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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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Dirty (but polite) old man

I had a mini freakout this morning when I realized that there was a check unaccounted for in my check register. I’m usually pretty good about these things, so I was taken by surprise when I logged into my account online and discovered that the check was for $250.

$250? Who the hell or what the hell was that for?

Half an hour later, the apartment upside down, my outlook bleak and Chicken Little-ish, Terence said, “Hey, did you have to pay taxes this time around?”

Aahhh yes, the taxman.

So all of my bills are taken care of, the check mystery has been solved, and one whole credit card has been paid off. Woohoo!

This living in Connecticut rent-free for 3 months is really getting me back on my feet, fiscally-speaking. It’s also helpful to no longer be the only breadwinner, and to have a boyfriend who loves to pay for everything when he’s employed. When I first met Terence, we were both poor, going to school and working jive jobs for chump change—he at The Advertiser doing typesetting and paste-up, me dividing my time between video store clerking and freelancing for a snowboard magazine. When we went out, even if I had slightly more money than he did, he would bat my hand away from paying. “You know your money’s no good when you’re with me,” he would say, in a funny and gallant tone of voice. I was charmed.

Though Hillbilly in his dentition (photo tk,) he is an urbane and slightly old-fashioned guy. At the wedding last week, he made sure to say hello to the groom’s entire family, spending extra time with the groom’s mother--a woman who, in spite of her blindness, made him apple tarts when he visited Ireland and now refers to him as “Terence the Painter” because he helped her son with home repairs. He opens and holds doors, he serves other people before he serves himself, he helps old people across the street, he offers to help friends before they even ask, he volunteers to put more money in the meter so I can continue shopping… the list goes on and on.

When my older sister first got to know him, she wisely said, “You know how some people have an Inner Child? Well, Terence has an Inner Old Man.”

So it’s ok that he packed a “More Dirty Debutantes #15” tape in his luggage, which was searched by the TSA on the way back from SF. I don’t mind that Ashcroft thinks he’s a perv; I know the truth.

3:20 p.m. - 2004-05-08

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