~Thursday, August 30, 2007

Friday Night

Friday night was thankfully uneventful. Scott and I walk up to the bar hand in hand only to be greeted by The Musician, who was smoking in front of the door. He lit up, "Hey!" and I waved while walking right past him.

"That was the guy I dated right before you," I told Scott.

"I don't care. Did you sleep with him?"

"Nah, I stopped seeing him for you," and I leaned up and kissed him.

My friends and I ordered a two-liter beer and devoured it as quickly as we could. During The Musicians first song, he came around my table and danced with me, banging his tambourine on my thigh. During his second song, I was too busy dancing with Scott to notice what he was doing.

The friends were polite to Scott. Largely they didn't speak to him, but there was no hostility vibe going on. I think mainly it was important for them to see us together and to see me happy and I think that was accomplished.

The band called out our table and said everyone in the bar should be more like us: drinking and dancing and having a good time. It was the general consensus of the night.

~Friday, August 24, 2007

Potential for Drama: Enormous

Tonight I'm going to The Musician's show! With Scott!

My friends and I always have a great time at The Musician's shows that we continue to go even though I'm not seeing him anymore. Only he hasn't had a show since I stopped seeing him. Nor did I ever officially stop seeing him. I never told The Musician that I started seeing someone else--I just smile and let him flirt. Except when I ran into him last week. But I waved to him and kept walking instead of stopping to chat, so I think he got the picture. But I can't wait to see his face tonight when I'm dancing with Scott to The Musician's song, muahahahah!

And the friends specifically told me to bring my "boy toy" with me, so it will be the first time we will all hang out together again.

So tonight I am bringing my boyfriend out to see the guy I was dating when I met him and we'll be with my friends who haven't yet put him in good graces. And alcohol will be involved. Awesome.

Bridget Jones was on to something

I remember reading this post from Drama Queen and being insanely green-eyed envious. She's right, that is love. I wanted that kind of love.

Last night Scott and I were sitting on my couch, eating our dinner off the single TV tray I own. While he shoveled his rice with a spoon, I insisted on using a fork which was working in the dog's favor. She was happily settled between my feet and nosing the carpet where most of my dinner ended up.

I sighed, "Man, my food-to-mouth ratio is just not happening tonight."

Scott put his head down, closed his eyes, and laughed silently. Then he composed himself and looked at me, "I love you."

I brushed more rice off my pants to the dog's delight, thought of DQ's pizza-stained PJs, and smiled.

~Thursday, August 23, 2007


I pushed down the handle and my apartment door swung open. Still wearing my oversized tortoise-shell sunglasses, I squeezed inside with my bags over my shoulder.


I knew Scott was waiting for me inside my apartment, so I was stunned when there was no response.


Seriously, my loft isn't that big. And by "isn't that big" I mean "from the bedroom you can hear the ice maker in the freezer drop ice."

I huffed, "Really?"

My balcony door creaked and I saw Scott flip a cigarette over the side as he walked in, "Hey!" He ran towards me and kissed me while he pulled my bags off my shoulder and set them on the slate tile. My sunglasses fell off my head as I jumped up and wrapped my legs around his waist. This was the greeting I wanted.

After I was already at the beach, I told Scott it was a shame he couldn't come up for a few days. He got so excited over the invite he immediately took two days off of work to drive the 250 miles (400 km) to see me. Only an hour and a half into his ride, his motorcycle broke down and he never made it. We were both so bummed that I cut my vacation short by a day and came home to spend it with him before I had to go back to work.

He kissed me all over my face and neck and embraced me, running his hands all around my back and sides, "I missed you, baby." He had his shit-eating grin, the one that M-Joy described as the "smile that would melt the coldest heart if it wanted to." I climbed off of him and he held my face with both of his hands, "Sarah, I love you."

I gasped. Since the initial and the, uh, recommenced I love you, we hadn't said it again. I was okay with it. I saw it as the release of our feelings--we acknowledged how we felt, but I don't think either one of us was ready to handle it yet.

"That's the first time you've said it."

"It took you going away for a week. I was miserable without you. I would come home from work and just go to bed and sleep because then it would be the next day and I would be one more day closer to seeing you again.

"You want to know something?" he whispered to my face. "You're a milestone for me. I didn't think I could ever feel this way again. I didn't think I could ever even be in this situation again. I hoped and I prayed for you."

I thought back to when I started this blog, after the ending of a poor excuse of a relationship, and I remember feeling so overwhelmed about starting over. Finding someone to date seemed improbable. Finding someone to love me was already impossible. When I envisioned the future, I never saw me sharing it with someone else. I don't know if I ever have. I've always felt different in that respect. Even when I was a preteen, I always felt that love was always going to be outside of my reach. I never thought I would be here, with this man who is nothing like I've ever dated before. I understood how he felt.

Then I thought of all the men I went through to get here and suddenly I was angry. All the shit they put me through and--worse--everything I put up with. Nick rejecting me, Andy admitting to using me, Adam disappearing after I slept with him, Jack being an all around doucheface, Conor's antics, and Christopher, well, just being Christopher. I got so angry that I balled up my fist and pounded on Scott's chest, "You can't fuck around with me. I cannot go through what I've been through again! I will not! I won't! I need a nice guy!"

He grabbed my fist and held it away from both of us. "What's happened in the past, stays in the past. It's not going to be like that anymore," he crooned. "You have to forgive and move on. All we have is the present. And, if we're lucky, the future.

"You perpetually look skeptical. See, you're giving me that sideways glance right now. You have to trust me, Sarah. You have to trust me."

With possession of my own hand again, I smoothed his plain white t-shirt over his chest where I had ineffectually beat on him. "I do," I mumbled, not meeting his stare.

"Now I'm going to look you in the eyes and you're going to look at me back and you're going to tell me you love me."

I lifted my brow and saw his brown eyes looking at me with that same hopeful earnest he did when he said he confessed he did love me. As they always have since the first time we met, his eyes steadied me and my worries drifted away. I do love him and I told him as much. I began to kiss him, "This is me jumping."

"Go ahead, baby. I'm here to catch you."

P.S. I think it's appropriate that He Loves Me Not turns two today.

~Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Yours and Mine

Your beach probably looks something like this:

My beach looks something more like this:

Wild horses included

Your trees probably look something like this:

My trees look something more like this:

Spanish Moss included

Your beach house probably looks something like this:

My beach house looks something more like this:

Blue ceilings to keep the ghosts away included

Heading to the beach for a week. The Lowcountry is calling me.

~Monday, August 13, 2007


Saturday I went to lunch with the girls in my group of friends. I was tired of everything not being said. The group hadn't been hanging out much lately and Scott had been there for me when my friends hadn't--I could feel my loyalties switching and I wanted to just clear everything up so we could all be happy again.

"Who knew summer would kill us?" chewed D. "Everyone took their vacations and we just haven't been able to get realigned since."

I was glad that when I asked for the lunch, everyone immediately agreed. At the table we realized that we have never had lunch before, we have dinners and--more frequently--happy hour drinks. They also already knew the reasons I wanted to have lunch and they readily came. They were willing to listen.

They asked questions about Scott's and my fight. I never had an opportunity to explain anything about that night since everyone had a chance to calm down. As soon as I retold the story, relief immediately washed over Harvey's face, "Good. That's what I wanted to hear."

Each girl took a turn asking different questions about him--they never even got to know him before cutting him off. They reminded me of how parents behave, which makes me smile.

"How long was he single before you?"

"Fourteen months."

"Does he want to get married?"

"He does. He talks about it a lot."

"Are you ready to settle?"

"Meh, I don't know."

Harvey laughed, "I think that's as close to a 'yes' we'll ever get out of you!"

"I love you guys and I love him. You're my two favorite parts of my life," I said. "I want to bring those parts together."

"Okay," they smiled. My girlfriends lifted the Scott ban with the understanding that things will be awkward when I bring him out again. I know. Scott knows.

But we're all willing to try again.

~Friday, August 10, 2007

Meet and Greet

"And how do you know M-Joy again?" he asked me.

"Uh, the city."

You know her from the city."



"Okay, well I haven't actually met her yet," I danced from side to side, "But I talk to her all day long on... message boards! Yes, message boards!"

"Oh, okay!"

I can't believe he bought it.

So it was on, we were meeting M-Joy at a local bar for her birthday. Besides my joy in meeting other people who blog, the friend thing has not been resolved at all in my life. Matter of fact, it was as worse as ever. I missed G's last-minute birthday plans because it was already planned that Scott was meeting my parents that night. My e-mail, MySpace message, and phone call all went unreturned. Passive aggressive comments have been spread all over my MySpace board. Scott is still banned from all events involving the friends. Meeting new people seemed like a good idea as any right about now.

Picking someone out in a bar based on a photograph is actually not as hard as it sounds. I greeted M-Joy with a hug and met C (!). We giggled as we spoke in our secret blog code the boys didn't understand. We basically introduced Scott to C and said, "C used to own a motorcycle. Scott sells motorbikes. Go!"

We headed upstairs to the actual venue and gossiped some more while swaying to the music. The opening band was really good--one of the most enjoyable opening acts I've ever seen.

Then Scott's face turns white and he starts wobbling.

He hadn't been to work for a few days because of some horrible virus. I had affectionately started calling him Poops. Poops mumbled something about me taking him to the car and leaving him there while I dance with M-Joy, but leaving your sick and throwing-up boyfriend in the car while you drink in a bar sounded like a recipe for AA if I ever heard one. So we dashed out the door, just quick enough for him to get sick on the sidewalk, and the gas station bushes, and the parking lot when we finally got there. And again outside the door to my apartment.

I'm going to leave out the details of the rest of my night, but it does involve the sentence, "Buying a machine-washable couch cover was the best decision I ever made."

But meeting M-Joy was a blast and I'm so happy I got to celebrate her birthday with her! She writes about it here.

~Wednesday, August 08, 2007

About Last Night

Scott called me four times the next day when I was at work. "It's his way making up for last night," thought N.

Scott only brought it up once:

"Are you okay about last night?"

"Yup." No emotion, baby. Get used to it.

"I'm sorry that I left like that. I just needed some me time."

"I don't care," I shrugged.

"So that's how you're gonna play it?"

I didn't respond. I didn't think it warranted a response; it was a joke.

"Is that how you're gonna play it?" he repeated.

"It doesn't bother me you wanted to leave. I'm not your keeper."

He promptly dropped it after that.

Scott was napping on my couch when I got home from work. We were supposed to meet my neighbor by the pool and daylight was burning. I shook him awake.

He opened his eyes and I saw Scott, not the guy who was in my apartment last night. "Hey baby, how was your day?"

"It was good." I felt the urge to run my hands through his hair like I always do, but I resisted. Instead I got up and walked to the dryer which I knew was drying the same load of laundry for no less than the third time. I don't want to tell him what to do, but I really wish he would let me assume laundry duty. Only drying a load once is just so energy efficient, and it doesn't rake up my power bill.

I opened the dryer door and the clothes were so hot, they scorched my hands. "Ow, ow, ow!" I grunted while I pulled an armful out while searching for my bikini. I turned around to drop the armful on the couch, but he was still laying there. I grinned devilishly and dropped the hot clothes on him. And then I went back to the dryer and took out all of the clothing from the largest load ever and covered up his entire body in hot, clean laundry. He just watched me and smiled, a twinkle in his eyes when I dropped the last handful of thongs on his face.

I then surfed through the searing clothes until I found each piece of my bathing suit and walked into my bedroom to change. Scott brushed the laundry off of him and followed me into the bedroom, hugging me down to my mattress.

"I have to tell you something," he said soberly. "This isn't working. I think I need to just be on my own."

"Okay," I nodded. With all the practice I had with not showing him anything, it was pretty easy to agree.

He held my eyes for another second and then shook me, "Ah! I'm just kidding!"

I let out a primal scream, planted my foot on his chest, and then shoved him off my bed. It should be mentioned that I have a really tall bed that requires a running start to get on, so when Scott landed back-first on the floor with a resounding thud, the air got knocked out of him.

I jumped off the bed, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he laughed.

"Well I don't regret doing that."

"Yeah, I guess I deserved it," he said, scratching his head and getting up. He leaned me back on the bed, "I do want to talk about last night though."

I turned my head to the side, my whole demeanor changing, "I don't want to talk about it."

"I have something I want to say."

"I don't want to talk about it!"

He cupped my face and turned it back to him, "I think about you, Sarah. I think about you a lot. More than I probably should. I care about you. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you!" he smiled. "Do you love me?"

"Uh huh."

"Do you love me?"


"Do you love me?"

"Oh you want me to say it?" I asked. He nodded. "I love you," I croaked. The words still don't come easily and I have yet to say it without sounding like an emphysema patient. He kissed me and kissed me and kissed me.

He was so happy and so pleased with himself, yet I couldn't share his enthusiasm. "What happened yesterday?"

"I just needed some time to think. Stupid guy stuff."

"Do you remember Sunday?"

"I do," he stopped when he saw I wasn't elated. "What's wrong?"

"I've been in a crap-assed mood all day and I can't just switch gears." It was mainly the truth. I spent last night watching particularly painful Grey's Anatomy episodes and nine hours at work fixating on removing my emotional attachment. I can't just detach myself and then be all Oops! False alarm! Some damage was done Monday night. It can be repaired, but it's going to take weeks, not an I love you. As much as it was wanted.

"You were in a bad mood because of me?" he asked. His eyes lost a bit of the shimmer they had since I came home. Now they reflected concern and a little regret. I nodded. "I want to see where this goes, Sarah. I'm not going anywhere. Are you in?"

"I just don't want it to be a roller coaster." High on Sunday, down on Monday, plateauing on Tuesday...

"I don't either."

His waning happiness affected me. I feel like everything is my fault. Monday night wouldn't have happened if I didn't say anything, and he would still be happy now if I could just share his enthusiasm. I fell in love with his carefree jubilation. When I took him up to school and introduced him to my college buddies, all he wanted to do was dance with me, even if we were the only people in the bar shaking it. He didn't stop dancing for anything, not even when the crowd got thicker and he began to regularly bump into people. I envied that gaiety. I want to be more like that. And I hate that I'm the cause of it diminishing from him in this moment.

I leaned up and kissed him and forced a smile, "I'm in."

~Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Going There

I kissed his shoulder, "I love you."

"So are we going there?" He asked flatly.

"Going where?"

He waved me off with his hand while he focused on the movie.

"Going where?" I repeated.

"That's a really big deal for me to say it," he said, not taking his eyes off the TV.

I was puzzled and a little taken aback. "I didn't say it so I could hear it," I spoke slowly.

"Most people do."

"I just felt like saying it."

"Well it is my fist time hearing it," he paused while my mouth hung open in shock. "What the hell, I love you too!"

"WHAT?!" The looks, the kissing, the tears: I didn't fabricate them. "What about yesterday?"

"You mean yesterday when I had that killer headache so I drank it away?"

"You don't remember yesterday?"

"You know I have a really bad memory." He paused, "Are you okay?"


"Do you want me to leave?"


"I was really drunk yesterday."

"Okay." I was doing my best to hide the sheer horror I was feeling. Oh. my. god. He. doesn't. remember. I must look like one fucking idiot.

"Tell me what happened."

Having already written about it, I was able to recall the story. Telling it, however, proved difficult and it was delivered with many sideways glances.

"You know why I cried."

I nodded. I did. It was over his son, but it stung to have it shoved in my face that none of this was about me anymore.

"Even if you really don't remember, I'm having a hard time with why your reactions are so different," I admitted. "Yesterday you were so happy, and now you're scolding me. Did you mean it yesterday and not today? Do you mean it today and not yesterday? Were you faking yesterday? Are you faking now?"

"I wouldn't say it unless I mean it."

This time I had no problem studying his eyes; I had already gotten everything off my chest yesterday. He stared back at me, unblinking, and we were gauging each other's reactions. I had no idea where the strength came from, but I wanted answers and he was skirting around them.

"Fine. Well you just said it. Did you mean it?"

He was uncomfortable with my direct questioning and paused, "Yes," he spoke quietly as if he was unsure of himself. "I thought we were going to take things slowly," he said more decisively.

I didn't really have an answer for that. The past week was spent declaring love in secret code only to have it said aloud and then taken back. He was ruining my memory of yesterday. He was taking it away from me.

"I can't believe you don't remember."

"You know I'm losing my memory. Ask my mother," as it always does when he's getting upset, Scott's voice began to rise in both volume and pitch.

"I'm just so embarrassed--"

"You shouldn't be! I have to leave!" Scott jumped up from the couch and began putting his shoes on. I was not going to let him have anything else; he already took my memory of yesterday. I kept my place on the floor and turned my focus on the TV and my glass of wine while he hurriedly got dressed.

When he didn't see me react, Scott came to my spot on the floor and kissed me, "You know why I have to leave."

I did. But I didn't. In any case, I wasn't going to fight it. After the one fight we had, hell if I was ever going to try and stop him again. "I know."

Again with no reaction out of me, Scott crossed the room and came back to me and kissed me. This time he was a little more tender, "I just need some time to myself."

"Okay." Again, he got nothing out of me.

He walked out the door and I never shed a tear. He wasn't going to get a thing out of me ever again.

~Monday, August 06, 2007

It was time

Don't be afraid to say those words you long to hear yourself
I might feel the same, but I'm not quite as bold
--Soul Miner's Daughter, "3 Stones"

"What are you thinking?"

Scott's been asking me that a lot lately. Every time he asks it, the answer is invariably I love you and I think he knew it. Since the beer-can love declaration, Scott has worked it in several more times. He was speaking in a deep monster voice that creeped me out and he told me in the monster voice that he loved me. Once again, I just laughed harder. And then when we were in bed together, he stopped and said, "This is me making love to you. I'm making love to you." That was the closest I came to telling him, but I just didn't want the first time to be during sex. Instead I did something that I never ever do--I looked at him in the eyes.

A guy asked me once why I never look at him while we had sex. I gave my flippant response, "I never look in the eyes, that's how you go falling in love." It was time to look at Scott in the eyes.

Scott nudged me again, "What are you thinking?" I had woken up from a nap on the couch and he climbed on top of me to tell me about a phone call with his best friend. I turned my head away from Scott and stared at the back of the couch.


"Come on, tell me."

I broke eye-contact with the couch and glanced at Scott. His face was full of hopeful earnest. I looked away from his face and bore a hole in his shoulder. I opened my mouth to say I love you, but no sound came out; I only mouthed them.

"Don't be scared. Tell me." I don't know if he saw me form the words. I don't know if he knew it was what I wanted to say.

I looked at his face again and tried to hold it as long as I could, "I love you." It was still very breathy and half-choked.

Scott's entire face lit up. I've never seen him look so happy. "Ah!" he inhaled.

It was all I could stand. I turned my face away from him and buried it against the back of the couch and began to cry; it was such a release to finally tell him that I couldn't hold anything back anymore. Scott began to laugh and cuddled me in his arms while I sobbed. He smooshed his face against my tears, "Aw baby, I love you too. I love you." I barely heard him over my crying. He continued to laugh, "It's okay, people fall in love all the time."

After a few more moments I stopped crying to look at him again. He gazed back intently and caressed my face. "Did you know?" I asked meekly.

"I knew."

"It's why I've been so quiet all weekend. If I opened my mouth, the words were going to come tumbling out, so I just couldn't open my mouth. I couldn't say anything at all."

"I know," he whispered.

"Well I'm glad you knew even if I couldn't tell you."

"Did you know?"

"I knew," I smiled. "Why didn't you just come out and say it?"

"Past experience. I told myself I couldn't be the first one to say it again. Because last time--" It was Scott's turn as he dug his face in my shoulder and let out a few quick tears.

Red-faced, he leaned back and smiled at me. I reached up and stroked his cheek, "I love you," but once again I couldn't force the sound.

He mimicked me, just mouthing the words to me as well.

~Friday, August 03, 2007

Attempt #2

Another failed attempt at trying to tell my mom about Scott and he was becoming impatient. To quote him, "That's fucking bullshit." I was on the phone with her and the conversation just wasn't going anywhere where I could introduce him. He had even gone so far as to talk to me while I was on the phone with her so she could hear his male presence in my apartment.

Now we were sitting by my pool after work with a cooler full of beer and my pink cellphone in hand. "Will you just call her and tell her?"

"I have to. If she ever found out that my father is meeting you before she even knew you existed, her feelings would be so hurt." My father called minutes ago to expressly invite Scott and me to dinner Saturday night. I begged off the phone without responding and told Scott about the invite. Scott agreed to go and it caught me off guard. I guess it made sense seeing as how I'm meeting his parents the next day.

I chewed on my lip, "I feel like I missed my window to tell her and now it's awkwardly late."

"It is," he helped.

I groaned and dialed her number. Once again, the conversation wasn't going anywhere where I had an in. I had to force one.

"What are you doing for dinner?" she asked.

"I don't know, I'm sure Scott will cook something," I cringed.

"Who's Scott?"

"This guy I've been seeing for a little while."

My mother, having not heard me mention a boy's name in two years, got extraordinarily excited. "Oh!" she breathed, "Is he there now?"


"Well let me get off the phone with you, then. You have a nice time. Bye!"

That was a whole lot easier than I thought it was going to be. I jumped in the pool, "Baby, I did it!"

"Wait. Your mom didn't know you two are seeing each other?" asked my neighbor.

Scott leaned over my empty lounge chair, "I know, right?"

I swam to the steps. "How long have you been seeing each other?" he asked.

Scott looked at me, his face scrunched up. He didn't know. I did because I opened a calendar up the previous day after I love you to do the math. But if he didn't know, I wasn't going to admit it, "I don't know, a couple of months?"

"That's it?" said my neighbor, shocked. "But you guys act like you're practically married!"

"Blech," I made the obligatory face. I got up out of the pool and wrapped my towel around me. Scott got up to go to the bathroom.

"So has he told you he loves you yet?" my neighbor pried.

"No," I ended kind of high pitched, sounding like "noooooooo?" I mean, he hasn't expressly told me.

"It's coming," he offered. "Will you be the first to say it?"

"Hell no!" I laughed.

"It's coming," he repeated. "It's coming soon."


Scott pulled a beer out of the fridge and returned to the couch. He then lifted my skirt and thrusted the cold can against my thigh.

"Be nice to me! You like me!" I yelped.

"I love you and I am nice to you," he retorted.

So... the second time and it can't be an accident. Once again I glossed over it by extending my giggle. If he came out and said it, I would respond, but I don't know how to handle him slipping it in midsentence.

Mike told me that with relationship stuff, I need to have just one or two confidants. Unwittingly, that advice made him one. This morning I shot my friend an e-mail about the incidents.

He responded:

First of all, you are in the big leagues now, so this "pretending it didn't happen" thing has to go. Obviously, if he is inviting you to meet his family, he thinks the world of you. That rite of passage means, "she's in my life. Please include her if you include me in something. You will be seeing a lot more of her, and I want you to be comfortable". So, he's playing to win. It sounds like your shields are still up on this whole relationship thing. I think you might need to have another sit down with him, and really discuss how you feel about things, and where you want to be in your life. And how that when you heard him say "the phrase that pays" (and in his case, it paid well), you really want him to know how seriously you take that. If you are still doing this "pretend it didn't happen" thing, that tells me that maybe you aren't really sure where he is at emotionally, and you aren't really too sure of how you feel about things either. This is one of those situations that you really have to be engaged emotionally, or it isn’t going to work. Think of driving a car. You get on the road, you line up the steering wheel so that the car is going straight, you put on the cruise control and you take a nap. Relationships are the same way. It doesn't work if you try this cruise control thing. There are many minuscule imperfections in any road, and you need your hands on the wheel so you know where you are going, or eventually your relationship is going to go off a cliff.

And he put me in my place.

I do wonder how often Scott has said it to other women. I guess it doesn't matter as long as his feelings for me are genuine. But if he's said it flippantly in the past, it could indicate that he's not as serious as I am about the "phrase that pays."

And where do I stand? I'm not entirely sure. I've written about my stance on love before:
What chance is there for me, someone who is wandering through life, not really feeling anything for anybody? I'm not even sure I believe in love. I've never been around it: my parents divorced when I was very young and I don't remember anything but them fighting, my mother remarried someone she didn't love just to give us a father figure, my father remarried his mistress and the first time he even told me he loved her was last month... and they've been married 17 years. I've never even had a roommate who was in a relationship. I've never seen it: love in action. The only things I know of love I've learned from sitcoms and movies, and let's face it, that isn't love.

I'm not sure what love is and what it's supposed to feel like. I've read before that a lot of people confuse love with infatuation. That people who think they're in love are actually heady on whatever chemicals are released when they're in lust. And the lust wears off around the three month mark, these couples who thought they were going to make it, didn't.

I've actually declared my love twice, but in hindsight, I think I only meant it once. The second relationship just seemed too convenient. I've been thinking back to the one time I did mean it and what that felt like. Scott reminds me a lot of that guy. How I felt with my first love is very similar to how I feel now.

I find myself wanting to say it. When he called me during his lunch break today, I opened my mouth to tell him, but then paused and closed it again. He's slipping it in other conversations; I would just be putting it out there. Do I really mean it, or am I just caught up with him saying it? Does he mean it?

Does he realize what he's doing to me?

~Thursday, August 02, 2007

And then he said it

I love you, of course I want to have sex with you.

We were standing in my kitchen, dinner not quite made. He wanted to put off eating for just a little while longer and I asked if he was sure.

He stated it so simply and matter of factly that I'm not positive he meant to say it. I think it may have just slipped out. Except in that split second I studied him and his eyes didn't widen; he remained so damn calm.

So I did what I always do: I ignored it and pretended it didn't happen. I could have stopped and asked him to repeat himself, but I didn't want him to feel embarrassed. Besides, he was asking for sex so clearly it didn't count.

Most importantly though, I didn't want to give him the opportunity to take it back.

~Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Mind the Gap

Scott is missing a tooth--a molar on his upper left side. Consequently, he never truly grins. For photographs he's perfected a closed-lip smirk. Catch him off guard and he may give you a crooked smile, just enough to see the tips of his teeth.

Lately I've been seeing the missing molar. It's because we've been laughing. The throw your head back and laugh until your stomach hurts and you have a stitch in your side laughs. Neither of us has been saying anything particularly funny, but rather I think it's the joys of simply being together. A gentle jab aimed and then we're wrestling on the floor and blowing raspberries on each other's unveiled flesh. Wayward spoons of sauce while we're cooking. Shower Mohawks.

As much as I'm a stickler for pearly teeth, I don't mind seeing the gap in the corner of his mouth. The exposed fissure means he's happy. He's so content that he can't remember to hide his flaws. He's simply existing.

Seeing the gap is making me fall for him.


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