You're Still the One

There's always been something about you that just levels me.

Even when we were kids and flirting mercilessly, I'd touch you on the forearm or whatever just to touch you. I'd bite my lip and get a little breathless, but I'd just goof off with you so that you didn't know your nearness made my breath catch.

Every time you walked by I'd watch you move and wish you were moving toward me.

We had one perfect day together.

Ten years later I called you and you called me back.

And the first time I saw you all those old feelings came rushing back.

I got out of my car and there you were, standing in front of me with that smirk on your face.

That smirk that always meant trouble.

It took you two steps to stand in front of me, slide your hand up my neck and into my hair. You pulled me in for a kiss that made me weak in the knees and took my breath away.

We pulled away and I smiled and whispered, "Hey . . . "

It didn't take us long before we were both in the car.

You were good.

You started talking about how you were and you're night and what you were up to.

I heard my voice in my head saying, "You walked away from him the first time. Quit wasting time, slide over and grab him!"

So, I did.

You looked a little surprised, but then you smiled.

And the next 20 minutes were an embarrassing gropefest that I hadn't experienced since high school.

Our hands and lips went everywhere.

It was as if we were trying to consume each other.

My heart was racing.

I pulled your shirt out and slid my hands up your back.

Then, just as quickly as we'd started we stopped.

That was it.

Just 20 minutes of behaving like high school kids in the back of a car.

Before I drove off that night I put my face in my hands and I could still feel the warmth of your skin.

I took a shuddering breath and I could smell you on my hands - cedar and pine.

The next morning I thought it had all been a dream.

A really great dream.

And now, when you give me that look my breathing still hitches and when we're together you still make me feel like I'm the only woman in the world.

Boys

I went out on Saturday night.

I don't normally go out.

I have a tendency to get bored really easily and I've got a healthy stash of many books or movies waiting for me at home that I'd rather just stay in.

Whether or not that makes me a total loser I don't really care.

I really like my own company (on occasion I prefer it), so staying in suits me just fine.

But, this past weekend I went to see Saved and then went to a new bar in town.

A new martini bar.

I am the Appletini's bitch!

If you like sour apple Jolly Ranchers then you and the Appletini should meet.

I met a cute boy.

A really cute boy and while I wasn't interested I got the feeling he was really interested in me.

You know, sat really close to me, accidentally/on purpose brushed my arm or hand while he sat next to me.

I felt him touching me and kind of thought, "Hmm, this is interesting . . . " But, you know what was missing?

That spark.

I've had that happen before even with someone I barely know. When the accidental brush of a hand kind of takes your breath away. When the heat of their skin on your skin makes you jump.

Yeah, I need that.

Anyway, as it happens with most cute boys - he got less and less cute the longer he talked to me.

The conversation started to get tedious.

He's at that stage where he's just beginning to question some big issues (death, morality, happiness . . . ). So, of course, he thinks his opinions are compelling and fill him with the need to share his "new" thoughts with people.

I know, this smacks of condescension, but I really just don't feel like having to listen politely to this boy's ruminations.

He needs a girl his own age who thinks he's a genius for having these thoughts.

A girl who looks at him with big eyes of admiration, as if he were the smartest boy she's ever met.

He doesn't need my squinty-eyed, pursed lip look of impatience.

I need more than just a pretty face and pseudointellectual conversation.

Crazy

I don't handle stress very well.

On the surface I look like I have my shit together, but deep down I'm a mass of twitchy nerves.

I can handle a crisis.

Mostly because a crisis will just present itself and all I have to do is react. I don't have to worry it to death.

But deadlines and that sort of thing have caused me serious stress since I was about sixteen.

I went to a fairly competitive high school where although I wasn't one of the top students (not even close), my friends and I still compared grades. So, 11th grade rolls around and on top of grades, I'm worrying about test scores and college. I was also performing in five numbers at my dancing school and forgetting half of the steps for each dance. Then, I added to that by being in my first "serious" relationship. All of that made for a very stressful year.

One night, I was playing with my hair and felt a really coarse strand. Curious, I plucked it. It stung a little but it also felt kind of good. That hair also happened to be growing through a teeny, tiny zit on my head.

So, I pulled another hair near the same spot.

And another and another . . . until eventually I had a silver dollar-size bald spot on my head.

I don't remember setting out to do this, I just know that it felt good and while I was rooting around in my hair I couldn't think about anything else other than plucking another hair. It was a brief moment of peace in my stressed-out life.

I let that bald spot get pretty big before stopping myself. Then I moved on to the other side of my head. Pretty soon I had two perfectly round bald spots. If you can imagine a person growing horns on their head, the spot where a horn would sprout from is about where I created the bald spot. I have thick, dark hair and I part it to the right so hiding the bald spot wasn't every difficult. I never told anyone what I was up to an no one ever found out.

I did however live in fear of strong winds.

Now I know that I had [URL=http://www.nmha.org/infoctr/factsheets/92.cfm]trichotillomania*[/URL]. I didn't know what this was back then, I didn't have a name for it. I just thought I was crazy.

I don't quite remember what triggered it back then, but the next time in my life that it got bad was when I had Hepatitis B. I was already depressed about a lot of shit and laying around in bed while my liver recovered left me with too much time on my hands.

My hands immediately went to the place that I'd pulled so many years ago and started up again. It got soo bad that I even took the tweezers to it. When the hair had grown back in, anywhere from 1/8 - 1/4" I'd pluck it out with the tweezer. Sometimes I'd gauge my scalp a little and pull a little of it, too. I even started saving the tiny hairs in an envelope.

Why?

I don't know.

But, it did give me a twisted sense of accomplishment to see how much hair I had pulled.

Eventually, I calmed down and let it scab over. I'd run my finger over the tender bald spot and itch for the hair to grow back in so I could pull it some more. Have you ever pulled a hair through a scab? It stings a little and you can feel the root of the hair get hung up on the scab, but it feels a little good, too.

The trickiest part about trich? Going to see your hairdresser. It takes careful planning. You have to let the hair grow out enough that he/she won't see the bald spot and think you have mange. I had a hair dresser ask me once why this swatch of hair was only three inches long. I shrugged and said, "Too much abuse from the blow dryer and curling iron I guess."

I don't allow myself to give myself bald spots anymore. But, I have one little hair on the left side that grows out all course and tight, like a little slinky hair and I'll search for it every three months or so and pluck it out with my fingers.

Usually, I'm aware of the urge to pull my hair and it tends to occur when I'm in a stressful period in my life. Sometimes it's when I'm facing a deadline for work or just when I feel overwhelmed in general. My scalp tingles and my fingers itch to root through my hair.

Sometimes I stop myself.

Sometimes I don't.

I have learned what I shouldn't do when I get that urge. I shouldn't read or talk on the phone. I have to find an activity that keeps both of my hands busy. Otherwise, my hand will just wander into my hair and the next thing I know - I'm plucking.

It's been a long time since I've pulled my hair out excessively. Yeah, there are moments when I slip and I try to check myself when that happens.

But, even now that my hair is pretty much all the same length I can reach up there, instinctively find the area I always pull from and give my hair a little tug.

It stills give me the most delicious little thrill to feel that little sting at the root.

*(Sidenote: I scrolled down that page and saw something of interest. Trich is thought of as an OCD disorder. The site goes on to say, "Such as compulsive counting . . . " Hello!!! I totally do that and always thought it odd but never equated it with OCD. Sometimes I count the alphabet on my fingers, making sure Z always lands on the same finger, the number of words in the last sentence I just said . . . random stuff.)

These Boots are Made for Walkin'

I'm having one of those days where I can't focus, so two blog entries today.

A while ago I realized I have a shoe fetish. Okay, it a long, long time ago.

I've always known how much I love shoes. I have at least, at least 15 pairs of black shoes alone and they are all different as each has a different function.

For instance, some are dressy, some go with skirts, some go with jeans, some are sandals, some go better with shorts . . . so while I was straightening my shoe collection and setting some aside for my yard sale I've realized that my shoe shopping technique parallels my experiences with the opposite sex.

Check it.

So far, in my life I have tried on a lot of shoes. I used to just try on shoes for the hell of it.

I don't do this anymore.

My time is precious to me and I don't feel like trying on a bunch of shoes at random just for the sake of trying on shoes.

Now, when I go into a shoe department I cruise the selection very discriminatingly. If nothing looks particularly attractive to me then I just walk away.

If I'm going to spend time flagging down a sales associate, taking off my shoes (and/or socks) and walking around in then, then when I decide to give up my time the shoe better be damned special.

When I first started shoe shopping I would just grab shoes off the rack or have a salesperson bring them to me all willy nilly. Maybe they looked pretty, or just different, on display, but I really didn't have any sort of vision for them.

I mean, sure they looked cute but what good would they do me if I wasn't ready for them. But I was young and inexperienced, so I'd take them home and try to make them go with something. I'd dish out the cash and then build an outfit around them. Or worse, I'd buy them, bring them home and never really grow fond of them. I was just seduced by the fact that they were different. By the fact that they weren't mine.

Sometimes I'd get lucky and find a really amazing shoe that looked great on the rack and when I'd slip it on it made me feel and look wicked hot. But, the first step I'd take in them I'd glance down swiftly at them to see when the bitches turned into a medieval torture device.

I'd hobble over to the mirror in them, hike up my pants leg and think, "Oh, but they look sooooo good!" And a woman sitting just out of my line of vision would say, "Those look AMAZING," and I swear, swear to you it was the voice of God, so I'd say, "Wrap 'em up!"

So I'd do take them home and wear them when I was vaccuuming or washing dishes or ironing clothes, hoping in vain that I'd "break them in" so that I could wear them in public without fainting from the pain. Only to realize that it wasn't the shoes that were being broken in as much as it was my feet.

Really, those kinds of shoes make sense in every way but for some reason the fit just isn't quite right and no matter how much you try to make it work it just isn't gonna happen. I was never going to feel comfortable with them.

And on and on . . . I could keep going on about all of my shoe encounters, but it would be the same thing: girl finds a great pair of shoes, girl falls in love with shoes, girl gets shoes, girl gets tired of shoes, girl goes looking for new shoes.

Stashed in my closet right now is this perfect pair of loafers that I fall back on time and time again.

I have them in black and brown: I love them that much. They are sturdy shoes with non-trendy square toes. I adore them. In fact, one pair (yes, the black ones) I've worn so much that the insoles have become unglued.

You know why I keep coming back to them?

They feel good, look good and go with 98% of the outfits in my closet. I don't have to make them work, they just do and I take extra special care of them because I love them so much.

I think they may be my solemate.

Sure, I keep looking and trying on new shoes, but the fact that I have these at home keeps me from trying on every other pair of shoes. I keep comparing anything else to the ones I already have.

I love those shoes.

Now if I could only find that same love with a boot.

Your Cheatin' Heart

I used to know this woman who had cheated on her husband.

It was all very soap opera, really.

See, she started working with me at The Magazine and she was really quiet and wholesome.

I hated her immediately.

I mean, come one, who's that good!

Well, I quit a few months after she started and a really good friend of mine, C, asked me, "So, you're not working with B anymore?"

I said, "Well, I did quit so I guess that would mean I no longer work there. Hey, you're right! I don't work with B anymore!"

Anyway, my friend C went on to tell me that she knew B from a few years back.

Back when B had cheated on her husband.

C, B and I were all Air Force wives so you tended to run into the same people from time to time. Also, our husbands were engineers so more often than not we ended up crossing paths at different bases and at different periods in our spouses careers.

Anyway, B's husband was sent away for a few months for training and while he was gone B decided to take on some extramarital activities. In the process, B got knocked up by her boyfriend. She told her husband who said, "Be gone fie yie faithless hussy!" and kicked her out. So, there she is pregnant with no place to go.

She turns to the boyfriend who pretty much says, "Well, it's just as much mine so baby I'll take you in and we can live happily never after."

Then, B loses the baby and the boyfriend kicks her out. B goes crying back to hubby saying she's sorry she done him wrong and will never stray again.

By the time I knew B, she and her hubby were still together and were avid churchgoers and glued at the hip.

I wonder about them sometimes.

I guess she realized the error of her ways and recommitted herself to their marriage, but can a marriage really go one once someone has cheated?

The last I heard she and hubby were expecting their firstborn. I'm happy for them and for being able to stick things out, but I've always wondered about hubby and their marriage.

I clearly remember that when I worked with B she never did any afterwork activities (happy hour with editorial) and never worked late nights. She'd always call home to let hubby know when she was leaving and if she had to be at work on a weekend then he was there with her.

I've been in hubby's shoes and it's not a style that works for me.

Kiss Me Deadly

Big Ole' Jed Had a Light On - Man, I was singing this Leta Ford Classic in my head just this morning and realized it's "Kiss Me Deadly," not, "gently."

Okay, I'll admit I have a love of Leta Ford so how could I not go with that for a title.

Seriously, 10 years ago today I kissed a very sweet young man for the very first time.

I've already retold the story of our first kiss in The Magic and pretty much covered a few other details of our first date in To All the Boys I've Loved Before.

I know there are a lot more details about that day that I've left out. Like the fact that even though it was August in New Orleans the sky was a beautiful bright blue and you could feel the promise of fall in the air.

It's probably the only date I wasn't nervous about because I didn't know it was a date.

Which happens when the gentleman tells you he invited another girl, but she backed out.

I know, why did I say yes right?

Well, S and I were friends so I didn't really care that he didn't see me in "that way." I'd written him off as a romantic interest months before and figured we were just buds.

It's the only first kiss that I can remember.

That I can actually say, "Our first kiss was on August 18, 1994." It's also the only first date that I can pinpoint that way.

I remember other vague details. The misting tent that was awesome because August in New Orleans is hot. The misting tent that I kept going back to because S would pull me close to him, grab my ass and slowly slide his thumb across my nipple. Which isn't really my memory as S remembers it better than I do, but it sure does sound like something I'd keep going back for.

I also remember taking a break in the shade to sit down and listen to the music. With S's head in my lap, me stroking his hair and realizing he'd fallen asleep in my lap. I remember checking him out while he slept, thinking, "Mayn! He's CUTE!" and deciding against leaning down to kiss him because it would wake him up.

When the day ended, S drove me back to my house and while we were stopped at a red light he looked over at me. I was giving him a goofy look and then I reached over, grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him to me for a long, slow kiss.

And that was that.

That's how the date ended. I never saw or heard from him again.

Until I called him ten years later.

And you know what?

His kisses are still as sweet as I remember them.

Yesterday

August 12, 1993

R and I haven't officially been a couple for a month now, but yesterday we ended it for good.

It just doesn't make any sense, you know?

Going on like we're going to date even when I'm away. He's got all kinds of fun stuff coming up with senior year and I'll be a freshman in college. It's not like I plan on having all kinds of sex with all kinds of guys or anything, but I want to be able to see people.

Right now I work with a lot of really cute guys and I flirt with a lot of them. Well, with most of them. Usually I'm just nice, so I have a lot of guy friends.

Like Jimmy. I went to clock out last night and he was there punching out for his final day. He grabbed me, picked me up and twirled me around - excited that he'd never have to come back here again. Then he asked me out for that drink we'd been talking about all summer. I said sure!
I mean, I like Jimmy. We've talked a lot the last few weeks and it's not like it really means anything. As sweet and cute as he is, he's kind of boring.

I have been flirting lately with S. It's stupid because it's not like he's all that into me or anything, but I can't help but flirt with him.

Ugh, last night the toilet in the ladies room was backed up and people kept using it. Of course, it was my turn to clean the bathrooms. I took one look in there and went running to find S. I waited outside in the hall while S plunged the toilet. Ewwww.

When he walked out of the ladies he looked at me and said, "Oh, you owe me big time for that." I smiled and said, "Hey, anytime - just let me know."

He kind of laughed and said, "Yeah, you and I have got to go out."

I went back to work and didn't think anything about it.

Then later on I was sweeping the dining room and getting ready to vaccuum it when S walked in and asked if I was using the vaccuum right then.

I said, "No, but I will in a little while."

He said, "I'm going to take it right now, but when you need it come get me."

It was just too easy.

I got closer to him and said, "Don't you worry. As soon as I need it you'll be the first person I'll go to."

He just smiled and shook his head and walked out.

I was just about to say, "I wish!" outloud when he poked his head back in the dining room and said, "Yeah, you and I have got to go out.

Then later on I was done and waiting to leave (now they've got this new thing where no one leaves until everyone is done) so I hopped up on the counter and just waited. S came out and found me up there.

I said, "Hey S!" and leaned back on my hands, raised an eyebrow and smiled.

He walked over to me, put his hands on my legs and pushed them open a little.

"You and I right here?" he asked.

I shrugged and asked, "Why not?"

S, "You - are trouble."

Earlier I was in his workroom just trying to get away from the noise for a little while and I got to fiddling around with some electrical cords. It was just the two of us and I said something about him tying me up with them.

It's not like it means anything. I mean, S is hot and all but it's not like it means what I want it to mean.

It's like when he asked me out on Sunday - he didn't really mean it.

August 17, 2004

Eleven years later I found out that S did mean it.

He really did want to go out and hang out with me. I think when I was 18 and he was 23 that it all just seemed scary. You know, he was a man. But, he was really just a guy.

For all my big talk, I was really inexperienced and a great big chicken.

Dark Mood

Last night I picked up my mail and realized that my account was overdrawn, AGAIN!!!

Nothing makes me feel more like a moron than realizing I spent more than I earned. I mean, HELLO!!!!!

So, that sent me into a bad, bad mood.

Add to that the fact that earlier in the day, after a long weekend together, I said good-bye to my long-distance Sweetie and that I woke up with a killer pain in my neck, my bad mood turned into a foul mood.

The good news is I looked up my account online, added up my bills and I have enough money right now to make it to the end of the month and even put a little something in savings.

That feels good.

But, the pain in my kneck is still there. I slept on a heating pad last night and while it helped, I had to keep waking up every few hours to turn it back on everytime it started to hurt. I don't know what's up with it, well I think I know but I can't be sure. For now it's ibuprofen and rest.

At some point during the weekend I wanted a kiss from my SO and my SO whispered to me from his side of the bed, "Come over . . . " and it made me ache just a little. I guess because it reminded me of the fact that we don't have a "normal" relationship.

One of those where you call the other and say, "Come over . . . "

So you look forward to the weekends when you're together and try not to think about the fact that the relationship is starting to look costly on paper.

Because when you go in town you can't be "together" unless you rent a room ($$) and then there's gas money to drive 4.5 hours ($$) and eating out ($$). I step away from it and realize that it's costing us both a significant amount to keep this thing going and you start to wonder, "Is it worth it?"

There are times when I think it is, but there are times when I think it isn't.

I don't know, maybe I'm just in a cruddy mood and having to deal with anything is more than I can handle right now.

Creep

Yeah, I kind of feel like one.

Do you ever just have one of those fabulous moments in your life where your actions just completely wreck everything?

Yeah, I had one of those this weekend.

And, I got nothing ya'll.

Just . . .

I'm sorry.

In My Life

That was my senior song. In My Life.

There are places I’ll remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I’ve loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new

Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more

Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more
In my life I love you more

I went to an all girl's school steeped in tradition and one of those is that the Butterfly's (my class mascot) ALWAYS have the same senior song. We did have an opportunity to vote for another song, but tradition won out. And I'm so glad because that song is amazing!

My reunion was last year and quite honestly, sometimes I feel like the world's worst friend. I have a tendency to move on from one phase of my life to the next and leave everything behind.

Friends included.

I'm really terrible about that and at my reunion I realized how much I had missed by not staying in touch with my friends from high school. Not just how much I missed in their lives, but how much I missed about me, too.

See, in my first two years it was just me, J9 and Nose. We were thick as thieves, but I really can't tell you how we all met. Although, I think I was the link. Meaning that I met Nose in Honors English. She sat in front of me and I had to do this goofy assignment about Nose's personality. I think I compared her to a butterfly. Which, I guess was kind of corny given that it was our class mascot.

Anyway, in the 20 minute interview required for this in-class assignment I realized Nose was the kind of girl I could hang out with. We laughed at all the same things, but more importantly, we made fun of all the same things. We read our reports out-loud and she was quite surprised that I read her so well.

I moved on to my next class which was Spanish. I sat next to J9 and would sit next to J9 in Spanish class for the next three years.

J9 had gorgeous, long, brown curly hair and kind of looks like Julie Ormond.

Anyway, she was really quiet but again we had to do a "get-to-know" you exercise and I instantly found her to be a cool chick.

We had lunch right after Spanish and since neither of us knew anyone J9 and I walked down together. In the cafeteria I saw Nose and said, "Hey Nose!" She turned around startled and said, "Oh god, no one here knows me by that name! Hearing it just made me feel so comfortable. Like I know where I am instead of feeling like I look, which you know - HELLO, is completely lost."

The three of us laughed and sat together at the same place we'd sit for the next four years.

And that was it. It was that easy for the three of us to come together and I feel so lucky for that.
See, I've never really had female friends.

When I was in seventh grade I transferred to a Catholic school from public school and it was a difficult transition.

All of the kids had known each other since kindergarten and were super close. They let me in for maybe three months and then someone made up a ridiculous rumor about me and I found out because when I walked up to a group of girls chatting, they literally shut me out. I tried to take a spot where there was an opening in the group and they promptly shifted to shut it.

I don't even remember what the rumor was but at 12 it was a life defining moment for me. I never really trusted girls after that. So, meeting J9 and Nose was awesome!

Other girls joined J9, Nose and I at the lunchtable and stuff and by senior year our little group of three had turned into 9. J9 and I remained the closest. Probably because we were both Hispanic and lived closest to each other. In high school, sometimes proximity is all it takes to make people close.

At our 10 year reunion they gave us nametags with our senior picture on them. J9 turned to me and said, "Remember the day I went to have this picture taken?" I shook my head and said, "No, was I there?"

Her mouth fell open and she said, "You don't remember? We went to my mom's stylist and she was going to blow my hair out but instead she gave me this hideous bouffant! When I got in the car I started to cry because it was for senior pics, but you said not to worry about it. That we could go to your house and wash it and re-style it."

Me, "Oh god, I remember going with you to the salon, but I don't remember anything after that."

J9, "I was always glad that you were there because I shudder to think what my senior picture would have looked like otherwise."

And that's what the reunion was like.

J9 and I reminiscing about high school and all the goofy stuff we had gotten into. As the night wore on we goofed off with Nose, too. I don't know when it happened but at some point, as I felt the three of us fall into our easy rhythm I realized something.

The best parts of who I am (sarcastic, witty, silly, open, emotional . . .) are because of these women.

J9's goofiness and ability to assess a situation and Nose's sarcasm and wit are all traits that I see in myself and I wonder if I would be the woman I am today without their influence in my life.

The three of us are all strong, independent, outgoing women and I can't help but think we helped each other become who we are today. When I think about that, I'm incredibly grateful that they touched my life.

As graduation was approaching, J9 and I drifted apart and then had a massive fight that led to us not talking to each other. Nose had already gotten closer to another girl in our group so I didn't really see her much the summer before college. Besides, I was working at a place with kids around my age so I had a whole new group of friends.

So that was it, I turned my back on my high school friends and moved on.

Sure, there were moments of teenage agony here and there, but high school really was one of the sweetest times in my life. I know I've polished my memories so that now they are just this beautiful, gleaming treasure, but I can't think of another time in my life when I felt that good. Lord knows, I didn't peak in high school but those were the days I didn't have to worry about ANYTHING. I partied in college, but somehow it was different.

And now, when I look at my high school's website to see what's going on with the alumnae, I see pictures of current students and my heart aches.

It aches for all of the things I've left behind and all of the things I didn't appreciate and relish when I had them.

I look at the pictures of these beautiful, fresh faced girls and I want to tell all of them,

"Forget about your thighs, your hair and that stupid boy that hasn't called you back! Look around you and have a great time."

Because in life there are no do-overs.

You only get one chance to be young and carefree, so enjoy the hell out of it.

(To the Juniors and Seniors)

And, have a little sex.

Turns out it's not that bigga deal.

Stupid Car

Yesterday, I was in the parking lot of Great Big Stupid-Mart when I accidentally flicked the rear, driver's side window switch. I heard the window start to roll down and jumped a little thinking, "Why did I do that?"

So, I flicked the lever to roll the window back up and all I heard were some really frightening crunching sounds. Like in the movies I said, "Noooooooo . . . " all in slow mo and shit.

I sat in the Stupid-Mart parking lot thinking, "Shit, shit shit . . . " the last thing I need right now is an expensive electrical problem. I make good money, but the truth is since the divorce my checking account hasn't been brimming over with extra cash.

So, last night I got on the phone with mom and told her about my car. I got really frustrated about the car and then I started to cry.

Plain and simple, I am tired of having to take care of myself.

I know, I'm whining but deal okay - this is my blog and if you don't like it then too damn bad.

Anyway, while I'm crying mom asks, "Are you crying?"

But she asked it like Tom Hanks in a League of Their Own and I was bracing for her to yell, "There's no crying in baseball!"

But she didn't.

She did go on to tell me that there are people who have a lot less than I do and crying over a car window just really isn't worth it.

I know she was just trying to tell me that everything would be okay. And, I know it will be. After we hung up she called my dad in Honduras to tell him about me and he called me later that night.

He said, "Hey, I talked to your mom and she said you were pretty upset about your car. What happened?"

I told him the story, without crying, and he just said, "This is nothing to get upset about. Listen, you go get the estimate and tell me how much it is. I'll send you the check. I know you're an adult, but you DO have parents and we're here to help you when we can. So, go, get it fixed and let me know."

And then I really wanted to cry.

In part because my mom and dad are amazing and willing to help out my brother and I whenever we need them with no strings attached.

But, I also wanted to cry because I'm 29 and still getting money from mom and dad.

It's a Beautiful Morning

The sun is shining and the sky is blue and I got to take a shower with my boyfriend this morning.

No, this isn't the start of my first "soft core" entry.

The thing is, I'm in this long distance thing and while it sucks to be apart, mornings like the one I had today really make it worth it when we're together.

There was no alarm clock ringing, just a gentle hand caressing the curve of my hip and a soft voice whispering, "Baby, it's time."

I'm not a morning person but that's 1,000x's better than the alarm clock.

I did grumble a little and take my time stretching, but eventually I did roll out of bed and then my incredible boyfriend joined me for a leisurely shower.

Out of the gutter ya'll!!!!

Nakedness does not imply dirtiness.

There really was no soft core porn going on, it was just two people enjoying a nice hot shower before starting the day and that's the kind of thing I miss.

Waking up next to each other, running out to catch a movie on a hot summer day, cleaning up the kitchen together - that mundane stuff that "regular couples" take for granted. But when you're apart for weeks at at time, you really appreciate the hell out of time spent together.

Maybe that's why this works.

In time, would the snoring get on my nerves?

Right now it makes me smile because I know he's sleeping hard (and when your partner has a tough time sleeping, you get really excited when you hear him snoring), but eventually would I want to smother him with my pillow?

Right now my midnight babbling is funny and kind of cute. Later on will he want to smother me with his pillow?

I just don't know. I'm not quite ready to find out either.

We both have established lives and careers in our respective cities and making a change would mean that one of us has to disrupt our lives. And as much as I want him near me, I can't ask him to make that change just for me and I know he feels he can't ask that of me.

That's okay.

We've only been seeing each other for about four months and are still in the newness of it all.

This was the first weekend we didn't spend entirely in bed and I think it was the most awesome time we've had together. Not that the sex isn't nice, believe me - IT IS - but even when you try to tell yourself it's just sex you find yourself wishing for more.

Especially when you find that person that not only laughs at all of your jokes, but makes them better. That person who can look at you with your wild morning curls without a stitch of makeup on and say with all sincerity in his voice, "Hey beautiful."

And last night, as we joked around and fell onto the bed laughing (fully-clothed)I looked up at him and thought, "Oh, I think maybe this is more."

And I think, I think maybe I saw that in his eyes, too.