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.