7 days out of 28

I thought maybe if I just didn’t say anything he wouldn’t notice what time it was and I could just lie around on the couch and watch Definitely, Maybe and eat chocolate chips. It didn’t work.

And just as he was about to call for the car*, I decided to try to talk him out of it (between fistfuls of chocolate).

“It’s just so hot and I ate too much Indian food and we were away all last weekend and we’ll be gone this weekend and I’ll only know one person there and. . . I’m just so PMS-y. I just want to eat junk food and watch this movie and look at pictures of babies in costumes. I want to google pictures of puppies in baskets.”

So we didn’t go. And he cuddled up on the couch with me.

And yesterday while he was watching baseball with his dad, I looked up baby names on the Social Security website and wedding venues and pictures of the party in the 1954 version of Sabrina.

It is a good thing every week isn’t the blank pill week in the DialPac.


* We got a garage, and it makes even going to Bay Ridge sound like a fancy event.


~beatrix

insight, brought to you by the boys in my life

Sam told me he’d invite my boyfriend to the Google calendar that tracks my phase of the moon. I politely declined on Ted’s behalf.

Now Ted has responded to a gchat message from Sam on my computer and they are talking and even though I said they cannot gang up on me they have.

S: Did she tell you how much cake we ate today?
T: How much? She only told me about some cheese.

T: I’m getting a lecture on the value of whining. Evidently it gets things accomplished. I should practice.
S: Haha. Earlier today she said, “[This intern] is so bossy! I mean, I know I’m bossy, too, but on me it’s a positive quality, on her it’s just annoying!”

~beatrix

consequence

Crying in the shower at 6:10 a.m. did not bode well for the rest of my day.

I warned you, before you bought me dinner, that if it happened again it wouldn’t be your fault.

I held it in for so long. Work was hard, and then I paced around your neighborhood until you got there. Maybe I should have just gone home, but you were all I wanted. It’s unfair sometimes, how the people you care about the most are the same ones who free you to be your worst possible self.

We went to bed early. “Take off your jeans,” you told me, “Lie down.”

I needed instructions. I was exhausted. My face hurt. Hormones were running through my body, and too many thoughts through my head.

“Let it go if you have to,” you gave me permission. You held me.

And, hands over my face, I sobbed for no reason, for twelve million reasons:

Because everyone else seems to know what they’re doing, but I can’t seem to be happy and above the poverty line at the same time. Because I’m going to have to ask my parents for help, again, and because I know they’ll give it to me. Because I want you to like me, and I don’t want you to see me like this. Because I can’t help it.

And maybe I should have never moved here and I shouldn’t have spent so much money I didn’t have going to school and I should at least find an apartment I can afford. And I should get a real job because I’m too smart to be this poor. And I don’t want to disappoint anyone. If I let myself, I could start to regret everything.

“I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry.”
“Hey. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

You remind me. I could have done everything differently, but then maybe I wouldn’t have met you. And maybe that’s inconsequential.

The tears are over, I think. And you hold me against you while my breathing calms down.

But maybe it’s not inconsequential at all.

~beatrix