Me, I'm just hoping it's enough that they'll close down the university tomorrow, though I hold out no hope. I just want a snow day. An official snow day. Though tomorrow Ben and Andi and Doron and I are going to see the American String Quartet play Beethoven stuff at the Manhattan School of Music (guess who's idea that was? though I'm certainly looking forward to it) and I would hate to get snowed out of that. But boy would I love a snow day!

I'm sleepy - I imagine it's somewhat obvious in what seems to me to be a touch of meandering in my writing (or maybe it's only in the process of writing, as I am flipping back and forth between this and work and reading stuff online, cause it's that kind of a gray lazy day.) Last night was another late night with Ben - I think we fell asleep around 3 - and oh, the intimacy is worth it, but damn, I sure do feel it the next day. I joked that when we get into bed and turn the lights out, we turn into those kids in the back of the class that the teacher has to separate because they can't stop talking. It's gotten to the point where I'll honestly forget how shy Ben is until we get into a group and then I'm reminded of how quiet he can be. (Like our first couple of dates where I chattered on incessantly to fill in the silence.)

I am really enjoying how gradual our coming together is. We both keep taking these tiny (yet constant) steps toward deeper revelation - hesitant and tentative - and it is such a welcome change from my old days of baring everything immediately, practically flaying myself open for a new man within 48 hours of meeting. (I remember my first date with the louse - we sat and talked for hours and it was insanely intense, a relaying of deepest darkest secrets with such fierce immediacy that it forged a bond I didn't want to break. Needless to say, to bond with someone so quickly, without knowing what you're getting into - not such a good idea.)

Last night Ben told me a lot about the academic difficulties he had in high school and undergrad; he'd mentioned them before but we never talked about them significantly (not out of any avoidance, really - just that we often just have much more fun stuff to talk about.) Basically he had a really hard time getting through the non-math/science parts of undergrad because he has dyslexia and ADD and found writing very hard, not to mention that he went through his bad depression while we was trying to finish up his undergrad degree. Not to mention that he was doing it part-time anyway, and it took him over eight years to get his bachelors.

The funny thing is, is that I initially had some discomfort hearing about all of that. I think a lot of it was a little shaking-up, a little realization that my experience of sailing through four years of scholarship-sponsored full-time undergrad with honors and not a gigantic amount of effort isn't what everyone has. I�m humbled to think about how easy I had it. The more I think about it, the more impressed I am that even with all these struggles, not only did Ben get his BS, but he got a fellowship from NASA and is close to getting his Ph.D. That is a lot of hard work, and not everyone could or would do it. I have a lot of respect for him.

There were also some louse-tinged reactions, too, in that the louse had ADD and depression and hearing about these things again gave me a bit of a knee-jerk (internal) reaction of �oh god, what if he�s a maladjusted malcontent misfit!� (As if I wouldn�t have noticed by now!) But a few more moments of rational thought and consideration after that initial reaction let me realize that the difference isn�t the diagnosis � it�s what you do with it. The louse loved to use his challenges as justifications for why the world owed him, for why he deserved to be treated with kid gloves and given everything to him on a sliver platter (could I be any more clich�d?) (I am just struck with the realization that the louse is like this unholy combination of my Uncle Rick�s the-world-owes-me bitterness and my Uncle Jeff�s utter lack of social skills and "what? me shower?" approach to personal hygiene.) If Ben had that going on, well, ack. Yuck. Then I�d have problems.

And I am so glad to be talking this out, putting it out on paper. Because when I was with the louse, I never breathed a word of what we talked about, because it was all so shameful, and I knew that if it hit the light of day, if other, sane people knew what was going on, I�d have to face up to how bad it all was. I�m reminded of the time he told he how he�d stolen money from a neighbor of his and then managed to twist it around into how she�d wronged him � that never ever sat well with me, but I was able to ignore it. Had I actually put the situation on paper, it would have been crystal clear to me that I was rationalizing bad stuff.

So here I write about Ben to make sure I�m not rationalizing bad stuff. So far, so good.

Like how last night we also discussed our drinking habits. I told him how I went through a period when I first moved to the city where I was starting to think that my drinking was getting a little out of control, especially since I did things I was really ashamed of when I was drunk. So I stopped drinking for nine months and once I started back up again, I have been fine about it ever since. But I did need to examine it. Ben told me in turn that he thinks he should cut back on his drinking � he�ll often have a few beers after getting home from school in the evening and even though he doesn�t get drunk, he thinks he might be doing it a little too regularly, and he wants to be careful because of his history of depression. My impression of his drinking is that it seems healthy enough � he can use it as a bit of a social lubricant (that term always gives me the unfortunate visual of someone pouring a big old bottle of Astroglide over a the attendees of a cocktail party), as can I, as do many people � but in all the time we spend together, he doesn�t drink much at all. I am not worried, but I am glad that he is thinking about this, that he is looking at it, and it�s something I want to make sure I don�t gloss over. There�s a lot of alcoholism in my family, and I�ve seen what it can do, and I�m going to careful, that�s all.

(Though I do intend not to turn into my mother, who is of the mind that one sip of wine inevitably and invariably will lead to an eventual life lived in the gutter!)

I�m sort of losing my steam here � I�ve got more on my mind, but lots of it is scattered and not well-put together and I don�t want to alienate my audience with gooey love stuff, which is where my brain wants to go � but thanks, guys, for reading. It�s so good to not have to be quiet anymore.