Transplanted Life
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Well, that's not very ladylike
Is there anything more embarassing than having someone buy you a nice dinner and then throwing it up six hours later? It just seems rude, somehow, but at least it was after he was sleeping and I managed to book it to the bathroom in time. Still, I mean, ugh. That stuff should have been more digested after six hours.

It passed quickly enough, though, and I found myself wide awake in someone else's home and not feeling frisky at all. I spent some time cleaning up the bathroom, first; by the time I was done there was no sign I'd been gross in there. That still left me uncomfortably awake, though. I didn't exactly still feel bad afterward, but figured it would be better not to crawl back into bed with Chet, just in case I wasn't so quick to the bathroom next time. I went back into the bedroom just long enough to grab a nightshirt out of Chet's bottom drawer, and settled in on the couch for some late night Sci-Fi channel reruns.

Which is where Chet's roommate found me the next morning; I must not have been as wide-awake as I thought. He seemed like a nice guy, made a note when I told him what Chinese place we'd been to last night and how it had come back to haunt me, and gave me a blanket to wrap around myself. I feel really bad about not remembering his name. He also walked me to the T stop after I got dressed and said he'd explain to Chet.

So, I stayed in through most of this rainy day, draining the Replay of its stored entertainment and hoping that last night was just bad seafood. I'm really pathetic when I'm feeling under the weather, like the guy side of the infamous "moms suck it up, men become little babies" sitcom cliché. I'm not proud, but there it is. I think it's also because I'm still afraid that illness means more than physical discomfort, but that something has gone wrong. Like, hey Marti, didn't you know you were allergic to that? It's still not out of the realm of possibility; I'm very hesitant to try new things because of it. Or, hey Marti, don't you know that condoms and the pill aren't enough to be really sure?

I'm pretty sure that's not the problem, at least - I just had my period last week, and if you can get morning sickness an hour and a half after conception, that's news to me. Still, I'll pick up a pregnancy test at the drugstore tomorrow when I get the Sunday paper.

Now I think I'll hit the sack early. I'm just worn out.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005
T minus 18 days
Knocked off work early yesterday to meet up with Jen, Kate, and the other bridesmaids for the last fitting before Jen's wedding. And, I must say, Jen looks GORGEOUS. As I said when she asked what I thought, I was torn between wanting to marry her myself and wishing I'd said yes to Doug back in October, even though it probably would have been a bad idea, just to have one of my own. I haven't gone all girly-girly or anything, but the idea of looking that awesome is sort of overwhelming.

I think I might be starting to "get" this whole wedding thing. Sure, there's a big part of me that basically believes it's a scam. But even if I don't have the childhood conditioning that says, basically, that one's wedding is the culmination of the first twenty-odd years of one's life, I'm having fun with this in ways other than it being cool to see Jen so happy, excited, and, yeah, nervous. The idea of being that important to somebody and making sure that everyone knows it is kind of overpowering.

I still think it should be a little more even - it should mean as much to the man, so why is he wearing the same sort of rented pants he'd wear to any formal occasion instead of a one-use-only garment, and why doesn't he wear an overpriced carbon crystal marking him as taken? - but that's quibbling, I guess. If Kate's down with all the pieces of the ritual that seem to indicate possession and subservience, then I guess I can be too.


PS - Speaking of stuff "real girls" know from childhood and I don't: Jen's sister had me absolutely convinced that I had my stockings on the wrong feet when I tried my dress on. Oh, sure, she said, normally they're interchageable, but for special formal occasions, there are left and right stockings. Kate, Jen, et al thought it was hilarious.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Going out
Been a busy week; I went to my first Red Sox game of the season back on Tuesday. It was a nice night, and we had pretty good seats. Apparently, that's how it's working this year - it's very difficult to get tickets in advance, but the team frees some decent tickets up just a few days in advance. That's the way it is when your team's the World Champions and plays in a tiny, tiny ballpark - demand is ridiculously high, and this must be stuff that was reserved for VIPs but didn't get used. Says something that they were saving seats for VIPs in the grandstand, behind home plate or no.

Still, those were $45 tickets Chet got for us, and a cool surprise when he called me at work. We had fun even though the Sox lost the game. We stopped in the souvenir shop afterward, and I asked how he thought one of those pink tees would look on me. He said it was kind of girly, and I told him that was the point, both in terms of the team marketing itself more to women and my being one. Because you do want me to be a woman when we get back to your place, right?

He hemmed and hawed, so I smiled and told him I was just messing with him, that pink really isn't my thing. Then I asked if I had the smile down, the disarmingly cute one that always reduced me to jelly when a girl pulled it out. He said he wasn't quite jelly, but certainly a gelatinous substance of some kind.

He got me a red one, with Bellhorn's name and number on the back (OK, it's an odd choise, but I figure that the stoned serial-killer looking guy is never appreciated enough), which was good because I didn't have time to get home and change the next morning.

The rest of the week was a case of not much happening while still being incredibly busy. My life was pretty calm, but with just a couple weeks until Jen's wedding, I get sucked into that. Maureen's gotten herself an idea about finding a new place to live when our lease runs out, so we looked at a couple places but didn't find anything we liked as much as where we are now that would save us any money, so THERE'S a waste of time. Ate a good chunk of rainy Saturday, it did.

Today was cool, though - met Chet to see a movie. He was kind of surprised when I showed up to the Fenway theater sweating. I haven't gotten around to buying my T pass for May yet, so I walked for twenty minutes or so to get there. It's silly, I know, but I don't like buying both passes and tokens in a month if at all possible. And it was supposed to be a nicer day than it was yesterday.

We saw The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which was geeky fun. I remember picking up my first paperback copy of the book back in junior high, and that copy had a "Soon to be a Major Motion Picture" sticker on it. Twenty years ago; it took a while. It's really not much like what I imagined the movie would be like, but I think that's a good thing. The Tolkien geeks got all excited about how Lord of the Rings was "perfect", but I liked the liberties taken here (some by Adams in his drafts of the screenplay), so I could be surprised and see someone else's take on the material.

So, anyway, as it ended, I'm spewing all this, and Chet stops me, like, wait, when did you first read these books? And I say I'm not sure, fifth or sixth grade, soemthing like that. No, he says, what year? Oh, uh, that would be about 1985 or so. I'd actually first heard about the Infocom text adventure in Compute! or Antic or some similar defunct magazine, but that led to the books pretty quickly...

He stops that tangent with a "just how old are you?" I tell him it's impolite to ask a woman that, but hey, fair question, though the answer's not so simple. As far as medical doctors are concerned, I'm twenty-six, although I've got the life-experience fo a thirty-one year-old. But, put them together, and I'll be celebrating my second birthday in July. So, I joke, maybe you shouldn't be buying me drinks...

He doesn't quite catch the joke, because apparently the idea that I am, by some measurement, older than him. Apparently, he thought I was younger than twenty-six, even, because I do OK keeping myself in shape (mostly good genes) and because I sometimes act like I'm still seventeen and new at everything (kind of a mixed compliment).

I don't see what the big deal is, it's not like it's a Moore/Kutcher age difference unless you look at us as twenty-seven and two. But he says he's never been the junior partner in a relationship before, and isn't it kind of strange for me? I can't say I've honestly given in much thought. Sure, I mostly dated girls my age or a couple years younger, but age is the least weird factor for me right now.

He went along with that, but I think he was hoping for me to think it was weird, too.


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