-I forgot who said this.....Pogo?

Okay, I know I am a male and thanks to society's excuse of giving us a penis, I am allowed to think with it. However, just this once can I not? Can I walk around and not be directed into glancing at the cute girl walking her dog. Can I not notice, in the gym, the girl talking to me while part of her thong is incredibly visible? Who knew having a cock could cause my mind many incredible issues facing the male society each day!

What am I getting at? I admire my girlfriend, Sara. Got that? I'm saying this in one of the weirdest gooshyness most males try their best to avoid. I, however, am in touch with my feelings as my ex-roommate, Bald-O, cleverly points out. Sara has this tendency to make me want to run into a bathroom, stomp up and down, and then run in circles without toiletpapering myself by accident.

"I'm happy."

I said those words to Sara. They just came out without really thinking about them as I looked into those eyes.

Yeah, I'm sure there are sceptics and such since Sara and I have only been physically around each other for 20 days now. The big 2-0 is a huge step since there was a point in almost all my past relationships where I found myself a bit cynical due to girls that were found to be scheming in some ways that I'd rather not get into. What's past is past and I've learned enough in hopes that I am not doomed to repeat it.

Relationships are work but do not worry for I am not gonna preach. We all know Sara and I have the 2 hour time distance that keeps us from seeing each other as often as we'd like. My thing is that I feel as if I am not worthy of such a great girl.

It was a night I'd never forget due to a little red dress worn by Sara. She, looking completely stunning in this along with fishnet stockings that took my breath away on first sight. Oh, those sexy shoes that matched with a face that went well with a smile meant only devilish delights from Sara. Little vixens can't be wrong.

Me? I felt so bad that I was not prepared to dress up in attending this dinner we had in a nice Italian restaurant. Nowhere in my suitcase was my normal button downed pin-striped shirts I'm accustomed for wearing on a night such as this. It was a black CBGB t-shirt clearly expressing my normal attire for expressing my love of anything out of the ordinary. Sara was absolutely stunning while I was just the frat-boyish doofus in A & F cargos.

It doesn't end there. Oh, aren't you enjoying how much I'm beating myself up over all this? Some people have labeled me as a arrogant jackass from my old diary entries but I am not afraid to tell of my faults, so far only in the style catagory. My belief is that there are bad moments in life that aren't quite up to bitching about. How I feel in that I don't live up to being a great boyfriend warrants an issue.

Now, I enjoyed this fancy Italian restaurant thanks to the actual feel of being in Italy. You could see from the wall's markings in which you'd feel as if you are walking into a road on the way to a winery as a donkey passes you by that you are actually there. If you are confused, I guess we have different images of what passes as Italian but aren't donkeys kind of cool, though.

At some point, my eye went haywire. The contact in this eye made me have to blink constantly due to the irritation. No amount of cold water in the restaurant's bathroom could soothe me. Most of the conversation was about what I was going to do since we had ordered but the pain was beginning to be too much. By the way, I have a very high pain threshhold.

I left Sara in the restaurant for a few minutes as I ran downtown to her apartment to rid my eye of the contact and run right back. Yup, frattish-boy in CBGB shirt and baggy A & F shorts couldn't help thinking about how awful he felt at that point. Romance isn't supposed to have its star crossed lovers leaving while wine is being poured around them.

When I looked in the mirror, my eye was just dripping with wetness. The strain was so much in just keeping my right eye's contact there. Tears formed eventually but stopped once I got the contact out. I still needed a moment to hope that the irritation was only the contact's presence.

Run, Hedgehoggy, run!

So, I ran back to the restaurant as fast as my black Air Jordans could carry me. Sara was sitting there with a book and my embarassment was simpering away. In that red dress, she was still as amazing as ever. No change in lenses could take that away.

First of all, there are rules to being a man. One of them is to never, ever leave a girlfriend completely alone in a restaurant and this was under special romantic scrutiny. The other is that we are never to have a girlfriend, especially in nice shoes, walk through the downtown area alone all while in pursuit to obtain glasses and a contact case while we are in perfectly good shape to do it ourselves. I don't care if there are zombies or serial killers on the prowl. No one or nothing will ruin Sara's dinner all while being dressed up and looking so devilish.

Am I using "devilish" too much? Hot red numbers like what Sara was wearing make me think of that word so easily.

Oh, how I hate myself for feeling as if I'm not good enough for Sara. It's agony because I will go over the littlest things and tend to beat myself up in wishing I had been better. I mean, Sara has brought a whole new world of no drama and opening my eyes a bit more. These aren't sad eyes but more along the lines of hoping I live up to my potential and pleasing her. Wouldn't you do that for someone that makes your heart boom a little harder?

I've never faced the issue of wondering if I live up to being someone special. Does anyone else go through this? I mean, you look at your sweetheart and can't figure out why he/she wants to wake up with you, be with you, or to even touch you. For me, it's causing confusion and looking to the rain outside with eyes lost in the potential morning mist thanks to not seeing myself as much. When did I ever get so lucky with a girl like this?

So, I am back. Yes, from all this, you can tell a part of me is still in Indiana. Let's see...........you can tell I was gone due to fingernail scratches, bite marks, and the sad look as I realize I have to sleep alone tonight. The marks will heal but the images in my head remain.

I will certainly get into all that happened. Sara even gave me permission to tell what happened on the first night I got there. I'm guessing this is the reason I will never be able to look at the corners underneath stairs the same way again.

But right now? I just got caught up on Veronica Mars thanks to my dad taping it for me. What was once a major thought of mine on who the series's main killer was has now gone out the window, leaving me with just as much confusion as started with. Jeez, this show's writers are good........real good. Just how the hell are they going to pull of all this with 3 episodes left and a Hedgehoggy dying for more of my favorite spunky blonde detective that just so happens to spend time making out with the local bad boy, Logan, also a potential killer?

Yes, yes, those wacky dogs of mine were so enthralled with my walking in the door. Little hairy butts wag and wag til they can wag no more. I was on my knees playing with my 5 little Yorkshire Terriers, part of the local neighborhood watch program. The silence in a house is so apparent with me since it gets so loud in this house.

So, I just wanted to give a hoot and a holla' out there that I am not as perfect as I tend to sound in my diary. It's just that I am a boy with an amazing girl whom I adore each day, no matter how many comic books surround our potential dorkiness within. I'm happy.

A special shout-out to Ali for that highly amusing email's subject headline:

"Can you stop having sex for 2 minutes, Mike, and read my email?"

- - 2009-07-07

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