Tonight’s Blog Brought To You By


Butterflies in my stomach.

I just got off the phone with the gentleman I was supposed to have coffee with today.

He had to retract the offer, it turned out to not be a good day for meeting up.

That’s two Sunday’s in a row now I have been cancelled on.  However, I don’t believe I will get stood up tomorrow, we rescheduled.

I wasn’t also stood up, it was more like, we should do coffee soon and we tried to make today work on short notice.

So tomorrow we will meet up for real, no coffee, but tea.

You know when you like a guy?

Or, excuse me, I, you know when I like a guy?

When I wash my hair.

Yeah, crazy that.

But no really.

My hair is kind of a big deal, literally–I have a lot of it, and it’s a hassle to deal with, although I love it greatly and don’t mind when the occasion calls for it to do something special.

In preparation for what I thought would be our first coffee date, I washed my hair, which means I shampoo’ed it, now I do that about once a week or so, maybe every week and a half, shampooing it is a huge pain and it wreaks havoc with it.

But.

Oh.

It’s so soft when I do.

And I took the time to air dry it.

That’s when I know I like a guy, when I air dry my hair.

It means I want him to touch it, because I take the time to let it dry naturally, which takes about oh, two hours to get it fully dry.  Two hours from wash to dry.  That’s a commitment, plus I pampered the fuck out of it–coconut hair mousse while it was starting to dry and finished with French Aragon hair oil.

This means nothing to you.

Unless you plunge your hands in the hair.

I looked like a wonton siren today roaming the beach as the wind blew my hair this way and that, it was windy down there, but my, the hair felt so good.

Ha.

Even though said date was unable to make today work, I don’t feel like the effort was wasted.

There’s nothing quite so satisfying as feeling sexy for oneself and I took care of that too, ahem.

I’m kind of like a guy that way, I figured better satisfying the itch before the fellow and I meet, I don’t need to dry hump his leg the first time we hang out.

Perhaps I am being a bit over the top here, but I did acknowledged to him while we were talking on the phone this evening that I might have pounced on him last night.

Not that he was complaining.

I saw him on campus and a mutual friend of ours introduced us, there was some spark immediately.  I probably spent too much time last night trying to look like I wasn’t looking.

But I was.

After an hour had passed and some hand holding, not with him, I might have fallen over, I now think, I thought to myself, you are making a move, lady pants, get on it.

Plus, I felt obliged as I outed myself and my intentions to have a date a week lined up–when I make a commitment I want to stick with it.

Not to find the one.

There is no One.

I am the one, but to date, to get out there, to not hide my light under a bushel, to share myself with another, to go out, leap, fly, blindly perhaps, but leaping knowing I will be caught.

Because that’s what I am realizing more and more, I am good at, taking risks, leaping, living.

I have developed faith.

So I leapt.

Well.

Let me be honest.

I was rather dragged, I don’t know that leaping is the right adjective for the feeling.

I have not felt this kind of pull before.

I went to the bathroom to collect myself and pee, because, well, frankly I didn’t want to be distracted by my bladder when I made my move.

I didn’t spend time hiding in the loo, though, I did the business, washed the paws and got out there.

Where’d he go.

I scanned the room.

I saw our friend.

Then.

I saw him.

Standing alone nibbling on a sugar cookie.

Mind if I nibble on you?

I strode across the floor.

It felt, in hindsight, like I was being pulled, that’s the best way I can put it, it felt like a magnet drawing me.

I don’t remember exactly what I said, I was a little distracted by the blue eyes, a lot, but it went something like this: “I have to say this before I lose my nerve, I find your really attractive and,” I think I laughed here, “I don’t even know if you’re single, but if you are and you want to hang out sometime, I would love to get a coffee with you.”

“Yes, I am and yes, I would, you’re hot,” he said.

I think that’s what he said.

I remember the “you’re hot,” part.

What girl doesn’t want to hear that?

“I’ve noticed you around before and I have to say that you’re yourself, you’re authentic, and that’s super sexy.” He said to me when we talked this evening.

Wait.

Say that again.

Ah.

Actually, you don’t need to.

I know that I am my best self when I am being myself and that when the time was right the time would be right.

The time is right.

“I have to say this and I’m probably jumping the gun, but, let’s go slow,” he said.

Yes.

I actually do know what you mean and I agree.

There’s nowhere I need to be immediately, I don’t have plans for you.

Well.

Ok.

I lie a little.

I really do want to kiss you.

But.

We both know that.

“I don’t know how long it’s been since I have felt that,” I said to him, acknowledging the very powerful and immediate chemistry we both owned up to.

He sent me a text re that.

And that’s private for me only folks, I get to keep some of this to myself.

I am like a greedy girl with secret treasure hoarding it all to myself.

But it was a snap, a spark, an electric pop, blue lighting, blue like his eyes.

“I felt zapped,” I said.

And I did.

Zoom zip and I wake up, zoooooom zip.

Hit by lighting and left a bit light-headed and light-hearted.

And unlike my date who forgot we had a date last week, said gentleman, Mister Blue Eyes, did not forget and we rescheduled.

For somewhere safe and public.

For tea tomorrow after I get done with work.

I won’t have time to rewash the hair.

But you know, I venture it will still be lively.

I expect it to stand on end when I see him.

God only knows what it will do if he kisses me.

Hair updates to follow.

Ha!

 

 

 

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One Response to “Tonight’s Blog Brought To You By”

  1. Secondhand Surfer Says:

    It’s all about the hair…

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