I have a date tomorrow night. It will be our fourth. I am counting the hours, and that makes it seem even further away. I know that in all actuality, it's just a little more than twenty-four hours away, yet it seems like it'll never get here.
We had a great phone conversation last night - and at some point, he said I was only the second person he's gone out on a date with since his divorce. He said he's not much for dating around - that when he finds someone he is interested in, he devotes his time to seeing where it will go. And let me tell you, he has been devoting some time to me - and I could seriously get used to that.
I haven't felt this way about anyone in absolutely years. I'm giddy. I smile at strangers. I don't flip people off when they cut me off in traffic. I'm keeping my place tidied up, just in case he has free time and wants to get together. I think about his smile and his voice and his steadiness.
I like him.
And so, during our phone conversation last night, I went ahead and said it first: "I really like you. You're a nice person. You're sane. You've got a good head on your shoulders." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I panicked. Was it too soon?
He said, "I really like you, too."
I smiled and the panic went away.
We're getting together tomorrow night to watch Avatar (neither of us have seen it). He told me he would have wine for me, and asked me if I trusted him enough to pick out a wine for me, or would I rather he just have my favorite. I told him I trusted him. Then he said, good, because he had something special in mind - but just in case I didn't like it, he would also have my favorite (Ménage a Trios) on hand as a Plan B.
Then I asked if we were really going to watch a movie. He laughed and said yes, and added that he was pretty sure we could get through two hours together without pawing each other. Then he laughed again and said, "Well, maybe just a little bit of pawing."
Hopefully more than a little.