I'm Marrying a Mouse

When it comes to Valentine's Day, I'm nothing if not practical. I think it's ridiculous that flowers and dinners cost three times as much on February 14th than on any other day and I don't care about celebrating the Hallmark holiday in any sort of fashion. That said, of course it's nice to have some sort of acknowledgment. A flower. A dessert. A card. Something.

We had plans to go to dinner on that Thursday, but canceled them because Matt had to work a little later than expected. So, I made something quick and we stayed in, watching some tv.

After dinner, Matt went to his bag and returned with a smile. He handed me a small plastic bag containing a what looked like an eighth of a chocolate chip cookie and two bite-sized 3 muskateers bars.

"Here, Sweetie, do you want part of a cookie I didn't eat today?" He asked, offering me the bag.

"Uh, thanks? Is this for us to share or for me to have? Cause I'd hate to eat all of this by myself if you want it."

"No, no, you have the cookie--I'd take the 3 muskateers."

I laughed at his gift but thanked him and went into the kitchen for some water.

When I returned, Matt was on the couch, giggling. "I feel like a mouse," he said.

"What? Why are you a mouse?"

"I'm a cartoon mouse! If I was in a cartoon, I would totally go forage for treats and bring them home to you. Here, Sweetie, have a piece of cookie! Have a tiny candy bar!"

He's totally right. He is a cartoon mouse. I'm marrying a mouse.

It's a Small, Gay World

Last week I spent the longest two days of my life at a conference in Denver. While it turned out to be professionally useless, I did make a new friend. Tom was at my lunch table, and over rubbery chicken and over-salted mashed potatos, we learned that not only did we have a mutual acquaintance, but we lived in the same neighborhood and on the same block. We chatted both days of the conference and were surprised to find each other not just on the same plane back to New York, but also in the same row. I love those kind of "small world stories"--how sometimes you have to go to Denver to meet someone who lives a block away.

Anyway, during our cab ride home (sharing a cab! We're so green!) we talked about how we met our respective boyfriends.

"It was on a blind date," Tom sighed, "which made me so nervous because we each had a friend who was like 'I know a gay guy,' but we really clicked and we've been together for over two years."

"Oh God, I know--I hate those kind of set ups," I sympathized.

What is it about people thinking they need to hook up the gay guy they know with someone else just because he's gay? I've had two people try to set me up (pre-Matt) with guys solely because they were Jewish. Being gay or Jewish isn't a personality trait--it's an uncontrollable aspect of how you were born. It's like setting up two people because they're both blonds.