Everything remains so strange. The same yet different and always with moments of why isn’t he talking to me? Is everything ok? On the surface things have been normal I suppose. Last weekend we went to a party in Long Beach to see a long-lost friend who’s been living in Orlando and recently became engaged. It was nice to see him. Though when first “reintroduced” he looked at me in sort of shock. I suppose I’ve probably gained 40 lbs. since the last time he saw me, circa ’99 or so. And I do look a LOT different. His fiance’ looks like Uma Thurman – all legs and straight blonde hair.

Everyone else was planning to stay at the party all night so I’d driven my car separately. I left about 11:30 p.m. I don’t think the husband was too thrilled with that (one point subtracted from my weekly “socializing score” – note: I’m being sarcastic.) And my “ever faithful and lovely friend” C was a bitch as usual about my leaving so early - something about being “looser” or whatever. But I wasn’t about to keep drinking and drive the 405 back up to Santa Monica anytime close to 2 a.m. when the bars close and the cops swarm.

I’m trying to keep perspective. Our trip to Belize is completely planned and paid for – so our being together is at least somewhat gauranteed until our return in December. Right? I mean, he can’t very well ditch me before then?

I haven’t told my parents about what’s going on. The last thing I want is my step-dad acting like an asshole and having a “talk” with Rob. Or, and I suppose this is the more realistic scenario and the one I really don’t want to deal with, the parents having the “talk” with me. Because probably the One Thing I’ve Actually Done Right in their eyes is marry him.

Every evening I go home. Make dinner. Make conversation. Watch television. Try to be as happy as possible on the surface. Tonight we’re going to the Hollywood Bowl with “the friends” and without a doubt I’ll get several jabs from C about how fantastic *her* marriage is. But I’m not going to focus on that. I’m going to smile and be as happy and cheerful as I can be. It might require several glasses of wine and maybe a few Benedryl (currently the only drug I have) but I’ll not let her get to me.

It’s not all gloom and doom. And really I’m trying to find a healthy balance, just here in my diary I often fall off it. This weekend we have another party – a friend who is moving back to Germany. A really great guy, a guy who understands quiet and shy people and has always been kind to me. I’m sad to see him go.

Just occurred to me that the basic crux of the situation with the husband is that we’re different people and I haven’t wanted to admit that. I always thought being different was good. He’s an Eddie Bauer wearing, ex-military, “frat boy” who loves drinking beer with his friends. And all “our friends” are the same way – everyone was most popular and most athletic in high school and college. Everyone is still like that. I never was any of that. Maybe because the jocks and the cool kids never accepted me back then I have a hard time being accepted by them now.

So completely lame to be nearly 30 and trying to survive the cool kids.