Party in my bedroom

Tonight I have a choice of going to one of the hottest events of the year or wait in a semi-empty loft for my new mattress to arrive. And since my back still hurts from sleeping on the newly-installed hardwood floors two weeks ago, chances are I'm staying at home.

I can host my own private party in my bedroom later.

Clark Kent and Superman

Clark Kent and Superman were two men in the same body. The only thing that differentiated the two personalities wasn't a suit or a cape, but a pair of glasses. When he took them off, he became a superhero. When they were on, he was back to a meek reporter. It's strange how no one recognized they were one in the same. But, I can understand how it can happen.

I've been told that I look like two different people when I wear my glasses and when I take them off. I don't see it. I see the same face looking back at me in the mirror, day in and day out. From top to bottom, the brows, eyes, nose and mouth look the same. It could be that I don't notice it because I see it all the time, like those five pounds that I can't lose.

Or, it could be that it's not a difference of opinion, but a difference of being long-sighted.

Note: I should've posted two pics to make my point. Damn.

Size large

One of the biggest surprises of dating J is I found out I was buying the wrong size of condoms. After years of modesty, I'm apparently a large. Who knew?

Pain in the back

At the end of the housewarming, after cleaning up the tiny mess my guests left behind during the low-key event, I got ready for bed. I was tired and I had to get up early the next day because I was traveling. The only issue is that I didn't have a bed. What I had was a floor; a newly-installed hardwood floor.

It should've been memorable since it was the first time I slept over at my new loft. It was memorable for the wrong reasons. I have slept on floors before; sometimes it was because I wanted to, and sometimes because I was forced to (being pushed out of bed isn't something I like to happen to me).

It wasn't bad for the first half hour, but then it did get bad. And from bad it went to worse... much, much worse. I was waking up every few minutes because of the pain. At the start, I thought it was because of the two drinks I had and my lumbar issues were due to dehydration. After going to the kitchen for a couple of glasses of water, I found out that wasn't the case. The floor was hard and it was taking it out on my back.

By the next morning, I wasn't able to move. I couldn't stretch, lean forward, bend down, or twist my torso. Basically, anything that required the top half of my body to move required a lot of wincing and whining. It also doesn't help I was going to take care of my two nieces the next day.

Now, I know that no matter what the circumstance, I will be sleeping on the floor only if there's a mattress on it first and if I have a large bottle of extra strength Tylenol on hand to help ease the pain. Sweet, sweet drugs...

Housewarming

Tonight is the night of my housewarming. The housewarming of my first home. The one that isn't rented, but purchased with my own money. And, it's going to be a blast. At least, I hope it will be.

It's been said that a party is only as good as its guests. I beg to differ. I think a party is only as good as the food, drinks, and music. The guests will certainly complain if they're not fed, drunk, and entertained by the end of the night (or the beginning of it, if they're a bunch of bitches).

I've taken care of a few details. True, I don't really care for organizing such things because I'd rather let other people do it while I lounge on a chaise and direct a series of minions to carry out the menial tasks. Sadly, the minions went away for the long weekend.

There's an alcohol sponsor (thankfully), a water sponsor (probably), a furniture sponsor (they don't know it, yet), and a possible goody bag sponsor (because everyone should take a little bit of me home to mom and dad). Beside that, the catering/sanitation services will be done by my friends/family and myself.

Hopefully, everyone will enjoy themselves. It's a celebration! My guests should have fun! And, if they don't like the party, they can leave because I don't want them there.

Mixed messages text messages

From the moment that cell phones had the opportunity to leave short memos between two people (i.e. text messages), communication has been faltering to some degree.

It’s not the murder of grammar usage (u, r, and ttyl, being a few culprits), but the lack of sense they contain. How can a couple of words be deciphered in such a manner to be logical?

I had to learn this the hard way when I first met J because J is fond of texting, even though I am not. There were some texts I received at the start that made me scratch my head in confusion because I had no idea what they meant.

Safe trek home my friend!

I made it home alive and alone tonight. You should be proud. We going out next week?

Were they supposed to be friendly in nature? Flirty? Teasing? Cloying? What?

It wasn’t soon after when I began to understand what they meant. The reason for this comprehension was due to the fact that I was speaking to (not texting) J.

Of course, after a couple of months of back-and-forth texting, there are few times when words are misinterpreted (like when I mention the f-word – fat). But, that’s just a mixed message text message, like any other.

Space

According to dictionary.com, one of the meanings of space is the freedom or opportunity to express oneself, resolve a personal difficulty, be alone, etc.; allowance, understanding, or non-interference.

Sadly, you never know what it really feels like unless you’re living with and within it.

**

“M is coming over and I don’t want you to stay,” is a new email message I get on the day after our talk.

“But, where will I go?”

“Home. Your home.” The reply comes a little too quickly.

A few seconds after reading that last reply, something clicks in my head. I tell my co-workers I‘m going to step out for a ½ hour and I’ll be back.

In a rush, I walk to J’s place, step into the unit, and in less than 10 minutes, I pack everything that is mine or had any memories associated with me. Clothes, toothbrush, hairbrush, soap, shampoo, condoms, food, books, magazines, and pictures; it’s all placed in a couple of bags.

All of this is done in a rather emotionless state of mind. These actions aren't done out of spite, revenge, or mendacity, but because they are a request that is being complied with.

Before I walk out, I look around one more time, knowing this might be the last time I’ll ever be here, take a deep breath and say goodbye. No tears are shed because I won't will myself to cry.

This is space, and it’s what J asked for. It’s not going to be easy to live with space if you’re not accustomed to it, but it’s something that has to be learned, no matter how much it hurts to do so.

**

The irony of it all is J doesn’t know what J means and it’s evident in the various attempts that are made in the following weeks to alleviate the nothingness between the both of us. As it turns out, J doesn't know the meaning of the word.

Easiest way to start a fight

The easiest way to start a fight with anyone is to call him/her a fattie. This I learned the hard way and it wasn't easy to get out of.

Revenge fucking

Right after the change of status of the relationship between J and me, I wasn’t feeling too well. I was in a funk and it was all justified. Granted, I wasn’t a wet rag, but I was somewhat miserable (yet functional).

On more than one occasion, I was told I to get some action immediately. I wasn’t feeling the need to. Even though I’d have no problem picking someone up (I’ve got something to offer, and I shouldn’t kid myself that I don’t), I didn’t want to. My headspace wasn’t there. Sex never solved anything for me and sometimes it even made things worse.

To be honest, I don’t understand the concept of revenge fucking. Who cares if you’re having sex with someone else? I understand how it can make someone else jealous, but unless they’re in the same room while you’re getting it on, then it doesn’t matter. You’re affecting their sense of pride because you’re doing something intimate with someone else. It’s all in the head between someone’s shoulders, not the head between someone’s legs.

I’m also one of those people who craves a connection first. If the connection is there, then everything falls into place without being forced (and I don’t like being forced into anything).

So, as opposed to revenge fucking, I’m going to do some revenge head fucking. I know it’s more effective, I can do it by myself and it doesn’t require a trip to the VD clinic.

Lofty ambitions

Today I will move into my new place. The only difference between this place and others is a big one. I’m not talking about size, but ownership.

For years, I paid my dues and saved every dollar and cent I could in order to buy something I could call my own. A lot of sacrifices were made (time, space, sanity), but now I can say I own my very own place.

It’s not a place by the beach, or a mansion in the Briar Path, but I am moving on up (even if I’m not very high off the ground). Situated downtown, my two-storey loft has high ceilings, lots of sunlight, a small patio, and room for all my crap.

Sadly, the only problem I have is one of furniture; I don’t have much of it. But, after waiting years to become a homeowner, I'm impatient to get it furnished. No matter how fabulous your place is, no one wants to sit, eat or sleep on the floor.