I've started and stopped this entry about 9 times tonight. I know what I want to say, I just don't know how to get it out. Let's start now and work our way back shall we?
I'm sitting at my boss' house watching Bruce Springsteen in concert (he's got 6 discs of Springsteen live on his Escient -I'm loving life!). There is a muppet curled up next to my butt. A muppet that was sick this week and that I'm really happy is all better. I'm dog sitting. Which has been torturous with the swimming and hot tubing and reading and watching movies. Somehow I persevere.
I woke up this morning to a panicky call from my friend Em (who is also my boss' daughter) telling me that the muppet was better, but that our friend Noah was in a lot of pain. His cat got out. And since the last cat that got out never came back, he was really fucked up. There was no hesitation, I decided I was going there to help them look. Before I could get out of the shower and on my way Mr. Jim had been found. After Noah called to thank me for offering to come, I burst into tears. The joy in his voice from finding Jim was overwhelming. I love that kid a lot. He's like the little brother I never had. He's a fuck up, don't get me wrong, I know he is, but he's special too. I don't make friends easily or quickly and there was long period of time that I hated that kid (our working relationship is very dependant on one another). But somewhere it became more. He calls me Pennsylvania Mom when I'm mothering him to excess and Doog most other times. He's That Kid when he's done something dumb - like put a sparkler and cigarette out on his leg. Or shaved his whole head but left just a strip of hair off the back so he resembles a Guinea pig. He's mostly My Friend Noah though. We'll always be friends... I believe that. I don't think that they are just words. I'm fortunate to have him in my life. He met my folks and talked baseball with my pop for hours. He was sweet to my mom. He's quiet and sweet and smart and funny. He's a good kid. But he should wear adult shoes. And cut his hair. And shower more. And drink less. And keep being awesome.
Now for the awkward segue...
So, this phone call that woke me up this morning? Woke me up at my boyfriend's house. I have a boyfriend. I could explain to you how and when and why. Or I could leave it at that. It's probably more pleasant to leave it at that. Those of you that read this because you know me will facebook me or call or email and ask for explanations. Those of you that read this because the internet is full of idiots tossing their life stories up there for some voyeuristic thrill and it's easy to get sucked in, I'm sorry their aren't more details. But everyone should know these things:
I'm sorry I lied about being lonely.
This isn't the reason my marriage ended.
I'm happy. Having this person in my life makes me really happy.
He's good to me and we have oodles of stuff in common.
He isn't a loser (although he'll be the first to deny this) but he's not a loser by my standards. No drug addiction, no alcoholism, not abusive, has a job.
That job? It's at the same company I work at.
It's not Noah.
The situation is ugly, I know it is. I know explaining it here in skeletal form makes it seem like I'm ashamed of it. I'm not. I'm proud. But I also know that there is a lot of baggage and there are a lot of people who can be hurt or saddened by this. I wanted to wait until I was sure this had some permanence. I didn't want to say "I have a boyfriend" in March only to turn around in April and say "Never mind". So I've had a boyfriend for awhile. He's a good dude. And I like him. I'm lucky.
Alright enough love fest. I'm going to take my muppet and go to bed. Good night Internet.
