08.05.04 11:21 am

yesterday afternoon we were discussing places to eat dinner.

neither of us had a real hankering for anything in particular, so he threw out: italian, mexican, american. as if that represented the realm.

i threw back: thai, chinese, japanese, indian, vietnamese, south african, irish...

ok ok, indian it is, he says.

at raja's, by his apartment, he told me he'd never had indian food before. the restaurant used to be a dairy queen, and when raja moved in he had frowned upon it.

he said, this is really good. i'm surprised. you're opening my eyes. i love that you do that.

back at his place, he took out a bag from bath & body works filled with cucumber-melon soaps and creams and bubble bath, told me this was my night to relax, and went to the bathroom to start the bath, light candles and turn on the classical station. and then he closed the door leaving me alone to marinate.

he gives me bouquets of roses though he's not made of money. he cooks dinner, prepares leftovers for my lunch, takes out my trash, installs a new showerhead in my bathroom.

we laugh together over the stupidest things, play around, argue like crazy about issues, take road trips, rent movies, make love, stay in, go out.

but i can't bring myself to call him my boyfriend.

and the fact that he used to frown on an indian restaurant moving into his neighborhood sticks in my throat enough to make it hard to swallow all that is happening.

it is a symbol, the epitome of our inherent differences.

sigh. don't think, just do.

tonight is first thursday in pioneer square. there is gallery walk with a girlfriend. there is the late night van gogh exhibit @ SAM. there is happy hour. there is good clean diversion.

oh boy how i really don't know how to do this. how to extract myself from the tangle of A. it's going to be a horrificly painfully sloppy big mess.

hands on ears.

lalalalalalalalalalala