The Pedestal

Ten months into our relationship, Brown and I experienced a month-and-a-half of pure bliss. No abusive outbursts that left me sobbing uncontrollably. Just good times, sweet times. With just a hint of salt, because Brown without his salty side would be like me not wearing my heart on my sleeve.

First, there was my first, last and only truly romantic Valentine's Day. I spent my rent money on a new dress.

The Dress

Brown wined and dined me at a nice restaurant in West Hollywood. A few tables over, a TV starlet and her friends were dining. But all eyes were on me and Brown, a gorgeous black couple in love.

The night before, he had teased me with what he knew I wanted more than anything in the world.

"Where do you drive to see your chiropractor?" he asked.

"Tustin."

"Next month, you and I are going to have to take a trip out to Tustin, but I won't tell you why. You'll have to figure it out."

I wondered aloud if he was going to curse out my natural-remedy doctor, whom Brown thought of as a quack.

He laughed, while I kept wondering what in the world was in Tustin.

Then it hit me.

"THE WORLD'S LARGEST ENGAGEMENT RING STORE IS IN TUSTIN!"

"What's that? You want a ring?"

His birthday was a few days later. I gave him a letter: "40 Ways I Love My Brown on his 40th Birthday." It was a long list, ranging from the pornographic to the sweet to the practical. I sprayed it with perfume and put lipstick kisses all over the envelope.

He loved it.

I even shared with him my dream about writing and starring in a one-woman show, and this time, he was actually encouraging. "Write about your dad and write about your porch and write about your mom and write about Best Friend's mom, but don't write about all your loser boyfriends, or people will get judgmental and think you're a nut."

(Ooops. Tee hee. Guess I didn't heed that advice.)

We spent lazy, conflict-free time together. Like the night we watched George Carlin's standup comedy special, "You Are All Diseased." After one great joke too many, Brown got so beside himself that he literally jumped off the couch, ran through the whole apartment, returned to the living room and flopped on the floor. Half-naked and howling with laughter.

And the time I stopped by his place after work and hung out for a couple of hours. I put on my coat to go home, and he attacked me. We broke in his dining room table, and I was the three-course meal. I stayed the night and slept like a baby, only to get seconds and thirds in the morning.

"Do you think we'll still be doing this when we're 80?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "Only slower."

I wondered if it was possible to be a virgin even after you'd run out of fingers and toes to count all the men you'd messed around with. Brown made me feel like a brand-new woman, like I'd never known sex before I'd known him.

He was the center of my whole world, but I was also beginning to understand that he couldn't fulfill all of my emotional needs. He could never be Best Friend, the person I shared all my confidences with. He'd never be a woman, and he'd never understand.

But as far as men went, he was tops.

(Brown Diaries Part 11 of 18: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 | Lessons Learned 1-3: 1 2 3)

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