Aug 172010
 

I was planning on leaving this entire thing out of my blog, but since it was kinda announced on Twitter.. and some people are chomping at the bit to hear how things went.. I feel somewhat obligated to include at least a portion of the events here.

I’m a bit nervous about including these events, because he reads this.. religiously… and thus can see exactly what I’m thinking… which … well… might be a slightly different perspective from what he’s heard straight from me.. worse case might upset him or give him an annoyingly big ego.

So.. here I go at my attempt to be honest with you.. and still keep things within the limits of “Things I’m Willing To Let Him Know”.

To be perfectly honest, up until about a week or so ago, I wasn’t taking his visit very seriously. I was pretty sure he was a harmless nutjob or not ready for dating. Then we got to talking, and I started to care for him more than I planned.

What started as a joke of a “weekend sex-a-thon” suddenly, became more of a “date”. Yet, I still stuck to my guns on our initial agreement of no pictures. Err… well I’d seen pictures of him, he insisted he didn’t need pictures of me and I held him to that.

So if I really needed to, I could show up and see him and walk out and he wouldn’t be the wiser.

We agreed to meet at a locally owned bar downtown. He got there before I did, and texted me that he’d arrived. I walked in a few minutes later, and searched the bar for his face. I didn’t see him at first, then as I walked further inside, I saw his profile.

He turned to look at me as I pulled up a chair; I looked at his face and said to myself, “Oh yes.. yes yes yes.”

He’s tall, though not as tall as I’d imagined 6’4 would be, and he’s pretty damn cute.  In certain lights, he’s cute & attractive, in others he’s motherfucking hot.  He’s no twig man either, and bulky enough that I had absolutely no fear of breaking him… but not so bulky that I was afraid of being broken myself.

So I sat down and we talked. For the first 30-40-50-120 minutes or so, I can’t tell you what we talked about.

See my inner-monologue was going… “Kiss me!” “I wonder if he’ll kiss me?” “Oh shit, what if he thinks I’m ugly?” “Damn it kiss me”

Then once when he was done talking with his hands, he rested his forearm on the table touching my forearm.

“Does that mean he likes me? I mean… fucker! kiss me already!!”

Have I mentioned before that I have little patience?

Somewhere after that.. I can’t tell you how long, because I suck at the passage of time when I’m waiting for hot men to kiss me. Hell, I suck at the passage of time most days anyway, but distract me with a hot man.. and I’m completely useless with time… He kissed me.

I’d love to tell you that the first kiss was a knock-your-socks-off kiss. It wasn’t. We had some negotiating to do. He likes to start kisses with his mouth open. I like to start kisses with my mouth closed with passion progressing to open.

He changed his kissing style to mine, nearly immediately. (Smart man)

From then on out that evening, it was a mobile make-out session. PDA and everything, as I showed him around the downtown bar scene which as it turns out neither of us really cared about.  I’d be surprised if he could tell you which bars we went to or what they looked like. We were kinda.. well… preoccupied.

He was a gentleman the entire time… despite our PDA sessions.. opening doors, holding my hand, arm around me, and took charge of getting drinks or whatever else needed tending to. He did this adorable thing of kissing my forehead now and then, and his shoulder is just at the right height for me to rest my head against.

He also was very conscious the entire weekend about making sure I was taken care of.. safe.. and comfortable. More so, than any man has ever been my entire life. It was strange, exciting, encouraging, and in some ways like walking into some kind of storybook.

Anything I needed.. any complaints.. suggestions.. whatever.. and he (not always without complaint though) did his best to make sure I was happy and content… if not jubilant.

To understand the full extent of the testing he went through, you’d have to know a whole lot more about me.. but let me say this.. I am not an easy person to date when it comes down to reality. The hoops you have to jump through in order to be with me in any kind of daily way are pretty big. Even after this weekend of “Dating Maruska 101” crash course, he still seems willing to stay in the running. I was pretty damn sure that would scare him off.

We still have a few things to iron out, and work through. We’re still keeping things open and casual until then.. but there’s hope.. that maybe.. some day.. this might turn out to be something great.

Aug 102010
 

It’s been 1 year and roughly 9 months since I’ve been a “we”, and yet I keep finding myself saying “Oh yes we used to..” when referring to things that would happen when I was married.  Its like that time period is sentenced to the “we” vocabulary.

In all honesty, it seems kinda weird and a little bit insulting to my ex, for me to refer to things like “our house” as “my house” during that time period. Same goes for pest problems.. in conversations where people are talking about their pest problems and wanting to know a local company that does good work.. I often just automatically say “Well we used to have problems with them until we used…”  Because it was a “we” problem and not just a me problem. It never was my house, it was always our house.

Funny thing though is this isn’t just a problem with my ex.. I’ve had this problem with other people I’ve lived with.. including former ex’s, roomates, and even my best friend.

I’d be out on a date and the guy would ask me about something referring to my past or past apartments or something.. and I’d automatically say “Oh yeah, we…”

In which he’d instantenously get that flash across his face of “Wait.. is she single? Who is this we?”

Which would then start a discussion of who is that “we”.. and depending on the memory triggered.. one “we” could be a completely different pair than any other “we” I said.

I suppose I could clarify things by saying “My old roomate and I” or “My ex and I” or “My ex Jason and I” or “My ex Bill and I”.. but that might actually be worse as depending on the number of old memories triggered, I might end the night with a list of ex’s and old roomates as long as my arm. I can’t imagine that would be good.

I really should work on this “we” thing I suppose… but it just seems wrong… like I’m cutting out parts of pictures in my mind.. editing memories.. faking history.

Or I suppose I could just try to keep my damn mouth shut and not tell any stories that start with “We”… but .. knowing me, thats pretty much damn impossible.