not quite forlorn

Hmm. Apparently I was sounding a little bit on the forlorn site from my last entry. Alas, the situation is not destitute of hope. I do not feel spurned by dear Cupid. At least not much anyway.

I spent the day doing odds and ends. Went to the grocery store for the first time in seriously 3 months. (And I've still got the old milk in my fridge to prove it!) And mental note to myself: NEVER go to a Wal-mart on a Sunday afternoon. Fat women with their 30 children roam that store like buffalo on the open prarie. And they block then entire damn aisle. And not only that, but the cashier, LaQwanda, felt the need to comment on every item in my basket -- particularly the Country Crock Mac 'n' Cheese. "Oh, who new Country Crock made mac 'n' cheese!? Is it good? We was just talking about some mac 'n'cheese, wern't we girl? I love me some mac 'n' cheese!" You go, girl. Makes me want to go pick up some monostat 7 or some Magnum condoms to see what sort of response I'd get then. Maybe buy those alone, with a can of crisco. Bet you'd get some questions then.

I talked to Brad briefly this morning. He is now officially dating Ryan. And I'm so happy for him. I know there were a lost of hesitation, but I think Ryan's a good guy with a heart o' gold. So that was good to hear.

And then I was online doing some work on RMG when my dutch boyfriend, Ron, immed me. I missed Ron. We don't get to talk that often -- but wow, can he make my heart go all aflutter. He yelled at me for posting that other pic of him becuase it was two years old. So he linked me another one to show instead.

And how he made my day:

Him:I really want you one thing to know.
Me: what's that?
Him: that if I lived in the States, I would be standing on the beach, in front of friends and family, look at you, tell you that I love you.
Him: really.

Such an amazing guy. He's teaching me dutch, bit by bit. And now he's become mijn vriendje. We'll planning on him coming here late April, so we can both save money. Can't wait. April can't come soon enough.

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