"Hamburger Helper? Really? That's what you want for dinner? Okay." This being the third time I would ever cook for him,(the first two had been strictly vegetarian meals) I set forth to prepare the most delicious hamburger helper lasagne dinner ever made. If that is indeed possible. The fact notwithstanding, that I am a vegetarian and the prospect of actually smelling burning flesh was not particularly appealing to me mind you, nor was the fact that I would be the one to scorch the dead cow flesh to begin with, but I remembered how I liked to have it done pre vegetarian days and counted upon those memories to guide me. Olive oil, fresh garlic, onion, mmm. Gulp. Sear the flesh, ugh. Make sure it is good and brown, heave. Tear all the clumps apart, argh. Thyme, basil, pepper, salt. Add milk and the "seasoning packet"(which as we all know is the very essence of the lasagne helper) gag. Bring to a boil, lower heat, add pasta, cover, and simmer, whew! Mix up the cheese substitute powder with some more milk to form a white, grainy, liquidy substance called the topping, blagh. I also added mozzarella on top because I would have tossed my cookies if I had to watch him eat that gooey, gunky mess. Voila, instant murder mystery dinner! Luckily for me I also roasted some garlic, sauteed some yellow, orange, and green peppers and a little onion and broccoli, to top our baked potatos. We added sour cream, and nutty crunchy salad toppings. I must say, I do believe he actually enjoyed the meal, and the company. Unbelievably, after the ordeal of being the one to prepare a meal which required me to manipulate decaying bovine, I still had an appetite. Hmm, must be love.

I have a thing for really bad astrology. It has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. The first time I ever read my Horoscope was probabaly at one of our family breakfasts on a Sunday. After Church, we would have a huge breakfast at my grandmother's house. Somtimes Grandma Noire's sometimes Gramdma Blanche's. We would all just help ourselves to whatever grandma had prepared for us. And usually one of the grown ups would have purchased the Sunday paper. In the afternoon when everyone was done with it, I would read the comics, what the celebrities were up to, what movies were new, and the horoscopes. Sometimes they would apply to whatever little girl drama I had going on at the time, mostly not. These days though, I have traded my morning paper for the internet news, and have my horoscope e mailed to me daily. Somehow today's seems to fit. It reads as follows. Catarina, here is your horoscope for May 27th 2004: Mixed signals? Oh, you bet. Whether you're on the giving or receiving end, you'd better think twice before you get involved in the game. It's for keeps. Well, for one I had no idea I was playing a game. But for lack of a better word to describe love, I suppose the word game works just fine for now. The game huh? I remember playing a game of cards the other night and I was thoroughly disappointed! Or maybe they are talking about a basketball game? Whatever they meant, the horoscopes advice seems to fit wherever I want to apply it. As far as mixed signals go, well that is a strategy used by an opponent to "psyche" you out. Or is it the truth about everyone in general, you know the duality of man and all? And I guess they are advising the genral public of the sign of Cancer on this day to "think twice" about getting involved. Hmmm, prudent? or perhaps just a good practice for normal thinking people. I suppose there is something about a complete stranger giving a selected group of people advice as if they would never have thought of it otherwise, that is just plain fun. Because my dear, when you think about it, baseball, Love, War, they are all for keeps aren't they?

Regardless of everything I have done in the last couple of weeks. From being understanding, to crying in despair. To wanting to leave him, and him asking me for another chance. To being seperated for four days. All the questioning, and the deep conversations. From him almost breaking up with me...again, to me giving us a "break". Back to being understanding, and forgiving him (even though he wouldn't have told me anything about what she propositioned him unless I had beat it out of him).To realizing I am really in love with him. To creating a personal card just for him, and even leaving him alone sometimes, not even asking him anything. It seems that he is still going to deny , no wait, not even deny, he is just not going to share whatever conversations he may have with whatshername, or the letter he was supposed to write to her regarding the situation. He hasn't said anything about cancelling that damned dating service he subscribed to before meeting me, and he is still up in the air about what he is going to do when he graduates. But I do get alot of lip service. Like about how he is going to see if there is a dojo here in town where he can do martial arts...after he graduates of course. Or how he will be applying around town. How the chances of him staying have increased. What am I supposed to think here? But he did give me the opportunity to back out of moving in with him today. My deadline is actually 5:00 pm today. So he has gotten all the sex a man can handle, and all my love. My heart, my affection and adoration. He has gotten a hot, sexy, nympho-like girlfriend, who is fun, and loves him...and what do I get? Confusion, doubt, anxiety, stress, depression, moments of feeling like Cat on a hot tin roof and more confusion. Okay, okay. I may be the cause of some of the doubt, and stress, but that is all I will admit to. And I know I have a hot boyfriend too.(Well I think so) and his gentle nature kills me everytime. I know he loves me, but I am just left wondering. If he really wanted me to move in, why so many opportunities to not do it. Why so many twists in the road? One day I am told this is the last opportunity, and then I am told that Monday is my deadline. Then I am told on Monday "Oh thanks for the application, but we don't need it, but you can still move in." Now it is down to the last few hours, and he offers me the opportunity to "back out now or forever hold your peace". I mean talk about stretching it out! Okay now that I have gone on my little rant, The reason he gave for talking to me about it is this...he said he knew I had doubts about it before so he just wanted to make sure I really wanted to do this. I asked him if he really wanted to do this. His answer: "Sure". Not "yes" Or "absolutely" just "Sure". He thought it would be fun at least 50 percent of the time and the rest of the time may be hell. I am not so sure if he is sure, which in turn makes me little less sure of the situation myself. But I do know that he is cleaning his apartment as I write this, and that can't be bad.

And although I ponder, and pontificate, and ponder some more. I always come back to this, I love him. I love him more than I have loved in quite some time. I didn't belive that I was capable any longer, but knowing him has made me believe it! I believe that this is the love of my life and I have only but to give it a chance. Which is what I am going to do right now. I feel so wonderful now as if I could fly! Of course I will still have my questions, but I do not doubt his committment to me, to us, to the logevity of this relationship any longer. I do not doubt his love for me, or his will to be happy. I will hold on loosely, but won't let go. How can I, knowing that he is quite possibly the one? I love how he makes me feel when we are together. How he holds me. The way he kisses me oh so gently, drives me wild. I love his warm skin on mine. The way he feels inside me. When he touches me. I love that he says some of the dumbest things when we are in bed together. I love that he only wishes to make me laugh. But I know when he uses a certain tone, that he really means what is saying. I love the way he has to taste stuff before he will eat it. I love that he has a strong desire to be near his family. I love that he wants to be with me for the long haul. I love the way he proved that to me. I love the way he gracefully stumbles over things sometimes especially when he is trying to be smooth. I love that he loves what he does. I love his voice, the soft way that he speaks to me. I love his body. And yes I even love his mind, as twisted as it may be at times. I love that he understands me, when I really need him to. I love that he has a soul, and I can see it. I love that he will do anything he can to make sure I am happy, even if it takes him a while to figure it out. I love that he wants to please me in bed. And I love that he doesn't have any desire to hurt me. I love him! Now all I have to do is stop being such a bitch all the time.