Welcome to New England. I've flown 4000 miles and have found myself in Willington, Bedford, and Swansea. 'Cause Americans think Swansea is in England.
I'm currently on Cape Cod staying with friends for 4th July weekend. For those of you living under a rock somewhere this is one of the biggest holiday weekends in the US. The last 24 hours have involved a 5 gallon tub of sex on the beach, 3lbs of bacon, mean girls at 4am and of course fireworks. Including one pyromaniac who decided it would be a brilliant idea to throw a whole rack of firecrackers into a firepit surrounded by people sitting 2ft away from it. I went to get a drink when he grabbed the second pack; it was either that or hit him. In this country when you start a fight you get arrested. People here don't have the british politeness and formality to not involve themselves in a dispute that is nothing to do with them and the one who throws the first or the hardest punches is generally considered the cunt, no matter how much of an arsehole the other one was being. So in order to avoid a premature compulsory return to the UK, I elected to remove myself from the situation. At least all the people I'm with at the moment have learnt quickly that I might be small, but I'm not the one in the room you want to irritate. The big shining 2-tone bruise of Terence's arm from where I bit him whilst just playfighting in a club a week ago might have something to do with that.
We're all off to Provincetown tomorrow for 4th celebrations and the beach. Ptown is basically the gay capital of the north eastern seaboard. To give you an idea of just how idealistic summer vacation spot the cape is, Martha's Vineyard is just down the road. You're never more that 6 miles from the water. There are 500 miles of coastline here. Fire island is between here and New York. And I am basically staying exactly where the fictional town of Capeside, from the epic Dawson's Creek, is supposed to be. It's fucking picture perfect. I'd go crazy if I was here year round of course. But there are worse places to spend a holiday...
I'm getting more soppy. Mostly cause Terence is a complete romantic underneath it all, and keeps telling me stories of things that have happened with his ex. Anniversary scavenger hunts, valentines meals, that sort of stuff. And Terence eats that shit up. And so do I; to a lesser extent, but as I said in the other post, I am definitely a romantic. The little things that I remember that mean so much are so random and inconsquential, but they're my favourite bits of the relationship. That first kiss. Yelling at Chris 'cause I wanted to buy him a chocolate bar and he felt bad about it. The picture on my facebook where he's separated my baked beans from my eggs and bacon using bread crusts cause I don't like the sauce contaminating everything. And it wasn't just that he did that. It's that he didn't roll his eyes, or laugh at me, whether it was an aww you're cute or awww you're hopeless laugh or whatever. He just approached it as a solution to a problem that was upsetting me, did it, and presented it to me with a smile. That's the little thing that made the difference. That made it cute. Just like I love that he'll get out the shower first, and grab me a towel, all whilst letting the least amount of warmth out of the cubicle first, because he knows how cold I get outside of the shower and that I need a towel or I develop near hypothermia. Like Terence managing to find a way to give me a hug and a kiss even when standing in a room of 20 people who can't find out what we mean to each other, just to let me know even though we're just some random friends who met each other for 2 days once as far as the world is concerned, he still cares for me. Little crappy romantic shit that costs virtually nothing really makes me smile.
My stomach is still being crappy, not seriously anymore, it's just giving me cramping pains every evening and night. Terence and I are having so much fun both being crappy medical life fails. His is worse is some ways, mine in others. At least he knows what his problem is, his will just kill him at a relatively early age. I don't think I have that problem at least, but 3 research hospitals couldn't work out what was wrong with me and no diet or course of meds ever had a consistent result. Fun times for all.
My tag is going down a hit though. Everyone's noticed it, and asked about it, and when told, found the concept all of incredibly kinky, incredibly hot, and incredibly adorable. Hehe.
Arguments with the boyfriend are occurring. For all the reasons you'd kind of expect. And I think both of us are sick of it, and both of us have no clue what's going to happen. Because again, referring to my previous post, this kind of state isn't sustainable. But at the same time, it's not like I can stop hurting for 2 other people. As far as I'm concerned, I pretty much know I'm going to fuck it all up. It's just a case of when, how bad, and in which direction(s). It doesn't help that I'm kind of pulling a Joel on this...