I’m writing this Sunday night, while I’m rather pleasantly worn out from spending a really lovely weekend with Roman.
My actual birthday is tomorrow, but this was our observation of my birthday, and Roman informed me he was going to spoil me rotten all weekend long.
And thus he proceeded to do just that. Friday night, he took me to one of my favorite restaurants: The Frontier Room. Because you can take the girl out of
Then he took me to see “Stranger Than Fiction”, which was, without a doubt, one of the most subtly brilliant movies I’ve seen in a while. The writing is great, the camerawork is great, the use of visual imagery is perfect, and the performances are stellar. I mean, sure, you can always count on Dustin Hoffman and Emma Thompson to turn in good work, but I think Will Farrell should get an Oscar nomination for his performance in this film. I had no idea he could do anything other than broad comedy - but he can, and well. I think I particularly enjoyed STF since I myself am a writer and I come from a family thickly populated with writers, but it’s just an excellent movie overall.
Saturday we stayed in bed until, oh, about 1pm. Then we went downtown, had a little early dinner, window-shopped a bit, and then came home to prepare to go out clubbing. Roman had actually never been out dancing at a gay bar until I took him earlier this year, and we had great fun, so off we went to do it again. It was a blast, we danced our little butts off, and Roman was so my big gay boyfriend. A very nice man who works out at my gym was also there, and he told me several times how fabulous I was. I’m unclear if he was telling me that because he recognized me as Mistress Matisse, or if he recognized me me from the gym. (Although when I’m at the gym, what I mainly am is just sweaty.) Or maybe he didn’t recognize me at all, but was just spontaneously acknowledging my intrinsic fabulousness? Hard to say. But whatever it was, it was sweet and I felt very complimented.
And then we stayed in bed again very late Sunday. Mmmmnnn…
The Roman-spoiling-Matisse weekend also included: foot massages, gummi bears, opening cars doors for me, face massages, chocolate doughnuts, and a lot of really amazing conversation about life, love, being outlaws, ambitions, and our relationship.
Of course, he isn't even giving me my actual official birthday present until Tuesday. At least, that’s what he thinks. Me, I think I got the gift this weekend.