All That Glitters...

For those who know me personally, I am the "glitter queen".  One of my trademarks is wearing loose glitter, to add a bit of sparkle to my already unique personality.  But recently, I haven't been feeling as glistening, sparkling, or luminescent.  I haven't felt like myself.  With the lack of a paying job after being let go with no reason, I've had a lot of time to myself, and have been doing a good bit of soul searching.  Which up until recently, wasn't that great.  I had a hard time trying to figure out who I really was, what I wanted out of life, and trying to move forward with all that.  This past weekend finally opened my eyes to a lot of answers to those questions.

My weekend started with seeing Carlos Mencia live on stage.  My jaw hurt from laughing so hard, and I hadn't let myself relax and enjoy anything like that in a long time.  His comments and jokes, though offensive as they are, were great.  He covered everything from being overweight, to the shooting in Colorado, to Whitney Houston's death to racism.  He always has a great message though that tells us we NEED to laugh at ourselves to make it in this world.  We can't take everything so seriously.  If we do, then we become the nut jobs that go out mass murdering people over a broken nail.  It made me realize that I was taking a lot of things in my personal inventory too seriously.  I realized I had to loosen up.  Not long before that performence, a dear friend of mine and I had coffee and had said similar things, but in a much more blunt, no holds back kind of way.  He basically said at times, I was being a bitch.  That I was being selfish, and not appreciating what I had in life.  I wasn't happy about that statement, but needed to hear it.  I don't know if I did in person, but I thank him for that.

Later this weekend, I went to visit some long lost friends from middle schoool/high school in Deleware.  I only knew them for 2 1/2 years, but they are some of the few people I still keep in touch with after moving around being an Air Force brat for so long.  I was given a tour of my old stomping grounds, after not being there for 11+ years.  Boy did things change!  The housing on the base was demolished, and the house I grew up in for those 2 1/2 years no longer existed.  The houses were a totally different design!  I was utterly lost until I saw the middle school, which was the only thing left unchanged.  The sight of that school triggered a levy break that flooded my mind of memories.  Great memories that I cherish, but had been drowning out of my mind with negative ones of everything I had experienced after I moved away from that place.  Memories of my friends, performances, inspiring teachers, dates at the bowling ally, games at school, everything washed over me.  I felt like I was 14 again.  An age where I was a heck of a lot more innocent, and a lot happier.  With the exception of the birth of my daughters, those were the best days of my life.  Days I don't recognize in the now. 

After the tour, and feeling the glow of my childhood returning, I went to a housewarming party with my old friends.  I got to meet new ones, and again, laughed so hard, my jaw was hurting.  I, as usual, assumed that a "house warming" meant it was in a townhome, apartment, or something of the like.  I never in my life imagined that it would be a trailor home.  Now, I lived in a trailer before, but it was never my choice of residence.  And I always held a resentment towards people living in one, due to my own personal experiences.  I looked down on them, as if the stereotypes were true of people who live in them.  Getting ready for this event, I dressed as I thought appropriate.  A nice dress, ballet flats, and my usual sparkles, make-up, and jewelry,  which can be seen by my profile picture on this site.  I entered the trailer, and felt ostracized instantly.  Everyone else was in jeans, t-shirts, flip flops, little make-up (if any).  I felt like the odd one out, but oddly enough, didn't feel judged.  It took me a while to figure out why.  I sat there, and made mental notes of everyone in the room, and was thrown by the fact that they didn't seem to be doing the same to me.  As we ate, chatted, and I relaxed, I got to see the reason as to why my fears of judgement weren't coming to volition.  They didn't care what I looked like, what my make-up was like, or how I spoke.  All things I worry about on a daily basis.  I was the one judging them. For no reason.  I was the bitch my friend was trying to tell me I was starting to become.

I am very weary of how I come across to others.  It was instilled into me as a child that how others see you is important.  Almost as important as your education.  After being overweight since 3rd grade, I became almost obsessed over my appearance, and only recently had succeeded in at least the weight loss portion of my mask.  I always have make-up on, in a fashion that I feel makes me look my best, even when I'm at home all day.  I don't dare let anyone see me without it, not even my roommates.  I only have a few outfits I wear almost daily, because they show off my best features.  I don't dare let you see a bruise or my largly muscular calves.  Those are flaws, and I shouldn't have flaws.

After getting to see these amazing people at their best; laughing at each other, with each other, and even making fun of the one black guy in the room being the blame for everything (he joked about it more than anyone else!), it made me see that true friends don't care if you wear the most form fitting dress or a pair of jeans that a worn and comfier than wearing a cloud.  They don't care if your hair isn't flat ironed perfectly or still has a few kinks in it from being braided the night before.  True friends care about making you laugh, making you see the mistakes you are doing in your life, and point them out to you.   They will knock over your block pyramid, laugh in your face, then help you build it back up again. The people I knew back home, didn't help me rebuild.  They gossip about each other, make fun of each other (behind their backs) and will look down on you if you look a little bit "WalMart". I realized these weren't my true friends.  The friends I came to visit, some I hadn't seen in over a decade, were the same people I had known and loved all those years ago.  And they still loved me.  REALLY loved me.

The next day, I went to the Baltimore Orioles game at Camden for an event for one of my DE friends Air Force Squadron.  It was also a chance to do some PR for my organization.  We ended up getting rained out, but all had a great time chatting and enjoying the ballpark treats huddled under the awnings.  After going home, and after an emotional weekend with one of my dearest friends, I had a major heart to heart with my fly boy. 

For the past 13 years that we've known each other, after I moved away from Dover, we have only been able to see each other once every year, or for a while, every 2-3 years.  We text almost every day now, but had lost contact a few times after my initial moves for years at a time.  But this person, to me, has been the one person I look to for advice, a shoulder to cry on, a good laugh, or a much needed hug. He has been the one person who has been there for me, even through all my trials and tribulations, mistakes, and "f-ups".  He's also been the one man who has broken my heart over the years more than anyone else.  We met in my freshman year of high school, and dated a whopping 3 months.  He broke up with me back then with a note he had his friend give me, since he was too scared to give it to me himself.  Years later, after making peace, and finding each other again, we talked, and the relationship was close to wear it was.  Until he told me when he came to visit me all the way in Indiana at my college that he was engaged.  I was crushed again.  I didn't realize that the feelings I had for him were still there.  We lost contact again for a few years, and I got married and had my oldest.  After leaving the abusive spouse, my fly boy and I began talking again.  I was seeing someone else, and so was he.  The jealousy on both sides was there.  But, we had made a pact that if things didn't work out, we'd try again.  That, or just get married when we turned 30 for the tax benefits.  I had my 2nd daughter, and was in that relationship for quite a while.  My fly boy got married and had a family of his own.  But when he named his daughter after my second daughter's middle name, I could see the love was still there.  We didn't see each other again for a while (last July), but I was violently ill, and in a rough place.  I had lost my job, a relationship, and was not handling it well. He didn't care.  He was there to listen, and to comfort me.  I took it for granted back then, since I wasn't emotionally capable of being grateful back then. 

After spending most of the weekend with him, and friends I hadn't spent the time I should have with, I broke down to him.  I couldn't do the once-a-year-maybe-more meetings anymore.  It tore me apart to see the wonderful people that truly care for me and love me for who I am only once every 12 months, or more.  I love them just as much as they love me, and apologized for not telling them so.  I apologized for ignoreing them at times, when they didn't always ignore me.  And I finally expressed that after all the hearbreak and hurtful things he had done to me over the years, I still loved him no matter what.  I was still here 13 years later, smiling almost the entire time.  Feeling at home.  Feeling like I could strip the make-up off my face, and know he wouldn't care if I had circles under my eyes or a scar from a zit.  I felt glowing with him even without my glitter on my chest.  It was one of the most bittersweet cries I had had in a long time.  Bitter, because my pride had built it up inside for the past few days, probably years. Sweet, because the reaction from him was mutual.  We both finally got to express that the love that is there, whatever form it may be, will always be there.  And we both made a pact to change the long term hiatuses we had been doing over the dozen plus years. 

We also made a promise to each other to be better about expressing our feelings, no matter what they are.  Being stoic, graceful and high and mighty has made me look fake.  And in a way, I am when I'm like that.  I'm not honest when someone asks me if I'm having a bad day, and saying I'm fine.  When I'm mad at someone, and I hold it in, and don't tell them they've offended or hurt me, I'm only hurting myself.  After 13 years of this, I finally see now what a lot of people have been saying about me (mainly behind my back).  Although I shine, smile and carry myself in away that puts me above others, internally I am lackluster, gray and rotting.  The emotional pain festers and grows to a cancerous tumour that has been slowly eating me away to a hollow shell of a friend, mother, and lover.  Thank to my flyboy and a few others, I see now that I must tear down the wall of glam that I put on everyday and allow myself to be just that.  Myself.  By doing that, I also have to allow others in.  Allow them to make fun of me, make me laugh, and help me rebuild my block pyramid. 

I only hope that the pact we made to see each other in October, to continue to grow our relationship in whatever capacity, and to be honest and open with each other about everything will be everlasting.  It won't be easy, and it won't happen overnight, but if we work on it one day at a time, our relationship will blossom to something even more amazing than it is now.  I also made a pact to myself to try to do this with all my relationships.  To just be me.  And to remember that even though I will still wear my glitter powder, not all that glitters is gold. I'm going to have to mine a little deeper to get past the pyrite and to the real deal.

Truthiness - Part Deux

            Alright, after leaving the library after posting the first edition of this blog, I had so many ideas and afterthoughts that came to mind.  I was listening to my peers and realizing had so much more to add and possibly correct.  I don’t like to delete anything I write.  It’s how I feel in that moment, and don’t want to deny myself that truth.  So, I will now continue the topic with a little more umph…

            Part Une was more so ranting than discussion.  I have been working on this issue of honesty/truth for quite a while now, and more so in the past week than previously.  Truth amongst things like friendships, work, and myself.  Today, after having a completely honest conversation with someone about my true feelings about a situation between us, I have a lot more understanding and respect for them, and vice versa.  I also have a MUCH better understanding of myself and what I’m looking for in life.  Once we put our force fields down, we were able to calmly say what we needed to say, and accept the other person’s side.  The relief was as intense as lifting an elephant off of a packing peanut.  We not only realized that we were both fretting over nothing, but also that the whole damn thing was just plain stupid to begin with.  The truth was, we just made a mountain out of a mole hill.  When you get into your head like that, not carrying the torch of truth, you tend to get lost in the darkness of your emotions.  

          I also thought about the little white lies we all tell ourselves to help us sleep at night.  Our weight on our driver's license.   Mine is actually going WAY down for once...  Then, we lie when someone asks us how we're doing, and we just instinctively say "Fine".  "Fine" stands for "F-ed up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional".  I catch myself doing it all the time, and my one dear friend advised me to be totally honest in everything I say.  Even if I'm PMSing, or menstruating or constipated.  When someone asks me, I have to answer.  Not the most uplifting experience at first.  But, oddly enough, it gives some people more respect for you.  When you realise that there is no shame in life, and it's qualities (good and bad), and you become honest in everything, your self confidence builds.  Mine has grown larger than Anna Nicole BEFORE Trimspa.  You begin to learn that other's people perception of you doesn't matter, even if they think you're a liar, or just stretching the truth.  you have that confidence to know that you are without fault, and learn to not give two shits about what they think.  They only think like that because they are lying themselves, about the same issue or have the same problem they are gossiping to everyone about you to and are in a massive denial.  I deal with such a person on a daily basis.  I scream, kick the massive workout bag at the Y, and just say "F-it".  She wants to talk about my life, and take my inventory, she can go right ahead.  I'm not the one giving BJ's for cigarettes... I'm sorry, did I mention that out loud?

          The truth of the matter is, honesty will set you free.  Free of guilt, the game of coming up with the next lie to fit in with the other two you made up before, and then covering all that up with another one, etc... You feel strong about yourself.  You can look yourself in the mirror and be happy with your actions.  Just give it a try.  For one week, be 100% honest in everything you say.  If you're having a crappy day, and your boss asks you, tell him/her.  If someone asks you if you really think they look fat in those jeans... tell them.  You might just save them the embarrassment of going in public with a massive muffin top.  And also, earn the respect and the knowledge that they can trust you in how things are.  Not for spite, but for the sake of being true and a friend.  You'll look in that same bathroom mirror, and see a true smile.

          Tomorrow, I am stepping into an arena where truth and honesty are ESSENTIAL.  If myself, or the other party are even the tiniest bit dishonest, all bets are off.  It'll be the Cuban Missile crisis all over again.  I really don't want a Bay of Pigs in my life right now... I am pledging my commitment to this treaty.  I respect them, and love and care for them.  I just need to tell them that I know a lot more about them then they think, and they need to know the wrongs we have both done. I just hope that the other one will honour it the same Where is Fredrick's local Swedish embassy?  I need a neutral person for back up...

Now... as for zits and wrinkles that go along with that smile... that's a whole other blog...

         

Truthiness

       “Sticks and stones will break your bones, but words will never hurt you.” That is probably the biggest crock of shit your parents will ever tell you. That taunting nursery rhyme will just set up any fun-loving, optimistic child up for epic failure. In reality, the truth hurts. It scars worse that a botched tummy tuck from a doctor who used the laughing gas on himself. But in this new phase of my life, I’m trying to be completely honest and truthful in everything. It is not a simple task by far. Herding cats is much easier. Working on this massive undertaking however has really opened up my eyes to a lot on the essence of truth and it’s relevance to life.

     After much need soul searching, with the help of a few spiritual advisors, I have been working on what they call "charactor defects".  These are, in layman's terms, all the departments in your personality that you are f'd up in.  I am tired of being miserable, lonely, a bitch, etc. so, I am taking steps to improve on these faults of mine.  One of the biggest ones for me is honesty.  Even over the pettiest things, I would withold the truth, to protect myself from being hurt.  Or so I thought.  In the end, the white lies would snowball into an avalanche that would leave me crushed under my own guilt and shame, and eventually, drowning in a few other imbibments....

    As I start to be honest, the biggest challenge I am running into is earning that trust back from others that I habitually lied to in the past.  I understand that they are weary, and have every right to be.  However, how many times can I say I've changed, show them I'm changed, and loose a few brain cells from spewing this out ever and over again before they notice that I'm actually honest this time?  Someone I was very close with, though, not as much anymore (it did not end on the BEST of terms), is begining to contact me, reminding me of good times, and saying he misses those days.  I do too.  He is weary of anything I say, however, and I can understand that.  But, I struggle with the fact that, on his end, he was not completly honest with me as well, and I feel his demand of me being 100% honest, and his timidness is almost the pot calling the kettle black.  He is so fearfull of my "deception", yet he was hiding his sexual behaviors/fantasies behind my back at the end of our relationship.  And when called out on it, it created backlash like Egypt last year.  I did similar behaviors, and have made a major overhaul on those, and it has been seen by everyone else around me.  I guess what I'm really stressing about is, if he so desperatly has a hard time trusting me, when is he going to make the leap of faith to do so?  When it comes to trust, that is unfortunatly what have to do.  Trust is faith. I ask him to help me and tell me what he would need for that trust to be earned.  He said he doesn't know.  What I see... And maybe I'm wrong, is someone who doesn't know about their own honesty.  Someone who struggles with the same thing.  And, maybe, just maybe, he isn't honest with himself about he feels about the whole thing.  I know how that is, I lied to myself about what I want in life, who I am.  Especially when I was in that particular relationship.  I say all this because one thing I've learned is when something really bothers you, someone else's charachtor defect, it's because it's something you have yourself.  You spot it, you got it.  It's just easier to see the same flaws you have, and blame the other person first, so you can ignore your issue with it. 

     You also run into catching others not being truthful in your life much easier, now that I am being more forthcoming.  I can read people body language better than Hop on Pop.  One of my newest aquaintances, a roomate, is full of lies.  Full of anxiety, stress, negativity, and just flat out BS.  Nothing is ever good in her life; even a compliment to her is seen as the next Cuban missle crisis.  I eventually moved out of that room into another with my best friend because all the drama, lying, and trying to correct her on it, was just physically and mentally draining.  I see my old self in her, and am disgusted in what I see.  Someone playing the victim, using everything wrong in their life as an excuse to act like Charlie Sheen, and just not seeing the truth of how their life actually is.  Yes, your father is terminally ill, and I'm sorry to hear that.  However, that's not an excuse to go sleep with random guys that you are NOT allowed to be with in hotels while you're supposed to be job hunting to pay your rent.  It's not an excuse to lie about your spazing out on staff and friends over us bringing it to your attention that your closet collapsing due to your ever growing wardrobe (that you supposedly don't have money to pay for, let alone said rent) is NOT the end of the world.  For God's sake, listen to Monty Python, and always look on the bright side of life!  My saying you look cute in those jeans, does NOT mean your shirt looks like shit.  For her, the truth is that her life's issues are not that bad... and no one really cares when you act worse than the Real Housewives of Whatever Bravo Finds Next....  I've been there, done that, and look back and just laugh at the insanity of it all.... God, I was crazy....

     Not everyone is honest, I've accepted that.  and sometimes it is necessary to not say the whole truth to someone who is unstable enough that doing so might result in them hurting themselves of someone else.  I ran into that a little bit last night.  That's a whole other blog on it's own.  But, if there were more honesty around, there would be less drama, less BS, less confusion, and less stress on all parties involved.  Yes, there would be a little more pain and scaring, but when you are truly honest, you can accept that pain.  Be honest with yourself, and chose to learn from it.  Truth is to know that honesty hurts, but can help us grow into such wonderful human beings.  Beings that can be tolerable, even, dare I say it, lovable!  Thanks to my new way of life and truthiness, I know that now. 

And knowing is half the battle....

Coming to Grips with Reality...

It never ceases to amaze me, some people... 

You would think, that going through so much pain, both physically and emotionally would change a person.  For me, it has.  I have become humble, calmer, and more reserved.  Of course, right now, a good bit of that is because physically, I don't have the energy, what fighting this kidney infection/stone, spleen issues, and elevated enzymes.  But for some people, at least 10 years my senior, and who have gone through much less "pain", in both senses, it still isn't enough to change them.  Rather, they seem to have become worse.

I witnessed today someone making a complete ass of themselves in front of the legal system.  After I'm sure much mental preparation and having a Tony award winning speech prepared, he was shot down.  "We are not here for your doubts. They are unnecessary."   Rather than gloat, I just sat there.  In awe of how immature and juvenile this person really was.  And also saw my former self in him.  I was greatly disheartened that the whole experience hasn't humbled him, nor has he seen how it has metamorphosed me.  He has blinders on, no longer rose coloured, seeing himself as the only victim in the world.  Even if he's the perpetrator.  And even before, when I was the actual victim of the crime, he would act as if it was him that was violated, and would take it upon himself to act as he saw appropriate.  I see now that not all of those actions were.  That they really weren't for me to benefit, but to temporarily make himself look better and more interesting. 

The only time in the past I was ever able to get this person to listen was after he had rapidly consumed 2 pitchers or more of beer, and in a public forum.  That was the only time he was ever humble.  And then, in the morning, after the mere buzz wore off, he was back to arguing and putting up the wall he has built so many  times.  I almost invested in buying him Legos to make the process easier.  And the same night that our last big argument occurred, he was online that night, instantly tried to find a shoulder to cry on, and succeeded in finding a transvestite who love their cats, a move that was not unexpected.  The online bashing continued, on various Facebook walls, through my own family members, and directly.  When he violated his own order, and I called the authorities to inform him, the immaturity appeared right in front of them and myself.    And then his friends would chime in, "defending" him, but not really at the same time.  The same friends that I'm sure will read this, and report back.  Hopefully, they'll report back the truth, not another ego stroking debriefing.  A real friend would read a report like this and maybe tell them, "You know, she has a point.  Time to grow up!"  But, if they're on the same level as him, I doubt I will have such a kind and gentle response.  That's one thing I have Faith in...

But even after all this, I do not hate him.  I rarely use that word.  In fact, I still love him.  The person behind the wall.  Not the one holding the trowel and bricks, sucking his thumb and Foster's.  Deep inside, he is a good person.  Wonderful even.  Kind, loving, funny, intelligent, witty, etc.  But once I stood up for what was right (i.e. that receiving sexually explicit photos on his phone from another woman, and thinking that was inappropriate), I saw the other person inside.  The same little boy I heard about that was made fun of in school, "tortured" by his older brother, hurt and unloved by the world.  The same person who relocates every year or so because the same thing seems to happen to them, no matter where they go.  Funny, that used to happen to me too.  But I realized this time around that the only one thing in common with that, was me.  As with him, the same drama seems to ensue after the same amount of time, no matter the location, and the partied involved.  But at least, I'm starting to see this, and am going to work on fixing it, one way or another.  I have yet to see ANY effort in him like that at all, and today just put severe doubts in my mine that I ever will.  Which is sad.  Like he's proclaimed to me, I miss the old him.  The kind, loving him, not the monster he has become.  I looked in the mirror with him, and saw two of me.  What he seems to see, is only himself, but sad and alone.  No matter who is there looking back at him.  I wish I could have shown him I was there, I tried so hard.  But, it's only up to him to open his eyes and see.

My ears are bleeding... But I love your work babe!

We all know love is a crazy emotion.  It makes us do a variety of things from carving our initials into a tree that will in no doubt be cut down in the next 40 years to make room for a new Starbucks, to spending all our rent money on a dinner to the latest and greatest "fad" restaurant that won't pass the next health inspection.  We do these things to impress our potential significant other.  The one where I have been pondering drawing the line is when we say we LOVE something they have done, typically "artistically", even though it is absolute shit. 

I am currently working on finishing my love's book, and helping him e-publish.  It's a novel about a young man who is finding himself, mainly through relationships, and becomes the victim of the common practice of everyone jumping on board with the accuser, rather than listen to the real victim.  I began talking to him about what to do for a cover, and the book itself, and how I was the one person who believed in his work.  It's sad, but true.  But, when he told me about what others thought, I recalled many a friend and boyfriend that wanted me to support them in there endeavors, and how the majority of them were crap.  Don't get me wrong, Will's book is great.  I just had a TV style flashback to those who's ideas weren't so great.

First example:  I studied music and still dabble in my singing (I wish it was more, but getting a classical gig is hard now-a-days).  A lot of my friends took composition, and others just wrote their own songs for guitar (the folk style, not screaming, biting heads of bats kind).  One guy I was hormonally longing for tried his own career at pop/folk music.  He had money from mommy and daddy and started his own "label".  He recorded his songs, and took any gig he could get.  Paid or not.  So, I finally had the time to make it to one of his performances and sat in amazement.  His music was about as invigorating as an hour long ride in an elevator with Kenny G playing on the speaker.  I soon saw why practically everyone left before intermission.  It was not just bad, but Sarah Palin knowing her American history bad.  I'm sure I couldn't hide all the cringe from my face.  But, when he asked me what I thought, I (of course) said it was great!  I didn't want to break his heart.  This was all he really had.  He spent the past several months working his heart out to do this.  But, honestly, it would be enough to turn someone to one-up Van Gogh and go for the left ear too...

Another example:  In high school, poetry was a requirement for a term in English.  One of my friends, Wendy (name changed to save embarrassment),  thought she had found her calling.  She had found her medium, and wrote page after page of poems about a subject she knew rather well.  Herself.  At first, everyone, including myself, thought they weren't bad.  But then, when the poetry section was done and over with and we had moved onto Jane Eyre, she kept writing.  When a new one was complete, she chauvinistically showed her spiral notebook in our faces.  Mainly mine.  I would read them, think to myself how horrible they were, and say "That's great", then some up with some disease I would claim to have and say I have to go to the bathroom.  It's amazing how someone with Navaho Pseudo-Encephalopathy is still alive today. She wrote about everything from her beauty, hair and looks to her sexual escapades with the drug dealer down the street.  All she needed in the end was a shot of testosterone so she could grow a black goatee to match her bongos.

After remembering all this, I asked the obvious: Why do we do this?  These people shouldn't be reproducing, let alone in the art world!  We feel like we're protecting them from the putrid creation they make, but once someone from outside their support system gives them reality goggles, they will come crashing down like the homes too close to the ocean on Nantucket.  We, they're best friends, should just tell them (as gently as possible, depending on the level of shit it is) that it blows like a hooker in Vegas, and not to pursue it ever EVER again.  Try nicely at first, but you are more often then not still full of it.  Just, grow a pair and tell them.  They my cry into their pillow, and cuddle up with their blue blanky that is nothing but a few threads let, but they'll get over it.  If not, oh well.  Let Sony Records or Scholastic break it to them.  And then afterwards, you can send them the bill for the psychiatrist, along with his card.  They'll need it.

Folding Chairs and Douglas Adams ~ A VERY Short Play

Will: So, I'm wondering if you would like me to pick up a couple of folding chairs in a carry pouch.  Home Depot has them on sale for $6.

Me:  What would we use them for?

Will: Sitting

Me: I got that bit. But in reality, when?

Will:  Video games, outside activities, socializing in the living room, etc.

Me:  The living room... I always thought Douglas Adams said to always remember your towel, not a collapsible chair?

Will:  Well, you can't sleep under a collapsible chair while drinking Pangalactic Gargleblasters, but at least you can make sure certain aliens can't see you.

Me: Yes dear...

True Romance... By Halmark

Our relationship has never followed the rules.
We've never been the fairy-tale couple you see in the movies.
It seems like we're either head over heels in love or crazy with frustration. 
We're not perfect, and neither is our relationship.
But you know what?

It's ours. All ours - the little jokes that only we understand (bwargle),
the way our hands naturally find each others,
and the memories that seem so wonderful now that we look back.
Our relationship will never be perfect, but it will always be an important part of me.

I don't know what's in store for us.
But I know I want you in my life.
I know I love you.
And I know that I'd rather be "real" with you than "fairy tale" with anyone else.