Thursday, December 18, 2003
JE SUIS CONTENT
Oh Glorious Day.
There are times in my life when I actually feel as though the truculent powers of the universe are too busy to meddle in my life and make it miserable, as they are oft wont to do. Last night was such a time. For a full day it was as if the evil overseers of my life were rendered immobile, and I was released from the chain that ties me to the opaque cloud that impedes my progress as I move to and from my daily activities. I have, in the last week, witnessed a gossamer of my dreams manifest itself into reality.
S, the guy I have started seeing on a regular basis has been calling more frequently, and this much to my surprise and delight. Twice he called this week "just to say hi." Of course, the first time he called, I was careful not to call back- I didn't want to look too eager. It was after the second phone call that I realized he was not joking; in his message on my voice mail he clearly said that he missed me and wanted to talk to me, and wondered why I hadn't emailed or called him back. So I have started calling him back, and that more frequently. This has proved rewarding because (although he claims he despises talking on the phone) we talk for great lengths of time, and laugh at just about everything. He is an evocative conversationalist, and we have very balanced discussions. By balanced, I mean that he is not one of those men who has a propensity to make effete attempts at conversation by inserting sexual innuendos every which way, but he can still be very sensual when the time calls for it. His sensuality (not sexuality) is always there- lingering about him- it's very nice, but it's not over powering, thank goodness.
On Sunday he called to ask me out again. This will bring us to exactly one month of dating. And what piquant dates they have been. The word "appreciated" comes to mind when I think of the many things he does to cater to the least of my valleities. Each new date seems to be the zenith of our dating experience until we set up another one, and it far exceeds the one that preceded it. The incorrigible and austere powers of the universe have vindicated me, perhaps.
Last night we went to the Melting Pot, an establishment that serves 4-5 course meals consisting solely of Fondue. It is also renowned for its vast selection of continental wine. The food was superb, the ambience was perfection; our contentment was highly palpable. He had never eaten there, but I could tell he enjoyed it, although the bill caused my heart to palpitate with anxiety. He said it was romantic- odd, I find that he seeks to add a romantic element to all our dates. There was a surfeit of talking, laughing, and kissing, which was mostly initiated by him. Again, nothing overtly or covertly sexual- just innocently romantic.
We closed out the restaurant- we were the last two to leave. We felt bad for the waiter who probably wanted to get home to his girlfriend, as it was close to 12 am. We took the dessert portion of our meal "to go" and drove around the neighborhood for a while, looking at the pretty lights in the Foothills area. He really likes to hold hands when we drive anywhere, so we drove home that way, hand in hand, intermittently humming along to the Christmas carols on the radio.
When he dropped me off at my house, he leaned in for a good night kiss (or two, or three) that lasted for what seemed several minutes. The conversation that floated in and out of the kisses included a request to spend time together on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. And New Year's if we both came back from out of town early. I said I thought it would be possible, and that I would enjoy that very much.
Perhaps the most illuminating moment of the night came when he leaned in close to repeat what he had been saying all night long in a variety of ways: that he liked me. He really liked me. He went so far as to confess that he had been trying not to like me. Relieved to hear that I was not the only one under this duress, I confessed the same, and it felt good to say it. Reluctantly, we kissed one last time, and I retired to my bedroom in a state of bewilderment and awe.
I know that some may wonder why I choose to write about my romantic pursuits on my blog. Some may be skeptical, and say that I am experiencing the obligatory moments of euphoria that is typical of the first few months of dating. To these people, I would say that I am inclined to agree, but I would end that declarative statement with the questions: "so what?" It doesn't matter. I truly feel that even if this goes nowhere, the time I have spent with him thus far has been well spent, and well worth it.
I wish I could say more than I already have. I wish I were able to pen my thoughts more vividly, more succinctly, in a less gushy-school-girl sort of way. But that is my reality right now, and I won't apologize for it. I can only hope that 6 months from now, I am still blogging and reporting the same thoughts, the same emotions- but with more intensity and less verbosity.
Je suis content.
Oh Glorious Day.
There are times in my life when I actually feel as though the truculent powers of the universe are too busy to meddle in my life and make it miserable, as they are oft wont to do. Last night was such a time. For a full day it was as if the evil overseers of my life were rendered immobile, and I was released from the chain that ties me to the opaque cloud that impedes my progress as I move to and from my daily activities. I have, in the last week, witnessed a gossamer of my dreams manifest itself into reality.
S, the guy I have started seeing on a regular basis has been calling more frequently, and this much to my surprise and delight. Twice he called this week "just to say hi." Of course, the first time he called, I was careful not to call back- I didn't want to look too eager. It was after the second phone call that I realized he was not joking; in his message on my voice mail he clearly said that he missed me and wanted to talk to me, and wondered why I hadn't emailed or called him back. So I have started calling him back, and that more frequently. This has proved rewarding because (although he claims he despises talking on the phone) we talk for great lengths of time, and laugh at just about everything. He is an evocative conversationalist, and we have very balanced discussions. By balanced, I mean that he is not one of those men who has a propensity to make effete attempts at conversation by inserting sexual innuendos every which way, but he can still be very sensual when the time calls for it. His sensuality (not sexuality) is always there- lingering about him- it's very nice, but it's not over powering, thank goodness.
On Sunday he called to ask me out again. This will bring us to exactly one month of dating. And what piquant dates they have been. The word "appreciated" comes to mind when I think of the many things he does to cater to the least of my valleities. Each new date seems to be the zenith of our dating experience until we set up another one, and it far exceeds the one that preceded it. The incorrigible and austere powers of the universe have vindicated me, perhaps.
Last night we went to the Melting Pot, an establishment that serves 4-5 course meals consisting solely of Fondue. It is also renowned for its vast selection of continental wine. The food was superb, the ambience was perfection; our contentment was highly palpable. He had never eaten there, but I could tell he enjoyed it, although the bill caused my heart to palpitate with anxiety. He said it was romantic- odd, I find that he seeks to add a romantic element to all our dates. There was a surfeit of talking, laughing, and kissing, which was mostly initiated by him. Again, nothing overtly or covertly sexual- just innocently romantic.
We closed out the restaurant- we were the last two to leave. We felt bad for the waiter who probably wanted to get home to his girlfriend, as it was close to 12 am. We took the dessert portion of our meal "to go" and drove around the neighborhood for a while, looking at the pretty lights in the Foothills area. He really likes to hold hands when we drive anywhere, so we drove home that way, hand in hand, intermittently humming along to the Christmas carols on the radio.
When he dropped me off at my house, he leaned in for a good night kiss (or two, or three) that lasted for what seemed several minutes. The conversation that floated in and out of the kisses included a request to spend time together on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. And New Year's if we both came back from out of town early. I said I thought it would be possible, and that I would enjoy that very much.
Perhaps the most illuminating moment of the night came when he leaned in close to repeat what he had been saying all night long in a variety of ways: that he liked me. He really liked me. He went so far as to confess that he had been trying not to like me. Relieved to hear that I was not the only one under this duress, I confessed the same, and it felt good to say it. Reluctantly, we kissed one last time, and I retired to my bedroom in a state of bewilderment and awe.
I know that some may wonder why I choose to write about my romantic pursuits on my blog. Some may be skeptical, and say that I am experiencing the obligatory moments of euphoria that is typical of the first few months of dating. To these people, I would say that I am inclined to agree, but I would end that declarative statement with the questions: "so what?" It doesn't matter. I truly feel that even if this goes nowhere, the time I have spent with him thus far has been well spent, and well worth it.
I wish I could say more than I already have. I wish I were able to pen my thoughts more vividly, more succinctly, in a less gushy-school-girl sort of way. But that is my reality right now, and I won't apologize for it. I can only hope that 6 months from now, I am still blogging and reporting the same thoughts, the same emotions- but with more intensity and less verbosity.
Je suis content.
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