74 posts later.

It was 74 posts ago when I slipped in this little nugget: "I also met a gay, who was in my friend Amelia's class."

That night, we had a date. I didn't tell you that. It's wasn't until 7 weeks later when I mentioned him again. That was a wonderful 7 weeks. Just under a month later, he made another appearance. He called me from his ship. This fellow was really special to me. If you read the emails he sent from sea, or heard our calls, you would think he felt the same way.

He came home unexpectantly early in September. That was wonderful. We had time for our relationship to blossom. To grow. We spent a lot of time together. Back while he was gone, I made what I thought was an insignificant observation: I hate being vulnerable.

You know what? I really do. My lovelife has been entirely retarded (Suzanne: I mean that in the technical definition of the word, not the too-common insult that flows from my pie hole) because I hate the idea of being weak. With this boy, I let it happen. I surrendered.

Shit, 74 posts later and I learned my lesson. I got dumped last week. Sorry for waiting a week to tell you. I alluded to it a little. It was a crumby week. I let you guys know that, too. The boy is/was wonderful. He was perfect for the time in my life and getting over him won't be easy. But it won't be ugly, either. I am beginning to reconcile how it all went down. It was a total shock to me -- and most everyone that knows us. But I know he didn't want to hurt me. That's probably why he let if linger so long, making it only that more painful. The lesson to be learned is to always be honest no matter how bad you think it will be.

I have thought over and over again this week about the little lessons from childhood that shape these very adult moments. I remember getting scolded for telling a lie. Mom would scream in her shrill but loving way, that the lie doesn't matter. It's the ability to lie that scares her. If I could tell her a little, meaningless lie, than I could tell her a devastating one.

The boy lied to me for a couple of months because he didn't want to hurt me. Because he really wanted to give it a chance. (And honestly, I think because his own personal well-being -- read "job" -- was tied to our relationship.) Everyday, he was telling little lies. About how he felt for me. About how "hot" I was. About "our future." He was lying because he wanted it to work. I believe that. But, where could the relationship go if it was full of these little lies? A house of cards. He should have opened up early and maybe things could have been worked out. He could have demonstrated a propensity for the truth, and any future relied on the truth. Now, there's not much future.

I think we'll stay friends, though. He's a neat guy and with time, wounds heal. (I'm not a diabetic afterall.) There's definately someone out there for me. Hopefully someone better. Maybe even a lot better.

What do I have to show for it? Well. I have 74 posts. Some happy and funny. Some angst-filled. A few are rageful. I have a lot of memories. Some are fun. Some still make me want to cry. That day of the phone call. That was big. Almost as big as last Tuesday. He's not the last.

I've scrolled through the blog since I met him. How has my life changed? I don't drink Tanner's coffee anymore and have returned to the Coffee Bean. I've certified nearly 40 divers and truly loved every class. I have a new roommate and lost a bosslady. I came out to last people in my life I haven't confronted. I aged with friends. I've made some new ones. Lost some old ones. Lost some hair (it's growing back). I discovered the meaning of life.

Oh. And Lance Bass is gay. Damn. It's been a crazy five months.

PS: Yes, this means I'm single. Accepting applications with 3 references and a credit check.