Thanks, Betsy, I'm doing okay. I was really dreading telling everyone that I had happily made announcements to, but all that talking really helped me make my own peace.

DH is my best friend, but I'll be damned if I can tell which came first, the love or the like.

Owen must NEVER know this.

And he never will...until he does a google/deja search on his name...

I had a denim jacket in the '80s, back when I had my motorcycle learner's permit. (Never actually got the license.) Now my attitude is that denim is nice, but leather is better.

Also, the thought of driving a motorcycle in Chicago scares me. Maybe it's because I've met two people who had nasty motorcycle accidents.

What juliana said about the jacket.

tommy, leather is better for motorcycles! My brother had a leather jacket I would borrow all the time. It was so perfectly worn in because he had had three minor accidents in it so it was scuffed and comfy. It was stolen in a bar a few years later. We both still mourn its loss.

Oh, Gud. I'm sorry to hear that. I'm wishing all the best for you and your family.

I have to have both love and friendship for a relationship to last.

Oh, this is what I need in a relationship, as well. But I just can't imagine it all integrated into one person who loves me, is attracted to me, and LIKES me.* For want of a better term, my partner in crime, if that makes any sense.

But then, I didn't have the healthiest parental models of relationships. Not that that should be the sole source of relationship models, but still. I think I was imprinted at an early age that There Is Love, and There Is Friendship, and Never Shall the Twain Meet.

*(I don't mean this in the sense that *I'm* unlikeable -- not at all; I'm VERY likeable -- but more in the sense that I just don't get how those things can co-exist in one relationship. No need to reassure me that I'm likeable.)

Y'all are going really fast this morning. I have craploads to do, but am stuck until boss gets off the phone.

(((Gud)))

I'm sure I've told the story of me and Mr. H a billion and five times, so to sum up- friends for years, roomates, sleepingtogetherdatingengaged, married. I still like him. Even when I'm pissed at him, I think he's a great guy. I just think he's being a dick at the moment. I can tell I like him because (and I was just thinking this last night) when he screws up really badly, even if it screws me up, I feel bad for him. I hurt for him. I don't want to yell at him. I want to hug him. Just thinking about that look on his face makes me cringe.

FE and I went backwards, sleeping together, friends, dating, hating each other and back to friends, which is nice.

In fact of all the people I've ever dated/slept with, the only one's I'm still close to are ones I've been friends with at some point before or during the relationship.

I can tell I like him because (and I was just thinking this last night) when he screws up really badly, even if it screws me up, I feel bad for him. I hurt for him. I don't want to yell at him. I want to hug him. Just thinking about that look on his face makes me cringe.

Yep. Know that feeling.

This does not compute. You grew up in Michigan. In at least part of the 80's. And you never had a jean jacket?!?? Wha???

Let em rephrase. I did have a jean jacket - I REFUSED to wear it. It wasn't like the ones that everyone else had and it was butt-ugly. I hated it. So, then I decided that it was a thing and I would never own one - I was once threatened with deportation out of California for not owning a jean jacket and not eating sushi.

I flunked out of the entire West Coast for failing to like sushi, espresso-based coffee, and bicycling. It was sad. Now all I have left is an expired tourist visa.

{{{Gud and family}}}

Yay, Nora! Home ownership is the bestest :)

Juliana's photos are gorgeous.

Not married (cause it ain't legal) but I fell hard for my GF within a couple of days of meeting her. I was living with a BF at the time. Hilarity ensued - not. Anyway, we're total best friends and have been together for 10 years.

Also my throat and ears still hurt like a motherfucker.