Part 3 of the story …

I finally heard from him today, and he said he’s not interested. Honestly, and I’m really not just saying this … I am absolutely ok with this. It was the waiting that was killing me, the not-knowing.

Even knowing that I’m never going to see him again doesn’t feel bad. Because of him I allowed my heart to open again and I am open to the possibility of love.

And to think all this happened over the course of one short week. Ah, the beautiful craziness of life.

In other news, did you guys hear that Willie Nelson cut his hair? For me this means that one of my ultimate sex symbols has lost some of his power, but I’ll always love him regardless …

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Part 2 of the story …

So now here’s the thing about everything that I wrote yesterday …

Even if I never hear from my lovely Scot again, I am intensely grateful to have had this experience. It’s as if I’ve been walking around like an emotional zombie for years now, without the ability or even desire to open myself up to the world’s possibilities. And for the last year it’s been even worse. I have been petrified to allow myself to feel anything. I have been unwilling to let anyone in, to allow even the vaguest possibility of loving or being loved or maintaining any sort of intense personal connection. I have loved and been loved by my friends, but anything more than that wasn’t even a glimmer in my eye.

And then I started doing all this sleeping around, allowing myself to feel something that I hadn’t for a long time … sexual desire and want. And then, as I let those feelings exist in me, I began to realize that I actually did want something more, not simply some random fuck with some random guy who I never wanted to see again. I genuinely wanted an emotional connection. And as soon as I opened myself up to that, basically the very instant that I allowed myself to admit that desire, my beautiful Scot showed up in my life.

I found faith when I left J, which is something I haven’t talked about too much. I found faith in the fact that I had made the right decision. And soon that faith spread its tendrils into every aspect of my life.

So now, as I ride this emotional rollercoaster of feeling more alive than I’ve felt in years, and feeling sad at the same time that I may never see this beautiful man again, I am finding that faith again. I have faith that whatever happens, this man came into my life for a reason. Even if it’s only to have made me feel something again, for the first time in far too long, even if it isn’t that he is the great love of my life, even if all we ever share is one ridiculously spectacular evening together … everything in the universe lined up to bring us together. There was obviously a point to this experience, and whatever that point is, I am exceedingly grateful for it.

The point is this: I hope like hell I hear from him because I think there could be a fantastically wonderful romance in store for us, but if I don’t my heart won’t be broken. It will have, instead, been opened again.

Namaste, my lovelies.

Part 1 of the story …

I’m sitting down to write, but what I might end up doing is a lot of copying and pasting from emails that I wrote today.

Back story first.

About a month ago I joined a dating website. You know that, right? Well, I’ve been doing a lot of dating … although to be honest it’s more been sleeping around than anything else. I went out on one date with a guy who I thought could actually be boyfriend material, but he told me afterwards that he has a policy to not date anyone who’s been divorced for less than a year. Entirely reasonable, and I’m not even mad at him. Everyone else was either someone I wasn’t even vaguely interested in or someone who I was only interested in sexually. There was nothing particularly promising.

So on Sunday Darwin and I had a babysitting job for his best friend, LuLu, whose mother was in labor. We arrived at 5:30am and spent all day there. Darwin and LuLu kept each other entertained all day long, without my even needing to spend too much time paying attention to them. They watched movies and played in a water table and build a house out of straw and chased each other around screaming and acting like crazy little people (which is exactly what they are). But because I had so much free time, I spent a lot of the day hanging out on the dating site. At some point in the afternoon I came across a profile that I was interested in and immediately sent the guy a message.

To make a long story short, we emailed back and forth for a while and then I gave him my phone number. He called, we talked for about 45 minutes, and then spent around 5 hours texting back and forth. It was amazing. We liked the same things, he wants to have kids, and the sexual chemistry was definitely there over the phone. Even when we started listing off our faults neither one of us was phased in the slightest. It was incredible. We arranged to meet up the next evening for our first date.

Well, it was quite possibly the most amazing date of all time. It’s not just that the chemistry was there, but that if my two very best friends in the world got together and designed a man for me, this would be him. He’s Scottish (like from Scotland … sexiest accent ever … I’ve always thought so), is a movie freak, a photographer, a fucking high school history teacher who went to the school I’m going to right now, who is sexy as hell and really, really seemed to like me. We had spectacular sex, which was followed by several hours of discussions and kissing and feeling like the two of us were meant for each other. It was, in a very simplistic word, magic.

But that was two days ago, Monday evening, and I haven’t heard from him since he left my house on Tuesday morning. I don’t know if this is a bad thing or not, because I have no idea what the rules of dating even are. But I have texted him and called at this point, and still no word.

Now, keep in mind one very important thing … this is prom week at his school, and he’s ultra involved in everything that happens at the school, so he’s ridiculously busy. But still, couldn’t he have found a minute to call or text?

So, am I being blow off? Is he as freaked out by the intensity of our evening together as I am, and is just dealing with it in a different way? Is he actually just too busy?

I suppose only time will tell …