Life is Busting out ALL Over!

He needs a name.

Posted on: July 13, 2009

He literally came out of nowhere. I had no time for it really. This one was a disappointment and crashed and burned very quickly, which actually was preferable to any awkward motions of dating to be polite that I cannot endure. I thought it was better that way because by the beginning of June, I had no time for dating. Or so I thought. And I thought wrong.

The connection has been instant, feels intense, and sometimes intimidating. But so unbelievably natural, that I feel like I have to barely lift a finger.

I spent most of June out of town. Zipping across the country.

He has made me love phone calls. Long hours worth of phone calls, which I normally dispise, even in the  old days when I would take some smokes to my back porch just to get through a long call with an old friend or a supportive call to my sister. But his phone calls, from his place overlooking the Austin hills to my beautiful but shallow hotel room in Manhattan, his phone calls always made me sad when we eventually hung up.

He is nothing like me. He is a scientist of sorts. His analytical mind makes mine look like I’ve been just wasting my time, when I actually consider analysis one of my strengths. He runs marathons, and not just any marathons, ultra marathons. He puts his body through hell and then decides to run barefoot so he can hear the mechanics of his stride.

He used to love fast cars and now owns the world’s fastest motorcycle, one in which you have to sit in the fetal position to drive. My response? “So you have to drive it on your side?” Naturally, because the only time I ever would lay in the fetal position is while I lay on my bed.

He owns a TV but only to hook up a DVD player. He does not watch TV. I watch so much TV, I have a DVR to record the shows I’m missing because I’m watching another show.

I am not attracted to his looks. Of anything I could imagine I’d like to gaze into, I don’t think I’d choose anything remotely close to what he resembles. Yet, I can’t wait until I get to see his face.

In July, I arrived back to our city.

It has not been perfect. Oh no, in fact, I almost botched it completely. Lost the whole thing in one fell swoop. It was after one  specific instaneous, intense and slightly intmidating time together, I freaked out the next day and decided to lay low for a little while. Let him take the lead on where this would take us next. This had always worked before, the man dictates when and what we define, where we are going, and what we feel. Except this one.

So what did I do? I waited for him, like I had done countless times before. Not for him, specifically, but the waiting for the other to tell me what was right, that I did. And I waited, and I waited. I waited for what seemed like years, but in fact were just days, a week if not a little more. I made a mistake. I assumed he was like every other man I have dated and that their reactions would be his reaction. Then, when my analytical mind couldn’t possibly rationalize the silence any longer, I reached out. I expected defeat, par for the course, what typically happens. “He’s just not that into you”. Except this one.

He reached back. This one sensed that I needed time to process (I did). This one wanted me to come back to him when I was ready (I was). This one was ready to let go if that’s what I wanted (I didn’t). This one didn’t feel rushed but his feelings weren’t the ones who concerned him. Mine were.

He is attentive in ways I would find annoying on paper but makes our time together feel like it counts in so many different ways now.  He responds with a hug or a squeeze  when my boyfriend Pavlovian response is to wince or wait for laughter directed towards me. He tells me stories, but only the ones in which I derive what matters most to him. He states out loud how he is feeling when he is feeling it, and we aren’t even talking major emotions, and I know he means them. He follows through with actions and not words. But his words? His words state the thing I was thinking anyway, but did not want to say.  He looks me in the eye and does not shift his gaze.  He takes his time and I am not bored.

This might turn into something incredible or it might just fade out as another chapter in the Lessons Learned book of my life. Truth be told, I didn’t want to actually write this, because I didn’t want “jinx” anything. But the real truth is, that I want to remember this. Not that I would forget, but should time, emotions and bias influence in anyway, this is how I want to be treated. It is worth it, to feel this way.  Love can be possible again.

I do not have a boyfriend. I am not in love. It doesn’t even matter if it gets to that point here, but the idea that I can see it again, for that, the man deserves to be named (maybe even a category but let’s not rush things).

Name and more stories forthcoming, so stay tuned. This blog is not called Life is Stagnant All Over, after all!


2 Responses to "He needs a name."

This post makes me SO excited for you. 🙂

More details. Stat.

I’ve been a terribly absent blog reader – so I dropped back by and have been reading all your old posts. This was incredibly well-written and so very very…well….normal. I love that I felt like I was in your head. And I don’t even know you! Well done.

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musings and panic attacks of a Chicago girl embarking on a new life in Texas. Only it's not always June and it's not in song.

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