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Ah, my day off was really, really nice.
I actually sat down yesterday afternoon to write about my lunch with the Artboy, but I wasn�t quite ready yet. Still processing.
I met Damon for dinner on Wednesday at the Dogwood. I love the Dogwood. It�s mere minutes from my house, the food is good, the waitresses all know us by site and treat us well, the food is good and relatively inexpensive�it�s a good place to eat.
I said something to Damon about the wedding plans. I don�t talk much about the wedding to Damon. After his behavior at the Christmas Party, I guess I�m a little wary of broaching the subject of my love life with him. Our conversations skirt the issue a lot. This topic, my marrying the Boyfriend, is no exception. I�m just not comfortable discussing it with him.
Unfortunately, he�s taken my avoidance as evidence that I don�t really want to get married. This is not good.
I don�t want to say he�s seized upon the thought and is running with it, but that�s sort of true. I�m fairly certain he doesn�t want to see it happen, or that he at least wouldn�t be the least bit sorry if I told him the Boyfriend and I broke up. This only serves to make me more uncomfortable and skirt the issue more, which only reinforces his belief that it�s not really something I want.
Should I just decide to not be careful of his feelings and talk on whatever comes to mind? I don�t want to think that my days of friendship with him are numbered, but I don�t quite know what to do.
After dinner, I walked into the apartment to find Chris getting ready to go out. He was meeting Heather at Bad Abbots, a divey little bar in Quincy full of darts and cigarette smoke. Somehow, I let him convince me to change and go with him. Perhaps the knowledge that I didn�t have to get up for work Thursday made me less worried about how tired I was. Perhaps Chris�s promise that we�d stay for just one drink, since he needed to be up at 5 a.m., helped tip the scales. Regardless, I put on different shoes and headed out the door again.
Heather was already seated at the bar when we arrived, talking to her friend Dan, whom I�ve met a couple times. Chris and I pulled up stools and ordered. Heather was telling us about a list she and another friend of ours had started making a list of their top 100 books of all time. Not their favorites, necessarily, but the books they think are the most well written. I disagreed with many of their choices, but recognize it�s their list and reflects their opinions. As such, I�m making my own list, of my own favorite books (I think that�s more truthful than what I think is best--who am I to say that?!). I�ll post it once I finish.
Going to sleep Wednesday night without setting my alarm was such a lovely experience. I still woke up at 7:30, but I woke up because my head was ready to be awake, not because Steve Sweeney was quacking in my ear. I sat in bed until almost 9, just enjoying the fact that I didn�t have to get up. Eventually, though, the list of things I�d made to do overcame my desire to hide under my sheets and watch Maury, and I crawled out.
My apartment, I can happily report, is much cleaner now. I�m no longer afraid of my bathroom. My CD�s aren�t all in the wrong cases in a heap next to the rack any more. I can walk across my floor without worrying about breaking either my stuff or my leg. These are all good things.
The phone rang at 12:30, the Artboy calling from J.P. Licks, asking if I still wanted to do lunch. He was making ice cream. I asked what flavor. He laughed. Oreo and black raspberry. We made arrangements to meet at the store at 1. I hung up and panicked.
Crap�I�m going to have to finish this later�
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