My mom has the baby. Last night, while Nekos was at the football game, I got a latte, got my bangs trimmed, got a Lincoln Park After Dark pedicure, spent a luxurious amount of time in an aisle of CVS considering which face wash to buy and which teeth whitening strips.
Then I met a girlfriend at Rumours for red wine. She's six months into a relationship and thrilled that her feelings for her boyfriend aren't dulling. They have baby names picked out and the floor plan for a house. Being with him is just as comfortable as being alone. She says she's the girl who cried love but this time she really means it.
She asked about me and Nekos. Eight years into the relationship, and now with a kid, how's it all going? Thankfully, better than ever. We want to frame a picture of John Lennon and Yoko Ono and hang it over our bed: Hair Peace. Bed Peace. I'm pretty sure John cheated on Yoko towards the end, but we're overlooking that.
When my phone rings and I look down at it and see "Nekos Barnes," I still feel 19. I'm still the girl who worked the front counter at the Knoxville deli and fell in love with the cook in the back. There's no one else.
In Henry and June, Anaïs Nin says, "There are two ways to reach me: by way of kisses or by way of the imagination. But there is a hierarchy: the kisses alone don't work."
Things are never boring with Nekos. That acronym ROTFL? I really do that in real life. Lie on my kitchen floor and laugh.
When I got home last night, I noticed Nekos had left his wedding ring on our desk. He always forgets his ring. It makes his finger itch.
|eight years ago|
|Earlier this week. I took pictures of him before he left for work because I thought he looked so fly.|