My Sudafed expired 4 months ago!

Breathing is highly overrated.

I can say this now, because since Sunday, I haven't been doing too much breathing. It seems that EVERYBODY in Naptown is sick AGAIN. This time, I've joined the ranks of the unclean at the appropriate time instead of doing my usual "I'm just going to be tired and grumpy instead of being sick" thing.

Bleh! I'm NEVER kissing boys again! NEVER!!! (Okay, maybe cute ones)

That was probably part of my problem, because when I went out last Friday, I kinda swapped spit with a couple boys on the dance floor, but you knew that already by reading the previous entry. I'm convinced that my hedonistic decadence was to blame for my illness of the last week. Oh well. I'm on the mend, and besides, I had fun.

I've been reading Todd's three-part mini-series of his relationship with a boy named Theo. All along, there was a question whether Theo would read the account and flip out, hate Todd forever, etc. Turns out that Theo did read it, and (sorta) typed out a rebuttal which wasn't surprising.

Relationships always have this "He said, She said" thing going on, no matter how close you are, or how fantabulous your communication might be. Theo had a different perspective of how things happened because he didn't occupy Todd's skin. Perfectly natural, say I. It makes us individuals, and makes for pithy conversations.

But that's not what I was thinking about.

A while back, I wrote about relationships. I was blathering on about my "Perfect boyfriend" and how he would use obscure words in ordinary conversation. I also introduced a concept that works much like my little red Sudafed pills (by the way, were you aware that you can't just stroll into a store and buy Sudafed anymore? Pisses me off!) Expiration dates. My Sudafed expired in 10/04. Conventional wisdom says that I shouldn't be popping these pills into my mouth after 11/1/04, but screw that. I can't breathe. I'm willing to risk disfigurement to not be a walking snot factory for a few hours.

I digress. The just of that entry was that relationships have expirations. When they are over, they're over. Some have long dates of play (the Rolling Stones of the relationships, if you will) and others are more Manilli Vanilli hot weekends. (You know what I mean--we've all hooked up at one time or another)

The problem is being able to be the OmniOmni and look at the box on the first date. If you can see that this thing aint going to last more than 6 months, maybe the split-up would be easier knowing that it was supposed to be a fling. Unfortunately, we don't get the chance to see the date until we eat one, and know from that certain queazy feeling that it's a little past it's prime....

I just re-read this, and couldn't help but think of what a fatalistic approach it is. It's a fun theory to bounce around, though. Besides, I need something to think about in bed tonight.

Be well.