Good Girls and Bad Boys

Why are good girls attracted to bad boys?? A number of possible answers come to mind. 

Maybe it is a poor self image thing. Maybe some good girls think that they are not worthy of a good man?

Maybe inside every good girl there is a bad girl itching to get out? 

Maybe good girls like a challenge. They think that if they can get a bad boy to act like a good boy then they must really be something special. 

I really don’t know the answer to this, but somehow I am beginning to think I am one (if not all) of these girls above. 

Link

I know that there are good guys out there. I’ve even been lucky enough to date a couple, but for some reason I always toss them back. Why? Why are the nice guys just not capable of holding my attention? Note to Self: Consider seeking extended therapy on this subject.  

I can honestly say that every guy I’ve been with has a good heart. However, somehow all the ones I’ve gotten serious with are horrible, terrible, absolutely lousy partners. 

Link

I have tried really, really hard to give Untouchable all the breaks a girl possibly can, because I understood that he was going through a rough time with his divorce. I’ve even neglected to mention some of his more serious character flaws in hopes that they were just a result of his bad situation. Unfortunately this is sure evidence that I am hopeless, horribly, and absolutely terribly naïve. 

The first time I backed off from my relationship with Untouchable, he was dropping the ball big time. When I blogged about it, I said I could just tell he “needed to focus on other things.” (That was code for the boy was dropping the ball big time. Now you know Lil Dreamer Code. I wouldn‘t add it to your resume or anything, but it is a great skill to possess.)

We had plans for seven one night and he strolled in around 8:30, no phone call. Alright, I’m not a Nazi or anything. Maybe he had a really good excuse, right? 

So I asked him why he was late. You know what he said?? “My dog really needed some attention.” I kid you not. Sparrow was there at the time and I thought she was going to bitch slap him into next Tuesday.  

Link

I mean, I show up in this guy’s kitchen wearing nothing but a trench coat and give him a lap dance when he’s feeling sad and he puts me second to his dog??? And he forgets Valentine’s Day all in the same week? Not cool. Not even close to cool. Not even in the same galaxy as cool. 

So I backed off. I can take a hint. However when I backed off, that’s when he started upping his game. He professed his undying love for me and told me there was no getting over me. He washed three day old crusted puke from my hair for Jiminy’s Sake! He even made a proposal of holy matrimony at one point. Note to Self: Guys are likely to do anything to maintain access to Harry Potter Pussy. (Reference credit for that spectacular naughty bits term goes out to Pickelope.)

Then as soon as I’m securely back in his arms, he’s back to treating me like dog food. Incidentally, this is exactly what Minute Man used to do. He didn’t care if I told him I was upset about something. I could shout, cry, stamp my feet, spin on my head, it didn’t matter. He would just look at me with about as much interest as if he were looking at a late night infomercial.  

Yes! This is exactly the look. I would recognize it anywhere!

 

Link

However as soon as I threw in the towel, it was all sunshine and rainbows from Mr. Charming.

A couple weeks ago Untouchable told me that he had Saturday off and that we should “do something fun.” Some of my friends had called and wanted to do something fun too, but I told them I had plans - because I thought I did. 

When Saturday rolled around, I called Untouchable and asked him if he wanted to go out for breakfast with me and his mom.  He hemmed and hawed and told me he was really busy. So I gently reminded him that he had told me that he wanted to do something fun and then he agreed to meet me for breakfast. He even said we could go to an estate sale afterwards. Great! That sounded like fun!

You know what wasn’t fun? Eating breakfast alone with his mother without so much as a phone call from him. That wasn’t fun for me.

Link

After not hearing anything from him for a few hours, I called him but got no answer. I sent him a text message. “I wish you had told me that you weren’t coming to breakfast. It is really important for me to feel like I can count on you, and today I wasn’t feeling that.” I thought that was a super mild way of saying: You dropped the ball again freakish dog lover. 

I heard no reply from him – for two weeks. Two weeks!!! No reply.

Then finally he apologized. He said he didn’t call because he thought I was mad at him. Yeah, like that was going to make it better. I once again felt sorry for him because he is so painfully clueless. Seriously, if you are this stupid I will genuinely feel sorry for you. I decided I would attempt to teach him the components of a functioning relationship. Yeah! Because that sounds like fun!

Naturally, I went out and bought some knee high socks, a very short plaid skirt, and a too tight white blouse, to demonstrate to him good schoolmanship. (Pretty sure that’s not a word, but I really think it ought to be.) 

He showed up at my work in his hot little red sports car to take me for a ride. However, if he bothered to know my work schedule he would have known I was at home waiting to take him for a ride. Eventually, he showed up at my place in this: 

What? So I got a thing for young guys that drive old cars, so what? That's hot.

Sporting a perky set of pigtails, I bent over to show him even I could be a bad student and forget things sometimes (like my underwear). 

This is my attempt at hot, but I'm pretty sure the camera in the mirror self-shot negates anything cool I might have had going for me in this particular photo - but the outfit was too good to leave this out.

Forty-five minutes later I was pulling clothing out of the drapes wearing nothing but my converse all stars and the knee-high sport socks. Seriously, I’m not kidding you when I tell you I made that boy feel like he hit the Girlfriend Lottery. 

Man, when things are good, things are good between us!! 

But then next Saturday rolled around. Once again we had plans for to go to the movies, and once again, I found myself sitting home on a Saturday night with my cat. 

Link

He didn’t answer any of my texts or calls from Saturday night until the following morning when I received this little gem in my text messages: “I fell asleep. Please don’t shoot me.”

Seriously? He could only hope that’s all I was going to do.
It occurred to me that this is exactly what Untouchable did to me when I was in my twenties and I sure as hell wasn’t going to go through it again in my thirties. No one puts baby in the corner! 

Link

Since day one, I have shown this boy nothing but patience, love and compassion - and he’s only capable of showing me the same when he thinks he’s going to lose me.

Oh how that same old song and dance I used to get from Minute Man just makes me want to throw my hands up in the air and run screaming!!! And so help my God, that’s exactly what I’ve done.

Step by Step Women's Manual for Lawn Mowing

Mowing Your Lawn: A Step by Step Instruction for Successful Homeowner Chicks Everywhere - well everywhere that grass grows.
1. Locate lawn mower. It will have four wheels and a cord. (Not to be mistaken with generator)

2. Pull it out into the yard. Try not to swear when you run over your own foot trying to get it through the basement door. There are young children at play in the neighborhood.

3. Stop and say a prayer that the mower will start after sitting in a dark damp basement for the last six months. Select a mantra and start chanting. This will help.

4. Hit the pump button thingy five times. Do not, I repeat, do not punch the pump button thingy more than five times no matter how tempting it may be. Five. That's you're limit. (Like drinks on a Friday night.)

5. Make sure the little silver magic lever is somewhere between the turtle and the rabbit. Don't ask me where. I really don't know. Just keep moving it back and forth until you find its Happy Place.

6. Hold onto the handle bars. (This part is important.) Hold on!

7. Now pull the cord!! Pull it! Pull it!! Maybe you're not pulling hard enough. Pull it again.

8. Check gas level. Frown at the dried up puddle inside the tank. Add more gas.

9. Shake the lawn mower. It's like a martini. It needs to be shaken.

10. Now pull the cord! Pull it! Pull it! Pull it! You can look at the pump button thingy all you want, but don't even think about pushing it.

11. Go get a glass of sangria.

12. Check oil levels. Crinkle nose at oil on the tip of the dip. Add oil.

13. Now pull the cord! Pull it! Pull it! Maybe you're not pulling hard enough. Pull it again. Mutter swears lightly under your breath. There are children at play in the neighborhood.

14. Move the silver lever thingy to rabbit. Yeah that might help.

15. Now pull the cord! Pull it! Pull it!

16. Throw your hands in the air. Ask the universe why it hates you so and start to cry.

17. Pull yourself together. It's only a lawn mower.

18. Finish sangria.

19. Move the magic silver lever back to its Happy Place.

20. Repeat mantra. This will help

21. Now pull the cord! Pull it! Pull it!

22. Whoop for joy and fist pump the air when the motor roars to life. You are Woman!!! Hear you err...

23. Swear loudly when you realize you got so excited you let go of the handle bars and cut the engine. Screw neighborhood children. It’s not like they never heard the f-bomb before.

24. Try again. Do not forget step number 6 this time.

25. Now pull the cord! Pull it!!

26. Do a one arm fist pump this time. Supplement second arm fist pump with a happy butt dance wiggle. You've done it!

27. Push the black lever thing forward and put that thing in gear (Yes, it has a drive setting. Remember wistfully that your ex-husband watched you mow they entire lawn in neutral before informing you of this prize piece of information and laugh because you can now)

28. Proceed to lawn mowing mode and fuel yourself with the pride of home ownership!!!

Milestone Realizations

Today marks what would have been my third year anniversary with Minute Man. I'm not as sad about it as I was last year. However, I would be a liar if I said I wasn't at least a little sad to think about what today would have represented if two people had listened more to what the other was, or wasn't, saying. 

We were cute. Were we not?

The thing is, recently I find myself wanting this again - with somebody that appreciates what I have to bring to the table. 

But something doesn't feel right with the guy I have now. It's strange how he can bring me to a high I thought was untouchable one minute and crashing down to a low that I dreaded was coming the next. 

I don't regret revisiting our relationship because Untouchable is exactly what I needed. He fixed whatever I felt was broken inside of me. He showed me how to love again. 

However, I'm becoming increasingly aware of why it didn't work out the first time we were together. This, combined with the realization of what different spots we are both in, makes me feel like whatever we have isn't going to last. He is fresh out of divorce, and I can see he is still very much mourning that loss. I, on the other hand, am ready to step into another serious relationship. 

Regardless of what happens, I know we will always share a very special bond - and that's nothing to feel sad about. 

I'm not sure where the next May 1st will find me. However I'm quite certain, despite the way things look today, I will be very happy. 

Boy Child and the Tinker Toy

Frogs, and snails, and puppy dog tails, that’s what little boys are made of… 

Now that the situation is getting more serious between me and Touchable (you like what I did there?) I’ve decided to start making an attempt to get to know his kid. This terrifies me. (Mild understatement.) Let’s just review the reasons why this terrifies me, shall we? 

-    It’s a Boy Child. I’m inexperienced with boy children. I don’t know how to relate to boy children. I can’t even make truck noises right. Boy children scare me. 

-    It’s a boy child still in diapers. Holy Moly! I don’t even know how to change a diaper. That’s ok. Touchable can handle that. I hereby vow not to change any diapers – ever!! But what if there was an emergency and I had to change a diaper?? Oh god.

-    It’s a boy child with limited vocabulary skills. He can’t even tell me when I’m screwing up! Oh dear. Oh no, this could be bad, this could be very bad. 

Now let’s review the first (and most important reason for my terror) a little more in depth, shall we? 

Link

It may be true that I don’t know anything about boy children. However, I think I may show signs of promise. The other day I saw a tractor that was kinda cool, ok it was mighty awesome, alright. There, I admit it. Boy toys might have potential. 

Boy Child LOVES tractors! So when I saw this one that scooped up a boulder and CATAPULTED it into the air, I was all like OOoooooo!!!! I gotta have that. I mean, Boy Child needs to have that. So I bought it for us him. 

I couldn’t wait to show him the cool thing it did. I took it right over to The Touchable Residence and offered up the tractor. Boy Child’s eyes lit up and he came bumbling over all outstretched arms and drool and other scary stuff. Seriously, where does all that drool come from?? 

My next lesson in little boy toys is that the manufacturers seem to think it’s funny to package these things so well, that I question whether or not they even intend for anybody to get them out. It’s like a cruel joke. Look at the bright orange shiny toy that does wicked awesome stuff!! Haha! Good luck getting it out of the box you retard!! 

Link

After assessing the packaging, I quickly instructed Boy Child to give it to daddy. Now THIS was entertainment!! I watched with mild amusement at Touchable’s slow progress freeing the tractor from its prison. 

Then that golden moment arrived and the tractor was freed!! The tractor was handed to Boy Child who quickly snatched it up in his chubby little hands and clutched it tightly to his chest. Aw ok, that’s actually kinda cute, I thought. Now play with it!!! 

He didn’t play with it. 

He just clutched it tightly like a fat kid with a burger. 

I concluded that he needed a prompt. 

“What’s it do?’ I asked him. 

He eyed me suspiciously for a moment, but then hesitantly put the tractor down and began to push it back and forth. 

Ok, I can work with this, I thought. 

I watched him play with the tractor with baited breath. He didn’t seem interested in the boulder. He just wanted to play with the tractor. Come on kid!! Aren’t you even a little curious about the boulder? 

My fingers began to twitch as I fought the urge to snatch up his tractor and show him the awesomeness that awaited. When was it going to be MY turn!! I wanted to play with the damn tractor!! I exercised good patience and watched him play with it. 

And, that lasted about two minutes before I picked up the boulder and asked him if he wanted to see what that did. He looked at me with big doe eyes and I took that as a yes, please show me the wonders of the tractor oh Mighty Awesome One with Breasts.
 
(What? I’m not going to pretend like I didn’t notice him checking out my chest, alright? I know what he’s thinking when he’s eying those puppies. For me?? To which I would answer: Sorry kid, these are for show only.) 

Link

You know what? Maybe it’s a good thing he doesn’t have an extended vocabulary at this point. 

So I attempted to work the tractor toy. I placed the boulder in the indicated area. I eyed the little red button with mounting excitement. I thought I would build it up with a little drama – you know, for the kid. 

“Oh, I wonder what this button does?” I asked.
 
"I think it launches the boulder," Touchable offered. 
 
I gave him the hairy eyeball, hid my mouth from the kid and whispered: “I know what it does.” 

Touchable snickered.
 
I resumed my drama scene.
 
“Ooooo the red button!!!! I wonder what happens if you push it??”
 
Boy Child reached for the red button.
 
I covered my eyes.
 
“Oh no! Not that! Don’t! I can’t stand to watch!!”
 
Did I ever mention I was in the drama club at high school? 

Link

I peeked through my fingers and watched a smile spread across Boy Child’s mouth. He was reaching for the red button. That’s when I realized, I like this kid. I like him a lot.
 
He pushed the red button.
 
Nothing happened. 

*(@#)&$)~(@*$(%*#*!(!*#(*)~(*$(&$)&)%&)!*

A couple thoughts went through my head. What a piece of shit!! How could this be?? In the name of everything holy, what the fuck is wrong here? Huh, something must be wrong. I wonder if we can work as a team to figure it out. 

I decided to try my luck with the little red button. I pressed it. 

Nothing happened. 

Great, the first thing I buy the kid is a broken piece of crap. 

Boy Child didn’t seem to mind. He played on with the tractor while I tried to pretend the red button malfunction wasn’t irritating me like regrowing pubic hair. 

Let it go, I told myself. And I tried. I really tried. 

When Boy Child let go of the tractor to gaze at something interesting on the television, I seized my opportunity. I could play trucks. I got this! I told myself. I grabbed the tractor and started pushing it toward him.

“Putt, putt, putt bang!” I uttered in my most manly voice. 

Link

The kid’s head whipped in my direction and stared at me like I was a bad accident. He gave me “the look” and I knew I was in serious violation of the vehicle noise imitation code of conduct. 

Boy Child reclaimed ownership of the tractor, eying me carefully. 

“Vrooom! Vroom!” he said. 

Then he looked at me pointedly. 

I hung my head in defeat as I realized I just got schooled by a toddler. 

(At this point I would like to retract my statement regarding the child not being able to tell me when I was screwing up. He may have limited vocabulary skills, but in recalling that moment I realize now Boy Child had effectively communicated that he had given me an F in RPM simulation.) 

I knew I had to redeem myself and once more I started obsessing over the malfunctioning red button. I watched Touchable tinker with it and he also was unsuccessful at initiating the red button launch mode. 

Once more I took to patiently waiting for my opportunity. And sure enough, before too long the tractor was once again left unattended. As soon as nobody was looking, I took to fiddling with the mechanics. 

Link

While boy and father were engaged in diaper changing, I put the tractor, boulder and red button under very close scrutiny. I discovered two red thingys, which I will refer to as launch pad detonators on the bottom of the boulder loader bucket doo-da-da-mabob. Upon further  examination, I discovered that the launch pad detonators seemed to be connected to a spring and locked in and out of place. Ah ha!! A clue!!! 

I quickly developed a theory. 

Being sure that I was still alone with the tractor, I placed the boulder into the boulder loader bucket doo-da-da-maboband pressed down, locking the launch pad detonators in place. Heheheheh!! I felt very sure of myself now. 

I stared down at the little red button mocking me from its place on top of the tractor and I squashed it with my thumb.

The boulder went airborne!! 

I whooped and hollered and shook my booty all over the living room. It. Was. Awesome!!! 

Link

Just then the boys returned from their diaper changing expedition.
I grabbed the boulder. 

“Hey guys, look at this,” I said, holding up the boulder. 

They both eyed me suspiciously as I placed the boulder in the boulder loader bucket doo-da-da-mabob and locked it into place. I knew this was my moment to shine, but instead of pushing the red button and savoring all the glory for myself, I motioned for Boy Child to come push the red button. 

He knelt down beside me and I could see he was a believer.

Without hesitation he pushed the red button and the boulder sprang out of the boulder loader bucket doo-da-da-mabob. I feigned a gasp of surprise (it may have been a little over the top but Boy Child didn’t seem to question its authenticity.) 

Then we locked eyes and he smiled at me. 

We both looked at Touchable and even he seemed impressed. 

I decided to play it cool. 

“I just figured out why they call them Tinker Toys," I said nonchalantly.

Bath Night: Sensual, Playful and Sometimes Humiliating

I’m in love! I love him, Bloggy Nation, I love him!!! (Written while grinning madly at my inner diva who whirls like a school girl in happy little dancey circles across my heart)

Link.

I think there is something to be said for giving somebody space when they start acting bat shit crazy. It’s like when you see somebody eating baking soda out of the box at the super market, you don’t approach them and ask them if they’re ok, No! You back the fuck off, slowly! Am I right? 

So when I backed off with Untouchable (I hate that name now BTW because he is currently anything but that) I think he was able to take inventory of his situation and realize his behavior was… well, about as healthy as eating baking soda from the box in the super market. I also think he was afraid that he was going to lose me. Ok, I don’t think that. I know that because he told me. So much for trying to sound insightful. 

Link

The last few weeks with him have been as perfect as Robert Downey Junior off drugs. I have that fluttery rapid pounding in my heart that I usually only get after I’ve consumed too many Red Bulls every time I think about him. 

One of our new favorite activities is Bath Night. I own of those mighty awesome antique claw-foot tubs perfect for deep soaking. I decorate the bathroom with lit scented candles, draw a steamy hot bubble bath and soak in it for a few moments. Then I call him up and ask him to come join me. 

His house is very close to mine, so he usually appears within a few minutes, all sweaty and panty and stuff. (I’m really not that sexy, he rides his bike over.) By then, I’m all steamy and glistening with sparkling bubbles and feeling very goddess-like. I like the way he pauses each time he steps through the bathroom door and just looks at me. I mean really looks at me! (Loins quivering just thinking about it)

Then he will join me and rub my back while I massage his feet. He has really sexy feet, by the way. I’m not just saying that because I’m fruit loops for him. He has a very sexy way of walking like he’s carefully thinking out the precise placement of each foot, shifting his weight into each one thoughtfully and gracefully. Great Vegan Puppies!! I’m actually about to roll my eyes at myself. Ok, maybe it is because I am fruit for him. I mean I’ve just went off on a pretty healthy rant about the dude’s feet. (Written while duly noting my inner diva resting her chin in her hands and sighing contently)

Link

Back to Bath Night… 

After we’re done caressing each other, I either climb up on the back lip of the tub to rub his shoulders with hot oil, or I’ll sink back onto his chest. We stay like that for a very long time talking about whatever. 

Last night as we were toweling off from Bath Night, he began to marvel at my bottom as he is sometimes prone to do. 

“You have a spectacular bottom,” he said. 

Link

 (This is not me. Not even close.)

“Umm.. I..”

I have a hard time accepting compliments on my bottom because I have a very large scar that runs from my hip down the length of my right cheek. I frowned, while part of me wondered if he was mocking me. 

“No, it’s not just spectacular. Its so… it’s very womanly. No, it’s just that its so shapely, and beautiful, and curvy, and womanly..”

Link

 (Still NOT me.)

He used the word “womanly” six more times and the word “shapely” four more times before I grabbed the towel and covered my spectacular bottom to save him from further struggle. 

He promptly pulled the towel down. 

“I love your two little dimples.”

Link

 (You know I just love messing with you guys, right?)

He bent down to plant a soft kiss on each one. 

“Ok, ok… I get it. Thank you!”

“No, I’m seriously your bottom is so lovely… it so, so, I don’t know the right word to due it justice.”

It’s like he doesn’t even see my scar, I thought. I wondered about it briefly before putting it completely out of my head. 

Link

“I’m going to get dressed now.” 

I left him in the bathroom and began to rummage through my closet for some clothes. I finished drying my hair, and pulled on a nice outfit. 

Untouchable appeared in the doorway. 

“Timeless,” he said. 

I gave him that scrunched up confused look of mine, having no idea what he was talking about. 

“Your bottom!!!” he shouted like it should have been obvious. “It’s timeless!!” 

Link

 (Seriously, I am not showing you my ass, alright?)

“Unbelievable.” I muttered and shook my head in disbelief that he was still on the subject of my bottom. 

Well, it is oddly satisfying to be with a man that has such a deep appreciation for my body - flawed albeit.

Bath Night is not always sensual, or even playful, like that though. There was one bath night a couple weeks ago that I will never forget. 

I had caught that dreadful noro-virus. I spent two agonizing days where my stomach tried to retract its own lining. Horrible. Just horrible. 

It was the second night and my stomach had finally stopped trying to squeeze my intestines out my throat. I was laying in bed, too wrecked to even watch television. I was just laying here and he stepped through my bedroom door. 

Oh no!! No, no, no!! This is every girlfriend’s nightmare!! I hadn’t showered in three days, no comb had touched my head, and if I had any make-up left on my face it most certainly wasn’t in its original position. 

Link

(This baby is more presentable than I was, but the shock value is about right.)

“What are you doing here?” I asked attempting to hide my head under the covers. 

“I came to check on you,” he said. “Your text messages said you were very sick.”

“I am! You better leave before you catch it too!”

He pulled the covers down from over my head and looked at me.

“Have you had anything to drink?” he asked. 

“Yes a little. I was actually thinking about getting a bath, but I haven’t found the energy to get there yet.”

“Ok, well I’m here. I’ll help you.” 

“No!!!” I cried and tried to pull the covers over my head again. 

“Why not?” he asked, holding the covers down. 

My face turned to a pout, like it always does when I try to withhold information from him. I avoided eye contact with. Like, if I don’t look at him, he can’t see me!

Link

“Well?” he asked. 

Oh crap. He’s still there.
 
“I think I have vomit in my hair,” I confessed.

With my humiliation completed, I chanced a look at his face. I could see him accessing the situation and I waited for him to politely excuse himself. 

“Alright, come with me,” he said quietly.  

“I really don’t think I have the energy to get out of bed right now.”

“I will help you,” he said and took my hand. “Do you want to try?”
 
I nodded yes lethargically.

He walked me to the bathroom and sat me down. I watched in a half dazed bewilderment as he filled the tub. Then he turned to me and helped me undress.  

He put me in the tub and knelt down at its edge. 

I felt like crying. I hadn’t eaten, showered or even looked in the mirror in three days. I felt exposed in a way that I really didn’t enjoy. 

Link

(Geez! Not like that! I'm actually completely comfortable with that.)

He soaped up my loofa and quickly gave me a once over. It was not at all our slow sensual routine. I put my head between my knees and hoped it would be over soon, partly because I felt faint, but mostly because I felt humiliated. 

“Lean back and put your head in the water, “ he instructed. 

He put his hand on the back of my head and I lowered myself into the warm soapy water. He lifted me up a moment later and then reached for the shampoo bottle. 

Wait, what?

Before I could protest, he was working a lather briskly through my hair. 

“Are you ok?” he asked. 

I nodded meekly. Like I had a choice…

“Ok, lean back.”

Once more he lowered me into the water and then I could feel his hands running over my hair, working the lather free. 

When he was satisfied, he lifted me up again. I opened my eyes and saw him smiling at me. He was obviously quite impressed with himself.

Truth be told, I was too. 

Yes ladies, if you can find a man that will volunteer to wash three-day old crusted vomit from your hair HOLD ON TO THAT ONE!! Not only is he a keeper, he deserves a damn metal. 

Happily Ever After May Exist Afterall...

To my bloggy friends that predicted Untouchable and I would get back together: YOU WERE RIGHT!! You totally get to wear bragging rights on your chest like a shiny medal pendent. 

I realized that Untouchable and I needed to cool it while he was working through the details of his divorce, because quite frankly he was a hot mess. Hey, I was too when I was faced with the possibility of losing my house, financial ruin of various sorts and losing a kid I had come to think of as my own (except in his case it was his own)

Link

So we saw a little less of each other, and when we did spend time together it was strictly platonic. We baked sugar cookies together, and had a flour fight in my kitchen. We went to the movies, and didn't share the popcorn. We went on hikes in the woods, and didn't fornicate in the bushes. We totally did the friend thing successfully for the last month or so while he focused on taking care of business. 

A few weeks ago, his divorce was finalized and he was relieved that he was able to keep the house, avoid financial ruin, and secure 50 percent custody of his little boy. 

He called me up shortly after the divorce was finalized (Ok, it was like the same day) and told me that he knew he had been "a real douche bag" the last couple of months and thanked me for being there for him through the whole thing. He said the fact that I stood by his side when he was at his worst meant the world to him, and that he would be forever grateful to me for that. 

Link

 
Now call me sentimental, but there is something really sexy about a guy that can admit when he's been guilty of douchebaggery and recognize that I'm a saint all in the same breath. 

I noticed in the weeks that followed he started making a point to tell me when he was leaving town and when he would return. He asked me in advance to spend time with him instead of waiting until the last minute, assuming I would be free. He sent me messages saying he was thinking of me. Suddenly, all the unmet expectations I had prior to telling him we needed to cool it until he got his affairs in order were getting met. So when he asked if he could take me out on a date, of course I said yes.     

Seeing the weather was mild, we decided to go for a hike before hitting a favorite restaurant. We stopped to sit on a bench that overlooked the river. We sat there for a very long time in silence, just taking in the view and listening to nature happening all around us. 

Link

Just as we were growing restless and starting to think about moving on, several flocks of geese flew in from the south. The first flock flew overhead and kept on moving. The last four flocks flew by right in front of us and landed gracefully further down the river. 

"I guess that means it's official," he said nodding toward the geese.

"What's official?" I asked. 

"If the geese have arrived, spring is officially here... and you know what that means?"

I smiled back at him, knowing he what he was going to say.

"What?" I asked softly.

"It's time for new beginnings," he said.

I watched a chronicle of unspoken words move behind his eyes. His gaze burning so intently at me that I had to cast my eyes to the ground. How does he do that to me?? 

He moved his hand under my jaw and tilted my chin up with his thumb. His eyes burning still with curious hope.

"Wouldn't you agree?" he asked.

"To the moon and back," I murmured.  

I slid my arms around his neck and he kissed me passionately there on the water's edge. At that moment, I started to believe in happily ever after again.

Link