I hate that my mom has put the dishes of Christmas candy on the self-same counter where my computer lives; I've already begun the process of eating, like, all of it. It's 9 a.m. This is gross.
Last night, we watched the episode of Grey's Anatomy wherein Meredith gets her appendix out and, in a morphine-induced high, joyously refers to Derek, Finn, and George as "all my boyfriends!" I feel kind of like that.
Neko's in town (cue Monica: "Who's Neko?"), and on Thursday, he joined me and Pigeon for one of my pin-up calendar photo shoots, then for dinner and Pigeon's last-minute Christmas shopping. He looks much older, and has a new, respectable haircut, but is still the same oversized child he's always been. It was refreshing, walking around downtown San Diego poking each other, laughing at things that shouldn't have been funny (as well as things that should've been - we were in Urban Outfitters after all), flirting like a couple of 10-year-olds. He's also got a serious girlfriend now, but doesn't seem at all changed for it, which is good, because I don't think I would've known what to do with a Neko with monogamy issues. At the end of the night, I gave him a hug, told him it was good to see him and that we should talk more because he always makes me laugh, and then drove home thinking, "Damn. I should've kissed his cheek."
I picked up Lui from LAX on Friday, and he took so long getting through customs that by the time he walked through the gate, I no longer had the energy to run over to him and jump into his arms like I'd planned. He's here legally now, and has until March 20-somethingth to marry me so he can stay. It's a good feeling, knowing that we're nearly through all the government red tape. I think things will be much easier once we're actually married, too: now I have the option of worrying about there being no turning back, but once we actually do it, there's just no turning back. It'll be a fact, rather than a looming deadline, and that just seems so much easier to handle.
We spent the better part of Christmas Eve with the girl-who-I'm-pretty-sure-sent-Lui-that-email (I'll need to come up with a good name for her), as she goes to our church and sings in the choir with us. Since I can't prove she did it, we're still being friends with her, kind of pretending nothing ever happened, and kind of not telling her anything. Example: at one point that night, I left the room, and Lui made some comment about me being a pain in the ass sometimes. Later on, I left the room again, and [Girl] reassured him, "I didn't say anything to Elle, about you calling her a pain in the ass." Como what? Like that was a big secret? But I digress.
Christmas day was really nice; Lui was thrilled with the Sea World Trainer-for-a-Day package I got him, and the calendar also went over really well, twice. He tried to make me promise I wouldn't show the pictures to anyone, surtout W, but I told him I couldn't make a promise that I might not keep. I'll do my best, but I don't ever want to feel like I'm not allowed to be myself. And myself flashes her scantily-clad body around to people who will tell her she's hot. I told him if he tries to stifle the personality he fell in love with in the first place, we won't have anything left. But that I'll do my best not to hurt him. Theoretically, I do see the fine line.
Hopefully it will be better after he meets W, which is probably going to happen today, seeing as how I got suckered into picking him up from the airport this afternoon (and by "got suckered into," I mean "offered"). I'm really excited though. Stupidly excited, even though I know now that it probably isn't going to "go there," since when I tried to ask W, over IM during the height of the calendar crisis, to speculate on what might have happened between us had I not left the country that one time, he refused to have the conversation. "Not now, not ever," he'd said. Further proof (if a bit disappointing) that he's a good guy. But if nothing is progressing, then certainly nothing is changing either, because when I said I hoped we could stay the kind of friends where we can flirt and tease and joke around, but still always come back to the reality of my being in a relationship, he said simply, "I want that." And so I'm already entertaining the idea of, in a few weeks' time, asking him how hot it is to know that there's a married woman out there who totally has a thing for him. Now, I repeat: I wouldn't ever cheat on Lui - even if it comes down to the very last layer of resistance, which is thinking about how much it would break my heart to ever hurt him, that's more than enough to make me keep it in my pants - but I think these little fantasies and flirtations are healthy; they remind me that I'm young and virile and sexy. I know not every married girl thinks this way, but I do, and I'm not alone.
Oh, and to top it all off, I had another dream about Piano Man last night (cue Monica: "Who's Piano Man?"). Not the usual, "we're trying to be friends and it's us against the world" dream, but an actual dream, where we were fucking upstairs at La Paloma, and it was really good, and we made some pact to meet up and do it once a year, for old times' sake.
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Friday, December 22, 2006
Because I like to make the same mistake twice.
I'm making another calendar.
This one is more clothed than the last, with sort of a "now you can't say you've never seen me in ___________" theme. And it's coming with a disclaimer: Lui can't see it until he understands and agrees that the pictures are for him, but moreso they're for me, to share with whomever I please.
On Monday, I sent him some pictures that were just for him: I was alone at work, so naturally I photocopied my ass and my breasts (in thong and bra, respectively - gotta leave something to the imagination, right?) But he's in the air now, on his way back here, so I assume these documents didn't arrive in time.
One thing I have learned from all this, besides to seriously limit who reads my blog (there are just five of you now), is that I need to work on my relationship with Lui. When that psychic at the party told me I was going to end up leaving Lui for another guy, well, I did what any girl in my situation would do and had vodka for dinner. And then, the next day, after nursing my emotional hangover by repeatedly apologizing to everyone I'd seen/spoken to/texted the night before, I decided to get proactive. Because my feelings on psychics are this: they're like dogs; they can smell fear. So they pick up on whatever you're feeling at that moment and then capitalize on it, reading how your life will turn out if you continue on the path that you're on. And not only do I already have a tendency to wax nostalgic/wonder about the sliding doors/and repeatedly ask what the hell I'm doing with my life, but I was also staring down having to get married in three weeks (it's now two - the "real" wedding's still in July, but the marriage for the greencard is fast approaching)... So yes. If I continued on that path of completely freaking out about my relationship and general future, I probably would run off with someone else.
But I'm not actually gonna. Lui is, if not quite everything I've ever wanted, definitely everything I've ever needed. God might find it funny that He matched me, a huge flirt with a flair for the dramatic, with someone so oversensitive and stupidly devoted, but He didn't get it wrong. Lui loves me, he takes care of me, he lets me take care of him; he's friendly and charming and has an idiotic sense of humor that makes me laugh whether I care to admit it or not (think punny); being with him is comfortable and secure, he'll make a kickass father. Basically, he's a Husband, not a Boyfriend. And if I mourn the Boyfriend, it's only because we always want what we can't have.
What I have to remember is that it's down to me to make my own happiness: if I want excitement, I have to work to make my relationship with Lui exciting. For all the flirting and teasing I do with other guys, I have to save some of it for him. It's okay to have fantasies, but I have to let him turn me on too, or what's the point? He's the only one I'm going to get to have sex with - lots of good, baby-making sex (but not too much of that too soon) - so I damn well better want to.
And just because I have to say it: shame on whoever sent that email and tried to imply that I am now or would ever cheat on Lui. For fuck's sake.
This one is more clothed than the last, with sort of a "now you can't say you've never seen me in ___________" theme. And it's coming with a disclaimer: Lui can't see it until he understands and agrees that the pictures are for him, but moreso they're for me, to share with whomever I please.
On Monday, I sent him some pictures that were just for him: I was alone at work, so naturally I photocopied my ass and my breasts (in thong and bra, respectively - gotta leave something to the imagination, right?) But he's in the air now, on his way back here, so I assume these documents didn't arrive in time.
One thing I have learned from all this, besides to seriously limit who reads my blog (there are just five of you now), is that I need to work on my relationship with Lui. When that psychic at the party told me I was going to end up leaving Lui for another guy, well, I did what any girl in my situation would do and had vodka for dinner. And then, the next day, after nursing my emotional hangover by repeatedly apologizing to everyone I'd seen/spoken to/texted the night before, I decided to get proactive. Because my feelings on psychics are this: they're like dogs; they can smell fear. So they pick up on whatever you're feeling at that moment and then capitalize on it, reading how your life will turn out if you continue on the path that you're on. And not only do I already have a tendency to wax nostalgic/wonder about the sliding doors/and repeatedly ask what the hell I'm doing with my life, but I was also staring down having to get married in three weeks (it's now two - the "real" wedding's still in July, but the marriage for the greencard is fast approaching)... So yes. If I continued on that path of completely freaking out about my relationship and general future, I probably would run off with someone else.
But I'm not actually gonna. Lui is, if not quite everything I've ever wanted, definitely everything I've ever needed. God might find it funny that He matched me, a huge flirt with a flair for the dramatic, with someone so oversensitive and stupidly devoted, but He didn't get it wrong. Lui loves me, he takes care of me, he lets me take care of him; he's friendly and charming and has an idiotic sense of humor that makes me laugh whether I care to admit it or not (think punny); being with him is comfortable and secure, he'll make a kickass father. Basically, he's a Husband, not a Boyfriend. And if I mourn the Boyfriend, it's only because we always want what we can't have.
What I have to remember is that it's down to me to make my own happiness: if I want excitement, I have to work to make my relationship with Lui exciting. For all the flirting and teasing I do with other guys, I have to save some of it for him. It's okay to have fantasies, but I have to let him turn me on too, or what's the point? He's the only one I'm going to get to have sex with - lots of good, baby-making sex (but not too much of that too soon) - so I damn well better want to.
And just because I have to say it: shame on whoever sent that email and tried to imply that I am now or would ever cheat on Lui. For fuck's sake.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Ice cream, you scream.
Every so often, Squeak & I go out for "ice cream." I've found that "ice cream" is code for many things in this world: Sunshine once explained to me how she and her childhood fuck buddy have an intricate ice cream code, wherein vanilla dates are platonic and chocolate dates are, well, not. In my case, "ice cream" with Squeak is code for gossip, and is even code for ice cream, since we usually really do purchase and consume a vegan variation on the traditional dessert. (Although there was that one time where no ice cream, soy or otherwise, was actually involved.)
Sunday night was a more traditional session: we went to Trader Joe's and bought a quart of vanilla So Delicious (tastes like eggnog), then sat in the cafe area of Ralphs to eat it and discuss our respective quarter-life crises. The conversation was long, and helpful, and we eventually concluded that in some ways, the early-mid twenties can be worse than adolescense.
Yesterday, though, two things happened which I feel are relevant to the concerns we discussed the night before. First, I was at the gym having a PT session for BodyPump (only the coolest group fitness class ever). We're mostly working on my squats and lunges, trying to regain control over my problem knee, but the trainer (nicknamed Mario because she's so compact, with short hair, and when teaching aerobics resembles the famed plumber) thought it'd be a good idea to check my form on all the other exercises as well. So we ran through them - chest press, biceps, triceps, dead lifts and rows, upright rows, clean-and-press, and overhead press - and she kept remarking on how good my form was.
"You're going to be an instructor," she said at one point.
"Funny you should mention it," I answered. "Whenever I get tired of being a secretary, I tell myself the exact same thing."
Then, when I got to work and checked my personal email, as I do, I had a forwarded "List of Rules for being Human" from my mom. And there was a Rule #6. And that rule was this:
6. 'There' is no better than 'Here'.
Wherever you are in life is 'Here'.
From any 'Here' there will always be a 'There' that looks better.
However, this is an illusion.
When your 'There' has become a 'Here', you will simply obtain another 'There' that will again look better than 'Here'.
Well, fuck. That explains W.
Sunday night was a more traditional session: we went to Trader Joe's and bought a quart of vanilla So Delicious (tastes like eggnog), then sat in the cafe area of Ralphs to eat it and discuss our respective quarter-life crises. The conversation was long, and helpful, and we eventually concluded that in some ways, the early-mid twenties can be worse than adolescense.
Yesterday, though, two things happened which I feel are relevant to the concerns we discussed the night before. First, I was at the gym having a PT session for BodyPump (only the coolest group fitness class ever). We're mostly working on my squats and lunges, trying to regain control over my problem knee, but the trainer (nicknamed Mario because she's so compact, with short hair, and when teaching aerobics resembles the famed plumber) thought it'd be a good idea to check my form on all the other exercises as well. So we ran through them - chest press, biceps, triceps, dead lifts and rows, upright rows, clean-and-press, and overhead press - and she kept remarking on how good my form was.
"You're going to be an instructor," she said at one point.
"Funny you should mention it," I answered. "Whenever I get tired of being a secretary, I tell myself the exact same thing."
Then, when I got to work and checked my personal email, as I do, I had a forwarded "List of Rules for being Human" from my mom. And there was a Rule #6. And that rule was this:
6. 'There' is no better than 'Here'.
Wherever you are in life is 'Here'.
From any 'Here' there will always be a 'There' that looks better.
However, this is an illusion.
When your 'There' has become a 'Here', you will simply obtain another 'There' that will again look better than 'Here'.
Well, fuck. That explains W.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Good news: I'm single for the next two weeks!
At least, that's what I've been telling people. Lui is gone back to Wales to have his visa interview, his bachelor party, and an early Christmas with his family. I look at this as the temporary regaining of my freedom; I can go out with my friends without worrying about him being on his own, I can stay in on a night like tonight without him getting antsy to go do things, I can talk to and flirt with whoever I please without wondering if he'll hear me - hence the tagline.
Phrasing it as such - telling everyone that I'm temporarily single, that is - is entertaining and has been working pretty well for me... Except when it hasn't. I tried it on W this afternoon, sent him an IM while I was at work, then, because he didn't answer right away, closed the window, continued working, and forgot about it. About an hour later, my cell phone rang, with a non-number that showed up only as "Call." I almost didn't answer.
"Elle? It's W. What do you mean you're single again?"
"Oh hi. This isn't your number..."
"I'm at work-"
"So am I-"
"I need an explanation."
"Well, Lui's at home for the next two weeks, which I figure makes me as good as single."
"Oh. Well, I'll be there on the 27th."
"Yeah, he gets back the 22nd-"
"I know." The disappointment was almost palpable on both ends of the phone. Not that I even actually look at this time as an opportunity to cheat on Lui, even if W was here, but it felt like we were missing out on something nonetheless.
"We're still on for the 28th though, right?" I asked, trying to change the subject and the mood.
"Yep. It's on the calendar."
"Mine too: 'Save for W' written really big to cover the whole day. No real plan though."
"It's better that way. Alright, bye."
"That's it?"
"Yeah... I just needed an explanation."
"I know." We hung up.
As an afterthought, I sent him a quick email, apologizing for not being able to give the explanation he actually wanted, and asking if he still plans on buying Killer Bunnies for us (I once joked that it would be the only way he'd ever get me to game with him). When I got home, I had two replies. The first just answered the Killer Bunnies question: "of course!" The second, sent a few minutes later, added, "You could always send me a couple more months to make up for it!" (Not too long ago, I sent him a few naked pictures from the calendar I made for Lui last Christmas. Yes, I know what a horrible fiancée that makes me.)
Okay, so remember being a little kid and really having to pee? The whine? The dance? The adrenaline? The urgency? This is how I feel. It's not an altogether bad thing - I'd rather not be so comfortable in my life and relationship as to be bored - but it's not really a nice feeling either, knowing there's nothing I can do to relieve it. Because even if I was a cheater, one stolen night isn't going to fulfill this one, and despite what some may believe, the world doesn't grant parallel lives.
Phrasing it as such - telling everyone that I'm temporarily single, that is - is entertaining and has been working pretty well for me... Except when it hasn't. I tried it on W this afternoon, sent him an IM while I was at work, then, because he didn't answer right away, closed the window, continued working, and forgot about it. About an hour later, my cell phone rang, with a non-number that showed up only as "Call." I almost didn't answer.
"Elle? It's W. What do you mean you're single again?"
"Oh hi. This isn't your number..."
"I'm at work-"
"So am I-"
"I need an explanation."
"Well, Lui's at home for the next two weeks, which I figure makes me as good as single."
"Oh. Well, I'll be there on the 27th."
"Yeah, he gets back the 22nd-"
"I know." The disappointment was almost palpable on both ends of the phone. Not that I even actually look at this time as an opportunity to cheat on Lui, even if W was here, but it felt like we were missing out on something nonetheless.
"We're still on for the 28th though, right?" I asked, trying to change the subject and the mood.
"Yep. It's on the calendar."
"Mine too: 'Save for W' written really big to cover the whole day. No real plan though."
"It's better that way. Alright, bye."
"That's it?"
"Yeah... I just needed an explanation."
"I know." We hung up.
As an afterthought, I sent him a quick email, apologizing for not being able to give the explanation he actually wanted, and asking if he still plans on buying Killer Bunnies for us (I once joked that it would be the only way he'd ever get me to game with him). When I got home, I had two replies. The first just answered the Killer Bunnies question: "of course!" The second, sent a few minutes later, added, "You could always send me a couple more months to make up for it!" (Not too long ago, I sent him a few naked pictures from the calendar I made for Lui last Christmas. Yes, I know what a horrible fiancée that makes me.)
Okay, so remember being a little kid and really having to pee? The whine? The dance? The adrenaline? The urgency? This is how I feel. It's not an altogether bad thing - I'd rather not be so comfortable in my life and relationship as to be bored - but it's not really a nice feeling either, knowing there's nothing I can do to relieve it. Because even if I was a cheater, one stolen night isn't going to fulfill this one, and despite what some may believe, the world doesn't grant parallel lives.
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