Nothing has changed...

Today marks my one month anniversary with Vicky. One month ago, we met for a two hour date that ended five hours later and where our goodnight kiss sent me wandering the parking lot at The Block. I remember thinking, when I first saw her, "That might be Vicky... nah, she's too good looking." And I remember stumbling and stammering when I found out it was her.

I still stumble and stammer... let's see how we're doing a year from now...

And I can hear what you're saying. "One month, Ken. It's one friggin' month." Ah, but dear friends, it's the best month I've had since I've had months. Big claim? Sure. But I think back on my best months with Rosa and realize that there was always that undercurrent of "What is she going to do next?" running through... which extended after she left me... which I've come to realize is something I'm better off living without. With Vicky, I can exhale. And my best months alone were filled with wonderful things that would have been better had I had someone with whom I could share them. Every day we're together, Vicky and I share our lives more and more.

Oh, sure. This could end in a month. It could end in a week. Our heads could explode. Something tells me, however, that none of those things will happen. Something tells me I'm with Vicky for the long haul.

You know this when you wake up next to someone with a hangover... and you wake up next to someone with a hangover. It was Sunday morning. Vicky had spent the night and far under the hammers that pounded my head into Quaker Instant Oatmeal there was this giggle, a gleeful, little laugh of happiness after so many mornings of waking up alone... I had to shut it up lest it tip the scales of my hangover and I throw up...

We'd started laughing Friday night... right about the time we'd decided to go to Walt's Wharf, after all. New experiences and new memories are great and all - but you try getting reservations at the last minute!

I'd picked her up wearing a tan suit with a blue-ish shirt. (What do I know from colors? I'm a guy!!) Anyway, I was looking nice. I just hoped Vicky thought so. When I saw how she was dressed, though, I quickly forgot about my own ensemble issues. She was dressed in a short black dress with black pearls and these shoes... very sexy shoes... My girlfriend is very beautiful.
It was a good feeling and one I wished had lasted - but as I drove to Seal Beach, the impulse came over me to tap on the steering wheel with the music from the cd. Just as I started to do this, Vicky said in a loud and strident tone, "Don't do that! Don't ever do that! I once dated a guy who -" and her voice dropped into and unearthly tone that echoed the churning bowels of hell bubbling with fire, piss, and 1989 tax returns...

Actually, it was kind of how I felt Sunday morning. But Vicky said, "I think Tim's up. Shouldn't we get dressed?" I struggled into something - someone had switched my arms with my legs - while she got up and dressed. Okay. Her hangover wasn't nearly as bad as mine. Then, Tim came in to watch movie trailers on my PC. All that sound and light and movement...

"That's a very strident tone," I said to Vicky, getting out of my parked car.

"Well, that's how I felt. I don't like that."

It all felt so familiar. Indeed, I'd lived through this with Rosa and with Rosa, I probably replied with something like, "Well, don't give me your shit!" This time, I thought I'd try to be better than that. I said, "I understand that other guy did that but I'm not him. You don't need to be strident with me."

"I know," she said, and took my hand. And so ended our fastest spat to date.

I'd told Vicky there was another restaurant in Seal Beach, a little Italian place, and suggested we might go there for "new memories". We checked it out, looked at the menu posted outside the door. "What do you think," she asked.

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"No. What do you think."

"Look," I said. "I drove. So you decide."...

We'd woken up too late for Sunday Brunch and my hangover wasn't tamed until after noon. Actually, my hangover wouldn't be tamed until after 6pm but, at least, I could get up after noon. But to be quite honest, everything before that is a blur. So, we decide to go to this Mongolian Barbeque place I knew of. Tim and I had gone there. It was, to use the vernacular, "da bomb".

So, we went... and they'd gone out of business so long ago that a new restaurant was already in its place. So, where to go?... Where to go?...

"If it was up to me," Vicky said, "I'd go here."

"Oh."

"What?"

"I was just thinking I'd rather go to Walt's Wharf. I just don't know how much I want to take chances right now."

She smiled and took my hand. "Come on." Within minutes, we had our Walt's Wharf pager ("It'll go off when your table is ready.") and were headed to O'Malley's for a drink. I put the pager in my pocket and we found a seat at the bar. Vicky ordered an apple martini... and the bartender gave her a look that said, "You want what? Lady, does this look like the kind of place where people order apple martinis?" I ordered a Guinness. Thankfully, he made both just fine. So, we talked over the loud bar until, with a buzz and a start and a shock, I leapt from my barstool - "Whoooooo-owie!" - taking the buzzing pager from my pocket. "Our table's ready," I said... covering... and we downed our drinks... a good idea on an empty stomach... in fact, it kind of set the tone for the weekend...

Our favorite Thai restaurant was nearby, Thai Spice, and we decided to go there... despite the fact that I had yet to go completely through the five stages of grief. In fact, I took a wrong turn from denial and grief to Appam, North Dakota, right off Route 50. Maybe that, and Vicky's legs, was what made me forget that spicy Thai food and a hangover don't make for a day in the park... even if you're in the park! All of our stomachs were making the strangest noises, even as we walked to Target. Mine didn't have far to go, though. Stepping inside the store, I said to Tim, "I think I need to -" and ran to the bathroom...

As the waiter walked us to our table, he walked up right past the bathroom. "Better not seat us yet!" I kept thinking. He didn't. We ended up with a nice table, that led to a nice appetizer (seafood wontons!), a nice bottle of Pinot Noir, and a nice dinner. "How's the salmon," I asked the waitress. "Well," she said, "I've tried everything on the menu but I can't eat salmon." Any woman who would eat the calamari cakes with chipolte/mango salsa but not salmon was suspicious... perhaps that's why we both ordered the salmon! It actually turned out to be the best salmon I'd ever tasted, caramelized with mashed potatoes and asparagus... drool...

During dinner, Vicky was talking about her friends. Through the blur of drunken memories, I recall her talking about someone named Tommy, who she said she loved.

"You don't love him as much as you love me, though," I said.

"Oh no." I few seconds later, she caught herself. It was her first slip towards the "L" word.

Okay. So, I'm an evil man.

One dinner and one bottle of Pinot Noir later, I was happily drunk. I suggested walking on the pier (I considered walking home, hoping to sober up by then) but Vicky asked if we could walk on the beach. "I'm wearing a suit," I told her. "Take off your shoes and roll up your cuffs," she replied. Things with her are just too damned easy...

I could barely carry myself around the Target and back to the bathroom several times, seeing the pitying face of Tim and Vicky whenever I returned. We were supposed to pick up a battery for my phone but I couldn't make it any further. "Bring me home," I told Vicky. "I need to go home." Home. You know. To a familiar bathroom. So, she brought me home, and then she offered to pick up the battery for me. "You don't need to do that," I told her. "I know," she replied. She and Tim went and I staggered to my nice, cool, air-conditioned bathroom.

When they returned, I was feeling a little bit better. Vicky walked in with the battery, a battery she'd bought from Staples, not Radio Shack. I remember my brain boiling. "Are you mad, woman?" I thought. "You buy batteries from Radio Shack. You buy staples from Staples!!" But I remained calm. How many times had I blown up at Rosa for not following my rules/orders/directives to the letter. It would help for me to trust Vicky. After all, she's not an idiot... and, anyway, I needed to go to the bathroom again...

It was hard to trust Vicky's idea. If there was one thing of which I was sure it was that going to the beach at night included, indeed REQUIRED, walking on the pier. This whole "walking on the beach" thing seemed far out of synch with any reality I'd ever known. But I rolled up my pant's cuffs and removed my shoes and... we walked.

It wasn't bad.

In fact, it was kind of good.

And as Vicky and I stood on the beach in the moonlight, kissing each other, I realized that I'd stepped in a movie. I told her this - and she agreed - which was right around the time the police drove out and told us, from their loud speaker, that we'd have to get off the beach. By the time we got back to my car, I'd sobered up...

By 6pm, I'd sobered up and Tim had to leave - none too soon as he was tired of watching the lovebird show, I'm sure. Vicky and I moved the party to her place... and I brought the tape for "Dial M for Murder". It was time to start watching the plays. We were entering our fifth week of dating (Sunday was four weeks - Today is a month) and it was time for Vicky to know me for the acting GOD I am... and what better to start with than "Dial M", the shitty, little show in the shitty, little theater with a cast that was, well...

I hate reliving the past. I don't mind viewing it... but reliving it stinks! Saturday morning, Vicky and I went to Costco together. I wasn't a big fan of this idea at the beginning, even as I suggested it! I mean, I knew that it would be nice to shop together but I also knew that I was looking my neurosis square in the face - something I'm not good at! After all, this was the Costco Cindy and I had met at so often, as we tried to pursue a relationship after Rosa and I split. It was doomed, of course - but what better place to bring Vicky that the ruins of the relationship with which I killed my marriage. Let's pile defeat on top of defeat and then throw a fresh corpse on the fire!

As much as my neurosis was telling me thing, I also knew I couldn't avoid every place I'd been with Rosa or Cindy or DeAnna or anyone else. Vicky is just too important to allow that. And, so, we went to Costco...

I prefaced "Dial M" with warnings about possible health affects and flying lack of talent coming off the screen, but she still wanted to see it. Oh, god, was it bad! It took several hours before she stopped vomiting. Her dog watched a few minutes and I had to give the pup mouth-to-mouth! Her paint peeled.

She was still feeling poorly when I left. I told her that if she needed anything, she could call me and I'd bring it to her. And then, she shocked me by giving me her key. Though I was home soon, cleaning and doing ironing, I wasn't there for long. I realized that I didn't want to sleep at home. I wanted to sleep next to Vicky. So, I got in my car and drove back... and let myself in...

There are some things I've always wanted in a relationship. One of those things has been public displays of affection. Rosa hated it if I did more than hold her hand - and she sometimes hated that! Well, I found out at Costco that this wouldn't be any problem with Vicky. She has no problem showing me how she feelings in public or letting me show her. We even started dancing a little in the frozen food aisle. I said to her, "I love you," and she replied, "I do, too."

Later, she said, "I can't believe I said it for the first time in Costco!"

"Well, you didn't really say it. You just agreed." I hated feeling like I'd tricked her into it or something....

Monday morning, we awoke with each other. It felt great. It felt so good, in fact, that we promptly called in to work and said we wouldn't be in. Then, she made me eggs and bacon and pancakes. I guy could get used to this! Then, we snuggled on the sofa and watched TV. She said, "I don't want this to end. I want us to be a couple that always does this." I agreed, of course. It's what I've always wanted...

I dropped her off at her place, helping her in with her purchases from Costco. She had to hurry and get ready, though. She was meeting her folks in Vegas. I said my goodbyes, and we kissed, and she said, "I love you."

My heart leaped.

"Say it again," I said.

"I love you."

Well, there goes my plan for a lifetime of misery!

Soon, I was driving south, flying high... until I hit traffic... it took me four hours to get to San Diego...

Now would be a good time to jump back to Monday - has my lack of continuity given you a headache yet? - but there isn't much to say. We spent the entire day pretty much as any couple, newly in love. I can't tell you anything without running the risk of being indiscrete so I'll just say to hell with discretion and tell you that we pretty much spent the day making love... and, so, back to Saturday...

When I got to Tim's, I found out that Vicky didn't go to Vegas. Her whole reason for going - a $1000 Nordstrom's gift certificate she was going to spend with her mother - could be used at any Nordstrom's. So, she stayed. Tim and I returned promptly - but we didn't skip a trip to DVDPlanet. Just over $100 of DVDs later, we headed home for martinis, smokes, and, yes, Vicky. I had wanted to spend an evening being loud and gross with my best friend; Vicky wanted to see what that entailed. It entailed 12 pitchers of martinis, about a pack of smokes, and a lot of laughs.

It also entailed Vicky saying to Tim that she and I were a team, something I'd always hoped to hear from someone before I suggested it to them. And I made sure she got another martini... so she couldn't drive home...

Monday night (we're in the home stretch now!), I returned to my apartment and got everything ready. Vicky was coming over for dinner and a play. The play was "40 Carats". I told her all about it before it started. I told her about Annie and Lori being the two people who started me writing plays. I told her about what a jerk Steve's become. I even told her about the strange relationship Chris, Sherryl, and I had and how Chris and I conjectured which of us would bed her and even who was right. And we watched the play, eating salad and shrimp cocktail and sourdough bread and balsamic vinegar and olive oil. And then she kissed me and thanked me for sharing all of this with her.

It's been one month. There's a lot more to share. The fun's only starting.

I've been phenomenally fortunate and I don't know why. I do know, however, that this is not something I will take for granted. This relationship, this woman, this love - it's for keeps.