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Dear Constanza

Chapter Text

Title: "Dear Constanza…"
Description: Because "Constanza" is what Amy calls her diary.
Fandom: The Big Bang Theory
Genre: Comedy/Romance/Angst
Characters: Amy
Author's Note: I'm toying with the idea of occasionally writing episode coda fics in the form of Amy's diary entries. I make no promises.
Disclaimer: The Big Bang Theory is an American sitcom created by Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady, and is produced by them along with Lee Aronsohn. It is a Warner Brothers production and airs on CBS. All characters, plots and creative elements derived from the source material belong exclusively to their respective owners. I, the author of the fan fiction, do not, in any way, profit monetarily from the story.
Rating: K – M (it's anyone's guess)

Dearest Costanza,

I am deeply sorry that I've neglected you in recent days, but the increased activity of my professional life, the unexpected early onset of my menses and a recent burst in social activity all combined to make me far too fatigued at bedtime to chronicle my daytime adventures. Tonight's entry will catch you up in three principal areas: current events, professional activities and my social life.

Current events:

I am rather behind in this arena, since Penny cancelled her subscription to People magazine. She says that she had to find a way to cut back on her expenses, and having to decide between cancelling Cosmo or People, there was simply no contest. Considering how well the former magazine complements her dynamic fashion sense, perky, can-do attitude and I-am-woman-hear-me-roar sexuality, I think she's made the only logical decision.

Beyond that, I did manage to catch the better portion of the State of the Union address. I found our President to be stately and charismatic as always, and he made some commitments to spend more money in the Sciences, which I found encouraging. However, I can't help but look at such events (and the politicians that attend them) and be reminded that, much like in many organized religions, the political elite make promises to take action that will enhance the common good and remedy the ills of society only to get caught in the traps of sex scandals, blind ambition and bickering among factions. I find myself growing more apolitical with each passing year.

Although, I must say that Michelle was looking especially stunning at the event. Sometimes I imagine that, in the social society of our nation's capital, she is the raven-haired equivalent of Penny: beautiful, buxom and indisputably bodacious. I salute you ma'am!

Professional activities:

As tomorrow looms, I look forward to it with a mix of excitement and extreme foreboding. While the members of our research team are thrilled to be coming ever closer to the results regarding alcoholism in high-functioning primates, I, for my part, can't help but suspect that changing the monkeys' beer brand will be met with the enthusiastic excrement-throwing that these monkeys invariably think is the only appropriate response to any life change. Whatever clothing I wear tomorrow will, without a doubt, end up in the trash heap. Sorry Bernadette, but some clothes just can't be donated. My attempts at commiseration with Sheldon on the topic only made him, in a word, laugh—an unexpected joy. This brings me, rather eloquently, to my last topic…

My social life:

You and my boyfriend have both suffered from my neglect, as Sheldon and I haven't seen much of each other this week, either. I hadn't physically been in his presence in three days when we had dinner this evening—not since we decided to suspend filming "Fun with Flags" for the time being. While I don't think a day has gone by that we haven't talked since the very first day that we met (except for those horrific days after we terminated our then-fledgling relationship) I still like spending real-world time with him. And even tonight, he was very late joining us, as he had to catch the bus home from work. Apparently Leonard has chosen to negate the major terms of the Roommate Agreement and, as a result, Sheldon must suffer. How unfair! Although, I can't help but notice that even I have, on occasion, violated a term (or two) of the Relationship Agreement, but with total impunity. Of course, it's absurd to think that Sheldon would confront me, his girlfriend, in the same fashion as his roommate. I am saddened, however, that I can't take him to the doctor's appointment tomorrow. He seemed uncomfortable when the others teased him about not "using me" for what girlfriends are really for. All the same, with more advanced notice I might have been able to arrange my affairs to accommodate him, but as it stands, there is simply no way I can leave my project on such short notice.

I got a text from him earlier tonight; apparently there is a blackout in his building. I proposed that I pick him up so he could spend the night here, but he declined my offer, saying he suspected the power outage would be remedied quickly. Currently, I am anxiously waiting for him to send me his nightly "Goodnight, Amy" text, which I should have gotten a half hour ago. His cell phone might be dead, and it's a small thing, I know, but I want it just the same. It's something I've gotten used to, and besides…

I don't believe I can get to sleep without it.

XOXO AFF

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

Forget everything I wrote yesterday. This morning he came back to the lab...

And apologized.

It took him three tries, but… he got it. And I really believe he did. No tiara this time, but I think I got something better.

Believe it or not, I'm actually looking forward to tomorrow.

XOXO AFF

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

So, turns out she did like the painting. It seems all those sorrowful tears I shed into my ever-loyal pillow were for nothing. Sheldon's efforts at comfort were neutralized when he said that he "fails to see what Penny has done to merit a gift of such value, particularly without an accompanying apology." I wouldn't expect him to understand.

Earlier today, however, Penny informed me that Bernadette was the real culprit behind the picture's removal. The future bride is playing "Cha Cha" to Penny and I's Danny and Sandy. She harbors a barely-repressed jealousy for what Penny and I have, and Penny came close to caving to her envy. How ironic, considering I am her maid-of-honor. You would think that my enthusiastic acceptance would have been confirmation enough of our relationship. Ever mindful, though, of the feelings of others, I'll be sure to be more attentive to her in the future. But no paintings. That, of course, would be too much.

Sheldon invited me to have lunch with him in his new office tomorrow. He doesn't know it, but the pre-Glee, singing hoodlums of Rydell High School will be providing the soundtrack of our lunch date. I can't wait!

XOXO AFF

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

Today in the lab, we got in a new shipment of PrimaTreats, or dietary behavioral incentives for primates that are housed in a research environment. I swear—some of the yummier names actually had me salivating. I can only hope that the Piña Colada flavor is as alcohol free as promised, as I don't think I could tolerate more "monkey business" from these creatures. Sometimes they act like caged animals, most likely because they are.

In other news, something disturbing happened last night (and I'm not referring to the torture of having to sleep on cold sheets while my dear Sheldon was just feet away in the living room). I am, however, referring to the fact that I learned that Sheldon has seen Penny naked. When Penny first mentioned it, I was unfazed (if not a bit jealous) and more preoccupied with how Sheldon's haircut situation would ultimately be resolved. But sometime around lunchtime today, my curiosity got the better of me, and I called Sheldon for more details. Dismissively, he mentioned that the incident had occurred during their now-infamous trip to the emergency room. While I have oft heard him moan of the day he was forced to drive, he had always omitted his literal run-in with her breast. And—while confident that I'm no slouch in the beauty department and that my hips certainly have a "beckoning" quality—my physique still is no match for the paragon of beauty that is Penny.

Perhaps my concerns are foolish; but—even though the bounds of Sheldon's propriety and the bylaws set forth in the Relationship Agreement have moderated our physical displays of affection—I sometimes imagine (and I hope it's not wrong) that maybe, someday, we—Sheldon and I—may… partake of the kind of love I must watch our primate cousins engage in on a daily basis without the slightest concern for social construct… or dignity of any kind.

It's not something I worry about, really, but… I do think about it, sometimes.

XOXO AFF

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

Today, my cousin Teagan told me that she would let me borrow her saddle oxfords for the day, Penny told me I could hold her hair back as she vomited, and (sigh) Sheldon told me he would accompany me to my great-aunt's birthday party. In the end, three people made promises to me, and not one of them came through on their commitments.

It was a disappointing day.

I knew that my dreams of having my feet shod with footwear associated with high school royalty (cheerleaders) would be dashed as soon as I set eyes on my cousin. With wide eyes, she threw her hands over her mouth and then mouthed—with pained expression—"I'm so sorry." Considering she recently had a baby, I imagine that her oversight was purely accidental. I was no less disappointed, however. My dissatisfaction continued as I walked into the living room proper—alone—and was immediately accosted with pleas to meet my boyfriend. With a heavy heart, I repeatedly informed the family in attendance (many of whom I haven't spoken with in quite some time) that my boyfriend was unable to attend. Apparently, news of my budding relationship has spread with a much more aggressive speed than that of Sheldon and I's little experiment. Too embarrassed to admit he preferred to play stupid online games rather than accompany me to a family gathering, I made up a much more compelling excuse: he had come down with a near-deadly infection and had to be hospitalized. Far from quelling the inquiries, it seemed to fuel rumors that I was in fact lying and Sheldon did not exist at all. Producing text messages of our conversations did nothing to convince the incredulous throngs that I do indeed have a boyfriend, and my ex-hippy Uncle Patch (who suspiciously reeked of controlled substances and patchouli) even said that they sounded like I had written the text messages to myself.

While visiting Penny proved to be something of a balm to my hurt, it seems that three beers (no matter how closely together they have been drunk) are not sufficient to induce alcohol toxicity in my flaxen-haired friend. So, instead of holding her hair as she worshipped at a porcelain altar, I spent my evening listening to her drunkenly brag about all the times she had been thrown out of restaurants after scandalizing boyfriends and dinner patrons alike with her "crazy, White girl" antics. Bernadette, for her part, had one wine cooler, then promptly fell asleep.

What I find most surprising, Constanza, is that I can't bring myself to be angry at any of these people… not really. Teagan simply forgot, Penny has been anointed with a winning LA metabolism and burly Nebraskan alcohol tolerance, and Sheldon… he can't help that he's a boy.

But sometimes I wish he could. Because all I want is to one day attend some fancy event (decorated with balloons and streamers) and march in—arm in arm—with the Dr. Sheldon Cooper. Everyone would look on—amazed and jealous—because I would have such a great boyfriend… the best boyfriend, and unlike Armand the Miniature Horse Trainer, Sheldon would be real.

I did manage to snag a piece of birthday cake for him (a corner piece, no less!) just before Uncle Patch fell face first into the punch bowl, splattering the entire kitchen (and cake) with red liquid. But in the end, I ate it somewhere between Penny's crying spell in the Olive Garden and her girl fight in Roscoe's Titty Bar. I needed that cake more than he did. Besides, if they can break promises, so can I.

XOXO AFF

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

While I love my mother dearly, there are some things about her that I simply will never understand, namely, her obsession with Chia Pets. While I am normally a champion of any endeavor that brings the scientifically disinclined closer to Biology, I find pre-seeded clay animals to be some hybrid between a vicious scam and a cry for help. Not only are they rather sad relics from the 1980s, but they are devoid of any real educational value in the realm of turf cultivation. Despite her none-too-subtle hints that she would like to get a Tweety Bird Chia for her birthday, I refuse to indulge this habit. If my mother puts one more grass-spouting piece of pottery in her ever-growing window menagerie (that regrettably includes a facsimile of Albert Einstein with alfalfa hair), I might scream.

So, how wonderful it was to spend some time around real animals at the Los Angeles Zoo. Considering his unfortunate incident with the toy Penny bought him (I know, Constanza... more toy shenanigans) Sheldon was overdue for a relaxing afternoon. I found the resident rhinoceroses to be particularly playful today and, as always, the koalas were a treat.

Beyond that (and a recent trip to the gynecologist that determined that my cervix is in sound condition) there is not much to report. Although, I should mention that Sheldon's friends seem positively giddy from Raj's recent near-miss marriage to a lesbian named Lakshmi, and have taken it as some sort of surprising confirmation that he is, in fact, not gay. I, however, have never suspected that he was. While my experience with men of the homosexual persuasion (or any persuasion) is admittedly low, I do not see his interest in so-called "chick flicks" or his cherished relationship with Howard as indicative of his desire to engage in sexual activity with men. I, too, often find myself indulging in activities more commonly associated with the opposite sex, not the least of which is my choice to work in the field of Neurobiology. And, I too know what it's like to admire a dear friend of the same sex. That woman would be Penny, of course. (Bernadette is a star in her own right, but she pales in comparison to the sun that is Penny.) Our drunken kiss aside, however, I have no plans to have sex with her. While I find her body and feminine charms to be both enviable and a work of surpassing beauty, it is Sheldon who holds my affections. Sheldon Lee Cooper is the man for me.

XOXO AFF

Chapter Text

Author's Note: Coda (and spoilers for) Episode 5.21 "The Hawking Excitation"
Rating: K+

Dear Constanza,

Since joining Twitter in January of 2010, I have found it to be a wonderful tool. I, personally, have used the micro-blogging site to publicize and discover new developments in the world of science, to stumble upon the occasional viral video, and (as of late) to keep abreast of the whereabouts of my boyfriend. However, I never imagined that the day would come when all three of these uses would converge in such a baffling fashion.

As I am currently away at a Neurobiology conference in San Francisco, naturally I have been out of the loop with the goings on back in Pasadena. Taking a much needed, mid-afternoon bathroom break (after overindulging in the free tea and coffee that the conference provides), I decided to multitask and check my Twitter feed. While emptying my bladder, I did something I rarely do: I changed my location settings to "Local" (specifying "Pasadena, California") and set about catching up on the proverbial "411" back home. Imagine my excitement to see that "#sheldoncooper" was a trending topic. However, my glee soon turned to gloom as I saw retweet after retweet of my Sheldon in what appeared to be… a French maid costume? Need I add that many a tweet was accompanied by rude, insulting and often vulgar quips. Torn between pulling up my panties and reaching out to my boyfriend, I decided to do the latter, but was disappointed when my call went directly to voicemail with the message, "No, I do not do gay cabaret, so stop calling, and yes, I will do anything to meet Stephen Hawking." Forced to wash my hands and return to my meeting, I put off pursuing the matter further.

As of the time of this writing I have yet to reach him, though when I get to the bottom of this hullabaloo, Constanza, you will be the first to know.

XOXO AFF

Chapter Text

I’ve long been resistant to wearing costumes.  Heck, I’ve long been resistant to viewing costumes.  On occasion, Sheldon has invited me to attend events where I would likely encounter persons outfitted to look like someone they were not: comic book superheroes, time-traveling humanoids, or perhaps velvet-clad tradesmen from the Fifteenth Century. I typically decline such invitations.  The Renaissance Faire, Purim and ComicCon all leave me with an uneasy feeling.  And yet, I sit here on my bed with $40 worth of blue fabric, a toy scanner I purchased from the comic book store, and Erica (the woman who made my curtains) on speed dial.  If her daughter’s homemade costume from last Halloween is any indication (a get-up which turned the tot into a dead ringer for Dora the Explorer), Erica is the perfect seamstress to transform me into a member of the Starfleet Enterprise.  What is the motive, you might ask, of my sudden conversion to the realm of disguise?

The affection of one Sheldon Cooper.

As my girlfriends around me take their relationships ever forward, I’m not ashamed to say that (as happy as Sheldon makes me) I yearn for something more.  I suspect that somewhere under his delicate ego and novelty T-shirts there lurks a fondness for a certain neurobiologist.  Yet, it is becoming increasingly evident that, when it comes to expressing that affection, he will only wake up if there’s a fire under the bed.  Thusly, I come before him bearing matches. I’ve already told you of the initial success I experienced on our last Date Night; Sheldon was positively giddy at my carefully calibrated combination of spaghetti with hot dogs, Strawberry Quik and Mario Brothers mood music.  And I couldn’t miss the glisten in his eye when I dropped him off at his apartment.  But visions of his enthusiastic dining and cheerful smile (that smile) follow me around long after he’s gone.  They accompany me to bed and fill my dreams.  They ride beside me in the car and make me see him in pedestrians walking on the street. And they sneak their way between numbers and figures on my computer screen or the lock combinations on the monkey’s cages.

Constanza, do you think he’ll ever be so similarly haunted by visions of me?

I remain hopeful. In the words of Shakespeare, let us not to the marriage of true minds admit impediment (So that British Lit class came in handy after all).  With a little help from Erica and my box of matches, let’s see what happens.

I would typically end this letter with hugs and kisses, but Constanza, I’ve decided I am not myself today.  So, ending on that note…

Live long and prosper, AFF

Chapter Text

Dearest Constanza,

I must beg your forgiveness, as many a mundane, tiring or distracting day has caused me to leave your pages forsaken and devoid of the goings-on of my life. But after a series of days as momentous as these, I frankly have looked forward to chronically the ensuing events in this treasured tome almost since the moment that they began to unfold. With a wedding, a dinner at the Wolowitz home (always a hoot) and a space launch ahead of me, excitement was all but guaranteed. Yet, even I could not foresee the thrill that would await me.

Though a disappointment in many ways and a shadow of its potential glory, the wedding still managed to be a sparkling occasion in many ways. As we were all ordained at that website that Penny recommended (that I think left a virus on her laptop) we officiated the ceremony in tandem. I prepared a statement that expressed my unwavering commitment to the event and any future nuptials, and I looked nothing short of amazing in my dress and tiara, if I do say so myself. Sheldon's comments reflected some of his perennial views on the virtues of bachelorhood, though he did wish the couple a bright future (Even still, I half wish he had stuck with his original plan of delivering his statement in Klingon). Raj, predictably, used his moment to weep and Leonard and Penny somehow found a way to make the event about them. They may be Sheldon's and my best friends, but I can't help but be dismayed by how self-centered they are at times. I guess even they are not without their flaws.

After the ceremony, we returned to Howard's place, where Mrs. Wolowitz had prepared a tasty spread of brisket with roasted vegetables and potato pancakes, which she finished off with a strawberry sorbet. That's where the charm of the event ended. Brutish and loud with choric digestive problems, she produced a repeat performance of most of her other ear-splitting soirees. The silver lining was Howard's many stinging one-liners, which tended to be witty and humorous. And then, almost as quickly as they had begun, the proceedings were over and we dispersed, but not without making plans to meet at Sheldon and Leonard's place for the launch—the only ones among us who actually have a cable package that includes the NASA channel. Defying all reason, Penny and Bernadette implored Mrs. Wolowitz to join us, but she (thankfully) refused the invitation, insisting that she couldn't bear to watch "her only child blow up into smithereens." As fatalistic as that sounded, Sheldon and I stole a look at each other, relieved that our sensitive ears would enjoy a reprieve from her incessant hollering.

In the days preceding the launch, I imagined that there might be more of a party atmosphere accompanying the event. But aside from Raj's ever-present libations, the tone of the room was somber and uneasy. Even I, the most recent member to join our social group, could not push from my mind the danger that such a launch carried, and what such danger meant for our space-bound friend. I could only imagine how his dearer acquaintances—Sheldon, Leonard, Penny, Bernadette and, most of all, Raj—were faring emotionally. As I sat in the living room, watching the countdown of Howard's spacecraft in Kazakhstan with an unwavering gaze…

Sheldon took my hand.

I have often fantasized of our first real hand hold, and invariably I imagined it would occur in some softly lit, romantic setting, perhaps on our semi-monthly Date Night. But in that moment, with fingers much stronger and brawnier than I'd ever known, I felt him reaching out to me, seeking connection as well as comfort and consolation. So taken, I was, at the gesture that I turned to look at him, and nearly missed lift-off. A moment after the shuttle cleared the stratosphere, weak cheers went up in the room, and with them, Sheldon let go, busying his hand with a water bottle on the table. But I caught him glance at me with thankful eyes, and my heart leapt.

I've replayed that moment of physical bonding in my mind innumerable times, Constanza, and every single time I feel awash with contentment and giddy with excitement. I wonder: will my skin ever stop tingling or my heart stop racing?

I hope they never do.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO AFF

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

As you well know, this evening, Sheldon and I celebrated our second anniversary and, at the close of a long evening (and after a bit of personal reflection on my part) I have come to a startling realization: front-closure bras can be deadly.

I have been absolutely smitten with the things ever since Penny first introduced them to me that fateful day last winter in Victoria Secret's. Not only are they convenient—eliminating the need to reach behind you to fasten your bra—but they also tend to be flattering to the girls (if you know what I mean, Constanza, and I think you do). However, unbeknownst to me, the front clasp came partially loose and got caught in one of the buttons on my shirt. I came quite close to dying of asphyxiation while trying to disrobe. Prior to this unfortunate incident, I had always thought the term "wardrobe malfunction" was a curious phrase, but now, having experienced such a mishap firsthand, I understand the necessity of such a term.

I imagine that you are likely waiting for me to spills the proverbial "beans" regarding my date with Sheldon, but I am tired and bit jostled emotionally. So, I will simply summarize it thusly: despite some low points (not the least of which was a visit from Raj), it ended on a high note. Coupled with Sheldon's handhold a few days ago, I don't believe I'm wrong in saying that I can sense the winds of change arriving just beyond the horizon. I can only hope they come sooner, rather than later.

Currently, however, my evening is not quite over. I sit here—clad in my comfy, flannel pajamas and snugly tucked into bed—and as soon as I finish documenting my evening in this volume, I'll attend to the bowl of delicious red velvet ice-cream that is calling to me from the nightstand. Then, I'm going to settle in and treat myself to a movie. It's a reckless thing to do, I know, and it might make me a little drowsy tomorrow at work, but I've never seen Spider-Man I before, and I think it's high time I did.

XOXOXO

AFF

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

Last night I dreamed that I was inexplicably perched atop a tall, tall stack of boxes that were prettily wrapped in silver and white paper. As the makeshift tower rocked back and forth, I became increasingly terrified at the notion that, should I lose my balance, I would tumble down and splatter my head—and its grey matter—all over the ground below. On the heels of this realization, I noticed that Reginald (the geriatric monkey in our lab who died last week after having the fortune—or misfortune—of participating in no less than twenty experiments) was standing on my shoulders and pouring sawmill gravy on top of my head from a gravy boat. How aggravating! My fear and irritation were allayed, however, when I saw the face of Sheldon engraved on the reverse of a four-cent coin I held in my left hand.

Upon waking, I mostly put the dream out of my mind. However, Sheldon contacted me later today to complain of his suspicions that not all of the tartar had been cleaned from his teeth. I seized the opportunity to share with him my dream. "Do you think it means anything?" I asked him, but my inquiry was met with a scoff and the assertion that it was his belief that dream analysis was "hogwash," and that all dreams were either an amalgamation of recent events in the person's life or the result of heartburn. As a trained neurobiologist who once spent a year as an assistant to a researcher involved in a comprehensive sleep study, I must say that—Sheldon is probably right, a point I conceded with some resistance.

I am writing to you earlier than usual, Constanza, as I am on my way to a Bernadette's apartment. As her husband orbits our planet at a distance of 248 miles above the earth's surface, communal socialization proves to be a challenge. So, in a show of solidarity, I proposed that we could engage in something of a long-distance double date by Skyping our significant others at the same time. Actually, I will be Skyping while she will be utilizing advanced NASA space teleconferencing technology. Semantics aside, I'm really looking forward to it. It's been a great while since Sheldon and I Skyped each other, and I rather miss it. Besides, who knows? He might even be up for a massage.

XOXOXO AFF

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

I normally would shy away from comparing Leonard and Sheldon since, despite being best friends and roommates, they are unique individuals. Leonard, by all accounts, is a charming young man and a suitable companion to Penny. Sheldon is, well, glorious. After an incident that occurred today, however, the verdict is in: Sheldon is also the better boyfriend.

After a phenomenal cosmetic session with Penny, in which she practically transformed me into the Whore of Babylon—in a good way, of course—I attempted to FaceTime Sheldon only to be greeted by his misleadingly named assistant, Alex. She informed me that he was only receiving a limited number of callers from a list that did not include me. Disturbed by this, I cold-called him with a visit to his job at lunchtime, intent on finding out the true nature of Alex's intentions with my boyfriend. I discovered, however, that the person who should be worried about Alex was not me, but Penny. While Sheldon remained impervious to her feminine wiles, Leonard was practically eating from her hands. On our way home, poor Penny was wracked with worry about the state of her relationship while I was free to make jokes based in neurobiology (I'll have to tell you one later, Constanza. It was a real knee-slapper).

After work, Sheldon called me and let me know that, upon returning to his office, his was suddenly hit with the thought that he should have included me on his limited caller list, a realization which was, no doubt, due to the fact that I spread my scent around his office, effectively "marking my territory." I asked him if he realized anything else once he returned to his office, and he said that he had: his stapler had been moved and, fearing it had been contaminated, he threw it away.

I've occasionally suspected that Penny believes that Sheldon is not generally desirable as a boyfriend. Perhaps such barbs stem from the fact that, despite knowing her for years longer than me, he never showed the slightest romantic interest in Penny while, after two years of acquaintance, we're already holding hands and—I maintain—are only one double entendre away from phone sex. What can I say, Constanza? I have that affect on him. I mean, he calls me a vixen for a reason.

XOXOXO AFF

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

I just ended a truly mystifying evening of pie eating, game playing, sexual tension and couple bickering, and I feel confident in saying that  I’ve likely never been so relieved to be returning home from what was billed as a “fun gathering of intimate friends.”  That’s right, Constanza, I’m talking about Howard’s much ballyhooed welcome back party.

Upon arriving, Sheldon and I had high hopes of reuniting with a beloved friend (that’s much more beloved by some of us, Raj) and showing him that he had our support and respect.  However, far from being greeted with a triumphant victor returning home with battle scars and tales of adventure, we found Howard to be whiny and defensive, with a laundry list of a passive aggressive snipes about how disappointing his first day back was.  Apparently his mother had been enjoying, ahem, an exciting evening with his dentist, Raj was enjoying an exciting evening with Stuart and he and Bernadette did not have an exciting evening at all.  Based on her still raging head cold (which if left untreated could travel to her brain and wreak all kind of havoc on her cognitive function), I imagine his hero’s welcome did not include coitus.  Most surprisingly, Howard reserved his sharpest remarks for a gentleman I’m unfamiliar with by the name of Howie Mandel who, according to a cursory Google search, appears to be most famous as an advocate for persons with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.  I had no idea Howard has such bitterness towards persons with neurochemical impairment. 

While Leonard and Raj groveled at his feet and made protracted declarations of his value in the group, Sheldon expressed to me his disappointment in learning that, like many things in life, real astronauts were not as glamorous as they were in the movies.  Bernadette suggested that we play Jenga, but was rebuffed when Howard said it brought back bad memories of being in zero gravity.  The abysmal night took a real nose-dive when Stuart’s casual humming of the song “Edelweiss” triggered a full-on shouting match between Howard, Raj and the beleaguered comic book salesman.

After red wine and spaghetti (with no hotdogs cut up in it), we all tensely finished off a leftover blueberry pie that Penny salvaged from our game night and then promptly left.

It was nothing like our Game Night—one of the most glorious events of recent memory, Constanza.  My entry from last night (all 3,000 words of it) cannot possibly reflect how much fun I truly had.  But my account failed to mention this intriguing tidbit I learned of today: Leonard told Penny (and Penny told me) that Sheldon later asked Leonard why he hadn’t intervened when Penny was kissing on another man.  Leonard shrugged and said he thought it was funny.  Sheldon, however, said that he wouldn’t have found it the least bit humorous if it had been Leonard and I instead.  Duly noted, Dr. Cooper ;)

XOXOXO AFF

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

It's not yet six o'clock, but I've snuck away from the living room to write to you earlier than usual because I am on the verge of an evening of food, fun, and alcohol. I imagine that, later tonight, I will be entirely too exhausted after such a thrilling evening to chat with you.

Sigh. This will be my very first Halloween Night at the comic book store! There was a time that making a trip to that place while donning a costume would sound like a perfectly awful evening. Now, however, I see it as a momentous first in Sheldon's and my relationship. After much debate and deliberation, we agreed to go as the "it" couple of Pasadena: Raggedy Ann and Raggedy CP3O. I'm giddy just thinking about it. I can't wait to see the look on everyone's faces when we enter the door.

Really, though, I must get back to Sheldon, Constanza. He is in something of an unenviable position at the moment—physically bound by inhibiting plastic attire. He told me that when he's worn robot costumes in the past, he's started with the feet first, so that his hands would be free as he outfitted himself. However, I reminded him that this time, he had my assistance. Additionally, putting on the costume from head to toe, I reasoned, was more intuitive as, after fastening the feet, he could simply walk out of the door. He was effectively persuaded, and sits in the living room as we speak—half robot and half man—wearing a full head mask, shoulder armor, an adjoining back and chest plate and, most importantly, plastic gloves. However, I confess to you, Constanza, that I had other motives for rendering him so helpless.

Next up: codpiece. The poor thing is certainly going to need my assistance. I'll be happy to give it to him.

XOXOXO AFF

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

When Sheldon first informed me that he not only had a "mortal enemies list", but that it included the minor celebrity Wil Weaton, I thought that I had—quite possibly—never heard anything so absurd in my entire life. What I now find absurd, however, is the fact that Mr. Weaton ever made it off the list. In our brief acquaintance, I have found him to be condescending, pompous, uncompromising and insulting. In fact, I am at a complete loss as to how he and Sheldon could even be friends at all! The worst of Mr. Weaton's behavior was on full display during a recent filming of Fun with Flags. He met my helpful, and frankly invaluable, critique with the eloquent rejoinder that I was a "pain in the ass." More upsetting, my boyfriend did nothing, initially, to defend me.

Sheldon has since, however, more than redeemed himself. Despite an original misstep in gifting me with a tedious set of Star Trek: The Next Generation DVDs, he went to Wil Weaton's house this evening to set the matter right. Under the influence of tea (that I suspect was much less virginal than he believes) he demanded an apology. When confronted with the threat of bodily harm, Mr. Weaton quickly folded and offered Sheldon what he was seeking. Mr. Weaton then, at Sheldon's request, dropped him off in front of my apartment building. When I opened my door (after a bewildering number of ill-timed knocks), I found Sheldon weak and wobbly, and he immediately raced to the restroom for a hearty round of vomiting.

He is currently recumbent upon my couch, nursing a bottle of Gatorade and snacking on saltine crackers. When I started off to prepare him a hot water bottle, he grabbed my hand, stopping me. He asked me if I was still mad at him. I told him that I was not. Then, more curiously, he asked me if I still would pick out the Brazil nuts when we shared a can of Planters Mixed Nuts. I assured him I would. Then he let me go and, Constanza, I've never seen him with the look that he had on his face in that moment. His eyelids hung heavy and contented, his face was tranquil but pleasant, and the sides of his mouth pulled into a lazy smile. Honestly, I'm a bit concerned. I really hope he doesn't have alcohol poisoning.

XOXO AFF

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

I am enamored with my job and take pride in my work, not only because my career success has come after much hard work and dedication, but because my contributions to the field can have a real impact on our understanding of the inner workings of the human brain. I mean, I get chills when I realize that our tireless work in my humble primates' lab helped crack the code on what goes on in a man's mind when he's masturbating. Imagine: without my research, we might have never known.

That said, when my work is very intense and I'm required to work long hours, my social life suffers. Now that I now actually have a social life, I'm bothered by this fact. Most of all, it impedes my time with Sheldon. So imagine my joy when Saturday rolled around and I was able to spend an entire, uninterrupted day with the object of my affection. Even better, Leonard and Penny decided that they needed a couple days away after what they called "a momentous week," so Sheldon and I had his apartment to ourselves.

We quickly decided to spend the morning at the planetarium but, upon arriving, realized we had already seen all the displays before, and thus the factual errors that had once amused us had lost much of their entertainment value. I then suggested we visit Raj for the free skincare product consultation he'd promised me, but Sheldon recoiled at the notion. He countered with suggestions of the comic book store, train hobby shop and costume store in quick succession, all of which I heartily declined. We then agreed to go to the zoo, only to discover that the koala habitat wasn't open to the public due to "fall cleaning." (I have my doubts that such a thing even exists. I plan to keep abreast of the situation to assure that the koalas are not being endangered in some way. More endangered than they already are, anyway). In the end, we went to the bookstore.

While Sheldon scanned the shelves for something to read, I stood in line at the café for a peppermint mocha. Glancing at the magazine rack by the counter, my disdain of the patronizing fodder of so-called "women's" magazines, once again, battled against my inexplicable desire to stare upon glossy pictures —slack-jawed and self-loathing—of emaciated women donning the latest fashions. My feminist ambitions were thwarted yet again by an intriguing cover article: "Six Questions You MUST Ask Your Boyfriend!" I immediately snatched up the magazine and raced to Sheldon, who was already seated in the café; his face was concealed behind a graphic novel. Aware of his dislike of any test that probes into a person's personality, I skillfully wove the questions through our conversation, although some insertions were admittedly clunkier than others. Even so, he answered my queries, completely unaware of my scheming until the very end. Here, Constanza, are the answers.

1. What's your favorite position? "We've been over this, Amy, more times than I can count. In my home, it is the far right side of the couch. In unfamiliar locations, I must determine my favorite position after carefully considering the air currents, acoustics and the layout of the room."

2. Where are your trigger points? "I can't imagine mine would be any different than anyone else's. There are 620 potential trigger points in human muscles. Considering my ticklish nature and general aversion to pain, I would imagine I have them all."

3. Do you like role-playing? "This question hardly need be asked. Honestly, Amy, have we met before? Speaking of which, if you had agreed to go the costume shop, I would have shown you a half-priced Star Trek medical officer costume left over from Halloween. Having regrets yet?"

4. Are you a talker? "I enjoy participating in substantive conversation with persons of intellect, a list that would typically be headed by you, although I find the topics you've chosen today to be uncharacteristically tedious. What, exactly, are you drinking?"

5. Lights on or off? "I find voluntary darkness to be suitable for only one activity: sleep. Which reminds me, I've been meaning to show you the new light saber I purchased in the case of a power outage at the apartment. Be assured that, by comparison, Leonard's much celebrated saber will be sent home, sniveling and wet."

6. What turns you off during intimacy? "I'm sorry, I don't understand the question."

Immediately after the last question, another patron asked if he could join our table, explaining that all the other tables were taken. Before Sheldon could utter, "Get thee back from whence thee came," the man and his crying toddler had joined us. Sheldon immediately rose, marching from the table, and I followed him. We then found an empty bench by the front window, and took a seat there. I discarded the magazine for a book I encountered on Drosophila neurobiology, and Sheldon read his novel with renewed concentration. When I placed my open palm on his knee, he took my hand without even turning from the page.

Though the quiz seemed exciting at the outset, I must confess, Constanza, that I already knew the answer to the vast majority of the questions. Most likely, they were designed for couples who, unlike Sheldon and I, struggle with meaningful communication. Perhaps I'll suggest the questionnaire to Penny and Leonard, the second strangest couple I know.

XOXOXOXO AFF

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

I realize that it is only 7 o'clock PM, but I am retiring early tonight as, you see, I have a date with Sheldon. As much as I wish this "nocturnal interlude" was one of the sensual variety, I am equally pleased by what it actually is: he and I are scheming to take back his parking spot. At precisely 1:30 AM, I will arrive at 2311 Los Robles Ave where I will pick him up. From there, with his spray can and stencils in tow, we will make our way to the Caltech faculty parking lot. Once there we will spray paint "Sheldon Cooper" over the place where "Howard Wolowitz" has been profanely added to Sheldon's parking spot. Though tonight promises to be a long one (and not without its dangers), I am proud (and a little excited) that Sheldon recruited me for this particular mission. At the outset of this territorial battle, I was resolved to remain as neutral as the proverbial "Bennett" and stay "not in it." However, as the Wolowitzes (and Bernadette in particular) have gone into full on bitch-mode, I am left with no choice other than to support Sheldon in his pursuit of justice and the recovery of what is rightfully his. After such a thrilling night, there is no telling what time I will get back home, much less if and when I will be able to get back to sleep. With that in mind, I have already prepared the outfit I will be wearing to work tomorrow, as well as stocked my purse for the various errands I will be running, including trips to the grocery store and bank.

Some part of me finds it unfortunate that this argument has degenerated into all-out hostility, but all is fair in love and war; I'm afraid that in this case, both are at stake.

XOXOXOXOXOXO,

AFF

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

I am aware that you are not real and that, despite all efforts to personify this journal and treat it as a living being, "you" are nothing more than a volume of ink that has been put to paper. Even so, for centuries, humankind has engaged in this charade, a self-deluded exercise in daily storytelling that allows people to purge themselves of current events, personal matters that haunt them, and (more often) frivolous gossip of the day. I imagine that, on some level, this nighttime ritual serves the purpose of allowing one to collect one's thoughts, explain one's feelings and spare one's companions from having to sit through the tedious retelling of one's life. I recall on one occasion, after falling victim to a burglar in my home, I found myself recording some rather grim feelings in a composition notebook. Ultimately, however, I find that such time and resources would be better invested in the recording of academic knowledge. Unfortunately, Constanza, my girlfriend disagrees. So I sit here, scribbling away in this diary as she lies on the couch infirmed.

That's right, Constanza, today's entry is brought to you by none other than the illustrious Dr. Sheldon Cooper. Despite my former statements disparaging this activity, I do believe today's entry will be of great value. As my stature in the scientific community (and world at large) increases—culminating in my receipt of the Nobel Prize—my signature at the end of this very entry will add a new-found provenance to this book, and will undoubtedly increase its monetary value, as future collectors of great literature will be willing to pay a high premium for any scrap of my writing, no matter how trivial.

Amy is anxiously reminding me to mention three matters in particular: (1) that I treated her with a chest balm of Vicks-Vapo-Rub, (2) that I sang "Soft Kitty" to her and (3) that I ran her a bath. I am at a loss as to how these events are the highlights of a day in which we discussed the implications of a hypothetical mono-lingual world, read the entirety of a periodical on modern topics in Chemistry, and dined on a fresh loaf of my scrumptious sourdough bread. Anyway, as this journal is not mine, I will concede to her wishes.

She's made another request, as well: that I not read any of the other entries. I've largely complied with her wishes, although I must confess that as I thumbed through the journal to find a blank page, I managed to see my name make more than a few appearances. Though our relationship is based on trust and mutual admiration, I would be remiss if I didn't mention that it did raise my curiosity some. What details of our relationship—private moments that only she and I share—are immortalized on the printed page? I should like to know.

If I'm being completely honest, I can't be too miffed considering my transgression at bath time, and who can blame me? I've said it once, Constanza, and I'll say it again: the hero always peeks.

Yours truly,
Sheldon Cooper, BSc, MS, PhD, ScD

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

There was a time when I thought that donning a fancy dress, wearing whorish make-up and strutting sensually in front of gawking onlookers of the opposite sex was beneath me. I imagined that such activity was reserved for intellectually-deficient women who had nothing more to offer the world than their overly-preened, starved, manicured bodies and a willingness to perform a tawdry list of lascivious sexual favors. However, now that I find myself enjoying the occasional evening of dress-up and modeling, I've discovered that there is a certain allure to being eye candy. It's fun painting up my face, showing a little skin and piling on gaudy accessories with my girlfriends. Don't think I missed the way Sheldon perked up when I entered the room, although that may have been attributable to the fact that he has strong opinions about cuffing the sleeves of a shirt or sweater. He would rather enlist the services of tailor.

My best accessory, however, is my sexual confidence, and it was nearly threatened when Raj insinuated that, among all of his friends' girlfriends, I was the only one he had never been attracted to. I found the news both embarrassing and surprising; while I don't aspire to be as alluring as Penny, surely in a head to head with Bernadette I can hold my own. Fortunately, however, it turned out to be a classic case of delayed attraction. As Raj and I shared some of our mutual experiences and personal trials with loneliness, he soon realized that I was not only a kindred spirit but highly desirable. The poor kid was practically in love with me by the time the night was over. I feel sorry for him; he's adorable, but he has nothing on my Sheldon. All the same, I better keep an eye on him. He's been known to try to take a bite from the forbidden fruit before.

Overall, it was a pleasing evening. For me, anyway. I'm afraid Sheldon did not fare as well. I thought he would enjoy his evening of Dungeons and Dragons, and I anticipated hearing an exhaustive play-by-play of the game when he called me later in the evening. Instead, he was somewhat reticent, and unexpectedly mentioned how much, even years later, he still missed his grandfather. While I've often heard him speak with affection of his beloved "Meemaw," mention of "Pop Pop" was new. I listened quietly and wished him sweet dreams.

I know he isn't much of a fan of Yuletide festivity, but I privately look forward to the day when we get to spend the holidays together. I think we'd be able to start some merry Christmas traditions together… under the mistletoe.

XOXOXOXOXO

AFF

Chapter Text

Dear Constanza,

I finally asked Penny how her appointment with her college's guidance counselor went. She informed me that after perusing the class catalog, she found all the science classes to be "boring." As if that wasn't shocking enough, she told me that in lieu of actually enrolling in a physics class, she just put on a pair of glasses and said the word "molecule" to Leonard, and that somehow led to a wild episode of spirited intercourse.

Essentially, she got sex out of Leonard by becoming an—albeit significantly watered-down—version of me. I couldn't help but wonder that if by putting on a few layers of Spanx, wearing a tightfitting mini-dress, and donning a blond wig I could get the same reaction out of Sheldon. I just might try it.

Bazinga.

XOXOXOXOXO

AFF