Last night I had a dream that Brad, my ex-boyfriend, was breaking up with me all over again. It was a wretched feeling, and I remember feeling this overwhelming dread that I was going to have to go through it all again. The depression, the sadness, the lonliness, the emptiness, the deep dark dread of every day.

I woke up with the remnants of those feelings still lingering. And then I remembered where I was. I rememberd Mike and how happy he makes me and how we’re getting married in five months. And how I feel really happy with life right now.

And holy shit was I relieved!

I thought some of you might be interested in what I wrote over at Shan & Mike yesterday about acknowledging our support of marriage equality in our wedding. And also I thought you might have some good ideas for us. I admit, that’s my real motive.

If you’re sick of ‘hearing’ me ‘talk’ about the last name topic, that’s ok. But if not, you should read about the last name ultimatum I heard live on the radio this morning. Crazy stuff.

[Want to read more on this topic? I've written about it here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here.]

Have you heard of mint.com? Trying to save for a wedding has really opened my eyes to my money situation. I’ve managed to skate by every month, but sometimes barely, so trying to save a certain amount of money in a set amount of time has posed a major challenge, and it was a big wake up call.

For a long time the Giraffe has been suggesting we set a budget, or at least get a better idea of where our money goes. I’m pretty frugal, but I’m not good at sticking to a budget. Life is too messy and unpredictable for that. But it did make sense to get a better idea of how I spend my money.

Enter my friend Robin (of recent weddinghood), who told me about mint.com. It connects to all your loans, accounts, credit cards, etc. and keeps track of your spending, your savings and your financial goals.

When you get started, you tell mint where your stuff is (accounts, loans, all that), it connects to that site, asks for your login/account info, and pulls in all your information. Once all your stuff is gathered, you can set up a budget and financial goals.

Then there’s all kinds of fun graphs and charts and stuff that help you visual your spending. So when you charge $10 at McDonald’s, mint.com recognizes that you just spent $10 in the “Fast Food” category. And you can change the categories as needed. If you spend $50 at Target, mint might categorize that under “Personal Care” but you know you actually bought a gift for a friend’s wedding shower, so you change it to “Gifts” next time you log in.

You can also set goals. Like, say, for instance you want to save $2,000 for a wedding by June. Tell mint and it’ll help you figure out how and keep track of how well you’re doing. I haven’t figured out if you can merge two accounts though. Since the Giraffe and I are saving for the wedding together, it’d be nice to look at all of our accounts and savings as a whole. Anyone know if it’s possible?

If you want a better picture of your financial situation, you should check it out. It’s all free, the website is easy to use and pretty to look at, and I think it’s pretty safe and secure.

[I'm not getting paid in any way to promote this site, I just thought it might be useful to others.]

[Also posted at Shan & Mike.]

When we woke up in Vegas, we decided to use our free $25 food credit (we got it when we booked the hotel) at the breakfast bar. No way could I eat $12 worth of food at that point, but we couldn’t let the free money go to waste! After breakfast we packed up and checked out, heading for our final destination, San Diego. Our original plan was to explore La Jolla, but by the time we got there, I was not feeling well at all. We stayed at Erica’s new apartment, the friend whose car we were driving, and rather than explore the city, we stayed in. Actually we did drive around to find a place to print our boarding passes, but that was the extent of our exploration. At the apartment we reorganized all of our stuff to fly it home, and I went to bed before 9.

Unfortunately in the middle of the night I found myself in the bathroom hanging over the toilet. Sorry Erica, I christened your toilet many times over. So my symptoms: sore throat, headache, congested head, body aches and barfing. Flu right? After that miserable night, I spend the next day doing little more than sitting on the couch. The Giraffe went out to find a Trader Joe’s and stock up on all the treats he misses from his time in California a few years ago.

And because we didn’t actually do anything in San Diego, the only other picture I have to show you is the one of this little guy that was hanging out on the side of the apartment building:

The flight home kind of sucked. It was a direct flight from San Diego to Chicago, which was nice (and cheap!), but when you don’t feel good, flying blows. By the way, you know the Giraffe is quite tall, and so he really needs an exit row in order to even fit on a plane. Well, Southwest doesn’t do assigned seating, it’s basically a free-for-all. And we knew the coveted exit row seats would go fast. So he talked to the boarding agent pre-flight and she took one look at him and understood his plight. She let us be part of the pre-board group—you know, families and people who need special accommodations. Yes my freakishly tall fiance needs special accommodations when flying. So cute. Gotta say, I didn’t mind the extra leg room myself.

Anyway, once we got to Chicago my sister and her fiance picked us up and drove us home. I felt ok for the first hour of the drive, but then I began to feel pukish. It was no fun. No fun at all trying to keep myself from vomiting all over everyone. When we finally pulled into our apartment complex after a few hours in the car, I didn’t even say goodbye. I made a run for the bathroom. And I spent all that night and all Sunday in delirium. It’s all a big blur to me. A blur of sleeping and throwing up and coughing and sleeping and blowing my nose and swallowing medicine and sleeping. I even had to take Monday off to continue recovering. Ugh, don’t ever get the flu. It sucks.

So yeah, the trip was awesome. The car malfunction and the illness parts sucked, but I think what I’ll remember is the stunning national parks and the beautiful countryside and the bonding time with my man. I’m so glad we did this trip.

The Grand Canyon was incredible, but so were Zion National Park and Bryce Canyon. I am always so amazed with the crazy awesome things nature creates all on its own. I mean humans build awesome buildings and bridges and whatnot, but even without us, there are some fucking amazing things that exist.

On Wednesday we drove through Zion (twice) and Bryce. Zion has a shuttle you can take further into the park, but we decided to just drive through and go to Bryce first, thinking we’d probably grab the shuttle when we came back through. So first, Bryce. This was an afterthought on our part. My grandpa found out we were going to be so close and insisted that we make time for it. Very worth it. I could have stared at this place all day if it hadn’t started raining. Luckily we were at one of the last stops we planned to make before it did.

When we left the park, we drove straight back to Zion, a place we were very familiar with by now.

Then we got some bad news. Suddenly the car was making this awful noise, like the muffler was missing, and the Giraffe, who was driving, could feel a vibration from the engine. Shit. I was a spaz, I just could not handle the situation at the time. Luckily the Giraffe remained level-headed and eventually sorted something out. After way too many phone calls, we determined we should not drive it, we found a tow truck, found a place to have it towed and then waited. It was already evening, so there was no way anyone was going to look at the car that day, which meant we definitely weren’t going to make it to our hotel in Vegas. We ended up spending the night in St. George, UT instead.

I was a disaster, but once we had a plan, I managed to relax and realize it could be so much worse. Once we got the car where it needed to be, we settled into our hotel room, ordered pizza, visited the hot tub and called it a night. Thankfully, all that was wrong was a rusted out exhaust pipe, but it was right near the engine so they said it was good we didn’t drive it anymore. They had it fixed by noon on Thursday and we were on our way to Vegas, baby!

I hate to tell you this, but I wasn’t a big fan of Vegas. I’ll go ahead and admit right now that we were in our room by 10pm. I can see the appeal for a lot of people, but I’m not a late night crazy partier, so I didn’t feel like I was missing anything. Even though I don’t like to gamble or drink till all hours of the night, I thought I’d be intrigued by all the energy and lights and excitement in LV. Instead, I was hot and tired and crowded and annoyed.

When we checked into the Monte Carlo, the first thing I did was take a nap. The Giraffe played poker. Then we went to dinner at Cafe Ba Ba Reeba (with our restaurant.com coupon – first restaurant non-fail!) and walked back down the strip. It was cool for sure, but it all eventually looked the same. We stopped for a fountain show at the Bellagio, walked through some of the hotels and shunned about 924 people trying to give us naked lady trading cards. I hate those people so much. I started to feel sick, so when we got near the Monte Carlo, we decided to go in. The plan was to just change clothes and take a break for a minute, but once we got there we realized we weren’t that enthusiastic about going back out. So we didn’t.

Go ahead, make fun, call us lame. I just think next time I visit Vegas I need to have more money so I can play some slots without guilt and see a show. If there is a next time…

So the Grand Canyon. What is there to say? It’s amazing. I was worried about all the commercialization because that’s what I hated about Niagara Falls. When I recall my visit there, I think not about the majesty of the falls but about the obnoxiousness of all the people and gift shops and parking lots that surround them.

Luckily the Grand Canyon was a different experience, at least for me. Yes there are LOTS of people and LOTS of shops/lodges/visitor centers and LOTS of parking lots and cars. But there was also many moments when we found ourselves walking or standing near the canyon all alone.

As I mentioned, we camped there Monday night, and we packed up camp right away in the morning. Like 6 because we slept so poorly. Ludicrous right? Our first stop was the canyon coffee shop so we could get caffeine and also steal electricity to charge my camera battery. As we were walking out, I glanced to my right and saw a big hole in the ground. “Holy crap is that it right there?” It was. So we walked out to see the canyon for the first time. You really can’t quite believe it until you see it.

Then we took a shuttle that goes to one of the furthest points with several stops along the way. I thought it was a pretty good way to see the canyon. You get many different vantage points, and there’s the option to walk from point to point and then hop back on the shuttle when you feel like it.

I don’t even know what to show you because none of my photos look any different from other GC photos, but here’s the muddy river that created this behemoth:

And here’s one that doesn’t even come close to demonstrating the vastness of this thing:

And for good measure, here’s proof that we were indeed there:

We probably could have stayed longer, but we had a five plus hour drive to get to our hotel for the night, so we left the park in the early afternoon. When you get up at 6 apparently you can get a lot done! The road to the east exit of the park runs along the canyon so we made a lot of stops on our way out, as well.

Once outside the park I was fascinated by all the roadside “Indian” (I’m really uncomfortable with that term for Native Americans, but that’s what the signs said. I think it’s done to appease all the white tourists.) shops that mostly sold hand-crafted jewelry. I was hankering for an authentic hand-made turquoise piece because it’s my birthstone, but I didn’t buy anything. To be honest, I like subtle, simple turquoise and all these pieces were a little much for me.

We didn’t plan the next phase of our trip very well because we made a last minute decision to visit Bryce Canyon and never changed our hotel reservation to accommodate that. So Monday night, after GC, we drove all the way to Hurricane, UT which took us through Zion National Park. The original plan was to stay in Hurricane and explore Zion all day Tuesday. But instead we stayed in Hurricane, then drove back through Zion Tuesday morning to get to Bryce, then drove back through Zion on the way to Las Vegas. Did you get that? Three times through Zion! Which is a stunning place, so we didn’t mind, but the backtracking was silliness on our part.

Anyway, boring details, sorry. The point is that we drove through Zion Monday evening and stayed in Hurricane overnight. I started feeling sick that night, too. I had a sore throat all day, but I wasn’t too concerned. However, when I woke up in the middle of the night because I had to puke, then I worried. Sick while traveling? Again? Fuck.

I don’t yet have my Zion or Bryce pictures uploaded, so I’ll share those next time.

(You love my trip recaps, don’t lie.)

A very special Happy Birthday to this adorable boy right here:

Unfortunately we both work and then he has class all night so there is very little celebratory action happening today. But we’ll make up for it this weekend. With dinner and presents I mean.

Happy birthday doll. Thank you for coming into my life.

On the second day of our trip, Sunday, we took off early (by early I generally mean 8 because anything before that is ludicrous; in fact even 8 is a bit ludicrous) and drove to Tulsa. When researching Tulsa I got the impression that Historic Cherry Street was something to check out, so we went there. All I can say is… wow, lame. Couple churches, some restaurants (many of them fast food) and a gas station or two. We drove the length of it, switched drivers and quickly got out of Tulsa. I tried desperately to get a good picture of something, anything, but ultimately failed. Sorry Tulsans.

By the way, the Giraffe and I basically split the driving the whole week. I’d say overall he did more than me, but we switched every couple hours generally. And we listened to audiobooks almost the whole time which is a brilliant way to a) read a book, b) make driving more interesting, and c) not have to talk to each other when your fiance is driving you mad (and by “your fiance” I mean the Giraffe’s fiance. Poor guy, I can be grouchy.).

Next stop was Amarillo. We had selected a restaurant online, and I swear we checked to make sure it was open Sundays, but when we pulled in we were denied. Closed. Second restaurant fail in two days. We asked the GPS to find us a nearby Mexican restaurant and there was one less than a mile away. I can’t tell you how delicious those damn burritos were. I love you El Tejavan.

Final stop for the day was Santa Fe. We got there late so didn’t do much, unfortunately.

Monday we didn’t linger in Santa Fe because we had a full day ahead, so we took off for Albuquerque where we stopped in Old Town. It was Labor Day, so there were only a few shops open, but it was actually perfect because the parking was free and there were almost no people around. After shopping, we drove to the Petrified Forest where we bought an $80 Annual National Park Pass since we were planning to visit four on this trip alone. The Petrified Forest was pretty cool. I love land that is preserved and undeveloped, so we made a few stops, took a lot of photos, went to the Visitors Center and went on our merry way.

We had dinner in Flagstaff at the Galaxy Diner on old Route 66. Burgers, fries and a chocolate malt? Yes please.

After Flagstaff it was off the to the Grand Canyon where we got in just before the sun went down. But alas, we didn’t get to see it set over the canyon because we were too busy setting up our tent with one small flashlight and the trace amounts of sunlight left. Sleeping that night was rough. We had to sleep diagonally in the small tent because of the Giraffe’s giraffe-ness, we only had one pillow, the ground kept punching knots in our backs, and all night we heard strange noises that the Giraffe thought were elk calls but that turned out to just be cars running over rumble strips on park roads.

When we saw the Grand Canyon the next day though, we decided it was well worth the terrible night. More on that later.

My recent absence can be explained in two words: ROAD TRIP! Awhile ago the Giraffe and I got the opportunity to drive a friend’s car across the country—she’s moving to San Diego, but driving a moving truck and needed to get her car there, too. We didn’t want to miss the chance to see some cool parts of the country, so we figured out how we were going to afford it and started planning.

We were gone a week, Saturday to Saturday, and managed to see a lot of new cities, states and attractions. It was pretty awesome. Except I got sick. Big frickin’ surprise because apparently I get sick every time I travel. Remember Ireland? And that wasn’t the first time. When will I learn? Luckily the worst of it was the Sunday after we got home – that day is pretty much a blur in my memory. As the Giraffe put it, “every time you emerged from the bedroom (usually to use the bathroom), it was like you were in another world.” I was. It’s called Delirium.

So the trip. Road Trip 2009.

We left early and drove straight to St. Louis where, of course, we saw the Gateway Arch and took all the same pictures I’m sure everyone takes.

Then we attempted to eat dinner. See, we had this great plan where we found coupons on restaurant.com. We bought coupons for three different restaurants in cities along our trip, $25 off at a meal for only $10 each. PLUS a sweet 80% discount I found. Basically we were gonna get $25 of food for $2 at each place. Yay right? Except we had horrible luck everywhere we went.

In St. Louis we planned to eat at Gladstone’s. St. Louis BBQ, yum. We got there and had no idea what to do. There was a smoke-filled bar, a crowded patio with live music and an empty dining room. We were standing in the dining room, looking confused, when an employee asked what we wanted. Um, to eat please. So she told us to sit, gave us menus, sighed and walked away. We never saw her again. After 20 minutes, we wrote a note on our restaurant.com coupon (“Sorry, had to take off. Thanks!”) and bailed. We ate Subway on the way out of town.

We slept at a Motel 6 in Joplin, MO where there was no free wifi, no art on the walls, no alarm clock, no free toiletries, a full-size “queen” bed, a crappy shower, a hard mattress and what we called a dog blanket on the bed. Lame, Motel 6, lame.

It gets better, I promise.

Thanks for all the congratulations and well wishes. You guys sure make me feel good. I’m sure I’ll write here about wedding plans as they progress, but if you’re really interested in following along, check out the joint blog the Giraffe and I created: Shan & Mike.

We’ve talked about doing a blog together for awhile, and keeping friends and family informed of our evolving plans seemed like a good way to start. But I also hope it’s interesting to others because we are inevitably doing things a little different than I think many couples do, and we’re doing it on a pretty limited budget. So basically how to do a “nontraditional” wedding on the cheap. Or how we’re doing it at least.

We’ll probably cover other things too, couple-y and otherwise, and it will most likely evolve into something else entirely post-wedding. So if you want, head on over and check it out.

I’m getting married!

I can’t believe how my life has changed in the last year. I never expected to meet anyone so soon after feeling so heartbroken, and when I signed up for match.com in November, I didn’t really believe I’d find anyone. People to go out with? Yes. But someone I would love? Hardly. But here we are, only eight months later and not only am I in love, but I’m engaged.

The Giraffe and I never really avoided the topic of marriage. I think we’ve been talking about the possibility from the beginning – maybe that happens when you get to a certain age. Over the summer we started to talk more and more seriously about it, even discussing the details of a wedding. Pretty soon we were talking about potential wedding dates, and then we had to stop and ask ourselves how serious we were about this. Turns out, pretty damn serious.

A while ago our friend Erica (E – get a website so I can link to you!), an aspiring photographer, said she was always looking for ‘models’ to practice on. I never planned on doing an actual engagement session like many couples do, but I thought it’d be fun to pose for a fake one anyway. So on July 19 we did a (free) faux engagement photo session. At that point we knew we wanted to get married, but we hadn’t used the term “engaged” yet. One passerby saw us posing for photos and asked, “engagement session?” Well sort of, we answered. And it was that night that we decided to officially consider ourselves engaged.

Soon after, we both bought engagement rings. I got permission to pick his out with no help from him, and we picked out mine together (I had something VERY specific in mind!), and we split the cost. His is titanium with a black walnut inlay. Mine is white gold with a cushion cut green amethyst. His came in last week, and I got mine yesterday. I pretty much love it.

We’ve started planning a wedding, but nothing is for sure yet. We are both determined to keep it low-stress and low-budget because the actual wedding is just not worth a lot of anxiety or cash to us. After seeing how much work my sister’s and friends’ wedding were/are and how much drama surrounds them, we’re more determined than ever to keep it simple. We’ve even discussed the possibility of elopement or a trip to the court house.

No matter what we do, we’re both very, very happy.

(Also, my baby sister proposed to her boyfriend in July, and another sister was proposed to last night. So now one of us is married and three of us are engaged. There’s a seven year age difference between the four of us, but somehow we all met our match at the same time. So weird.)

GRRRR!

I’m growling at some of the unbelievable comments on this Elle article.

It’s by a writer who did not change her name at marriage, and who references a study that suggests 70% of Americans think women should (I mentioned this study earlier). She points out some of the study’s flaws, but I think the point is clear: when challenged, people have really strong feelings about this issue.

And I’d the say the majority of them think women should blindly follow this tradition, no questions asked, no thoughts given, no options explored. Just shut up and do it.

Some comments from the article:

Not taking his name is an insult to him.
-John

So is not taking her name an insult to her?

My wife and I talked about it for a little while, and here’s how the conversation went: “I don’t think I’m going to change my name.” “Why not sweetie?” “It’s just a stupid tradition that isn’t really a big deal anymore. We’ve already lived together for 2 years, why should I have to change my name?” “Well, that’s a good point. In fact, why have a wedding? It’s just a tradition. Why get married, when we can just live together, since marriage is just a tradition nobody really needs.” She got the point immediately.

As a man, why should I cave to cultural demands that my fiance finds appealing while she gets to take out the traditions she doesn’t like? Think about how much grief a guy gets from society if he doesn’t marry his live in girlfriend. “He is just stringing her along, what a jerk!” I don’t have to get married at all, and my wife doesn’t have to change her name. But I marry her because I love her and she cares about the tradition that I think is outdated. She takes my name because its part of that tradition. Picking and choosing the parts you like and don’t like from an age old tradition screams pick and choose feminism. Hyphenated names get ridiculous. What happens when a daughter with the last name Smith-Johnson marries a boy who is a Jensen-O’Reilly?
-JP

JP, marriage is more than a tradition. It’s a legal union between people. There are traditions within marriage and especially weddings, but traditions aren’t rules or laws or legal requirements. People have options. You don’t get married because it’s tradition (or you probably shouldn’t), you get married because you want to legally unite your life with someone else’s. You can have different last names and still be married.

Why is this even an issue? Here is a message to all you liberal, ultra-feminist, man-hating women: SHUT THE F*** UP! Stop bitching and moaning over everything! Just shut the f*** up and get in the kitchen! It’s like, all of you women out there are obviously BORED out of your pathetic minds and sit there with your K.D Lang poster on the wall and are just thinking of things to bitch about! Shut up!

And to the pathetic writer of the article, your husband is not a real man and I would place money that you two will be divorced in less than five years. No man will put up with that and certainly not forfeit their name to take their wife’s. All you “men” out there that have or are doing it, GROW A PAIR AND USE THEM. All that bullsh** about “my identity” and marrying “later in my life and knowing who I am” are just excuses for: I’m a liberal bitch who hates men but am too afraid of coming out of the closet. You women are what is wrong with America today. You are the woman that cause men out there to laugh at us. Good job! You made an ass out of yourself again!
-Ashley

Note to the Giraffe: You’re not a real man if you let me keep my last name. We will be divorced in less than five years. You should grow some balls and use them (for what exactly, I’m not sure). You should probably know I hate men, I’m a liberal bitch and I’m a closet lesbian. Also, I am what is wrong with America, so if you want to reconsider things between us, I understand.

I agree with John, why the hell did you get married at all if the only thing that was going to change is that now if you leave him he has to give you half a house or vice versa, You could just continue writing under the same name. (Pseudonym, ever heard of it?) It seems as though you are just doing this to cause some sort of stir and prove youself to be a feminist among your female readers.
-Hunter

Oh thank you Hunter. You know, I was thinking about getting married to a man I love in part because of all the benefits it brings. Like how I can see him in the hospital and get information on his medical condition if he’s injured, we can join the Peace Corps together someday, we can more easily adopt children together which we both hope to do, we can use each others’ employer-provided health insurance coverage and on and on. But then I thought wait, Hunter’s right, I don’t want to change my last name to his! Therefore, we’re foregoing all those benefits and we’re just going to not get married. Thank you for showing me such obvious logic!

I’m taking his name. I think you should either take your husband’s name or hyphenate. You’re joining two lives and should act as such. By keeping your own name, its like denying you are married. Its a lie. I’ll be proud when I can be called, legally and forever, Mrs. Heskett.
-Jayme

I suppose then, future Mrs. Heskett, that your future husband will be living a lie and denying that he’s married if he doesn’t change or hyphenate his name? That’s what you’re implying right?

Fortunately there is some hope, as evidenced by several other commenters:

Guess I just don’t understand the fuss. I married my wife because I love her and it had nothing to do with names. I didn’t care if she took my last name or not and told her that either way, I’d be happy. She chose to use her maiden name as her middle name. No hyphens. There’s so many problems in the world without getting ridiculous about something as minor as this.
-tchudson

Wow… every time I read the comments from people on the internet, I lose a little more faith in humanity. I am so disheartened by the venom that people have toward others. Give people some anonymity, and the hatred just boils over. To all of the folks who are so frightened of people breaking with tradition… why are you afraid? No one is making you hyphen your name, or take your wife’s name….it doesn’t affect your marriage at all. You are free to make your own choices. Other people’s marriages have nothing to do with you…pay attention to your own marriage and maybe we can change the high divorce rate in this country.

The tradition we are considering here, the woman taking the man’s last name, is a designation of property transfer from the father to the husband. Somehow we have lost the associated dowry and kept the name change. If you are okay with that, by all means carry on. But know that a woman taking a man’s name was originally done to let everyone know who her new owner was…and children are also subject to patriarchal ownership. As for me, my husband took my name. I don’t usually advertise this (or deny it, for that matter)… but I think it is relevant to this discussion. I’m not a “man-hating feminazi.” We had our own unique situation where WE felt it was appropriate to do it that way…it was natural for us. He wasn’t very attached to his last name (a stepfather’s) and I was very attached to mine. He is secure enough to not be disrespected or demeaned by taking my name. I figure anyone who cares about what I do with my name, or what my husband does with his, has some serious insecurities.
-Emily

I’ll keep it short: I’m a guy. My last name is Merritt. My wife’s last name is Kamisasanuki. How could I possibly suggest covering up such a beautiful and historically rich heritage with my middle-of-the-road ancestry? Her grandfather has hand-crafted samurai swords in museums. People confuse me with shampoo and boy scout awards. Women should definitely keep their last names. We’re no more relevant/important/special/etc.
-T

I left my own comment that (as of right now) hasn’t shown up yet. It just reiterated what I’ve already written here several times, so I won’t repeat it. But really, what is so very wrong with people thinking about it, discussing it with their partner and making a decision that makes sense for them as individuals, as a couple and as a family?

S: Hey Giraffe. How are you?

G: I’m good. A little nervous about revealing myself to the world wide web, since I’m basically a computer moron. But overall, pretty good.

S: You are pretty funny with the computer, but it’s endearing. So tell us a little about yourself.

G: I’m a Virgo who likes long walks on the beach, romantic candle lit dinners, and coffee and conversation.  What do you want to know?

S: What do you do for fun?

G: In my spare time I enjoy reading, watching old television shows from the 80s and 90s, and cooking dinner for my friends, family, and my beautiful girlfriend. I also collect 17th century Russian nesting dolls and practice several forms of lethal martial arts. Ok, those last two are made up, but didn’t sound very interesting without them.

S: What do you do for work (remember the first rule of blogging about work: don’t do it! Or in this case, be vague)?

G: I am a chef in training, learning my craft both in the classroom and in the workplace.

S: What are your future plans?

G: To get married, have 2.3 kids, buy a 4-bedroom home with a quarter acre of lush green grass that I’ll mow every Saturday morning, and eventually grow fat and bald. Seriously? I’m really not sure yet. I want to make food and be happy, but I’m still not completely sure how that’s done. I’m getting the hang of the be happy part though.

S: What’s your favorite thing about Shannon?

G: Her booty. Also the way she makes me feel appreciated and compliments me.

S: Why do you love Shannon so much?

G: Her booty. Also the fact that she is herself, for better or worse (mostly better), and isn’t afraid to be funny or weird.

S: On a scale of 1 to 10, how beautiful is Shannon?

G: Shannon’s booty? Ok…sorry. I got on a roll. Shannon is either a 1 or a 10, depending on which is the best number.

S: Oops, that got a little Shannon-focused. Sorry. Let’s try again. Why did you name your cat Oberon?

G: He was a stray, and my college roommates and I heard him meowing outside our apartment whilst drinking a bottle of Bells Oberon beer. Thank you beer for helping me name my cat. Just one of your many wonders.

S: Isn’t Oberon the cutest cat in the world?

G: He’s pretty darned cute, but cat people are pretty loyal, and I wouldn’t want to offend any of your readers by implying that their cats aren’t as cute as mine.

S: Oh please. They’re not as cute, accept it people. So how happy are you that Shannon loves your cat so much?

I’m very happy. I was really hoping not to have to choose between her and Oberon, so that’s nice. As stated, he’s pretty cute, and he reminds me of my favorite beer, so it might have been a tough call. But then there’s the booty. So, who knows?

S: Crap, why is this becoming all about Shannon (and her booty) and Oberon? Back to you. What’s your favorite book?

G: Books. The Dark Tower series by Stephen King. It was a 5,000 page, 3 month part of my life, and I can still remember parts of it vividly.

S: Movie?

G: Confessions of a Shopaholic. Seriously? Who can choose. My favorite director is probably Cameron Crowe, if that says anything.

S: TV Show?

G: Either “The Office” or “30 Rock.” Or maybe “Family Guy.”

S: Who is your hero?

G: Spiderman. This one’s not a joke…he’s freakin’ rad.

S: I didn’t know about that last one. Um… What other oddities or quirks should we know about?

G: I have an adventurous appetite (remember the Chicago sushi incident?). [Ed. note: he won't eat a frozen tater tot though. Hello, yum.]

S: And finally, do you play basketball?

G: Yes. All tall people do. Anyone that meets me should ask me about it. But seriously, I get this question all the time, often from total strangers, seconds after they meet me by awkwardly asking me how tall I am. I get it. I’m unusually tall. But that doesn’t automatically mean that I play basketball. It also doesn’t mean that I play volleyball, that I’m a good pitcher, that I’m an Olympic high jumper, or that I like anything else that tall people might be better at. It just means that I’m tall. And it’s not something I enjoy making small talk with strangers about. I don’t saunter up to you in the frozen foods aisle at the grocery store, gawk at you, and point out your most obvious physical feature. “Hey…you’re fat.” Would that be considered good manners? Come on people. There, it’s out of my system, I feel better.

[Ed. Note: I asked him that knowing he'd rant. He gets that all the time! I think it's hilarious, but he's pretty much over it. Which is part of what makes it so damn funny of course.]

I had a chat today with a friend and fellow blogger who also keeps her boyfriend’s identity rather covert on her blog. That prompted me to give some thought to whether or not I want to reveal the Giraffe’s identity more than I already have. You may have noticed that I’ve never revealed his real name or picture on this space, but those who know me on the social media sites have gotten a little taste of who he is.

I started out keeping it quiet because it was new and I didn’t know where things would go for us. Then things got really serious, yet I still didn’t reveal much. I really can’t explain why – it’s not that I was worried about jinxing it or that I felt like I needed to protect him. I think after laying so much of my life out in the open (hello public breakup last year), maybe I liked leaving something a bit mysterious.

But now that the Giraffe is involved in so much of my life, it’s hard to keep him a big secret. It’s easy enough to call him by his nickname rather his real one, but lately whenever I post photos of my goings on, I have to carefully pick out ones that don’t include him. So enough of that. You guys ready to see what my boyfriend looks like?

Ta da!

Cute huh? Ok kidding. Sorta. That really is him, but only when he put on a pair of faux glasses and struck a ridiculous pose. (Don’t worry I got permission to post that for all the Internet to see.) Here are a few where he looks more like himself:

Top left: At the grocery store. He was so cute I had to capture it.
Top right: Our very first picture together. He came over to bake me a belated birthday cake.
Bottom left: On one of our early dates.
Bottom right: Modeling a hat we found at my dad’s house. This one is also displayed in my office at work.

So that’s the Giraffe. And in case you didn’t guess, his nickname derives from that fact that he’s sort of a slender giant – 6′8″ to my meager 5′5″.

And that’s with me wearing three inch heels. Look how dorky he is with his pant leg tucked into his shoe. So cute.

Stay tuned for a little FAQ with the man himself coming soon.