Super Massive Overshare....

…..Which is not to be confused with supermassive black hole, which would be the song that played while all the Cullens played baseball. That’s right, I saw Twilight. I’ll admit it. And Edward Cullen? Absolutely sexy for no good reason. Oh dear do I want him for all the wrong reasons. Him or James. James was HOTTTTTTTTT.

But this post is not about Twilight (but it could be). But it won’t be. Post is about..the drought. Being over. Oh yes, the year and a half or so without…is over. Whoo! I got some! Whoo!!! It’s an overshare of large proportions, but I had to share. How could I not? And there are so many things I could say about the large proportions thing..and Achilles. I won't. But know that there could be a relationship between the two. HINT.

Achilles made it happen. I mean, we both knew it was going to happen and whatever. That’s fine. So on Friday, I had the house to myself. My parents and brother were out seeing Tim McGraw and I was alone (yes, I still live at home. It’s not because I want to, it’s because I’m DEAD ASS BROKE). I told Achilles he HAD to come over because, hello, it was an acceptable time to come to my house. No one else was around. He didn’t have to be exposed to all the crazy. I had an minor meltdown on Friday (but I recovered, mostly) and during the day, one of my coworkers bought me ice cream. Because he is AWESOME. I was telling Achilles about how that ice cream made my day better. Achilles one upped him. He came over, with HALF BAKED ice cream…and condoms. It was sexy. He goes “I brought you presents!” and I danced around the kitchen. I was so excited about the ice cream, I didn’t notice anything else in the bag. He told me to look again and huzzah, protected sex would be had! I told him the lady at CVS must have known that he meant business, what with serious ice cream and serious condoms. We both had a good laugh. He is wonderous. Friday was pretty excellent, I tried to get him to stay with me because it was fucking cold in my house and sometimes, when I’m home by myself, I get all nervous pervous about things that don’t exist. He didn’t spend the night with me though. I do have a tiny bed and we both would have slept like shit. His bed though? Totally awesome and comfortable. I want to stay there.

I made pie with Lilo on Saturday because we are amazing bakemastery all-stars. I was texting Achilles, telling him to be jealous of my pie. Which turned into a totally inappropriate conversation about my pie. How could it not? Yesterday, I brought him some maple pecan pie because he asked so nicely for it. We sat in his bed, all snuggled up, eating pie. It was great – it was cold and snowy outside, we were all snuggled and gross and adorable inside – it was just what I needed.

Achilles really makes me feel good about myself. So in a previous post where I said that I would have to take massive xanax or be so shitty drunk to take off my clothes – that wasn’t my reality. I just…I did it. I didn’t freak out (much) about being nakeeeeeeed in front of him. He makes me feel like I’m just…wonderful. I know that’s the way it’s SUPPOSED to be, that’s how good relationships work. But that’s really never been the way that relationships work for me. Achilles is a totally different experience than I know what to do with. But Achilles still has enough jerk in him to make me like him. If he was nice all the time, I wouldn’t be able to handle that. He’s still funny and makes me smile. And he’s been determined to stick his finger in my nose. I’m not sure why, exactly, but it’s okay. I don’t mind. I like that I can be like that with him and it’s okay.

I also think my parents are starting to suspect that I’m up to something. I’m telling them that I am going other places or going out with other people when I go out with Achilles. I just don’t know how to tell them exactly what I’m up to. It has nothing to do with who Achilles is. I adore him and I really do want to share him with the people that care about me. But I know that they don’t know how to act. They will tweak that he’s 9 years older than me. I don’t ever really notice that he is. We’re very much alike and I just don’t ever really see the difference between us. They would totally fly off the handle when/if they found out how I met him. And that’s the dumbest part. I’ve posted about it before, but so many girls, girls that are way prettier and more awesome than I am, are finding guys on Match.com. That’s just what happens when you get tired of meeting guys in bars, not working with any men and having lots of married friends (sorry Summer and Lilo). I know many people that have done it and it’s no reason to hide it. But because my family is fucking BATSHIT insane, there’s nothing I can do. I was telling Achilles this yesterday because he told me that I just should tell them what’s up. I’m thinking it might be best to just spring it on them. They won’t have time to react, they won’t have time to think and I’ll make them see that he’s really lovely and fabulous.

Why yes it does

From last night

Last night I went out with one of my good friends, known from now on as Chicago. He's an excellent source of amusement and most importantly, logic. I told him the entire story of Dickhole Pete and he suggested that we go out, drink a little bit and just forget about how he was a dickhole. I agreed.

While we were out, I ran down the list of things that made me not want to kill everything yesterday out of total annoyance:
- "Made of Bricks" by Kate Nash. Excellent CD. She's man angry!
- Chicago and Lilo - love you both
- And this dumb quote that kept running through my head...all day...
"Maybe we like the pain. Maybe we're wired that way. Because without it, I don't know; maybe we just wouldn't feel real. What's that saying? Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop." - Grey's Anatomy

Chicago then brought up the above linked movie clip from "Annie Hall"...just watch, it explains itself. It's totally true. You do this, you get beat up, you fall down, you like people, you hate people...and it's just so exhausting. It takes a lot of energy to be this involved with yourself and someone else. Because I know the end result is what I want. I miss being with someone. And as I said to Chicago last night, I'm lucky that I have enough guy friends to fill all the roles that boyfriends would: I go out with Chicago and Jimbo for movies and drinks and dinner, I go to Reaper when I need someone to just love me just because, and I have a gay boyfriend that I go to when I need a little gay. I want to have all those things in one person. I want to be able to look to one person for all of that stuff and not have to make 45,000 phone calls.

The other thing I realized is that in the past, when a major relationship ended, I always did something to change myself. When Reaper and I broke up, I dyed my hair red, like if I was a redhead, shit wouldn't hurt anymore. When Bootcamp boyfriend and I broke up, I dyed my hair red again. The 2nd, 3rd and 4th times we broke up, I kept on cutting my hair. When the Statie and I broke up, I chopped my hair and got it highlighted and got a new car and a new job and more or less changed everything in my life. I don't think that Statie was the one that undid me, but it was the change from College to Real World and I needed that to happen.

And at the end of this rambling post, I get to the main point...I keep on doing this because I think a part of likes the pain. A part of me likes having someone be so interested in me that it consumes my day. I like being a flirty sort of person because that's not how I normally am. I like knowing that someone, somewhere is thinking of me and thinking that I'm as amazing as I make myself out to be. And sooner or later, I'm going to have to stop hitting myself because someone is going to get in the way of my hand and the hammer.