… it’s a new day, it’s a new life, and I’m feelin’ good.
So there’s a new boy. God, am I ever going to get to the point where I don’t call them boys? He’s 35 years old. I think that officially no longer counts as a boy.
And he’s awesome. He’s a nurse, thinking about going back to school at some point to be a naturopath. He’s ridiculously smart (my number one turn-on), more obsessive about music than I am (shared musical taste is *really* important to me), has brilliant blue eyes, a chocolate lab puppy, and our sexual chemistry is insane. I’ve seen him a couple times now (4 to be exact) and I actually really like him.
Next weekend we’re going away together. I’ve got a wedding in Vermont to go to and asked him to be my date. So we’re going to spend the weekend in a hotel, do some drinking and some dancing and some hanging out. It’ll be interesting, since we’ll be together for 48 straight hours, but I think it’ll be awesome. Talk about a chance to really get to know each other, right?
And I’m trying not to let myself get too excited. I’ve never been good at taking it slow relationship wise, but I’m going to try. It’s about time I figured out how to deal with this stuff as an adult. Now seems like the perfect opportunity.
So that’s my news. Much love, darlings.
Yay! Much love and luck to you, girlie. And you just take whatever pace you take — protecting your heart is good, but you have been a passionate little ball of fire for 30+ years, and there’s something to be said for embracing that, no? I’m sending my best wishes for smooth sailing.