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I got trampled on the way to the forum.
Saturday, July 14, 2003 @ 11:50 p.m.

Doug said, "Your toga was one of the sharper looking ones there." A comment I can live with and even appreciate.

My Habibi Laughed.

Not the gleeful laugh of amusement and delight at whimsy, but a nervous, embarrassed laugh.

Yes, embarrassed. Of me. In my toga, going to go see 'a funny thing happened on the way to the forum' on DAMNED FUCKING TOGA NIGHT!

He actually had me wait out in the car, for fear that his brother would see me in the toga. I mean I know he's in the closet, and I made a conscious decision when I first met him that if I stayed with him then, I would not have ANY room for complaints about him being in the closet, cause I knew the situation from the beginning of our involvement. I knew the situation and have long since made the decision that THAT is not something I will EVER Have room to complain about, because, well to invoke the cliche I've made my bed and laid in it. AND that is a decision I STILL stand by, but in the future I intend to be pushed under the carpet in a more respected way. I want to be his coconspirator NOT his ' FILTHY GAY PORN MAGS' in his bottom drawer. Does that make since? (Jason, I would particularly appreciate your input on this.)

Anyway, it's just the manner in which I was shunted out the door. My feelings were, (are) hurt. And this is my space to complain about it. I just wish he would have handled it differently. I really don't mind being asked to go wait in the car, I mean I understand and sympathize with his situation, I just wish the manner in which he asked me would have transpired differently.

He could have at least complimented me on my designer Toga later, or my sewing abilities. Rather then ignoring me the rest of the evening, with not even a word said to me while at the play. His body language all but screaming, "I'm not with him!" I even stealthily engineered a seating change during intermission so that I was sitting between him and our friend. He spent the rest of the play in silence, not so much as letting an elbow touch me, his torso leaned decidedly the opposite direction. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. FRICTION.

I mean he DID ask me to hem his jeans the next day after finding out I sew. Really, the nerve! He's left me with jeans to HEM! and hem them I shall, they'll be the shortest damn hotpants he's ever layed eyes on. hahahahahaha. I'm passive agresive, but not THAT passive agresive.;)

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