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We’re Dating! Sort Of! Part Two: My Boy

April 27, 2013

Part II

My Boy:

While Pickle’s dating experiment has spanned five weeks, I’ve managed to fall into the depths of a crush like no crush yet in the course of 13 days. If you’re thinking this is a study in the differences between my and Pickle’s personalities, you would be right. This is what I do. I fall. I fall hard. This one’s got me. It’s bad. Yeah, I’ve said that before. I know. This one is a whole new level. I haven’t felt like this since……well since…..I don’t want to think about that.


At the end of our first date, I turned to him in the car and said, “Would you like to kiss me goodnight.” I love kissing. It’s the best part about the prospect of a date. At least you might get a kiss at the end. He took his seatbelt off and kissed me softly. The first little spark had happened in the restaurant. There was a moment when our eyes met and our gaze lingered on each other and I felt that tingle in my stomach. The simple good night kiss easily escalated. His hand was on my neck. He moved my hair away from the face. We had our arms around each other. My heartbeat rose. He pulled me back the first time I began to move to leave. A few more minutes of kissing and I panted my way out of the car and up the stairs to my apartment door.

Three days in and I told him I wanted to take it slow. I wanted to get to know him. He eagerly told me everything about himself, answering my questions and welcoming more. He wanted me to feel comfortable with him. Ironically, it was I who pushed things forward on our fourth meeting. He told me later that he had known what I wanted when he walked in the door. The glass of wine. The skirt. I had closed the door behind him and locked it. I was painting my toenails pink. He told me he had thought to himself, “Bingo!” lol But he played it cool that evening. He wasn’t in a rush. I’m the one who took his hand and led him back.

I don’t like the idea of writing about sex. It seems…. not my style, exactly. But I have to say, what happened next was amazing! I’ve never felt that kind of connection with someone, so quickly in my life! It was like we were hand crafted to fit together. And it wasn’t just physical. The way he looked in my eyes the entire time. Sigh. He rocked my world that night. He went home around 10pm. I joined Pickle at the Moon. There’s no way I didn’t have rainbows shooting out of my head. I’m sure I must have been glowing. She took one look at me and said, “Oh!….. OK….let’s go over there and talk.” My smile was proof to the world the grace and joy I felt in my mind, body and spirit. Yeah. It was that good.

That weekend, I went to watch him play cricket with his friends. He sat next to me between matches, occasionally yelling out things in other languages to his mates. He gingerly touched my sockless ankle, his finger lingering on my skin. There went my heart rate again. I joined him and his roommates for bbq and drinks after their victory. We stayed up late that night eating, drinking (I drank beer. The roommates drank whiskey. He drank orange juice.) and talked about history, politics and religion. One of his roommates, who supposedly has trouble talking to women, discovered that I am interested in history. He has an interest in conspiracy theories. I spent quite some time trying to convince him that yes, we did land on the moon. The others begged him in Hindu, “Leave her alone. No more questions.”

“Just one more,” the roommate promised. “How was the United States formed?” I laughed and tried to give some annotated version of the founding of our country as Z looked at me, touching my arm and meeting my eyes as I rambled on. I liked being there with his friends and I liked that he was seeing me in my element, being myself.

He began sending me morning messages the day of our first date. Every morning I get an inspirational quote or personal thought. This morning, just after he left at 8am I got a text with a picture of an hour glass with this text on it:

“Life is like an hourglass. Eventually everything hits the bottom and all you have to do is wait it out until someone comes along and turns it around.”

Ka-Damn. Really? Shit!

He loves the rain, he told me one day. He hoped it would rain as he walked home so he could walk in it and get drenched. It didn’t rain that day until about 8pm. I texted him, “It’s raining.” I told him I was watching it from my steps. He came over. We walked in the rain together, holding hands and kissing. He stayed about an hour and went home.

“I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop,” I told a friend. “It already has,” she said. “He’s 24.”

Oh. Yeah. There it is.

He’s going to India for three months in 17 days. I’ve seen my life change in dramatic ways in three months. He talks to me as if the absence is going to be merely a hiatus in our…..whatever word exist for what this is. Love affair? Affair? We’ve known each other 13 days. “A lot can change in three months,” I warned him.

“You think you’re going to feel different about me?” he asked.

You might forget about me,” I told him.

“No,” he quickly answered. “I’m coming to your place the day I get back.”


Even if he comes back and wants to see me right away and even if I still feel the same way about him, it doesn’t change the facts. We’re 20 years apart. He wants to get married and have kids. Been there. Done that. Not doing it again. We’ll have to let go eventually. This can’t be.

So while Pickle waits for her kind, patient, handsome man to figure out what he wants and see about her, I’m burning up in the glow of an ill-fated firestorm, enjoying the warmth until I feel the inevitable pain from the burn.

And I too am left to wonder why and ponder what purpose this liaison has for my life. How is it putting my past into perspective? How is helping me now? What will it be to me years from now?

Duck. Dodge. Weave. Live in the moment. The hourglass has been turned over.


From → Rantings

One Comment
  1. Rose permalink

    Can’t wait for Part III!

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