oh, boy

Evidently,The Boy is having the same sort of week I’m having.  Finals week isn’t pretty at any level; he’s managing freaked out adolescents, I’m managing freaked out college students, and we both have too much grading.

Evidently, The Boy thinks seeing me this weekend would improve his week immensely.  How funny: I feel much the same way.

Evidently, The Boy likes me.  The evidence points in that direction for me, too.

I’m still a little giggly over all this – and I plan to enjoy it as long as I possibly can.

when you’re a bad friend

I had a moment today when I had to face the harsh truth that I have been an awful friend to someone in my life.  And that just sucks.

My girlfriend and I came in together here at PRU all those years ago.  We were the two single girls; we had some interests in common; we got along; we enjoyed each other’s company.  The first few years, we were usually together once or twice a week, grabbing lunch on campus or meeting for drinks on the weekend or going to the symphony on a special occasion.

Then she got married.  And that’s not a good reason to stop doing things together but it did make things more difficult.  Admission: I have never been fond of the man she married.  I hate to say it but I have very good radar when it comes to friends’ significant others (my own? not so much); if you’re a prick, I’ve got you pinned in 2.5 seconds – and rarely have I been proven wrong.  Unfortunately, I was very right about this asshole.  Over the years, and with the addition of children, her life has gotten much harder.  We see each other but it’s sporadic and often accompanied by children (so hectic).

Well, she got a new position, which is such a good fit for her, so we’re all quite happy while sad that she’s leaving us.  Aside from the professional, I knew she was hoping this would be the change she needed in her personal life; sometimes you just need a fresh start to turn things around (or so the thinking goes).  She starts in the spring semester, so you can imagine how stressful this semester has been as she wrapped up everything on one campus and started transitioning to a new campus.  Added to this, her husband has been less than helpful and borderline abusive in his reactions to her and everything about the move.

I knew things weren’t good; we had a few opportunities to talk this semester but it’s was too often in passing.  And I was busy.  And she was busy.  And he made it difficult to have any contact with her.  And then, today, she called me in a complete meltdown.  We met this morning at a local coffeeshop and she put her head on the table and sobbed for 10 minutes.  And I realized what a crap friend I’ve been this semester as she’s been dealing with way more than anyone should without any support.

So, tonight, I went over to her house and helped her get ready to leave tomorrow morning (the asshole has already gone ahead, which is a good thing). In a crisis, I am your woman (again, in my own life, not so much).  We went room by room, with me asking what needed to go and what could stay; I would pack while she would sift through things; she would organize while I loaded things into the car.  In three hours, we had things organized in the house, the car packed to the brim, the counters cleaned, the trash taken out – and were sitting on the sofa with a beer – and I don’t even drink beer; it was that kind of day.

I don’t feel good about this.  I’m glad I could help her, and I’m glad we had the hours tonight to be together and say goodbye.  But I should have been helping her this entire semester, not here at the last minute.  Sigh.

I am officially stupid

I just sat and stared at the following equation for about five minutes: 210.51 – 94.50.  For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what to do with that zero…

Not only am I stupid, I think I’m going blind.  I’ve been staring at the computer screen way too much, I know, but now I’m having trouble reading road signs.  I just had my contact prescription checked!  I hate to go back but I don’t like this slightly fuzzy view of the world around me.

Boy, is it the end of the semester…

yes, it is different

I’m so very, very tired.  I’m fighting a cold; it’s in my chest and I’m starting to cough.  It was sheer force of will that it didn’t arrive earlier in the week – but there was NO WAY I was going to be sick when The Boy visited.  It’s the end of the semester, so I don’t have much in the way of defenses left.

And there’s just so much to do.  I am so overwhelmed right now that I’m almost immobilized.  Finishing up grading is only part of the load.  With my new position in my professional organization, I’ve picked up a lot of responsibilities, and the one looming is figuring out a response to the recent federal regulations of teacher education.  I’m now helping to write my college’s response, too.  The work is the same but it’s still more work on top of the other things I have to do.

But I’m still smiling.  Because he is so hot!  :)

Someone commented that I never talked about this kind of passion with SG, and that got me thinking.  And I realized something: I’ve never had this level of passion with any guy. Hmmm, that’s telling, isn’t it?

I’ve always fallen for nice, intelligent guys; we had a few interests in common, we could talk easily, we enjoyed each other’s company.  I’m not saying there wasn’t physical interest because there certainly was (at least in the beginning).  SG and I started off pretty well, actually, but it quickly cooled to pretty nice.  I wanted to be with my gentleman – in every sense of the word – but that was never the driving factor in the relationship; the physical side was clearly linked to me falling for their personalities and companionship.

Oh, is this different.

It’s not a clear relationship, for one thing.  We aren’t dating; we aren’t together; we aren’t any combination of words that indicates a couple.  We enjoy each other’s company quite a lot but that isn’t the driving force here.

I am drawn to him, pure and simple, and there is an attraction there that I’ve never had before.  He is a beautiful man (trust me) that just pulls me in.  I have always appreciated a good looking guy but this is much more than appreciation. The sexual chemistry is freaking amazing; I swear, we crackle when we’re together.

This is new for me, and I am thoroughly enjoying it!  Sure, I had fun when I was younger (not so much in the last ten years….) but I didn’t know what I was doing – nor did the guys I was with, I might add.  Being older, wiser, happier with myself: those things make it easier to be with someone – and I definitely want to be with The Boy!

A nice piece of all this that surely contributes is that we know each other – not the details, of course, but we’ve been friends for almost nine years.  We’ve had some of the longest conversations I’ve ever had with anyone, so we’ve had opportunities to get to know each other.  That makes things comfortable between us, and that is exceedingly nice; there’s no need to get past the general getting to know you because we already do.

So, yes, this is fun, and this is nice, and this is passionate.  It’s also new to me, so I’m sort of figuring out how this all works as I go.  I think I’m going to enjoy the figuring.

well!

So, it is rather out of character for me to wake up beside a hot guy but I must admit that I liked it very much…

The Boy arrived around 8:30 last night; he had about a two hour drive and got a later start than he’d hoped (which extended my freaking out time but did give me a chance to finish some work).  I had dinner ready, so after welcoming hugs, we sat down to eat – and talk, which comes easily to us.  He helped me clear the table and we moved to the sofa with our after dinner drinks.  (I love that he’s a whiskey drinker, by the way; I am, too, so that’s pleasant but there’s something about a man who drinks whiskey…) He stretched out, I sat down beside him and we continued to talk.

As if I needed any more convincing, that sealed the deal.  Any guy who can just be with the girl when the chemistry is crackling: sigh.  We talked, my well-chosen music played, we talked some more.  At one point, we were both standing up and I asked if he needed anything before I sat back down: “A hug” Have I mentioned that his hugs are wonderful?  He just envelops me.  I’m not a small woman but I am with him: 6’3″ and solid, broad-shouldered muscle.

One thing led to another (ahem).  And I shall share the best quote of the night: “We don’t have to stand up, you know.  Would you like to go in there” – nods to bedroom – “or over there” – nods to sofa – “or should I just put you on the floor?”  Reader, I chose the first option.

It is a wonderful thing to feel wanted.  It is also wonderful to be comfortable with the person who wants you.  We’ve known each other so long and we get along so well, it really wasn’t awkward or strange; there was some laughter and, really, it was just wonderful.  As was falling asleep.  He didn’t toss and turn and thrash; he just put his arm around me and fell asleep.  And he didn’t let go through what little sleep we got.

And today was perfectly normal (well, there was some extracurricular kissing but, otherwise, normal). We went to campus; he did some guest lecturing in my two classes; the kids loved being able to ask a real teacher questions about teaching.  We were able to grab a quick lunch in between classes and talk shop; it’s nice to talk to someone who shares my content and my profession.  He may not be a professor but he’s a teacher, so we can talk companionably about those elements.

He stayed here longer than he should have, given the long drive back, but we were comfortable on the sofa: him stretched out on the chaise, me tucked under his (very well-muscled) arm, just talking about whatever.  Then he was off and we hope that the opportunity will present itself to do this again sometime soon.

I am giddily happy.  I ran over to my friend’s house right after he left – because this is the reason we have girlfriends!  She handed me a glass of Bailey’s when I walked in the door and we laughed for a few hours – her, mostly because she was laughing at me.  I just keep saying, “He is so HOT!” – which is quite true and something I delight in thinking about – and then giggling uncontrollably.  But he’s also a sweetheart whose company I truly enjoy.  But, yeah, he’s hot.

So out of character for me but so very fun.  Because he is freaking hot.

admittedly, a little excited

Well.

The house is clean and fairly well-ordered.  All ingredients for the boeuf bourguignon were prepared last night and await their transfer to the slow cooker.  The playlist features a nice mix of good music*.  The Christmas tree looks festive.

I need to take a shower and get myself off to campus for an afternoon of meetings.  In between soothing nervous students (ah, final projects), I have a stack of papers to grade and a rebuttal paper to write. That should keep me occupied until this evening.

Ridiculously nervous. But in a good way.

*The Boy is a music lover and, luckily, he has good taste.  I’ve got selections from The New Basement Tapes, Frank Turner, The Gaslight Anthem, Augustana and The Avett Brothers cued up, with a little John Mayer, Hozier, The Head and The Heart, Sam Smith and REM for variety.

I think this is called anticipation

So, if the planets align, The Boy will be here Monday night for dinner.  And, get this: he’s going to visit my classes on Tuesday.

I am seriously not kidding.  We talked about it at the conference, somewhat off-handedly.  I’m always happy to have former students/current teachers come to class; it gives the students some insight into the current classroom that, alas, I cannot give them as well as a break from just hearing me talk.  So, it wasn’t strange that I offered him an open invitation if the opportunity arose.

Complete serendipity: I used the chapter we wrote together in class last week.  I mentioned this to him and he was quite excited (it’s not every day something you write ends up as curriculum in a college class).  So, that lead to a conversation about possibly visiting class sometime.  And then I mentioned that I wouldn’t be teaching methods classes next semester – I actually have two literature classes! – so it was a shame he couldn’t have come this semester.  His response: “I could probably take the day off to come.”

Well, I’m not going to stop you!  Of course, the original conversation was him planning to drive down Tuesday morning and back that afternoon when classes were over.  I didn’t say anything, just “um hmm-ed” and said to let me know if he got the day off.  He texted late this past week to say he had the day; I told him I’d send my lesson plans so he’d know what we were talking about that day – and he was welcome to drive down Monday night rather than make the roundtrip drive in one day.  (Look at me, being all casual!) He said that would work and that’s where it stands now.

Hah.

I really shouldn’t get too excited; things have a way of not working out between us (see: nine years) so I’m not quite convinced he’ll make it until I actually see him walk through the front door. A girl must prepare regardless, however, so I did some housekeeping today.  The Christmas tree was one goal; it’s festive and it smells nice (and offers some pleasant lighting).  I finally managed to vacuum the house – dropping tree needles all over the carpet was a good inducement – and I did the usual loads of laundry so everything will be dry and put away by Monday.  I’ve been putting the detritus of my life away in the living room; the kitchen comes tomorrow.  Trust me, I realize he could care less but this is a good reason to do what I’ve needed to do for weeks.

I made a grocery list but didn’t make it to the store today so that’s tomorrow’s task.  Since I invited him to dinner, I have to cook.  Well, I suppose I don’t have to; we could go out somewhere – but where’s the fun in that?  So, I found a recipe for bouef bourguignon in the slow cooker.  There’s a (freaking) lot of prep work to do tomorrow but then I won’t have to worry about actually cooking on Monday; the food will be ready whenever (if) he gets here and the house will smell nice.  Fix some noodles, pour the leftover wine, and offer some chocolate for dessert: done.  I don’t want to be fussing in the kitchen, before or after he gets here, and I’ll have some leftovers for the week.  As long as its edible, I’m good.

Try not to laugh but I also bought a few new bras today.  Yes, the thought that someone might actually see one on me was most of the provocation but – and this is true – I’ve been wondering if my size has changed.  Indeed, it has!  I’ve lost about 4 inches in my torso, so I do actually need new undergarments, which was enough reason to buy four new ones and put my current ones in the to-donate box.  (And for anyone wondering, yes, I did buy a black lacy one.)

I thought I might pick up a pair of jeans at the Aging Military Store while I was out.  My current pair, which I bought about a month ago, is already baggy – precisely why I bought the $28 jeans instead of the $170 jeans I tried on somewhere else.  My shape is obviously still changing, so I need to think “transition” until things even out.  So, after trying on a few styles and sizes, I ended up ordering two pairs of 6 longs since they didn’t have them in stock.  And now, please, go back and read that sentence: size 6.  I have never, in my working memory, been a single digit size, and while I realize it has quite a lot to do with the style of jean, I’ll take it!  So, that means, since this summer, I’ve gone from a size 14 to a size 8-10, with the outlier of a pair of 6 jeans.  Woo!

I was talking to a (male) friend this evening and mentioned the weight loss; we saw each other at the conference so he knew I’d lost quite a bit.  He actually told me I looked hot – again, not something I’ve heard frequently in my life.  I don’t know about “hot” but I do think I look pretty good these days.  The weight loss has been a big boost; the new clothes have helped immensely; but the newfound confidence is really the element that makes it all work.

I feel pretty good about myself right now, where I am, what I am.  I did before the conference, and my encounter with The Boy only helped.  Perhaps that’s how I was finally able to jump that hurdle (and him): I finally like myself.  I like how I look; I like where I am professionally; I like how I feel about myself.  It only took me 42 years to realize that, while my life has often been hard and difficult, it has also been interesting, and that makes me interesting.

So, let’s hope I get to be very interesting this coming week…