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.

Let's Face It

I'm not going to reach my goal ((promise). cringe.) of 30 posts this month.  It sucks because I like to pride myself on promise keeping, but I've been living an actual life, people. With work and boys and NYC and everything. So, while I'm sorry to fall short, I'm not sorry I've been too busy. And I know no one out there was too disappointed with my still fairly frequent entries.  No matter what my mother says.

Baby Steps

You know what? Who cares if I'm behaving like a toddler. This new whateveritis of mine (attitude? outlook on life?) IS only a few years old, so I suppose I'm bound to make a few mistakes while I figure everything out. And get used to not being able to figuring everything out. Black and white got thrown out the window and left behind a whole lotta grey. But part of this late immaturity manifests itself as me having a fit because I'm not getting everything I want or I'm ashamed of a mistake. Quiet tantrums, for the most part. And instead of turning on others, I scold myself. Progress?

Choices: Part Deux

Again, I'm likening myself to a toddler. Sigh. Apparently, I needed one of my choices taken away. Wasn't making my mind up fully enough, so one of my options removed himself from the equation. Maybe that's what I was waiting for anyway? 

I do have a history of procrastinating until there really is no time to do anything other than the task at hand. Not sure if this situation totally relates to this particular problem of mine, but there are parallels. Instead of making a clear decision right off the bat and getting to work making THAT work, I hedged. I hemmed and hawed. I MOSTly chose Door Number 1. Only I kept the key belonging to Door Number 2, in order to peek inside from time to time. Well, Door Number 2 changed his lock and won't be inviting me for any more visits. 

Now I get to focus on 1. That's a good thing right? And J says I have a problem with commitment! Crazy talk.

Choices

I think I made mine. Why "think"? Probably because I'm never completely sure I'm doing the right thing. Worry seems to seep in wherever it can find a crack and I'm full of them. It seems as if every time I get one of those cracks filled in, the pressure moves to another area and creates a new fissure. 

In my head, I know choosing one boy over another doesn't have to be a life-long commitment. But the idea of missing a good opportunity bothers me. And things are too new with the chosen one to know for sure whether or not I've made the right decision. When does that confidence kick in? A few weeks? Months? Never? Or should it have already happened, right away, like in a movie? The answer is most likely "never". I really, really hate that answer, because I really, really hate doubt.

No need to wonder, A; of course this is about you.