Meet Roi

So, first of all I spent the better part of an hour catching up on Dooce this morning.  I probably could've spent my time better by chewing on some glass.  At least then I could've multi-tasked and gotten the dishes done too.  Chewing glass is a hands free, eyes free activity.  

If you don't know Dooce, first of all you've been living under a rock for the last several years.  Here's the short version.  She starts blogging way back when blogging was new, gets fired from her job, drinks a lot, finds and marries her soul-mate, has a kid, checks into the psych ward with a nasty bout of post-partum, tells the world about every detail, and ascends like a skyrocket into the heavens of professional blogging fame.  Published book, photo shoots, major sponsor deals etc etc.  

Now Dooce and her little family have moved into a giant, gorgeous house, all funded by writing about her crazy life.  And it's not that I'm not jealous about that.  I am.  It's that shit went all kinds of wrong in her life, but everything that DID go wrong was just a test leading her to all kinds of awesomeness.  

WHERE IS MY AWESOMENESS? 

I had a nervous breakdown too.  I just ended up in the poor house with everyone around me angry and disappointed in me.  As my sister would say, "fuck that noise".  

But where was I?  

Oh yes.  Meet Roi.  

Last night I broke down in tears in front of Roi, my partner.  And he was all, "I had no idea things were this bad!", and I was all, "then you must be blind".  So this morning he called me all cheery-cheeked and full of plans about how he is going to be the best boyfriend EVER starting RIGHT NOW.  

Props to him for trying so hard.  Just too bad that he doesn't remember how he said this last year.  And six months before that, and six months before that.

And if that seems bitchy and pessimistic, then you haven't tried loving an addict before.