Upping The Ante

I cried in front of the boy. I wrote the boy a birthday card. I asked to see the boy two times in one day. And now the boy and I will be spending two whole nights together. In a row. I keep raising the stakes and he keeps matching my bets. (Why, oh why did I choose a poker metaphor when I'm not even sure I'm using it the right way?) Despite the fear, I push forward. So far, I've been rewarded. Eventually, I'm not gonna love the answer. I know this and I'm thinking about how to be okay with this.

People keep chastising me for preparing for disappointment. As if their romantic lives have never hit a snag. Bad stuff happens. People get hurt. Why can't I steel myself for that? This doesn't mean I expect catastrophe. I don't think I do, but I'd rather be ready for it than not.

Today, it's all rainbows and cupcakes and I'm concentrating on all the good. Which is good enough for me.

Whateveritisthisis

He said "relationship", so let's go with that. I'm proud of myself for only freaking out (and inwardly, at that!) for a few hours before questioning the boy about it. His response: "That is what this is, right?" Huh. Well, I'll be! I guess so. It feels good, even if the words are still difficult to say.

And now I've been invited to one of his work functions. Terrifying. Like a test for which I have no idea how to study. So, I will jump in head first and probably talk too much, as usual. And hope no one realizes how NOT EVEN CLOSE to a brilliant computer nerd I am.

Yesterday, I received an email from one of my C's. The youngest, girlest (not to be read as girlIest) C. Goodness, do I love hearing from her, but nothing can send me into a fit of tears like reading her (or her brothers') messages always does. 

Absence hasn't made my heart grow fonder; that would have been impossible. It's just that the interactions we have now are so far-between that each one packs an emotional wallop. All the love and longing I've had for her during the in-between times has compounded and hits me like a wrecking ball. But I can take it. Knocks me down, stings for a bit, then I get back up and move towards the next one. Sigh. (She totally got that from me.)

Phew

After a little misunderstanding, the boy was okay with it. Not sure he's gonna be a loyal reader, but I don't need him to be. I just need him to be okay with me. And my urge to spill my guts to anyone willing to listen. Also, if he could rub my feet once in a while, that'd be good, too.

Here's something that will be extra hard for me: talking to him about something before I talk myself through it on here. He pointed out that he didn't want to be surprised by anything he reads here. Nothing that involves him, anyway. He's right; that's a fair expectation. 

I wonder if he'd be surprised to read how much fun I have in the time we spend together. (a LOT) Or what a kick I get out of his shyness and what I interpret as his fondness for my lack of it. (please let that be the case) A few days ago, I tried to get him to fight with me, because I'd been trying to imagine how we would argue. He started a faux-fight with me about not wanting to fight. That was pretty damn cute. I'll stop now.

Now He Knows

Told the boy about this blog because C said I should. Yes, I'm down to one; made my choice and throwing myself into it. I honestly thought C would tell me I didn't need to own up. He's way sneakier than my brother-in-law, who recommended against sharing. But I suppose it's only fair for the boy to know if I plan to write about him. While cooking him dinner, I spilled the beans. Clever, right? Who could be upset at someone using fresh thyme and organic chicken breast? I made my own mushroom stock, for goodness' sake! He seemed to handle it pretty well. Of course, he hasn't actually seen it yet.

I'm a bit reluctant to write, though. And not only because he could potentially read it. Even before I told him, I was nervous about labeling whatever-it-is-this-is. Afraid of jinxing it, for sure. But also just afraid. 

I'm not used to things like this working so smoothly. Or being excited to see someone each and every time. Granted, there've only been 8 times, but, seriously, that's a record for me lately. And I certainly haven't gone nearly three weeks without looking for a date in recent (or even not so recent) memory. Frees up a lot of time. But doesn't leave me with many options. I know I said I need my choices to be limited, but not having a back-up really puts a lot of pressure on the boy. And me.