I am a terrible blogger – there. I admit it. <breathes sigh of relief>

I have gone the way of many of those before me – who have a blog that perhaps is not entirely about relationships, but it’s the craziness of romance in this District that certainly makes it interesting. And I find myself – not without things to say or news to share, certainly, but events and thoughts which would probably lack any sort of dramatic twist or entertainment value for my darling readers.

And for some reason while I have absolutely no trouble writing and ranting about my pain, sadness, frustration, indignation or anger – I have trouble expressing or sharing any feelings of love or happiness.

I believe It’s something akin to feeling guilty for one’s financial success when others they are close to are still struggling. Yes! That’s it! I feel guilty about my relationship. I feel guilty telling my friends about how happy I am, how wonderful the Russian is, all the wonderful things we are planning and all the fun we have --- because they are still on Match.com, subjecting themselves to the 6^th circle of Hades that IS online dating in this town.

It’s like saying to a poor intern – look at my new suede Pradas while they try to conceal their payless specials! And I KNOW that my friends are happy for me. I know that they want me to be happy and they couldn’t love the Russian more but....

Much like a truck driver receiving the largest lottery payout in history….I am uncertain how to properly handle my newfound emotional wealth and the fact that it puts me into a brand new relationship tax bracket. Being single for so long and seeing many friendships lost to couple-dom, I am afraid of becoming that which I have long despised – one of those women who discard their friends the moment they have a little consistent male attention, can’t have an intelligent conversation that doesn’t begin with ‘guess what george said’, or ‘no I’m sorry, I can’t have a girls night because my boyfriend needs me to sit at home with him and trim his back hair’

So I’m learning to handle not only a relationship, but myself in a relationship as well as taking care not to neglect those relationships that are already firmly in place.

Typically speaking, I rarely fall victim to the raging red monster of PMS. ‘Twas not always the case. Flash back to any given month at Notre Dame Prep circa 1997 and you’d find a tartan wearing Scarlett doubled over in pain and bitchier than a second place prom queen. However thanks to the miracles that are Midol and OrthoEvra those inconveniences have been no more than a distant memory.  That was…until last night.

I was tired all day for no apparent reason and so I welcomed a quiet evening consisting of dinner with my roommate and curling up on my couch, under a blanket, with my cat and Soprano re-runs on A&E. Around 10 I decided I’d had enough and hauled my pajama-clad ass to bed and called the Russian to say ‘goodnight’.

We were chatting about this and that – nothing of particular importance and to be perfectly honest, my mind wasn’t entirely focused on what he was saying. Instead I started thinking about this and that and (even now I’m trying to reconstruct my exact thought process, so bear with me)…

I was laying on my side, looking at my TV (which was turned off), thinking about saying ‘goodnight’ to him so I could turn on a movie, put the sleep timer on and let the background noise lull me to sleep.

Then all of a sudden it dawned on me…..he’s far away now…but what about when he moves here? Am I going to get any alone time? Do I prefer my alone time to being with him? I LOVE my alone time! What does this say about our relationship? And then what if, years from now, we get married….THEN I'LL HAVE TO LIVE WITH A BOY!!!  And I won’t be able to lay in bed and watch movies! I’ll have to entertain him all the time!

Meanwhile, he’s still chatting on about basketball and McDonald’s Shamrock Shakes while this inner monologue is screaming inside my head. And I know what you're thinking...'this post can only end in tears!' Well...wait for it...

Then my eyes drifted across the room to where I have a pink, wooden “S” that has hung on my bedroom wall since childhood. It has followed me to college and every apartment that I’ve ever had and I thought “I’m in a serious relationship with this man. If we live together someday, does that mean that my childhood will be over? I don’t want to grow up!! I don’t want to get old! Because if I grow up, I can’t be my daddy’s little girl anymore! I MISS MY DAD”

*Scarlett starts to cry*

*Russian realizes his girlfriend is sobbing on the other end of the phone, stops his diatribe about imported Russian beer* and says: ‘what’s the matter!?’

*Scarlett is literally sobbing at this point* “I have to go”

*Russian slightly bewildered*: “Why?”

“I have to call my dad! I NEVER SEE MY DAD! He never has time to talk to me on the phone! I WANT TO GO HOME! I’ll call you back”

*Click*

*Press Speed Dial 5*

*Dad sees Scarlett’s mobile number “Yes?”

*Sob “Daddy?” – she says choking in between sobs

"Oh my god, Scarlett! What’s the matter!?”

*Gasp for air, sniff* “Nothing”

“Did you have a fight with your boyfriend?”

“No”

*Father utterly confused* “What’s the matter!?”

“Nothing! I just miss you!”

“Were you watching Father of the Bride again?” (This movie always makes me miss my dad, and I call him after every time I see it)

“No – I just miss you!”

*Realizing his child has gone slightly off the deep end, replies cautiously as to avoid sudden movements around a crazy person* “Well....you’re coming to Dallas next month!?”

*Sob again* “I know but I just wanted to tell you that I love you”

“I love you too, Scarlett.”

I start to calm down, chat with him a bit more and say “goodnight”

Think: "what the hell is wrong with me!?"

*Realize I’m being a crazy person!* How can this be!? I’m eccentric. Yes. Emotional? At times. Passionate? Always….but Crazy? Then it dawns on me…the fatigue, the flood of emotion, uncontrollable cravings for Haagen Daz Belgian Chocolate Fudge ice cream, the rivers of tears for no apparent reason …..(cue light bulb)…it’s Period Insanity! Temporary, but full on Period Insanity!

I promptly pulled myself together, splashed some cold water on my face and called the Russian and said: “Ok! I’m normal now.” “Wha? Huh?” Poor man was baffled. And rightly so. Lucky for  me, the Russian is extremely understanding and forgiving :) (A necessary prerequisite to date me it seems).

I hope and pray this was an isolated incident and that I’m not, in fact, hormonally regressing to my teenage years. Frankly, now that I’ve identified the problem I can deal with the period insanity…but I don’t think I could survive the acne an second time.