It has been eight weeks to the day since my fateful first date with Peej went down at the Red Fez, and tomorrow he leaves for a week of fun and sun in California. Without me, of course.

Hmph.

Aside from touring wineries (he's researching starting one of his own in Western Mass) there's been talk of some sort of crunchy coed nudy resort. The most I can hope for now is the least itchy std.

Do I sound cynical? It's the result of my sentimental education.

I myself am actually looking forward to some down-time. I've had enough of this crazy Valley of the Dolls existence of late. Won't anyone ever love me for my body? I mean... my shoes! I mean... my... my mind! I've put a lot of thought—not to mention time and money—into my body and my shoes, dammit! Can't you people see that?

I'm sorry to flip out on you. It's been a little difficult lately, what with Roy The Cat's fits of thigh-rage, and Peej's poker face. I tend to think that people's pets are acting out their keepers' ids. But if Peej wants to climb up my leg and bite my thigh, I'm into that! Go ahead and growl! Claw me, bite me! Treat me like your chew toy! I'll be your scratching post! I'm your personal ball of yarn! You don't need to send Roy!

But you can't tell Peej that. You try to tell him, and he's like, "you're not going to change me."

When he comes out with that line, I'm always like: "Well, first of all, I was talking about the sheets."

But seriously. Why would I want to change you, Peej? That's like a second full-time job, but without pay or benefits or my own desk! Frankly I don't need the extra work.

I want you to want to change for me. And that goes double for Roy.

We'll get there. You'll see the logic of it.

That people, never mind cats, don't change is bordering on a singular obsession with my new squeeze, and I can't say it's not an area of slight contention between us. I agree with Jung: "The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed."

Maybe it's boredom borne of sheer decadence, but I like transformation. How many times can you go to sleep a butterfly only to wake up a worm? That's the big question to which my life is shaping up to be the answer.

I have been nagged by littler questions, too, lately, I'll admit. Peej has started talking about how he'd like to someday move out to the country and wear sweatpants all the time and beads in his beard.

Now, I never pictured myself with anyone long-term who had beads in his beard. Maybe I could get used to it. If only I understood the appeal. Why would you want to have beads in your beard? And why would you tell anyone you wanted beads in your beard? I mean, I think if I wanted to wear beads in my beard I would just show up with beads in my beard one day and hope no one noticed.

It's little things like that that remind me that two months isn't always long enough for that chemical reaction. Especially at room temperature.

As we all learned in Chemistry class:

Two molecules coming together must collide and rearrange their atoms to make product molecules. The intermediate arrangements of atoms may have a high energy, and if so, the reaction will be slow because not all colliding molecules will have enough energy to rearrange properly.

The slow burn of of self-doubt, the stink of suspicion in the test tube.

Finally peering under the microscope: whole scary vistas of an inner universe fully of weird spiky little things open up.

Ah Peej. So careful, and then this: the carelessness of leaving without a goodbye kiss.