Results

Eight years ago all my roommates went to bed while I stayed awake on the couch, glued to the election results. I made one of those silly bargains with myself--that my candidate would win if I just waited up long enough. After the networks finally decided Florida was too close to call and it became clear neither candidate was going to publicly concede, I fell asleep to the chatter of tv journalists rehashing the lack of a decisive victory in an endless loop.

I woke up in the wee hours of the morning, finding that the result was still unclear after my nap, and stumbled to bed, but, because of that, I feel like I never fulfilled that bargain I made with myself. So tonight, after getting my free ice cream, I'll curl up on the couch with F and watch the numbers come in.

Another letter to D

Another morning, another reminder of you. Today it was "Torn". The imagery of the song is always lost on me because instead I picture the bluffs of Nebraska as we drove along in your "little red roller skate". Somehow it is extra fitting since I'm off on a road trip with my boyfriend F this weekend.

Dreaming of you

I came slowly awake at nearly 1am mumbling in response to something you said. My eyes shot open when I realized that I must've fallen asleep talking to you. I realized that I didn't have my cell phone in my hand. I began patting around my body, searching sightlessly in the dark for my small black phone.

My feelings of panic increased and I began to widen my search area, hopping out of bed and patting all the bedcovers. I turned my head to the side and saw the small appliance, neatly plugged in and placed on the corner of my bedside table. Seeing it reminded me of you sweetly saying goodnight to me, and my sleepy struggle to plug the charger into the small hole on its base.

I love talking to you in the dark before I fall asleep, but apparently last night I loved it so much that I dreamt it continued after I burrowed into my blankets and fell asleep.

Note #2 to my boyfriend

Ways to endear yourself to your girlfriend...

insist that at next year's Oscars you'll get a sponsorship from McDonald's and feed all the starving actresses on the red carpet.

See note 1.

Tuned out

The guys were talking college sports when I went downstairs for lunch at work today. I wanted to read my book, so I only added a couple comments. As the last one was heading upstairs, he commented,"Here we've been disturbing you when all you were trying to do was read your book."

I looked up at him and joked, "My boyfriend works in sports radio, I'm very practiced at tuning out sports talk that doesn't interest me."

Odds

F called me yesterday morning. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"Your grandmother and mine are next door to each other," he informed me. I laughed. "I was going to send flowers up to your grandmother's room and I discovered they were right next door to each other."

Which odds are better: that they would place our grandmothers next door to each other or that I'd get such a thoughtful boyfriend?

Still more good news: Both grandmothers have been moved out of recovery, unfortunately ending their stay as neighbors, but they both seem to be doing well.

Freaked out

This song came on, just after taking a call from my mom as she followed an ambulance to hospital with my grandmother in the back.

I know that my grandmother does everything right--eating well, walking with her dog twice day, and has barely been sick a day in her life. This situation should have a positive outcome. But I'm still waiting on pins and needles. Please think positive thoughts for my grandmother.

While you're sharing those positive thoughts, please spare some for F's grandmother and R's father who are both having surgery or preparing for surgery today.

Good news: my grandmother's appendix ruptured but it has been removed and she seems to be doing well in recovery. F's grandmother is also out of surgery and doing well so far. Ironically they'll be recovering in the same hospital for the next week.

Please keep R's father in your thoughts while he's under the knife today.

Misunderstanding

I joined F's family for a Hanukkah breakfast yesterday morning. My mom asked me about it afterward and I explained that this breakfast was their primary celebration this year, they were even foregoing gifts.

"Oh, so they celebrate Christmas?" she asked.

"No," I answered. "Hanukkah isn't a major Jewish holiday..."

"I know," she interrupted.

"And they've just gotten away from giving gifts since their kids have grown up." I finished.

"Oh. So, have you guys talked about the holidays?" she asked.

I paused. "We have." I answered. I opened my mouth to say more and discovered it was suddenly dry. "We decided, since neither of us are very..." I faltered, "that neither of us have any objections to celebrating two religions that we could celebrate at least traditions from both." I looked down. "We haven't decided which one we would raise our, um, children in, so that's still a big question hanging out there."

Now it was her turn to be silent. "I meant whether you'd talked about celebrating the holidays."

"Oh," I said, embarrassed. "We thought we'd kind of just see how this month went. I told him I might be able to wrangle him an invitation to Christmas dinner."

"Sure," she said.

Weird

Is it weird that after F and I finally had our talk about religion, the person I really wanted to talk to about it was PJ?

When I told him about our conversation, now a couple of weeks removed, PJ asked if it would be weird for him to offer his help.

And the weirdest thing was that it wasn't weird at all to discuss that topic with him.

Trees and stars

As F and I drive past some territory very familiar to me, I point out the window at the star that this town will begin lighting soon to commemorate the holiday season. F remarks that a star is a fairly safe symbol to put up and I agree.

Then he says, "Just so you know, it wouldn't bother me if you put a Christmas tree. It isn't really a religious symbol."

"I know, it's originally a pagan tradition," I agreed. "I'm glad you wouldn't mind a tree because I've been collecting ornaments for years and I'd hate to have to get rid of them." But something gave away my anxiety about that conversation--the way I covered our clasped hands with my other hand or the way my whole body tensed up.

F waited for a minute--maybe hoping we'd continue the conversation--and then gave me his patented reassuring statement: "We can have this conversation whenever you're ready. And I don't think that anything will come up that we can't handle." I nodded my head and then waiting just a minute before I changed the subject.

Thank heaven for little girls

My friend Y used to love to tease me about my pattern of dating older men. Her favorite line: "Of course you haven't met anyone recently--have you tried nursing homes?"

Mathematically I've actually dated more men my own age than significantly older men, but between having my first relationship with someone much older and my friends' good-natured teasing, I internalized the idea that I had a predilection for older men. That personal expectation explains why I was a little uncomfortable this weekend when we celebrated F's birthday and I was confronted with reminders that he is actually a few months younger than I am.

I realize that a few months is insignificant in the grand scheme of life. Even the year that separates our respective graduations is insignificant at this point. It just grates against my internal expectations to see him get the same birthday greetings I've already received. I'm sure in time my expectations will change and this will all be forgotten. Or maybe I'll heed Y and head to a nursing home to pick up someone new that meets my expectations.

Revealing truths

My boyfriend and I were hanging out at his parents' house last night. Something was said and his mom started talking about the Halloween costumes he wore as a kid and dragged out the photo albums to illustrate her stories.

Sitting next to her on the floor in their living room, I leaned over the photos and was surprised at how eager I was to see these new images of the man next to me. F sat behind me, watching over my shoulder and adding an occasional remark to her narration.

First she found a picture of him as John Elway, not surprising considering he grew up in Denver too. I giggled at how complete his costume was: helmet, jersey, short pants and knee socks. I turned my head and smiled at F, before turning back for the pictures of him as a pirate and as Superman (a favorite character of mine!).

Soon she came across a picture of him in an elaborate Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costume. Squinting at the pictures of him, I asked him which TMNT he was. Without giving him a chance to answer, I caught a glimpse of the buckle on the belt of the costume and said, "Oh, you were Michelangelo." "No, that's an R.," he pointed out indignantly. "I was Raphael."

His arm stayed over my shoulder after his gesture and now his breath was near my ear as his mom flipped backwards through his life, searching for the piece de resistance. I found out this weekend that F had a love of Snoopy when he was young, so it was a kindergarten-aged F dressed as Snoopy that made up our last stop along memory lane. His mom found the pictures she was looking for and began to describe the costume, from the floppy ears to the gloves with paw prints on the palms, but it was the emotion of the story that drew me in. She smiled as she reminisced that he just beamed all day when he got to wear his Snoopy costume, and her smile turned bittersweet when she said that she couldn't bear to give the costume away when he outgrew it.

Seeing her emotion and feeling F's arms wrapped around me, my heart began to overflow with my feelings for him. I grinned at the images of him in the Snoopy costume and the adjacent holiday pictures of him in a child-sized suit. I also felt a flutter lower than my heart, reflecting my curiosity about whether we could have a son that looked like that.

Scent of a man

They say scent is the sense that will most vividly retrieve memories for us. They also say that we're attracted to potential mates by their scent.

I first noticed a man's scent after Ants kissed me goodnight in one of my very first kisses. As I drove home that night I could just faintly detect his scent on my letter jacket.

For years after my breakup with D I knew that I would be able to identify him in a dark room just by the way he smelled--loving and tender, with just a hint of innocence.

One of the proctors for my GMAT wore the same cologne S did when we were together. It was so distracting to me that I was relieved when he was assigned to sit outside the room while we took our test.

Now it is F's scent that I smell on my clothes when I get home at night. My perception of his scent has changed since we started seeing each other. He still smells clean, but he also smells warm and solid.

I know that my perceptions of his scent are reflections of our deepening relationship. I'm glad for the ways that it has already changed, curious to see how it continues to change, and wondering if I'm ignoring messages that part of me already knows.

Growing younger

Maybe I'm going about this whole relationship thing backwards...

I never had a boyfriend in high school that was my age. The men I flirted with and dated were then the age that I am now. I avoided tentative kisses on the back porch and the other moves of a young partner. I learned about relationships from teachers instead of other students.

I feel that I failed when it was my turn to be the teacher and since that failure I've avoided that role. But now I find myself in a relationship that started with hesitant kisses by the back door and I wonder if I've entered my first high school relationship.

The other night I inadvertently revealed this concern; as we drove away from the other cars parked along neighborhood's edge, he remarked that it would be nice when we had more space to ourselves than just our cars. I laughed and said that high school students had been doing it since the invention of cars.

Individual responsibility

When I was in college, sometimes before we went to parties, I would approach one of my best friends. "Don't let me flirt with T," I would say. But inevitably, once the lights were dimmed and the drinks were poured, I would be standing close to T sharing my best smiles and giggling flirtatiously. Sometimes one of those friends would pull me aside. "You told me not to let you flirt with T tonight," they would remind me. I always insisted that I was an adult and knew what I was doing, pulling my arm away from hers and striding back to T's side until I got the attention I was looking for.

Those nights it wasn't alcohol that removed my inhibitions--I had already shed my responsibility, leaving it puddled at my friends' feet.

As I face T's wedding this weekend, I am sorely tempted to lay my mixed feelings at the feet of those same friends. But then I picture the faces of my boyfriend and T's bride and I swallow my words, silently packing my responsibility in my luggage with the dress for Saturday's wedding.

Never say never

A few minutes I ago I ran into a coworker at the top of the stairs. "Why don't you just call your roommate your boyfriend?" he blurted out. I blinked, surprised by his sudden question but not surprised that he had confirmed my belief he was attracted to me. "Because he isn't. But I am seeing someone else," I revealed, ending my careful use of the term "friend" and gender-neutral pronouns.

I'd never admitted to him that I was dating anyone.

Last night, as I walked up the street to meet him, I saw a man leaning against the rock wall. As he casually waited there, eyes cloaked behind sunglasses, I thought, "Wow, he looks good. I wish I was meeting him." And then he stepped away from the wall and smiled at me--it was my boyfriend F.

I've never seen him from that perspective before.

Two weeks ago I got teary at work thinking about the last sorority meeting I would attend as their chapter advisor. The more I thought about it, the clearer it became that I wanted someone to lean on that night while I faced that transition. So I actually told F that it was going to be hard for me and that I would appreciate his support. He gave up his evening to be downstairs during my last sorority meetings, ignored by most chapter members and scrutinized by the few I had told about his role in my life. After, he returned to my house with me--reading my speech I was giving the next day and supporting me with his presence.

I've never admitted to someone that I needed support, much less allowed them to give it to me.

After years of forcing our relationship to be "just friends" and never thinking of him in a romantic context, I told him I would date him.

I never thought it would be F that would help me push aside these other "nevers".

Wondering

I toyed with the silver ring as we chatted last month, moving it from my right hand to my left and on and off my left thumb and ring finger. I barely noticed the way my hands were moving as I indulged the absent-minded habit. My hands paused and she glanced down at them.

"Getting used to wearing a ring on that finger?" she asked. I followed her gaze and realized the plain silver band had settled on my left ring finger, possibly mimicking a plain band of gold that might one day rest there permanently.

"Oh no, I just play with rings when I wear them," I quickly corrected her with a smile, as I made a show of moving the ring to my other hand.

This morning I grabbed that same ring out of my jewelry box. As I toy with the ring in between thoughts, I think back to her question and glance down at my hand, appraising how the ring looks on that significant finger and wondering what it would be like to have someone else place a ring there.

Wrong way

About a week ago I was walking to my office when I saw a car pull across the yellow line, not realizing that traffic there flowed in both directions. A car behind it started honking, staying back so he could wave the car back into the correct traffic lane. Thanks to quick action on the part of that driver, the incident was quickly resolved without any negative consequences.

This morning a car did the same thing, ending up facing opposing traffic to attempt a left hand turn. While the pedestrians all turned and stared at the car, none of the other cars on the road made any attempt to correct the situation. The driver facing opposing traffic was either oblivious to the stares of the surrounding pedestrians and cars facing him or so cool under pressure that he gave absolutely no indication he was in error. Thankfully the facing cars waited for him to complete his turn and traffic immediately returned to business as usual.

Like the driver this morning, I feel that I've committed myself to a path, at least for the next month or so. Unfortunately I can't see the yellow line from where I am, so I can only hope that a kind driver behind me will wave me over if I'm headed in the wrong direction.

Fear

I am afraid of spiders.

Tonight I pulled a blanket out of a chest and I shook it out before I wrapped it around my shoulders, I shrieked and leapt away from the big black spider that had appeared at my feet. The blanket was puddled at my feet as I gasped for breath. I went upstairs to grab a shoe to kill the spider and, when I returned, I looked down to aim for the spider and shrieked again--seeing for the first time the web that must've been rubbed from the blanket onto my sweater. Jumping up and down, I ripped my sweater off and stood there gasping from adrenaline once more. More than once I stalked towards the spider, only to run away when the spider moved. In between I watched it, working up my nerve to get close enough to kill it. Finally I forced myself not to run away and I killed the spider.

I am afraid of relationships.

More than a month ago he asked if I wanted to go out with him. That first night I could barely meet his eyes, afraid of crossing that boundary. Even as we started seeing each other I was tentative, afraid that I wasn't attracted to him and afraid that I didn't want to be with someone so naive again. As he kissed me goodnight on his threshold a couple weeks ago I breathed in his scent and felt myself start to relax for the first time, start to enjoy our kiss, and then I blinked at the distance I had already put between us. Last weekend I decided that it was time to decide for certain about our chemistry so I arranged for us to enjoy an evening together alone. We watched two movies, holding onto each other in the dim light, but each time he glanced toward me I looked away. Afterward I'd have normally said it was time for him to go, but the moment of decision had come and I leaned into him. Finally I didn't pull away.

That friend

She's right, you know. Somehow she's always understood me even better than I've understood myself. She offers me a perspective I wouldn't have seen without her and when she tells me what I should do, she's illuminating the way to being someone I've always wanted to be--her.

The fact she thinks that I can do better, that she thinks my search for chemistry is doomed, makes me wonder how I should tell him I'd rather be friends. The fact that we never talk about our past and that I keep the subject away from what our relationship is these days and how I feel about him could be another nail in this coffin. Or perhaps it shows the way to find what I'm looking for.

What's right for her isn't right for me. And how can she really understand when we only talk once a year, despite the intensity of our college friendship? So that leaves the question--do I live like her to try and be more like her?