My opinion on dogs and his opinion on Christmas trees. There’s a motion to re-neg next year.

"It's going to be such a pain. It's going to make a mess and leave shit all over the floor."

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Before he said “Natalie Portman”, my first guess was going to be “P.S. I Love You”, but that’s Gerard Butler. Also, not Julia Roberts.

“He also recommended– no, wait, he’s looking forward to seeing ‘True Grit’.”

“What’s that about?”

“It’s a western? Something like that. With what’s-his-name. Owen Wilson?”

“Ugh. Really?”

“Or, no, Clive Owen?”

“Oh! I like him.”

“Or Clive Olsen?”

“Uh, no.”

“Really? There’s not someone named Clive Olsen? That sounds like it could be someone’s name!”

“No.”

“Clive Olsen! Okay, wait, Clive Owen is the guy with the crooked nose? The other male model?”

“That’s Owen Wilson.”

“Are you sure there’s not a Clive Olsen?”

“You’re thinking of the Olsen twins.”

“Well who’s Clive Owen, then?”

“He was that guy in that movie that you have, with Julia Roberts. And Natalie Portman.”

“…”

“…”

“… ‘Stepmom’?”

[Edit: I just looked up the cast for “True Grit”. There are no Clives, Owens, Wilsons or Olsens anywhere in the first billing. I need to start subscribing to Star Magazine or something.]

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It’s mostly the former, actually. I’m kind of a jerk like that.

Noah's been gone enough by now that I can't remember how this started, but all I know is that when he's not here, Bean sleeps on my pillow and I sleep on his. I referenced it enough to him to where the last time he was home (for a day), he asked if I wanted to just switch sides, since I seemed to like the new sleeping arrangement so much. I declined, but then he pulled some shifty magic in the middle of the night and stole my pillow and I ended up being shunted to his side of the bed anyway.

So.

The uncertainty is regarding whether I first started sleeping on Noah's pillow, whereupon Bean decided to start sleeping (and shedding all over) my pillow, or whether my cat kicked me off my pillow first (why can't anyone in this household just let me be when it comes to orders of the sleeping kind?). But either way, this is how it goes, now: Noah leaves, and suddenly I'm sleeping on the right side.

Truthfully, I prefer the left side. It's closer to the windows, so I get more of the morning light (which I crave). But also truthfully, even if Bean weren't here, in Noah's absence I'd probably still sleep on his side of the bed. Partially from the "forbidden fruit" aspect (even though I realize it's not exactly "forbidden")– in the same way that I listen to Coldplay and Norah Jones, or do the Shim Sham in the kitchen in the middle of the night, when he's gone– and partially because it helps me miss him less. Like how I used to wear his enormous Cal hoodie in our first year of dating whenever we were apart. Sleeping in my normal space and not feeling the warmth of his presence as he moves ever closer until he's practically shoved me off the bed entirely just makes me lonelier, so instead, I sleep in the space he's supposed to be occupying and somehow, somehow, that's enough for now.