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10-03-01 - 11:18 p.m. Whew, it's over. (For now.) Yesterday was my 18th birthday (yay!) as well as one of the most hectic days I've had in a very long time. 6:00 a.m. � I go to work. 12:15ish p.m. � Cute Boy Leif calls, asks if I'm doing anything and would I like to go for a cup of coffee. I say yes, around 7 in the evening. He says okay. 6:20 p.m. � I finally get off work, go home, take a shower, put on something casual but nice, style my hair in loose curls. 7:10 p.m. � Have coffee with Leif at Starbucks. I explain my scarred hands to him and he shows me a place on his stomach where his father stabbed him when he was 15. I don't tell him about my father. It's too soon for me to divulge that much. I don't want to make it a "Who had the worst childhood?" contest. I keep my mouth shut but my ears open. He tells me I have nice hair. Loose curls are the way to a man's heart. Or at least to his penis. Either way that hair style is a guy electromagnet. 8:00 p.m. � Birthday dinner with Rob... He complimented my hair. He gave me something that blew my mind. I had expected something horrifically romantic from him, my (technically) ex-boyfriend, but nothing so extravagant as, oh, I don't know, a platinum opal ring. Opal is my birthstone. I hate gold but love silver and platinum. Rob knows these things well. When he pulled out the little aqua box with the white bow on top, I just about freaked. Then I thought to myself: "This is Robert here. The Maniac Moriarty. He painted this box and bought a white ribbon and inside is a pile of sand or one of those 'free chores for a week' coupons second-graders make for Father's Days." I was wrong. I of course told him I couldn't accept it, which, if you think about it, is the stupidest thing anyone can ever say. But I digress. I asked him why he had given me something like it, mentioning that nobody gives anybody a gift that expensive unless there is an underlying message. He told me three things: a.) He "wanted to complement my already-beautiful hands." He also gave me a gift certificate to his store (oh lord), a new faceplate for my phone (purple), and a nail file with a naked man on it. I have yet to take the ring off my finger. It's gorgeous. As strange as I feel wearing it, just looking at it brings a smile to my face. A customer at work today asked if it was an engagement ring. I replied with an unintentionally loud "No way! I'm just barely 18!" Stacy at work (an ally) and I had a chat today while on a cigarette break. I bought them. I can do that now. (Get used to these little realizations. My legality is sinking in slowly.) She said something to me I really liked, which was: "You don't really seem to think before you do or say anything, but you think afterwards. That's good. Most people, especially your age, don't think at all." I wonder if that's true. That was basically it for my birthday. I spent some time with my family after eating with Rob, and went to dinner with them tonight, and Bryan and Justin are taking me to see The Lion King in Los Angeles this Saturday. And so I'm 18. Time to start acting my age. Or maybe that's what I've been doing all along and have been too caught up in the search for myself to realize it. It's probably high time I stopped trying to find out who I am and started deciding where I'm going.
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