Cut the Shit

Paul’s Birthday Extravaganza

Paul turned 29 yesterday – yes that’s right – on Valentine’s Day! I always thought that was so cool that he was born on a holiday. Even if it is a fake holiday. But then I also realized that I would never get a proper Valentine’s Day for ME since I would have to take care of him on his special day. Now that we’re on a break, it was easy for me to forget all about the V-Day bullshit and focus completely on him. And might I say, that it was two days of pure awesomeness.

On Monday night, Paul threw himself a “little” bash”. And by “little”, I mean HUGE! There were over 25 people in our apartment, all talking at once and chugging incredibly expensive wine. Everyone was asked to bring something to share and considering that all of Paul’s friends work in the restaurant business, they didn’t chintz out on quality whatsoever.

Someone bought Paul a new bong (which was really a gift for me since I’m the pot king in our household). Someone else bought Tyler a new collar and yet another person brought bottles of Kettle One. My personal favorite was the culinary chef who brought a homemade birthday cake. He was beaming and I was happy to see him feel so appreciated by his friends.

I was absolutely the hostess with the mostess. I ran around and filled drinks, continuously packed up the bong, made 25 new best friends and rescued my dog from being trampled at least a dozen times. I was busy, to say the least. For 3 hours this cocktail party raged and with the music reaching deafening volumes, I decided that it was time for us to go to dinner before the superintendent began pounding on our door. Paul ushered everyone out and on to the street while I stood with my friend Mariah in my living room gaping at the disaster. My white countertops were turned purple by the amount of red wine spillage and even the dog had some sort of shit stuck in his fur. Mariah and I burst out laughing and we ran to catch up with everyone.

At the restaurant, the first guy to sit told the waitress that “we would like to order one of everything on the menu”. When I caught wind of that, I pulled Paul aside and was like “WHAAAA!?” Although there only turned out to be 8 people at dinner (the rest got lost or passed out somewhere in the gutter), the bill was close to $500. I grabbed Mariah and we went to smoke while the rest of them figured out how to divide it up. Ridiculously overboard. But we weren’t asked to chip in, so that made me feel better.

One chick was so drunk, she was GRATING on my nerves. I’m talkin GRATE and I’m talkin ING. After some of the people we were with made fools of themselves due to their intoxication level, I grabbed Mariah and ushered her back to my apartment for some cake. We were having a great time talking and catching up when suddenly phase two of the party happened and the entire group showed back up at my place. Even the wasted girl. I served cake and we sang “Happy Birthday” and Paul smiled from ear to ear. I just loved him so much that night.

After about an hour or so and Mariah making a quick and clever exit, I decided that it was time for people to get kicked out. Most left without a problem as they were so fucked up, they couldn’t even keep their eyes open. But wasted chick was belligerent and pissing me off. I said “Time to go new friend!” She proceeded to pour ANOTHER glass of red wine, take one of my cigarettes and say “I’m gonna drink this here wine and smoke this here cigarette and then we’ll talk about me leaving.”

Now, I’m a very nice guy and I will be as accommodating as I possibly can be in my apartment, but there is a line, that if crossed, brings out the boss in me.

I grabbed my cigarette out of her hand, took the glass of wine away and said “You don’t tell me. I tell you. Time to go.” Wasted chick got a look of shock on her face and said “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” And I said “GET. OUT.” She put on her jacket and said “Can I just smoke the cigarette first?” I said “Absolutely. Here you go”. I then handed her the smoke and then in one fell swoop pushed her out the front door. I locked the door, looked at Paul and we both just started to laugh.

All in all it was a beautiful evening. It made me happy to see Paul having such a wonderful time. It’s rare that he gets to do anything that’s just for him, so it was important to me that he had a beautiful birthday.

We slept in yesterday and then went out to lunch and to see Brokeback Mountain. Of course the movie was fucking flawless, but I didn’t cry at all. And usually I’m a huge crier at movies. But Paul did cry. In fact, I think he’s still crying. The movie touched him deeply and it was very refreshing to see him connect so deeply to a film.

Over the last two days I saw something in Paul that I haven’t seen in a long time. He was genuinely happy and in turn wanted nothing, but for me to be happy. We cuddled a lot last night and I was surprised to realize that having his arms around me felt like home. We may be taking a break at the moment, but there is still this huge part of me that knows our relationship is far from over.

Could this be a new beginning?