The worst torture of all.

Saturday was a fantastic day.  The morning was perfect: awesome workout, great cup of coffee, nails done, my shower was the perfect temperature.

The afternoon got better:  I met good friends for lunch and ate delicious food and had some good laughs.  After hanging out with Kris and Scott I made my way to my friend Noelle's house.  I had dinner with her and laughed as her son took his spaghetti in his hands and shoveled it in his mouth like it was his last meal. I laughed even harder at his stained face and PJ's when she told me she had just given him a bath.

It was a rare 75 degree day in March.  Naturally this called for some sort of ice cream treat.  We made Frappes.  OHH.  They were delicious.  I felt so good.

My last act of the day at around 10PM was some orange juice with seltzer--just a splash of OJ.  I sat down and thought about my fabulous day, and Brian came home.  About midnight I said--I feel like I'm going to be sick.

Brian said 'Why'...Why do people ask that. I don't know why I feel like that.  Why isn't really a follow up to I feel like I'm going to be sick--is it?  

Anyways, I didn't think too much of it and fell asleep on the couch.  Brian woke me up around 1AM and we went to bed.  

2:30 AM.  I knew I was in trouble.

Let's just say I saw every piece of my wonderful day in rewind the other night.  All night long.  Along with a full recap of my day in food, all mystery went out the door in our relationship as I wimpered that I needed water, and 'STOP RUBBING MY BACK, YOU'RE MAKING IT WORSE!!'.

As my best friend said, this isn't where the romance dies, it's where true love lives.  That is an awfully poetic picture of our night.

But, it was so true as before work Brian went out to get my gatorade and popsicles so I wouldn't end up in the ER like numerous friends of mine who got the same nasty bug.  

Here is my problem.  Popsicle wrappers.  I just wanted (and got) regular variety pack style popsicles. 

Why aren't they labeled on the outside of the wrapper?  Or better yet-why don't they come in CLEAR wrappers.  Seriously, the popsicles that are packaged as one flavor all have clear plastic wrap.  THOSE popsicles don't need clear wrap--you know what you are getting, you got the box of Edy's Whole Fruit Coconut flavored frozen fruit bars.  THOSE popsicles can have the white wrappers.

When I am sick and can only survive off popsicles, I am just saying WHY do you have to make me guess what's inside?  Why?  There are only two kinds of people that are getting these popsicles:  Kids, and sick people.  

If you bought these for your kids, you know you have opened like 5 that you thought were grape because of the dark shade that you can kinda see through the white wrapping only to find out it's root bear and your 5 year old hates root beer.  So, now you have a box of 5 root bear popsicles with freezer burn because you saved them because, you know, it's wrong to throw away food.

If you bought them because you are sick.  Well, it's just plain torture.  I hate the same popsicles I did as a kid, and now I am going to have those root beer flavored pops in my fridge with a iceberg beard because it is wrong to throw food away...and I will forget about them.

I just want popsicle makers to know 'hold the popsicle up to the light in the wrapper and guess the flavor' when you've been tossing your cookies all night is not a fun game. Ever.

Clear wrappers.  Think on it. Thanks for listening.

During the feminist movement was in 'Erin Go Bragh-less' on St Paddy's day?

I vividly remember one St. Patrick's day that my parents should have intervened on my fashion choice.  I was in 5th grade and I put together one fantastic outfit.  Picture this--if you will.  I was about 4'8 and scrawny as could be.

My mom's 'Kelly green' ribbed v-neck sweater
1 white turtle neck
A different green shaded pair of footless tights with the lace on the bottom
Over those?  A pair of stretch pants that I CUT into SHORTS
Black boots.

I accessorized this with not only shamrock earrings and a 'kiss me I'm Irish' pin, but also somehow I got my hands on a green St. Patrick's themed garter.  Yes.  Garter, that I wore in my hair in a high side pony tail as a SCRUNCHY.
With my electric blue glasses and multi colored braces.
It doesn't get much hotter than that folks.  I'm guessing I got my sense of style from my Great Grandmother--at least her 'greens' matched!

How you can tell we don't have kids...

This (of course) is something that falls into the category of 'TMI', so don't say once again that I didn't warn you.  *You have been Warned*

So, tonight when I got home from work we went for a run at the park near our house, came home and I hopped in the shower while Brian started dinner.
I had just gotten dressed and settled when I heard a knock at the door--I look through the peep hole (I love the peep hole..everyone looks so funny!) and it was our downstairs neighbor.
Of course she comes into our house for the first time when it looks like a bomb has gone off, and I have wet shower head.  Why wouldn't she?  So, I apologize for the nightmare we are living in, and imagine her neat kitchen table and everything put away in her home.  Sigh.
Anyways, she had a leak in her ceiling and was coming to see if we had water come in somehow to cause this problem.  We had no explanation for her so we got to chatting.  About our neighbors, her job etc.
She mentioned she was very 'detail oriented'.
'While some people see the big picture, I can only see the small details--if your car is here, if it moved, what is placed where--things like that, I really notice everything'.
After she left is when I noticed our bottle of 'Astroglide' on one of our living room tables in plain site.  Right next to a picture of us, a candle, and some birthday cards.  The table that you immediately look at when you walk in.
We clearly weren't expecting company that didn't focus on the 'big picture'.  File this under 'more awkward moments'.

Someday when we have a house...

*I won't have to wake up to my neighbor vacuuming on Saturday morning at 7am

*I won't have to jockey for position in line at the 1 washer and dryer our half of the building shares

*I also won't have to touch the other tenants clothes when they leave them in the washer or dryer for hours

*I also won't have to run into my other neighbor who shaves his face in the laundry room, and often does his laundry in his boxer shorts

*I won't get hostile when someone steals our parking space because they are too lazy to fine a guest spot

*I won't have to smell the brazilian cooking permeating through the building (good or bad)

* I won't have to listen to my neighbor's 3 year old at 11pm still playing with his toy drum set.

* I won't have to 'baby-sit' the little girl in the neighborhood who is too friendly with strangers and who looks in peoples windows when she has no one to play with and want to call DSS on a daily basis because her parents are too lazy to watch her themselves.

*I won't have to drive over 8,000 speed bumps everyday

*I won't have a shower that decides every 5 seconds to severely change the temp to something it must think I will enjoy

*I won't be able to hear my Chinese neighbor singing Christmas carols at 6am every morning

*I will be able to wear my heels at any time of day or night and not be afraid to wake up my neighbor

On the flip side... I won't have all the free entertainment right outside my window!

He's just not that into you..or he's just not that into women!

I'm going to stop saying in posts what I am going to be posting about for a week--I was going to post all this stuff that shaped me to thirty...but...now that thirty is tomorrow, well I don't want to talk about it OK??!

Due to the reaction to my last 2 part series (reactions that were mainly to my face and not posted on my blog...ahem...) I have been encouraged by my good friend Jen --who often likes to laugh at my expense, to continue blogging about my penchant for dating gay men.  **It is important to note, that I no longer date gay men--Brian wanted to make sure this disclaimer was made**.

Some thought my last blog topic may not be real.  Let me and about 50 other witnesses to the 'relationship' tell you, OH it happened.  It is also important to note a couple of other things:

My first kiss.  He is now gay.  There were numerous other crushes on gay men.  I'm sure Freud would say I was attracted to the gays so I could avoid real feelings and relationships or something...or that my parents didn't hug me enough.  **Mom, Dad..I'm kidding, you did PLENTY of hugging.  Just the right amount*.

When I went to orientation for college I sat in a session with a really hot guy.  He had really blue eyes, he was dressed so cute, and had this blond curly hair.  He was super tan and looked like a life guard.  He sat next to me and kept smiling.  Oh, my gosh.  He thinks I'm cute too.  It was a two day orientation and by the end my friend Scott was out of the closet.  Darn it!  But, he is one of my best gays.  I should have listened to him more because clearly I got in the short line for 'gay-dar' and in the long line for 'blissful ignorance'.
School started and I quickly became friends with girls on the 3rd floor of one of the dorms.  I lived off campus, so I would always stay with my new friends in their room.  Their RA caught my eye.  Looking back, I don't know why.  He was a nice enough guy, but good grief.  He spent more time in the mirror than I did, was worried about his skin care routine, ironed his boxers, and his wrist joint had been permanently removed.
EVERYONE told me he was gay.  I am always up for a challenge and, after all--he totally said he wasn't.
Because he was an RA he had a private room and a big king size bed.  Which really just meant two of the twin beds got pushed together.  I would hang out in his room and watch him organize his closet.
Should I organize it by prints or colors?  Hang or fold my denim and khakis?
I don't know?? Can't we make out???
Some nights he was super nice and would let me stay in his room..which meant sleeping in his bed.  I would lay awake all  night waiting for something to happen...a foot to touch mine..really anything.

Then I would go talk to Jen, Deb and Kris and we would analyze why nothing happened.  They were mostly kind about it 'Al, maybe he's just really polite'...and when I would leave they would say 'UM HE IS GAY!'

One night, my friend Cait and I were so excited.  Another RA who she had a crush on asked her on a date--and the best part was..it was a DOUBLE date with me and my RA.
No one could believe it--we were going out with them..maybe..just maybe they weren't!
About 20 minutes into the meal Cait and I realized these two RA's were actually on a date with EACH OTHER and we were there for show.  Yeah.  That was awkward.

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road..

So, Boston...skipping down cobblestone streets.  We headed off on date night into a couple of bars just chatting and drinking.  Somewhere along our path, something started to seem...off.  I couldn't put my finger on it.
We ended up stopping at his apartment for a bit where we ran into Michael.  He was clearly annoyed at our existence and after they exchanged some cold words we headed out to a bar about half a block down the street.  This is when Douglas really started to drink. And stop talking.  It was the kind of drinking someone does that is almost embarrassing to watch and make eye contact with the waitress.  Especially since I wasn't even close to catching up.  I had class in the morning 45 minutes away, and had to drive home..because..well, we were still only just kissing in the streets.
As I watch him pound his 4th or 5th Guiness, I really start asking what is wrong.
'OK, I know you and Michael kinda got into it..are you OK'
'I'm fine.  It's fine.'
'Well..umm.  You're really puttin' em back.  You don't really look like you're OK...you can talk to me you know'
'No.  I can't talk to you about this'
'about what?'
'you wouldn't understand'
'try me, I'm pretty understanding..whatever it is couldn't be that bad'
silence.
'truly! You can tell me anything--I'm not going to judge, I'm here to listen'  I was his girlfriend for crying out loud...NO LABELS!
silence.
OK.  Now I was getting worried.  And I told him so.  As I started to make more headway on my own beer and stare off into space as he held his head in his hands and stared at the table, my mind started spinning.
'Look', he said 'I have something I have to tell you.  I've been making myself believe that you didn't have to know, that it didn't matter.  I don't want to tell you.  I can't tell you'
'You can tell me anything, I told you that.'
'Not this, when I tell you, you will never look at me the same again.  You aren't even going to want to be near me'
I couldn't believe it.  I had finally found someone who made me happier than anyone ever had and he had a deep dark secret.  Of course he did.  I started preparing myself for the worst.  This night wasn't going to end well, and I knew it.  I wasn't ready for my fairy tale to end. What could I put up with for deep dark secrets?  What would make him think that I would judge him??  Now that I am typing this..I am realizing..this is JUST like Twilight.  Douglas was my own Edward.
Yeah.  He wasn't a freakin' vampire, that's for sure.
Anyways, what could be so bad?  Oh my GOD.  Oh. My GOD.  This is when I started talking to God.  It was a God drunk dial.  I don't think he appreciated it. I'm sure like the rest of us he prefers his phone calls to be sober, mostly because I assume God is sober all the time.  I'm pretty sure God's not drunk.  Maybe on Sunday God has mimosa's?   He has an awful lot of people talking to him then.  I would need a mimosa.
Sorry.  So, I start bargaining with God.  Please God.  Don't let this end.  What is it?  What did I do to be so unlucky in love??  What is he going to tell me???  What do people judge..hmm..
Maybe he had a kid with his ex girlfriend that he hadn't told me about...maybe they had the baby young and gave her up for adoption..or maybe they didn't keep the baby?  Maybe.
No.  That isn't it.   He is dying.  I know he is dying.  God, you let me find love and he is DYING.  He has some awful un-curable disease...OH. MY. GOD.  THAT is why he hasn't put a hand on me.  He doesn't want me to possibly get sick too.  He's so pale right now, and thin.  I can't believe he is going to die.  I love him.  That's it.  I love him, and even if he is dying I don't care.  I made my mind up.
Douglas was dying and I was going to love him.  Suddenly, I was very sober.
'Let's get out of here'
Douglas nodded and pounded the last of his beer, while I took his debit card and paid our tab.
'Listen, you have to tell me what is going on.  You have to trust that I am going to listen to you, and not judge you.'
We walked to his stoop and sat for what seemed like hours.
'Alison.  What I have to tell you is going to make you get up and walk away from me forever.  I want you to know that I never ever wanted to hurt you, and now I know that I am about to--and I want you to know how much I feel for you before I tell you what I am about to tell you..because, after--I'm not going to have the chance to tell you'
My heart was now doing a tap dance. I almost couldn't breathe.  I just wanted one more day without knowing he was going to die.  I started to cry.
'Alison, the reason why Michael is so upset...is because, he is in love with me.  I had been really confused, and I thought I had feelings for him too.  No one ever knew, but we slept together.  I didn't want to, but he made me, but you have to understand, I love  you.  I want to be with YOU.  You made me realize I am not gay-and I know you can't be with me anymore, but I couldn't keep that from you.  I am so sorry, about everything--but, just know that these past 2 months have been the most amazing months of my life.  I didn't know I could be so happy with a woman, and you made me feel something inside that I didn't know was possible.'

Um.  What?  This is where it gets good.  I bet you think you know what I did right? Of course I either:
A.  Ran off down the street and never looked back
B.  Told him, I was sorry but, he was right I couldn't be with him, and ended the relationship.

I mean--the signs were all now REALLY clear.  He and Michael shared a room.  This was not all that strange in college...but, what was really strange was that although he had an air mattress on the floor...his special pillow was always in Michael's bed.  This to anyone else would be a red flag.  Everyone told me they thought there was something weird with him and Michael..for most-this too would be a red flag.
Not for Alison.

'Douglas..is that it?'
'What do you mean?'
'Is that IT?  Is that the whole secret?'
'uh..yeah'
'It's fine.'
'What??'
'It's fine.  Have you been with Michael since you've been with me?'
'No, never!  You made me realize I'm not gay!'
'Do you love Michael?'
'No!'
'Do you want to be with ME?'
'Yes...but, I know we can't'
'but, we can...it's fine.  Who am I to judge?  You were confused, but I love you and I don't care about your past--I can get past this with you.  I love you.'
'Alison..Michael and I fucked.  We fucked a lot'  Wow. That's a mouth-full. Let me tell you when you're boyfriend is telling you he fucked his roomate Michael.  Not just telling you he slept with him but basically telling you 'HELLO YOU ARE AN IDIOT, RUN FOR THE HILLS' take the cue!!  Run for the hills.  Yeah.  He really said that to me.  Like to really drill the reality in my head of the carnal acts they shared.  I think I shuddered and tried to get the image out of my head, it's not really a dream moment when you find out that your boyfriends past lover is named Michael.
And what did I do?  I told not one single soul.  I was almost a martyr.  We were happy for a whole month after that--things were great.  Do you know how HARD it is for me not to tell my girlfriends something??  Yeah.  They weren't really going to understand this one.
Douglas was like a bird set free.  He was so happy---it was almost as if he now floated.  And, I was kind of awesome because clearly--I could get past anything.
Until the day that Douglas bailed on plans for us.  Michael also didn't show up to class that day.  Odd.
The next night he visited me at school while Michael was in rehearsal..but, he wasn't himself.  He didn't hold my hand.  We barely spoke.
Later on we met up with friends at Beerworks and shared dinner.  The night before Michael had told the director (who we were out with) that he was sick.
She asked if he was feeling any better.  I looked up at Michael.  Michael with a smirk looked at Douglas.  Douglas looked into his beer.
A couple weeks later after multiple non returned phone calls we met up and he told me he had some stuff to work out.
Yeah.  I let him work that out on his own.