I'm 12 weeks tomorrow...

But I promise this entire post won't be about all that.

It's been about 6 months, give or take, since I've had this blog up and running. I know some of my very devout readers are wondering what's been going on, and why I've taken such a long hiatus. And by devout readers, I really mean Nate, Kelly, and Maura.

So, let's recap.

I spent a few months in Ireland living and working, as most of you know. Also, as most of you know, I met and fell in love with a beautiful Eastern European named Darko. We were inseperable for the duration of my stay, so when I had to leave I was devasted, as you probably can imagine. As I was walking onto the plane Darko promised, in a very movie like fashion, that we would be together again very soon. Because I'm such a realist, I did not believe him AT ALL.

I arrived back in the states on May 23rd, at 2 in the morning, after a delay out of Dublin made me miss my flight from Chicago to Washington D.C., and then trying to locate my bag after hugging my mother in D.C. Surprisingly, I didn't sleep the whole next day. It wasn't difficult for me to reaclimate myself to the time here in the states. The only problem for me was that I was still living 5 hours ahead of me. Every time I looked at the clock at home, my mind immediately went to what time it was in Dublin, and what my second half would be doing. When my love and I were talking about what was going to happen after I left, and he kept promising that he'd come to the states in September, my initial thoughts were 1) The best case scenario would be that we would talk for the first few weeks, and then realize we had nothing in common and stop talking all together, or 2) we would never talk again.

We kept in constant contact for the most part, and I was incredibly relieved. After the first couple of weeks I was actually able to talk on the phone with him without breaking out into hysterical sobs. That's improvement. The best days were when he would go to the internet cafe and we could talk for hours and hours for absolutely free. My moods during those periods were definitely based on the number of minutes I was able to talk with him. I know. I'm pathetic.

The rest of my summer pretty much went that way. I did everything in my power to keep myself busy, whether it was reading Harry Potter at Borders, or watching a ridiculous amount of television, to keep my mind off the fact that I was separated by an ocean from the man of my dreams. One of the best days of the summer was June 10, when he told me he had booked his flight to Washington D.C. for August 10. I was so excited. Then it hit me that I still had 2 months to go. I know I shouldn't be complainging about 2 months, that many couples have to endure MUCH longer periods of separation, but at that time 2 months felt like an eternity. I continued my daily routine, talking with him as much as possible, reading a lot, watching a lot of television, and preparing myself mentally for the horrible move I was about to make to the depths of hell. Grundy. However, I swore to myself that I would not go to Grundy by myself. If he didn't come, I was going to find a job in D.C. and get some use out of my masters degree.

Everything was going fine up until July 28th, two weeks before his expected arrival. The weekend of our gathering in Richmond. The worst two weeks of my life. He started hanging out with a girl. Yes, that's right, a girl. A girl that was not me, and when he started hanging out with her, and by "hanging out" I mean spending hours and hours with her, he stopped talking to me. In the two weeks up to his arrival we talked, probably two hours the whole time. He was so enamored by this girl that he didn't feel the need to call me and tell me how things were going. *Just a side note, I only had my suspicions that he was spending so much time with this girl, he never came out and told me, and I never came out and asked, because I'm a pussy that way. It wasn't until after he got here that I found out the complete truth. That he loved me and didn't want to lose me, so he didn't tell me what was going on and tried to keep some distance between both of his worlds. We had a pretty bad fight because of the lying. We're past that now, because we're adults, but it was hard. * If I could portray the hurt and sadness of those two weeks to you all, you guys would probably jump off the tallest building you could find. I've never understood the whole "can't eat, can't sleep" thing when it comes to relationships, but for those two weeks I slept on average 3 hours a night, and usually could only finish one bowl of soup the entire day. It was not a good period in my summer.

However, we did still talk enough that I didn't COMPLETELY lose hope. The day before he was supposed to get on the plane he called me and we talked for a few minutes and he said "I'm giving my phone to a friend, so I won't be able to talk to you until I see you" and I said "Are you kidding me, you're not going to be able to call me and tell me you got on the plane?" and he said "I guess not" and I said "So, the next time I talk to you you'll be getting off the plane? You better get off that plane because I'm driving all the way up there to meet you" and he just laughed and said "I'm confused. I'll see you soon". Yeah, let me tell you. THAT was not a good night.

His plane was due to arrive at 5 o'clock at Washington Dulles International Airport. The entire morning I was a complete nutcase. I piddled around town for a while just trying to stay calm and relaxed and not give myself an ulcer. I kept looking at the clock and thinking "O.K. if he didn't get on the plane wouldn't he at least have the decency to call me and tell me he didn't get on?" But I couldn't answer that question. I left my house at around 3 and got to the airport at 3:45. I was still a nervous wreck, and after buying a magazine that I found was too hard for me to read, I sat and I waited. I probably went to the bathroom 28 times the entire time I was at the airport.

His plane was delayed. At around 6 I asked the staff when it would be landing. They said around 6:30. While I was sitting there I met this really nice couple. It was an American girl and an Irish dude who were there to pick up some friends of his flying in from Dublin. We chatted for a while and I said I was there waiting for my man friend, and wasn't entirely sure if he had even gotten on the plane. They were super nice and that passed some time.

Finally, his flight landed, and because I wanted to be able to see when he walked through those double doors, I stood up and waited by the gate. It took him around 30 minutes after the plane landed to get through customs and find his luggage. The entire time I was waiting numerous scenarios were running through my head. I was so nervous, I seriously almost passed out because of all the adrenaline and blood rushing to my head. I almost cried 12 times just waiting for him to come out. My knuckles were white from gripping the hand rail so tightly.

Finally, he walked through. And I have never seen a more beautiful sight. His hair was different, and he had on a new sweatshirt, but that was my Darko and I was so happy and excited. But let me tell you . Our greetings to each other was not what you would see in a movie, you know, when the girl runs into the open arms of her lover and he picks her up and swings her around and they engage in a passionate kiss. No no. Our was more along the lines of smiling and giving each other a high five. We couldn't stand long where we were because there were people coming off the plane and it was a bit of a madhouse, so we just started walking to the car. After we got out into the parking lot I finally had him stop and give me a proper hug. I think both of us were a bit nervous at that point and we needed to get used to the fact that he was here, but by GOD!! HE WAS HERE!!!!

That night we were alone in my house because Pete's wedding was the next day and all the family had already gone down. So we spent the night getting used to each other again. And then the next morning we drove down to Staunton so he could meet my entire extended family and attend his first American wedding. I got plastered. And by plastered I mean falling down, can't remember a thing, plastered. It was probably after about the 10th rum and coke that I stopped remembering my name. Apparently trying to do the Electric slide was NOT a good idea after consuming that much alcohol. It was great. Darko caught the garder, which I don't remember, and had to put it on the sister of the bride, who caught the bouquette, which I don't remember either. Someone broke a glass and apparently I thought it would be a good idea to walk around without my shoes on. I woke up the next morning with my foot slashed open and a very mild hangover. I think the hangover was so mild because we went to bed at 9. Just so you know the duration of my drinking. The wedding wasn't until 7. Which means the reception didn't start until 7:30, I was in bed my 9:30. Gotta love open bars and not eating dinner.

But Darko made an amazing impression on my family. Everyone loved his accent and his Europeaness. He got along splendidly with my cousin Byron, and my mom was just thrilled that he was here in the first place.

I was happy. That feeling has lasted, minus a few fights here and there, and working through an insane issue. But I am glad he's here. We're living here in Grundy and having a blast.

Well, I'll finish for now. The next installment will be explaining how it is that within three days of his arrival, I was knocked up.