For Every Problem, There's a Solution.

This is Steve. Cute solution, right? And he reads. And writes. Is quite talented, actually. Funny. Acerbic. Smart. Big muscles. And tools, to boot. We're friends. I know, I know. All my friends ask: why don't you date him? Well, here's a shocker folks, the guy you date, has to want to date you back. Me? I'm an expert at doing it the other way around. My New Year's resolution? To actually be with men who want to be with me. That's a lovely concept. Ones who make promises they keep. And I think with this New Year, I could even tolerate flowers or a flower... a sprig? every so often from someone I'm with. The only guy I've ever been involved with who's brought me flowers is my ex, Paul. He showed up with them on the first date. I was at a loss. And when he pulled over at the side of the road after our first date to tell me that he was thinking of me (this was before cell phones, mind you... which also shows just how long ago my flower/adoration situation was-- not to mention the bigger effort he had to put in to use his blinker and get to the side of the road), I thought there was something wrong with him. I wasn't used to such things. Paul? Well, once we broke up, I went into therapy. Because quite simply, he was a good guy and I had no idea what to do with him. Now? Paul just told me he got engaged. I'm incredibly happy for him. He's a great guy. She's very lucky. Whoever she is. No, I'm not pining. I'm just telling it like it is. We had our time in the sun or moon or whatever the lighting happened to be at the time. And I learned from it. And am thankful for it. Oh, he's also in a Lexus commercial right now. Thought I should plug him. Yes, he's an actor. And the commercial? It's national. Which is good for him. Again, a talented guy. His time is coming... I know it. Truly. He's worked alot. Now he just needs the real job. We all know what that's like.

Okay, so back to Steve. The first guy ever to use his tools for my benefit. Not in that way, although I meant it to sound that way. Such the kidder, I am. The other ones used their tools for their benefit and I picked up the scraps. My fault. I know. Am I sharing, too much? Anyway, my closet situation was a disaster. I had clothes on the floor. I had nowhere to hang things. And you all know how much I make. It's not like I'm talking an unrealistic amount of clothes. Still, my shit was everywhere and I was frustrated. Not to mention, I was a bit too excited to get it all done, went to the lumber store and bought stuff all prepared to fix it myself but apparently, Home Ec did me wrong. I should have taken woodshop. I didn't consider that hangers need room to hang, no matter how perfect the pole fits. Hmm, kind of a metaphor for life. You think? So after a good cry, I had no idea what to do. I was ready to just nail a hunk of wood in an obscure place, attach the pole, and go from there. But Steve wouldn't have it. Because he had a better idea. And one aesthetically pleasing. Very exciting. He fixed my closet and Kelly's closet and didn't want a thing from us. Amen.

Now Steve? He's a nice guy. Sure, he looks like a hot, bad boy. Sure, he needs to cut his hair (I tell him this all the time-- well, not all the time. Once and then I let it go. He likes it. What can you do?). But he follows through. He's there. The ex-convict? Well, when he was living with me, he promised closet help. Among other things. And so did the fireman. There have been other promises from other guys, too. And the cool thing about Steve is this: he's always been there and he's always kept his word. He was there when I got dumped. Got dumped badly. Had a crazy woman I swapped apartments with so I could go live in New York ruin my place, change the locks and break my furniture. And then had Steve playing bodyguard alongside the police-- ready to kick some crazy lady ass. As it turns out, she was gone and left my place a disaster and left me with a bill I couldn't afford to pay (which is a wild story for another day). And Steve? He hugged me when I cried. We met when I helped him with his script. He sold it. And he's been a writer ever since. He bought me couches as a thank you. I still have them.

So all of this. Him. My friends who have been there. I think of how lucky that makes me on a daily basis. Even though I have pity parties every now and then-- which I freely share. I don't take anyone for granted. I'm very aware of how unusual it is for a person in my place to have such great people surrounding them. When the shit hits the fan. Which in my life is a constant. Sorry, but true. They're there. They don't go away. So here's a shout out to all the solutions to my problems. All the people who make the problems seem smaller. This may be corny, but if I wait for a book to come out, some of you might be staring at the ground. Ha! Kidding.

So thank you...

Romy, Kelly, Diane, Stephanie, Carla, Caren, Kristine, Kate, Steve, Brian, Mom, Michael, Julie, Diane, Kelly (no I'm not drunk, I just know a lot of people with the same name!), Quentin, Tina, Laura, Paul, Cheryl, Lisa, David, Sarah, Wileen, Louisa, Janice, Robert, Rodney, Linda & Mike, and Cacey. You're the ones left standing. The better half of what's left.

And to the friends who I miss and who I'm not close to any longer-- for whatever reason, I appreciate you, too...! You've made a difference. Really.

And if I left anyone out, I suck.

And FYI, this is not a suicide note. I'm just feeling thankful. A nice closet and a day off will do that to a girl. And those flowers Paul gave me? Well, they did matter.