I Hate My Job. Could Someone Please Kill It?

Things with Boy Blue are still sailing along smoothly. I just looked back at my calendar and realized it's only been two months and change since the boy and I first laid eyes on one another. Considering it feels like ages since then, I'm having trouble believing in reality at the moment.

Anyhoo, contrary to what the general assumption might be (for anyone out there who might be interested in making such assumptions), he isn't the one who's been sucking up all my time and making me neglect my writer-ly duties.

Nope, no, not at all.

The blame for that lies squarely on the shoulders of my heinous job, my heinous upper-level superiors, and the heinous (and impossible) project that's had me in tears, on (prescription!) drugs, and generally on the verge of a nervous breakdown for the past several weeks.

More (exciting things, I hope!) to come after I draw a fat black X over October 3rd on my calendar.

Wish me luck...

Just Right

Boy Blue & Belle sittin' in a tree.... K-I-S-S-I-N-G...



After The Butler, there were a few more dates with some guys (a balding virgin, a 34-year-old with serious PDA issues, etc.), but none of them were really doing it for me.

I planned (and executed) a freakin' awesome* date for Boy Blue and myself, and by the end of it, we'd established ground rules, made a commitment.

After some initial freaking out on my part of the (almost) vomit-inducing variety (Why did I commit so soon? Why didn't I stick to The Plan? What would Cindy Lu say? Why did I let him win? Why can't I say the B-word without getting a tiny bit nauseous?), I've calmed down and really started enjoying this whole relationship thing. (Like, really, really enjoying it.)

Boy Blue took me to Chicago for Labor Day, and we had an absolutely, unbelievably amazing time together. I didn't get sick of him once, and he says the same is true for him. Four days of continuous interaction can make me dislike pretty much anyone on some level, so I took it as an excellent sign that we got along so smashingly.

And, so far, it looks like we have a real, grown-up relationship epitomized by open communication and honesty.

He actually wants to know what's going through my head at any given moment. Wants to hear about my experiences, my expectations, my desires. And to share his with me. Wants to discuss my doubts and fears. Wants to reassure me when I'm freaking out.

And he wants to do stuff with me. Make me part of his life and become part of mine. (The boy's already got pictures of us framed at his place, for crying out loud.)

When I step back and look at everything next to a damned calendar, it all seems to be moving a little fast.

But... fuck it. Who the hell gets to decide what's too fast? Looking at it all outside the construct of time, everything seems just right.


* Yeah, it was totally freakin' awesome. Just trust.