caerula's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- someone else's lovelife, for a change The highlight of my day yesterday was talking to Queen V; haven't talked to her in ages between school and Mr. 3rd Date and all, although we've exchanged the occasional email. She phoned around 8 and we talked for two hours or so. V can be very low-key, for all that she is rather high-maintenance; she doesn't get all schmoopy about boys and relationships, didn't even when we were younger, isn't really comfortable spilling details. But I know the past couple of years have been hard for her, watching most of her college friends get married and go on to houses and babies and mortgages and mini-vans. I think she has been a bridesmaid like seven times in the past two years. She is just one of those people who finds it hard to open up, and at the same time she has high standards. This, of course, makes dating rather difficult. So when she hooked up with M3D, I had hopes, but didn't want to get too excited for her. And gradually, she started letting things drop � she's stayed over a couple of times (not for sex, though � she's very Catholic, she doesn't do casual sex and now that she's near 30, she figures there's no point in doing it just for the sake of getting it done � although my understanding is that she defines sex as intercourse, so that leaves a lot of room to play around!) ; he's so sweet to her in the mornings, letting her sleep while he gets ready for work; took her to Pops Goes the Fourth and watched fireworks over the river for Independence Day; recently even took her along with him and a school buddy for a game at Fenway, using the company seats. Well. So last night she tells me she let him borrow her car, and I thought, that's it. She is so totally in love. Now you have to understand the Queen to know how she feels about her car. NO ONE drives her car but her. Even with her in it. We lived together for two years and I never drove her car, although she drove mine several times on road trips. She loves her car. And she lives in fear of something happening to it, as it was once her dad's car and she still has this vague feeling that he'll kill her if anything happens to it, despite the fact that she will be 30 in less than a month and it is her car, and she lives two states away. She made sure, last night, that I knew never to ever mention this to her parents. Of all things. I can see myself, a year or two from now at the Queen's wedding, toasting the couple by saying "I knew Queen V was in love when she let M3D borrow her car." And V screams and faints. Anyway, so I think this is a Very Big Deal. Because the other thing she said to me last night was, "it's so much better than it's ever been." And I said, "well, yeah. That's the way it's supposed to work. If it just got worse and worse, why would we bother?" I know it doesn't always work out like that for people; it may still turn sour on the queen. It's only been six months or so, after all � but this is the longest relationship she's had in, oh, 6 or 7 years, so I do think it bodes well. The guys she dated before � well, this was when we lived in the South, and were dating Southern guys (not that I'm stereotyping, here) � but she and I both needed men who let us do for ourselves. We were uncomfortable with always being under the assumption that the one with the Y chromosome gets to drive, do the heavy lifting, plan the dates. V was there longer than I was, and I think perhaps she was told one to many times that she wouldn't find a guy because she just wasn't girly enough. She was too independent. Too protective of her body and her right to decide what to do with it � which is ridiculous, but she had, in the past, dated two different guys who ended up breaking things off when she wouldn't put out soon enough to please them. Sad that this sort of mindset still even exists. So, well, anyway. I've gotten sort of off track here. But I hope that Mr. 3rd Date is the one, and if he's not, that Queen V gets to be the one to decide that, for once. I hope that I get to dance at her wedding, as she danced at mine. And if he hurts her, I hope I can to fly to Boston and push him into oncoming traffic. 12:20 p.m. - August 22, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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