Saturday
Sep242005
Alone Vs. Lonely
Alone isn't the same as lonely. Right now, however, I am both. The Surge is Berlin bound for the first of many tours this autumn and winter. So here we sit, Max and I. We live on the first floor, good for my wimpy thighs, bad for noise.. Every time Max hears keys jingling at the front of the apartment he runs to our front door, backside wiggling in anxious anticipation of his 'poppers'.. Yes, we are 'poppers' and 'mommers' and he knows what they mean. If I'm busy (a.k.a watching television) and Max is whimpering for a play pal, I can tell him "go see poppers!" and he clickety clacks, dog paws on hardwood floor, down our hallway of an apartment and leaps onto the bed where The Surge is reading some magazine or other. We call him 'Tiny Max', because, of course, he's anything but. He's gargantuan, yet thinks he's but a chihuahua.. so he's forever trodding on someones goodtimes, accidentally whipping unfortunate faces with his always wagging tail, dragging dripping bubble gum tongue over any exposed area of skin.
We could learn a lot from dogs.. Loyalty - there isn't a time I twist the key in the lock that Max isn't dog dancing, skittering across tiled floors to say hello, as if I've been gone for years.. This occurs whether I've been at work all day or just went to check the mail. Perseverance - he will sit, doggy drool dangling nearly to the floor, as we eat our dinner. Doesn't move a muscle, although he knows if he's lucky, he may only get a scrap or two, maybe a lick of the plate. Yet he sits, staring intently, patiently waiting.. Unconditional love - if I sleep late, he doesn't get annoyed, just sleeps until I decide to roll outta bed. If I yell at him, he comes in for a nuzzle to make it all better. So it's not all bad with The Surge out rockboying his way across Europe.. I still have my Maxer..
Last night The Surge and I got into it.. No, not sex silly, a fight. A Monica-tosses- $10-dollar-wedding-ring-across-the-room-and-says-I-want-a-divorce kind of fight. Always one for the dramatics, I let it all hang out last night. Thing is, not sure what started it. Actually, I know what started it.
I've got a good man, I do. It's only that, I'm not sure I'm good. Yeah, The Surge has a way with words, which, while certainly a boon for songwriting and wooing young mormon girls, can cause grave injury mid-argument. He uses the words, as his brother says 'like a sword'. And he can smite you with his weapon of choice if he's so inclined, leaving gaping wounds behind. They slowly scab over, rough scars that I scratch at next time we fight.. My war wounds I wave stupidly, proudly in his face to shame him. But he's all talk. Underneath he's a little boy in love. Any fool can see that, even this one. But I can't just take it at face value, and love back. I have to complicate the issue, second guess myself, wonder if I'm with the right person.
We got married two months after meeting. And it's not like we were dating every night. Met him in Utah - one night. Met up again in Texas - 3 nights. Met again in New York - one week. Then he flew to Utah and we got married. Add it up friends. Yes, we dated a grand total of a week and half before getting hitched. The kicker is, I think we were meant to be. Really I do. And it's taken me nearly a year to figure it out. 'It can't be that easy' I think to myself. 'After dating scores of Mr. Wrong, I can't finally have found my fella', I say to myself. But I did. And he's the most beautiful boy I've ever met.
We could learn a lot from dogs.. Loyalty - there isn't a time I twist the key in the lock that Max isn't dog dancing, skittering across tiled floors to say hello, as if I've been gone for years.. This occurs whether I've been at work all day or just went to check the mail. Perseverance - he will sit, doggy drool dangling nearly to the floor, as we eat our dinner. Doesn't move a muscle, although he knows if he's lucky, he may only get a scrap or two, maybe a lick of the plate. Yet he sits, staring intently, patiently waiting.. Unconditional love - if I sleep late, he doesn't get annoyed, just sleeps until I decide to roll outta bed. If I yell at him, he comes in for a nuzzle to make it all better. So it's not all bad with The Surge out rockboying his way across Europe.. I still have my Maxer..
Last night The Surge and I got into it.. No, not sex silly, a fight. A Monica-tosses- $10-dollar-wedding-ring-across-the-room-and-says-I-want-a-divorce kind of fight. Always one for the dramatics, I let it all hang out last night. Thing is, not sure what started it. Actually, I know what started it.
I've got a good man, I do. It's only that, I'm not sure I'm good. Yeah, The Surge has a way with words, which, while certainly a boon for songwriting and wooing young mormon girls, can cause grave injury mid-argument. He uses the words, as his brother says 'like a sword'. And he can smite you with his weapon of choice if he's so inclined, leaving gaping wounds behind. They slowly scab over, rough scars that I scratch at next time we fight.. My war wounds I wave stupidly, proudly in his face to shame him. But he's all talk. Underneath he's a little boy in love. Any fool can see that, even this one. But I can't just take it at face value, and love back. I have to complicate the issue, second guess myself, wonder if I'm with the right person.
We got married two months after meeting. And it's not like we were dating every night. Met him in Utah - one night. Met up again in Texas - 3 nights. Met again in New York - one week. Then he flew to Utah and we got married. Add it up friends. Yes, we dated a grand total of a week and half before getting hitched. The kicker is, I think we were meant to be. Really I do. And it's taken me nearly a year to figure it out. 'It can't be that easy' I think to myself. 'After dating scores of Mr. Wrong, I can't finally have found my fella', I say to myself. But I did. And he's the most beautiful boy I've ever met.
Introspection
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