I know that everyone else has hurt you. I know that everyone else has left you. I know that everyone else has broken your trust.

But I won't. I am here to stay. Forever and ever and ever.

And I can't believe that I have finally found someone that won't hurt me...that won't leave me...that won't break my trust.

And this I truely believe.

I know that we're both afraid, but I think that we're both finally starting to realize that maybe there's no reason for the fear. Because my love for you is infinite. And somehow, someway, you've made it abundantly clear to me that your love for me is just as vast.

Labels: Guy #6, I think I threw up a little in my mouth

There's this guy at work who always just stands at the doorway of my office and stares. Whenever I ask him what he wants, he just laughs.

I don't like him.

Labels: Randomness

All I want to do is go and home relax. That's all.

And the thing is, I can't do that right now. When my house gets cluttered, my mind gets cluttered. And when my mind gets cluttered, then I can't relax. And when I can't relax, I get stressed. And when I get stressed, I get ANGRY.

To make things worse, the clutter that I see in my house does not belong to me. It belongs to THEM. THEY who do not pay the mortgage. Which upsets me more than it should, when I already feel stressed.

So here's what I want: If you don't pay bills at my house, then please vacate it. And if you do pay bills at my house, THEN CLEAN UP YOUR FREAKIN MESS.

Because I can't deal with this anymore. My house is my sanctuary. It's the only place in this world that I go to calm myself down. And if you take that away from me (which I feel like you have) then I am going to EXPLODE and it's not gonna be pretty.

And no. I don't wanna talk to you or you about it. Talk is cheap. I want action.

Labels: ANGER, Squatters

Everyday I pray to God and ask Him to help me be patient.

I don't know if it's working. But I'm trying REALLY REALLY REALLY hard.

I think that everyday I fall more and more and more in love with Guy #6. And I can't believe that he loves me just as much as I love him. And that makes me believe in miracles all over again. I wonder if it makes him believe?

I think that I will try to go for a walk today. No matter how tired I am after work. We'll see. I'm sure I'll sing a different tune by the time I get home.

Labels: Guy #6, Randomness

So here's the thing: Even though I love love love you, (please note that I used 3 loves and not just 1) I cannot live with you.

And no, it's not you. It's totally totally totally me.

You see, I'm an only child. And as an only child, I have this innate inability to share. Anything. At all. Period.

And this includes my house.

I want to be able to talk on the phone, without you listening in. I want to be able to leave my bedroom door open, so that the cat can wonder in and out, whenever she wants. And I hate that I have to close my bedroom door, whenever I want to change my clothes, have a private conversation (in hushed tones,) or just be left alone. I hate that whenever I want to leave the confinement of my bedroom, I have to put on a bra, or clothes for that matter...for just in case reasons. But most of all, I hate that I'm the one who has an extra room in her house. Because if it wasn't for that, then I wouldn't be in this situation, now would I? It sucks that every single person, on the face of this Earth, thinks that just because I have this extra room, with this extra bed, that I'll be happy to share it. Guess what? I'm not. I didn't buy this house, with this extra room for you. I bought it for me. I bought it for the very rare event that my parents might want somewhere to sleep whenever they come and visit. Or my grandpa. But really, that's it. Because as mentioned previously, I don't like to share.

But I just don't understand, really, why you're at my house. I want to understand. Actually I'm trying really really hard to be understanding. I wake up every morning, and talk myself out of being angry about it all. But...well...I don't know...I guess that if I were in your situation, I'd go home. As in home-home. Like to my parents' home. I don't know...I've never been in your situation. So maybe I wouldn't. But I don't think that I would or could bring myself to live in anyone else's home, other than my parents', without paying rent. And yes, I know the money situation. Which is why I think, were I in your situation, I'd go home. But like I said, maybe I would act differently, if I walked a mile in your shoes. And I think that's why I haven't said anything to you. What if there is that one day when I need a place to stay? I know, for a fact, that you would let me stay with you. Even though I would just go to my parents' house instead.

I'll get over it eventually. But admittedly, it won't be until after you leave. And hopefully, you won't hold it against me. Because we both knew ahead of time, that this is the way that I am. And even though I'm typing this out on the internet, for the whole world to read, I'm banking on the notion that you won't read it. I'm banking on the notion that the whole world is assuming that I don't blog anymore.

And yes, I know...I'm selfish. But I'm allowed to be like that in my own house.

Labels: Randomness, Squatters, Yes I'm shallow...get over it

1. I want to find a job closer to home. This commute makes me unhappy. And I can't be The Merry Widow if I'm unhappy. I think I will "devote" the next couple of months to updating my resume and applying for a few jobs online, to see if anyone bites.

2. The flu sucks. I'm pretty sure that I could have been declared "clinically dead" this past weekend. I don't care if you don't believe me.

3. I want the snot in my head and chest to go away.

4. Scott needs to understand that I can't workout with him until above mentioned snot goes away. Snotty Widow = Asthma Widow = Trip to E.R.

5. I need to get my home owner's insurance stuff together.

6. Don't forget to call Guy #3.

7. I don't like to share. Don't make me do it anymore.

8. Finish reading The Secret.

9. Apply "secret" to above list.

10. Don't forget that he really does love me. He really really does. :-)

Labels: Guy #3, Guy #6, Randomness, Squatters

This past weekend, I decided that I finally needed to do something about the fact that ALL of my jeans are way way WAY too tight and that even when I do finally get them buttoned, all I want to do is unbutton them so that I can breeeeeeeeeeeeath. So when Scott, one of my boyfriend's best friends, who also happens to be one of the top personal trainers in H-Town, called me to ask me if I was ever going to get off of my big jello-ass and start working out with him, I finally took the plunge and said yes. Luckily for Scott, he just so happened to call at the exact moment when I was trying to suck in my muffin-top of a stomach so that I could squeeze into my jeans. And right when I said outloud to myself, "I'M TIRED OF BEING FAT!" he called.

Soooooooooooooooo, because I look like Winnie the Pooh, walking around in t-shirts that are too tight and too small around the middle, I made a commitment and told Scott that I would meet up with him, at his gym, at 7pm for an initial training session. And because my boyfriend looks like he's about 4 months pregnant, with twins, I made him come too. (Actually, I love love love his Buddah-Belly...he wanted to come on his own.)

Well, Scott talked us through his "warm-up" routine and by the time that boyfriend and I were done with our hundreth, er...I mean tenth squat, my legs turned to J-E-L-L-O, and I fell onto the floor, having lost all the strength needed to support my big, round, fat-bastard, belly.

But Scott didn't become one of the best trainers in Houston, by letting his clients give up, so he kept pushing and pushing and pushing, until boyfriend and I managed to push out some push-ups, sit-ups, lunges, jumps, jumping-jacks, pull-ups, more squats, kicks, and he even got me to do some rowing on that little row machine thingy. Of course, by time we got to that part, my leg bones and muscles had disinegrated into dust, leaving me unable to do much. We won't talk about the part where boyfriend had to run outside to throw up because he worked himself out a little too hard. Well, maybe it wasn't the workout, but the fact that boyfriend and I are the laziest bums to ever roam the earth and neither of us have even bothered to think about exercise in at least 2 years. We get tired and winded just watching people run. Needless to say, we are, what doctors call, "a wee-bit out of shape."

Did I mention that we only did the "warm-up?"

Today, I have 0% use of my legs. I can't even step on and off the curb.

We go back on Monday.

Labels: Let's get physical

Even as I write this, I'm mad at him. Of course, it's for something petty and insignificant, but still, I pouted at him this morning as he dropped me off at work. And even though I was being a brat, he and I both know that I'll be over it by lunch time, and gushing over him through text messages...telling him that I love him forever and ever and ever. And of course, I know that he'll send the same text messages right back to me.

At work, during my lunch break, I'll tell all of my girlfriends how silly he is...about the stupid things that he does, or says...about his irresponsibility.... And yet, they all know that these things, are the things that make me love him. They know that I love his silliness, the stupid things that he does and says. That all of these things make me laugh, not at him, but with him. And they know that even though I pretend to be mad at him, and that I pout at him in the mornings when he's dropping me off at work, that I love him with my whole heart and can't wait for work to be over so that I can go home and be in his arms.

And everyday, I wonder how it is, that I became lucky enough to find love. Not just once...but twice.

Labels: Guy #6