in college for 329 years and I'm still going strong! No, it's my 4th year, but not finished (as usual) and I'm taking creative writing. There's a girl in my class, she's an English major and has one of the sourest dispositions I have ever seen. There's never really a positive remark she can make. It's always something dour and annoying that comes from her mouth. Understand why I got stoned? Not yet? I'll continue...

So a couple of classes ago someone brought up how in many of the stories we've been reading the author's have used Pot in negative ways. Like a lazy character on disability would rather get stoned than confront the issues with his wife ("Shiloh"). Or this character who is nervous about meeting a blind man, offers him a joint to smoke ("Cathedral"). Along with some other stories. I simply offered my advice and said, "I feel using pot is more of a device to alleviate the characters of their nerves." Meaning that this man is nervous, when you're stoned usually you're less nervous and more open. Or with the guy on disability, sure he's a stoner, but that's the character.

So the Sour Lemon raises her hand and says, "Well it's obvious, in my life most people I've come in contact with who smoke a lot of pot are unmotivated and do nothing with their lives." What shocked me more is the teacher got very flustered at every ones discussion about what they believed pot to mean in the stories and quickly changed the topic.

Now, perhaps that's true. As I look in a mirror and ask myself, "Are you motivated?"

Her comment irked me, I admit. So I decided to go to class stoned. Honestly, I am just looking for any excuse nowadays. No, seriously it was a silent protest. I didn't outwardly raise my hand and tell the class, "I am high as a kite and just TRY and reel me in!" I contributed to class, I raised my hand and I remembered no more or less than what normally is said in class. Hell, the fact I was in school was proof enough that not all people who are stoners are unmotivated.

Well that story is done, now onto Valentines Day. The Tall Man arrived around 9 to pick me up. Before that I sewed, I watched Meet Me In St. Louis and I don't know how I haven't seen this movie sooner! Oh Judy, when I think you'd topped yourself you just get more and more entrancing to me.

It was a quiet night really. We went out for Middle Eastern Cuisine. I listened to his life, his roommate is moving to New Zealand for HIS boyfriend. Which is ultimately romantic, but puts the Tall Man in an odd position finding a new roommate. I gave him his book, which he loved. And that made me smile.

(This is where I brag)We had mirror sex* and then went to sleep. Then had morning sex and went to work.(okay done bragging)


Now I'm at work and thus concludes my mandatory Valentine's Day post...It was nice that Judy got to spend Valentine's Day with me. No, honestly she is amazing in Meet Me In St. Louis. I never need Judy was sassy from day one. Okay not day one, but day 14,556 when she met Vincent and was asking her dresser, "Is he queer?" Honestly Judy, the makeup and effeminate mannerisms weren't enough? I can't complain for Liza wouldn't be here without him as well. God I'm out gaying myself and hardly trying.

* Mirror sex is just like it sounds. I always feel narcissistic when it happens, yet I went with it. It's all smoke and mirrors at the end of the day.

Strange Emotions

I don't know why I'm so worried. I always get worried when I go to the doctor and get various tests done. Tomorrow I will find out and I'll know for sure whether I have anything to really be worried about.

It's just that things have been so calm (relatively) for a while now that I feel I'm overdue for some big upset. Not that I necessarily deserve something that BIG nor do I expect it. Don't think that I'm insinuating that. We've all made weak choices at times in our lives and thusly it's for moments of truth like this that we start to get nervous. That is all.

Here I am on Valentine's Day, with an actual Valentine and I'm close to tears because the idea that tomorrow could hypothetically be the last time I ever see this Valentine again. It's difficult to be upset and cryptic at the same time. It's also difficult being born of a stock that worries to much.

In other news: Next to Normal has been reviewed to mixed reviews. They don't say it's horrible, but as I excepted the subject matter causes it to really be enjoyable. I look at Spring Awakening and wonder how we turned a blind eye last year? The songs are a little in your face some reviews say. Once again I look at Spring Awakening. I enjoy that show, I really do...but yes, no defending that. Plus what is with that awful song in the end with the purple mountains. Maybe I missed something. Oh is it because this subject matter is present today, while that show took place in 1890? Paging Mr. Ledger, paging.

I just hope they record the show, that's all I want is a legitimate recording of it. That's all. In other news East of Eden is going to be an epic one I can tell. Woo boy will it be. I am back into the world of regular reading. Out of the land of wizards. What's funny is when I read, I read for myself. I personally don't care if anyone else reads East of Eden or that I was the only one who read Harry Potter 7 months after it's popularity died out.

Yet, I find people are always telling me, "You MUST read this!" To which I always respond, "I have a reading agenda and I'm sorry, but I'll put it on queue. I can't promise I'll get to it anytime soon." Rarely does a book get pushed ahead. Okay, a little more than rarely. Yet all the time of Harry Potter I kept pretending that Perfume would be read before East of Eden (EoE), yet I purchased EoE without even batting a literary eyelash.