Bad Boyfriend

Utter frustration!  Steve is ALWAYS late (the honeymoon is over.  The time to impress me is over.  The respect is gone. I'm now being taken for granted.  Being on time is the ONE thing that I feel is a sign of respect of some one's life and time.  His tardiness is really starting to irritate me.  "Can't you text and let me know you're late?"  "Sorry, baby, I just got caught up in something." "All I'm asking for is a text."), he never remembers ANYTHING - even if it only matters to him (it's amazing he gets up for work every morning) and worse I feel like this entire relationship is based on what HE wants.  There's no consideration for me what's so ever.  It feels like it's totally on his terms and only on his terms.  I know he doesn't mean to do this, but boy it sure feels that way from where I'm sitting. The most annoying part? He wants me to take care of him like his mother!  Seriously?  I didn't sign up to have a child.  I want a life partner.  A bonafide grown-ass man!  Don't call me mommy.  I'm not your mommy!  "Well, don't you like taking care of me?"  "Sure, but this is what a couple does for one another.  It's because you care, not because I want to be your mother!" "Okay, Mommy."  Errrrr!  See???  Frustration!

Recently, Steve and I have been having some conversations about faith and my desire to go to church.  Just when I've reached a good point of compromise, and feel he has as well, he announces, out of the blue, while sitting on his front porch, that he can't live with a cat.  Can't have one in his house.  "Why?" "Because of all the fur and dust." Seriously?  Seriously.  That's you're reason?  "Well, unfortunately Meow Mix is part of the package with me.  Didn't you read my online profile? I was very open and honest about who I am and what I bring to the relationship.  Or did you just see some nice photos?" Actually, he probably doesn't remember what I had in my profile.  I swear he has early onset Alzheimer's.  "Yes, I read your profile." Hmmmm.  "At some point you are going to have to make compromises.  A relationship can't be on your terms only."  He said nothing and stared out to the street.

This really bothered me and I knew I had to bring it up again, but it took almost a week to find the time, alone to mention it.  So, it was, after an awesome evening running errands, talking and laughing we finally end up at his house having a late dinner.

E: "So, can I ask you something?"
S: "No.  If you're going to ask me something, do it."
E: "Okay, Let me ask you something.  We had a conversation last week that has really been weighing on me.  Are you serious about the cat thing?"
S: "Yes. I don't want all that fur and dust in my house."
E: "You realize she's part of the package?  I can't imagine anyone who loves me, cares about me or even KNOWS me would ask me to send her packing."
S: "Let me put it this way, my last girlfriend, I loved, and I wouldn't have cared if she had a cat or not."
E: Ouch! He clearly doesn't feel the same way about me that I do him.  I've been willing to make compromise and he isn't.  "You don't feel that way about me?"
S: "I'd like to get there."
E: Sigh....tears are welling up.  Time to cut this convo off.  I take one big gulp to finish my wine, set it on the table and say, "It's late, we should go to bed."

I head directly to the bathroom and let the tears go while he does dishes in the kitchen.  I cry hard and fast, wash my face, brush teeth and head to his bedroom where I changed into my t-shirt and crawled in bed.  Steve joins me about 10 minutes later.  After changing his clothes, he crawls in bed and wraps his arms around me.  I have to say it. I roll over to face him, "I would never do to you what she did to you."  "Huh?"  "Your ex who lied and cheated on you.  I would never do that." "I never thought you would."  "I guess I feel that at our age, after four months maybe you should know whether you want to be with someone or not."  Silence. Great. I roll back over my back facing him.  He removes his arms and instead pulls his legs up behind mine, spooning me.

I was SO hurt by what he said, and I KNOW that I was simply interpreting what he said as it affected me.  Steve could never say anything to purposely hurt me.  Time to call reinforcements: the BFF.

E: "So, what do you think?" after I explained the entire situation.
BFF: "Yep, that all sounds about right.  My hubby is the same.  Hell, all men are the same. But I love hubby and that's just how it is.  I've come to learn that men and women just don't think the same.  I'm always thinking of hubby.  For instance, I always turn the porch light on for him when he's out and I've gone to bed.  I used to get frustrated asking him to do the same and he never would.  Doesn't he care about me?  It's just a nice gesture.  He's never going to leave the porch light on but I know he loves me and it's not for lack of that.  He simply just doesn't think about it.  As far as the cat situation, it's clear to me that he wants to fall in love with you, he's just not there yet.  Give it some time and let it happen.  He will and the whole situation will be moot."

Sigh..she's totally right.  How nice to know I'm not alone and not crazy.  I really was beginning to question if this relationship was right for me.  With that said, another trusted friend said "E, you and I are masters of self-sabotage.  You're scared and making a mountain out of a mole hill.  I think you need to step back, not say anything any more and let your relationship happen."  Thanks, girls.  You're both totally right.

The next few days were not easy.  Typically when Steve and I are in the car, he grabs my hand.  Nada.  Not even near touching me.  In fact, he wasn't even trying to kiss me or be affectionate in general.  This is a problem.  Something is definitely up.  I keep things light and don't bring up anything!  I swear, I didn't.  Then one night we were hanging out at my house and I made my move.  Maybe we need some make up sex. And I couldn't have been more right.  A little sexual healing goes a long way and the next night when he picked me up after work, his hand reached out to mine in the car and held it the entire ride.

xoxo

Diarrhea, Diarrhea

It was Thursday morning and Steven had the day off, as his days off run every six days and so we only have a real weekend together every six weeks, (That's like twice in our relationship, but he's a good sport knowing the rest of the world's schedule doesn't exactly jive with his.) and he decided we should go to brunch, because that's what ordinary people do with their weekends.  The problem is that most restaurants actually only have brunch on the weekends so it was one of a handful of diners always open for breakfast, The Original Pancake house, IHOP (Yes, we have a few in the city) or one of my favorite places not too far from my house.

I love Wishbone.  It's soul food at it's best but also serves enough regular menu items that appeal to everyone, especially breakfast.  After a sex marathon the night before, or what now constitutes as a sex marathon for two people no longer in their 20's, we were starving.  A quick shower and we were out the door.

It's funny how relationships move a bit faster the older you get. In the past, I would have been so concerned with looking perfect that I would lock myself in the bathroom with my clothes, shower and wash off the mascara that had run down my cheeks during sex (the big thing is washing my hair...this boy can turn it into a birds nest in NO TIME FLAT!), put on my makeup, dry my hair, all in a steamy bathroom, only to open the door and step out in a heavy midst, with some slight sweat, but looking perfectly made up and ready to go.  I would feel like Kelly LeBrock in "Wierd Science" who, after being created by a boy and his computer, seemed to appear in perfection out of a fog.

At this age, and with Steve, I wake up with raccoon eyes and he tells me I'm beautiful.  I feel so comfortable with him that showering with Steve is nothing.  He looks at me like I'm the most incredible thing he's ever seen including a light cat call whistle - jiggles, cellulite and all hanging from here and there.  Albeit, he is pretty much blind without his glasses up to about a foot away - HELPFUL!  This morning, I showered, put on just enough cover up to not look like I had only managed three hours of sleep the night before, threw on some comfy clothes and we were out the door.

Those in Chicago share a common love for Wishbone, no matter the location, although I think both the food and service are best in Lakeview.  Steve is so excited I recommended the restaurant that I think he peed himself a little.  We manage to park, pay the rip off parking fee (thank you City of Chicago for selling our parking meters and then spending the $1B, mostly on the bid for the Olympics, which we lost, leaving the tax payers, once again, holding the bag.  I thought we were Democrats!), and head off to the restaurant.  We get a good table, but not the best.  The best tables are the booths by the windows - lots of light and great people watching as people walk up and down the street.  I order coffee and Steve, obsessed with juice, orders two tall orange juices.  We sit and talk, laughing, mostly.

I love how we just harass one another.  It reminds me of who I really am.  When I was younger, this sassy-smart ass quality apparently drove guys crazy because I had them flocked around me.  It was as if I held them just far enough away to say, "I like you but you can't have me.....yet!"  This has been the element missing, amongst others, in past relationships.  You know, the "I want him to like me so much that I'm afraid to be me?"  Well, I now know if that's the case then that person is not the right one for you.

"Are you ready to order?" says the waitress. I reply "Could you give us a few minutes?"  We were so consumed with talking about nothing important.  "Yeah, a few minutes," Steve says.  "I'm too busy admiring the vision in front of me."  (Okay, we can all collectively throw up a little in our mouths). I, being conscious that I am consuming about 1,000 cals more a day (AT LEAST) dating Steve, conservatively order the egg white, spinach, mushroom and tomato omelet with tomatoes on the side (my ass doesn't need the home fries - no matter how much Steve loves "the butt").  On the other hand, Steve decides on the Red Eggs.  Hmmm...are you sure about that?  Red Eggs, beans, hot sauce..it's not like we're recovering from hangover, but our age (shutup I said it and it's time I admit to the "changes") it's just not the best idea.  And it wasn't but I didn't know until we were finished.

"I have to go to the bathroom."  "Okay."  I sit, enjoy some more coffee and looking out the window to some people watching and thinking...All these people off to work, like most normal people.  I DO enjoy my lifestyle.  What kind of dollar figure would I put on it?  Well, whatever it is, I love it but I am not ready to reveal my financial truth to Steven so maybe it's time to start the hunt again.  I remember how exciting it was to get up each morning and head to my office on Michigan Avenue, even the one in the burbs...and having a car.  I do miss having a car.  Freedom.  To reach this goal I would have no choice but to reveal myself and if he doesn't kick me to the curb I could take care of it living together, but why should I EVER expect him to support me.  Damn it, E!  That's the thinking that your Dad instilled in you - strong, don't need anyone, independent - not such a bad thing, but can be.  Now it's simple embarrassment about my reality.  How the FUCK did I get here?  How did I even let it happen?  Making just enough to get by on, clients paying late, overdraft fees and sometimes bad checks that totally fuck me over...that totals an extra thousand dollars a year and then the government STILL wants money after that.  What the HELL?  I know what's held me back - daddy and male family figure's expectations of me, but isn't that just imagined.  Stop it, E, you're making yourself crazy.  But I want a nice home and life.  I should be able to have this.  How the hell do others do this?  Oh, yeah, they're married or have a trust fund.  Well you have neither so it's time to be the scrapper you were raised to be.  You're just going to have to make time and put your foot down with Steve so you can concentrate on what you need to do for YOU! "There's someone in the bathroom." "Oh."  Steve is still standing.  A bit antsy.  He then sits.  "Well, you should wait, I'm sure they won't be long." "You're right. I'll go check again."

Okay, it's official, E, you're certifiably crazy.  It's not like you're the only one who has suffered in this economy.  It's hard to do this on your own and, not to mention, you've just celebrated 10 years in business...that's a milestone.  A major one.  People WISH they could say this.  It gives you so much more credibility.  Okay, so Pittsburgh didn't work out and maybe that's because you look so young, but FUCK 'em.  You're great at what you do and it's about time you say...outloud.  Celebrate your success and show a little pride.  God won't strike you down.  He wants the best for you...."  "There's another person in the bathroom now."  For God's SAKE, I know there are multiple stalls in the women's bathroom...what's going on?  "Okay, well, we can head to mine. Why don't you check one last time."  Standing with small grimace, "Okay."  Geez, E, here is this man totally enamored of you.  But what if he finds out my truth and leaves me.  This could happen.  E!  Shutup.  Do what you gotta do until that happens.  Take it slow.  Take care of your shit as best as possible and worry about it when it comes up.  Sigh.  "Here's your bill."  "Thanks."  Not sure of the amount of money in my bank account at this very moment, I whip out my debit card with complete confidence that God will provide and pay the bill.  E, all you need is a little faith.  He will lead you.  He's never left you behind and always provided for you when you really needed it.  You'll be fine.  It's time to get your house in order. "Thanks," says the waitress.  I pay the bill and return to my internal battle.

"Uhm...they're not coming out of the bathroom," Steve says sitting.  "Okay, well we'll just head to mine." "Okay, now?  Where's the bill?"  I wink.  He smiles, "You didn't have to."  "But I did.  I can afford breakfast."  I think.  It wasn't rejected.  "Uhm, okay, we have to go RIGHT NOW." "Oh! Okay."

We head out of the restaurant, turn the corner and walk the 100 feet or so to his car.  Steve is clearly walking a few paces faster than me.  "Are you okay?" "Yep," he says shortly.  "Just need to go to the bathroom."  OH!!!!!!!!  I start to walk faster and hop in the car.  We're about 10 blocks from my house but Steve drove like the car was on fire - or rather his ass was on fire.  Poor guy, we hit every red light in those 10 blocks.  All four of them.  He was really antsy.  So much he couldn't even talk.  "How are you?"  "Need to get to your house." I smile and give a little chuckle.  "Okay." We pull up and he goes to park.  "Do you have your keys out?" "Yep." "You go ahead and I'll come up."  "Okay."  No joke.  I knew the emergency.  I saw it in his sweet brown eyes.  The feeling of dire urgency.  The kind of urgency that would leave more than skid marks in his shorts if he didn't make it to a bathroom and fast.

I run up the front stairs, unlock my door while he parks the car, run up the stairs to my apartment, I head him, now, running behind me and up the stairs.  Steve is unbuckling his pants as he runs up the stairs.  I cut the corner after opening the door and head to my office on the other side of the apartment.  Once there I turn on my computer and immediately launch Windows Media Player and blast some music. Hey, I know what it's like.  I have a fear of pooping in public bathrooms.  I totally "clam up", for lack of a better term.   I hear Steve close and lock the bathroom door and I begin to work like nothing has happened.  HELLO!  The honeymoon is over. He has diarrhea in front of you, the initial romance where you both smell like roses and have no bad faults is now over!

Eventually, the victim makes his way to the door of my office.  Looking a little worn out, a look of relieve crosses his face.  "That was a close call."  I laugh.  "Apparently!  Thank goodness we weren't head to your place." "Oh my GOSH!" he says in his Chee-ca-go accent. "No kidding.  I wouldn't have made it and you might have seen the end of me."  "Really?"  "Uhm, yeah, what man's pride can recover from shitting his pants?"  I just laugh until I cry. "Well, honey, we've all been there. Again, glad I live so close."  He sighs and laughs, "Yeah!".

So, here we are.  I joke that I feel like I have a target on me and Steve has his arrow aimed on it and it's true what people say, when it's right, it's natural and when shit happens (pun intended) you still like and want that person.  After all, eventually shit does happen and it could have been me.  So I got up and kissed him and he bid adieu so I could work and I just chuckled to myself thinking about the morning.

xoxo

My Harry

Over the last few weeks, as I begin to slowly announce to friends that I now, officially, have "A Boyfriend", I get the same questions - What's he like? What does he look like? Tell me about him...

Fortunately, I was clever enough to save a picture from his profile before deleting my account, but that doesn't seem to suffice.  So, like any woman, I further cyber stalked him into his Facebook page.  (I know you're wondering why we aren't friends on FB yet, but it's just one of those steps we'll get around to.  I'm enjoying the pace of not rushing into anything.)  On his FB page, I am able to see all of his photos, probably because we have some friends in common.  Digging....digging.... hmmmm...blonde gal, looks Russian....hmmmm....an ex.  I am much prettier.  HA!  I finally find the perfect picture of him at a restaurant, ready to dig into his meal and smiling.  For a moment, I think he looks like Harry from Sex & The City and then I realize, he is Harry from Sex & The City.  He's my Harry.

I always thought I wanted Smith - I've dated Smiths - but clearly they couldn't give me what I needed because, unlike Smith, they're all too in love with themselves to love anyone else.

Of course, this is all confirmed after immediately popping in the S&TC DVDs when Harry first comes on the scene.  Of course!  Hairy back, a guys' guy, a little uncouth, totally NOT what I expected (I mean completely NOT the person I expected), sometimes crass, a clown, willing to get on his knees in the middle of the grocery store to beg for a kiss, happy go lucky, he is who he is, and absolutely so sweet to Charlotte.  How could she, or I, resist?  As one website describes Harry,

"Are a smooth head and a hairy back your cup of tea? Are you looking for a man who makes you laugh but is a wildcat in the sack?"

Yep, Steven is MY Harry.  He's goofy, silly, sometimes vulgar, not accustomed to a lot of the finer things in life, which were beat into me, and always so sweet to me.  He makes it clear everyday how he feels about me.  No three words can make that any better than it already it is.  So, here's to all the Harry's.  You have so much more to offer us women than you know, and you will meet a beautiful woman who sees it and appreciates it!



xoxo

Super Bowl "Party"

I was excited to meet Steven's friends at the Super Bowl "Party".  I put it in quotes because it wasn't really a party, more like some friends getting together at a bar.  Nonetheless, he wanted to introduce me to his friends.  That is a step in the right direction.

Dressing to meet someone's friends, especially when you know a lot of them are women, is tough.  We women are so critical of one another and I truly believe that on most occasions we actually dress for other women.  Ourselves, but for other women.  Women are the one's who will compliment you on how you "cute" you look or give a "I LOVE those shoes, where did you get them."  There's no better compliment.  Some guys can say it, like my gay boys, but straight boys just think you look hot and that's it.  Yeah, that always makes you feel good, but there's something about a compliment from another woman.  It's almost like jealousy!  LOL  I went for cute casual, pairing jeans with a winter white sweater with a zipper on the neck to the shoulder blade and brown boots, and decided it didn't really matter.  They're either going to like me or not.

Steven came to pick me up and we were off.  I've noticed that when I'm with him I just let go, meaning I don't ask where we're going, what we're doing or try to control his driving with directions.  I trust him and just go with the flow.  We ended up at a bar in Old Town I've never been too and proceed to get a seat.  I don't ask about his friends, but soon realize it's only a couple of us and the one woman can't come.  Soon, it's me and one of his guy friends.

This guy is interesting, I would learn.  He moved here and his gf introduced him to Steven, who took him under his wing and showed him the city.  He and I quickly have several things to talk about and decided to trade business cards. Overtime, I begin to notice that every time he and I start talking, Steven would slowly reach out to put his hand on my knee.  I really like that he's so affectionate, it's something I really need in a relationship.  Call it reassurance but I like to know my man is into me, even in public.  But this was a little different.  When I looked at his face there was an intent there as he gently touched me but his face was hard as he looked straight ahead at the TV screen.  It was serious and I believe I got a glimpse of what he would be like on the job in an urgent situation.  It was like there was some competition there....for me.  Geesh, he should just lift his leg an pee on me.  That would show the other dogs who belongs to who. We all decide to root for Green Bay, and good thing we did.

Sitting in front of us were just the kind of douche bag guys I would normally be attracted to - good looking, really fit, dressed well....HOT!  I watched them but secretly liked that I didn't have to worry about trying to catch their attention.  These are the guys I would typically date who just want you to look good and be good in bed.  They don't want to talk.  They don't want to know you, because they don't know themselves.  They're so busy trying to be cool that they only see the world in one way - they're way. Or I should say that they're living life the way they think others think they should be living life - cool, getting action and without regard to anyone else.  They were definitely in their 30's but acted like they were 24 getting completely wasted on a Sunday night and making complete fools of themselves.  It wasn't long before one of the guy's girlfriends got pissed and took off.  He went after her but she wanted nothing to do with him.  Good for her. 

The game ended and we left.  We took his friend home and Steven opened up to me about him.  Apparently he's CHEAP.  In fact, he ate and drank and then didn't offer to pay.  CHEAP! Moreover, it seems that he's not an ethical business person and has been known to rip his clients off to get more commission on what he sells.  No thank you!!!  I thanked him for telling me and that I would proceed with caution.  Furthermore, if the fact he never pays shows total disregard for Steven's friendship then the fact that he has been a "girl stealer" solidifies it.  Steven told me stories of when they would go out.  He would meet a girl and start talking to her, walk away for a second and his friend had already moved in on her.  It's like Steven was the warm up act.  I could feel the animosity towards his friend and it's like he was getting angry all over again.  Sitting there in the car, I couldn't help but wonder why he would choose to invite this friend to be the first to meet me.  Then I realized that in Steven's mind he was showing his friend that HE won in the end.  

That night we came back to my house for a bit and I told him that I wasn't going to be able to see him until Friday night.  I simply can't afford to get completely wrapped up in him, letting my mind daydream about what might come.  The focus has to remain on me getting done what I need to do for ME!  And it's quite a bit to accomplish, but winning this new piece of business would help....A LOT!

I kind of felt bad because we'd had a couple of attempts of trying to seal the deal without the desired outcome, so I didn't want him to think I was walking away, but just needed to get my own shit done.  Not to mention the fact I had just spent $500 on a trip to Pittsburgh to pitch this new business, so I'm sweating the financial situation a little.  YEAH!  I know!  It's really, REALLY rare that a company asks you to come to them to pitch and then doesn't fork over the money to get you there.  Ironically, the organization is HQ'd in Chicago.  Go figure.  In the end I resolved myself to believing that God would not give me the opportunity if I couldn't handle it....financially.

I walked him to the door.  He lingered taking every kiss he could get and then he was gone.

xoxo

Delayed Details

Hey, gang!  I ended up on the phone with Steven for 2.5 hours last night (my writing time), so no story about Sunday's Super Bowl party just yet.  Promise...it's coming.  I was getting a little concerned that he wasn't calling me so I texted:

E: Hey, do you miss me yet?
S: Uhm....no! :)
S: Of course I do, babe!

So then I called him, hoping he would feel more confidence in calling me.  All I can say is that we laugh as much over the phone as in person, and he shared his entrepreneurial ideas with me.  I told him I am more than happy to guide him through it, but I'm not going to become a girl he pity dates so I can help him with his business ideas.  He laughed.  Much like the guy I dated who, once he met my cat, really just came over to hang out and love on her.  She's extraordinary, no doubt, but I felt like a single mom whose boyfriend was afraid to break up with her because he loves her child more than her. 

So, I'm off to Pittsburgh.  Whether I will go to Chuck's viewing is still up in the air (he's from Pitt).  I don't do viewings very well.  Maybe it's just me, but I don't get the concept of "the viewing".  I don't want my last memory of him to be in a coffin.  We'll see.....but I'm doubting it.

Steven is picking me up at the airport tomorrow night and has a plan for the weekend.  I like a man with a plan.  I think I'll ask if he has a plan for me - via "He's Just Not That Into You" (aka one of my bibles!)

Cheers and details to come!

xoxo

Steven Opens Up....

You should all be relieved.  I felt SO different with Steven tonight and even better by the end of the night. It was amazingly comfortable and easy.   

He picked me up at 5:40p and, as per usual, I was ready to go and peering out my living room blinds for him.  I watch him park his car and get out wearing that DAMNED fur hat!  Ugh, I hate that thing!  We head to the grocery to pick a few items for the dinner I was making him - Seared Scallops with thin multi-grain spaghetti with tomatoes, garlic, Parmesan and olive oil accompanied by spring greens lightly drizzled in olive oil.  At the store, he followed me, as I walk very fast and determined.  I had several things for this recipe already at home, packed them in a recyclable grocery bag and brought it with.  Produce, fish counter, dairy and wine and head to the self check out.  I ring everything up and the clerk says "Do you have ID."  I turn my back to show her my ID and then carefully place it back in my python card case.  As I turn around, Steven is running his card through the machine to buy the food.  "This was supposed to be my treat."  "I know, but I wanted to." "Okay, that's very nice of you," I whisper "but you didn't have to." He looks at me and smiles.

Back towards the car and Steven grabs my hand again.  He's always, always holding my hand.  We get in the car and make the trek back to his house.  As we drive in the snow we spin and turn - this guy knows how to drive! "I love this car.  All wheel drive rocks!" I laugh at his purely manly enthusiasm as I grip the card door hand thinking it will actually protect me in an impact.  I'm more concerned about the other people on the road then Steven.

As we pull up to his house, the street is clearly a mess and yet he just plows right through it all.  In Chicago there is this long standing tradition that once you've done the hard work of digging yourself out of the snow, you reserve the spot with a broom, folding chair, desks, you know, whatever happens to be handy.  This street is no different.  It's comical, really, until someone steals your stuff and your parking space.  Once inside and stripped of all wet outerwear, I head to the kitchen and begin taking everything out of the bags and positioning them on the table island.  He opens the wine while I take roasted pepper hummus and spread it on a plate, microwave for 20 seconds, drizzle some olive oil, fan multi-grain and flax seed crackers around it and present it to him as The Appetizer.  He loves it and comes around to give me a hug as thanks....with a mini make out.

As I get everything ready his idle hands are all over me and I decide it's time to put them to work, "You'll manage the pasta, because I know you've got that down, and I'll do the rest." "Ok," he says with an attempt at another make out.  "Get to work!!"  I grab the tomatoes and garlic and ask him for a knife.  Boy does he have a knife.  Chef grade.  It sliced through a tomato perfectly.  "This is an amazing knife.  Where did you get it."  "Work." "Oh right because you need to have them for work." Laugh. "No the sales reps come in to sell to the airport restaurants.  I bought a few."  "Oh, yeah, that makes sense." "Hold that thought."  He comes back moments later with another knife, exactly like the one I'm holding except with a black handle.  "Get your grimy hands off my knife!"  uhm...what? "This is for you." "But I have one." "No, this is yours.  I want you to have it." uhm, that's like a $100 knife, dude. "I really can't.  Yes, you will. I'll set it over here for you." "Thank you!"

While I'm chopping I ask:

E:  "So, I don't mind the texting, but why don't you call me.  Not a phone guy?"
S: He smiles. "It's not that I haven't wanted to, I just don't know when you're busy."
E: "Well, if I'm busy I won't answer!"
S: He laughs.  "Yeah, simple as that."
E: "So tell me something about you that I don't know." I look up to the smirk-smile.  "What?" I say "Entertain me while I'm doing this."
S: "Okay, I moved around from school to school growing up.  Later I worked at the Chicago Board of Trade for 10 years from the age of 18-28."
E: "Wow, were you a runner?"
S: "I started off as a runner."
E: "And then you just decided it wasn't fulfilling enough?"
S: "Yeah, I guess that's it. And yyoooouuu??"
E: "Well, I spent most of my life as a performer - dance, theater, singing, and such.  I went to school on scholarship to sing and loved it.  I feel that I'm an instrument for this amazing music.  It wasn't about me, and that came back to hurt me.  I was raised to be far too modest and I lacked all Divaness.  Then I asked myself if I wanted to teach - no - or do I want to wait tables in New York auditioning with 20,000 girls who look and sound like me?  Not really.  Not to say I wasn't unique. I was small, petite with a huge voice that could be heard over a 200-piece orchestra and 150-person choir.  I loved it, still do, but have no regrets about changing my major to journalism.  I simply didn't have the 'I have to do this to live' feeling in my gut.  I do miss it. After I lost my scholarship I worked as a waitress and bartender to help pay my tuition."

Steven comes around the table, takes the knife from my hand and gives me a big hug.  "Ouch!" "What," he stops suddenly.  "My back, from shoveling yesterday.  It's really sore."  "Well, I will give you a massage to make it feel better."  I smile.

I decide to cook all of the scallops so he can eat them for leftovers.  When it was all complete, I prepared each plate and we go into the living room to sit at the big ass table to eat.  He digs in and is loving it.  "This is so good." "I know, and it's so easy, don't you think?"  "Hhmmmm..."  That was pretty much the rest of the meal until I look up and find a huge stuffed giraffe staring at me. " Uhm..." he looks at me. "Giraffe???"  He laughs.  "You like that?  When restoration hardware was having their bankruptcy sales I bought it for my niece and nephew." "So why isn't it at their house?"  "They wanted to keep it here so they have something to play with."  "Ahhh..."

I gotta give it to Steven.  He downed six big scallops, salad and pasta, clearing his plate.  I say, "I'm stuffed.  It would be great to go take a walk."  "Okay, let's." "Seriously?" "Yeah."  So we bundle up in our outwear and head out to walk around the block in the frigid temps.  "You should wear your knit cap it will keep you warmer." "I'm fine," as he puts on ear covers and that stupid fur hat!

It's cold but it feels good. We talk about his neighborhood as I point out interesting architectural and design elements I see.  "It's changed a lot since I moved in," he says. "I used to hear gunshots all the time."  "Didn't that scare you?" "Nah, I'm a better shot." I suddenly wonder where he leaves his gun in the house.  (Sidebar: I did do some more research and he is a Marshall whose assignment is on the ground.) Instead of turning right to make the walk around the block complete he says "Turn left". We turn left and come upon the park.  Steven lives a good three to four miles from the lakefront but he's right by a huge park with lagoon, tennis courts, softball fields and more.  I've seen it in the summer and it's actually quite beautiful.  No doubt the park is empty but the drive through it is clear and we make that our path.  At one point he let's go of my right hand, stops, I keep walking, and then comes up on my left grabbing that hand.  Nice.  A real gentleman always walks on the outside of a lady.  Nice!

We decide to cross the street and venture into the area, which is normally grass, towards the softball field.  There was two feet of snow and we were like moose picking up each leg up and out of the snow.  By the time we stop, we're both winded.  We stand there for a few minutes inhaling the cold air and enjoy the quite beauty and he wraps his arms around me.  We decide to go.

S: "Let's go this way," and he starts to pull me to the right.
E: "Uhm, let's not."  While we were standing there, I saw a guy stumble into the snow towards a tree.
S: "Why?"
E: "Cuz that guy is peeing on the tree over there." Chicago has embraced public urination!
S:  He laughs. "Yeah, okay."

We walk through the softball field to the road, passing the most beautiful snow angels, and he again steps to the outside of me. Nice. About 10 minutes later we're back in the warmth of his house, of which he actually turned the heat up.  Snow is everywhere and we carefully undress and he turns his neck to reveal a crick.  I start to massage it and he leads me into his bedroom.

When he opens the door I see a huge four-banister bed with matching light wood strips linking the tops, perfect for a mosquito net.  It's not a large room, as is very traditional in old Chicago homes, but somehow he's managed to cram his office desk and a huge, tall metal filing cabinet in.  This guy needs a woman's touch!  The mattress, Tempurpedic.  Awesome!  He lays down and I massage his neck and back.  The more I rub his shoulders through the shirt, the more crinkling noise I hear...and feel.  BACK HAIR!!!  Seriously??? Really?  COME ON!!  Sooner or later we switch, I pull off my turtle neck after working up a small sweat massaging his tight back, and lay in my tank top and leggings. He starts to give my back the massage it's been crying for all day, except he can't rally stay focused.  He continues to lean down to kiss my neck and shoulders.  "Hey, I'm serious, I need this!" It was a generous massage lasting about 15 minutes.  Afterwards we lie on the bed, making out and talking.

S: "So what is your hesitation?"
E: "What? With sex?"
S: "Yeah"
E: "I promised myself I would do it right this time, that I wouldn't jump into anything."
S: "Why?"
E: "Because that's what I've done in the past and the relationships didn't have substance."
S: "What were they?"
E: "I dressed up well for parties and dinners out; I looked good for their friends.  We never talked and they never seemed interested in me."
S: "Oh." Make out.
S: "Tell me about your first boyfriend."
E: I laugh. "My first boyfriend lasted about 10 minutes.  He was my first kiss." We played around as I imitated the reenactment of my first kiss.  Hilarious.  I was actually in fifth grade..... "Yours?"
S: "It was ninth grade and I started dating this girl.  My brother met her and said 'dude, you can do so much better than that!', but all of my friends had girlfriends and I wanted one too.  So I got one."  We laugh.  "So tell me about your last relationship."
E: "He was the first in a long time to treat me with respect.  He was super sweet to me, wanted to court me and I felt I deserved it.  Then he dropped a bombshell that I just couldn't help him with."
S: "What do you mean"
E: "He told me he was in recovery"
S: "For what?"
E: "Alcohol mostly but I often wondered if there was something harder.  It was sad. He had just recently gotten out of rehab for the second time." I didn't go into more details.
S: "Oh."
E: "Are you uncomfortable that I am not jumping into sex with you?"
S: "Well, no, but for me it defines everything."
E: "What do you mean? That it means that we're officially together?"
S: "Yes." He says with a smile.  So, you're eager to take me off the market??  LOL  He kisses me and the looks linger. He softly touches my face. "Do you still have your online profile up?"
E: "Yes, but I haven't checked it in awhile. Do you?"
S: "No. I took it down."
E: "Why?"
S: "Because I really like you."
E: "So what did you think the other night when I didn't want to come into the bedroom with you?"
S: "I just thought you hadn't made your choice yet."
Silence.
E: "I suppose I'm just looking for someone who will be patient with me. Who will make me laugh."
S: "I can do that." And with those words he rolled me on to my back, lifted up my tank top and gave me a huge zurburt on the stomach.  I laughed and laughed.
E: I catch my breath as he lies down next to me. "I like that you asked and we talked about this.  Keep talking to me. Deal?"
S: "Always."

The conversation and making out continued until I finally drew the line and said I have to go home.

I felt exponentially better knowing where his head was at, and I'm sure he feels better as well.  I think it was feeling the pressure of sex that had me feeling like I was out of control; as if I'd lose him if I didn't, and I don't like that.  We've only been on FOUR dates! I just need to wrap my head around all of this.  This is what I want, I just have to go step-by-step for myself.

He's right, I haven't made my decision yet because of fear and what not, but I'm closer.  Definitely closer.  But I do have to say, there's nothing like letting him work for it a little bit.  He doesn't need to know that I haven't dated anyone else.  There's no harm.  No answer is not lying.  There has to be a reason why none of those other guys really go into contact and asked me out.  I believe that God works in mysterious ways. 


Next date: Saturday late afternoon.  Ice skating and hot chocolate - we really have to get out of the house and out to do something! LOL  Plus, I might not be able to see him until I get back from the new business pitch in Pittsburgh next Friday.  Ugh...Valentine's Day...

xoxo

Steven: Date Three

Someone's nose must have been itching because in moments after posting yesterday, Steven texted:

S: "Are you driving or do you want me to pick you up"
E: "I don't have a car but happy to cab it.  What time?
S: I'll pick you up. 6pm."
E: "Okie Dokie"

What? No "Hi gorgeous"?  Hmmmm....come on and keep the flirting going, dude!

My outfit was laid out on my bed, I showered at 2:30 and then chilled with Meow Mix to paint my nails with a glass of wine.  This is painstaking as some of my polish, I can never remember which, gets bubbly.  Fuck!  Do over! And...Do over!  Finally, acceptable, but not perfect.  I can live with it.

It's Sunday and that means I call my Mom and Dad.  Because I'm meeting Steven at 6:00 (my regular call time) I call her at 4:00.  "Hi!" "Hi, yourself." "What are you doing?" "I'm watching Dr. Zhivago.  I've never seen it."  "Okay, well call me back but I have a date at 6:00 so if not we can talk tomorrow."  "Okay, Love you!" "Love you!" I go back to watching TV and fanning my nails as if I'm desperate to lift myself off the couch by that motion alone.

At 5: 15 I slowly get ready and Steven shows up at my house right on time.  I know this because I am totally ready and see him through the living room blinds walk up to the house.  Wait for him to knock.  Waiting, toe tapping.   Come on and just knock on the door. I can even hear him coughing on the front stoop. The phone rings. "Hi!" "Hi! I'm downstairs."  "Okay, I'll be two shakes."

I walk downstairs and he's at the door with this smirk-smile he does.  It's like he knows something know one else does, and yet it must be funny because it's not devilish, but just....happy.  A quick kiss hello, he grabs my hand, helps me down the stairs and into the car.  We're off....to his place.

I've come to realize over the years that you can never anticipate what a guy's place will be like.  The one's who look so put together can live in a complete pigsty and those who you think are a total mess are the complete opposite at home.  Still, you do get those who are a mess all around and those men who are so totally meticulous about their home you're afraid to touch anything.  It's like being in a museum and you're ready for them to say "I don't use dishes.  They get dirty, so we'll just eat off the freshly polished floors."  With Steven, I had no idea what to expect but figured it wasn't going to be too bad. 

Steven doesn't actually live that far from me, but it was certainly a neighborhood I haven't been in before - remember when I said in a few minutes you can be in a completely different neighborhood?  Even if you've lived in the city 20 years.  It's true.  He owns a three-flat brownstone that he purchased in the late 90's and did a complete gut rehab.  He rents out the second floor to a gal with two dogs, who bark non-stop until she gets home.  Smells like separation anxiety and possibly lack of exercise.  Anywhoo...I'm not here to be the Dog Whisperer apprentice, which I'd actually enjoy, come to think of it.  The third floor is vacant, at the moment.

We park outside the house.  I get out of the car and he comes around to meet me, grabbing my hand and helping we walk carefully across the snow laden grass patch (this is what we call a yard in Chicago) to the front gate, which he gingerly unlocks and then helps me up the cement stairs - original to the 100 year-old house.  There's some ice and he immediately grabs a scoop of de-icer and puts it down.  Brownstones that are broken up into flats typically have one main door that immediate leads to two doors - one for the main floor apartment and one to the second floor.  The third floor entrance is normally off the back of the house.  His door is on the right and we walk in.  Immediately in front of me is a beautiful, large umbrella holder.  A large wall mirror to my left.  I turn to look past the open wall banister into his living room with large, but comfortable looking furniture, two almost tragic pieces of artwork, a large, wooden square coffee table just about a foot tall, and....the projector.  This is a strange new, or at least new to me, trend for boys with toys.  They might have a television and a projector or just the projector.  In this case, there's only the projector, right in front of me, pointing at what would be a beautiful bay of windows but is actually covered by a large retractable screen.  Boys and their toys.  It's hilarious.

I follow Steven to the left through the open floor plan into the dining room.  Here is where he keeps most of his travel treasures from South America.  They adorn the fireplace mantel and above them is a gorgeous oil painting of a long dark-haired woman in a red skirt and white top off her left shoulder.  She is sitting in a chair shyly looking out to us.  She's like a Latino Mona Lisa.  I can't take my eyes off of her. In the center of the room is a large, and I actually mean, HUGE wood table surrounded by an assortment of antique chairs - two leather studded chairs at each end.  It must have taken an army of strapping (mmm..yum) men to move this monstrosity in to the house.  At both ends, the table has a beautiful ceramic tile inlay. Two extra chairs sit in the corners.  This thing is so huge I don't how anyone would get around the table to get those chairs.  It's beautiful but just too big for the space.  As I turn left to follow him down the hallway I notice a wood built in full of his travel treasures - masks made of porcelain and wood, textiles, books and little knick knacks.  I walk down the hall passed the bathroom - big and gorgeous with white subway tile and this ornate cabinet and sink.  I'll check more of that out later.  More artwork in the hallway.

I see the kitchen ahead of me and walk in.  The floors throughout the space are all original.  As I look right the cream, ornate, Mediterranean-inspired cabinets sweep around two walls with the sink in the corner.  Sweeping around further at the end of the cabinets are two rustic wood shelving units with all kinds of unique foods. Passed the door to the back and the refrigerator stands alone. In the center of the room is an old table with two large pieces of granite sitting on top (these granite pieces also appear on the counter tops, which are not granite themselves.

When I walk in Steven is in the process of getting everything ready for dinner.  He pulls out a box of noodles, a huge plastic jug of Ragu, a large jar of minced garlic and a bag of Swiss cheese slices.  No kidding.  I can't make this shit up.  This is dinner.  He turns to put water in the pan and reaches out for me.  I succumb and he kisses me.  Both of us forget about the water for a moment until I pull away.  Normally in this situation I would be uncomfortable and pull away immediately, but I didn't.  I've resolved to let love in and there's only one way, to allow it to happen; to give it a shot.  He turns to pull the pot out from under the water and put it on the burner.  In the meantime, I walk to a spot by the table.  After turning on the burner he comes to me, opens his arms and we just...hug.  It seemed like eternity and yet it ended too quickly.  He pulls away slightly and kisses me again this time with much more diligence.  He steps away to stir the noodles.

Steven isn't really a chatty guy.  He's kind of quiet and walks around with his smirky-smile, perfectly content in his own world. So I begin to ask him questions about his family.  "My mom lives in Puerto Rico, so we have someplace to visit!" She moved shortly after her divorce to his father.  He is the middle child of three boys and then a half brother.  His youngest brother moved to Puerto Rico with his mother.  Two live close by and one in Miami.  "Have you been to Miami?  We have a place to stay when we go."  Hmmm...making future plans....hmmmm.  The saddest part is that when his mother comes to visit she chooses to spend time with his brother and his kids.  I can tell it kind of bothers him.  "Do you want to watch a movie?"  "Sure."  He leads me back to the living room and pulls out three large plastic trays of movies. Two more remain on the floor next to the couch.  It's either the "Tales of Despereaux", "Battlestar Galactica" or "Get Smart".  I pick the latter.

I walk back into the kitchen and ask him more about his house.  "Yeah, and it's great to have a roommate to help out."  What? Uhm...roommate was never mentioned before.  "Well, it's nice of him to let you have the place to yourself tonight." Cough. "Uhm yeah."

The noodles are done and he pulls out two colorful plates out of the cabinet and sets them on the table.  After draining, he grabs one plate and spoons some spaghetti on to it, sets it down in front of me and instructs me to scoop my preferred amount of garlic on the noodles.  He then takes the big jug of Ragu and pours it on until I say stop.  Next he takes two slices of Swiss cheese, places it on top of the concoction, covers it and puts it in the microwave.  I stand there watching in some disbelief.  He repeats the pattern for himself. While I'm waiting for his to cook, I turn to the refrigerator to read the article posted with magnets.  Steven walks up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist and snuggles his nose into my neck. "Mmmmm...you smell good." The microwave dings and he turns away to pull his plate out.  Each plate goes on a tray with fork, a glass of water for me and homemade apple juice for him.  We walk back to the living room and place the trays on the coffee table.  He puts in the movie, turns on the projector, hits the lights and we sit to eat. I'm not going to lie, I was a little skeptical, I mean, are you serious?  I dated a guy once who said he'd cook for me, but didn't have a clue.  It took two months before I realized he was getting take out from a variety of restaurants.

Trying to be nice. "Not bad.  The Swiss cheese gives it a different flavor."  "See! I knew you'd love it."  "Well, love is a bit much.  Let's see if I throw it up or not.  Thanks.  He grabs my head and presses our faces together. He laughs.  When Steven laughs he leans his head back, opens his mouth and the sound rises from his Buddha belly.  A little like Santa but not has full or long.

We finish dinner and I head to the bathroom.  Once in the bathroom my breath is slightly taken away.  he rehabbed this?  It's beautiful.  I look at the toilet and go to grab some TP, cuz I always do that prior to squatting, cuz you never know, and on top of the toilet is a curling iron.  Hmmmm... I finish my business and go to wash my hands.  Right there on the shelf is a wooden leaf and in it lay a cool turquoise ring. I try it on and it fits.  A female's ring.  Hmmmm....is his roommate a woman?  Hmmm....why didn't he say something?  Whatever.

I return to the couch, kick off my shoes and grab the blanket to warm my bare feet - his apartment is chill-ill-lee.  He asks if I want to lay down, I say yes, and he whisks away the pillows from the couch selecting two to position behind our heads.  He maneuvers himself behind me to be on the inside and pulls me, hugging the blanket ,back to lay in the nook of his arm.  Of course, he now takes this moment to put his hand on my stomach - please don't feel the bulge.  He reaches up to my face, grabs my chin and pulls my face to his for a serious make out session.  I can tell he's, cough, enjoying it because he moans and the tongue is set free.  I just don't know what to do with that thing!  The majority of the kissing is good but this animal must. be. tamed!  "Mmmm...you're a good kisser.  I just realized that."  Yes, cuz I don't have a wild animal in my mouth.  We stop to take a breath and all of a sudden he's got heartburn and gas (burping not the farting kind like me).  We go back to watching the movie and when it seems to have resolved itself he comes in for more.  It continues this way for awhile.

Half way through the movie he apparently decides he wants more and we just start making out.  Some light petting and he's on top of me.  "We should move to the bedroom." Dingalingaling.  Warning Epiphany.  Warning!  "Actually, would you be upset if I..." "No!" I smile. "Good, it's just that I'm enjoying the pace that we're at."  "Totally."  We continue to make out and he sits up, pulls me on top of him so that I'm actually sitting on his lap.  All of a sudden there's a key in the dead bolt and we both jump.  His legs move out from under me to a seated position on the couch.  My legs are still behind his back and I'm covered with the blanket.  His arm rests on the back of the couch.  It's his roommate.

She (yes I said SHE) is a cute blonde in her 40's.  He makes introductions and I'm kind of confused why he didn't correct me earlier and say that the he was actually a she.  Did he think I would be jealous or something?  To me this is not a big deal, I had a male roommate at one point but he was always with his girlfriend and almost never home.  I still remember when we had a huge spider (E does NOT do spiders) on the vaulted ceiling of our apartment.  Both of us were standing on the couch screaming like girls.  Here I thought I would have a man around the house and I ended up with an eight year-old girl.  Finally we called some real men  to come dispose of the nuisance. I still laugh about that moment. 

The roommate walks back into her room and closes the door.  I look at Steven and laugh.  I can't stop.  "What?"  Trying to catch my breath, "Oh. My. Gosh.  I suddenly felt like I was 17 again!"  We both laugh and laugh.  With her settled in we continued watching the movie.  When it was over, Steven grabbed my feet under the blanket and I laid back on the couch.  He is a terrific masseuse!  Whoops!  I just let a little toot or two come out.  Damn gassy ass!  Well now he knows I fart. I try to cover it by asking questions and we talk.  We talk about scary dreams, my Nuclear bomb, and his repetitive dream from childhood that came every night.  He described how after some time he was actually able to start controlling the dream and change it.  To me it sounded like a video game and I wondered if he was joking, but he wasn't.  It apparently went on every night for years. We talked more about his family, his Mom moving, and the rest of it.  Steven is quite shy when he opens up and talks about himself.  There's a clear discomfort there but it was so nice to learn more about him.

Soon there after we were laying together again, this time E was crammed into the nook between the cushion and the back of the couch.  Very cozy and warm!  His heartburn was still acting up (and thank goodness because I think he wouldn't have stopped kissing and touching me!  It was the perfectly timed, required time out.)  However, at one point, after massaging my head (LOVE!), he began running his fingers down my neck.  My eyes were closed and I heard the direction of his breathing change to look at me.  The way I was laying compressed the little girls (with the help of a padded bra) into real cleave!  His fingers ran lower and lower down the open v-neck of my tee and I thought I was going to lose it!  I can feel my will power crumbling under his touch.  I think screw it (pun intended) and suddenly I regain sanity.  This is not how I want it to be.  It's great that we have such hot sexual chemistry, but I don't want this to be all there is. Plus, E, you're a little desperate for sex, admit it!  Finally, I stopped him and we gathered ourselves, breath included, so he could take me home.  He cupped my face with one hand and said "Such a beautiful girl. I like you...a lot."  "You're growing on me," I reply with a laugh.  Then again, is he confusing desire with like?  It's a guy thing.  Men fall in love with their penis, women with their mind (thanks again for that information, Patty Stinger!).

Finally we peel ourselves apart. He sits on the couch and reaches for my hand to pull me out of the abyss.  I stand to get my shoes and he grabs my hips, pulls me towards him and rests his head on my stomach.  He then raises my shirt to kiss my stomach.  Nnnnoooo not the bbbulllgeee!  I stop him and pull him up.  He turns on the light so I can find my shoes.  We put the couch back together and get ready to leave. 

He grabs my hand as we walk to the car, opens the door for me to get in, I reach down to hit the door lock (so "Singles") and he gets in.  Within a few minutes we're outside my house and he asks in haste and excitement, as if he's suddenly remembered he hasn't asked me to get together again, "Hey, when am I going to see you again?"  Think strategically, E.  "I think Tuesday or Thursday.  Let me check when I get in and I'll text you."  "Ok".

Why, you ask, do I need to be strategic about this?  Well, for one good reason it's getting a bit heated and I need to tame that by not creating opportunities for it to happen too soon.  This means, NOT getting together with him Thursday-Saturday nights because he has three days off, which could mean late night dates and trouble.  I am not in a rush.  In the past, I would have ripped off his and my clothes and had sex too quickly.  Those relationships never had any depth.  We never just talked and got to know one another.  I want this to be different.  I want to find someone who is willing to wait, to have fun getting to know one another. So, Tuesday.  Tuesday is good.  We both have to work the next day, he at 5:30a. 

In the meantime, none of the other guys have contacted me except for The Wet Rag who texted the other night.  Unfortunately, a response must be given.  My standard one is "Just want to let you know that I've met some people and moving forward to see how things go there.  Take care."  Gentle but not devastating like "I'm sorry you're about as exciting as a wet rag.  I'm not interested."  There is Don who is a hottie and I think I'm going to text and ask when we're getting together.  I'm just going for it.

xoxo

Steven: Date Deux

At 3:30 Thursday I still had not received a call from Steven about our date, so I called him.

S:" Hi, gorgeous!"
E: "What are you doing?  Are you at work?"
S: "Nope, out shopping and running errands. You?"
E: "Ah, I'm working.  I hadn't heard from you and want to see if we're still on for tonight"
S: "We better be. I want to see you.  I was going to call you later but wasn't sure when you get off work."
E: "Cool, what's the plan?"
S: "I'll pick you up at 7:30 and we'll head to dinner."
E: "Groovy"

It was still 6:00p and I was rocking out to Michael Jackson and finishing up work until I realized I needed to get in the shower.  In a flash the shower is on and I'm ripping off clothing and letting them drop to the floor of my bathroom.  Now, I love my shower.  Last year Santa brought me a beautiful shower head that is so relaxing, I could actually let an hour slip by without notice.  That could have easily happened...but, it didn't.

Thursday was a pretty awesome day.  I established a new contract with a client, have interest from a new client (whom I actually met a year ago, but he wasn't ready for me yet) and...with a little extra cash in my pocket, and looking ahead, I decided to stop by one of my favorite consignment stores on the way home from my meeting at Starbucks.  

I adore this store, but you do have to be careful because there is a load of designer wear and you can easily spend a couple of hundred dollars.  This was not the case for me!  After trying on several pieces, I opted for a short, black cotton dress, sleeves that tie at the elbow and a low, scoop neck adorned with a roped piece of the same material for $42 and 20% off that, and a thick, woven belt in different shades of brown and a large silver buckle for $20 - it goes with EVERYTHING! Good investment.

Showered and shaved, and now somewhat sweaty from the steam, I turn up the Michael (thanks to the neighbors being at work) and dance around the living room.  I just lllooovvveeee Michael!  Pour a glass of wine, blow dry hair and walk into my bedroom where my outfit is perfectly laid out.  First, tights (NOTE: on dry winter days a hint of hairspray on tights helps prevent static cling), dress and back in the bathroom to put on make up and straighten hair.  It's now almost 7:00 and he'll arrive at 7:30.  Quick look in the mirror and I'm actually having a fantastic hair and make up day.  Yea!

I grab the same snake print clutch as before, put on some red socks and grab my camel boots, turn towards the living room to put on boots when like a banana peel under my foot my right foot slips and I come crashing down on my knee...on tile.  Ouch!  Now, this could be really bad.  Over 20 years ago I blew out m ACL and lately it seems the years of dancing are starting to take a toll.  I kind of freak out about it.  I sat on the floor.  DAMN IT!  Bend my knee.  No pain.  Shwew!  I get up and walk to the couch and have no pain.  Good, but I know it's going to be bruised and swollen for more than a few days.  I put on my boots.  Text:

S: "I'm down stairs"
E: thinking he better be at my front door "Can you hear Michael?"
S: "There's something wrong with you"
E: "You have no idea.  Be down in two shakes"

Trying to not do more damage by turning my knee, I whiz around grabbing everything I need.  Since Steven offered to pick me up I opted not to wear the thick (highly un-sexy) Thinsulate coat and go for something lighter and more stylish.  Walking down the stairs...he better be at my door.  I open the door and there is Steven in a black wool pea coat and knit cap leaning against the wood railing and resting one leg on the top step.  He slowly raises his head.

E: "You should have knocked"
S: "With Michael rockin' I didn't think you'd hear me"
E: "I'm pretty sure I would have"
S: "Mmmmm...You look beautiful" He steps on to the main level and puts his hands on my hips pulling me in for a hug.  He sneaks a kiss, and then another before hugging me in an embrace that was warm, strong, long and felt safe.  "I'm hungry, let's get outta here"
E: "Sounds good.  I didn't have lunch"
S: "Girl!"

He grabs my hand and helps me walk down the steps, which even covered in slush can be a death trap for a woman in high heels, and opens the car door for me.  On the front seat papers with a headline stating "Anit-Terrorism".

E: "Is this work stuff?  Top secret.  Maybe I should read it to learn more about you."
S: "LOL go ahead!"  I simply put it in the back seat without looking at anything further. 

His car is incredibly cleaner than it was the first night. Gone is the litter of food wrappers, drinks, random scraps of paper and other odds and ends.  I was impressed.  Immediately in the car, the smart ass comments start flying.  We're just volleying back and forth to one another.  "Oh my gosh!" I wipe his lips, "You have my lip gloss all over your lips."  "Mmmm....I like that come here and give me some more!"  "It is a great color for you."

We drive down the main street in my neighborhood heading south to what I can only assume is his hood.  He reaches for my black suede gloved hand.  "If you're cold I'll keep your hand warm."  I remove the glove and return it to it's position in his and we remained that way until approaching valet at the restaurant within a few minutes.  One of the things I love about Chicago is that in a few minutes you can be in an entirely different neighborhood.  We get out of the car, he walks around to grab my hand and escort me to the door.  Via Carducci.  This is the second, smaller location of one of my favorite Italian restaurants in Chicago. Comfort food.  Yum! He opens the door and we're immediately seated near the bar in the middle of the room.

We take off our coats and I seen that Steven has improved his fashion for this date. He wore dark jeans and a cream cable knit Nautica sweater.  I didn't have a chance to check out the shoes, but I was impressed with the top half. We sit and the flirting continues.

E: "STOP IT! I need to decide what I'm getting."
S: "You're so going to fall in love with me."
E: "Hmmm...I don't know about that.  You have a lot of work ahead of you to make that happen."
S: "I'm up for that challenge..."

A bottle of wine, Grilled Calamari appetizer, Eggplant Parmesan and Rigatoni Italiano (shared on a bread plate in the middle of the table) and I am stuffed to the gills.  Over dinner we talked and I asked again about his job.  The same answers....

E: "So, no not that it matters, but are you going to be straight with me about what you do?"
S: smile "I'm a police officer of aviation."
E: "What does that mean? Do you work for Chicago Police Department?"
S: "Nope, I do anti-terrorism, bomb threats, plane crashes and simply keep the airport safe."
E: "So what do you do at work.  Like what did you do today?"
S: "Nothing."
E: "Nothing?"
S: "Yeah, nothing.  Just stood around and watched people."
E: "Well, people watching is always good entertainment."

And that was the end of that.  He asked me about my work and we just...talked...It's so easy.   I learn that he is actually Spanish and Italian and his family came to the U.S. from Puerto Rico. He digs in his pocket and pulls out a business card with his full name and contact information (which comes in handy for cyber stalking the next day).  His last name is like a song.  It's Italian and so beautiful as it rolls off the tongue. 

The waiter removed the plates and Steven reaches his hands across the table, open like a flower asking for mine.  I answered with a smile and placing my hands in his.  He looked down at them, massaging and rubbing them silent.  He gives a half glance up at me and our eyes meet.  He smiles and looks back down. (There's an equally decent chance that he was enjoying the view of cleavage since my elbows were resting on the table, pushing my shoulders up, elbows in and the little girls out!)

S: "I want to take you to Peru.  Mayan ruins.  It's so incredibly beautiful and you would enjoy it."
E: "I would love to."
S: "What's your favorite spot?"
E: "Dying to go to Paris and left a piece of my heart in Italy.  However, I love going to my parent's place in Wyoming.  There is so much I love to do there but I can't do by myself.  My parents aren't capable any more and I've longed to share it with someone."
S: grabs my hands tighter "Sounds like something I'd love to do."

At this point, I don't have any idea what this guy is doing to me, but I'm absolutely starting to swoon.  Our eyes linger longer, my smiles become flirty and shy as I turn my head away.  Finally he pays the bill and valet appears to offer the car. Steven helps me on with my coat takes my hand, opens the door and then the car door and we're off again.  This time in the direction of my house.

E: "Where are we going?"
S: "You're house."
E: "Uhm....what?"
S: "I'm being spontaneous.  Thought we could watch a movie."
E: "Uhm, my house is not ready for public consumption.  You might have warned me."
S: "Well, we can just go to mine, then."
E: "No, this is fine but let's stop and get some wine."
S: "Okay."

We pull up and I continue harassing him for inviting himself over.  Before I reach for the door handle, still holding my hand, pulls me to him for a kiss.  Then, we're up the stairs and into my modest apartment.  Don't get me wrong, it's cute and has loads of newer qualities but sometimes I'm ashamed that I don't live in a brand new beautiful condo with granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances.  I race in and quickly close the door to my bedroom which looks like a tornado lifted the entire contents of my closet and dropped it on my bed.  Plus, the wall is peeling and it's an ongoing issue with the shitty landlord to get it fixed.  I'm picking my battles right now but it is not something I want someone to see.

I take off my coat and hang it on the hook behind the door.  Steven leaves his on the dining table chair and looks around.  I grab his hand to give a quick tour and he kisses me, there, in the dark of my small office.  I go to turn on the television and he wonders back into the kitchen to look at the pictures on my refrigerator - there are a load.  With little wall space the refrigerator has become a wall of photos including the BFF, the family, friends from my hometown and lots of babies.  He asks and I tell him who everyone is.

Finally he comes into the living room and we snuggle under the down comforter, legs out before us on the ottoman.  We settle for the season finale of "Desperate Housewives of Beverly Hills" and I tell him who's crazy, who's not, and a synopsis of the drama.  He just laughs and grabs my hand under the comforter.

E: "You know....I think we skipped out on our tab the first night."
S: "Okay, I was wondering about that and felt really bad because I figured you ended up getting it."
E: "Nope, I still thought you had, somehow."
S: LOL "Oh my gosh!  I can't believe that happened.  I am so sorry!"
E: "It's fine but I feel bad."
S: "Yeah, me too."  His hand softly brushes my cheek.  "Hmmmm....I like you."  I smile and he kisses me. "When can I see you again? Tomorrow? Saturday? Sunday? All three?"
E: LOL "I have plans Friday and Saturday but Sunday will work."
S: "I'll cook for you."
E: "Whoa!  I'm sure your toast or Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup is divine, but let me know so I can eat beforehand."
S: LOL "I'm not a completely lost cause.  I can make spaghetti."
E: "Out of a jar doesn't count."
S: "I add some ingredients. You'll like it."
E: "I better because I like it when a guy cooks for me."
S: "Ugh, I guess I need to enroll in a cooking class."
E: "Looks like it."
S: "I like you."  I smile and he left a few minutes later.

Today's cyber stalking produced some answers.  I now know that he works for the FAA, has barely used LinkedIn and MySpace accounts (seriously, dude? No one over 12 uses MySpace anymore!), a Twitter and a Facebook page. I also located his address and google mapped his house with satellite view!  Hey, you should know that he stalked me as well.  He texted this morning to confirm our date - dinner at his - for Sunday night and said "Nice website".  Mutual cyber stalking is allowed!

There is another guy I met online who I'd like to go out with before putting my eggs all in this basket.  He's really good looking and also well-traveled, but I already know that the odds of him being as sweet to me as Steven are not high.  Not even close.

xoxo

Dating News Flash I

After several conversations with friends, I am reaffirmed about the oddity of Steven's desire to play 20 questions with me rather than just be straight about what he does.  And, it's not really about what he does for a living, it's about honesty.  As the BFF said "I don't care what your job is for a living.  You can bag groceries, but own it and be proud of it."  Aaaaaa-greed!

Nonetheless, I am giving him the benefit of the doubt (including assuming the fact that he paid our bill, although I just feel strongly it didn't happen) and have set a date for dinner on Thursday night.

In the meantime, I've talked to two other guys I met online.  John...the conversation was painful.  He was about as exciting as a wet rag.  I think I spoke a total of three minutes on a half hour call.  I finally told him my Mom was calling on the other line and had to go (I'm sure my Mom won't mind that I used her as an excuse!)

Rich...we've been emailing online for some time.  He is actually one of the first guys I met on the site.  Seemed a little cocky...yeah, he's one of those guys who put up a photo with no shirt on. Typically I would just scoff at him and move on to the next, but in the interest of trying not to judge people without knowing them, I read his profile and his justification made sense -

"You may laugh at me because I put up a picture without a shirt, but I'm doing this to prove that I am who I say I am."

Okay, fine, cuz I can tell you how many people I've met in person and thought "that picture on your profile is about 15 years old.  You said you were 35 not 55, weren't balding and 80 pounds overweight."  Again - be who you are.  Own who you are or change it.  Plus, he's attractive and the rest of his profile seemed honest and sincere.  After the conversation with John, which about put me to sleep, I called Rich and we had a great convo for over an hour.  If he appears cocky on his profile, I definitely didn't get that vibe speaking to him.  He just sounded like a good dude.  I eventually admitted it was my bed time (I don't like games, but you have to play a little.  In this case, I always try to get off the phone first), and hoped we could catch up again by phone or in person.  "In person would be great."  "Awesome, I'm available this week, so why don't you figure something out and let me know." (Again, I always make them plan the date - hey, they can do some work to impress me!)

Yesterday I returned the call from the local dating agency and told Annie* that the timing was perfect and I am available.  "Great. We'll determine if you're a match for this person and then get back to you.  In the meantime, you might want to come back in for a face-to-face since it's been a couple of years."  "Of course! let me know when."

I have to admit something: I often feel bad dating someone I know is interested in me and then dating other people.  It's like I'm cheating or doing something behind their backs, when I know that this simply isn't true until sex and mutual monogamy is confirmed.  It's weird, I KNOW, and I have no answer as to why I feel this way other than the fact that I have been cheated on quite a bit in past relationships.  It's the reason that I probably do two things:
1. Ensures that I won't cheat.  Ironically, I have NEVER cheated, but no one needs to feel the hurt I have. I think it's less about cheating and more about hurting someone.
2. More than likely is the main culprit in my meeting men, having a great time and then rushing to see what else is out there before settling down with that person.  I want to make sure that I won't be more attracted to someone else, which is complete bullshit because I am the one who once wrote a column on men looking over my shoulder for greener grass and yet here I am.

In reality, I probably do this because:
A. If it's not going to work out I'd rather cut if off at the pass than let it go further and hurt someone more.  I will not lie...I have hurt someone in my past.  I was careless and disrespectful to him.  Why? Because, if you believe it or not, I actually believed that men did not have feelings.  Yep.  Thanks, Dad.  A mutual friend called and said that the bf was really hurt and crying nonstop.  I never knew what to do about that so I let him go because I figured "why would he take me back?"  I still feel guilt over this, the first realization that men aren't so different.
B. Protection mechanism! Scared to take the leap.  My mind suddenly races to marriage and my fear of making the wrong choice, much like I fear my Mother might have done because she was expected to get married.  After her engagement to someone she was crazy about was broken, by the guy, she picked the first handsome, eccentric, non-affectionate but hard-working man who fell for her.  He was from a lower class and my grandparents never really approved of him.  But hey, if she hadn't gone for him then I wouldn't be here, and we all know you couldn't live without me!  HA!

As I told the BFF yesterday, I am really proud of my recent realizations (epiphanies) towards relationships and dating, but there is clearly more work to be done and I'm hoping that getting out and dating will help me conquer in "real time", so to speak.  It's good to be aware of where you are and know what hills you need to get over.  There's no point in not being aware and then dragging others through your black suitcase full of bullshit!

xoxo

The Date Report: Steven

I know I promised a full report on Saturday but I ended up taking a day for moi, including sweat pants, my down comforter, Dog Whisperer, some DVR and Cold Mountain.  It was awesome!

So, without further adieu....

At 3:45p I looked into my closet with frustration and some horror.  I can't wear jeans, because their all a wee bit too tight on me so it's tights or leggings.  In this weather....leggings.  I call my gf Megan* who says "no" to the leggings and jeans would be good.  Jeans are not good.  "I can't get into any of them".  "That's all in your head."  "Oh, yeah, it's all in my head that my fat ass can't get into any of my jeans.  They don't fit, so how is that in my head?".  She sighs and says okay.  After about 20 minutes of disgust looking at my closet, I finally manage to select three outfits.

1. A maroon knee length, v-neck sweater dress that I would normally wear with tights and boots.  I tried it on and made a face in the mirror.  Too many bumps and bubbles.  So, I put on the tights.  Still too many.  Then I looked at the drawer in my dresser in fear of the one thing that lay inside.  Slowly opening the drawer it had somehow found its way to the top and it stared me straight in the face.  A girdle.  Yep, no fancy Spanx (which I think is a nice word for girdle) but a full fledged girdle.  Ughhh....I pulled it out gingerly praying that I wouldn't look better with it on and just give the whole thing up.  I slipped my feet in and PULLED and...pulled.  Sucked in some air and pulled some more.  It was on.  I slipped the dress on over it, looked in the mirror and I did look better but I also felt like any false move and the damn thing would explode, my bumps and bubbles along with it.  I did NOT feel sexy or beautiful.  I took a picture and sent it to Megan who said "gorgeous".  Ugh.  I don't feel that way.  So, it had to go.

2. A grey dress, that totally reminds me of something I owned in 1988.  It's tight on the butt and legs and then baggy on top where a silver pattern of circles or bubbles rests on the chest - believe it or not, this pattern actually helps those of who are mammary gland challenged.  The sleeves reach elbow length and a large boat neck allows me to wear it low on the chest as a v-neck or it falls off the shoulder.  Black leggings and black boots complete it.  I look in the mirror at what's become my "go to outfit" and think this might be a bit too much for a first date and a little bit too nightclub-ish.  I strip it off.

3. A long sleeve sweater/dress top with a low collared v-neck.  The thin acrylic material helps it hang and brings enough warmth that I won't be sweating indoors or freezing outside in the frozen tundra.  I pair it with jeggings (YES, I said JEGGINGS!  Shutup!  Their totally comfy) and camel knee-high stiletto boots.  I look in the mirror and see the first pleasing reflection of myself in months.  This is the one.  It's a little bit more casual than the others and very date worthy.  I also send this to Megan for approval and get it. 

I was moving slowly and it took another hour getting ready between sips of wine.  I wasn't nervous but I definitely was stressed.  Flat ironed hair to perfection, got frustrated with my eye makeup and ended up completely washing my face and doing it again.  Better, but I was missing my makeup Midas touch.

I feed Meow Mix and look at the clock - 5:10p.  Okay, I'm running late but I can hurry.  I reach under the white bed skirt and pull out the Tupperware container/box that holds my supply of clutches and other non-everyday bags.  I pull out this great snake print clutch that I got at H&M.  This bag rocks and I actually have a couple of the same style.  It's actually a multi-use bag.  The shape is square with handles at the top so you can fill it all the way and carry by handles, or throw in the essentials and fold it in half as a clutch.  Clever design, really.

I lay all the essentials out on the table and pack them one by one, most of them having their own specific place.  The rest jumbled together at the bottom, which will present an archaeological dig later to find my "lip jazz" (aka Burt's Bees tinted lip moisturizer).  Look at the clock.  Shit.  5:17. Shit.  I run into my bedroom grabbing jewelry (there is no time for decisions), quickly decide on the blue and silver circle necklace set Sister2 gave me for Christmas, and I was impressed by this gift!  A first ever.  The color sets off the blue jeggings and my eyes.  I like that my outfit is not matchy-matchy.  I've never been that kind of gal.  Fashion is, to me, an expression of art, creativity and who I am.  One more glance in the mirror.  Back to the bathroom to grab a comb for hair touch ups.  Suddenly I realize I have not put on socks or boots. Shit.  5:23. I quickly take off the jeggings, rub the bottom of my feet with deodorant, pour some baby powder in and pull a striped pair of wool knee high socks (seriously, this does help!), jeggings, zip up the boots.  Ready.  5:25.  Shit.   I wrap my purple Pashmina scarf around my neck, slip into my long Thinsulate coat - zip, snap, tie - grab my 1920's-inspired hat from Target (I get so many compliments on my hat!), gloves, keys, bag and fly down my stairs.  Opening the door, the arctic blast hits my face and the street lights are reflecting off the icy sidewalks.  Potential death, or shattered hip, await me.  Awesome.  Pull out phone. 5:32. Shit, shit!

Unlike my neighbors, I was smart enough to put down de-icer on my sidewalk that morning.  But that was the only danger-free zone.  I made my way to the grassy area and shuffled along on my toes - baby steps to safety.  Finally I make it past the end houses to the crosswalk and scurry across to the school sidewalk - always clear.  I get to my usual corner to grab a cab and...nothing.  Shit. I should have known.  In weather like this, there is never a cab.  Several drive by with their lights off filled with passengers enjoying the warm heat inside as I stand here in boots that have about as much warmth as a freezer.  Awesome.  I pull out my phone for the time.  Shit. 5:40.  And as I put it away the bus pulls up.  Done.

Jumping on to the bus I whip out my CTA (Chicago Transit Authority) card.  "Invalid". What the?  Okay, I pull out $3 and put it in to pay my $2.25 fare - I can't believe I don't have change - "No need for the other dollar," says bus driver.  "Thank you!" I text Steven to report on my delay.  "No cabs."  "Do you want me to come pick you up?"  "Sweet of you to offer but I'm now on CTA."  "Okay - seats by fireplace are taken. May have to work another angle to secure." "My money is on your resourcefulness." "Mission accomplished!"  "Attaboy!" 5:42.

Just 10 minutes later I get dropped at an intersection and prepare to transfer buses.  CTA has this ingenious mobile website where you can get times for buses - CTA Bustracker.  It's brills!  I quickly check the time for the next bus.  What the?  15 minutes?  Seriously?  Knowing that they can often come faster, I begin to walk down the street to the next stop.  I was certainly not going to stand their and freeze my ass off for 15 minutes.  At least walking would get the heart pumping and some warmth brewing. Knowing my CTA card was not working, I tried the trick again and claimed that I didn't have change.  "That's okay," said the busdriver.  "Thanks!"

Finally on bus.  Send text: "Just made transfer will be another 10. I'm sorry."  "No worries."  Ten minutes later, I leap off the bus, refasten the buttons on my coat and haul ass down the block to the venue.  I walk in, look around and see a handful of people sitting at the bar and a few small groups at tall boy tables sharing Happy Hour.  The place is virtually empty.  You'd never know that it is one of the hottest places come summer, jammed with people dressed to the nines and a long line waiting to go up the stairs and on to the beautiful patio on the rooftop. Finally I tell the host that I'm meeting someone by the fire. The host looks as confused as I and finally says, it looks like there is someone sitting in the nook by the fire.  I look and there are a pair legs perched on the table, but that's all I see of him.  I peak my head in and sure enough.  There he is sitting on the banquet leading up to a glass wall.  Inside a thin line of fire burns.  It's not as cozy warm as one might think but it's better than nothing.

"There you are!  Hi!" A big smile came across his face. "Hi, yourself."  We chuckle and he reaches in for a huge bear hug.  Ah!  I love big, tight hugs.  Brother-in-law1 calls it Hug Therapy, and he's right.  I love 'em.  I start to pull away and he grabs tighter.  Awesome!  "You're cold.  I'll warm you up."  Mmmm.

We finally break apart and I take off my coat but leave my hat and scarf on until I can warm up and the witty banter begins.  Wow!  Hilarious!  I love exchanging jabs and witty conversation.  It's one of my favorite things and it was....so much fun!

Steven is about 5"10' and a biggish guy with a Buddha (hey, a little Buddha is good as long as Buddha doesn't get any bigger), large legs and muscular!  His head is shaved and he's donning some killer glasses.  For a moment I was a little confused on his pressing me to dress "sexy" when he had on Brown Timberland lace up ankle boots accompanied by dark blue jeans so worn that the only sign they were once dark is the fine line around the seams, and a bluish-grey sweater.  The guys I typically date would be in nice dark jeans, a long sleeved button down and black ankle boots.  He was dressed super casual and I was happy I chose the right outfit.  Just chic enough but no overdressed.

The waiter came up and asked if I'd like something to drink and I ordered my usual Grey Goose Gimlet up, "Oh, she's going to be trouble!"  I laugh and gingerly slap his knee to say stop.  It felt less like a first date and more like two old friends getting together after a long time. Dare I say, it was very comfortable.  Steven has a shy confidence about him.  Quick with wit but not super gregarious in nature.  It wasn't long before we were just laughing and cracking each other up.  Within 15 minutes he leans close to me and says "I really want to kiss you."  Okay, that was fast! "But I want to wait.  I just don't know how long I can wait."

Within an hour I reached the point in conversation where I wanted to dig in deeper so I asked him what he does.  "I'm a police officer of aviation."  "What does that mean? Do you work at the airport, downtown, what?" "Yes, I work at the airport and help with anti-terrorism, bomb threats, etc."  "So you're protecting us?"  "Yeah, that's a nice way of saying it."  "You carry a weapon and all?"  "Yeah, sort of." WTF, man?  Give me some straight answers!  I never did get one which kind of pissed me off.  I'm thinking he's TSA but can't for the life of me figure out what he's telling me and why he's not just telling me.  Is he ashamed?  Is he undercover?  Whatever. I try again.  "Okay, so are you a Marshall?" "I don't travel."  "Okay, so do you work regular police shifts?"  "Yeah, a few days on a few off and rotation.  I work tomorrow at 5:30."  "In the evening?" "No, morning." "Oh my gosh. We should call it a night soon so you can get to bed."  "Eh, I don't require much sleep." (I hate to pull this book into it but "He's Just Not That Into You" says that if a guys is into you he will go without sleep, find a way to make it through the day and always make time to call you...If I was blind to it before than now I'm thinking he's interested).

After awhile the touchy-feely flirtation increased, the "you're so beautiful" became a regular quote (which a gal never grows tired of hearing), the witty banter continued along with some serious stuff, he began to move in closer and for the first time I allowed myself to linger longer during glances, to study him and allow myself to open to him and see what's there.  I told him about where I'm from in Kansas.  He grabs my hand and intertwines his fingers with mine, "So you're a country girl."  "I grew up in the city of 350,000 people. That's not country!"  "That's country to this city boy."  Hmph.  "Well, country girls are a lot more friendly and confident than city girls."  "I'm beginning to see that."

He asked me why I was single and suggested that I'm a heart breaker.  Hmmmm...maybe a little bit.  I hadn't thought of it  that way.  "I just have some things to deal with.  Relationships with men in my life that I needed to reconcile in order to move forward."  "Hmmm...interesting."  I did open up to him about my dad but didn't go closer to mentioning my abuser/stalker.  He shared that he was super shy growing up and took  a trip to South America where the women are really aggressive and it gave him confidence, and probably made him a bit of a player for awhile.  "But now that I'm almost 40 I'm ready to settle down and look for something real."  "That makes sense.  When is your birthday?" He leans into my ear and whispers "Tomorrow."  "Well, happy early birthday." He leans in again, "Thanks for sharing it with me."

It was almost 10:00 and I insist that we start our departure.  He leans in and whispers "Not without a kiss."  I looked into his eyes and smiled, "Okay."  Wow. Nice, gentle and lots of chemistry.  "Okay, I think we should get our bill and go."  "I want to stay here and kiss more."  "I don't really do full on PDA."  "Okay, then we can finish this in the car. I'll take you home."  "Well, that would be very nice of you." Then we sat and talked a bit longer waiting for the waitress to come by.  She didn't.  I finally said "I have to go to the bathroom.  Let's go."  When I came back he was still sitting there.  I grabbed my coat and he immediately got up to hold it for me to slip on.  What a gent!  Then he grabbed his and said "I'm going to valet for the car."  I stood inside and got this sinking feeling something wasn't right.  He came in to get me, but didn't open the car door.  Instead I stood in front of the car waiting for traffic to clear for one second so I could run to the door and open it before I was bombarded with more oncoming traffic.  I slid into the car, the heater on, and we drove off.

Once at my door, he pulled the car over and, for the first time, I didn't grab the door handle and jump out.  I sat, waited and then he reached towards me, hand on my face and kissed me.  We were now in full blown make out.  The initial kiss was so nice and this one started out the same and then all of a sudden I had a wild animal in my mouth.  This boy did not know how to kiss after all!  My heart sank and I thought "Well, maybe I can teach him as I have others."  But who wants to teach?  I'm willing to help his wardrobe, buy a new, nice, full length coat and trash that entirely too ugly Russian fur (real fur) hat with the ear flaps that just perches on top of his head.  Shutter.  But the kissing.  :( Bummer.  Major bummer.  I finally rescued my mouth from the assault and said "Thanks for tonight. I had fun." "Me too.  I'll see you on Monday."  "Monday?"  "Yeah, that's the next time I can see you."  "Oh, I have a board meeting that night."  "Tuesday?"  "I have a networking group I host that night.  Why don't you call me when you're free and we'll schedule?"  "You are interested in going out again, aren't you?"  "Yes" I say with a sigh and smile.  "Awesome!"

I got out of the car only to see an old neighbor and stopped to give her a hug.  He waited and I told her that my date was waiting for me to go inside and I did.  As I was washing my face, I replayed the night in my head and was very proud of myself.  Proud that I allowed myself to be open and be part of something.  Proud that by doing so I am one step closer to finding my partner.  Proud to let someone be sweet and affectionate to me. Proud that I didn't just grab the door handle, lean over to kiss him on the cheek, leap out, say a quick thanks and I'll talk to you soon and within seconds be in the safety of my home.  Over the years, my wall caused me to shut down; to not get close, not open up, not take the chance.  Often times I would immediately say "this won't go anywhere" or "I'll probably break up with him" so I never bothered to let anyone get close enough to see me. I even did that when I came home.  Immediately I thought "I'm going to hurt him.  Step away now."  When the reality is that is the old Epiphany.  That's the old me and my old modus operandi.  Now that I've done it the last few times I known why I haven't been able to be in a relationship.  I don't let anyone get close.  No matter what happens, it felt really, really good.

Finally snuggled into my flannel sheets and down comforter, doing Sudoku to rest my mind, it donned on me what was off about the end of the night.  I have this sinking feeling that we skipped out on our bill.  Four cocktails and tip.  Probably $50!  Unbelievable.  My phone buzzes.  Text from Steven: "I had a wonderful time with you this evening."  "As I.... :)" And with that I went to bed.  The next morning I texted a Happy Birthday wish and he said "Thanks, country bumpkin."

And with that...we shall see.  There are a couple of other guys I'm talking to and a dating service here in Chicago called to see if I'm still available.  No sex until monogamy and until then I'm dating around, and that includes another date with Steven.

xoxo