Love, Not Gas

I'm not really one to write about love (c'mon, I'm not Carrie Bradshaw), yet the other day I began thinking more and more about it. For many people's love stories that I've been told, they are these magical, serendipitous tales that spark out of the rarest circumstances. Sometimes they are classic versions of growing up together and falling madly in love and other times they spark from a thrilling night while traveling abroad; in between the drunk loving and urge of capturing yet another flag, true love emerges from beneath the fermenting bean burrito purchased at the nearby road stand and blossoms. Mine was contrary to all these extravagant (or not) scenarios and honestly, unless it was gut-busting (Almost literally) I would not be divulging such personal tales.

Life has taught me that there are numerous types of love. I mean I love my cats and I love gin on the rocks. I love traveling and I love all things cheese. Only recently did I learn the difference between loving something and being in love with someone, which perhaps is why this story is rightly so funny.

Close to a year and a half ago I was getting ready to graduate college, crunching down for finals, and making plans to move to NYC or even Madagascar. The last thing I was thinking about was starting up a relationship. About the same time, I started "hanging out" with this guy...mostly to kill time. We went out, we had fun, and surprisingly he brought interesting insight and mind provoking ideas to the table. (Considering he's from Texas). Hmm?!?!

So we kept "hanging out..."

He met my friends, opened doors, laughed at my jokes, and even tolerated me when he came encounter with my drunk crossed eyes and slurred speech. Still, as many of my friends will tell you, I was just in it for the time I had left and nothing more. That bastard saw it another way!


**I should probably mention that I'm a bit addicted to risk and a minor thrill seeker. In cohorts with that, this guy and I worked together and he MAY have been my indirect superior... hmm, oh well, we kept it on the DL for the duration of out stint at the college.**

Graduation crept around the corner and I was counting down the days. Things continued with the guy and before I knew it, my family was coming down for the big ceremony. (No, no, not a wedding, fools). I'm a pretty laid back person, especially when it comes to relationships and the likes, but I realized he was going to have to meet The Parents. This brought up many questions of what "we" were and I had a nice and big shit fit. How was I supposed to introduce this kid?!?!

"Hi mom and dad, this is the guy I've been sleeping with for a few months."

I didn't see that going over too well with the parentals. So I boldly informed the guy that I would be introducing him to my family as a boyfriend for fear of the alternative, and if he disagreed, he had the option to cop out of the situation. With surprise to me, he graciously accepted the invitation to meet my parents as The Boyfriend. It was at this point that he informed me I was known to his parents as The Girlfriend. (Did I miss a step, should we have discussed this? Oh well, I was still new to the game, maybe this is how things go).


...Everything went better than smooth. Butter had nothing on this event. Skip forward a few months, things were still going great. I even tell people he's my boyfriend. (Of this statement, all of my friends and basically anyone I know was overjoyed. It is my belief that they all thought I was forever doomed and cursed with the 'commitment phobia' bug). Now, I thought things were going just fine. We were having a good time, he met my friends and family, I was introduced to his fam, he didn't make me vomit...nothing could go wrong.

Murphy's law proves that when things are going great, why not throw in a curve ball and stir some shit up! He dropped the L-Bomb. I saw it coming like a car accident approaching in slow motion; like a card house with one ill conceived move, all to end in the demise of a messy display of hearts, spades, and kings laying lifeless on the table. Oddly for as morose as that sounds, it didn't disturb me that much... I just wasn't quite ready. I managed to squeeze out of that situation with dignity upon replying not with a "thank you," however, with an all presumptuous "I know." Seemed to work for the time being, go figure.

Now, this is where things get uncomfortable. A month or two later he and I went for beers at a favorite Albuquerque bar. We were just hanging out, having a splendid time. Out of nowhere I was hit with a massive rumble in the intestinal region. It was quite possible that I may have an accident in my pantaloons. My palms got sweaty and I remember giggling like a 5th grader at a cute boy. All of a sudden a love song that I appreciated for it's catchy lyrics and popularity made sense. It was like birds and bees actually existed to sing divine love ballads. Was this gas?!?!?!? Perhaps I ate something rotten. At that very moment it was like lightening hit and a energy saving light bulb went off... LOVE. (Really, I was convinced it was gas for a while.)

Naturally, I couldn't let him know this. I'm not cute enough to just blurt out I LOVE YOU and smooch, snuggle, and adopt the actions of cutsie lovey words. So, I kept him in the dark about my feelings. This eventually blows up in my face. Clearly, the story wouldn't be complete sans humiliation of Courtney.

Move up to my vacation in NYC. We are 5 months deep in our relationship. I've left him for a week to the only other thing I have openly declared my love for- New York City and the Yankee game! My gal pal and I settle in with our supporting NY hats and massive beers. The game starts getting intense, the beers kept arriving, and then I got a phone call. I pick up to speak with The Boyfriend for a quick minute and realize a homer is being hit in the stadium. I quickly hang up with him, but not before I drunkenly and accidentally slip in an 'I love you." It actually went more like:

"OH! I gotta go, Iloveyou...AH!" .....dial tone.

I look to my friend who is glaring at me, eyes wide and jaw grazing the floor. With the exchanging of WTF looks, I inform her I am retreating to the facilities, (presumably to vomit) and that we better have more beers when I return. I leave her my purse to pay for the 95 dollar bruskies. Day goes on, The Man and I don't mention a thing, and I think I'm in the clear. Whew, dodged that one... I figured he didn't even hear it, especially since there was no mention of it. (How sweet to think he just didn't want to point out what an obvious fool I had been..... oh yes, that was reserved for later.)

So upon my return, he and I spent a lovely weekend together. I had almost forgotten the Yankee-Game-Incident, when I got a cheery phone call from my friend. Mind you, this is the same friend I attended the Yankee game with and who witnessed my surprising word-vomit incident. We speak for a minute and she tells me to say hi to the BF for her. We hang up and I nonchalantly deliver the message to BF. I tell him more or less, "even thought you don't know her, she says hi..."

(The rest of this will be in conversation form so you can get the equivalent feeling of angst I had at said disturbing moment).

ME- "even thought you don't know her, she says hi..."
BF- "Oh, cool. I've talked to her on the phone though."
ME- "Um......what? When?" (I ask this cheerily)
BF- "When you guys were at the Yankee game"
ME- "WHAT?" (This was more of a panicky tone) "When? I was with her the whole time. I don't remember this."

-- I began wondering. Was I too intoxicated and don't remember handing the phone over for them to say hi?

BF- "Yeah, she called me. I think you were in the bathroom."

-- This is when the gears began turning in my head and I dreaded what was next to come.

ME- "Wha- she called you- bu why- um well what?"
BF- "Yeah, she asked me if I knew what you had just said."

--My face is actually buried in my hands at this point out of sheer embarrassment. To make matters worse, I may have been lacking clothing. (sorry mom and dad).

ME- "Uhh.............."
BF- "Yeah, she said that it was a big deal." All of what he is saying at this point is said with a smirk and a 'haha, 'youthoughtididn'thearyoubutireallydid' tone.

My only response, "Well, uh, I suppose I love you." And to be quite honest, it felt wonderful to say.

BF and I had a laugh and then I phoned my friend to yell and secretly thank her. Who knows if it would have even come out. And now the Sony and Cher songs and Celine Dion outbursts (also knows as songs) make sense.

Please know that I'm not a lovey-dovey person, but my lovers advice would be now to tell people how wonderful it really is. Oh, and if you're not sure, take Gas-X...if that doesn't help, you know it's love!