A little sugar crazy

I had an amazing weekend. And I learned a lot about myself, Doodle, and the relationship.

An entire weekend of just us (and a little of his brother and parents). I had been looking forward to it all week. No late night bowling, or freezing Mariners games, or crazy family get togethers. Just me and him. So. Very. Excited. I could barely contain myself.

On Friday, I am waiting around for the kid's dad so that I could get this weekend movin'. He actually shows up during the hour he said he would. And Doodle was already off work so I pack my stuff-including dirty laundry-and head over.

We start making dinner together. I love this part of our time together. Anyway, we finish making our Cinqo de Mayo feast and head outside to eat in the sunshine. When we were done, we head inside to watch some TV. He also busts out some ice cream he got just for me. Chocolate ice cream with fudge chunks, fudge ripple and peanut butter cups. Have I mentioned that I REALLY love him???

Saturday morning, he gets up and goes to the store to get some eggs. Of course he cooks me breakfast. When we are done, we get ready to go, tell his lazy ass brother we are headed to the parents house. The boys had to move some furniture-this had been planned most of the week.

We make a pit stop at a new Starbucks. I get a little tingle everytime I see a new one. He knows this so he plays along. Then we head up to the parents and what do we find? No brother. Very likely he fell back asleep. At first, Doodle wouldn't let me help but it is either gonna be me or his mom lifting furniture. And I'm not letting his mom move that big dresser.

3 hours later-after some manly moving and sawing, we finally leave. We get home, have lunch/dinner and he starts baking cookies. I go take a nap. Wake up a couple hours later and we watch the Strong Man competition. He wants to be like those guys some day. You know, the ones lifting 400lb rocks and bench pressing 1008 pounds. I told him that is fine as long as he doesn't get that wierd extra neck thing.

Sunday morning, he makes a quiche. I love him. Then we start looking through all his recipies and I find a couple I want to try for dinner. Since he is out of sugar, we go to the store and I buy the stuff for dinner and he gets the sugar. As we are in the store, I am reminded of how much fun he is. He starts aisle dancing. Comparable to Adorable Gay Friend's cube dancing. But in the grocery store. To Shania Twain. I start walking away, turning all red, when he catches up to me-still dancing-and gives me a hug from behind, telling me I am not getting away that easy. And that the aisle dancing is genetic-his mother does it too. We finish up and head back home.

Then comes the sugar. Not like the kind we bought. But the kind that sometimes makes me a little crazy. Like hysterical laughing for absolutely no reason. And some wierd twitchy foot thing. And me not capable of sitting still. Oh yeah, and I break national speeds records for talking super fast. I could not control myself. Then I had an epiphany.

I was going crazy. Not the commited kind of crazy, but totally and completely stir crazy. I spent an entire weekend with him alone and no contact with the outside world. None of my family, none of my friends, not even my mother. And as much as I love him and love being with him, I need more. I don't want to cut off my friends. I don't want to not have the insanity of my life. I want him to be a part of my insanity, not all of it. I can have both. This idea has never crossed my mind. It has always been the man, or the family/friends. Never both.

But with him, everything is different so it shouldn't be a shock that this is either. I mean, really, who could NOT love a man who aisle dances to Shania Twain. Even if it is a little strange.