Sea of Love

Okay so maybe not love, but like, at the very least. Anyway, I think it's safe to say that I dove. I think I might be the Big Bad Wolf's girlfriend or something. I met two of his best friend's over the New Year's weekend and both of them at some point called me his girlfriend. He didn't correct them so I guess I am. I haven't had a real boyfriend in a really, really long time.

Tommy Lee certainly wasn't a real boyfriend. Who knows what the fuck he was. Mr. 40+ wasn't a real boyfriend because, when it came right down to it, I just didn't feel that way about him. The Young Republican, well he dumped me for being a Democrat before we really got that far. That was pretty much the case with the Cowboy too.

God, I'm not sure I really know how to be someone's girlfriend. In fact I think I might suck at it. I'm still scared to death that I might very well regret this whole involvement with the Big Bad Wolf, but it's pretty much too late for that now. I'm part of a couple. I don't know how I feel about that.

On the one hand I love Sunday mornings when we sleep in at his house. He makes coffee and gets the paper, which we both sit at the table and read. He reads the sports section and the front page and I read the local section and the comics. Sometimes he makes me breakfast and sometimes we throw on clothes and head to a diner for eggs and bacon. We usually round out the day with a trip to the bookstore or watching a movie and napping on the couch. That is the couple-dom that I like. Actually this the part of being with him that I love.

The part I hate is the anticipation of waiting for the other shoe to drop. For some reason I have it in my head that the shit will hit the fan at some point or another. Why can't I just enjoy things the way they are instead of waiting for the total nuclear annihilation? And I know part of it has to do with his past, but a lot of it has to do with mine too. I've had so many guys just completely flake out on me that I've just come to expect it. When the hell did I become so cynical? Me, the girl who cries at the end of every sad, sappy romantic comedy? Or perhaps it's because I never get what I really want.