Back around the time of the divorce, I attended a party for my friend S’s daughter. I met a few of her friends. After the party, S told me that her friend (um, D?) thought I was cute.
Yes, we’re just like 12 year olds.
Months later, S reminded me of D and told me how he asked about me a bunch.
Last week, I got a Facebook friend request from D. He was a sweet guy and I was curious, so I accepted.
Last weekend, I got a Facebook message from D. He asked if I wanted to go get something to eat and talk sometime. Again: sweet guy + my curiosity = I accepted.
We met for lunch on Sunday. And then went for a walk at the Marina. And then went to see a movie. Not once during an 8-hour date was there ever any awkward silences.
I didn’t even feel like I was going to vomit beforehand. I mean, that’s a step up or something, right?
He typically works four days a week, but this week he had Monday off too. So he picked me up from work and took me out to lunch. I really enjoy being with him. I don’t feel like quite such a neurotic mess. I’m comfortable.
He’s taking me out to lunch again on Friday (his usual day off), and I’ll see him at our mutual friend’s house on Saturday for her son’s birthday party.
I’m really looking forward to it.
With a (non) date earlier this month, and this (which most certainly was a) date, I feel like my life is getting strange. It doesn’t quite feel like my own.
Or maybe things are finally starting to work out. They’re starting to work in my favor.
I’m enjoying my job. T and I are both exhibiting more patience than before. The anti-inflammatory has made my back pain practically non-existent. My lows aren’t quite so low. I’m working on my writing and editing. I’m keeping my demons at bay.
Everything is not sunshine and roses. At least, I tell myself that so I don’t get *too* confident about everything that is happening. I still cling to the pessimist that is a part of who I am.
But she is losing strength.