Sporadic updates make all of my posts more exciting. That's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it.
< complain >
I got that damn flu thing again. Except this time, it led to pneumonia. And I gave it to my mother, who also got pneumonia. The pneumonia led to a highly unpleasant rib injury that makes moving around suck. So I sit before this monitor in pain. I don't like pain. < /complain >
I went to Florida for a week with my mother. See, her best friend (Joan) married her UPS guy (Bob) and moved down there, and invited us to come down and visit. So we did. I thought I was going to spend a casual week relaxing and working on my tan. Oh, how wrong I was.
My mother had briefly mentioned that Bob had three sons, and the youngest, Mike, 24, was living with them, in the house in which we'd be staying. She did not mention, however, the possibility of me falling head over heels for said boy.
It started off casual. We were hanging out with our parents, after all. We discussed music, fake IDs, and nice weather. We seemed to have the same taste in everything. We're both night owls, so when midnight rolled around, our parents went to sleep and we were left alone. He breaks out the bowl, and I feel right at home. We talked for hours. We had all kinds of weird little things in common. We had the same fish. We play the same bass, bluish-purple Ibanez. And we could talk about anything.
This went on for days. Every night, our parents would go to sleep, and we'd stay up and talk. I liked him, a lot. On the last night, we exchanged phone numbers and had a long, drawn-out goodbye. There were several awkward silences. Finally, I reached in for a hug, and got a kiss instead. Then we had a "Wait a minute - you like me too?" discussion. And there were many more kisses. It was awesome. It was perfect, really.
But there was a problem, because there always is. I had heard from his family (having his family as informants is awesome, by the way) that he was at the end of a very long term relationship with a girl he'd dated in high school, who lived in New Jersey. No one seemed to know exactly what the deal was, except that they seemed to make each other miserable. He explained it to me a bit on the last night (honesty? Wow!) and told me he wanted to be with me, but had to end things with this girl so as not to be a dick. How long would that take? A month, maybe. I'm patient but frustrated. I arrive back in New York in a joyful haze.
Not even 24 hours after he estimated it would take a month, my mother greets me with a smile in our living room. She says, "I talked to Joan who talked to Bob who talked to Mike. He broke up with that girl. Apparently he really likes you." Well, that was the shortest month ever. Then he calls me and asks me to come back down to Florida.
Long story short, I'm flying back to Florida on the 27th, and Mike and I have spent no less than an hour on the phone every day since. I feel the kind of feeling I thought was reserved for naive highschoolers in puppy love. I walk around in a state of euphoria all day. I can't remember the last time I liked someone this much, or was this happy. This was well worth waiting for.
Puke buckets are in the corner. I know, I know, but come on. I've spent the past several years doing nothing but bitching about relationships. Now I've got the chance to rave about one, and by God, I'm gonna do it.