Thursday, June 08, 2006


Well, June 7, actually. I just didn't have time to write yesterday.

Three years ago on this day, I awoke in a bed with Awesome. We're guessing that we met sometime after midnight on June 7, since we stayed at a Brooklyn bar chatting until sometime after 4am. Then, after asking me repeatedly to go back to his apartment, I finally agreed (this was during a period when I had just announced to all my friends that I was trying to work on my extreme slut reputation). Thus, we've now had a three-year one-night-stand. In retrospect, I guess my going home with Awesome ironically ended my slut days. Yesterday afternoon this arrived at my front door, compliments of Awesome:

(I told him this bouquet is symbolic, that he unconsciously chose the colors - it's Aryan and Rican toned flowers!)

As I am the least domestic person alive, and my flatmate is the second least domestic person alive, we do not have a vase. So, yes, that is correct - what you see in this photo is that I have used my Brita water pitcher as a vase. Classy, huh? It was either that or I dug through the trash for assorted empty wine bottles.

That morning, three years ago, I ran off to brunch on the Lower East Side with some friends, casually thinking that I'd never see him again. Now I'm glad he was so damn persistent. So. For all you single people who don't want to be single, please go have as many one-night-stands as possible. Oh. all you single people who love being single, please go have as many one-night-stands as possible.

My mom says, "How did you meet Awesome?" And I say, "Grad school."

Oh - and Awesome and I are moving in together in a little over a month. Well, I mean duh. Did you think I was moving back to New York and this wasn't happening? It's been three years. Supposedly three years is the Make It or Break It point. It doesn't feel like three years, at least time-wise. Density and jam-packedness, it feels like more than three years - we've marched all over Europe and the States together, been to family weddings and a funeral, and countless other random personal things that I've never divulged on this website. And now, all of a sudden, we're gonna receive mail at the same address, have joint same-sex insurance, and fear the weekend when both our mothers coincidentally want to visit.

I have to leave for Portsmouth early tomorrow morning, where I'm speaking at yet another conference that lasts all weekend. I've heard that unlike Brighton, Bournemouth and Southampton, Portsmouth is a stanky shit-hole of a town. Um...I'm really excited?

Assumptions are the termites of relationships. - Henry Winkler