21 posts tagged “boyfriend”
and i still managed a nap... OHhhh the freedom of a day-shift Friday!
everyone wants us to have a wedding but here's what i figure:
Last weekend C proposed to me, in a very sweet and ordinary way. I said yes. we'll be a sweet and ordinary married couple, someday soon, and i'm very much looking forward to it. being ordinary has never seemed much fun from the outside, but it sure as hell suits me. i could lay on the couch with my head on C's lap, watching Cold Case, or Poker After Dark, just about forever. I could die that way, and it could be ok.
I KNOW I KNOW.
i'm so melodramatic sometimes! the emotional clouds have cleared, more or less, and i enjoyed some coffee and some soup, some petting of my miraculous cat, and a few episodes of 30-rock with my man who won't yet admit to liking a show i like. he also 'hangs around' when House is on. very noncommittal, won't sit on the sofa, but clearly engaged.
tonight, i work. then in the AM i'm heading out to run 10 miles with my running group and a Special Guest, AllMyBase. THEN, I'm going to knoxville to do some dancing. should be ok. should be good.
thanks for the get-happy messages, it's working :)
xo
ps if you're wondering where i've been; mostly on facebook. sue me. that site is like crack-cocaine.
hi.
a couple things happened today, which have caused me to reflect, rethink, but mostly reflect.
1) one of paul's friends contacted me on facebook, and says he wants to hear 'our story' (as i had referenced it once on Paul's obituary web-page guest book site). OUR story. as in the story of paul and me, the whole heartbreaking, spirit crushing fifteen-year mess of it, in all its excruciating, gory detail....
the truth is, i would love to tell this story. for one, it's a good story. Paul was full of surprises. for another.. gawd. i deeply DEEPLY need to get this out of my system. It's not enough to tell it here, i want to tell it to someone and please please, hear them say, 'i know. i get it. it was like that.' i need someone else out there to have felt as afraid and powerless as i did, to have loved him as cautiously as i did. i want someone to relate. Is that even possible? or did he and i exist in some weird vacuum and i'm forced to forever and ever remember it all alone?
So i emailed the guy and explained that this story could really challenge his memories of Paul. and if he wants to hear it, i'll write it up and send it. but he is forewarned, forearmed.
we will see.
2) i was going thru my old posts.. i've written so many about paul and wanted to see if there was anything there i could simply cut and paste. of course there was nothing appropriate.. there's a level of anguish that just feels so right in one moment, and totally overwraught and exposing in the next. Not suitable for public consumption. barely suitable for my own.
3) my boyfriend is awesome, and it makes him feel bad that i'm still 'hung up' on some 'ex'. but paul wasn't an ex, in the strict sense. and in any case i don't feel hung up because he was the one i couldn't 'get', just because he was the one i couldn't 'save'. I was never meant to save him, i guess. but that's a really tough heartache to carry around. i had so many chances... didn't i? but i have a feeling it always was going to end this way. but really, wasn't there something?
I will never know.
4) totally unrelated to paul-drama.. I used to actually blog. i actually had opinions, once. and an interesting way of phrasing them. moving to tennessee has made everything easy and I've gotten complacent. My job is great, my bf is fantastic, and i can't even complain about traffic or coworkers anymore. it's all very .. NICE.
i need some conflict. just a bit.
Growing up poor sucks. Growing up poor and KNOWING you are poor, is probably one of the worst things that could happen to a girl, to a young girl, a teenage girl who wants nothing more than a 'Guess?' label on her backside, and a real jansport backpack.
I remember the shame of 'school shopping' at YellowFront and Pic-N-Save, hoping no one i knew would see me, in order to stretch the last mile out of my single-mom's meager wages. Every 'irregular' tee-shirt, cheap as it was, was a gallon of milk and a box of cereal, and my brother and i knew that as well then as we do now. we looked at the cost of things like this in terms of.. packs of ramen noodles, and school lunches (reduced, in case there was any question-- yes we were so poor even the government noticed.). we measured our lives day to day, rent check to rent check, and meal to meal.. everything else was a luxury.. (but never luxury.)
All i wanted was a pair of Keds. REAL keds with the blue label... like everyone else. I knew how to do the laces up and everything, I knew how to be cool, if I had the keds to be cool with. If i had keds, I would run through the yard a few times, so people, so the girls, would know they weren't new and I wasn't showing off! .. no! i'd had them like, you know. for a while. I don't know! i mean, I have so many pairs of keds it's not like i keep track..!! DUH!
Keds are 30 dollars now. they were closer to 20 then, but they may as well have been a million dollars, because there was NO WAY I was ever going to get $20. There was NO WAY mom could afford it, and even if she could there was NO WAY I could justify something like that to myself, when my brother didn't have a twenty-dollar-shoe of his own. How could I be so selfish??? So I never dreamed of asking.
A few times, I got almost-keds. We'd spend five bucks on a pair of something at yellow front, and the seams would bust, or the lace-eyelets would snap out and worst of all, once the entire sole came off and I spent weeks? months? gluing it back together with epoxy because almost-keds were better than whatever else I had. (by the way, epoxy doesn't work so great on rubber)
My first pair of legitimate, blue-label keds, came to me as a blessing from fate and the heavens. My mom picked up the wrong load of white laundry at the laundrymat. I started to get upset but found that the laundry we ended up with was way cooler than anything I had sent off. A few really cute shirts fit me, and ONE PAIR OF WHITE KEDS, perfect, in my size.. I felt bad for a second, taking these things that didn't belong to me, and feeling bad for the girl who lost the shoes and ended up with my crap..
But then I figured.. she had keds!! She has enough.. she could have anything or everything and the whole world, and cable tv and a private jet, probably. She won't miss one pair of shoes. She probably has a hundred more just like them, and Guess? jeans and a real trapper-keeper and an 'Esprit' bag. I don't feel bad for her. and anyway it's not like we could find her if we were looking for her! it's a laundrymat.
...
Time passed. I grew up a lot, fueled by a fiery desire to finish my life a lot better than I started it. I went to college, got great jobs. I have the things I want, and money to save for the things I want later... I have enough. i have plenty. I have a pair of keds (bought and paid for!), and about 15 other name-brand shoes to fill the gaping void in what's left of my thirteen-year-old heart. I can buy whatever I want, whenever I want, and I don't have to feel guilty or ashamed of it..
... But..
when I see a pair of cheap discount shoes pretending to be something they're not, it brings me right back to that sad, insecure little girl in Pic N Save, afraid that everyone will know I'm poor, desperate, pretending-- and not even very good at it.. It reminds me of the years I went without, and the promises I made never to let myself or my loved ones feel that way-- we will not settle for less than we deserve. I have worked too hard to allow it.
So, my love, my one true love who doesn't want to see my cry, please don't buy those shoes. they're poorly made, and they will dissapoint you. I don't want to imagine for a second that you feel as obligated and ashamed and as destitute as I was when I had to wear them. I can't bear it. we deserve better.
... i mean, maybe it's no big deal, but this impresses me soooo much. Considering how long I dated guys whose biggest skills comprised a) flying a giant kite b) karaoke c) binge drinking d) beating XX level of $someLameMultiplayerGame .. i think this is probably a big fat WIN for me. for us.
Bf showed me two chords on his guitar. E-minor and.. a different one. I remember neither of them, really. I'm not really a music-person, and although I talk about getting a little tiny pink guitar of my own to bang around on, really I just pick his up every now and again because i like the look on his face, sort of a cross between wonder and mild amusement, and yet still worried that i may fuck it up. the guitar, that is, not the music. You'd think it was a beating human heart... There's just this look like i've got something sacred in my hands, and he thinks i have no idea.
I have some idea.
So anyway it's 4:30 am, and i'm making efforts to stay up, again. I've watched 3 episodes of dexter, and bought/burned some disks from i-tunes. Now, I think i'll go take a nice bath, then flat iron my hair in preparation for another day.. another week.
Jonas is laying on the vacuum (love-hate thing) and snoring. gawd he's cute.
i'm in one of those MOODS i get into every so often where i hate everyone and deliberately say things to piss people off and then feel persecuted when they all call me a bitch.
(i feel like there was a lot more to say about that, but the above actually sums it up really well. )
i got the devil again. I say two blue prayers every morning to keep me holy, but the devil always wins. he wins so much lately, i start to wonder if he was winning all along and i was too busy to notice.
i got home at six am and the boys were fighting.. Darling BF was asleep in bed with the door closed and Jonas couldn't get in to snuggle at his feet the way he likes. I tried to bring him in to sleep, but BF was adamant, no, my little jabesywabesy would not be sleeping in our room, tonight... apparently they had a fight resulting in a quarter-sized bruise.
baby needs more iron
Jonas is old, and there's no way I was gonna let him sleep on the floor all alone, so i curled up on the couch for a few hours of almost-sleep. BF woke me at 10am and sent us both to bed. where i slept like a rock, and gangbusters.
it's almost 4 and i still haven't put on a shirt. it's not as attractive as you might think (sickos and ps my DAD reads this blog). I just had a cup of coffee and a peach. I hate peach fuzz. that's why god made the nectarine.
thank god for nectarines.
I will pay you cash money to quit that internship. (and no 14+ hour days!)
I love you. come home safely.
PS we need dishsoap. is it supposed to be that color? khaki?
See you tonight.
mwah.
me
