A Brief Romantic History

Mr. Kitty

My first love was Mr. Kitty.

Mr. Kitty was a rattle with a plush cat's head on it.  He had no body.  Just a head.  Mr. Kitty may have greatly misinformed my infantile brain about the proper anatomy of living creatures.  Maybe Mr. Kitty is at the root of why I've never been a body girl.  I like faces.

Richard

My second love was Richard.  Richard was the middle-aged man that lived next door with his aging mother.  I followed Richard around like a puppy.   I would just show up in his house, unannounced, and watch him from the hallway until he noticed me and took me home.   One time I stole his cat and kept it in my closet for two days before my parents found it.  I don't know why I did it.  It seemed like a good idea...

Note: I often wonder about how my experience with Mr. Kitty might have influenced my subconscious to want to steal Richard's cat.

Ryan (and french kissing)

Shortly after Richard and just before my 4th birthday, I experienced my first kiss.  Ryan was a full year older than me.  He was the son of my dad's best friend.  Our families went camping at Lake Tahoe together one spring.  Ryan and I were in the middle of playing "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" (I always had to be stupid April because I was a girl - Ryan got to be all the turtles simultaneously) when Ryan suddenly stopped fighting Splinter and said "Do you want to french kiss?"

I didn't know what that was or how it could potentially affect my immediate future, so I said "Okay."

Ryan moved in slowly, hand gently cradling the small of my back, craning his neck to the side and...

...began chewing on my lower lip with ferocity.

It hurt.

I pushed Ryan to the ground, began crying and ran to my mom.

When she asked what happened, I told her that I french kissed Ryan and it hurt.

My poor mother.

Nicholas

After Ryan, I went through a long dry spell before I met Nicholas.  I don't know if I loved Nicholas, but Nicholas was the first guy to ever see my hoohoo.  Not like that...

Nicholas told me that he and his friends played a fun game called "sword fights"where you pee into the toilet at the same time and cross streams.  He asked me if I wanted to sword-fight.  I said "sure."

That day left us both confused.

We went into the bathroom together.  I sat down on the toilet.  He said "no, no, no - we aren't going number two!"

I failed to understand the distinction.

He grabbed me under my armpits and hoisted me off the toilet, moving me aside so that he could show me how to do it right.

I watched Nicholas pee.

I tried to pee like Nicholas.

I made a mess.

Nicholas reprimanded me for "missing the dartboard" (probably a term his mother used).

I cried and ran to my mom, who had to explain the difference between boys and girls and why I wasn't a failure for not being able to pee like Nicholas.

Boyfriend (and others)

After Nicholas, I grew up, dated some dudes and eventually met Boyfriend.

The End.

(I'll post the unabridged version [the one that includes age 6 through Boyfriend] if you guys really want me to, but it's kind of long [not "tramp" long, but "encompassing many years" long) and I didn't want to launch into a soliloquy about my past without warning you or testing the waters to see if that is something you'd be interested in.)

An Open Letter to my Boyfriend, the Serial Killer

Boyfriend;

I have come to the conclusion that you are probably a serial killer.   Or an alien.  Over the 5 years I've been collecting data on you, you have exhibited some strange and alarming behavior, not the least of which is always remembering to put the toilet seat down (except for one time, but we'll get to that later).   I think I now have enough data to prove, without a doubt, that you are up to no good.

Exhibit #1:

You told me I was beautiful this morning.   One might think that kind of behavior is totally normal until you consider that I looked like this this morning:

This is not the first time you've acted like this.  At first, I thought you were just mocking me, but you say these things with such alarming sincerity - with your soulful brown eyes penetrating deep into my soul.  I am thus forced to file your actions under "serial killer behavior" instead.

You also called me beautiful one time when I was crying - there were fluids oozing out of every one of my facial features, I was drooling on you and I was making water buffalo sounds.  Only a serial killer with a secret, murderous plot to protect could have reason to call someone beautiful at a time like that.

 You did it again when I was sick with the flu (FACT: no one is beautiful when they have the flu.  The flu and beauty are so mutually exclusive that you couldn't fit a Venn diagram of them on the same page.)

You said it one time when you weren't even looking at me.   When I asked you "why do you say that?"  You said "because I was thinking about you."  Were you also thinking about how you were going to get rid of my body??  I immediately locked myself in the bathroom to protect myself and also so as not to ruin the image you had of me in your head.   A boyfriend should not make his girlfriend feel like she has to go hide in the bathroom.  It is abusive and wrong.

Exhibit #2:

As you may have surmised from a previous blog entry, I am experiencing "my time of the month."  Normal boyfriends usually leave well-enough alone during this time, but not you.   Yesterday, you bought me Haagen Dazs milk chocolate ice cream bars for no reason.   I interpreted this to mean either a) you are fattening me up so that you can kill me and eat me or b) you are covering something up.   You are probably covering up the fact that you are trying to fatten me up to kill me and eat me.   Was it the fresh blood that awakened your appetite for human flesh?  

Exhibit #3:

Do you even fart???

Exhibit #4:

You say I am perfect.  LIAR!!

I mean, I once went 4 days without showering because I was too lazy to unpack my shampoo.  Is that something that perfect people do?  How about the time I drank too much and threw up on your friend's shoes?  Or the time I....

...LOOKED LIKE THIS:

  Boyfriend, I'm onto your little game.  You could have at least tried to be a little less transparent about it all.   Did you think that I wouldn't notice when you washed all the dishes just because they were dirty?   Did you think that your little "I love your body" charade was going to fool me?  Boyfriend, I don't know if you've noticed, but I have the breasts of a 9-year-old.  Are you a pedophile??  Maybe you were telling the truth but meant "I love your body" in the "your body looks like it would taste like chicken" kind of way.   Either way, I know what you are trying to do.  

If this behavior continues, I may be forced to seek the help of the law in defending myself against you.   

Consider yourself warned.