This is what happens when I can't sleep...

I will regret this in the morning without a doubt. While my red, unfocused eyes stare blankly at my bouncing children I will think back on how I was not able to sleep and seriously regret not forcing myself to sleep.

Perhaps my mind keeps drifting forward a day to my first day of work where I will know no one....and I have to do a district inservice to boot. And, did I mention that said inservice is at the high school where I accepted a job and then was told I couldn't accept the job and felt like I had done something very wrong? Yeah, that one. Now, be sure to understand that I am not responsible and was never thought to have done anything wrong at all, but I hate all forms of conflict and two principals fighting over me smacks of conflict in my book. Just saying...

However, my mind could be racing over the thought that it is time for classes to resume at JC and I have not received an email or a call offering me a class. Umm, ok, so they do not even reopen until tomorrow, but that is decidedly beside the point! I want to know if I have an extra job, by God. Why do people never do things on MY time clock? Again...just saying...

Maybe my brain keeps replaying clips of phone conversations and emails and actual face-to-face dialogue between me and my MAT. (If he calls me "my Jamie," I'm thinking he can be mine too.) He's very curious about what everyone is saying about him, especially since I have actually mentioned him by name on a FB status, and I do not have the heart to tell him that I only refer to him as a nameless "date" on a blog and do not speak of him outloud otherwise. I'm just not sure he would understand that to say it out loud to those around me makes it real and therefore something that can crush me if/when it ends.

I know in some level he would because he was hurt deeply by his ex, but I can see none of that on his face-ever. Each time we are together, either in person or on the phone or online, he is fully there, ya know.  No holding back, no games, no subterfuge-just him and his honesty. Now he flirts...Lord does that man flirt...and Lord, bless my soul, is he ever good at it...but it feels differently than what I'm used to. I'm used to blatant flirting that is heavily laced with innuendo and propositions, but his is....well, honest and straightforward. Open. There is affection without overt references to sex being bandied about; there are only terms of endearment and questions about my day and plans and occasional "kiss" thrown in for good measure. In fact, the only thing remotely racy about our conversations is the increasing number of times the word "kiss" is thrown around. (Hell, he even says "kiss" before he gets off the phone with me.)  And I am sitting here feeling nervous because I have no words to describe what this feels like and I'm trying desperately to play it off and grown up because it's not like I'm a stupid teenager (although, I know you all probably don't believe it after all the crushes I've had in the past year) and can afford to be so flippant with thoughts and ideas.

While I know that whatever happens I will survive and move on, just as have before and will again, but I'm actually more afraid of getting used to this kind of treatment and always being disappointed if I never receive it again. I actually started to ask him if he was interested in a thing that's happening next month and stopped myself with the thought, "Really, Jamie. You want to ask him about next month. Ya assuming a lot aren't you?" 

This is after knowing that he already said he will run my first 5K with me in May, but I have a hard time counting on that.  It's not that I do not believe him; it's just that it boggles my damn mind. Seriously, guys, why. I mean I met him in November and started emailing and talking on the phone. We had our first date the saturday before Christmas. We just had our third date (AND we all know from past posts that I seem to have a shelf life of around 6 weeks or 3ish dates. Not sure why, but that has been the trend.) and I think I'm waiting for the shoe to drop and each day it doesn't I'm not sure whether to breath a sigh of relief and do a happy dance or just keep my fingers crossed.

I know...I know..I'm thinking WAY too much about all of this shit and I should give it a rest, get some sleep and just relax...easy for you to say, Paco. You don't have to worry about the weird fluttery feeling you get thinking about some really sweet and extremely handsome man with excellent hands and very, very muscled abs(Oh yes, hand on chest..zero fat, pudge, anything...just very hard, solid muscle. Whoa...) And how the more excited you get when his name pops up on the phone or online the more nervous you get and how stupid it all sounds-even when it's just said in your own head. I mean, Hallmark doesn't make a "I like you and it scares the mortal hell out of me because I just can't think of any reason why I should get to keep you even tough I have no idea why I'd even have a single thought about keeping anyone this soon after us meeting" card. Good God I'm nurotic tonight..

SEE!!!

This is what happens when I can't sleep!!! I toss. I turn. I starting thinking and then I can't turn my fucking brain off!! Holy hell!!  I'm fucking going to bed....

PS-Just to let you guys know, i'm pretty sure this all spurred from the possibility of us going a group outing this weekend. Me and my two & him and his one. I keep thinking that either sometime this week (in a panic of "OMG her kids that might be too serious") or next week (in a panic of "OMG her kids are wild and I can't deal") the death knell will sound and that will be all she wrote...sigh.......damn, I really AM going to bed this time.

Thoughts and Things

Ya know, I was trying to remember this time last year and it seems so long ago, so far removed from who I am and where I am, that I absolutely do not remember. I know I was moving, but I can't remember what I did for New Year's Eve or anything. Well, not true...I remember thinking it was the first New Year's day in YEARS that I didn't cry at all; however, other than that, I got nothing. Do you know what I'm doing this year?


This year I'm hanging out with my bestie D on the Eve and spending New Year's Day afternoon with MAT, my beautiful, sweet, sexy, Colombian soccer player. Now that's a weekend to remember.


Now, I will pause here and tell you all that I'm more nervous about this particular date than I was about the first one because it will be date number 3...and we all know what happens on date number 3... I get dumped soon after. sigh.  However, I'm trying to be optimistic by looking at things that caused the big D before that are very different with sweet MAT:

• He is not afraid of my children. now this is pretty funny because a guy friend of mine giggled when I said the last few guys were "afraid of my children" and replied, "Don't they realize they are still small; I mean, I'm pretty sure they could take 'em." However, because MAT has a son and plays the role of single Dad at least half the week, he is totally at ease with the idea of my kiddies. In fact, he always asks about them and remembers little things I've said about them. It's pretty cool to share anecdotes about our children when we talk. It's just another thing that makes him sweet. Plus, let's all be honest, the whole Good Daddy thing is super hot!
• He is never "too busy" or at least seemingly so. For example, he checked on our progress home from Atlanta yesterday on several different occasions, just to make sure we were still safe. Today he texed me on a break and when I didn't reply her popped on FB just to say "hi" and see how my day was going. There were times with the other fellas I dated that it seemed almost a bother to send the "made it home safe" text. He just always seems happy to hear from me. Call me crazy, but I appreciate that. I guess what seemed "needy" to white guys is normal to Latin men.
• I think I am also a bit different with him. I have been uncharacteristically and bluntly honest about everything on my mind since the first time we met and began emailing because I didn't think he'd ever actually ask me out. True story, never thought it was a possibility. Why? Well, experience had taught me that 2 kids are at least one, but probably 2 more than more guys can handle. Plus, he's younger than me, not crazy younger than me, but three years that would be significant for most people. (He's only 30.) And then there's the whole thing with him being all beautiful and sexy and stuff. Yep, didn't think we'd get to a first date let alone a third. Nothing really to lose by begin yourself if you don't think it's going to happen anyway.

We are still trying to decide what exactly we will do on Saturday, but he did say that "us being together and seeing each other is what is important."

Whoa! Shall we all swoon together?

So...next topic of randomness...I need new hair. Ok, so not actually NEW hair, just something done to mine to give it a bit of something. It's kinda blah and I don't feel like being blah.

I'm definitely thinking layers and bangs. (I must admit to feeling a bit of tightness at the idea of doing that because my first thought was, "Omg, I wonder if MAT would hate it." What? I'm a freaking girl OK; so, there will be times when I actually act all girly. I AM going to do it anyway.)

I think that's all the randomness I can spill, but I'm sure there will be something later...

Thing 1's Journey

So, I've talked about the recent struggles that T has been having in school lately and you guys have been very outspoken and supportive. Thank you.

He was suspended from school yesterday for the same behavior from the last time I blogged about him (he did it on Monday and Tuesday, which is why he was suspended on Wednesday) and, at the suggestion of my sister, I went ahead and and took him to the doctor yesterday while he was "out".

To be fair, he also has had a cough for a few days too.

So, we went to the doctor (a new pediatrician too, but I did make sure I picked the woman since he's more comfy with women than men.). I promised no shots so he was more than willing to go.

He instantly loved the nurse (There is something my son LOVES about black women and blonds. What/ It's true!!) Anyway, the doctor came in and he loved her too. (Perhaps it was the blond highlights, idk.)

She checked his breathing, among other things, and gave me a proscription for his sinus, beginning bronchitis cough....

then I had her check out his face where my sister's fucking dog bit him...ON THE FACE! (Kim, I'm sorry but that dog is going to die when I see him next. Just saying. I'd kennel him for Christmas if you want him to live.)  Anyway, I wanted to see what I could put on the developing scar to minimize it. Seriously, I'm very excited about the keloid that is developing. Really. Thank you genetics that  get nothing, am I mean absolutely nothing (not a tan, not the beautiful think, black hair)  from my Indian blood except the whole keloid scar thing...and then my son gets it too-on his face. Fucking Really??!! Thanks....that rocks....sigh

Anywhooo. I ended the visit with this jem of communication brilliance, "I know he's only four, but, I mean, he's really having trouble in school and at home."

She listened as I went into greater detail about some of the "issues" that we've been dealing with, but was not surprised because she had watched this child literally bounce around the room since she walked in. She asked the question I was waiting for..."Is there anyone else in the family that has these issues." Is there?! "Um, me, my dad, his father, my sister's four kids, my sister, my aunts, a majority of my cousins...and almost all of them/us are medicated in some way for it."

So, she gave me an evaluation to fill out and one for his teacher to fill out.

There were so many things floating through my head as I read it.

• Almost all of these thing sound like him
• Almost all of these things sound like me
• How sad and overwhelmed my baby must feel a majority of the time
• How much I loath the idea of medicating my baby boy, but desperately want him to have an easier time in school than I had.

While I was never a hyper active kid, I was and still am a fidgeter. Something on my body is always in motion-usually it is my leg or foot. (My kids were never really rocked to sleep as babies; they were lulled to sleep by my leg shake-think metronome.)

I would also miss chucks of information because my mind would drift away either in a daydream or get distracted watching out the window. Now, I certainly never admitted to that because I thought my Pop would kill me for goofing off in class and it was never noticed because I was a good kid that never was any trouble and my grades were good. (I always doubled my efforts and learned the information I missed myself so I could keep my grades up.)

My real problems were manifested in anxiety.

I also didn't know that I had a problem with anxiety until I was pregnant with Caitlin. I really always thought that everyone would get severe stomach aches (and occasionally either gag or throw up) anytime they had a test, exam, speech, project, or was called on in class to answer a question. Normal people would get overwhelmed with the thought of every single worst case scenario anytime they left the house right? Maybe  the entire body physically shaking and and overwhelming "bad feeling" about things might have been a bit odd, but my whole family tends to be "high strung" so it's a family thing, but everything else is pretty standard.

Well, it turns out that no, no it's really not normal.

Go figure.

And each time T would display "Jamie" tendencies I would just say, "Poor thing, he's so much like me."

Now, after I finally was told-no, I did not come to this realization myself, I had to be TOLD- I began looking at my child differently. It made makes me sad that he has this same shadow over his head that dims every situation and makes it almost impossible to fully enjoy life.

This is why when asked if I'd ever consider coming off of lexapro I say, "Are you fucking kidding? Hell no!"

Since being medicated myself I love my life. I can taste the highs and lows, savouring each flavor without it spoiling everything else. Now I may be given the opportunity to give T that same gift, the gift of calm. The gift of feeling sane and normal all the time. The gift of not choking on constant fear of people, situations, success, failure, and everything in between.



Is it worth it? Until he's old enough to make the choice for himself...yeah, I think it just might be worth it.

Asking for Favors

So, here's the thing. About a month ago, I ran across a submissions page for a magazine that was specifically looking for short love stories. I thought "Hey I can totally do that" even though I've never written a love story in my life. I mean, I've written around it and in the vicinity of it, but never just something based on it. However, I figured good experience or whatever (ya gotta get a bunch of rejections out of the way in the beginning, ya know) and set off to bang out a paltry 2700 to 3800 words to send in.

I have 2447 words and I'm officially stuck. The first 2000 words flowed like the wine I rewarded myself with when I was finished, but I have fought for those last 447, guys. Fought I tell you.

I'd love for all of you to read this and offer thoughts, ideas, comments, questions, or advice on pieces, parts, the whole, or whatever. If I'm going to submit it I definitely need at least 400 more words, but I'm afraid to start picking at it. (For those who are CSI watchers, you remember the episode with the model who basically picked at her face until she went septic and died? Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of.) 

I need fresh eyes and honest (but nice please, I'm a bit sensitive since this is one of the first times anyone has ever read something fictional of mine).

Thanks,

Me

PS- Things I know: it has no real title, the main character should have more background possibly, it's nowhere near reading for submission, and I'm a little nauseous that you guys will read it. Have Fun!

Love Story


I know it sounds crazy and you won’t believe me, but I swear my heart stopped dead when you walked into the door.


Those were the first words he said to me and when he spoke them as he looked deep into my eyes and brushed his thumb across my right cheekbone. There was an audible sizzle in the air when he touched my face. I heard it-felt it-as did he.

He was exactly the opposite of everything I’d ever found enticing in a man and the exoticism of that was intoxicating. Eyes a warm grey-blue instead of the usual liquid brown that drove my pulse wild, shorn dirty blond hair smattered with grey at the temples instead of the long dark locks of so many previous lovers, even the way he towered over me, instantly making me feel small and fragile was different. I was mesmerized by the sheer size of the hand that has been so close to my face moments before, hands that bore the calluses of hard work and yet the manicure of a professional at the same time. How curious.


I stood staring at this stranger who had spoken to me and touched my without consent, but who spoke so honestly that I didn’t even care. Instantly I knew that I would love this man forever.


And that is exactly why I laughed in his face and told him it was the most ridiculous pick-up line ever created. “So, hot shot, how many girls have gotten to hear that little jewel so far tonight?”


There was a smile on his lips even though his eyes looked hurt. I was satisfied he’d leave me alone for the rest of the night and pass the word about the “bitch in the red dress” so I settled into a corner table, feet up, and ordered my first drink, silently daring anyone to approach me. It was just my way.


Strangely enough “crazy guy”, as I nicknamed him, didn’t leave well enough alone-at least not completely. He nestled himself a bar stool that was near enough to overhear conversation, but far enough that touch wasn’t possible, but purposely in my direct eye line. The rest of the night I watched him talk, laugh, joke, and smile all while carefully meeting my eyes for mere second before resuming his conversation. Puzzling over this enigmatic presence, I began to consider the game that was afoot. Although I’d shut him down once that clearly wasn’t enough, he wanted me to see him as he was. He wanted me to watch his body and his movements to determine for myself whether he was harmless. Unfortunately for both of us, I knew he was harmless when he first stepped into my path


Harmless wasn’t an issue. The fluttering in my chest each time my eyes strayed over to him or I heard his voice over the dim of the room was the problem. I would not encourage this attention.



He had other plans. Each time I came in I felt eyes on my face and found those eyes on me. Caressing me. Challenging me to acknowledge him. He seemed to know my routine after a while and would have a drink waiting on me or send over one of several bottles of water I would always drink during the evening. He was always in my peripheral vision-almost close enough to touch, but far enough that I couldn’t overhear his conversation and he couldn’t hear mine.


Then he learned my name.


From that time drinks or bottles of water were accompanied by silly notes. Some made me laugh, some made me puzzled, but none made me anxious. It was almost seemed like he just wanted a reason to write my name because it would be repeated several times in the span of a few lines. But always I could hear him saying my name in each note, whispered in my ear as though he were passing behind me, hot breath on my neck, and the slightest touch of his hand resting between my shoulder blades. I blamed the chills on burgeoning winter weather, but those words smelled of lie and my friends began to comment on my obvious ardor for my admirer.


Although he never tried to talk to me again after that first night, he made his presence and attention quite clear and waited on me to make the first step towards him. My friends joked that he must have the patience of Job himself, but I saw it as a careful man trying to tame a feral cat into domestication. Sadly for him that was the last thing I was willing to accept. I’d been “tamed” once before and I was damn sure not following that same path again. Lesson learned. It was too bad that he was growing on me.


We had been playing his game for almost two months when I noticed I was taking more care in getting ready for the night. I made sure I didn’t wear the same dress I had worn on previous occasions. Hell, I even bought a new pair of heels that accentuated my calves and actually made my legs look at least two miles longer than they actually were. My earrings dangled and brushed against my neck making my pixie hair look more feminine, more delicate, than normal. I craved his attention, but felt too frightened to make the next move. Here again, I’d wanted no part of the domesticated lifestyle.

I walked in determined to purposefully make eye contact and smile my best and flirtiest smile at him. In fact, I’d decided that perhaps I’d do it each time a drink or a note came my way, even if it meant I was smiling at him a majority of the night. Maybe, just maybe I’d even saunter over for a quiet thank you, but I’d wait to see how the night played out. Life had taught me to be flexible with my plans.


I arrived and met no eyes at the door. I sat and felt no caress. Nothing existed in my peripheral vision except groups of beer guzzling frat boys playing darts. I waited and nothing came my way outside of my own order. Devastation could only be the appropriate word. I was devastated that he wasn’t there to watch over me or to send my quirky notes, plus I couldn’t shoot him my best smile and make him want me more than ever. Most of all I was devastated that I cared about any of that. My friends snickered about my disappointment telling me I should have acted sooner. “That’s what happened when playing hard to get goes on far too long. You blew it girl. Oh, don’t tell us you actually liked the guy? That’s even more pathetic.” Yep, my friends have always been the comforting, supportive type or at least they were until they claimed I was being ridiculous to shun any and all relationships due to one sour one-even if the sour one almost took my life. “Live and move on,” they say. Panic and live in fear, I do.

So, I did what any self-respecting woman who is fighting crushing disappointment and anxiety woman would do, I turned my carefully practiced smile onto the first drunken frat boy who met my eyes. Much like my group, he and his friends were regulars, although that is where all similarities both began and ended. I’d caught his attention on several occasions, but my game of cat and mouse had been much more entertaining than playing enticing for him. He was cute in a plain, white-bread-and-mayonnaise kind of way: brown hair, brown eyes, even tan of someone who plays in the sun, not one who works in the sun. He’ll do to play with for now.

I brushed past his shoulder on my way towards the bathrooms and glanced over my shoulder to make sure he was watching me. Sure enough he was, so I toned down my smile to something as more feral, more dangerous, more me. He followed instantly as I knew he would. He caught up to me, inwardly congratulating himself; I could tell. Little did he know that I was caught only because I chose to be; he had no choice in the matter. His hands slid up my arms and I could feel the length of his body against the back of mine. I knew there were only mere second to make the choice: continue on this path or abandon it completely. The smell of his cologne mixed with beer and sweat clogged my nose and anxiety clenched my heart. “Abandon this ruse now,” my brain screamed and my body instantly stepped away. “I never said you could touch me,” I hissed turning around to view his alcohol bloated face slowly fading and being replaced by a face much more menacing. I face I knew well and would never let hurt me again.


“Stupid bitch! How dare you play coy with me?” His words were slightly slurred and spittle sprayed from his harsh, indignant mouth. I simply smiled as one would smile at an angry child, “Now, did you really think anything was going to happen when you walked back here? You were merely a point that I believe has been made.”

His hands grabbed the tops of my arms. I hadn’t noticed how massive they were; I’d been too busy looking at the overindulged physique. I’m usually not so sloppy when choosing my play-toys, but my discontent distracted me. His words became harsher but my mind had already separated from my body, calming me, and assessing weaknesses for escape when another pair of hands only vaguely familiar to me grabbed frat boy’s throat. “You need to leave the lady alone,” whispered the darkness because my champion’s face was shielded by shadow.

I didn’t wait to see what happened next or even thank my defender before escaping out the back door. Gulping the night air, I became to feel my senses return to me and evaluate how stupid and dangerous my actions had been. What had I been thing? Why had I made such a mistake? He was the reason. It was his fault and I would tell him the next time I saw him-whenever that would be. That thought faded from my mind as my shivers began and a low and angry voice demanded my attention, “What the fuck was that?”

My shivers turned to electric pulses at the sound of his voice. I turned to see my hero, my champion, was my guy. The guy who I’d been playing cat and mouse with these last two months, the guy that I thought had abandoned the chase. He was here and standing in front of me-and incidentally quite angry. But I’d seen anger before. This anger was more a mixture of hurt and confusion, not pure rage, not hate; so, I unleashed the full force of myself on him.


One step. Two steps.

I touched his face tentatively, wondering if he would flinch or turn away. When he didn’t, I reached up and softly, carefully laid my lips against his. His surprise at the chaste kiss lasted less than a second as he pulled my body flush against his and deepened the kiss. Coming up for air, but still allowing him to cradle my body against his I looked up and whispered, “You weren’t here.”

He looked at me strangely, but I continued spilling my thoughts, hoping he wouldn’t interrupt, so I wouldn’t lose whatever moxy it was that kept the words flowing through me, “I had prepared for tonight. I was counting on it. I had made my decision or at least as much of a decision about you as I was prepared to make tonight and you weren’t here. I couldn’t swallow the feeling of regret. The feeling I had lost my chance; so, I decided to play a game.”


His grip loosened on me for a second and I thought he would walk away, but instead he tightened his grip and buried his face into the crook of my neck. “A game? A game? Leading men into a dark corner of a bar is a game to you?” He stared at me in disbelieve, possibly thinking he was also apart of the game, but he wasn’t. He definitely wasn’t.

“No, garnering attention was the game. Smiling and flirting and having him follow me like a puppy was the game. Had you not distracted me so completely I would have known he was the wrong choice. I would have known he could overpower me.”

“So, you are blaming this on me?”

“Damn right!” I stared deep into his eyes. In for a penny, in for a pound, my mom always said. “I was angry and hurt that you moved on and needed something to regain the power you took from me. I needed it back. You don’t understand.”


He face contorted and I couldn’t figure out if he was about to yell or sigh or call me an idiot; instead he touched my face, much like he did the first time we met and lowered his face to mine. What began as a soft, sweet kiss grew into intensity until I could feel all of the longing and frustration he’d felt over the past two months. His fingers curled into my hair and gently tugged until my neck was laid bared to him and I closed my eyes as his lips and teeth barely ran across my skin-ear to collar bone. A sound somewhere between a sigh and a moan escaped my lips, surprising me, but motivating him to continue exploring my neck with his lips and my body with his hands. Finally, he found his way back to my lips pouring all of himself into the kiss. I felt something inside me release and I clung to him as though he were the only thing between life and death.

Somehow understanding the meaning of that, he eased the kiss back and whispered, “I know it sounds crazy and you won’t believe me, but I swear my heart stopped dead when you walked into the door.” His whisper rang in my ears and this time I didn’t laugh because I knew he wasn’t reciting a line; this was a true and honest feeling that he was laying bare to me. He was attempting to begin again before our own game and before my dangerous error. This time I respected it and laid my hand on his chest and looked into his eyes, “I was waiting for you.”

Big Smiles

Can I say that I all but swooned on this gem I received today....

Can't stay on line but just wanted to say that I am thinking about you. Have a great day!

 

I swear, just about the time I think I'm totally imagining the whole thing and there's no way he could really like me I get something like this from him...and then, of course, I get all silly and smiley. I'm such a damn girl.  

Interests and Dealbreakers

So, I started composing this in my head last night while driving home from Hattiesburg, home from my date with LC. I thought about how my life has changed evolved over the past decade. As a young 22 year old (I'm NOT 33 yet, people) I had a definitely LIST of what I wanted in a guy. Let me just tell you that this list was long, detailed, and definitely specific. Now, I was no different from any of my friends or any other girls I knew because we ALL had lists, but I had no idea where the LIST would lead-eventual disaster. Yep, the ex embodied the list. He met pretty much every singe requirement, even "Must be able to recite Shakespeare" and I thought I must be the luckiest girl ever. Now, when the world blew up on me I began to readjust my perspective. As I healed up I decided that the list did me wrong or maybe I just did the list wrong. Yeah, I did the list wrong.  Instead of concentrating on a list of random attributes I should have thought about things that would make life happier.

This being said, I have developed The Dealbreakers. There are not very many, but they are concrete, unchangable, and nonnegotiable.

1-Addictionless. I will never again subject myself to dealing with alcoholism or any other additction that takes away from me or my family.
2-Must love my babies and be willing to be an "instant dad" because my children have no other, and barely remember the "donor". (In fact, Cait doesn't at all. She thinks my dad is her dad.) 

Yep, that's it. No Shakespeare. No physical features. No specific personality traits. Just no addicts and love my babies. Why? Those are the things that are super important to me and were the issues that caused strife in my life and my former marriage.

That being said, I bet you guys want me to just get on with the discussion of my date yesterday. Well, it went a little something like this...

By the time I got to Hattiesburg, I really was thinking I'd have to pull over to throw up. I mean, I was chewing a piece of gum (Hey, I drank a lot of coffee during class, don't judge) and even my little piece of Big Red was making me gag. Yep, it was pretty bad. Thankfully, just being in the Burg relaxes me, so that's a big plus. I also found out a very significant thing about myself yesterday; I feel compelled to constantly reapply mascara when nervous.Ii think I had on at least 6 layers and the details of my eyelashes could be seen for at least a mile. Just saying.

Anyway, he arrived just before me and my first thought was, "Holy shit he's tall. Ooo I don't think I've ever seen a guys truck that clean in my life." (Don't you guys just love my inner monologue?! Such an insite to my random-ass psyche.) Since he was there first there was no final hair fluff or lipstick check (SO glad I reapplied at the last stop light) so I just got out of the car, took a deep breath, and walked over to him. I was right...he is seriously tall. Seriously, I had too look up at him and didn't even come up to his shoulder. (I realize that I'm pretty short at 5'3", but he's like 6'1". More about that later.)

I won't bore anyone with the details like he has really pretty eyes (A blue/grey that have an inner and outer ring of darker blue) that never left my face, even though I had on a V neck top. He might have peaked when my head was turned, but I never noticed. Call me crazy, but that's a sign of a polite and very disciplined guy.

I referred to him above as a guy, but actually, guy is the wrong word for him.  He's a man. A grown man. And as scary as that sounds to me, it was nice to be in the company of someone who was totally comfortable with himself and his life. He is every bit of who I saw yesterday and that was so new and relaxing.

I had a great time. I found myself smiling at the strangest moments-like the whole time. We laughed the entire time. When we sat next to one another it was toally natural for him to put his arm around me to play with my hair. I was every bit of who I naturally am-my opinions, my thoughts, my mannerisms, my voice where I would normally feel as though I should shift or alter myself to present the "best face" (see earlier post She's Shifty for examples). He held my hand it felt as though it had always been there. He even continued to pay attention to me as he had to take a work call; we all know I'm a sucker for attention.

I felt important. But most importantly...

I never felt anxious, which you guys know is almost crazy talk. In fact, it continued on the way home because I had no wild, nervous energy to work off or think out. I simply drove home and spoke to him occasionally as he checked up on me at random intervals.

He texted me this morning to tell me he had a great time and I was "awesome", plus making usre I'd had a nice time. 

I'd say it a good sign....

Nothing Much

I really don't have much to say, but I did want to make sure you guys knew I was alive and well.

Ummmm.......................

In truth, I do have a date on saturday. Yep, it's someone new. Who knew that I would become a serial dater and flit from fella to fella. Crazy talk, right?! Anyway, this one is quite a bit different from the ones before. This one makes me nervous, where the other ones never did. It was alway slike "Oh, ok. So, it's a date." But it's not nerve-wraking in a bad, creepy, scary way; only in a good, butterfies in tummy way. (which is pretty scary.)

However, I will not say another word about it until it's over...But do feel free to wish me luck.