Boyfriend?

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v1.1) defines "boyfriend" as...
1) a frequent or favorite male companion; beau.
2) a male friend.
3) a male lover.

while supposedly American Heritage Dictionary (though the info was on the same site) defines it as...
1) A favored male companion or sweetheart.
2) A male friend.

Whatever the definition is, I think I may have somehow gotten one. I know, I know, I write this as though I randomly found a $2 lottery ticket, or picked up ringworm, sorry it's just still a little weird.

I am terrible at labeling my interactions with people and usually avoid it at all costs. I don't need to know that you are my "boyfriend" to have sex with you. I just need to know that you are not having sex with lots of other random people. Or if you are, that we both know it and are cool with it. And, on a side note, though I'm not sure it's your business or you even care, since there is no actual sex in this story yet I don't see why all this freaking matters. However, it has been pointed out to me that apparently this living a non-labeled existence makes other people slightly insecure. Whatever. So in order to be a better, more caring person, I have been trying out the term. Ironically though, if you behave like a teenager I then apparently follow suit, because I am lightly using the term with everyone but the actual boy. (insert exasperated sigh here).

Seriously. Is this stuff always this complicated/ridiculous?

But to be fair to the internet world I figured I should at least share a bit of what is going on. Met boy. Like boy. Spending quite a bit of time with boy. Boy seems to like me. In fact, boy tells me this almost all the time. This is good. That is where we are at.

However, as with all things dramalicious, it doesn't even come close to ending there. As this is 2008 the internet has of course infected my social interactions. It started with MySpace. I had a MySpace page a long time ago and abandoned it quickly after discovering the interface sucked. Since then I have become a dedicated Facebook addict. The boy though is still a MySpace user, so I booted back up the old page, updated it, and actually started blogging on it. But since he is the only one I think reading it the posts are pretty much centered around him or things we do. Mostly I do this to amuse him and to share with him things I want to say but can't figure out in actual conversation.

Then his roommate built a fan page for him on FB. So of course, I had to go and become a fan of his. It seemed only fair. On his fan page is a link to his Twitter account. And here is where the downward spiral begins. I am also on Twitter but use it only rarely (though I'm trying to update it more now). So I decided not to follow him publicly and instead type the feed directly in my toolbar so that I can keep up with his not so innermost thoughts without him knowing. Sound dangerous yet? Just wait.

Introduce into the situation a friend of his, we'll call Jane. There is a long, convoluted story about why I think that I don't like Jane and why I think she may be trying to date my new boyfriend (wow it even feels weird to type) but I will keep that for in person story telling time. Lets just say I have a pretty strong gut instinct that this girl is no good.

So the other day I decide to see who is a follower of his Twitter feed and lo and behold there is her mug shot smirking out at me. Obviously the next step is to then go see what she has to say, right? Well even if you think that is not the logical next step, that is where this story takes us. And to make it even more ridiculous, I decide to page back through the history to the night when all these untrusting feelings about her started and begin to try and dissect her updates. Way over analyzing. I know. I still freaking did it. And know I'm stuck with the knowledge in my head. Though to be fair it isn't even actual knowledge. It's fucking Twitter updates.

But in the end all that really matters is I met a boy. We went to the zoo. We are spending Thanksgiving together with friends. I like this boy. This boy likes me. Life is good.