Impossible you say? Nothing is impossible when you work for the circus.

So, it would seem that Matt and I are together. For real.

I am equal parts thrilled, terrified, apprehensive, and disgusted. I feel like such a hypocrite because most of my life I have been shitting on love, and the minute the potential for love comes to me, what do I do? I turn into an eternally sappy ball of mush. Its gross. There's sap, and on the whole mushy stuff that makes me want to barf.

I have never welcomed nausea this readily in all my life.

So far, we're perfect.

I think we've both grown up since the last time we dated. I mean, I always (always = since 2005) told myself that I would never date someone twice, or date a drummer, or someone who was born with a 7 letter name that could be shortened to a four letter nickname (ie Anthony to Tony, Gregory to Greg, Michael to Mike, etc). Those rules are based on patterns in my life, and now I am kind of spitting in their face. I'm not sure what this compulsion for rules and order is, but its hard to say if I will keep them all. But I digress. I'm happy, and that's a start.

We build momentum with the fact that he seems more willing to invest himself too. When we last dated, I was just a kid, barely 20, which would put him at 21. Very self-centered ages. We both seem to have grown out of a lot of the dumb shit. He's talked about righting some of the fuckups he's made, not because I ever asked him to, but because it would bring us closer together.

When I was in Chicago, he said to me once, "you seem more like yourself." I keep trying to decipher that and coming up with nothing of substance. I blame philosophy class. I feel like it's profound, but can't tell why.

I love pop music again.

Now Playing: "Creepin Up On You" - Darren Hayes