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5.23.2005
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1:49 AM
a mess!
Yes, me. I'm a hot mess.
(wry smile)
Now, don't get me wrong, life is going good, and I've met some folks, well, men folks (smile), and that's all good. But this one dude...
sweet
The past two weeks was all sweet and flirty goodness on the phone and webcam. He'd call me at least twice a day, reminding me to drive safe, being supportive and caring, and in the evenings we'd chat for hours, about everything and nothing. And yes, I said webcam. Please don't wretch: We'd talk on the phone and look at each other on the webcam, all pretty G-rated. Okay, some PG-13 rated flashing to each other, but nothing all out there, me giggling like a girl, him grinning and biting his bottom lip.
thick
Then Saturday we met for dinner at Dave & Buster's. Good, clean fun, right? Some chow, some Skee-ball, we'd been bantering about who was gonna whup whose ass and all, and I was game for it. I was late, of course, and looking for him, first outside then in, he'd said he'd be wearing jeans and a white shirt with blue and green stripes; I knew he was 5'11", nicely proportioned, and cute.
I was about to go back outside when I saw this buff, thick honey walking toward me with the sweetest smile on his face and my whole body did this almost swoon-like thing. You see, I never knew what the word "thick" really meant. I mean, it's bandied about. And I never really see any real thick guys except for in the NFL. But there it was, right in front of me. Earlier that day I'd asked his weight and he told me 235: He looked like a running back, perhaps a (kinda short but still powerful) linebacker.
The boy is thick, just like I like 'em.
Lordy.
I now know what I would act like if I met Ray-Ray in person.
sprung
We hugged, sat at the booth, I then looked at his face, my God... so cute, so, so, so cute. Now, I wasn't doing bad last night, had on a soft mauve top with spaghetti straps - I'd gotten one of those "cups only" bras that stick to ya and position the girls where you want them to be with no visible means of support - and my new, great Lucky jeans, and the look on his face said... well... (chuckles) Inside I was just a mess, a puddle, and outside I was grinning and giggling and I could feel myself quivering, actually quiv-er-ing.
All I could think was that if the stars were aligned properly, I could possibly get this man naked and get naked with this man.
We held hands across the table, and every so often he'd ask for a kiss and we'd lean across and kiss, and the staff was flustered, and I kept trying to be nonchalant but it wasn't working. Ordering was ridiculous because neither of us could concentrate on the menu. Every time he'd look at me, he'd take my breath away and I'd start giggling again; my God, the humanity... I had no dignity, none. Finally, I couldn't stand it, I couldn't keep myself to myself: Rather than fidget and quiver, I asked him to sit next to me, and he did, with his thick, sweet, good-smelling self.
All night I steadied myself by clutching his arm or his thigh.
(snicker)
crazy
No Skee-ball.
Mmmmh-mmmmh-mmmmh...
I remember bits and pieces of what I said, and those I remember, I'm embarrassed about, but I don't regret. Kinda.
I believe I may have cried at one point.
Sex like that, with a sweet, thick, sexy man like that could make a girl lose her mind, for crying out loud.
And now he seems... well, not as much as he was before. I think I scared the poor man. Rather than stay over, he left. But again, he's got stuff to do and as always, so do I. Frankly, if we'd spent all night and morning together, I think I would have proposed. Had we spent all night, morning, afternoon, and this evening together, I'm sure I would've proposed.
nope, not gonna, no
You know that song "Crazy in Love" by Beyonce?
I. Am. Caught. Up. I can't stop thinking about him. And I want to fight it. I did not expect it. This is ridiculous. I've gotta stop and make some sense here.
I'm actually considering telling him we shouldn't see each other anymore. I don't think I can take it. I don't like this, don't like it.
Thank goodness, this week is a busy one. I think. If it's not, I'm gonna make it one. Distract myself with a few other folks, and my job, and a project or two around the house, perhaps finish a couple of the sweaters. Clean the patio. Clean the fridge. Clean out the closets. Plan for next year's taxes. Paint something.
[ Joanne ]
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