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8hyenasThis is going to get slightly embarrassing, at least I am comforted by the fact that no one is on lj any longer (yay?). It is also long, and sort of therapy.
So about five years ago one of my mother's friends volunteered her son to do some labor for my mom. He was recently returned to the area due to Trouble in the Big City. I watched him out the window and thought he was pretty. But also covered in jailhouse tattoos with some unfortunate associations (thank you Oz). So I stayed in the house. Then I went back to college.
I saw him off and on for the next three years. We talked a little bit and I thought he was alright.
I moved home after university, then my dad died and left me his house. So it became permanent. The house needed a lot of work and he was there to help me. I felt safe with him, and he had a nice girlfriend whom I also liked. So he was there, a lot. And because he was in a relationship I felt much better about talking to him. And we got a lot closer. Then she left him (only partially due to me, but NOTHING HAPPENED!).
Then he got arrested.
Then the judge threw it out and he didn't go to prison.
So I threw a party, we all got super-duper drunk. Then he accidentally told me he loved me. We each had a panic attack. And I had to dial-a-friend. There was intense cuddling. (Seriously, I'm a prude, it was cuddling.) The next morning was the most awful thing in the entire world and we got drunk again at 9:00 a.m. in order to deal with it.
The next two months were hellish. There was a fight every weekend. Big fights, where the neighbors came over to check that I was alright. And they live a quarter mile away. Social issues, my militant feminism, his militant Latino maleism, drugs, violence, lack of papers, and his dog. All contentious.
It got better. It got great. It's fantastic. I am totally, ridiculously, in love with this inappropriate man. I am in love. I am in first love. Just like the movies. I no longer wish to shoot couples who hold hands in public. And I cry happy tears during rom-coms. We walk the dog. He takes out the trash and mows the yard. He talks to the chickens. He tells me when the violent bits in nature films are over so I can look again. He teaches me to shoot guns and hit people. I am astounded daily by the strength it took him to become the man he is. And I am selfishly relieved that I'm not too damaged to fall in love. Have I mentioned how wonderful it is? Yes. I'm that annoying friend. But seriously, it's FANTASTIC.
So about five years ago one of my mother's friends volunteered her son to do some labor for my mom. He was recently returned to the area due to Trouble in the Big City. I watched him out the window and thought he was pretty. But also covered in jailhouse tattoos with some unfortunate associations (thank you Oz). So I stayed in the house. Then I went back to college.
I saw him off and on for the next three years. We talked a little bit and I thought he was alright.
I moved home after university, then my dad died and left me his house. So it became permanent. The house needed a lot of work and he was there to help me. I felt safe with him, and he had a nice girlfriend whom I also liked. So he was there, a lot. And because he was in a relationship I felt much better about talking to him. And we got a lot closer. Then she left him (only partially due to me, but NOTHING HAPPENED!).
Then he got arrested.
Then the judge threw it out and he didn't go to prison.
So I threw a party, we all got super-duper drunk. Then he accidentally told me he loved me. We each had a panic attack. And I had to dial-a-friend. There was intense cuddling. (Seriously, I'm a prude, it was cuddling.) The next morning was the most awful thing in the entire world and we got drunk again at 9:00 a.m. in order to deal with it.
The next two months were hellish. There was a fight every weekend. Big fights, where the neighbors came over to check that I was alright. And they live a quarter mile away. Social issues, my militant feminism, his militant Latino maleism, drugs, violence, lack of papers, and his dog. All contentious.
It got better. It got great. It's fantastic. I am totally, ridiculously, in love with this inappropriate man. I am in love. I am in first love. Just like the movies. I no longer wish to shoot couples who hold hands in public. And I cry happy tears during rom-coms. We walk the dog. He takes out the trash and mows the yard. He talks to the chickens. He tells me when the violent bits in nature films are over so I can look again. He teaches me to shoot guns and hit people. I am astounded daily by the strength it took him to become the man he is. And I am selfishly relieved that I'm not too damaged to fall in love. Have I mentioned how wonderful it is? Yes. I'm that annoying friend. But seriously, it's FANTASTIC.
