Friday, October 26, 2007

Proceeding With Caution

Some relationships just feel temporary, they come with a "Best if sold by..." date. In relationships like those, you start thinking things like "when we break up, I am totally stealing that DVD" and "the next person I date won't inhale his food like he's afraid it's gonna run off the plate." I like to believe I've denounced my title as the Summer Fling Queen but the only reason I acquired such a title is because I am unable to tell the difference between the temporary and the permanent. I have problems with depth perception. I was once so enthralled in a summer fling that I got engaged to the poor guy and, needless to say, it proved to be of a semi-permanent nature and I grew up enough to realise I was too young for the commitment.


But this thing that I'm in now, this relationship, if you will, doesn't feel that way. There is, however, an approaching deadline. My Australian visa expires in mid-March and then it's back to the good ol' U.S. of A. for this Californian. In the meantime, I feel myself growing attached. He's showing me that I can trust the opposite sex again. He believes our relationship can be beneficial to my healing and says that wherever our relationship and my coping overlap, he wants to provide extra support and care in those places. How can I not feel myself growing close to him while he's stitching up my torn heart with such respect and thoughtfulness?


"We're like a carton of milk, our relationship is. And we're trying to drink every drop before it spoils," I told him once. He laughed at my musings and agreed, calling me insightful.




"So you're definitely going to break up once you leave?" a workmate asked me. We were talking about our beaus whilst standing in the sunlit beer garden at the pub where I'm employed, stacking dirty pint glasses in metal racks to be washed and polished.

I wedged the last glass into the rack and sighed, "Yeah, well, I guess we'd have to, huh?"

"You don't have to do anything," she asserted and I thought: Isn't that just like a 20-something?

To live day-to-day, moment to moment, with a subconscious disregard to the future, is the essence of youth. Sometimes, however, I am a very elderly twenty-three year old and find myself tip-toeing through this relationship out of fear of the inevitable trip to the international airport. I've got a little more than five months to get caught up in this romance and I plan on being very efficient with my time.

What happens if I love him? If we love each other? What then? Well, what wouldn't I do for love?

A long-distance relationship is one thing, an inter-continental relationship is something else and neither of the two have reliable track records. And who knows how long this will even last? The mid-twenties is a state of flux and though we crave each other now, those feelings may grow cold by the end of summer as emotions often do. Well, if that were the case, then I suppose my departure would come just in time. But what if the exact opposite happens and we become a unit, an "Us" and a "We"? Then at least things would end on a positive note and if he were ever in the States, he could definitely look me up.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Friendship, or lack thereof.

The Boyfriend (yeah it's official, it's actually a cute story, I'll write it at the end of this blog entry) has been out of town for a week-long series of work-related conferences and I'm bored. I mean really bored. I've been working tons of hours and I've even managed to finish the first half of my thesis while he's been away... So now what?

I was walking home from work today when I realised that I don't have very many friends. I'm kind of a loner. The Pizza Guy (who will hereforth be known as 'The Boyfriend') has tons of friends and a few really good ones and with me being, well, friendless, I quickly latched onto his friends like they were my own. We have group outings and dinners, it's lovely to be in a crowd sometimes. Then The Boyfriend says,

"So, Porsch, you've met all my friends now. When am I gonna meet yours?"

Hmmm, I think to myself. I dunno when, Darling, but if I make some, you'll be the first to know.

I recently got an email from the managers of the student housing complex I live in. It seems there are some major shin-digs coming up, an "American Style" Halloween party and an End of Semester bash. Everyone who lives in the Student Village is invited to attend and bring people with them. The End of Semester Bash is supposed to be a blow-out as it is every year. It's a shirt-signing theme where everyone brings an old white t-shirt and a marker and they get their friends to sign it like a yearbook. It's supposed to commemorate the friends you've made whilst living in student housing.
But I haven't made any friends.
Not really. And I don't know anyone's name, other than my neighbour's. Maybe I can just buy a white t-shirt and write notes all over it in different handwriting and show up to the party like the most popular girl at the disco. Is that lame? I'm twenty-three and considering forging friendships.

Let's take a step back here. People love me. I'm fun and generous, considerate and sweet, easy-going and all-around lovely. My workmates and I get on so well, we all hug and kiss hello and goodbye. We laugh and high-five when it's necessary. We all sit back and have a few drinks after work, it's good. But those are workmates, not friends. Not people you choose to be around, people you go out of your way to enjoy the company of, people you call when you feel like crap or when you feel like celebrating.

Back in The States, I have AMAZING friends. I honestly couldn't ask for a more loving, sincere, and wonderful group of friends. But I'm not in The States. I've been here in Australia for over a year and still don't have a solid group of girlfriends... and it sucks. What do you think? How do I go about making friends with people, or turning the acquaintances I have into real friendships?

***********


The Pizza Guy picked me up for breakfast one Sunday morning (which actually happened to be his 24th birthday). We went to a cafe and had our usual breakfast.
His: 2 scrambled eggs, buttered toast and sautéed mushrooms.
Mine: 2 poached eggs (must be runny or I will send them back, much to his embarrassment), grilled tomato and dry toast.
Then he told me he had plans for us after breakfast, but first he needed to know something. He pulled a note from his pocket and reached across the table and handed it to me. The note contained the sweetest poem filled with inside jokes exclusive to the two of us. The last line asked me to officially become his girlfriend. It was just pure, corny sweetness. I loved it.

Prior to that, I'd been saying how I'd like to get my nose repierced. I had to take the piercing out last summer because of my last job but where I'm currently employed allows piercing and visible tattoos.

I said yes. I was tired of the in-between stage we were in. Our relationship had been exclusive since we'd met and we weren't fooling anyone with the whole, "No, we're not together, we're just seeing each other" thing.

We kissed, got into his car and he started driving toward the city. He pulled into a parking lot adjacent to a tattoo and piercing parlour.
"You ready?" he asked excitedly.
I smiled, a bit unsure of what was going on.
We left his car, he grabbed my hand, and we entered the parlour. We met the sweet girl at the front counter, face bedazzled with piercings.

"We have a 12:30 appointment for Porscha," he said confidently.

Awww, I thought. He's put so much thought into this.

The pierced girl looked at her clipboard and then returned her eyes to mine with a smile, "Alright, Porscha. We're piercing your nose today."

So now my nose has been repierced for about a week and a half which is exactly how long I've been in this official relationship. Isn't that cute?

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

The Pizza Guy: a love-life update

"Hi! I'm really hungry right now and I don't know what to get. It can't be like a sit-down kind of thing because I'm here with friends and they're all standing around and drinking."

"Alright," I thought for a moment while glancing around me. I saw the swirl of laughing faces and heard the clang and twinkle as yet another highball glass hit the concrete and shattered. "Uhhh, why don't you get a pizza? What do you like?"

"I dunno, what's good?"

This guy is attractive but I honestly don't have time to step away from working and chat about pizza toppings. The table over in the corner is waving at me to come take their order for another round of shots. My arms are full of glasses, plates and a half-eaten bowl of chips.

"The artichoke pizza is to die for," I reply.

"Yeah? What's babaganoush?"

My sister and I had this exact same discussion a few weeks ago which is the only reason I know the answer. "It's an eggplant dip. There's only a little bit on the pizza."

"Oh, I'm kind of a carnivore though sooo...."

"Oh alright, try the pepperoni with bacon and mushroom."

"That sounds perfect."

So, after that rivetting conversation I took his money, sent in the order, and gave him a lanyard with a number on it.
"Make sure you wear this so the waitress bringing out the pizza will be able to spot you, okay?"

"Will you bring it out to me?" he asked.

"Um, I'm really busy right now. We'll see."

"Alright," he said hopefully, crossing his fingers.

******Cut to Present Tense******


The Pizza Guy and I have been hanging out for about three weeks now and we're both really happy. We're not anything official, however we do officially enjoy each other's company. The way we're going about things is really interesting. We don't set plans for the future. Instead, we say,

"So... in December, if we're still hanging out, it would be cool to hit up Rottnest Island." (note: summer lasts from November till Febuary here.)

But things are good, really good.

Is it all happening a bit soon, though? It's been about a month and a half since my trauma, which I told him about. It was a really difficult conversation, I must say.

"Uhhhh... the reason I don't want to go to that restaurant is because I, ummm, used to work there."

"Okay. What happened? Did you leave on bad terms with your bosses or something?"

"No. Alright, I wasn't sure of whether or not to tell you this but I guess it's a good thing for you to know if we continue to see each other..."

"Okay..." his voice sounded hesitant, worried. We were on the phone discussing our plans for dinner that coming Friday evening. He mentioned a place he wanted to take me in Subiaco but hadn't said the name of the restaurant. Because I'm so paranoid, I managed to jump to the idea that he would want to take me to where I used to work, where I met my rapists. I freaked out, my mind raced with the idea of my rapist taking our orders and serving our drinks. That's when I realised I had to say something, not just because I didn't want to go there but because I felt like it would explain a lot of my strange hesitations and hangups.

"A little less than a month ago, I was raped."

He exhaled the breath he'd held whilst I tiptoed through that last sentence. The sound he made showed shock and sympathy. A perfect response. We talked through it, he asked me questions, asked if there was anything he could or shouldn't do to help, asked how I was healing.

Since then he has been proving himself as trustworthy and kind. It's really something.

So this Sunday is my noble Pizza Guy's 24th and I really want to get him something special (but not too over-the-top, it's only been about three weeks or so) and I have no idea of what to get him. What do you think? He's smart, getting his Master's degree, loves basketball, is Christian, has a great job... goodness, he sounds pretty lovely. What do you get the guy who has it all?

Been a while

Hey Beauties,
I know it's been a stretch since I've written and I've got tons of stories stored up but just no time to write them out so give me a few more days.
Expect an interesting story regarding my waxing and waning love life, my experiences in healing and all things new.
Love You,
Porsch