I Just Want You Closer

2:30am, we have got to stop meeting like this.

After Saturday's woe-is-me whine fest (thanks for the comment love, Cara!), I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and got it together. Well, I took a nap and watched the end of "Titanic." God, I love that movie. I actually cried at the end, for like, the second time in my life. It was rather emotional in my room that night, huh? Roommate and Cali Girl swung by and I ended up spending the night over at the BK Lounge, so it was gravy. Then we got up for Easter service--as in, church (I know, right? But come on, it was Resurrection Sunday, people. If not then, when?) at this huge mega-church that holds Easters service at the Georgia Dome. Seriously, like it was the Final Four or something! But I would have drawn the line at Philips Arena. That is just doing too much. I have never seen so much fanfare at a church before, complete with dance teams, speeches...the mom from the tv show "Moesha" was there, and she did this dramatic, motivational monologue where she would randomly sing her words; it was gloriously dramatic so you know I loved it (if you click on the link, the intro was the song that she sang. A lot, right?). However, when the members started doing this hand motion/chant that apparently the church does every week, we were slightly worn out. Top Chef looked around, turned to me and said the best line I'd heard all day: "I feel slightly cult-ish." Hallelujah, amen.

The Boy came to Easter dinner at the BK Lounge. I think I ribbed him a little at first, but I didn't know what else to do. The mature statement, of course, would have been, "I'm really, really happy that you're here. Please sit next to me." But, true to form, as to not let my emotions show, I settled for being slightly difficult. Childish, I know, but we must keep in mind that I have issues and complications, as my father likes to joke. Anyway, after dinner I got myself together and we snuggled up on the couch while everyone watched "Smokin' Aces" (it wasn't bad. We missed the beginning but it was relatively entertaining).

It's so weird to use the word "snuggle" as the verb in a sentence in which "we" (as in, me) is the subject. Lucky does not snuggle. Lucky teases boys out of insecurity and gets sad when she drives them away. Weird as that may be, though, it's even weirder to walk your boy to his car and have him smile, hug you, and whisper, "You weren't being difficult."

This may be okay. More later, when the sun is up. Lately, all I've wanted to do is curl up and sleep, listening to my Chill Mix (Paolo Nutini, Corinne Bailey Rae, Alicia Keys, you know, the smooth stuff). My bed looks quite good right now, so until the sun comes up, cheers.