Catharsis...

Luke threw Jess in the lake as catharsis. Or so Jess told Rory. CMM says that OTH is a way of therapy. And I am trying to find a way to do this exact thing. So I am going to write something again. As catharsis..... or therapy.

You know how everyone has this love story, that wasn´t really quite love but it is a story. I guess I should have titled this blog something along the lines of About a boy, that might just be the title for what I am going to write. Who knows! I am sure of one thing, it will have nothing to do with the Hugh Grant movie.

I met this boy when I was 16. And I fell in love with him, or as much as you can fall in love with a guy when you are dating someone else, and have been dating him for a while.... or maybe I was trying to get over from a horrible break up when my boyfriend had cheated on me with the one girl he swore he had nothing to do and wanted nothing to do with. I don´t know, I guess it was a little bit of both. So anyway, this boy was in my class. I guess that I don´t need to say anything more that the fact that the guy was Italian. Tall, dark and handsome. Think of Under the Tuscan Sun with dirty blond hair. Maybe it might be a slight exageration, but the boy was gorgeous.

I had seen him around in school. He actually went out with a girl I didn´t find all that interesting and extremely annoying. But when we met, I don´t know exactly what happened if I was dating someone else or he was. The thing is that I think that we liked each other instantly. There was this amazing chemistry that I hadn´t experienced with anyone else before.... or even after. We started talking, he switched seats so he could seat behind me, we hung out. We spent 7 hours in school every day... and after school we would call each other on the phone at least three times...... four if it was a wednesday, because of The Wayans Brothers (remember that TV show, I guess was one of the firsts from the WB) and we used to watch that show together.......... over the phone. lol.

Nothing really happened while we were in high school. After graduation, that´s another story. He called me up one day after it had been at least two months since I had broken up with my boyfriend (yes, we dated other people, never each other, and we always ended up right where we started.... no where!) He had broken up with his girlfriend a few days after I broke up with my bf, and of course rumors started. That we had broken up with our "significant others" because we wanted to date each other. Gossip, what can I tell you. But it proved to be true..... to some extension.

When he called me that day I was surprised. Really. I hadn´t heard from him in so long..... you know how two months can be when you´re 17. He called me and asked me if I was doing anything that night (it was a friday) and I said no. So he asked me out. And we went out. It wasn´t the best date ever. Turns out this kid that he was somewhat of a "godfather" to, had gone out with his friends had many drinks to many and his friends were freaking out. So we had to cut our date short and go look for the kid to drop him off at his house, and explain to the kid´s mom what we thought might had happened. So after that we went for a drive. We drove across the city (which is not that big) twice. When he was going to drop me off at my house he asked me, "Mare, how come nothing ever happened between us?" And I was shocked! I mean the only reason that we never did date while we were in school was because he never asked and I was to chicken to ask myself. So I told him that. And then he asked me if I wanted to give it a try. Hell yeah!!! Of course my answer wasn´t as eager as the one in my head. We kissed for the first time that night. 2+ years after we met.

Eight years have gone by since that day. More or less. And nothing ever did happen. I mean, we went out on dates... but never really dated. We would kiss, but he wasn´t really my boyfriend. Did I love him? I never stayed with him long enough to find out. I dated other people, and he dated a lot of other people. He´s still dating someone else... I, on the other hand, am not. Do I miss him? I don´t really know. Maybe I do sometimes, when I remember something we did or something he did. I guess that I will always miss him. He was the guy who taught me how women feel when they are wanted. He will always be a great mistery to me.

Once, a friend from school told me that he never heard him talk about a girl the way he talked about me. That he wouldn´t let anyone talk ill about me, because he would get really pissed off. That he would always get very deffensive if someone said that I was pretty or hot or whatever term guys use to talk about girls. I would always kid with him and told him that he was behaving like some kind of dog pissing around a tree. He would laugh and never deny the fact that he didn´t like other guys around me.

Now, at this time in life, I guess it´s not as fun to think that a person was acting that way towards you. I always hated possesiveness and jealousy, but with him...... I think I never really cared if it was him. I would get pissed off if one of my boyfriends behaved as if I was some kind of property to them or as if they owned me, but with him it was always different. It never felt that way. It should have, but it never did.

I actually "broke it off", and I use the term losely, a couple of years ago. I had met this wonderful guy that was actually interested in dating me for more than once a month or whenever he felt like it. This new guy would call me, and ask me out, send or gave me flowers. And he was great. So I decided that I needed to brake it off. Start over with someone else. It was one of the hardest things I ever did.

I remember that at the time I was also planning on moving to the US for my MBA, so I told him that we had reached a point in which we had to end whatever it was that was between us. That I wanted to move. And that I wanted to start over... without him. He would stare at me as if he didn´t understand what I was saying to him or as if he knew that it was "this again" and I would forget it soon enough and everything would go back to "normal". But "normal" had never been normal. And that time it was trully over. He left. He got in his car and left.

Then he drove back and kissed me one last time.

I saw him last, last year in November. Nothing happened. I guess this time it was trully over.

So I will write about this. A fic. Trory. The one thing I want to accomplish? My catharsis. I guess I really want two things out of it. My catharsis, and make those of you who know, what part is part of the fic and what part really happened. Anyone want to beta something like this? lol.

Turning 50....

My dad is turning 50! Not yet though.... April, next year. But he is soooooooo incredibly excited about it. He's on a diet, and working out, because he wants to look grrrreat when the big 5-0 hits him.

My dad is the best, so's my mom. Our story should be written in a book really. We are actually Nicaraguan, but in '79 when the whole sandinista thing happened we had to fly. I mean, literally. My mom took me (I was 45 days old) and we moved to Guatemala. But we didn't know where my dad was, because he had been sent on some kind of mission. A bunch of women did the same thing as my mom, but others were lucky enough to leave together with their whole family. Three days later, my mom got this call that they knew where my father was and they were going to send for him. And they did. One week after my mom and I fled we got reunited with my dad. Other women weren't that lucky. My mom was 22, my dad 24.

But we had nothing. Do you remember in GG, when Jess goes to look for his dad and his dad says something along the lines of I got nothing... and then Jess gets pissed and says "you've got nothing.... I'VE GOT NOTHING!", well we were Jess. We had no house, no clothes, no cars, no bed, nothing! We had to start from scratch... or more like, my parents got to start from scratch and carry me with them. But God never left us. A few days after my dad got here, he found a job. Which was a blessing!

My mom got a job too, as a live-in maid sort of. And those people let the three of us stay there. A few months later, we were able to afford to move out to our own apartment. I was probably 7-months-old.

Life started treating us better, and better. God gave us amazing oportunities. Then we got my brother. And that was so great. My brother was born in December, and I was sent to school in January (the school year in Guatemala is from January to October, with a week off during March and two weeks during June). When I went to school I already knew the alphabet, how to write my whole name, the numbers up till 20, and I kind of knew how to read.

I have the greatest parents in the world. Do you know why? I never felt that I had nothing. I felt that I had everything I ever wanted. The only bad thing about it was that I didn't get to see my dad as often as every girl does. My dad's a pilot. He adores his job. It's the job that has supported his family for so long. But at the beginning, this first job my dad got kept him out of the country for almost three weeks a month. But the days he spent with us were always amazing. We had fun. We would play baseball, or run around, or wake up at 4 in the morning and start watching Disney Channel, and then get up and do a stack of pancakes "a la Donald Duck". My dad has always made the most perfect pancakes.

Since we left Nicaragua and moved here, it's been 25 years. That's how old I am. And life has treated us so well. My dad has an amazing job. They put my brother and me through college. My mom doesn't work. He bought his dream car.... and then he bought one for my mom. Same brand, except my mom's is more suited for a mom. My brother and I have everything we need and more.

And now, he's turning 50. There was a point in his life that he thought that he just might not make it. That things were so heavy and so overwhelming that he wouldn't be able to get through them. But he always has had my mom. She supported him, when he thought that he might crumble. And she never let him. And we never did.

For his 50th birthday, he's not planning a big bash. He's not planning on getting a new car to celebrate his half a century. He's planning on a trip. For all of us. We're not going to Europe, since apparently I'm heading that way next year in September. But we are going to New York (and I Loooooooove NY), Chicago and Washington DC. Three of his most favorite cities in the US. Although, I think that NY is in the plan more on my account than his. I turn 26 exactly 10 days after he turns 50. And my mom turns 48, six days after my birthday. And mother's day is the day before my mom's birthday.

When I told him, "Daddy, why don't you take a trip just you and my mom?" he told me that he wouldn't have made it to 50 without thinking of us.

So I'm going to celebrate my father's 50th birthday! My dad is turning 50!