fair

three things:

1. motorcycle ride sans goggles. meaning air hurling at me. hurts my face. not the face! anything but the face! eyes watering, nose running, hair whipping fun. perfect night for a ride.

i need goggles. or a helmet. or both.

2. after describing, in detail, all the delicious fair food we had before us: fried green tomatoes, corn dogs, funnel cake, pork chop on a stick, hush puppies, sweet martha's cookies, the bf thinks for a moment. we walk a bit further. he stops and points, "baby, they have crepes!"

crepes?! wait, did someone just ask what kind of food might not belong at a fair? hilarious.

3. we bought tickets to play a game. the bf wanted to see me knock over four heavy bottles with a softball. i got two down. the bf's turn. how many did he get? zero. there goes my big, strong man theory.

to his credit, the bf has quite an arm, and had he not missed the pyramid by a foot, all four bottles would have been down. hell yeah. i stand by my man.

we watched the fireworks. he liked the fried green tomatoes. and as we walked hand-in-butt-pocket down the barn to the fair's biggest pig, corn dog, i thought, does it get any better than this?

mn state fair

tonight, the bf and i will tackle the great minnesota get together.

if you saw me, or knew me, you wouldn't think that i'm a state fair girl.

and you'd probably be right, except that i heart:
* corn dogs
* "what not to wear"
* bright lights
* hush puppies
* mini-donuts
* suburb hoochies
* the biggest pig
* fried green tomatoes

i hate crowds. but i love games, people, and excitement. wouldn't it be fun if the bf won a prize for me playing some 'big, strong man' game? how perfectly cliche and datey! wouldn't it be better if i won a prize for him?

i just want some fair food. and to see this year's biggest pig. in that order. i can only stay in the barn for a couple of minutes, for i have a weak city girl stomach. the only prerequisites for tonight are low expectations for the scene and high expectations for a tummy bloat. oh, and i am prepared to see the usual cornucopia of fanny packs, mullets, and "omg! did you see that?"s.

the minnesota state fair is something you have to go to once to say you went, and then you've had your fill for another year. thankfully. tonight is that night for me. hope yours is as filled with boobage as mine will be.

mcbirthday

dear exbf,

happy 35th birthday. today you have elevated your status from single to single for a reason. congratulations!

you are a wonderful person, and you taught me that even bad girls can make it with nice boys once in a while. you proved to me that i deserve to have a great boyfriend and be treated well. you showed me that chivalry is not dead and you made me breakfast from scratch. you started my car on cold mornings and brushed the snow off. you took me camping for the first time and you introduced me to brats at the farmer's market.

and the greatest lesson i learned is that you are not the one for me. i don't mean that unkindly, for i know now what is best for me differs from what is best for you. i wanted to love you in the way that i have always wanted to love someone, and i resisted both reality and my nagging heart. because i fell for the good guy you are, the good things in you, and the good that you always gave me.

and now, when i see how far i've come, i realize that i needed you to fill that role in my life. you let me loosen my hold on the cycle of unhappiness that i learned to expect from relationships. you pulled me up and tried to shake me free, and when i wanted to fly, you let me go. i want to thank you, always, for being you. happy 3-5.

xoxo,
sophie

oh, snap!

"don't get no man ready for nobody else" -bb

so true, so true.

my top ten relationship dealbreakers, including, but not limited to:
1. he is 35+ years old. if he doesn't want to get married and you do, why are you with him? and if he hasn't found the "right" girl by then? forget about it. there is a reason girls, there is a reason.*
2. he calls his mom more than once a day. or he cannot make a decision without consulting her. mama's boys are never, ever good.**
3. he is rude to waiters, doormen, bouncers, cleaners, cabbies, or your mom. strike that. if he is rude, period.***
4. he still hangs out with his exes (a la for birthdays, etc.) - there is no reason for that. when you're done with a relationship, be done. let it go.
5. he thinks potty humor is funny. really?!
6. if you can't see yourself married to him after one year, you will never see yourself married to him.****
7. is something missing? it will always be missing. stop looking for it, stop hoping for it, you will never find it with him.*****
8. if you fight about the same thing over and over.
9. you bring out the worst in each other.
10. he chooses _______ [insert activity of choice here] over you.******

ugh. boys are dumb, aren't they?

*don't try to sway me on this one. i stand by it.
**i might amend this to once a day being too much.
***also, if he has no manners. boot him.
****especially if you are over the age of 28.
*****never settle. what you expect is the least of what you deserve.
******my personal favorite: choosing home depot over me.

33%

how well do we know each other?

the bf and i played a sort-of newlydate game, where we try to match up our answers of our partner's preferences to what they would actually put down. out of 30 questions, we matched only 10, and some of those were just gimmes.

my favorites:
1. celebrity crush: beyonce
the bf: "that girl in that one movie we watched"
4. enemy: pigs aka cops
the bf: "ignorance"
5. favorite way to have potatoes: fries
the bf: "baked with s&p, olive oil, thyme, & oregano"
7. favorite body part: butt, on others; chicken legs, on him
the bf: "cerebral cortex"
9. lucky number: 9
the bf: "phi"

who answers cerebral cortex when you ask them what their favorite body part is? furthermore, whose favorite number is phi, a number i didn't even know existed? what's wrong with the number 9? that girl in that one movie we watched? how could i make this stuff up? how could i have been so wrong?

it hurts me to think that we would lose at this game because the bf is an overthinker. or that maybe we don't know each other like we think we do. hey, i know most of the important things about him. like his penchant for black boxers, and that he can tile a shower, and that he shaves on sundays. so it took me a year of pretending to know his last name and trying to figure it out via his voicemail message to actually learn it. it's all moot.

late night

last night the bf and i wanted to be low-key.

we ordered paradise pizza delivery. we watched episodes of reno 911.

the bf turned to me and said, 'babe, let's go to bed.'

he likes to give me a headstart "because you take longer than i do." except replace that with "because i want to watch gorillamask softcore without you."

regardless, i was brushing my teeth and wondered what time it was.

i called out, 'babe? what time is it? it feels early, doesn't it?'

the bf responded vaguely, 'i don't know, why?'

i checked the clock.

it was 9:20pm.

the bf kept saying, 'i almost had you babe, i almost had you!'

and so, because we are neither married nor old, i made the bf stay up for another round of reno 911 before bed.

now

it has been two nights, and almost three days, since we've had sex.

not that i'm keeping track.

oh, who am i kidding. sometimes i get so worked up that i cannot sit still at work. i think about it, i daydream, i imagine. i send the bf text messages of what i want to do with him.

and it's not at all even close to the real thing.

my libido is amazing. i crave it right after we do it. and it seems like it's never enough. they say a woman's sex drive peaks at 35? i don't know what i will do with myself when i get there; probably hump in my sleep. as it is now, i'm always waiting for my next opportunity. then i pounce.

the bf has houseguests. do you have any idea what it's like to see the bf and not be able to do it? what does a girl have to do around here to get laid, anyway? i want to be on him.

it is a running joke with the bf that one of us cannot keep up with the other. however, i submit evidence in the form of exhibit a and exhibit b that really, i am the sexual powerhouse in our relationship. you heard me! a force.

note: i gave the bf a sneak peek of this post last night. he moaned, 'soph, don't start...' what? what did i do? blink blink. i wonder if making a guy feel inadequate* in the bedroom is as powerful an aphrodisiac as i think it is.

*disclaimer: not inadequate, in that sense, just missing for the past couple of days. most days, the bf keeps up with me, and that's saying a lot. can you tell how hard i'm trying to dig myself out for fear that i have dashed any chance of making whoopee tonight?! a couple more hours and i'll consider myself a virgin again. oh shit, i'm sure that didn't help.

yo mama

10 things i have learned from my mother:

1. it is never, ever, wrong to love a purse
2. matching shoes will make an outfit
3. marry someone who loves me ever-so-slightly more
4. it is never too early to start using anti-wrinkle cream
5. food you buy on the street is dirty
6. if i learn how to cook, someone will marry me
7. always, always, always say thank you
8. how to smile and open my eyes up for photos
9. to laugh at myself and charm the pants off everyone else
10. that i can do anything i want, unless she doesn't approve of it

my mother and i are very much alike. and we hate it. but as the years go on we tire of fighting it.

she is lovely, charming, graceful, and silly. she laughs effortlessly, but is quick to pout. she is a firecracker, a loose cannon, a mountain to move. she is stubborn, she is kind, and she is adorable.

my mother and i fight a lot. when i was in high school, we would go for days without speaking to each other. we still go at it every once in a while, but we wouldn't be us if we didn't. my family jokes when my mother and i go on shopping trips that only one of us will come back.

i love my mother, and i tell her all the time. just in different ways, like when i answer with, "what do you want?" when she calls. or when i tell her i love my dad more.

choose me

i gave the bf a choice.

1. take a half day off work to drive 3.5 hours to madison with me
2. leave work an hour early to fly to madison without me

ordinarily, i would assume that the bf would leap at the chance to fly. we have driven many miles together, and for many miles he has bemoaned my lack of flying benefits.

so when the bf responded with: i want to ride with you to madison, and i don't want to inconvenience you, please excuse my surprise when i wrote back with: gasp! who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?

he has been off lately. i feel like he has quite a bit on his mind that he isn't sharing with me. (dog, my ass) we are each others' holiday; when i am around him the last thing i want to do is unleash unhappiness. in that way we protect our togetherness, our happy bubble, our us-against-the-world front. we are both too sensitive to our happiness to pop it. and yet, it is being there through the rough that will test our lasting. still, the thing that remains consistent is that we love being around each other. i've said it before and i'll say it again: i just want to be with him.

afternoon delight

the bf insists that he's a dog in relationships.

open, playful, drool-y.

and yet.

we both worked late last night. we met at ikea. perhaps not such a good idea because:
a. we were hungry
b. we were tired
c. we don't like crowds and/or screaming babies

he was being unusually quiet. i couldn't make him laugh.

the evening went a lot like this:
me: what's wrong?
the bf: nothing, i'm just tired.
me: are you grumpy?
the bf: no, i'm just tired.
1.....2.......3.........
me: what's wrong?

we had dinner at fuddruckers, then went to his house. watched an episode of reno 911.

i usually spend the night, but last night he said he was really tired so maybe i should go home.

okay.

he walked me to my car. he told me to call him when i got home.

okay.

i was home, on the phone, when he called. i didn't switch over. he called again.

the bf: did you forget to call me?
me: no, i've been talking to e
the bf: well, i'm in my basement, and i think i was robbed.
me: what?! why?
the bf: all my pillows were stolen.
me: [utterly baffled silence]
the bf: and since you have new pillows, i was wondering if i could come over.

so the bf stayed over. uncomfortable sleep was had by all. why? because he thought i was sad. so instead of asking me if i was, indeed, sad, he drove his tired butt to my house to sleep in my stuffy room with a double bed. is this what love is all about? doing crazy things in the name of someone else? well then, bring it on. i'm already there, baby.

my special purpose

in college, english 101, i was introduced to thesis writing.

that is, writing with a purpose.

we would be assigned a topic, a book to analyze, etc.

then we would break into small groups to have our writing reviewed by peers.

every single time, great comments on my writing except for one thing:

"i don't know what your thesis statement is."

and today, as i stare at the monitor at my project brief, all i can think is:

purpose: to create a communications toolkit

assignment: to create a communications toolkit

i don't even know what the difference is. what is wrong with me? i'm 25* years old and i can't figure it out? it's as simple as purpose: why are we here and assignment: what are we doing and i still cannot do it. lord have mercy. is there an oncoming full moon? are the planets out of alignment? can i blame the stars on my lack of purpose (and assignment)?

it's as if everytime someone asked me how i was doing i gave them a full rundown of my day instead of answering. i know, right? how do people handle me? how do i have friends? the bf and i don't talk much so i know why he's still around (read: best sex he's ever had), but what about the rest of you? you have no excuse!

oh boy. here i go again. failing at the english 101 of life.

*i dare you to correct me. not today. let me have that today.

surprise!

when i see a lavender bachmans van i think (read: hope) that someone is surprising me with flowers.

i love flowers. i love giving flowers. so pretty.

i asked the bf if he likes surprises last night. a seemingly simple question that only requires a simple answer.

but we forget we are talking to the bf.

he rattled on and on about how he likes surprises, but he doesn't enjoying being surprised with, say, a person in his house when he is not expecting anyone. he likes surprises when they are like, "surprise! i'm naked! let's do it!" who likes bad surprises? why would i ask anyone if they would enjoy being surprised by, i don't know, a karate chop to the balls? i wouldn't wonder about that.

the nice thing about the bf is that no question is a stupid question [other than: do you care about me? he seems to hate that one: "soph, there is no other answer than yes."] and he seriously responds to all my ridiculous musings.

you ask a person if they like surprises, and sometimes you'll hear "yes! i love surprises!" or "no, i don't really like surprises." but the bf? he wants to first define the difference between a good surprise and a bad surprise before he responds. complicated? yes. surprised? not at all.

hey! i like surprises.

the dream

last night i dreamt that the bf proposed.

we were at the mall of america. there were people dining "outside" a la tucci benucch. he pulled out a brown plastic bag with 'jb hudson' on it. my eyes grew wide. he pulled out a brown box. i remember thinking that it was no blue box with a white ribbon. i yelled 'no!' and kept yelling 'no!' as he chased me around the mall, to the delight of the diners. finally he caught up with me and i said, 'don't you need to ask me first? i don't even think i said yes!' he started crying. i started crying. he got down on one knee. i looked at the ring, a rectangle-shaped, cushion-cut rock, and we kissed.

the funny thing is that he didn't actually ask. i didn't actually say yes.

he wrote me an email this morning defending the pillow. "are you simply not used to anyone thinking about your interests? i just wanted to make my baby comfortable. whatever."

he's right. what girl would want this:



when she could have this:



the choice is clear. i do, however, adore the gesture of the pillow. to the bf, thank you very much.

flat pillow

the bf bought me a new pillow.

i have spent many nights with the bf this summer. he has the house to himself so i am free to run around in little boxsies.

last sunday he presented me with a new pillow, still in the bag.

"babe, i got you a new pillow."

i laughed, then saw he was serious.

"why?"
"i noticed your other pillow was getting flat so i bought you a new one."
"really?"
"yeah, i don't know if you prefer your pillows flat or not."
"you bought me a pillow?"
"why is that so hard to believe?"
"you really bought it for yourself, but i'm going to use it, right?"
"well, you stay here so i bought you a new pillow!"
"you bought a pillow for me?"
"yes!"
"why?"

i still cannot figure out if its the sweetest present ever or the weirdest present ever. stay tuned.

true story

last week, i went to target.

so what, you say? i'll tell you so what.

on wednesday, i emailed the bf and asked if he needed anything from target.

the bf responded to all comments except for that one.

i emailed the bf back and said if he needed anything from target that he should let me know.

the bf responded to all comments except for that one.

at that point [read: i am not an idiot], i assumed he did not need anything from target.

still, i called him after work and told him that i would be stopping by target and to call me should he need anything.

the bf did not call back.

ironically, after all the hype, i did not end up going to target that evening.

on saturday, i called the bf to tell him that i was going to target, and asked if he needed anything.

the bf paused and said no, he did not.

i actually went to target and purchased a box of rice chex that-he-did-not-ask-for-but-i-ate-the-last-of for him.

on sunday, when i was having tea with the girls, the bf called me.

and what does he say?

"do you need anything from target?"

highlights

the verdict: reunions can be fun!*

guess what?
* bh totally hit on me
* i told sg i had the biggest crush on him in high school
* my high school bf told me that i look as beautiful as ever
* ps asked if he could take my picture
* tk had her heart surgery and is doing fine
* mt ignored me after one hug, convinced she is still competing with me and just wanted to check me out. i hope i'm winning whatever ghost battle she has me in.

it's weird when you see people you went to high school with. we all look a bit, well, bigger.

the bf and i sat with people i had almost zero contact with in high school, and one girl i didn't remember. i felt like rachel from the friends episode when the girl from high school called her a bitch.

we mingled a little bit; it was so weird to see everyone. surreal. dinner was definitely not worth $80/couple, and i had to borrow $10 from the bf to get a glass of rank cabernet sauvignon. good thing i was adamant about, what's the word, downing a glass and a half of chardonnay (ick) before the reunion.

after many hugs and "sophie! what are you doing now?"s, we were ready to go. i'm glad i went -- i'm pretty sure i won't be attending my 20th, but i'm glad i went to this one. i owe the bf. big.

*as long as you are under no illusions as to all the "friends" you will have after the event.

wish me luck

the reunion is tonight.

equal parts excited and nervous.

who knows? i could have a ball of a time and connect with old friends.

or i could remember why we lost touch in the first place.

p and i share the knowledge that friendship, like most relationships, take work.

i heart my girlfriends. pulling me up in times of need, pulling me back in times of flight.

i am hardly flakey. when i say 'let's do tea and sorbet' i mean it. you can have ice cream. i will call you back.

you know how some people have girl crushes? i totally do.

1. erin schwab (at jitters every friday night: she will knock your socks off)
2. jessica simpson (i don't care what you say about her post-lachey days, she is still killer)
3. kate (i don't even know her but she knows who she is: IHIRB)
4. alicia keys (that voice - i would have sex with that voice)
5. heather and jessica (the gofugyourself girls: because they are bitchy and don't give a shit)

girlfriends are fabulous! and so satisfying. like hazelnut chocolate truffle cake.

parking

driving downtown is a nightmare.

1. i'd like to think that it's because i just started a new job, but the truth is i lose my car in parking ramps a lot. this includes, but is not limited to: a) walking in the wrong direction of the ramp, b) walking into the wrong parking ramp, c) talking to someone and forgetting where i am, and/or d) not remembering which level i am parked on.
2. the police "control" traffic flow out of ramps in the evening rush hour. i almost hit one because i didn't see him. he was mad. he was more mad because i was on the phone at the time.
3. people never know where they are going downtown. traffic is always slow, meaning it can take you 20 minutes to get through downtown.
4. the one-ways are confusing. and lord help you if you need to change lanes due to an illegally parked truck in your lane or cross multiple lanes to turn.
5. people are everywhere and they are either 1. moving so quickly they appear as flashes, or ghost people as i like to call them, or 2. moving so slowly you can literally watch them age as they cross the street.
6. the parking ramps are expensive, and are inversely related to the distance from work. i don't know how they managed that. when i park across the street, i pay $15/day. when i park 3 blocks away, i pay $8/day. if i ever get desperate and park 10 blocks away, i will pay $5/day. bastards.
7. parking ramps only take cash or checks as payment. since i never carry cash and am running out of checks, i am usually completely screwed.
8. "running to your car" is out of the question. leave something in your car or need to run home for something? don't even think about it, sweetheart. it's not worth it.
9. morning traffic is a bitch because 62w to 35w north is one lane. one lane, people.

ahhh. nothing like a good rant to end your workweek. tgif!

classic bf

the bf made me dinner on monday night.

it had been a long day: first day at the new job, followed by a shift at my second job.

the bf seemed unhappy, preoccupied, quiet.

during dinner, after 20 minutes of constant excited yapping, i paused and cried, "are you breaking up with me?!"

he looked at me with wide eyes and in a low voice replied, "please don't be crazy tonight."

unbreak

the bf and i are back together.

the suspense was killing you, wasn't it? we actually never broke up, we made up that evening (if you know what i mean, wink wink), but i waited a day to tell you.

the great thing about us is that we usually do not have the same fight twice. with the amazing wonders of 1. his patience and 2. his rational personality we avoid big blowouts due to my 1. sensitivity and 2. tendency to flee when frightened.

that is not to say that we both don't work very hard to make this relationship work, just that he works a little bit harder.

i am a dreamer, and i tend to think big ideas out loud. he has the same playful qualities that i do, tempered with good doses of reality. who else would let me hump their leg for a full minute without telling me to get off? who else buys me root beer popsicles and mini chips ahoy cookies? who else would wake up at 5am to watch hot air balloons go up in wisconsin? a guy who likes great sex, that's who. oh, and a laid-back, even-keeled guy like the bf.

we balance. in the wise words of marisa tomei (read: i love her) in untamed heart, "he don't make sense, i don't make sense, together we make sense." but you have to say it the way she does in the movie, otherwise it sounds stupid.

love it

"some nights we just like to fight."

the scenario: club monaco, mall of america, two crazy kids in love on a mission
the set-up: one crazy girl trying to find the perfect 'evening casual' (aka 'what the f?') outfit for her ten-year reunion.

act i: girl tries on mock-neck, open-back, black tunic. decides she loves it before she walks out of the dressing room.
act ii: boy comments on the top, shrugs, continues to flip through magazine.
act iii: girl tries on black polka-dot, capped-sleeve shirt, decides she likes it but is not won over.
act iv: boy tears himself away from magazine long enough to rave about the shirt.
act v: girl tries on drapey, open-back, cinched waist mustard dress. hates it with a passion.
act vi: boy agrees. starts to look disinterested.
act vii: girl tries on high-neck, open-back, belted black dress. feels like audrey hepburn with hips.
act viii: boy comments that the dress looks good, but is not wow. notes that he doesn't know what girl is going for.
act ix: girl says she only goes for wow.
act x: boy eyes the exit and looks hungry. looks expectantly at girl and tells her to get the black tunic.
act xi: girl buys the black top she loves.

the scenario: green bullet, highway 62W, two crazy kids cranky and full of junk food
the set-up: talking amidst prince music playing

girl: i like the top i bought. i knew i wanted it before i came out of the dressing room.
boy: it's a nice top.
girl: you don't like it, but that's okay.
SNAP
boy: i liked it! why don't you believe me when i tell you that? why do you think i'm always trying to humor you?

subsequently, the most ridiculous fight ensued. we were fighting about liking or not liking a top, for f's sake. i sure hope it wasn't the arby's.

got milk?

the bf regulates his weight by the magical powers of milk.

when he is feeling a bit overweight (on a fat day the boy is underweight), he will stock his fridge with skim milk.

when he is feeling a bit underweight (which is most days), he will buy 2%.

it is hilarious. i call him names on his fat days. like fatty fatterson. he prefers chubby mcfattypants.

sometimes i buy him t-shirts, but i always get them too small because i hold up a medium and think that there is no way he will fit into a medium. but then he puts on a small and we laugh because the shirt is so tight his nipples poke holes through it.

the last t-shirt i bought him says 'i love my girlfriend' across the chest. when you turn it inside out it says 'i hate my girlfriend.' i never know which side he is on.

i'm guessing it's going to be an inside out day though.

*this post was purely a test. the bf reads all my posts, and after each reading, i ask him what he thinks. yesterday's post was a snore, he said, "they can't all be my favorites." after this post, he said, "i loved it!"

why? i can only conclude that he favors blogs about himself. which isn't that weird, considering how self-absorbed he is. usually when i say, 'i love you,' he says, 'i love me, too!'

fame

lovin' it so far.

it's much like the first day of school: you meet new people, you learn where everything is, you lock yourself out of the office trying to get to the bathroom, the usual.

i am getting used to macs. i'll say one thing: they are much, much cuter than pc's. like over-the-top-i'm-too-adorable-to-be-a-computer cute. like this-keyboard-is-so-white-i-never-want-to-use-black-ink-or-eat-spaghetti-around-it cute.

i don't know where i am going to park without forfeiting half of my salary to the absurd monthly rates around here. $300 a month? i don't think so. not a big fan of public transportation around here either, though if the train ran from uptown to downtown you can bet your ass i'd be on it. but, that would be too convenient for folks like me. too easy. they'll probably run the train to stillwater and back before they put in a route i could actually use. bitter? nah. i like my green bullet.

the green bullet is what i call my car, an emerald green lexus (don't judge me; she's a '94). the bf says he loves that i drive a junker, and you know what i say? a lexus is never a junker. not even with rusty ducati rims or squeaky brakes. she might be a hooptie, but a junker the green bullet is not. when i haven't seen her in a while, i'll get close and lovingly purr 'hey baby, did ya miss me?' and pat her steering wheel when she's cranky. i love her, and even though her muffler made her sound like a race car this year, i love the way she runs.

yes. i am a car girl. i dream about aston martins.

but i digress - i love my new job a la mary tyler moore!

first class

heading up north for the weekend.

and, as the bf loves to point out, i do not work for an airline, so we are driving. the horror! the bf also likes to note that when I do fly with him, his flying priority is lower, even though we have not missed a flight because of that, ever.

however, when he does fly singular, more often than not he doesn't make his flight, which means his theory of priority is disproved. ha.

on our way back from vegas, i had a paid ticket but he was flying on his benefits, so he ended up with a seat in first class. i had a window seat in coach.

we boarded the plane, parted ways, and i promptly fell asleep. i woke to the sound of the bf calling my name. he tells me they have found a seat for me in first class. i gathered my things and walk up to the front of the plane, assuming he is right behind me. i pass the flight attendant and think nothing of it when she says, 'your boyfriend is SO sweet!' except that he wasn't my boyfriend at the time. i get up to my first class seat and realize that a. he is not behind me and b. there is only one seat available. during this slow connection, i receive a text message that reads: gotcha.

i want to sit next to him. this is our first flight together. i text him so. he says the next move is mine. sigh. i knew what that meant.

true, i don't need to sit in first class, but it's nice.

there were problems with the door of the plane. i made a deal with myself: if they couldn't shut the door in five minutes, i would ask to be moved. one. two. three. three and a half. three and three quarters. i cursed as i pushed the call button. the same flight attendant appeared and i said, 'could i sit by that guy back there?' and she went back to ask the guy next to the bf if he wouldn't mind moving up to first class.

she came back with the guy, and the poor woman next to me, who had let people in and out of her row too many times for it to count as first class, let me out and let him in. i made my way back to coach. and a middle seat. and the bf.

the moral of the story is: if your bf has a seat in first class and moves to a window seat in coach for you, you should always give up your window seat in coach and then seat in first class to sit in the middle seat in coach next to him.

that, or giving up a first class seat for anyone, anywhere, at anytime is really dumb. don't do it.

cue

last night the bf and i celebrated at cue.

the new guthrie is amazing. the patented blue-black of the building was dramatic against an ominous backdrop.

cue is sexy. black mosiacs. blue walls. silver tables. it is as celebrity as a restaurant in the midwest can be.

the menu: an ode to minnesota, with local game mixed with bewildering titles of cuisine.

starters: green gazpacho and spinach salad with duck egg.

i had the beef tenderloin. the bf had salmon. we swapped plates halfway through.

both entrees were good-tasting and fulfilling.

dessert was pistachio frangipane with peach sorbet for me, milk chocolate cream with hazlenut and black pepper caramel for him. fantastic.

the bf had a rough tuesday. his great uncle passed away. he is still waiting for a contract from work. he has a summer cold.

we have a great connection. but last night we were one of those couples that i fear becoming. the couple that goes to dinner and finds everything else more interesting. the bf tells me that there will be days when we don't say much to each other, that not every minute has to be filled with words. but it was more than that. i don't need to be talking constantly when i feel that he is with me. and last night we were together, but not with each other.

so we went to his place. and cuddled. not talking. the connection came back, and i'm glad.

11

happy august.

you know it's going to be a good month when you start off with a week of vacation.

just some minor observations to pass on before i head down to rochester for the day:

1. the bf owns many pairs of boxer-briefs. i folded 11 pairs this morning. most of them are black.
2. the bf has black dress socks. my favorites are argyle.
3. the bf has a downstairs bathroom, and there has been a penny on the floor in there for as long as i can remember.
4. the bf has a stuffed flower. gift from an ex. this morning he used it as a fly swatter.
5. the bf wore a white shirt with gray patterned pants to work yesterday. today he wore a white shirt with gray pants.
6. the bf doesn't believe in shutting cabinet doors or closet doors or drawers or anything that opens, all the way.
7. the bf left his new vacuum in the middle of his living room to remind himself to finish vacuuming. it has been sitting there for a week and a half.

the bf and i have known each other since december of 2002. however, we did not start dating until september 2005. i'll let you do the math. thus, we have no anniversary. so we decided to make one up. september 1 and/or the first friday in september. which means today we have made it past yet another month. phew.

some people have it easy. we take the most difficult, most unconventional route. why? because we're us.