The problem with drinking...

I tend to gravitate to wine.  This is a habit formed when I was married to a Frenchman for 5 years.  Wine was like the period to every sentence.  It was with every meal and made every day just wonderful.  Now that I think about it, it's probably why our first 4 years were such bliss. So now that I've been single again for more years than I was married, it has basically replaced my husband.  We hang out every other day or so, depending on when I have to get up in the morning.  It works out - wine is the gorgeous boyfriend without the boring conversation or the need not to eat too much.

That being said (and Merlot laying next to me in bed stroking my arm), I am writing this blogpost under the influence.  I tend to be a little more honest and open than if you talked to me at 8 am.

I think I'm in love.

That statement in itself needs explanation which I will try to do in the most minimal of sentences (because even though I blog and write, I don't necessarily like to read).  I have come to the conclusion that I was in love with accidental BF#1.  After months of study and periodic sessions of thought and reflective data analyzation, I have come to the scientific conclusion that I must have been in love.  Why else would the universe form a perfect cycle around him, everything wrong with my life disappear when he called me, my heart break into pieces  that I can't retrieve when we decided never to see each other again, and every man I meet since not measure up to his image?  For a long time, I shrugged it off as nostalga and romantic nonsense.  I wasn't being logical with myself.  But now that time has passed and my heart can actually beat without assistance, I see that I was smitten with the number one heart disease in the world - love. That being said: now I can see the wisdom in what I've learned because now I can see it happeneing beforehand and not in the most pain imaginable aftermath.

I am trying (and this time, I really am) not to fall for the giddy ex-con that has made his way into the yard.  Honestly, I am not even quite sure how it has happened to end up this way because I was in no way attracted to him in a sexual way. It was all just fun and games - like when you meet a co-worker you just get along with naturally. Jokes, fun, and games - we talk the same way so it's easy to understand the sly comments we make to each other.  I LOVE a man with a similar sense of humor and we don't need to explain any jokes to each other.  Besides, the 3 times I've needed help this month, he's been on point - stopping work to help move furniture, taking the evening to work on my car, and rescuing my Saturday night from a bad date and making me the happiest girl ever.  The last event happened last night.  I'll try to sum up:

I'd gone out with a seemingly cool dude I met last week to an awesome event.  As awesome as he seemed, I spent most of the night dancing by myself and feeling neglected. Not being the patient and hopeful girl I'd always aspired to be, I called said love interest to whine about the date being a bust.  He promised to pick me up where S.A.(Seemingly Awesome) had dropped the ball and would meet me at home when he dropped me off.  10 minutes after S.A. dropped me, S.L.I. picked me up, took me to shoot pool and bought me more drinks. He is a reformed thug, thick and pretty - so smooth, it takes actual thought to stop yourself from jumping on him and kissing him senseless.  But he's old and a little chubby, so it's easy to keep your focus once you've decided how it's going to be.  I hugged him like a fireman to the rescue when he showed up - he giggled excessively - and I actually thanked him for rescuing me. While we played pool, I let him hug me, caress my body and make inappropriate comments - he kept the drinks coming and paid for everything up front.  He made friends with the bartender, so I knew he was a pro.  He let me talk about everything that had happened that night and told me similar stories of his life. Afterward, he got into a little funk about a dear friend who had died taking a bullet for him (I'd also been to a funeral earlier that day so our conversation was extremely reflective) and decided to show me the places he'd hung out before his incarceration.  They were scary areas but he looked at home in the crack addict haunted areas of Atlanta.  Thugs and cops patrolled every corner and now I knew why I'd never turned down those particular streets. It was an eye opener and only when he asked "So, do you have enough for your blog?" did I realize how much he thought of me.  He giggled, held my hand, and he drove me home.
On the street where I live, we chatted more about his life and mine, how different and how vivid they both were with past loves and regrets.  Finally he told me that though he had an agenda he was working at, I was not in his plan but he didn't know why he kept finding himself at my street. "There are some things that just happen and there's nothing you can do about it." he said. He kissed me then and what was the worst about it, was that it was just right - it was awesome. I knew that feeling - I'd been there before. My heart set off a certified, Star Trek Enterprise, Red Alert - this was not a drill.  I told him that this was a problem and I was leaving.  He insisted on walking me to the door.  I told him he could walk me to the gate but it would be difficult for him to leave.  We talked some more at the gate about how we shouldn't/couldn't be together in any scenario and then I asked him to take me to Hawaii. (it was really late ya'll, and I had an exorbitant amount of alcohol to drink in one night).  He figured up the cost and decided he would.  He also decided I needed a new car and asked me what I wanted.  It took us both by surprise, the happiness we felt when we imagined being together.  He told me to go in the house even tho he had to use the restroom.  I told him to come in the use it instead of "watering the bushes".  He stopped and showed himself to be the irresistable gentleman that had my heart.  "No, this is difficult.  You go on in. If I come in, I won't want to leave and I should leave.  You go home now." He shook his head in disbelief of his own words and backed up with a smile.

Ok - that's a lot of details but they made an impact.  I kissed him, wished him goodnight, and went home.  When I got in the house, I took off my shoes, put my purse down, and patted my dogs.  I made my way down the hall - and it shook.  I put both hands to hold the wall still and realized in those moments that it took to stop rocking that my heart had been compromised.  Compromised.

I'm not a sucker. At least not all the time.  I don't even like 98% of the men I go out with - I just want a great experience without coming out of my own pocket and to be pampered.  This guy exceeds that and I can't measure it.  He has the potential for being very dangerous to my current course of action.

Today he called to see how I was and I asked him how he felt about last night.  He said it felt like a movie. Something so surreal he couldn't understand it.

Don't tell a reformed romantic mess like that.  I told him I felt that same but I was glad we were both adults because we can't give in to that nonsense. (His answer: "if you say so").  We talked about movies and first dates, cars and phones, work and old friends...anything but about how we felt.  I wanted to yell, "My heart is yours! Whatever you say, whereever you go!" but I didn't.  I laughed at our awkward silence, the aching heart I heard on the other end of the phone, and prayed he wouldn't come over without calling.

Yeah, I'm in love.  I just hope it wears off soon...