So, remember when I said I was pissed that BE didn’t come with me to the visitation for my deceased friend? Well, I started planning what I was going to say to him. On Thursday at work, I opened a Word document and started typing out what I was going to say, after I talked to Andy about it over gchat. I know, typing a list of things to say to BE (and then E-MAILING IT TO MYSELF) makes me a huge dork. I knew, though, that if I didn’t type it out and recite it to myself, I would get flustered and forget what I was going to say (like I always do).

So I referred to it a few times that day, in between tasks (wouldn’t you know that the week my boss is gone, I had INSANE amounts of work to do, so I couldn’t even play on the internet all day. Tragic).

After work that day, I met my friend Honey from work, and Claire at a local pub for happy hour. We had a really fantastic time, gossiping and just being girly over copious amounts of beer and nachos. So by the time 8:00 rolled around, I was pretty tipsy. Honey left, so it was just me and Claire. Then BE called.

“Hey, whatcha doin?”
“I’m up at [name of pub], drinking some beer with Claire.”
“Oh, I was thinking about coming up there and getting a bite to eat. You still gonna be there in a little bit?”
“Yeah, if you’re lucky.”

The Coors Light had given me enough liquid courage to smart off to BE, which was good. At least he wasn’t thinking I was, you know, OKAY with his flakiness on Sunday.

On the same note, though? I was just tipsy enough to completely eff my speech up. And I effed it up good.

After BE arrived, Claire left so we could talk.

My rant our conversation started out nicely enough. I started with something like this, almost verbatim from the e-mail I sent to myself:

I wasn’t going to say anything just yet, because I was, and still am, kind of emotional about it. But I’m going to be honest with you, just the same as I would want you to be honest with me. We both deserve honesty. I was upset that you didn’t come with me to the visitation. I needed someone to be there with me. It was awful having to go alone.

He agreed that yes, it was pretty shitty of him and he apologized.

“That’s not all,” I said.
“OK, what else?”

This is where I stumbled over the rest of it and it came out like verbal diarrhea.

I tried to explain to him that it was irritating that he would call to tell me what he was doing before he “headed home,” because really, what’s the fucking point? If you don’t want to hang out with me, don’t call to tell me what you’re doing INSTEAD of seeing me.

“Well fine then, I just won’t call you anymore.”
“You KNOW that’s not what I meant. What I meant was, uh, just, uh . . . um . . . I’m not trying to be unreasonable here. I just get frustrated when you call and I think you’re going to ask me to do something with you, and instead you’re like, ‘Well I’m going to my parents’ house for dinner and then I’ll probably go home.’”

Then he went on to say he’d argued with past girlfriends about that same topic. He was confused because he was thinking, “Well do you WANT me to call, or do you NOT want me to call?”

I kinda see his point. Men think differently than women. They’re more black and white, where we are more “gray area” type thinkers.

So I guess we accomplished SOMETHING with that conversation. Like I’ve said before, no relationship is perfect. You have to WORK at them.

So that was Thursday.

Friday? Was the Best. Day. Ever.

Naturally, I wore my cheerleading uniform to work. And, naturally, I was the ONLY ONE to dress up. I felt like a total fool. But I just let it roll off my back and the day actually turned out pretty great.

I work in the Marketing/PR department at a small college, and Claire is actually enrolled in one of the programs. Each year, we have a Halloween parade, and many of the different programs make a “float” and dress up to be in the parade. Claire had complained the night before about having to participate, so imagine my surprise when I saw Claire coming around the corner, her hair a mess from hairspray and blood painted all over her face and neck, being “dragged” by a guy dressed as a crazy hunchback doctor. “Dr. Nuts and Patient Insane” were what they were called, and Claire was TOTALLY in character, acting like an escaped mental patient and screaming, “Let me gooooooo! AHHHHHHHHH! Help me! Help meeeee! Let me gooooo!” I honestly could not contain my laughter, it was that kind of laughter that makes your face hurt. Everyone was cracking up, and they won second place in the costume contest.

About an hour before quittin’ time, I got an e-mail from one of my male coworkers. He was going to take his plane up into the air after work and wanted to know if I wanted to come along.

SHIT YEAH I WANNA RIDE IN YO AIRPLANE HOMESKILLET!

I can’t really explain how awesome it was. It was just. Awesome. I got to take aerial photos with my fancy Nikon D200 (work camera, not my own. I can’t be affordin’ that shit), so I got some really cool pictures of my house and the downtown area of my town. We flew to a nearby city and landed at the airport there, and HE LET ME TAKE OFF.

It was SO. AMAZING.

I GOT TO FLY THE PLANE. AND I GOT TO TAKE OFF FROM THE RUNWAY.

It was so exciting. He was going, “Push in the throttle. All the way! ALL THE WAY! YEAH!”

That shit was Off. The. Chain.

So yeah. I’ll definitely be doing that again.

Later that night, I went out and met BE at one of the bars that was having a Halloween bash. I was rocking my Karen Carpenter dress with straight hair:

(Again, not my face. Greta Garbo’s.)

Isn’t that dress THE SHIT?

Yeah, I thought so too.

BE was loving my straight hair. He kept running his fingers through it. He was really, really nice to me. He was very affectionate, and we were being all lovey-dovey, like a real live COUPLE.

I can’t really explain what it’s like when I’m with BE. At times, I want to tear his hair out, but when it’s good?

It is Oh. So. Good.

Friday night was the first night where I actually thought, you know? I could fall in love with him. I can totally feel it from him, too. When we first started dating, he would say things like, “If I’m still here . . .” or “If we’re still dating . . .” but now? He says things like, “NEXT YEAR, we are going to do THIS . . .” and it’s nice to know that he’s talking about us like we actually have a future together. It seems with every argument/discussion we have, it’s like he GETS IT (and at the same time, he GETS ME) a little bit more, and it seems like he’s really trying to step up to the plate. We aren’t always going to agree on everything, but our extreme “like” for each other trumps all that. For me, anyway.

By the end of the night, though? Sadly, my dress ripped. Whoever wore that shit back in the day was seriously tiny. I had to dig up a sundress from the wayback of my vehicle and change into it. Rest in peace, 70’s dress. You will be missed.

Anyhoods, again. I know you’re not all on the BE bandwagon right now, but our relationship is SO much more than what I put into this blog. I’m starting to figure him out and vice versa. Which is making us both happier. The good is outweighing the bad, by far. By LEAPS AND BOUNDS.

And I think that’s an excellent place to be.