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Part 18
New York, Sunday, February 27

10:07 a.m.
Whoever said domesticity is bliss, if anyone did in fact say that, hit the nail right on the button as far as I'm concerned. I have come to this realization as I sit here writing to you dear diary, my back against fluffy pillows, tangled bed sheets wrapped around my body, wearing a pair of sexy silk tank and shorts which I have officially exchanged for my Scooby sleepwear, and listening to Peerooz humming in the kitchen while he prepares us a nice Breakfast in Bed.

I have loved playing house for the past two weeks, going for groceries together, choosing a menu and cooking it when we are not having foodfights in the kitchen... Renting three really good videos and never watching a single second (Couch is too comfortable!). Reading The New York Times to each other in bed, when we come to funny stories which we think will interest the other. Going for walks in the evening, braving the cold because we have each other to keep us warm. At one point, while I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom (a brush that Peerooz bought for me "for our place"), I heard some banging and clanking noises coming from the bedroom. Running in with toothpaste still foaming on my lips, I saw that my honey had taken out the two first drawers of his dresser and emptied their contents.

-- "Peerooz! What ever are you doing?"

He looked at me with puppy eyes.

-- "Oh... I just thought... Maybe you could use the top two drawers so you don't have to keep carrying that heavy overnight bag..."

This is one of those moments where I feel like Xena Warrior Princess. I seriously consider doing summersaults in the air and uttering my victorious warrior princess cry (ULULULULULULU). Have I really tamed this Iranian playboy? Was he EVER a playa anyway? It is hard to believe when I look at him standing there with his yellow Happy Face drawers (a horribly ugly gag gift from me that I never expected he would ever use!) with his deer caught in the headlights expression, holding a half-empty drawer in the middle of a messy room.

Thursday March 3

10:12 a.m.
Last night, I couldn't get to sleep but I stayed as still as I could because Peerooz is such a light sleeper. After about 15 minutes of me playing dead, he finally exclaimed:

-- "Azizam, cherA khAbett nemiyAd?"

I was stunned.

-- "How did you know? I wasn't tossing and turning in the slightest was I?"

-- "No, you weren't honey."

-- "Then how did you know?"

-- "Your breathing, sweetheart, I could hear that you are not asleep."


Another Xena Warrior Princess moment. Are you ACTUALLY telling me my Peerooz can identify my various breathing patterns? Is this the sign of a selfish egotistical playa or the ultimate evidence of Love and Attention? Feel so ecstatic... Right, this deserves a BIG reward... I mean... as long as we are both awake... hehehe...

Saturday March 5

12:30 p.m.
Whole gang went to see Manny's gig at this basement place in the West Village. Her style is so simple yet haunting, electrifying. When she is on stage, sitting on her chair, playing her guitar, I almost don't recognize her. Gone is the sarcastic mouth, the steel will, the unflinching and unforgiving attitude. This Manny is so vulnerable, so fragile. Every word of her songs, every note of her guitar, is raw, naked truth. Between the things I have discovered in Peeroz and that performance last night, I wonder if we truly know anyone, even our closest friends? Just when you think you know them better than they know themselves, they manage to surprise us!

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