Differing Opinions

It's the first picture that has been taken of us as a couple. In Miami. It was sweet and someone posted it on facebook. I was excited to have it and made it my main profile picture. The Construction worker is so private. He is extremely private. He told me I have unearthed his privacy for the world to see. The photo was pulled up on a computer in his coffee shop. He was shocked and embarrassed. Why would anyone put a picture of them with their boyfriend as a main picture on facebook? All these thoughts went through his mind while I sat at work, proud of my new picture.

He told me it bothered him. It seems to have really bothered him. I apologized and took the photo down. He still wanted to press the issue. I told him to slow his reminders. I know what I have done wrong and I understand the line that has been crossed.

Ah, privacy. Oh, love! How these things happen and make it all the more complicated over a simple issue. He used text as his form of confronting. What a way to deal with an issue. In 140 characters or less.

Dead Floral Tributes

I have a small Off-Broadway play I am getting paid an equally small stipend for. Paid work is better than free work. Despite the fact it's two jobs for the price of one. I can do this, I am stronger than you think. I am Assistant Stage Manager and Wardrobe Dresser. I am the Alpha and the Omega. I am the beginning and the end.

Lena Horne has died. This saddens me, I am uploading her Broadway show to listen to tomorrow.

I went to Miami for the weekend. Glamor! It was the preview to Greece. I bite my tongue when I observe how older people act. They are fun, but there is a feeling that the Ice Man Cometh at times.

I wrote the above about two weeks ago.

I come to you now. It's a simple and strange life I lead. I am discovering the idea of dating, loving, being with someone. I am still trying to understand it. We're going on to 10 months and before you know it, it will indeed be a year. How funny, the year has flown. Time does move faster as you get older.

Tonight was a first. The Construction Workers life has been difficult, as most of ours has been. He's been drinking . . .much more than I would necessarily enjoy. I see why, I know why. I am often the sober one, why is this? Is it because I am keeping my eye on him? I want to seem mature? A mixture of those feelings. Tonight he went to a birthday party at a private apartment. So the alcohol was flowing and free. We drank. We all drank. He drank more and had eaten nothing.

We finally decided to head home. I had my bike. I love my bike, it's loyal to me. This year has been a big year of changing. I got a kitten and have raised it. I have a bike that I ride religiously and I have a boyfriend. I obviously am into changing myself. I am open to learning. Moments will come and they will be part of life. Tonight is one of those nights.

I used to drive upstate all the time. I am king of the speeding tickets! I even had to attend a defensive driving class! I am notorious upstate! The Construction Worker was drinking, much more than I expected. My bike was in the back of his car. "We need to take a car service home. I can't drive." I was happy he made this decision on his own, but my bike! I needed my bike for tomorrow morning. As I stay up past two AM, I wonder if will be riding tomorrow. I shall though, it's the only constant I know I can control these days.

I told him. "I can drive." I was saying it! I've always had this immobilizing fear of driving in the city.

Now you may be wondering, was he drunk? No. I was in the conscious mind. I was alert and knew that my bike was in the backseat. I needed it. The construction worker is imperfect. He is going through hard times too. He lacks the sense to judge what is too much drink, what is dumb in choosing drinking over eating. In the 40 years of his life he has kept these ideals true.

It pains me to see this. In my youth I have been through plenty. People who know me, know this much is true. I haven't experienced nearly enough in my years, but the things I have gone through are beyond experience. I have taken a year of therapy to comfort myself into this feeling. I have attended support groups. I am a whole being and even in my youth I just am bothered by this.

Here I am. A 24-year-old. Who fears driving in the city. Has NEVER driven in the city. Is volunteering to drive his drunk boyfriend home. In all honestly he couldn't drive and I knew I could. I am not a complete dependent. I can drive and I have seen him take the route home plenty of times. I felt like I held my breath the entire time. I was so tense, but I did it. I got to my apartment. Listening to Lady Gaga on the radio. I have driven my mother's SUV plenty of times, but his car is larger and more broken down. The side mirrors are falling off and the rear view mirror is atrocious. I did it though. Kudos for me. Sadness to the Construction Worker.

I am faced with his weakness. The bottle. In all my drugs, all my addictions. I can understand why a lost soul like myself would go astray. Here is a man who has done it all. Built and sold businesses, lived on a boat, promoted the best clubs in NYC, and all these other successes. To see him in a state is what makes a partner feel human. There is his weakness, his battle, his truth.

I know what ails him. The thing which I could easily make discussion about and yet I slightly avoid it. I am trying to understand it. I know he is not an alcoholic, he has even defended it at times. I know how he feels. I do feel I should speak though, there is my worries. I worry. I will mention it tomorrow.

You drove his car home for him. That's not something that has happened everyday. This is the third event you were waiting for. It shakes you because you had to do it, yet the act itself was a simple event. You care for him and that's what any lover would do in the case. Your personal fears do not reflect the actual setting in place. This man has lived his entire life in the city, but he let you drive home. Oh the dilemma!

Keep Rolling On

The robbery was a lot to deal with. Filing a police report complete with many different phone calls and being put on hold. It seems that filing a police report is the key to everything. They are sending me a replacement iPod. In my mind iPod's take $4 to actually put together. $179.00 to sell. So they'd sooner mail me another one, despite the fact it was stolen in the mail. So I am sending it to a friends place, that comes complete with a doorman who holds all packages. Success!

The boy who I thought would be my future roommate is having some financial problems. He has given fears of doubt and I understand that. Life is full of understanding moments. It's full of tests of meditation. So I must continue my search for a new roommate. One of life's greatest trials. Onward ho!

I have placed an ad in the paper and responses are coming in. It's overwhelming.

Rainy Nights and Days

It's been raining all night and day. It's been aggravating and has forced me to stay inside for most of the night. I've been stir crazy and watching episodes of The Office and playing video games. I feel like I've taken a vow of silence, there is no one around. Except Bumble, who doesn't make much conversation.

The days have been filled with confusion and a fear of the future. In a recent play I saw there was a line that was said, "Life is full of pain, but it's up to you if you want to do the suffering." In the mediocre show, this line was sappy, but appreciated. Especially when it was spoken by Tallulah Bankhead by way of Valerie Harper. That's how I have been feeling life is right now, full of painful moments. Though I'm trying valiantly not to suffer to much.

I talked with The Construction Worker about my fears about myself. I am trying to accept the fact that I've met a man who has my best interests in mind. It felt slightly pitiful to realize all these fears are in my head. I have such a difficult time articulating myself. I fear for my apartment situation. I fear for my financial future. I fear for a lot of things.

Which way is home?

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.

Since Last I Had Written

I rechecked my last entry to realize how much has and has not happened. That job cannot be playing me. It's been over a week and I've heard nothing since they promised me the position was mine again. I am glad I invested no worry into it. No, none whatsoever.

Then the Construction Worker's stalker has returned. Yes. That very day of my good news we went to the local bar and who was sitting there. Oh the psychological thriller that began in my head was enough to baffle anyone. Someday I may write a play based on the night that went on.

The stalker moved closer down the bar until finally he became part of our group. I kissed the worker on the lips in front of the stalker. An act of drunken courage and lack of thought. The Construction Worker had a soliloquy about his misfortune in finding a stalker. "How does one realize the person they get involved with will stalk them." True, so true.

I agreed to do a Five-Borough Bike Tour with my Brother on May 6th. I need to find a better bike by then. Mission go!

Crock Pot

I didn't go into work today because I wasn't feeling well when I awoke. Last night we went bowling and The Construction Worker revealed that he was in some major leagues when he was in high school. He bowled a 222 to my 99. He could do that spin on the ball and make himself get strikes. I believe that he's some kind of wizard.

I awoke this morning, later in the day because I felt so groggy at 6 AM. I began cooking a pork shoulder, because I intend to make Pulled Pork Sandwiches. I also made some brownies, as well as homemade coleslaw. The onion rings will go into the oven and I'll ring the bell when the food is ready. You know it takes a while to make that pork shoulder tender.

I will return to work tomorrow, because one must work. One must. The day of cooking was a domestic purge and incredibly fun. I like making food, but in a Martha Stewart kind of way. Not in a job sense. I just feel like I need to keep house.

The kitten has his adulthood and begun to hump things. I relate the feelings I have with Bumble, as a mother must feel with a child. I want to love him, but he terrifies me. Now he's a man, only six months after I've taken him in.

The Honeymoon is Ending

Last night, while drinking The Construction Worker decided it would be a good time to go through some issues that have been bothering him. I appreciate honesty, I've read enough Albee to know the best truth is an inebriated confession.

The first issue was about my picture on some websites. How I revealed unladylike truths and some people in his social circle were beginning to question him. He's a private man and I respect that. I suddenly felt very nervous, because I knew of one site and the Construction Worker insisted it was a different website. I suddenly through it could be this very venue in which I type. Would I have to get rid of this? No one reads this anyway.

Then I began to wonder what kind of gay Terrance McNally play I was in. Someone confessing my secrets to the Worker because they want him to know he is with a once dangerous Lolita type. I told him I would check my past and erase these old relics. He told me not to worry about it more than that very conversation.

Then he brought up my lack of etiquette. This one thing I found amusing. I use my fork and knife incorrectly. I know this and it has never entered my mind that some people would find it offensive. According the Construction Worker, in some social circles. The fact that I switch the fork to my other hand when I cut my meat. It's an insult?

What a wicked creature am I? To have been throwing out threats to everyone around me when I eat in public. I agreed to be trained in the way of proper fork holding. This is what relationships are all about, learning from your partner.

Then came the final issue. At this point, my hide was rough from all the issues at hand [and the sex] and listened as to why I mentioned I liked him more after therapy. I explained my future and the uncertainty of it all. In June, I will be changing apartments and losing benefits. Things will be unstable. I feel weird trusting in someone when I feel like a wreck.

At therapy I simply just spoke of Andrew and what was going on with thoughts. I take the future in stride, taking things as they come. Yet, I still worry. It's my upbringing. He told me that it will all be okay and I should not worry. This is partnership and being with someone. This is trusting.

By Any Other Name Would Still be a Rose

This is a picture of my boyfriend's stalker. He sent it to me one day along with a four page letter this kid wrote for him. I don't need to worry because I've been told he joined the army. Though his letter (which was written in October) says he may not continue with it.

Now, for those of you who know my background. This is the second guy I've dated who has a stalker. It's left me with a few thoughts and queries that I just want to get out in the open. Be there an answer to them or not.

I wonder how someone could feel so obsessed with someone to the point of carving their names into a tree outside of the apartment that the Construction Worker was building. Or that he got one phone call when he joined the army and he called The Construction Worker. Is there some sort of dreamworld they live in? I was told that the boy was only a hookup, but then it grew into this deranged gifts and him getting followed into bars.

I sometimes wonder what would happen if this boy doesn't go into the army and just suddenly appears one day. Would he try to kill me? Or ruin my life. The only difference between the first stalker and the second is the man attached. The Construction worker is coming from a different place and this said stalker has yet to appear.

When he does, I hope it ends up like this. . .

I Told You It Was Epic

I have been reading a lot of Maya Angelou lately. Her life speaks to me. The trials and her insights just ring true on a human level. Being a dancer in a strip joint, just by being true to herself. She does these jobs she hates, she marries and divorces. Why does she wed, "Because he asked me." So decided in her ways, she reflects later when the time is right.

I begin another temping job tomorrow. There is the rumor it will be for "a couple of months." That comes as a breath of air. The alleged hours are 8 to 4 pm, which is even better. Tomorrow when I go, all this could change on a dime. Nothing is certain, but I will stay true and work.

The Construction Worker and I have been dating for about 5 months now. It's a steady companionship, with delightful sex, that has yet to grow boring. At least from my perspective. He's a Pieces, which means he will stray. I mentally prepare myself for it, but never fully acknowledging it. Like a guest at a party. I could talk to any number of personalities, but I'll avoid that specific one.

He had an invite to a wedding, but I'm not yet at the "plus one" status. I'll stay home and get my kitten spayed instead. Little Bumble Beeson is getting his balls clipped. I think he's otherwise engaged. Retarded. Suddenly I'm Bette Midler as Jacqueline Susan in that movie about her life. I'll write a novel while I take care of my slow kitten. Making him a eunuch.

Hallowaning

Halloween was actually very mild this year. Most of my friends went to the other coast to celebrate. Since I'm in that dating mood I have been spending it with the Construction Worker. It's all very calm, but the nights go until 3/4 AM. In these days of unemployment, it is fun, but slowing down is in order. He does pay for most of it, which is kind and I appreciate. I do throw in cash every now and then.

Yet, dating the Construction Worker is like having a discount card. I can have a nice meal for 20 bucks instead of $50. I can take taxis home for 5 bucks instead of 30. Of course there is more to him that I like than that.

We went to two mild parties and a bar that was crowded. I asked this homo if he was Bea Arthur and I won the prize of his company to the diner at 2 AM. He was drunk and it was the end of the night. He took of his Dorothy apparel and was wearing gold la-may underneath. Was this supposed to be his sexy outfit underneath? He had a voice that was borderline grating. Now, I am not one to judge people's vocal inflections. I of the loud mouth and the obvious comments. He also was drunk and I was not, yet I was wearing short shorts and here I am making judgements.

Why Do I Do Things, I Never Mean To Do. . .

I am utilizing the Google Task bar in hopes of motivating myself to do more. If it's written down and constantly reminding me. I will be less likely to ignore the things I put off with a hand gesture. It's so difficult though when no one returns your phone calls or acknowledges your existence at all.

I cannot sleep right now because I feel nervous. Odd, nervous because tomorrow is Monday. The beginning of another week. Maybe the work will come in, maybe the feelings will lift. Maybe. There's so many maybes. There's a lot of wonder. If I could only take life by the balls.

As the Construction Worker simply said, "It's only phone calls." Phone calls with people who don't speak proper English. I will admit openly, I am not the brightest star, I can follow a direction and carryout protocol to perfection. Get a grade and I have it, read a book and I'll do it.

Expect me to make up my mind and choose what to do next. Are you mad? I was raised to follow rules and directions. There's no one to follow but myself now, and I just want things to be. I don't want to make phone calls, phone calls terrify me. The things I'm looking for are not taught in any classrooms. Oh goodness.

I Must Keep Optomistic.

Getting an elusive interview. For a 15 minute meeting, smiling and thinking about how you want to be happy to fold shirts for the next three months. Everything is temporary these days, no one is permanent. It's something and it's saving up money for better things.

I would love to fold shirts all day. Be enthusiastic all day. Smile, smile. I just want a paycheck. I'll smile till my fingers bleed. Though the correlation, I may even work through Christmas if I can. I know it may be cruel, I just don't want to think about things. I've acquired all a married woman can take. Except a job, so work is fine with me.

I Shall Remarry. . .

He called me his boyfriend. Tra-la. For the first time in years. Will wonders never cease? He's invited me to Greece come this June. Oh mamma, I may be going to Greece. I need to save up money!

It's all so trivial, but simple and nice. We enjoy the company and he's quiet, but he likes to have me around. Oh we shall see, we shall see.

Vannnnnilllllllaaaa iiiiiiccccceeeeecrrrrrrreeeeeaaaammm.

It's Fall

I've been getting all the biking I can, while the weather permits. It's been very chilly, but there's something nice about the lack of people I deal with while riding a bike. Not to mention the sweating. The sweating just feels refreshing.

I've been actively applying to jobs daily, which is both annoying and productive. I'm just trying to make my time useful while this trial continues. Hopefully by the end of this week it will end, we are going onto week three.

I went to the Equality March in Washington D.C. I really enjoyed being with my friends and marching to make a point. My favorite speakers were Angela Green and Charles King who spoke on HIV and AIDS. What upset me though was that all the people left after Lady Gaga spoke, and though I liked her little speech, it was nowhere as powerful as the other speakers.

King and Green both talked about the war on HIV and AIDS. How it's not dead and the infection rates will continue increasing if nothing is done. I've decided I am going to write them an email telling them how much their speech affected me, and how I want to partake in this fight. King said at the end of the speech that he was declaring today that AIDS is our fight. I want to help in that fight. We shall see where this brings me. For the first time in months I felt something that made me excited.

This Halloween I am going to be a version of Little Red Riding Hood. This idea came to me because the construction worker affectionately calls me Little Red and I call him the Wolf. He just looks like one, but in the sexist of ways. Unfortunately, all my friends will be in California, so I need to find a place to show off my costume.

Switched Off. . .

The trial goes on and on. Oh it's truly to much to take, unfortunately until a verdict it reached, that's as far as I can talk about.

Tomorrow I am going to Washington D.C. for the Equality March for Same-Sex Marriage. It will be my first time in Washington D.C. and for such a reason as this, one can only wonder how this trip will turn out. I'm expected to find a bus in midtown (a location that I still do not know where) at 6 AM. I have an online ticket and Maya Angelou to keep me company. As well as some fun friends and their mothers!

The kitten is in this stage of hate. I purchased a spray bottle and have had to use it on several occasions. Bumble seems to have taken an angry response. He won't really go near me or let me pet him anymore. Yet, I can't let him bite wires and nip at my fingers. Therefore, when he sees my hand is justifiably terrified that he will get spritzed in the face with my ray gun!

I suppose a swift and just parent is better than a parent a lazy and parent who spoils. Oh well, I hope he accepts the fact that I am his benefactor as well as his disciplinarian.

Last night I saw a one woman show with the Construction Worker and an older friend of his. Along with that friend's sorted gay friends. Oh, the gay life! He then spent the night and we slept together. It seems so simple. He's a busybody and he works most days, he never hangs out at the apartment. He has buildings to build and contractors to deal with.

We cuddle and I try to please without spilling to many tears. It seems so easy and calm. He's turning 40 in March and he wants to rent a yacht and take several friends on it to some place warm and far away. I have until March, but was he inviting me? Or simply throwing out the suggest, "Save up kid. I don't stay for breakfast and I won't cover your tab on this adventure."

What's a Yacht? Some kind of dragon? People can rent Yachts with kitchen staff and crew! That fee is in someone's pocketbook? I can handle the price of two tickets to a one woman show, but to an island. Let me call my temp agency for extra work. . . I'll see you in March. It's curiously simple and I don't necessarily want it to become complex.

I will not worry about a yacht. A yacht is about as common of a used word as taint. Everyone recognizes that it's a dirty word, but no one really know how to properly describe what it actually is.

Now Is The Moment

The Construction Worker is laying in my bed, puking and trying to calm a hangover. He's a hot mess, which makes this the first time I feel somewhat in control. Which makes it sound maniacal in this twisted way.

Alas, it's what it is. I should just keep quiet, he's conscience but drunk. This I have never experienced with someone I'm dating. It's all new, the entire thing is new. Oh so much to take in this. Wifely duty.

The Normalcy . . .

What did my parents teach me about life? What did I ever learn about becoming an adult from them? It perplexes me as to why I thought there were some lesson plans they taught me, like in school. About dating, work and love. All that crap. The question of the hour is "What does Iguana want?"

He wants a kitten. He got one and now it's like that movie with Diane Keaton gets a baby. She uses the baby to her advantage and makes a fortune off of baby food. I wish to use the kitten to my advantage and teach it to dance with me. Then tragedy will strike. Right now he's sitting next to me curled up and loving the heat coming off my thigh.

I never figured myself a cat person. I never figured myself much of an "any kind" of person. As my therapist tells me, "Who told you there were rules to life?" My parents. My suburban life.

So I like cats now. If he'll always be like this and not scared of me, then I gladly take on the responsibility.

Iguana also wants a boyfriend. The Construction Worker has been making himself more known. Which is not unwanted. He comes and spends the night and tells me there's no need for sex every night. I stop and pause at this thought.

It's an old thought to me. I remember a time when I could happily live with this idea, but I have rubbed away those thoughts and instilled a nervous sexuality.

Postcards from the Edge

How have I been doing? That's a good question. A good question indeed.

I have spent hours in waiting rooms, I have more temp work. I've been trying to overcome this unconscious fear of applying for dresser jobs. My bike broke, then I fixed it. I think.

I went upstate this last weekend and ate more than humanly possible. I've been seeing the Construction Worker more than the Georgia Peach. I don't want to narrow it down just yet, but I do feel I'm giving more attention to one than the other.

There's this uncertainty in the air, perhaps it's the fall weather. I don't know, things have shifted. Weights and balances in the universe, I guess they shift. Things are wilting and dying. It's mildly depressing in this beautiful way. The color that is created through the death of leaves.

I watched the MTV Music awards and think that Lady Gaga is the best performer. . .ever. What was the blood dripping down her chest. That was planned? How brilliant.