Home Adulting Part II: the Amazing Race to the Superbowl of Life

Part II: the Amazing Race to the Superbowl of Life


When we last left off, the Boyfriend and I were standing in the hallway of the apartment building of our rented flat with no way to get inside…door locked with no key to open the already aforementioned broken lock in this post.

Go get caught and then come back…

The defining moments where couples are made or broken, are in moments just like this. Moments where raging fights can erupt from finger pointing and silly blame that can escalates into something awful. Been there done that and bought the t-shirt. Calmly calling the first all night locksmith on Yelp I sulked down the stairs to the street where the Boyfriend waited. Waiting cause he forgot the door to the building locked and well since we had no access to the flat we were stuck without a bathroom. I think from there y’all can figure it out. My mind was fluttering with frustration. My patented sighing began. Mama is just like her Papa. I inherited the family sigh. All I could think about was the extra money it was going to cost, how tired I already was and how nothing ever seems to go right. The whole evening had been fantastic and now this. This fucking bump in the road was ruining my night.

Sitting in the dark on a street in the middle of the city, I tried to find the calm place in my noggin. In rare form, the Boyfriend was there with the best words to ease my Libra brain. And it worked for the most part. Reminding me that this would make a great story. Sitting in the dark on that tiny fence with my ass exposed to the freezing cold bricks as my dress fluttered in the breeze, I let the words just flow into my head and remind my heart that there was nowhere else I would rather be.

Fifty-four minutes later the locksmith arrived. I instructed him to please be quiet since it was so late and he nodded his head in agreement. I felt the stress begin to wash away. The pressure of being stuck without gear in a hallway waiting for it to be early enough in the morning to call the flat owners began to melt away. I kept playing the drama over and over in my head. And finally here was the locksmith to rescue me from my own over-dramatic brain. Quietly, I took the first step up the stairs and behind a baby elephant locksmith stomped up the steps. Much less quiet than I had imagined. And more like a sledgehammer. My stress melted into fear we’d be discovered by a judgey neighbor who’d tell on us to the flat owners. I turned to look at him in disapproval but he seemed to be concentrating on the each step like he was terrified it would suddenly turn into an escalator and he would be eaten up by it. Okay, maybe not but still he took those steps like his legs were tree stumps filled with fracking lead.

As the Boyfriend and I exchanged glances, I tried to express how much this was not what I had hoped. The locksmith fiddled with his lock picking gear. Failed. He dropped his tools. Failed. He tried several different lock picky items. Failed. Finally as my heart was beating in my ears, he settled on the giant credit card thingy and success! That’s right we paid money for a man to climb out of bed and open a door with a GIANT ASS CREDIT CARD THING!!! Shit I could’ve done that. Why didn’t I think of that? I have a shit ton of plastic in my wallet. Oh right, I was busy panicking and freaking out. My bad. Once done he needed to charge the credit card for the rest of the balance. I stood outside again with the Boyfriend, while my ass was again freezing in the Bay Breeze. Fifteen minutes later, after the locksmith was done with writing down all the information, which I fear may have included my measurements as well, we were done.

Once back in the flat it was like it never happened. We were back to the floating and celebrating and feeling like Rock Stars. We have a way of doing that.

Here’s the thing…the Boyfriend and I have managed to work out a means of being the calming force in each other’s moments of need. This moment could have easily turned into something awful. Seeing how I swore off traveling with people I date. I was smidgen apprehensive about the trip anyway. The Bio and I traveled together a bunch of times and once I almost left him floating on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Tiny things have a habit of becoming bigger things. Finger pointing can turn happy people into homicidal maniacs. Not that the Boyfriend and I don’t argue or disagree, he is usually wrong unless Google says different, we are just able to make it work without murdering each other.

This adventure was full of amazing. My Boyfriend is amazeballs. It didn’t matter that we flew in a way I’m not used to doing. It didn’t matter that we couldn’t find a hotel in the area I love. It didn’t matter that we ran into giant bumps into the road to accomplishing our goals. This was classic fantastic travel story material, and it was all us. Next time we travel we have agreed Mama will book everything. And upon landing back in So Cal, Mama firmly put back on her Princess Crown and left the Big Girl Boots on with them. Cause I’ll be damned if I can’t do both and still be Me.


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