I know I should probably write Volume II of Adventures with Trixie and Boyfriend 'Bro', but this takes precedence.
I don't understand relationships, and I don't think I ever will. This may be simply because I've never really had one. I might have come close. Once. The more I think about it though, the less I think it counts. It ended in tears, but it didn't take me too long to realize that I was too good for the guy anyway. The yellow belly had to do the heartbreaking online.
So far then, the majority of my experience with being in a couple has been via proxy. My first roommate was in a long term relationship and left to get married. I watched her agonize over whether marriage with this guy was right to making preparations. Given that it's been nearly three months since she moved out and she hasn't sent me an announcement yet... I don't think it happened. I could have told you that though. The long term, long distance thing just said 'stalemate' to me.
Now I'm in the middle of Trixie and Bro. While my previous roommate was fairly intelligent albeit rather zealously devoted to Fox News and Mormon culture, neither of these two seem to have an oxygen atom to split between their skulls. Too many protons I guess.
One of Trixie's early correspondences with me regarded her boyfriend. She seemed to want to clear it with me that her boyfriend would be around a lot. Okay. You're dating, and according to relationship protocol I understand that I can expect to see him once or twice a week. That's fine. I like to have people over once a week or so. No big deal.
Yeah. Right.
Trixie went to California this weekend to attend a wedding. Bro had to stay behind in his crate, and the whole trip lasted approximately 65 hours. Trixie came home at eleven pm on Sunday. Bro arrived at eleven fifteen pm. I'm pretty sure that their reaction was an accurate reenactment of Odysseus' return to Ithaca. After ten years. COME ON, IT WAS ONLY THREE DAYS!!! He stayed all night. He stays every night. He is here all. The. Time. I'm pretty sure I do suffer from severe social anxiety, because just knowing he's here stresses me out to the point of tears.
I don't really get it. Don't they get bored of each other? I may never have had a legitimate relationship, but I'm pretty sure that I would get sick of that person really fast if I saw them more than twice a week and/or talked to them every day. It takes me on average three days to notice that it's been awhile since I've talked to someone, but I don't start missing people until five days after last seeing them. This is usually perfect timing because, particularly with my family, I'm probably going to see them again in the next two days. So... what's wrong with once a week? You'll have a whole week's worth of events to talk about in a few hours and then you're good! Get on with your life and get a flipping hobby! Like photography! Speaking of which...
I also don't understand why people have to have so many pictures of the same things. Yes, photography is a great way to preserve memories, but firstly: what is wrong with your brain? Secondly: Who else do you really think is going to care to see a picture of your face ten million times? Take a portrait once a year, get some pictures of London to aide your memory in recalling exactly what Trafalgar Square looks like, but really? Do you need more than that?
Trixie LOVES pictures. I was sitting with Krissy on the couch, both of us engrossed in our laptops, when Trixie comes up from her powder puff cave of fluff. She's gone a whole hour with no one to talk to, and you can tell she's going crazy with all the wind blowing through her ears. She sits down on the couch next to Krissy.
"Hey, guys!" she chirps in her falsified feminine whine.
We grunt.
"Oh man, I feel like I should have my laptop," she remarks upon her keen observation that we are both busy. We carry on with our private giggles and seemingly random exclamations while she pulls out her iPhone to entertain herself with her own face.
After a few minutes of this, I say something about eunuchs. I'm pretty sure it came up because of Justin Bieber, and then I quoted something from 'Pirates of the Caribbean', and Krissy and I laugh. Trixie does not react the way she ought to.
"What's a eunuch?"
My goodness, do I really have to explain castration to this girl? People who know nothing about reproductive organs really have no business messing around like she does.
Anyway, somehow she gets the idea that she's now included in the conversation, so she starts changing the subject to something familiar for her like boys. Unfortunately for her, neither Krissy nor I really take petty interests in the opposite sex, so that was shot down fairly quickly. So she brought up her pictures and started showing off a gallery of people whom I could care less about. Krissy is more than falsely enthusiastic, while I completely shut down whenever people start sharing pictures. Trixie calls my attention to these pictures anyway, mostly of bald, underdeveloped people.
For the record, I don't dislike babies. I want some one day, but until I do have them I don't really understand the fascination. I'm just not one to fawn over infants, since they're not exactly interesting to talk to. They mostly look the same anyway. And laugh the same. And wail the same.
I try to smile at each face looking up at me, and I appropriately coo like I've observed in other people. After ten minutes of this, however, I've had enough and I promptly excuse myself for the night.
The next time I see Trixie, she has more pictures for me to look at. They're developed pictures, and she sticks them in my hands to thumb through. I do so politely, but it feels awkward. They're all the same picture. What is this I don't even...
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