235--Birthdays and doubts

Back to blogging.  This week was my boyfriend's birthday; 29.  All in all it was a really nice birthday for him.  He woke up at my place after binging on my M&Ms and making me laugh with non-context stoned sentences about "double jeopardy" and whatever's "clever".  I didn't have work and neither did he so the morning was spent with more M&Ms and cozy sex in my warm room (thank God I don't pay electricity in a house with 5 girls).

We finally left the house around 1 to get our favorite Cuban sandwiches.  A ham one for him with a large coffee with cinnamon, and a turkey guava sandwich with a mojito cookie for me.  The rain was pouring outside the cafe and he talked about how good he felt on his birthday.  We played the cd mix I made him and headed to friend's house so my bf could quickly fix his printer.  The damn Bonsai plant place was closed on the way home so I couldn't buy him one of his gifts due to the rain, but hopefully we'll walk there over the weekend.

He picked up his mom from the airport around 7pm.  I really love his mom.  I honestly like her more than my own mom.  I admit I was a tad confused on why she was coming for his birthday since she's never been here by herself to visit him, but her frank and honest answer is that she hasn't spent his birthday with him since he was 18 and maybe she should stop by.

We (the bf, his mom, The Canadian, The Dietian, and her boyfriend, plus me) went to Benihana's.  The chef was hilarious and the food was amazing as always.  It was one of my most favorite nights out to eat in San Diego and I could tell by the buzzed smile on my boyfriend's face that he was happy.

The house was a joyful flutter when we got back to his place with roommates, old roommates, friends of friends, and neighbors coming and going with lots of wine and pot smoke.  I was truly happy for him then, and I felt a bit guilty he had to leave so early to stay at my place so his mom could sleep in his room.

The next day we went on a Costco run with his mom.  It's a favorite tradition of ours to get loaded up by his folks when they come into town, and it's one of my main points on why I want to be rich one day.  I too want to be able to drop a few hundred dollars on my kids to buy them some much appreciated toilet paper, soap, paper towels, razors, tampons, ect.

His roommates prepared a wonderful feast that night.  There was lemon rosemary chicken, oven baked salmon, horseradish mashed potatoes, mashed broccoli, and The Canadian and I prepared a pretty fucking awesome cheese plate with brie, asiago, a sharp cheddar, a French creamy-something, brie with mushrooms, plus a few raspberries and blueberries with some slices of pineapple and nan bread.

I hope his mom was had fun with the noise and food and happy people around, and I couldn't help but wonder her thoughts of her son still acting like a teenager semi-hiding the smoking on the backyard porch.

We got to talking a little about my boyfriend and I and where we're at and where I'm at in life.  Very plainly she told me that one day I would simply have to decide if marrying someone in the pot industry was something I wanted or not wanted.  I don't want it.  But I want him.  For the most part.  Aside from the money problems and school problems--which are big problems--I just want...everything. 

But I guess in seeing her I realized that I couldn't.  In seeing a part of my past I was slapped into consciousness about how unhappy I am here.  I just...don't want to live in San Diego anymore.  This isn't the right place for me.  There's a reason I can't bring myself to decorate my room.  There's a reason I've been so sluggish trying to make friends here.  There's a reason I don't want to find another job because it would mean I'd have to stay here.

And maybe Portland is stupid.  Maybe it's going to be too cold, and too unfriendly, and it would be the exact damn thing as anywhere else I go.  But I guess I just fell in love with it one spring day driving fast with a Twilight soundtrack on and it's never let me go.  His mom knows that Portland is on my brain and has been and joked that I would be freezing most of the time.  I wanted to joke back, "I'll wear a hat".

Her last night here was a night we went out with my boyfriend's cousin and her new husband.  I remember the girl 3 years ago working for Green Peace and hooking up with a mutual friend on the couch.  So for her to now be working with autistic kids and married to a marine was a bit of switch.  But she's still loud and wonderful.  She gave me a tip about a education publisher near base (a very long commute) which I appreciated, and I wished her luck in getting her next degree.  

And then it was time to go.  His mom had a flight in the morning so I had to say goodbye earlier than I wanted to and I tried not to cry.  And she offered me a cryptic, "I'll see you again eventually," as she hugged me goodbye.  I offered her an equally cryptic, "I hope I see you again before summer."  

I had a breakdown yesterday.  I don't want to live in San Diego very much longer.  But I'm not ready to go.  My boyfriend was here and accused my shitty job of making me want to leave.  No, it's not just the job.  The only reason I'm here in SD is for my relationship, but did he expect me to stay here forever just for him?  I told him that I moved here with the expectation that I'd move to San Diego, we'd live in separate places, date like a normal couple for a few months, possibly move in together, then move to Oregon in June.  

I asked him what he expected.  He said he expected that we'd live in separate places, date normally, and go from there.  He asked me if it's marriage I seek.  No.  It's the possibility of progress and I'm not progressing here and I don't want to.  He laid it out that he's not coming with me so I either go without him or try to make it here with him for a little longer.  If anything at all, he thinks I should stay just to build my resume to bring up there.  

When I told him that I don't support his career and don't want it in my life long-term, he said, "that's not love." It's not, I agreed.  Neither is staying somewhere I don't want to be just to be with someone.   He asked me to work on things with him together and for us to try and be partners more these next few months because he loves me and he stills wants to try.  I don't know what do I. 

And so birthdays and doubts.  He's 29, making a career in pot, loving San Diego.  I'll be 24 in April and I either want to be happy in San Diego freelancing, or I want to be in Portland starting a career in publishing.  Fuck.  

Fuck.