Many firsts.

I went to bed at 2am Friday (Saturday morning) and woke at 3am. I’ve never been a great sleeper, often waking and lying there thinking for long periods of time in the darkness. Being in a relationship has obviously not helped. I did get a few more hours of sleep that night, but I wished I could wake up feeling refreshed and excited instead of exhausted and anxious. The knot in my stomach seems to have taken up permanent residence and I’m having trouble eating. And believe me, I really like food and enjoy eating. I’m definitely not the kind of girl who’d pick at her food on a date, and it’s extremely odd to feel like my body just can’t chew and swallow. My anxiety does not normally manifest itself in such a physical way. Ironically, I’d just gotten back down to my goal weight, and a few days of little food has put me even below that. So silly.

So this was my state of being on Saturday. I tried to make myself to relax and sleep late, unsuccessfully. B was doing a walk fundraiser that morning in a neighboring city, and we’d decided that he would come over sometime in the afternoon, but didn’t set a time. My friend had recently joined OKC and was to have her first coffee date that day. I was excited for her and looking forward to hearing all about it. She called me at 10am, sick and miserable, and told me she’d had to cancel. I felt bad for her, and we both hoped that the guy would take her offer to reschedule at face value and not as a brush off. I got to tell her all about the previous night with B.

Then I finally dragged myself up and out to the farmers market, where my peach guy commented that I was late. By the time I got back home, it was already after noon. I tried eating and failed, gave up, got in the shower. I had just climbed out when my cell phone rang. It was B, who was right outside. I told him I needed five minutes, as I was standing there still dripping wet (didn’t tell him that). Very odd, to be rushing to get dressed, knowing that he was a few yards away, on the other side of the door. I put on capris and his blue button up, which was ridiculously large and more comical than sexy. Of course when I opened the door he knew I’d just gotten out of the shower.

We sat on the couch and he put his arm around me, and we talked about our mornings and how tired we still were. And I took a deep breath. I had a plan. A plan I’d been contemplating all week, a plan I could visualize more easily after finally being kissed the night before. I invited him to my room. Everything was set. Bed was made, fan was on low, enough natural light came in that we weren’t in darkness with the lights off, and Lenny and Sergei Vasilevich had been banished (they didn’t need to see this).

We stretched out and talked and held hands and he pulled me close. I love hanging out on my bed. It’s the first queen sized bed I’ve owned, and the first bed I picked out and paid for myself. And you see, my entire body was fully supported. There was nowhere to fall, and it was much more comfortable and intimate than the couch. He held me, he picked a book off the stacks on my night table and read to me. When he pulled me closer I said, “I have guidelines.” It was really only one guideline: anything above the belt was fair game; below the belt was off limits.

Two months ago I wrote, “Will I ever be comfortable? Can I be?” The answer, amazingly, is yes. I want to emphasize how real this question was to me. I’d read others’ dating blogs, and I truly couldn’t fathom how someone could go from not having kissed anyone to making out and having sex in such a short time. How was it possible? Surely, they must just have something I don’t. I think that a full two months spending time together strictly as friends was exactly what I needed.

I was more prepared for the kissing this time, more able to ignore the squelchy noises and the oddness of it all. More able to enjoy it. I’m really glad that B is uninhibited and enthusiastic. Because I want to be able to be that way, too. Just as I’ve always imagined, I loved feeling the full weight of his body on mine, and I loved his hands moving over my stomach and hips. I said, “Do you think it’s time I give you back your shirt?” and I unbuttoned the top button. (Eeek!) And then I undid the rest of the buttons, and there I was, bared from the waist up. And it wasn’t scary or embarrassing at all. It felt like a little miracle. B held his hand in the air above me and asked if I wanted to guide him. “No,” I said. “I trust you.” Eventually his shirt came off too and we were skin to skin.

The hours I spent in my room with B were the only hours of the whole day when my stomach wasn’t in knots. I let him do whatever he wanted, wanting to know what he would do, how it would feel, and how it would affect me. I loved lying next to him and watching him trail his fingers up and down my torso. He checked in with me (Is this below the belt?), we joked, we laughed. He asked if I was ever going to kiss him. “Not yet,” I said, still shy to initiate. “Give me some time. Maybe I’ll have to start like this.” I picked up his hand and kissed it. “Just like Gene Kelly.” Of course the dialogue in the film when Gene is kissing his way up the woman’s arm is “I love you I love you I love you,” so I didn’t say that part. A couple times he said, “I don’t know what you like.” My answer? “I don’t know either.” I guess we’ll find out.

So how were things below the belt? There was a moment when I felt some stirrings. I know it’ll take me a while to relax completely and really get into it. But it’s amazing to feel like sex is finally a real possibility for me.


And then he kissed me.

Friday B came over to watch the Opening Ceremonies with me. In our email exchanges, he seemed unsure about whether or not I wanted him to kiss me, so I made it clear that I did. Great. Scheduling my first kiss since I was thirteen–I hadn’t intended to do that. All week I knew that we were going to kiss the next time we saw each other. All week I kept thinking, on Friday, I will be kissed. It was not a very restful week. I’m exhausted and my stomach is still one big knot.

When I answered the door Friday night, he was standing there in a blue button up shirt, a covered casserole dish in his hands. To my pleasure, I realized I thought he looked (and smelled) quite nice. Like, sexy, attractive nice. All of those chemicals in my brain must be working just fine. He came inside and I positioned myself by the doorway to the kitchen. “Put that down,” I said. “I’m going to hug you.” And I did, awkwardly, with both arms, putting one hand on the wall to reestablish my balance when the hug was over. It was one of those short person/tall person things where one of my arms was around his waist and the other was on his shoulder, and as we hugged, I said, “See, I can do this, it’s okay.”  So, first hugging practice session over–I initiated contact, followed through, survived. This was after sleepless nights, planning exactly where I would stand, etc. The whole thing is ridiculous, the way I build things up and stress over them.

I’d realized even though on Monday we had agreed, we are, in fact dating, I didn’t know if we had the same definition of the word. So I asked him about it. “Do I use the term ‘boyfriend’ now, or are we not there yet?” He said he thought we were and didn’t I? I said yes and that I just wanted to be sure we were on the same page. It was really important to me that these things were clear before I told anyone in my family. I wanted to be ready to withstand the onslaught of questions and teasing that would come. So yes, I have a boyfriend.

I need to not write a book about this. We enjoyed the Opening Ceremonies. B kept his arm around me, caressing my shoulder, running his fingers up and down my arm. I managed to  take his hand, hold it in both of mine, trail my fingers along his wrist. Just get used to touching him. The broadcast ended at midnight and I turned the tv off. Interestingly, I hadn’t been stressing about the kiss all evening; I’d just been having a nice night. But now it was time. It was time for me to be twelve again. I couldn’t look at him. I admitted that it was awkward and scary. He asked if we should just hug so we didn’t have to make eye contact. And so I leaned myself across him, my head over his heart, right hand reaching around his shoulder. I tried to breathe and relax, and he held me and and smoothed his hands over my back. “Still freaking out?” he asked. “Yeah, pretty much,” I said, not moving.

Eventually I sat up, still unable to look at him without immediately breaking eye contact. Inside I was thinking, ‘Please just kiss me. This is so beyond awkward and I can’t fix it.’ Somehow, finally, he did. And it was not at all what I expected. I thought he’d start with something simple. But he really, really kissed me. I’ve always thought kissing was a strange thing. Lips and mouths, saliva, tongues, stubble in this case. Weird. Of course I was thinking the whole time, rather than being swept away. Trying to make sure I kissed back, not sure how long this thing was going to go on, not sure if I liked it. Meanwhile, B was wrapping his arms around me, running his hand over my stomach and up my side, caressing my hip. That part I definitely liked. Finally, I ended the kiss, just by turning my head, not pulling away.

We looked at each other and smiled, and he was adorable B again, rather than the heavy-breathing, sex-starved, passionate B I was so surprised to meet moments before. “Too much for a first kiss?” he asked. Honestly, I don’t remember how I answered.

We chatted, about my bony hips (he likes them), about his soft hands (I like them), and we decided that he would come over again on Saturday for some more Olympics. He kissed me again. My ear and my neck, too–that’s all warm breathy and tickle-y in a very nice way. I told him that I liked his blue shirt, and that if he gave it to me, I’d answer the door in it the next day. (Who, me? Yes, I said that.) Of course he gave me the shirt.

When he’d gone, I took deep breaths and mumbled, “Oh. my. goodness.” a lot. So there we have it. My first kiss(es) as an adult.


B just wrote me back. I only read a few lines before I started crying. Like, huge emotional swell that could not be contained, hot tears streaming down my face kind of crying. It was this line that did it: ‘Are you telling me then that we need a whole lot of hugging practice? Because that’s something I think I can do.’ Simple, sweet response, and it put me over the edge. Clearly, I’ve got some deep-seated emotional issues happening. I’m just so scared. And I don’t want to be. And I don’t know how not to be. I think the tears were the result of a combination of relief at an understanding, gentle response, the realization that this is really happening–there’s actually a man in my life and I’m doing this–, and the fear.

I’m really good at fear. It’s entirely possible that I have a diagnosable anxiety disorder. Every time I have to do something new, I automatically think about everything that can go wrong and try to prepare myself. Over and over things I go, trying to talk myself out of worrying, trying to assure myself I’ll be fine. I know I can do the simple things, like going somewhere new on the bus (though I still check the schedule about six times). But relationships are not simple. Physical relationships are not simple. Physical relationships involving a virgin with a disability are not simple. See how good I am at the fear?

Back to the email. God, it was just…really nice. He’s saying all the right things. He ended with, ‘You want me to be the initiator, but you be the guide.’

I mean, really, a romance novelist couldn’t have said it any better.

B and I have taken to using a (new to us) word from something we’re reading as the subject line of our email because he dislikes the overused subject ‘hey,’ which I am guilty of using. B’s word of the day? Satyriasis. He told me not to let it scare me and swore it was from a book he was reading, that he hadn’t heard of it before. I looked it up and burst out laughing. Its meaning? Uncontrollable or excessive sexual desire in a man. It’s the male equivalent of nymphomania. I’d never really realized nymphomania applies only to women. Learn something new every day.

ITNOWIT #18: Well, he knows.

Operation ITNOWIT #18

  • B’s place
  • Monday 7/23/12
  • not going to keep track of money anymore because I no longer think of it as investing in an experiment.
  • 6:30pm-11:00pm

He called me Sunday to see when I wanted to get together this week. He suggested Monday, and I agreed. We did not speak of the email.

Monday arrived and I got up and got ready for work and decided to take the bus because it was too hot to walk. Standing at the bus stop, I felt my heart pounding. I knew that I was just going to work, but it was that feeling of–Monday is underway and I can’t stop it.

Between work and leaving for B’s I wrote in my journal all the anxiety-ridden thoughts I had. I was pretty sure that by the end of the night we would have kissed, but I couldn’t imagine how it would go. Literally unimaginable.

The hours passed and I was finally outside B’s. I knocked. He opened the door and we exchanged pleasantries. I sat on the couch to remove my shoes and he sat next to me, his body turned toward me. We chatted about his adventures in 1962. (That’s the year he’s picked to follow through news events.)

Finally I said, “So are we going to talk about things?” And it felt just as awkward and silly as it did when I was twelve and thirteen. “Things?” said B, raising his eyebrows and smiling in mock innocence the way he does. And so we talked about the email, with much awkwardness and a little embarrassment, at least on my side. We established that we are, in fact, dating. We talked about how we both listed only ‘new friends’ on our OKC profiles. “Is that just what shy people do?” I asked. B answered, “Well, I wouldn’t want to date somebody who isn’t a friend.”

We inched toward talking about dating and us. B volunteered that he’s only ever seriously dated one person (for two years in college). Then, of course, he said, “And you?” I believe I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. He said, “You can pass.” I answered, “Taking a pass would pretty much be the same as answering.” Long pause. “I’ve never seriously dated anyone.” So yeah. I just told him. Without anything happening between us first. I knew that probably wasn’t the best way to go–that I should fake it and get some making out out of the way first. But I just can’t fake it. I can’t pretend I know what I’m doing. I’m basically the kind of person who just puts it all out there because I haven’t figured out how to do it any other way. He didn’t pry or act like it was a big deal, and he seemed understanding. But I’m pretty sure it changed the direction of the evening. It’s out there now. Can’t take it back.

We talked more about what my interactions with the male species have been, including a brief nod to the two other OKC guys I met. I mentioned my adolescent camp-time romance with J, and he said, “You could have just said you had a boyfriend for three years and not said that you were twelve.” I suppose that’s true. But I didn’t want to him think I’m experienced when I’m not and have to explain later.

He made dinner; we ate. (Baked bread crumb battered veggies, and pasta salad. Different and better than the 4th of July one. ;-)) Oh, he held his hands out to me to help me up off the couch. My automatic reaction to this is, ‘oh that’s okay–it’s easier if I do it myself.’ I always worry that I’ll pull too hard or that I won’t have established my balance in the standing position before my helper lets go. But I quashed my automatic response (he probably noticed that I hesitated), put my hands in his, and stood up and all was well.

Then it was time for Bringing Up Baby. (I love it. He’d never seen it.) I attempted to sit closer to the middle of the couch than usual, and B did too. And yeah, he put is arm across the back of the couch (no he didn’t yawn and stretch first). Eventually he just put his arm around me and ran his fingers up and down my (bare) shoulder. At first I put my head on his shoulder, to let him know that I was good with the contact. But, you know, I don’t watch a whole movie without changing positions. There was that whole twelve-year-old endless wondering of ‘if I move is he going to be offended?’, ‘is he watching the movie or thinking about kissing me?’ Plus it’s July and it’s hot, and I’m the kind of person who’s sweltering and sweaty when it’s 72 degrees. But at the same time, I was feeling his heart beat (pretty fast) and enjoying being close. He has really soft hands, and I don’t remember the last time someone touched me, skin to skin, in a simple affectionate way. Later he moved his arm and we held hands. When intertwined fingers got too sweaty, we left our hands lightly palm to palm, his thumb playing over mine. (And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss. Anyone?)

After the movie finished he turned the projector off and we sat in almost complete darkness and chatted a little. Cue the ‘he’s thinking about kissing me, isn’t he?’ thoughts. But even though I knew it, and I (pretty much, Ithinkso) wanted him to, I. Couldn’t. Do. Anything. Couldn’t move closer or lean in, or encourage him in any other way. I did take my glasses off as soon as the movie was over, but that was it. On the ‘mild anxiety’ to ‘completely terrifying’ continuum of fear, I’m at ‘this is really, really scary.’

That was the end of the evening. He drove me home. He took off his seatbelt when I did, but he didn’t lean toward me, and of course I was still pretty much immobilized by fear. It was really dark, and I think that’s weird. I’d like to be able to see his face–it’s not like I need anything to add to the bumping noses-type worries. I wanted to be able to say, okay, we’ve been dating (for two months!) and we’re adults, just kiss me! But of course I didn’t. If I hadn’t revealed the Big Secret, I don’t think I would have departed unkissed.

Once inside, I sat down and emailed him. I had things I wanted to say that I could only articulate clearly through writing. I explained the basics of my CP again, since the first time was two months ago and was a string of babble. I explained about giving one-armed hugs and always needing to hold onto furniture or the wall to feel steady. I worry about him trying to do something affectionate and knocking me off balance, which he’d probably feel bad about. Anxiety+the realities of CP= a great combination. Then I wrote, ‘When I’m sitting, I’m fine. Then it’s just fear, of which I have plenty.’ Once again, perhaps it’d be best if I learned to keep these things to myself, but I just don’t know how. But I also made sure to write that I enjoyed having his arm around me, so it wasn’t all discouraging. I ended with my point being, ‘You’re going to have to be the initiator, and I’ll try not to fall on my ass.’ Too much information? Too much pressure? Too awkward? We shall see. He hasn’t written back yet.

ps-B often asks rhetorical, teasing type questions, like, “so are you going to write about this in your diary?” And he’s mentioned blogs a couple of times (as in, my having one). I’m sure it’s just paranoia, but I really hope he never finds this. There’s freedom and power in anonymity, and though I try to write in a way that’s respectful of B and anyone else I mention, I really want this to stay anonymous. So if any of you out there know me, don’t tell me.

ITNOWIT #17: A night at the opera

Operation ITNOWIT #17

  • my place
  • Wednesday 7/18/12
  • $15ish on groceries
  • 6:00pm-10:45pm

No, B and I didn’t actually go to the opera. But we did watch the Marx brothers film. =) I invited him over for dinner since he made dinner for me at his place last week. We had a bit of trouble finding a day that worked for both of us. Monday night he called me because I had suggested Thursday in an email and then written back later that day (without having heard from him) because Thursday didn’t work after all. On the phone he asked, “Didn’t you get my email saying I couldn’t do Thursday?” So that’s two emails of his that I hadn’t gotten. He asked if I’d checked my spam folder. Weirdly, they were there! I feel much better knowing what those two lost emails said. =) (Naturally, I analyze every nuance.)

So, he came over, he watched me cook, we ate, we watched the movie, we ate dessert, we chatted, he left. As always, I learned a few new things about him and had a good time. But we didn’t really pick up where we left off talking about personal things. As if, sure, we’d both admitted we didn’t date in high school, but that’s not too weird. Revealing anything about dating (or not) after high school, well… It felt like having a friend over for dinner and a movie. Except with a little flirting. Instead of moving forward we treaded water (sometimes that’s all we can manage). I think we’re both just really nervous about it, both unsure.

Good things: he brought dessert. Two kinds. One was a cross between a cream puff and a fruit tart. Amazing. And the other was cookie dough ice cream. Always good. Another good thing–he found and printed for me a couple of contemporary reviews of Pride and Prejudice. It’s really interesting to hear what critics thought of it at the time it was first published. The first review doesn’t even mention Jane Austen by name! Lastly, he told me he’s always thought it would be interesting to pick a decade and read primary sources so it would be like he’s living it. Like read a newspaper from the 1920s every day. Doesn’t that sound awesome? No? Just to we history majors, then? Okay.

Oh! One more thing. My phone rang, and I said, “It’s a family member. I’m not going to answer it.” So then he joked about answering it and what he would say…I guess you had to be there (and understand how shocked my family would be if a man answered my phone).

And that is where this blog post would have ended. With a perfectly nice, friendly night. With me feeling a bit disappointed that I hadn’t made myself just bring up dating, or talk about ‘us.’

But you see, B sent me an email this afternoon. He thinks I’m stunning, and he’s very attracted to me. (Cue a grin, some blushing, and a stomach twisting with nerves.) What followed from B after this admission was a jumble of maybes and not knowing (as in, ‘maybe you know what you want from the relationship,’ ‘maybe I’m just dense,’ ‘or maybe we both don’t know’). Hmm. I read it a couple times and then let it sit for a few hours before responding. I told him that I like him quite a lot. And perhaps we should just admit that we’re dating.

So…now there’s this email exchange that’s happened. Obviously, I understand that it’s easier to ‘say’ these things over email. Neither of us was doing a good job of it in person. When we see each other in person again, it’s going to be that awkward moment of, well, we’ve admitted these feelings, but now we have to acknowledge them while in the same room with each other. And figure out what to do next.

There’s no way it’s not going include large amounts of embarrassment. I literally might say, “You’re just going to have to kiss me.” And then squeeze my eyes shut tight. After which I might not being able to keep “Ack, I’m a virgin!” from escaping my lips. Basically, I’m a twelve-year-old stuck in an adult’s body, and there’s not a whole lot I can do about it.

ITNOWIT #16: ‘We’ve talked the whole night through’

Operation ITNOWIT #16

  • movies/my place
  • Thursday 7/12/12
  • $12.50 (B paid and said no when I offered to pay him back.)
  • 6:30pm-3:00am

When B dropped me off Tuesday night, I said, “See you Thursday,” and he said, “Yes, unless something happens with a job offer.” So all day Thursday I kept expecting an email or call to confirm our movie date for that evening at 7pm. Finally when 6:15 came and I hadn’t heard, I called him. When he answered I was like, “So, it’s Thursday…” and he said he was on his way over and hadn’t I gotten his email? So that was awkward. But I was glad to be going and glad I had called. I changed into a dress and was just putting on my shoes when he knocked. (I almost never wear a dress, but it was literally 100 degrees.) B said it was his fault because he had sent the email from his phone and it must not have gone through. He brought the leftover pizza we had forgotten. =)

B told me he hadn’t gotten the position he’d applied for (the one in the neighboring town). So that’s a bummer. I do hope he gets a job soon. And I hope it’s close by.

It was really fun to see Singin’ in the Rain on the big screen. I don’t think I’ve ever gone to a screening of a classic musical like that before. (Well, except Yellow Submarine with B!) It started out with an interview with Debbie Reynolds. She was only eighteen when she was cast, and she commented how she really was that sweet, virginal girl she played, “though there were lots of virgins in those days.” She is one funny lady, and one who likes to shock people! Anyway, I love that film. I love the writing team of Betty Comden and Adolph Green–such great dialogue. And man, that Cyd Charisse. I wish dancers still looked like Cyd. Strong and sexy. (Gene isn’t bad either!)

On the drive home from the movies, there was a long moment of silence, and I really tried to just let it go to see how long it would last, and what B would say to break it. It was definitely longer than an awkward pause. One of those moments where I wondered if B was wondering what to say, too. (I’m pretty sure he was. I don’t think we’ve reached the ‘companionable silence’ phase yet.) Finally, I asked what he was reading presently.

I think it was about 9:30pm when we pulled up at my house. He turned off the car, so I asked if he wanted to come in. He did, and we managed to talk until 3am. Well, first I pulled out my 2-disc set of the movie and we watched one of the special features. =) Then we talked more about high school and college. We’re still circling around what our (lack of) experiences have been with dating. We haven’t talked about anything past the age of 19–that’s about nine years unaccounted for for B and twelve for me. It’s really only going to take one question for the Big Secret to be revealed. Something like, “So who’s the last guy you dated?” Well, I was thirteen…

Anyway, it was really nice, sitting and talking. A book I was in the middle of was sitting out on the coffee table. Flirting with Pride and Prejudice. It’s a book of essays and stories about P&P and why it’s still so popular two hundred years after its publication. B took it up and began flipping through it. He came upon a section I hadn’t read yet that was in the (mocking) form of a magazine quiz (which told the reader whether she was a Jane, Caroline, or Elizabeth). B read it aloud, and it was pretty funny. I, of course, ended up being an Elizabeth. =)

Admit it, you guys want to find someone who’ll read a Pride and Prejudice quiz to you at 2am, too, don’t you? Is B really being himself? Or is he trying to impress me? Does it matter?

We had our typical, no-touching, awkward good-bye, during which I assured him, “See you soon. No suspense.” I’m trying to let him know more explicitly that I like him, since I feel more sure of it. (I finally hid my profile on OKC, though I didn’t tell him that.)

We will eventually figure out how to touch, how to kiss. We’ve got to. The thought of it still makes my stomach turn over, but it’s got to happen sometime. Probably after plenty of awkward, blushing conversation, just as it did when I was thirteen.




ITNOWIT #15: Pizza and a movie

Operation ITNOWIT #15

  • B’s place
  • Tuesday 7/10/12
  • homemade pizza
  • 5:15-11:15pm

After wondering how B felt about not communicating for a few days (since we spent the day together Wednesday), I emailed him Sunday evening. I asked about his weekend and then asked if he thought it was odd that it had been a few days, saying that I didn’t think so, but perhaps I’m odd. I added that I hoped he didn’t think I was ignoring him and asked if he wanted to get together Tuesday. I figured I should make the effort to be the one doing the inviting sometimes.

When he replied he said he didn’t know if it was odd because he didn’t know what my/our norm was. Then he admitted it was a bit suspenseful and he wondered what he might or might not have said… I love that he owned up to that. He invited me to his place for pizza and a movie and I accepted, adding that I hadn’t meant to keep him in suspense.

When we’re apart I find myself feeling calm and good about him. I am able to imagine where things will go. To think that, yes, eventually we will figure things out. We will kiss. (For pete’s sake!) We will learn how to be physically comfortable with each other. I find myself believing in that possibility. But when we’re together we’re pretty darn awkward still. Everything is said in that sort of shy, smiley tone, like we don’t want to step on each other’s toes. Can’t get too serious, can’t admit too much. I’m not sure how to move forward, but there’s nothing to do but keep spending time together.

And so I went to his place for the second time. We sat and talked a while. I read the backs of all the movies he’d picked up from the library. None of the choices were particularly confidence inspiring or alluring. He chose a Russian one (yay) but it was a wartime suspense plot (boo). He picked a quirky comedy (yay) but it was about a boy determined to lose his virginity (uh…awkward much?).

I talked quite a lot (again), but I hope he didn’t feel like the conversation was too one-sided. When you’re just getting to know someone, one question leads to so much backstory. At least it does when I’m the one talking. =) We talked about high school (neither of us ever went to parties) and college. He learned that I left high school halfway through my junior year to start at the community college. High school was not a happy time; college was better. “So,” he said with a smile, “when you said you didn’t date in high school, you meant for those two and a half years?” And what could I say but yes? I could have said, I didn’t date when I was high school aged, but that’s getting too close to begging the question, at what age did I date?

I like him. I like him more the more we’re together. He said he could probably live on rice and beans and my heart gave a little leap. Seriously. I know it’s not a sign that we’re soul mates that we both go for the simple whole grain/legume combo, but it’s a sign of compatibility. And he made the pizza dough. And put basil and oregano in it. I meant to help him more with the pizza, but I felt awkward (shocking!) about being in someone else’s kitchen with not a lot of counter space, and wielding a knife while being upright at the same time, etc., etc. So I kinda just watched until he handed me the bowl of chopped up toppings to put on the pizza. I did ask what I should do, but I think his answer was ‘whatever you normally do,’ which meant that I stayed where I was. I like that there were dishes in the sink. I like that when he handed me a napkin, it was a folded dishtowel.

B reads. A lot. This is a very good quality for a librarian, of course. I’d lent him The Perks of Being a Wallflower because he said he’s never really read young adult literature. He admitted that it took him a while to get into it. I don’t think he disliked it as much as I disliked Love in the Time of Cholera, but he maybe his was being polite. =) I also gave him Joel Bakan’s The Corporation and Jane Goodall’s Harvest for Hope last week and he’s finished them. Does this make me feel a bit guilty about not having read Dead Souls yet? Why yes, yes it does. Honestly, he just keeps impressing me, with the cooking and the reading…it’s a very good thing.

Then he went and asked if I wanted to go see the screening of Singin’ in the Rain. I said, “Are you asking me only because you know I want to go, or because you want to go?” He said he’d want to go either way, but I’m not sure I believe him. =) Regardless, it makes me really happy that he asked. Yes. I like him.

The movie we ended up watching was very odd and not a little disturbing, but B thought so too, so that’s good. Watching the movie projected onto his living room wall was really fun. Quite like going to the movies. It was late when it ended, but we talked a little more (back at the kitchen table, not the couch) until he asked if it was past my bedtime and I admitted that it was.

So he drove me home (we forgot my leftover pizza–drat!), and if all goes well I see him again on Thursday.