Breathalizer.

Notice the time stamp? I'm starting this at 3:27 am.

I'm not drunk.

Maybe a tiny buzz. But not drunk.

I got off work from the Brouhaha and met Momma at our neighborhood bar. She was hammered. I didn't know it, but I got to be baby-sitter. I quickly erased that thought from my mind because on hundreds of occasssions, Momma has sat there patiently (and probably a little too sober for her own sanity) and listened to my man/neuroses problems. So Kharma decided tonight was my turn. I was happy to do it. Seriously. That wasn't a joke.

After I let her vent for almost an hour (in verbal circles, I might add...) she said, "Tell me about you. I haven't hung out with you in so long and I miss you!"

I went into a very abridged version of the latest in the Rover/Grace Saga (there was a major advancement last night).

He and I have been on and off for over six months, but we've kept each other at arms reach... not too close, not too far away. That way, nobody gets hurt. But everyone gets laid. Perfect arrangement, I think. But at Christmas time, he said he got me a present. I have been very very very broke the past few months, and nobody got presents from me this year. I told him that "no, I didn't want a gift." Which is true. I will never accept anything from anyone without giving something in return. I hate being in debt.

So for the past few weeks, Rover has forgotten to give me this present he kept talking of. I've been really eager to find out what it was--not for material value, but wondering what the emotional value was behind it.

Last night, we had a Hockey All Star Game party at his house. When I walked in, he handed me the tardy Christmas gift. From the shape, I could tell it was a CD. To many people, that would seem like a shitty gift, but not to me.... music and books are the best things a person could get me. Ninety percent of all gifts that I give (that have an emotional meaning) are either music or books. He got me music. That meant something. Didn't it?

But wait! There's more....

A card. Simple. Understated. But it held just enough words to fuck with my mind for days.

"I thought you'd love this. Love, Rover."

Love.

What the fuck does that mean??? I think it's sad that four little letters can send my mind into a crazed tailspin. Fuck.

(The CD, by the way, was fabulous. An obscure Swedish folk-pop singer with a band by the name of "El Perro del Mar". He was right. I do love it.)

Back to tonight.... I'm with Momma. And I bring up Rover. Brave of me, since she snarls at the mention of his name. Literally snarls. She's so over protective of me, she snarls! I start telling her about the gift, and as I pull out the card to show her what it could or could not mean, she swallows her pride and says, "You heart him, don't you?"

"Yes. I think I do heart him," I finally admit. Then ask, "Do you think he hearts me back?"

She took me by surprise when she answered, "Yes. I think you two would actually be great together if you both would just put your pride away and stop being afraid of whatever the fuck you both are afraid of. He does heart you. But you both are fucking scared of broken hearts. That's silly. Just swallow your pride and tell him that you heart him. Now I'm done talking."

I'm not quite sure if she was insanely drunk or insanely (and briefly) lucid when she said that, but I think she actually might be on to something.

In the next few days, I think I just might tell Rover that I DO want to be with him. For so long, I've been so afraid of getting my heart broken (Hey, thanks Doughboy!!!), that I've done everything in my power to not let Rover get into my heart. But we would be so good together...

I spent the night at his house yesterday, and we fell asleep... and woke up... in each others arms. Why are we so afraid to admit that there just might be something there???