I don't just mean in a naughty-spank-me way.
I mean I seem to have missed out on some of the girly genes which most of the girls I know seem to have.
I mean the genes that make them keep a tidy beautifully decorated home, keep up with fashion trends, or remember significant dates.
I keep track of two types of dates: the "yay, time to buy tampons" and the "uh-oh, it should be time to buy tampons".
I'm not one of those girls who remembers the date of "our first kiss", "our first movie", "our first sleepover", etc.
Last week when Butterfly Boy asked me if I could take Monday (the 28th) off work I gave him a look of contempt.
What nerve, I thought, to ask me to take the day off to go gallivanting around with him just because he has Mondays off...and then it began to dawn on me that it was around summertime last year when we'd first met and that the second or third time we'd gone out was for his birthday, which was coming up again in about a week or so...Oh!
He'd been looking at me with a coy little grin on his face, waiting for recognition to sink in. He told me he wanted to take me on a little moonlight sailing cruise, the jerk.
"Our anniversary?" I felt like an ass.
I don't celebrate a lot of relationship anniversaries, if you hadn't guessed. I have a rather short attention span when it comes to romantic and sexual relationships. Some would say I get bored or impatient. I like to think of it as being able to see when things have run their natural course and not dragging things out. And I like variety.
In any case, I haven't celebrated an anniversary with somebody in about 5-6 years. I would have never guessed I'd celebrate one with Butterfly Boy.
He was a one-night stand, or so I thought.
He was playing a series of shows at Dante's last summer and I'd met him during the first show of the series. I found out he played in two other local bands I really like and had been trying to book there. I found it odd that we'd never met before, since I am friends with the singers from both bands. So much for my keen powers of observation!
We'd chatted a bit, but I ended up baby-sitting his very drunk singer that night, almost getting a chopstick in the eye for my trouble. Long story, for another time...
The second time they played, we chatted quite a bit more over drinks. It finally dawned on me that I had noticed him playing with one of those other bands! At a show two years before, a friend and I had watched him on stage and decided he was hot, but the type of guy who never went for girls like us. He seemed very sweet and serious.
But he was certainly showing an interest that night at Dante's!
We made a speedy exit and ended up back at his place.
It was terrible!
Just a drunken, fumbly hook-up before we both finally passed out.
In the morning, I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar room. I started to plan my escape...just as soon as the room stopped spinning.
Oh, this was gonna be awkward!
I wasn't even sure in which neighborhood he lived, or how I was going to get home...and then he was bringing me water and coffee, and being sweet and smart and funny. He even brought me breakfast in bed---eggs with runny yolks. I should have known then and there. I can't eat eggs with runny yolks. But I politely ate around them without saying a word.
We ended up staying in his room until late in the afternoon, redeeming ourselves for the previous night's disaster.
And we've been pretty much inseparable ever since.
The last year has not been all fun and games. I say "pretty much inseparable" because we did experience a rough spot. There was a month's period when I was so angry with him, I truly thought I hated him. I don't suffer neglect or disrespect lightly. A pattern had begun to develop, and I felt I either had to end it, or lose respect for myself, since discussing things was not helping.
That opened a big can of worms.
So, I seethed and hated. Then I began to pine and miss.
Butterfly Boy is the only partner I've had who has truly ever accepted me for who I am, instead of the usual "you're great, but..."
He's never tried to "cure me of the poly", as others have either directly or by quietly hoping they'll be such wonderful boyfriends they'll convince me to forget ever wanting other lovers.
About two months into my relationship with him, I remember having a realization.
A friend had asked me about a year before that, what my ideal guy would be like. He'd laughed at my response, saying it would be impossible for me to find somebody who fit all of my criteria. Suddenly, laying next to my Butterfly Boy, I realized this was that guy, that combination of just the right traits my friend had deemed impossible to find.
A year later we are still challenging each other, learning from each other:
I teach him how to pick up on women, he teaches me how to iron and sew...
Together, we continually explore what it means to be in a completely open, functional relationship (he'd never explored polyamory before). We have a lot of fun, whether it's trying out new rope bondage ties, or cooking, or crafting (though he prefers the more manly term "making stuff"), or just hanging out being dorks. That last is something I really cherish. Beneath the cool, fabulous exterior of the Infamous CoatCheck Girl lies a very dorky silly side which few people ever see. Butterfly Boy, for better or worse, gets the full, glorious, dorky onslaught.
He says I'm giving him laugh lines.
I've noticed a pattern in the duration of my previous relationships. They tend to go in predictable increments. 2 weeks, 2 months, 6 months. If they go past the 6 month mark they usually make it to a year. The two relationships I've had which made it past the year, ended at 18 months. By that count, my dear Butterfly Boy has 6 months.
I have high hopes though. So far, he's managed to break every other relationship pattern I've experienced.
Why not a 2nd anniversary?