He Just Is

There are a lot of incredible blogs out there. Have you looked lately? Everyone has something to say. That's wonderful!

I wandered around the interwebs this morning and found a few new blogs to read. Pertaining to dating and losing weight and accepting oneself as one is. And there seemed to be thread randomly through each one: men who like BBW women and/or whether or not those men are closet gay. Also, some large and lovely women were showing their appreciation for their gay male friends (the ones out of the closet), saying every BBW needs a gay friend.


Hmph. I don't have one of those. I even checked my closet.

So, here in surburbia I don't have any gays. (Maybe Kathy Griffin could lend me some.)

I do have a lesbian friend, but in this case, that does not come in handy. Unless perhaps I'm thinking of defecting to the other team entirely. I must admit, I've thought about it, but it just wouldn't feel right much as they feel it just doesn't feel right to be into men.

And coincidentally, on Grey's Anatomy this week, there was also a brief mention of the terms "work husband / wife." I know a few people who have them or a sports husband / wife.

Hmph. I don't have one of those either.

But as I went on with my day, which included trying to squirrel away a little play money for Vegas by playing a lovely game of Russian roulette with my bills, I realized I do have someone unique and special in my life.

I have an Italian Married.

(Apologies to Helen Fielding as I believe she first coined the phrase Marrieds in Bridget Jones' Diary.)


Mr Molto Bello Italia, here's to you. Somehow I don't think you're a closet gay, but talk about a supportive alternative opinion. He has such a different outlook on everything that it seems as if I can look at something with new eyes just by discussing it with him. And as you know, I even had a meltdown in the middle of the week. Not only did he keep talking to me, he really worked hard to give me a hand up out of the muddy darkness.

In Shakespeare's time, a muse was a required yet often lamented element in the creative process. Music, art, language, laughter, tears, truths and dreams...those are the pieces. My new muse; he is the glue for the puzzle pieces.

Don't get me wrong, my bestie Sweden is irreplaceable in her strong bitchy opinionated own way. I love her, there's no one else like her. And all my other girl friends, each unique and special in their own way. A male friend just offers a different perspective.

I can't say another woman has ever made me feel so good about life that I wanted to go out and buy flowers for the world.



So, I'll survive without gays or a work husband or a Red Sox husband.

I'll keep my Italian Married.

He rocks.


By the way, if you've missed the last few posts, you've missed a meltdown and a rebuild.