I debated with myself alot today over what to write about. Whether to post about my stress in finding a valentines present for Ken, or how I lost a set of house keys while sitting in a parked car and tore the car apart for 20 minutes only to find that they had slid into a folder that was sitting at my feet, or about how V and I got together 6 years ago and why the relationship ended, or even about how I struggle with my inner pack rat and turned down 4 bags of stuff that was left in one of our rentals. If I wrote about all 4 this would be a 2 hour read, and i'm sure most of ya'll arent' into all that. I'm fairly relaxed at the moment, sitting here listening to the dogs wrestle in the hallway (I hope they don't wake Carl up) and drinking my afternoon glass of sweet tea. Ahh... relaxation.
Oh I suppose I could tell the story of Carl. It's a rather interesting one. Well, only from my viewpoint maybe. We met when we were 18, working at Walmart. I was freshly married (and unbelievably naive), and experiencing the world for the first time. I was rather sheltered as a kid, as much as inflicted as by choice. I was always the kid who would rather stay home with a stack of books than go cruising with friends. I did that too, but it was usually forced upon me. But that was the summer of 1993 (God I feel old). A few months after I started working there, my first husband, C, started there too, and struck up a friendship with Carl, R and Ken. I had formed a friendship with all 3 from day one, but once C got into the mix I wasn't "allowed" to socially interact with them. It wasn't appropriate. All they wanted was to get into my pants. (well, that was partially true it turned out). So this went on for about 4 or 5 years. They were all friends and such and I didn't have much to do with anything. In 1999, C and I split, and R and I started dating. This was shortlived, but led to a wierd friendship. The four of us (R, Carl, Ken and myself) started hanging out as a group. I became one of the guys. And I totally loved it. I had 'my boys', as I called them and it was great. We would all go to the movies, concerts, try different restaurants, go on road trips to California, whatever. During this time Ken and I started dating. When Emily moved out of my house in 2001 I needed a roommate. Ken and I decided that we werent' ready for that yet, so Carl moved in. This created a wierd/perfect relationship. He became more than my friend, he became my brother. When I had a bad day at work or was upset with Ken, he'd comfort me, listen to me bitch and cry, and never judge me. That's one of the things I so love about him. He never judges. He may never forget and will constantly tease me but he never judges. So anyways... time went on, I lost my house, he moved out, Ken and I broke up, I moved in with V, and here we are 6 years later, Ken and I are back together, and Carl is living with me again. And it truly feels like home again. I love it. And altho at times it's rather frustrating living with a boy, (why oh why do I have to be that specific when asking him to do something? Does everyone have to give a detailed list of chores instead of simply saying 'Clean the bathroom?") It has it's perks. He's taller than me so he can reach the top shelf. He plays with the girls so I can be online. He takes out the trash. He loves sushi more than I do so I can usually talk him into paying for my meal too. And there's the added security. Friday we did yoga together, and while that may sound odd, it honestly was like having a girl friend here. Wierd, I know. Oh and my favorite part, and I know his, is the looks we get from people when we say "Oh i'm living with my boyfriends best friend/ I'm living with my best friends girlfriend". I swear it's like the look off of friends when Phoebe says 'i'm having my brothers babies'. Priceless.