And so life goes on

... In the best way possible.

I found several of my spiral notebooks the other night while looking through my things. They chronicle my search for love, beginning with a tall, nerdy man I met online whom just happened to go to the same small high school.

I made an account on okcupid.com on my twentieth birthday. I was tired of being alone. Not long after, I met someone that was a brother of a guy I had graduated with. I put all sorts of hopes and dreams into him, but to no avail.

He lead me on until he found something better. Not on purpose. He wasn't intentionally a jerk. He was just an idiot. There's lots of men like that. It's no surprise I ran into one right off the boat.

There was never even so much as a kiss. He hugged me once. And introduced me to several good bands and firefly. AND doctor horrible's sing along blog. So he served several good purposes.

After that came goth guy.

And then "good" guy.

And then goth guy again.

We know how that all went. Gad, men.

It was so weird to see them, all the stories with my hopes and dreams and different guys' names printed all over them. And there wasn't a single page about the most important one.

Music man is my world.

I accidentally moved in with him. I kept staying the night so I'd bring clothes and things. And then eventually I just stopped going home. I think that's as natural as it gets. And now we're going to make it official. We're going to rent a condo.

A place of our own where I don't have to share him with his room mates and I can keep a clean kitchen, and we can choose the furniture. And there's no toddler. And there's no tiny, yappy dog. And the irritating room mate that drinks too much won't talk his head off the minute he gets home. I'll kill it. Er. I'll move out. Into a condo all our own. yeahhh.

My parents are buying a condo. They're gonna rent it out to us. The living room is big enough to put a billiards table in. Aw, hell yeah. We gotta buy us a billiards table.