Driving in the Valley after storm clouds cleared suddenly in the late afternoon

It had been a difficult week for both of us. For my part, I was still having difficulties adjusting to domestic life in the Valley. Ben, on the other hand, is working very hard because of a confluence of demands. So he's coming home each night as late as eight. The stress is starting to show on both of us. So on Friday night, I suggested we go out for a nice meal at O Bar, a chic restaurant in West Hollywood. But the ride over the hills turned out to be tasking, since it appeared so many other people had the idea of fleeing the Valley for the evening. By the time we reached the restaurant, late for our reservation, I could see that the drive had done nothing to improve Ben's mood. And while we were negotiating seating arrangements, he sort of snapped at me, uncharacteristically. And I of course asked him why he was being so bitchy.

It's inevitable that we're going to have minor disagreements. This, in fact, was only the second time that either of us has snapped. And like the previous time (when I misbehaved when we went shopping for computer equipment), the offender quickly and profusely apologized. Neither of us want the kind of relationship where we start routinely abusing each other, and I really don't think we're heading in that direction. Still, the idea of a nice meal as a salve for a difficult week proved a bit of a non-starter.

Later that night we went to a party hosted by Bill and Stefan where we'd all been asked to wear sheer shirts. I was wearing a sleevless t-shirt made out of material that one person described as fish-net. When we walked up the street to Bill's house, from my parked car, I saw people wearing sweaters, and I suddenly got cold feet about walking in wearing my more than sheer shirt and very tight black pants (which I'd bought in Berlin). But we went in anyway, and, of course, everybody stared. Fortunately, plenty of other people were wearing sheer shirts, and I soon stopped feeling self-conscious.

One of my worries is that I'm too giving in this relationship. I veer between the motivating impulse of "true love means giving without expecting a return", and then holding back on my expressions and acts of love in fear they'll be taken for granted. On Saturday morning, I chose the latter approach, rather ignobly, and was a little distant and reserved as we went through our morning routines of gym and brunch. Ben had to work all Saturday afternoon, so I drove him to work in his convertible, and spent the afternoon bombing around West Hollywood with my good friend, John Paul. For a long while, we sat at the Abbey and I told John Paul some of what was going on; some of my anxieties and vulnerabilities. He asked how Ben had reacted to my telling him of these things, and I told him that he'd been very kind, understanding and caring. And just saying that made me feel suddenly foolish at the game-playing of the morning, where I'd been holding back through not wanting to have my affection taken for granted.

Something had changed between Ben and I when I picked him up from work around seven on Saturday evening. We both felt an abrupt return of the easy affection and joy in each other's company. We had a delicious dinner at an Indonesian restaurant near Ben's university (Ben's Dad is Indonesian, so Ben knows the cuisine inside out), and then spent a happy forty-five minutes in Borders looking at interior-design books, getting excited at what we might eventually do in the (as yet, unidentified) house we're hoping to buy in the Hollywood Hills. Then we drove home to get changed for our first big night out clubbing in three weeks.

This would be our first time going out clubbing since we entered our domestic phase. We've always had such a good time going out dancing together. We spend most of the time holding each other, or dancing very close. Would it be the same now that we were getting more used to each other? I needn't have worried. It was just like all the other times; a time of fun, and affection, and mingling with our friends. Afterwards, back home, as usual after clubbing, we lit candles and had great sex into the wee hours.

Sunday was a nice, quiet day for us. We got up very late, and didn't really do a great deal apart from brunch, and looking at open houses in the Hollywood Hills. We felt very close to each other, and in the evening, fell asleep together on the sofa while reading the New York Times. How domestic, and yet how comforting. And I experienced a personal triumph that night: I slept almost a full night's sleep in Ben's bed without resorting to medication. It's always been a problem for me to sleep with somebody else. So each night, I've tried to fall asleep with Ben, in his bed, and then moved into the guest room after an hour or two, unable to sleep. I always get back into bed with him in the morning for some cuddling before we get up. But both of us wished that we could routinely spend the whole night together without my having to sacrifice my sleep. So Sunday night was an unexpected triumph for me, which will hopefully set a trend. I slept with him again last night, and while I didn't sleep particularly well, I at least didn't lie awake the whole night long.

So the great experiment of domestic life with a boyfriend continues. I'm still having ups and downs. Yesterday, I spent the day in the Valley, starting to organize my permanent move down here, which now looks like happening on Nov 19th. And I find that when I spend the whole day in or around Ben's house, I feel down, so I'm trying to avoid that. However, I've so much to do to get this move organized, so here I am again, in the Valley.