“I don’t dare if Monday’s blue. Tuesday’s grey and Wednesday, too. Thursday, I don’t care about you. It’s Friday, I’m in love.”

I’m bouncing in my chair, folks, with Robert Smith serenading me in my head. A while ago, I posted a YouTube thingie on my blog, after humbly asking directions from AJ. I’ve since not only forgotten his instructions but long ago deleted the e-mail from my inbox and am too embarrassed to ask him again, so if you aren’t familiar with the song, “Friday, I’m In Love”, you’re just going to have to look it up yourself. Oh, but it’s such a neat video. And such a great song. Damn this pride nonsense…

“Monday you can fall apart. Tuesday, Wednesday break my heart. Thursday doesn’t even start, it’s Friday, I’m in love.”

It’s Friday, October 10 and my boy will be here tonight. Okay, well, technically, it will be tomorrow morning…early, early, EARLY tomorrow morning…but I’m not that nit picky. I think that early Saturday morning totally counts as Friday night and I’m rolling with it. The point is that he’ll be here in less than twenty four hours, no more sleeps to count and I’m excited. He’s a bit disappointed by the fact that the rugrats won’t be here for the weekend, but I’m not. I get him all to myself, I do! And I can hardly wait. Sure, we have a fair bit to do on Saturday, what with the inspection from Canadian Tire pending and then a mad dash to the registration office afterwards to * finally * get that car registered in my name but then we’ll be all done. And then I’ll really have him all to myself.

Have I mentioned that I’m a little excited?

“Saturday, wait. And Sunday always comes too late. But Friday never hesitates.”

Because the boy is coming to spend the weekend with me, I have to get moving. I really do. I can’t sit here on the computer all fucking day long. Because this Friday is also PRIMP DAY. And what is Primp Day, you wonder? It’s the day of beautifying that I always go through right before I’m scheduled to see Don. If I’m flying out to see him, I spend the day before primping myself in preparation. And if he’s coming to see me, I spend the day of primping and pampering.

Now, I already know what you’re thinking. I can see the looks on your faces. You’re exchanging glances with one another, I know. “Hmmm…if they’re so in love, how come she feels she has to primp herself before her visit? Why doesn’t she feel he’d accept her the way that she is? That’s not good!” And you’re right. You’re absolutely right, each and every one of you. But like most things here in Janet Land, there is a method to my madness.

It’s true, I used to get really paranoid right before I saw Don. I’d be scared I wouldn’t be pretty enough. I was scared he wouldn’t like what he saw after being away from it for so long. I was scared that I wouldn’t live up to the expectation. He never, not even once, gave me any reason to think this. I made it up in my little brain. And I know it’s silly, but I couldn’t help it. I’d be filled with an overwhelming fear for at least two days before I’d see him. And that’s how Primp Day started. But back then, Primp Day was not a fun time. Not at all. It was fucking horrible, actually. Because then I added to my paranoia the stress of not primping well enough. The toes wouldn’t look good. The polish would clump. I couldn’t remove as much hair as I thought I should. That kind of thing. And there was more than one time that I was actually reduced to tears over the primping process. I think it was mostly because I’m not much for primping the rest of the time.

But Don would tell me to just let it go. Leave it all. Don’t do anything. Which, while I knew was his way of telling me to relax and that he loved me no matter what, only made things worse.

The truly strange thing is that while I’m with Don, I relax completely about my appearance. I stagger onto his little deck first thing in the morning in boxer shorts and a hoodie, the hood pulled up over my head to hide my Medusa like hair, no make up on and huge bags under my eyes. I scamper around his apartment in ratty pajama pants. I often put off showering to sneak in some extra time in bed with him so I often stink on top of it all. And I take my sweet ass time getting ready in the mornings while he’s here, just like it was any other morning.

Oh, sorry…Robert has something he’d like to say…

“I don’t care if Monday’s black. Tuesday, Wednesday, heart attack. Thursday never looking back, it’s Friday, I’m in love.”

Now where was I?

Oh yes…the primp days of months gone by.

Once I realized that I was only ever paranoid about the first impression I was going to make, things started to make sense. Let’s see if I can explain it.

Don and I often go weeks without seeing one another. This visit is kind of an exception because it’s only been a week, but the rest of the time, it can be upwards of a month or even more in between face to face contact. So it gets a little built up. And while I would love him no matter what, even if he showed up to the airport in sweat pants and a stained t-shirt, it’s nice that he makes an effort, too. Basically, our first meeting after being away from each other for a few weeks is like a big first date. Or even a second date. And a little primping is in order because each meeting is a special occasion. Make sense? I don’t imagine that I’ll be paranoid about what I look like in front of him years from now when there isn’t any distance separating us. But for right now, each first sight is special. And thus, the desire to give it special attention is born.

I’ve stopped wanting to cry about it. Now I think it’s kind of fun. And it makes me feel prettier and sexier and all of the good things you want to feel before you have a “date” with someone you really like.

And I know that if I run out to his car tonight around the one thirty mark, with body hair sprouting out all over the place and my toenails overgrown and in need of new polish, stinking to high heaven with my hair standing up on end, he will still kiss me and look at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. Like it’s the first time anyone has really seen me.

And the rest will melt away.

“Monday you can hold your head. Tuesday, Wednesday, stay in bed. Or Thursday, watch the walls instead, it’s Friday, I’m in love. Saturday…wait. And Sunday always comes too late. But Friday never hesitates….

Dressed up to the eyes…it’s a wonderful surprise…to see your shoes and your spirits rise. Throwing out your frown…and just smiling at the sound…and as sleek as a shriek spinning round and round. Always take a big bite…it’s such a gorgeous sight…to see you eat in the middle of the night. You can never get enough…enough of this stuff… it’s Friday, I’m in love!”