read the post below first...it's funny...this is just an update.

So...
I'm coniving. I know John likes me to wear pigtails. I know we broke up. I busted out the camera phone, took a bunch of pigtail pics, posted them on my Myspace and waited.

I just got a text from John.

"Your pigtails look super cute :) "

I replied with a nonchalant, "Thanks"
Then I got, "I'll be in the Cornfield this afternoon, wanna grab a beer?"
Update at 11:52 am

I get a message from John not five minutes ago. "Your new pics gave me a raging boner. That is all." Now, I hate the term boner, but at least I hit the primal nerve, if I can get him back in bed...I can get him back. And I aim to keep him.
Oh it's on. I'm not going down without a fight.

PS. when did I start saying, "oh it's on"? I did it in the last post too...who am I?

Alternately titled: Saturdays of the Idle Poor


Every Saturday for countless Saturdays now, I would wake up around noon. I don't go to bed until 6am on the weekends because my girl T is a sleep vampire, she refuses to let me sleep. It is my duty to drink until 6, and then (if and only if I put the lotion in the basket) I'm allowed to slumber for a few brief hours. I'd wake up, I'd rape my boyfriend (it is rape when he's still partially asleep right? Because that's what I was going for). Then I would get up and begin alternating between Molson and aspirin (tylenol + beer= bad kidneys and liver, aspirin +beer= divine, er no, perhaps not...but anyways). John would stumble down the stairs unable to sleep due to T (and sometimes Chelle if she stays over) and my own excessive and supersonic cackling...true enough, he couldn't actually hear the cackle until it passed overhead, but it was heard nonetheless.

We'd play a little Catchphrase...decide upon pizza, Chinese or the truly intrepid now ex-boyfriend, would dig in my fridge. Apparently, my fridge smells like the House of 1,000 Corpses and I think it's grossing more in DVD sales. We'd chow down, shoo the dog away as she attempted to swipe the Lo Mein and we would watch mindless television, all the while quoting Old School even though it wouldn't be on. (An aside...John and I once watched Old School three times back to back. It's a horrible thing when you have two highly obsessive/addictive personalities in one room). Oh and by the way, "I'm here for the gang bang". Ok, got my Old School quote fix in.

At around 4pm I would take a phone call from my mother that would go as such:
Mom: Are you drunk? Is John there drinking with you?
Me: (Cackle, cackle, slurry slurry cackle) Noooo, I'm not drunk! And yes! John's here...John get your hand out of my pants when I'm talking to my mom on the phone!
Mom: (silence)
Mom: (sigh)
Mom: Well then can you guys go let my dog out today?
Me: Um well...I'm kind of drunk.
Mom: Ha! I knew it! I'll get my boyfriend to do it...

It's good to be the one she can count on, because well, being an only child, it's a duty I feel I shoulder alone.

At around 6, I would say to T and John (nearly every Saturday), "I believe I'm going to take a dip in the pool." Being that I do not own a pool, it was understood that I was going to shower...which makes little to no sense...maybe if I was going to take a bath, the analogy could've worked, but eh...I was drunk. Once clean, I would take advantage of my boyfriend again and then throw him in the shower. Yes, I am incredibly strong and I can lift large 6'1" boys and gently toss them, thanks for asking.

7 pm, I would attempt to put on eyeliner, concentrating hard to not look like a linebacker with greasepaint under my eyes. On occasion, my concentration paid off, most times it did not.

We'd roll out wherever, mostly thitwbar and sing some "Don't Stop Believin' ", maybe a little "Ace of Spades" (Motorhead people, not Ace of Base) and I would typically do a lovely rendition of the Dead Kennedy's "California Uber Alles" because for some reason, that's my song when I'm drunk. Well that and "Rum to Whiskey" and "Straight to Hell" (look at me song dropping, uh huh, I'm awesome. I'm ecclectic. I get around. Um, well...maybe I shouldn't share that much.

Then we'd head home, I'd get to go to sleep at 6am and start all over again the next day. This Saturday isn't as fun as all that. T's at work (sacreligious whore that she is), and John for some reason, feels that if he's broken up with me, he can't hang out on Saturdays... But I took matters into my own hands. I cannot have a mundane Saturday again. I sat at my little computer, all hunched over and such, and typed Johnny a little message, "Ok. It's time to start working on the being friends angle, because this isn't a very fun Saturday! I bet you're having a boring Saturday too...We're too awesome for this...we must hang out soon."

So we'll see. I think I can do the friends thing with him (he he...this is what we call self delusion, but uh, in the good way)...and uh well, in the few days that we've been broken up I've used all the batteries in the house (TMI? I think not!) so I think he'd let me take advantage of him for old time's sake. Where'd that lovesick girl go? The one who was all depressed and such? I'm sure she's still here, but I'm bouncing back.

PS. A boy called me last night...he met me the night before John broke up with me, I was eating pez and drinking my weight in Jameson crying, aware of the impending split. This boy is hard up, because he called me after that. I mean yeah, I'm a cute kid...especially that night. My hair was in uneven pigtails and mascara was running down my face ala Alice Cooper, talking about my wonderful, wonderful boyfriend who was going to leave me because he was having some kind of crazy mental break. So uh yeah, the phone call, I kind of blew the boy off...too soon for any of that. Plus I'd much rather have John...and uh, I don't see that to be a promising beginning to anything. Oh and I'm wondering how he get my number...

PSS. Most of the drinking in this post was exaggerated, well at least until 4pm...then it's on!

So I wasn't going to post for a couple of days but this is too good not to. I went out to dinner with my friends and then we ended up at thitwbar. I didn't partake in much of the boozing, since in my delicate emotional state, I think I would've drank myself under the table. Particularly because I heard the following:

"Hey! Where's John? Isn't it his birthday?"

"M, your boyfriend is cool, while her boyfriend is lame." (then I had to quietly say with a smile on my face, "He's not my boyfriend anymore...we're on good terms though.")

"Why did John saying he wasn't coming out to the 'burbs tonight? He always comes to the 'burbs on Thursdays!"

I gritted my teeth and beared it, and it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.

On another note. I ran into Matty last night. He came up to me, pretty drunk and said, "I've been meaning to apologize for the last time I saw you." I racked my brain, trying to figure out when the last time I saw him, I gave up and shrugged. "I don't remember the last time I saw you..." He laughed a little and said, "I was drunk, showed up at the FQB when all those bands were playing..." he trailed off. I thought back. I remembered the night, three really good punk bands, hanging with the girls and I remember having sex with John in the car that night in the parking lot...hmm, don't think that's what Matty was apologizing for! Nope, couldn't remember.

Matty saw I wasn't remembering so he continued, "That was the night that I came over to your house, and your door was unlocked and so I went up into your bedroom (Vivian, it made me think of you!) and then I showed up at the FQB and you said, "My boyfriend probably wouldn't like that so much, please don't come into my house and go into my bedroom." So I nodded. "Oh yeah! I remember that night." I could see that he was probing to see if there was still someone in my life, I said nothing except, "It's cool, just don't bust in my house dude." Yeah, I would've had extremely good sex with him...but I think I would've started crying about John or something mortifying...so I think I made the wise decision and not try to fix my heart with a random screw.

And then I saw that he was wearing my hoodie that I lent him when he was cold last year on my birthday. Wow, what a difference a year makes.

I'm getting out of self pity mode, if you can see! I do miss John. I'm fighting hard not to send him random emails or texts just to banter...I miss our banter, but I'm winning the fight. I won't lie, I look at my phone constantly,hoping that he sends me a random text and that he misses talking to me too...and then I remember, um, he kind of threw me away.

I've officially sunk into a deep state of depression. I am exasperated with myself and the fact that I feel nothing except weighted down by everything in the entire world.

I'm working hard to get out of it, but as my friend said to me when she saw me at the store picking up odds and ends, "You look horrible. Are you doing ok?" And I can honestly say with a ragged breath, "No." I kind of just stare into space and think about what went wrong. I've yet to figure it out. And yeah, I know, I'm never going to figure it out.

I've appreciated everyone's input. I'm waffling between self pity and trying to figure out if he really is in a bad place right now and wondering if he will come back in a few months (he's got school issues, debt issues, weight issues...they aren't major issues like serious problems but for someone who is a perfectionist, I see why he's unhappy with himself)....I'm trying to figure out how/if I'm going to move on. I'm wondering why he said he loved me. I'm wondering why he made plans for March. I'm wondering why he planned for this summer. I wonder all these things because that gossamer future has been yanked away from me. All the time we spent together seems richer rather than the time alone or the (well spent) time with my friends who are trying (in vain) to cheer me up.

True, it was only a short time that we spent together, but it was a very intense few months. The courtship began at Thanksgiving and the flirtation gave way to exclusive dating on our very first date. And the intensity of it all is probably partially to blame for the break up.

Neil Young, you lie...it's not better to burn out, than fade away..."

Because we burned out.

(Alright, I've bummed you all out long enough...I think I'm going to take a little blogging break until I can focus on something other than this)

Alternate title: Do I dare wonder?

Here is your horoscope for Wednesday, February 22:Trust that the road is there, even if you can't quite see it through all the fog. Keep placing one foot in front of the other, and before you know it, you'll be at your destination. Things will become clearer before too long.

Wow, I guess it couldn't get much foggier could it?

Awesome post, I think he sapped me of creativity as well as my soul.

Oh and he ruined T. Rex for me. I love T. Rex...

And his birthday is tomorrow...and we had such good plans. I'm calling him tomorrow and shouting, "You ruined Christmas!" like in A Christmas Story. Or maybe I won't.

So...I switched back to single on myspace...and I feel like I'm 15, because it hurt to do it. I laughed/snorted a little through my tears as I did it, because I felt ridiculous. And I went to John's page and there we were...still together. So I felt the need to write the following.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Reluctantly...
Current mood: forlorn

I switched back to single.

In my heart of hearts I'm in a relationship with you...but obviously, I'm not crazy so I know better. And I'm going to fade out for a while and see if you contact me later. My hopefulness is asking me to leave you in the top eight...because no matter what, I've had a great time with ya (until now). But when you switch me up, I'll bite the bullet.

what hurts more?
The fact that I'm not enough?
The fact that I don't hate you, not even a little, not at all?
The fact that I've been crying since 4 am?
The fact that I want you to change your mind right now, or in a month or in six...does that make me a pushover?
The fact that I thought things were fine and I feel like the biggest asshole in all the world?
These aren't questions to make you feel bad and I'm not looking for you to answer them (well eventually I would like you to)...I'm just trying to suck the poison out...and go figure, someone who teaches writing enjoys writing her way around her problems.

You're the only person able to read this (I set it to preferred readers and only selected you), I don't want anyone to read this and think badly of you (eh you guys don't count...I meant our mutual friends online), because I don't...I'm not going to lie, I'm definitely not happy and I kind of wish you were as miserable as me...but that's kind of childish I guess; and so I guess I don't wish that.


And his response:

i feel like the biggest asshole in the world, and if i didnt think you were someone i want in my life for a long time, i'd say i wish none of this ever happened, only because it hurts to know that i've hurt you....

believe me misery is no stranger, never has been

eh...still don't know anything, except that we both sound damn confused and it's his fault.

I received this email at around 12 today...I haven't stopped crying yet. Nor have I responded. Well except to you all...I just don't want to feed this craziness. I don't know what caused him to freak out about having a girlfriend so I'm letting it drop. Maybe he'll figure it out, maybe he won't but I'm not going to sit around waiting to find out while crying hysterically. Not that I want to date anyone anytime soon. Not after this enormous mental/aeortal mindfuck. I didn't change anything, I just wrote what I thought in red since I'm not responding to it.

"And i'm sorry for the bad day, and the crying, and the confusion... i'm just not ready for everything that's involved with being with someone and treating them like they deserve, giving consideration and time and all...(ick) i've had a pretty rough year( so you decided to ruin me too...so that I could become vengeful as well and take it out on unsuspecting people) or so and it's left me riven (good word, too bad I'm falling apart because of you...otherwise I'd like you and your vocabularly) and i thought that finding someone who's basically perfect (if I had been all the way perfect it would've worked right?) would make all of it not matter but it didn't and won't(ouch...thanks John...was that before or after you told me you loved me? Wow, that's the first time anyone ever lied about it. I prefer the guys who just tell me what they're truly after). i just thought the longer i tried this the more hurt it would cause the both of us so i did what i did and i hope that i dont lose you completely for it." You hope you don't lose me completely for it, but you've taken yourself away from me completely...I don't get it.

Oh and I'm thinking about having one of my friends become a guest blogger so that you can see that all the things I was typing weren't just in my head.

The hardest thing to do was to get out of bed this morning.

The second hardest thing was to not cry in front of anyone.

The third hardest is not telling anyone yet (outside of you guys and my two close friends), because I don't want them to influence me.

The fourth hardest thing is find all these sweet emails from John in my inbox at work from Friday...when somehow, everything was miraculously ok.

The fifth hardest thing was deleting these emails so I don't just look at them all day.

The sixth hardest thing was finding his prescription sunglasses in my car and figuring out what I'm going to do with them.

I lied. The hardest thing is not emailing/calling/driving down there and demanding a real explanation as to what's going on... I feel like I deserve it, and I need to do it...but I don't know if I'm strong enough.

This is a post I didn't want to write. And honestly, I never thought I was going to write this post for a very long time, if at all.

John broke up with me.

Yep, I'm not lying. It's a little funny because I sent my friend a message on AIM and said, "you'll never guess what john did" and she said, "What, did he propose already?" So it's not just me...I wasn't the only one in la la land thinking everything was perfect. My friends are all pretty shocked too.

We talked about breaking up a little last night, but then I started crying and he left (I'm just breezing over this part because there was a whole lot of crying, and looking into each other's eyes) but then today in truly a horrendous fashion we started talking on email...and then, I got this email:

thank you for understanding, or trying to at least :) there's a lot about my life that i'm just not happy about right now, none of these things involve anyone else (especially you). i need to get my sh*t together, and i'm not going to drag you around while i'm doing it... i think we should call the whole thing off for the time being.

(I don't believe Dr. Phil would like this message one bit...it doesn't seem to explain ANYTHING...sorry, my friends Chelle and Katie are die hard Dr Phil lovers...I'm not so into him myself...but it makes me laugh).

I couldn't respond to this email. People always make the analogy of a breaking heart shattering like glass or something dramatic like that...but to me after reading this email, my heart just started tearing...I felt the tendons pull and stretch to their limits until they snapped apart leaving nothing but frayed edges and pain. It turned out that my heart didn't tear, I just had a horrible asthma attack that was spurred on by the email. In between all the tears, I was sucking on four different kinds of inhalers. Awesome! Am I not supposed to have some sort of intuition that there was something wrong? I never felt that once. Now I'm really scared.

So we "called it off" as if we had been playing street hockey or something, perhaps it's just a rain delay?? yeah right...I read the "Potential" post again and my cheeks burn because I had no idea this was coming. In my mind, this was just the beginning of something great, I was seeing the potential...I was skipping around shaking hands and patting babies on the head. Life seemed sweeter, the air cleaner...my life on an upswing. I wasn't obsessing, I was just sharing my life. I mean c'mon, just on Friday he drove in the middle of the night from Delaware and showed up on my doorstep unprovoked by me at 3:30am, because "he missed me" (I know what you're thinking, sex. but no, we just spooned and went to sleep)...and now this. I kind of think that he's doing this to create some drama, particularly because he's always been in drama rich relationships and everything with us has been on an even keel (but not boring...at least in my opinion..but really who the hell knows anymore). In the back of my mind/heart there's a hope that he'll just change his mind. I know I should feel angry or something...but I just feel hurt, shocked and a little numb. I felt like this was the real deal. And I'm left with lots of questions, no answers.

The worst part. I want him to change his mind...but what kind of person does that make me?

The laughable part...deciding when to change my relationship status on myspace, when to take him out of my top eight and to remove his picture? Because I don't want it to be over...but I don't want to be sitting with a fake boyfriend on my page. Arrrghh, this is all very 10th grade.

This is how I feel:

I want to be able to share my blog with John at times.

At times I don't.

Most of the time I don't want to share my archives with John at all...the ridiculousness of Derek...the fact that he and Derek grew up together, went to high school together. I speak of my "love" for Derek as a footnote when John and I talk, not as impetus to start a blog.

If I share it with him, I can't take it back...it won't be a pure outlet anymore because I will have an audience. I'm leaning towards not telling him about it...but I feel weird not telling him.
What's a girl to do?

Monday morning I kissed John on his slumbering forehead and I wearily crunched on the snow to my car, climbed in and went to work...after that, I didn't see him in the flesh again until last night. Not that long, a four day stretch in which we stay in constant communication via texts and emails and the occasional short phone calls, but it was too long nonetheless (of course, in typical Melina drama fashion).

And I was restless. Not the restless, climbing the walls for sex Melina of the past (although, to be honest, I was a little restless for that too) but I was the Melina who sat typing messages to her boyfriend wistfully because she knew that the fun she was having would've been multiplied infinitely had he been there. It's a weird way in which I'm evolving...the way our lives are meshing.

Last night I couldn't take it any longer. I was tired, I wanted to go to bed because it was more tiring to fight my eyelids from closing than anything I could think of...and then I started talking to John over texts. He had night class last night, I started biting my lip calculating how long I could nap while he was in class and then head on down to his apartment. Then he sends me a text, "I'm skipping class, will you come down?" and happily I scampered into the shower and headed out of the door. I made quick arrangements for T and Chelle to let my dogbaby out...because like any blended family, the adjustment for the child is always harder. She loves John on her turf, but I'm scared to take her to his...for right now. More scared of what "innocent" damage she might do to his home than for anything else. John would take it all in stride, but...still, I'm hesitant. And as long as I have wonderful friends willing to hang with the girl, I'm ok...it won't last much longer, they'll (John and dogbaby) will have to mesh their lives too.

I parked my car, impressed that I've gotten the parallel parking/park two wheels on the curb down. I stepped out of my car and took in the alley, creepy doors, odd people who seem to never sleep (and I'm sure they think the same of me) because I say hello to them at all hours; 1am when we leave the bars, 10pm when I come to spend the night with John, 5 am when I'm leaving for work in the morning. I took in the construction that is constant (particularly on Saturday mornings at 6am) beside his house...I saw progress. Progress seems to be a theme right now.

I knocked on his door and within seconds of him opening it, I was quickly wrapped in his arms and I was at home. No longer did I feel jittery, or a little snarked out as I was all week, I was centered. I looked around when I finally let go of him. My clothes (and countless pairs of undies? How do I always leave them behind? It must be that 5am thing...I get up and go) laundered and folded in the corner. My side of the bed, with my pillow "delicately" stained with mascara. My Valentine's Day hearts stacked neatly on his computer desk. All of it, evidence of me. My existance in his life.

I told him about a compliment that I got from my friend the night before. This friend said, "M, you're like the perfect woman. I'm impressed by you. You're a sexy girl...very feminine, very girly, you don't need to let your tits hang out for guys to notice you becuase you have a presence. You hang with the guys, you have a tough side, you can drink, you gamble,you're not afraid to get dirty, you quote movies, you talk about sex and apparently have the healthiest sex drive in the history of women and you're funny. You're kinda the ultimate." I'm not exactly sure what spurred this compliment or for Steve to say this but as I was telling John the story while we were lying in bed last night he said, " Steve's right, I told you before I have a divining rod to spot quality people. When I met you, I knew..." and then he trailed off and started snoring. I elbowed him awake, not caring that it was quarter of one and we had said we were going to try to go to sleep at 11, "What did you know?"
He woke with kind of a start and I elbowed him again, "What did you and your divining rod know?"
"I just knew the potential..." and again he trailed off and fell asleep. This time I let him sleep, because I understood the potential too.

Don't make me angry...you won't like it when I'm angry.

The snark starts here. John's new roommate was supposed to move stuff into the house last night (an old friend of his...and mine) so our plans together got nixed since there was one key to the house. Of course I was chipper and said to Johnny, "Do what you gotta do, help him get moved in...drink a few beers...have a good time!" What I really was thinking was, "Do what you gotta do, then kick his drunk ass on the street and come see me now!" But that wasn't what made my hackles rise...

At 9:30 John sent me a text that said, "He bailed tonight, now I'm pissed. I missed an opportunity to see you." (awww, I love him! No snark for him). I could've forced him to come up at 9:30 but I knew that he was already curled up on the couch, book in hand for school tonight, doing all the work that I never let him get done. I didn't ever push the issue...because had I, he would've wearily gotten to my house at 10ish.

Snark #2. Tanning is starting to catch up to me. My forehead looks gross (to me...everyone else just keeps squinting at my face when I point out the wrinkles/disfigurements)...I turn 29 next month...I'm cool with that, I need to realize that not being George Hamilton's color is ok, so that I can stop the grossness that is my skin.

Snark #3. Sex. (It goes with number 1). What's the good of having a boyfriend if you haven't had sex since Sunday?!? With it being V-day and all, I think people with hip replacements have us beat for the week. I'm climbing the walls here...and Stupidhead (read: my sweet, sweet boyfriend) has night class tonight. Oh the humanity!

Snark #4. My mother "broke into" my house yesterday (she walked in, I left it unlocked) to look at my stupid broken bed since her boyfriend can fix it. Did I ask for this??? Nooooo. But I get a snarky phone call about how disgusting my house is (which is true...but sorry, I'm traveling between two homes and work, I don't have time to clean!um and I'm a slob) and then to top the short snarked convo, she sent me an email about how I can't ever expect any man to marry me and let me bear his children (I wish I was kidding about this part, my mom for the most part rocks, but not yesterday) if he sees my house! Damn! I didn't realize that I was trying out for the part of Donna Reed! That snark lingered with me throughout the night...partially because it's true, my house is fairly disgusting but now I don't feel like cleaning it because I want to spite her...and uh...apparently, I'm 10.

That's enough snark for right now...more snark may follow.

Yesterday was Valentine's Day (shocking, I know...I bet you had absolutely no clue). I love Valentine's Day...not for the stupid boxes of candy, the sappily worded cards or the incredibly over-priced flowers. I love it for the love thing. Yeah I know. Gag. Seriously though, I'm a sucker for a good idea...and I think I had one.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the Princess Leia getup, which I swear, I seriously considered. Until I realized that it was the dead of winter and I wasn't sure of what time the boy was coming home...but I actually did find a Leia outfit for him (when she's chained to Jabba) so he'll be happy someday, just not yesterday.

My plan was pretty girly, but I thought that he would like it...because his previous girlfriends were "crazy valentines"...I mean the kind of gal that would buy you a beef heart and put bullets in and stitch it up...and then use some of the blood as lipstick. If you think I'm kidding, you're wrong. John told me that he liked the crazy to an extent but that it also creeped him out. So I decided to go the second grade valentine's day route. I cut out paper hearts and wrote things on them like "Kiss Me" and then on the back I wrote about certain memories that had to deal with kisses and other cheesy hearts with other cheesy memories. Although, I was right...he did really like it.

He called me and said, "M., you truly amaze me. When did you do this?" and let me tell you when I did this...to him, I said with all the sunshine in the world in my voice that I just zipped down after work and put them up. Between you and me, I busted out of work early. I attempted to get to the city in a record 35 mins...it took about 55. It took me all of 5 mins to artfully place the hearts on the door, talk to Pedro (real name) the Mexican working on the foundation next to Johnny's house and then I was back on the road...for another...75mins. Uggggh.

I talked to Johnny for about 10 mins or so (a record for us, since we both hate the phone and prefer to send 1,763 text messages--true count from last month--shoot me in the head, please), he was going to rally and come up but I could hear in his voice that he was truly sick (the stomach virus that everyone else had already, got him the night before and he wasn't 100%.) I wasn't being totally magnanimous and sacrificing my Vday, I can't afford to be puking...when I've got a good long weekend ahead of me!

I won't say that I wouldn't have loved a bunch of pink lilies delivered to me at work...because that would be a lie. However, I'm glad he saved the gazillion dollars it would've cost, so that we can use it this weekend (because I'm po', y'all!). I've never been one to be about the gifts of Vday, but about telling people how I feel about them and getting to hear how they feel about me (which really should be done all the time!) and I think we did that. And I think we do that every day.

At 1am, John sent me a text, "I wish more than anything right now that I could roll over and hold you in my arms." and I sent him one back before I went to sleep, "Me too babe, me too."

Friday.
I went down to see John's band have an "open practice"...basically, it was a little preview show. I know he's my boyfriend and all, but the band kicked ass. Well, after the first set they decided to destroy everything in the kitchen. Microwaves went flying, beer bottles hit the walls, kitchen tables were overturned and then thrown into another room. The destruction was immense, but oddly...the punk rock boys so intent on creating chaos quickly flipped a switch and calmly swept everything up into trash bags (or into the back "yard"...which is basically a debris pile caused by John and the boys and the former inhabitants of the home. It was the strangest thing in the world to witness...but it seemed to make sense at the time.

Set two was equally good, but set three was more than a little funny. It was after 3am. Everyone in the house was drunk. The band was no exception to this whatsoever. The lead singer in fact, was lying on the floor singing lyrics to songs I've never heard before...but whatever they were, they weren't the song lyrics he was supposed to be singing. At around five, my eyelids were getting incredibly heavy and I started to fall asleep standing up. John whisked me upstairs and I fell asleep within seconds.

Saturday.
T, John's roommate and I hung out in the kitchen waiting for Sleeping Beauty (aka John) to wake up. John's roommate, the hottest man alive, turns out to be one of the funniest people alive as well. John finally woke up, and we quickly left in order to beat the impending snow storm. We made many stops on our way, picking up supplies for our "Snow In". We bought V8, the most enormous bottle of good Vodka I've ever seen (thanks Johnny!), celery, horseradish, and worstershire sauce. That's right! We had lots of and lots of Bloody Marys. Although I have to say, I may love John, but he's a little heavy handed with the horseradish...it was more like eating a meal than drinking anything. I actually switched over to beer, because I couldn't chew my drink any longer with a smile. When John wasn't looking I ran to the sink and poured his concoction down the drain. After hours of singing at the top of our lungs with my friends from work we decided that we needed to be unleashed upon the rest of the world. I mean really, we couldn't hide our gift (vocal skills, and incredible drunkeness) from the world any longer.

So we strapped on our snow shoes (read: five inch high heels for me and T and a pair of sneakers with no grip on the bottom for John and I think everyone else had suitable shoes) and we prepared to walk. However, we were stopped by our friend Rob, who, unlike us...did not consume numerous pitchers of chunky Bloody Mary's/ or about 100 of Canada's finest beer--Molson Golden (I won't say who did that...ahem). So we piled into Rob's tiny pickup in the midst of a full on blizzard and went to thitwbar. Surprisingly, there were a good amount of people there...many arriving on snowmobiles (of course...does this surprise you?) This is where John turned into a zombie.

Apparently, John is not superhuman in nature, although, I believe he thought he was at one point. You see, even he got sick of his chunky drink (that he called a Bloody Mary, and I called a Bloody Mess) and so he decided to make pint glass versions of a dirty martini...hmm...1 pint glass, he was ok. 2nd pint, he added about 95 olives to the mix and still, he seemed...well a little wobbly but still ok. The 3rd pint glass should've been removed from his hand...although when I took a sip I saw that he "cheated" because it was nearly 3/4 olive juice this time! The truck ride where I sat on his lap with my head tucked into the dashboard (children reading this: this is NOT safe. I didn't even feel safe for a minute!) I think expedited his drunkeness. We stepped out of the vehicle and he was a changed man...something more from George Romero than my boyfriend. But he seemed in good spirits so we continued into the bar. This is when the zombie would decide to become Beligerant Zombie.

Some woman hit on John at the jukebox. True she was styled in the 80's "I love White Snake" look and true, she was much, much older than him and very unattractive...but for the love of God must he say, "Look here lady, I'm gonna play what I want to play!" while pointing a finger at her, his eyes going all googly side to side. She scampered away, as if Ted Bundy were the one looking for a "new" Journey song that he learned...and not John. Then he turned on me. He sat next to me and said, "I was under the impression that I came up here this weekend so that we could all drink and have fun...but the only person who's drunk is me!!!" And then he ordered me several shots/drinks and beers and then skipped away from the bar to talk to people he hadn't seen since high school. We came home and he started to try to bicker with me, but I wasn't having it. We went upstairs to go to bed and he tripped on something of mine in the hallway and he yelled, "Clean your room Melina!" and I sarcastically yelled back, "Yeah, I'll get right on that!" (because um, I don't think I've cleaned anything in the house for a good month now...) Then I yelled, "Take your clothes off and get in bed," (which makes me giggle now because I can't picture myself saying it, but T was sleeping on the couch and she heard me bellow it at him. Apparently he liked this, because he complied. And then we passed out...um, but not before I gave him a hickey. Ha ha...it's the first hickey I've ever given someone, and I don't remember meaning to do it, but there it was--to my chagrin.

Sunday.
We woke up, ordered Chinese food and decided to watch First Blood and make fun of the movie...because well, it's really, really funny. Any movie with this exchange:
Brian Dennehy (stupid cop guy): I sent in 200 of our best men!
Corporal guy: but you forgetting something...
Brian Dennehy: What's that?
Corporal guy: A hell of a lot of bodybags...

See that made me laugh, because these types of exchanges were peppered throughout the entire movie. I read him some of my favorite blogs (but somehow forgot to mention that I have one of my own...) he particularly likes Vivian and the Hot Librarian. At some point in the middle of the day I turned to him and said, "You were being belligerant last night and I think I'm supposed to be mad at you!" But since I didn't know why...I let it go...so our "first fight" was kind of stupid and it never really came to fruition or had a resolution. Sunday night, we were waiting for Chelle to come over so that I could take her and John over to see John's friends who were down from Boston. Chelle said that she was going to call on her way, she did not. This made John and I scramble to put our clothes on before she came barrelling in...it actually was pretty funny (Sorry Chelle!!) We went to the bar and John and his friend just did shots for...oh like three hours. This is when I was introduced to Drunken Funny John (DFJ). Unlike the Zombie John, I enjoyed spending time with DFJ. I poured him into my car because I had to take him home to his house in the city.

On my way to his house, he started to snore. I was soo tired that my eyes were beginning to close. I woke him up and told him to talk to me a little and keep me awake. He said, "Ok" and then proceeded to snore on my shoulder. I laughed, turned the music up and rolled the window down. Finally, I got him home...after several drunken antics, such as when I said, "Johnny, wake up...we're home." and he woke up and asked me, "What should I do about that?" Ummmm, let me think here...get out of the car perhaps?? He did things like this the whole way from the alley to his house. I wish I was in the mood to type them all down...but I'm not. Of course, he's not always a drunken buffoon, but he definitely played the role this weekend...and it was all pretty funny taking care of him. My favorite part of the weekend though was at 1am, when I had finally gotten him into bed...explained why I wasn't going to have sex with him (I had to get up at 5 and by the time he would've been done with me it would've been 2:30) he whispered in my ear, "I'm going to be the best boyfriend you ever had...because you deserve the best boyfriend. You're soo good to me...." he trailed off and I thought perhaps he fell asleep again, but then he said, "So...I'm going to be the best boyfriend ever, just uh, not this weekend ok?"

Now the countdown begins. My roommates from college are coming to hang out on Saturday. We're going to invade John's home and take over the city!

As you've been reading on my blog...I'm totally preoccupied. John fills a good portion of my mind most of the day...what we said to one another, when we're going to see each other next and so on. And if you've read the blog before...um, I tend to have a wee problem with the "all or nothing" theory. It's ok, I'm used to it...I've always been that way. I want my bathwater scalding hot and I want my ice water to be colder than yours. I'm just a woman of extremes.

The preoccupation is mutual. He will send me a text in the middle of the day asking me what I'm doing at work, and how my hair is done (he's big on the hair)...mostly perfectly nice comments...a few that would make a dominatrix blush; of course, I never do--ha ha. Kidding, of course I do. My blushing charms men. He mentions how he can't get things done at work. For me, it's different. At work, I have to be on...like 100% on. I basically do standup all day...making the dull and difficult, sublime and accessible. But as soon as I leave work, I crumble.

I think about dinner, wandering the aisles...I will grab a box and smile vacantly, thinking about the time that John made me [insert whatever the boxed food item here]. I buy nothing. I leave the store with a vacant smile. I go to Blockbuster to drop off movies that have been collecting dust in my house (which truly is a dust magnet and has nothing to do with my piss poor cleaning abilities) and I walk the aisles. I will pick up a movie and again...the zombie grin will cross my face...again, I will leave with nothing except a head full of quotes that I make John do for me as if he were my pet parrot. I go home, I pick up one of four books. I pride myself in my ability to juggle four or five books at once...finishing them all within a week. Sighing, I pick up one of the books read a page or two and put it down. I reach down and grab a second book and do the same thing. I realize that I've been reading these four books for four weeks and that I've completely crossed plotlines and forgotten major characters. The books must be started over so that they can be finished.

The distraction. Well it has a name. John. It's great. He's great. It's a great feeling to be distracted from "reality" in some respects...to like someone that much and to be liked even more (that's the secret I think, I feel completely at ease because in my heart of hearts I know that he likes me more than I like him. As if that's possible??) Anyways, that new feeling (by far better than that overrated new car smell that makes me sneeze) is intense, constant...pulsating. But I have to say, I will be happy when it dies down a little...just a little...because I'm starving, I have limited socks left, a pile of books to be read, familial obligations and a sad little dog who would love to go for a walk rather than watch me stare moony eyed at my cell phone when he texts me!

Wouldn't you love to get an email from your girlfriend/boyfriend/shemale lover or whatever that says," Hey! What are you doing tonight? Can I come over and play Monopoly? Unless of course you're busy."

Because that's exactly what I did this morning.

And the reply I got back..."Baby, I'm all yours! But you can't cry this time when you lose..."

So it's official, we're nerds...I kind of wish I could round up other people tonight, just long enough to get in a game of Cranium.

Now the tricky part of the situation is when will I pounce on him...do I do it before, to throw him off? That's what I tried last time, but I stopped short to cause distraction. It backfired because I was the one distracted and then I was bankrupt within 40 minutes. This time...maybe I'll wait until after the game to take my victory lap so to speak. See really people, Monopoly is a strategic game...

Go to work with a ballet neck sweater on...(for you boys, it's like a more scooping boatneck) and realize after ALL of your co-workers make mention of it, that your tattoo pokes out of the sweater a bit...maybe a flower and a half out of five. I didn't see the big deal...particularly because I have pretty long hair that hangs midway down my back (thus covering the tattoo...unless I was dumb enough to be in the copy room with my hair in a ponytail)...but apparently it is akin to one of the Seven Wonders of the World. People stopped into my room left and right to "catch a glimpse" of it. The funny thing? The 18 year olds paid little to no mind to it...other than to ask if it cost as much as it looked like it did and where I had it done.

Very odd.

(that was my attempt at a non-John post...I'm working on a better one).

While you were away for the night, I was thinking about all the things I like about you and I wanted to share them with you. Like you said, it seems we always have some sort of audience (we're always with our friends), this seemed like the format...plus I probably wouldn't say all this stuff in person because I'd get shy or something and I would stop.

I like the way you look at me...I feel beautiful. I don't always feel that way. I like the way I look in your eyes.

You have the most gorgeous smile (go to the dentist!!!), it's truly infectious.
You smile, I smile...

I like the way you make me laugh and we can just lay around and crack each other up--and um, then we laugh at my laugh for about 10 hours. Yes, it's true my laugh does sounds like the Count from Seasame Street.

I love everything that we do to each other in bed...I get hot thinking about you here on my couch. I hope the passion, the intensity, the give and take never fades.

I loved the Saturday that we spent in bed together...that was the first time in a really long time that I've done that, and every time I think of it, I smile.

I love how you kiss my neck, it gives me goosebumps all over...

I like how we talk about things...like when I say I don't want to smother you the one night in the very beginning...and you said the other night that you were worried that I was going to be pissed at you for not going to dinner (what were you supposed to do? Change the reservation?? Nooo), Or the whole mom/ex girlfriend thing... I hope we always talk like that, because at some point we're going to piss each other off ;) and if we talk instead of sulk I think we're going to be the best couple out there since Bonnie and Clyde (minus the impotence/killing sprees/horrible deaths).

I love the fact that we've said we love each other already. I've told you this before, but I've only said it to one other person and I only say it when I mean it..it should be weird but I'm absolutely not weirded out, and I absolutely do love you. Maybe since we've been open about things from the beginning...maybe because we really do seem to be able to act and react to each other like it's second nature or something. Whatever it is, it's real. For me.

I like who you are as a person...you're like the perfect combo of intellectual, smart alleck, musician, regular every day guy. You amaze me how much like a chameleon you can be and how you can be skilled in all these areas.

I'm looking forward to all the time that we're going to spend together in the future...here's hoping this stuff, both the fantastic and the mundane last a long time!

So I picked him up from the airport (he left me for one full day to Boston) and he swung me around in the lobby, kissing me on the forehead as if he hadn't seen me for days...maybe even weeks. "I missed you!" he said with a smile and shaking his head, "I really, really missed you. Don't ask me to explain it." I smiled my little half smile and said, "I missed you too."
"Nah, you didn't miss me" he said.
"Oh but I did. I even wrote you an email about all the things that I like about you...but then I didn't send it to you because it was super sappy."
He fiddled with my bottom lip with his finger as I drove. "What did it say?"
"It said, 'I miss you. A lot." (Well you and I know it says more than that...)
"Wow, that is super sappy. Wait until we get home and I'm going to tell you what I missed about you..." with a teasing tone in his voice as he gave the back of my neck a quick squeeze.
And it wasn't what you're thinking...
As he stripped off my pink suede adidas sneakers in the kitchen (apparently his favorite place in the world to get me naked) he told me all the things he missed about me...sex and my body were on the list but they were hardly the highlights.
And we really did miss each other...so much so that I stayed in the city and woke up at the crack of dawn to come home for work.

Last night John and I were supposed to have a little intimate meal at this swanky little Mediteranean restaurant. It only seats 28 people so I made sure thatJohn made the plans, (I mean he made the plans, he should make the reservations!) The only problem was...

He had a horrible day at work. He was stuck crunching numbers until after 6pm. Ick, on a Friday night! I had a horrible time shopping (yes, yes boo fucking hoo, I know). I just wanted to look nice for our fancy dinner...well the mall thinks that it's fucking Spring here in lovely Pennsylvania! Granted, I will say that it has been unseasonably warm, but give me a damn break...tank tops? Fine, tank tops...give me a fucking cardigan or shawl, wrap, shrug anything to cover my arms, since um, it's raining and it's about 30 degrees out right now! Frustrated, I bought two shirts that I didn't need and that weren't what I was looking for anyway. Changing in my car, I decided to go with the new casual outfit that I had purchased. I called John and grumbled about things, he grumbled back to me...then I bitched about traffic...and an hour later...we missed our reservation...and I was still in traffic!

Plans obviously changed. The name of the game was..."I'm going to show my girlfriend off to people," it was kind of cute. In fact, on our walk to the next watering hole/friend meeting place, he said, "I'm kind of showing you off to my friends...um, not in an offensive way or anything, I just really like you..." and he trailed off. Stopping mid skip (because yes, I was skipping down the streets of Philadelphia in high heels...there's a lot of cobblestone in the city!!) and kissed him, "I'd be worried if you didn't introduce me to your friends, silly." That's how I met lots of his friends, and they were all a riot. Our last stop of the evening was to hang out with his band members/roommates at one point in time (they all still pay rent but they all live with their girlfriends).

This meeting made me a little more nervous than the others...it was make or break time. And I was starving. While at all the other bars I refrained from drinking much...I mostly just held my glass because I hadn't eaten since 10:25 am. I told John that I was worried that I was going to get drunk so he scampered down the street somewhere to find me food, leaving me in the ever capable, ever gorgeous hands of his roommate. Being the most awesome boyfriend in the world, before he left he leaned over and said, "Go ahead and sit next to him...I know he's gorgeous...get your fill...then you're coming home with me little lady!" So I did sit next to the Italian Adonis and drank my first dirty martini and I fell in love. I am told, that the bar we were in is famous for its dirty martinis...since I have nothing to go by, I'll just say it was fabulous.

A couple minutes passed and John came in with a "knight in shining armor smile" on his face carrying a slice of pizza for me. I wolfed it down in under thirty seconds, to the amazement of several bar patrons...partially because I ate it in thirty seconds and partially because I was eating pizza in a fancy martini bar. Whatever. The pizza worked wonders and I ended up staying up with Johnny all night, waiting to watch the sunrise and then I took him to the airport, where he begged me to join him. But, being poor...there was no way I could swing an overnight trip to Boston...and I know he would've paid for me, but he already pays for enough. So, I gave him a quick kiss goodbye and told him where I'd meet him in the airport tomorrow. And he said, "Ok, I love you babe."

So he loves me...it's been a month...and he loves me.

So the broken bed saga continues...it now feels like I'm sleeping uphill because the one side of the bed goes up, while the other half sags down, nearly to the ground. I can't truly describe the ridiculousness that was John and I going to bed last night. I seriously felt like I was getting altitude sickness while John claimed he felt nothing. I whole heartedly believe that this is due to the fact that he was nearly sleeping on the floor. I was going to make cupcakes or something but I just didn't know the altitude conversions...yes, those were the kind of jokes I was cracking while John kept smothering my mouth with his hand so that he could sleep. So what if it was 3am and he needed to get up at 5am? I decided I needed sex, and once I got sex I decided that I needed to do a little stand up (lay down?) before I slept. Exasperated/tired as he was, John was a fairly good sport and threw in a few jokes himself (after several pokes in the ribs and threats that I would never go to sleep if he didn't tell me jokes).

After an odd night's sleep I decided that something needed to be done besides snicker and point saying, "Look! We broke the bed!" which in all honesty, that's about all I've been doing with the situation. So, on my break I sucked it up and I called the furniture store from which I purchased my most beautiful of all beds. Seriously, if you ever set foot into my bedroom you'd not only fall in love with me and my love of heaps of clothes on the floor, but you'd truly love my bed. It's a beaut. A one of a kind (ok...it's a special order...not exactly one of a kind...but rare).

I ask for service. I state in a very clear and calm voice that I needed the board that goes in between the headboard and the footboard...the rail if you will. The man giggles. He giggles!! He then says, "I'm looking at your order and that was a special order. You wanted Chestnut. Chestnut is a very hard wood, I'm unsure as to how and why this broke." So I sigh and say, "Yeah, I think I've heard all the jokes this week...let's just say that my bed has seen a lot of action ok?"

I figured by saying that, I might get my brace quicker...oh and apparently, I have to purchase a pair of braces. My "service" rep giggled again and told me that the extra might not be a bad idea for me! Nothing like a little over the phone sexual harassment to brighten the day!

White knee high lacey socks...check
Blue button down oxford...check
Black skirt with a slit up the side...check
Black patent leather high heels...check
Porn star librarian glasses (actually my perscription every day glasses if I choose to wear them)...check.

Satisfying your boyfriend's school girl fetish...and doing it in public...damn, I'm good.

Waiting patiently to see your boyfriend who's supposed to be here by now...check
Hurry up already, there are boys circling me in the restaurant!! So I pulled up my laptop and I'm pretending that I'm doing very important work.

It's so strange how little ripples truly disturb the surface of the pond of my life. I was on the phone last night with my best friend (former??) Tasha. It was her 27th birthday, so I wanted to wish her a happy one and to see how her pregnancy is going. Shivers go up my spine when I think of these things...she's married, she's pregnant, she has the perfect house, the best paying job and the perfect loving husband. I wish I could say that this is all just outside looking in, but no...it really is true, she's got a perfect life and I don't begrudge her of any of it. Somehow, we're not as close as we used to be.

We grew up together, two doors away from each other. We went to elementary school together and we went to college together. We were even in the same sorority (thusly, we made the same mistakes with some of the same men...just not at the same time)! I used to wrestle with the question of why things weren't working as well between us. There was never any animosity, it was just incredibly different. I secretly pondered if I was simply jealous of her, or if she just outgrew me...which made me question, "When am I going to grow up and be the adult she is?" especially since I'm nearly two years older than her. I tried and tried to hold everything together and keep things between us, just as they once were. Until I became frustrated and gave up.

Last night on the phone, things seemed different, we were able to connect, but in a new way...an adult way--although whenever I hear her voice I long for the times when we would play dress up and take a "portfolio" of photos with my poloroid (ha ha, most of them were seriously horendous). She seemed so happy for me to be with John (Which of course she would be)...nearly squealing when I mentioned his idea for my West Coast birthday saying, "How did you end up with this guy?" half joking, but half serious...to which I responded, "You'd think after all the endless bad guys I've dated, hung out with or just plain screwed I finally deserve one of the good ones!" laughing at myself and she surprised me by whole heartedly agreeing with me. Kind of like saying without saying, "Babe, it's about time you decided to grow up."

However, I'm not going to lie...when I went into Gymboree to buy her future baby boy clothes I was entirely skeeved out. I'm not ready for babies!!! I had no idea what I was picking out...so I gave up midway, bought what was on my arm and bought a $50.00 gift certificate and ran back to my car.