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.

Warm gesture

Y and I were joining our friend BLB and her family for dinner two nights before her wedding, along with the newly arrived groom and his family. Her groom came through the door of her childhood home first, followed closely by his brother and parents. He made the necessary introductions first, then hurried over to where BLB was standing with us. He reached out and handed her a box of heating pads.

"I know how these help when you're stressed out, when your shoulders get tight, so I brought them for you."

She thanked him and leaned in for a kiss. Seeing his thoughtfulness, I had even more confidence that their marriage would work.

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.

Symbols

The instructor's shirt had the top button undone and through the open collar a thin gold chain and heavy cross shone against his dark chest hair.

Seeing this, I vividly remembered pushing the neckline of PJ's t-shirt aside with my fingers, my nails lightly scraping over his golden skin and sliding through his coarse chest hair and along his angular collarbone. I slid my index finger under the heavy gold chain that always hung around his neck, tracing over the smooth skin that the chain normally rested on, slowing when I got to the large Star of David pendant. As the pendant flopped over my finger, my stomach tightened.

I wondered whether it was a gift upon his Bar Mitzvah or graduation, but, symptomatic of our communication issues, I never asked. Just as I never asked whether our religious differences would keep us from having a future together.

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.

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.

I feel rain

The rainy weather recently reminds me of our last morning together.

I woke up almost cold on the unfamiliar side of my bed with you as far from me as we could get in one bed. The mood between us never warmed up because I couldn't speak that day.

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Do you remember that night? You called me and called me. I was sick and for the first time wouldn't pick up the phone when I knew you were on the other end. I heard your voice from the answering machine in the next room and just buried my head in my pillow. "I'm sick," I said to myself. "It's okay not to answer the phone because I'm sick. I have to take care of myself."

I finally listened to the messages you left a couple days later. You ended the last one with, "I love you, Angie." The only time I would ever you hear say those words was through a tinny answering machine speaker.

I didn't know how to reply to that message. Maybe you knew. Is that why you called me at the office? I couldn't have been more surprised than when you told me you were coming out to visit. You said we'd talk about that message when you saw me.

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I should have told you why I couldn't speak that day, but I couldn't squeeze any words past the lump in my throat. I was waiting for you to tell me if you loved me. I didn't ask. I guess I could have started the conversation, but I was waiting for you.

Our drive to the airport through the rain capped off that long, cold, silent day. That's why the recent rainy weather reminds me of you.

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.

Go with your gut

What are the consequences when you ignore that feeling in the pit of your stomach? Is it an inability to stop talking, trying to wash away my doubts in a sea of words? Only gaining excitement from the excitement of others? Fearing that you'll hurt someone you're close to or find yourself in this same situation again soon?

What are the consequences when you ignore that feeling in the pit of your stomach, besides a stomachache?

Wistful

"If you can't vent to a boyfriend, who can you vent to?"

I heard the slight uncertainty in his voice behind the word boyfriend. I hope he couldn't see the small flinch I felt transmitted through my muscles. I wasn't ready for that label yet. I acknowledged his comment with a smile and changed the subject.

Later he kissed me goodnight by my back door. I stepped away. "I thought you were leaving." "You're making that difficult," he replied. The exchange was familiar to me--a flirty coda that I'd initiated other times with other men. But this time I didn't feel wistful when he was gone.

Cactus flower

Like a cactus in the desert, I've gone a long time without rain, drawing on my twin reserves of memory and fantasy during this drought. But now there is a storm on the horizon. Suddenly as I open to the sky I can see that there have been storms around me all this time that I just closed my eyes to.

Note #1 to Future Boyfriend

Watching last night's episode of Gilmore Girls, I noticed something I would like to share with my future boyfriend. What better place to preserve this observation for posterity than my blog?

So, Future Boyfriend: once we've been together for a tv season, a kiss on the cheekbone is a sexy and intimate yet allowable (parent appropriate even!) PDA.

Ready

Last Friday night I dreamt that I married Tom Selleck. It was a great feeling to be unconditionally loved, to have someone walk up and embrace me from behind while I was standing at the kitchen counter.  His love for me was obvious and there were scores of people in our house to celebrate the occasion.

After the guests left, he led me through the house to our bedroom in the furthest wing.  When we got there, the room was still in the beginning of stages of construction.  He was so proud of the wood framing and concrete slab floor with utility connections still sticking through it.  Does this mean that I’m not ready or that he’s not?