Round Two

It is Saturday morning and I am sitting at home, licking my wounds. Not literally, of course, because the wounds happen to be on my insides. Today was IUI Round #2 and boy, it was about as romantic as a root canal. Actually, a root canal hurts less I think. My body wouldn't cooperate today so the doctor had to use a clamp on my cervix. That's right. It is about as painful as it sounds. Ouch.

Whatever humor I found in driving around with sperm, etc., was gone about oh, two seconds into the procedure. Of course, if it worked then it was worth it. If it didn't work... Well, let's not think about that yet.

Note to self: I should have had that cosmo with dinner last night. Darn. I could really use one right now. I am going to spend the rest of the day on the couch and nursing Drew, who is also sick as a puppy.

On a different note... I wrote this piece on The Nervous Breakdown last week and I've been getting some interesting feedback about it. I do appreciate all the comments, but on the other hand it feels like the comments are evaluating the relationship I wrote about. I know it's not really true. But when someone writes that they would love to read more about it, or that the story left them dangling, I feel like saying "well, welcome to my world." I sure would have liked to know more and I was left dangling too.

I am not bitter, or anything. It all happened a lifetime ago and a continent away.

My brother said that he is jealous that I had this big love in my life that is worthy of writing about. True, but what does that say about all the other loves - including the current one - that I don't write about? Why is it harder to write about something that is quiet and constant and safe? Drew read the piece too and he said that he loved me and my "dark, dark past." Snort. Never thought of myself as someone with a past, but I guess I do have one.

Love in six words

I found this great article in The Washington Post today. I am not really into Valentine's Day - although this year I did get Drew a gift - but I found the challenge of distilling the story of a relationship into six words interesting.

Right away, I came up with this:

I hated you. You knew better.

I really did hate Drew when I first met him - and I don't use the word "hate" lightly. He was SO annoying. Arrogant. Cocky. Smartass. He is still all of those things, but also many, many other, good, kind, gentle things.

I also thought of: I am still not sure. Are you?

Ok, that's seven words. When we first started dating and things were getting serious, we would lay awake at night and ask each other: Are we doing the right thing? It's sort of become a joke between us since then -- we ask that every time we make a big decision. Drew's answer is always a sort of inpatient "yes, of course we are doing the right thing." But I am never that sure about anything. Not about getting married, or moving, or taking a new job, or buying a house, or picking a paint color. It's comforting that he is sure -- it somehow makes it OK for me not to be.

Come to think of it "are we doing the right thing" is six words. So there.