July 20, 2011 § 1 Comment
Distracted by one cute Ginger-Haired Bartender. Oops.
Ew, I’m so gross, but I’ll admit it, I’m pretty smitten, emotionally surrendering to senseless romantic acts. You know me: I gag at that stuff, roll my eyes, affectedly grunt, mime self induced vomiting etc. Yet, I’ve received flowers a couple of times in the past weeks (and apologized for the awful face I made upon receiving them). I have held my tongue when the car door is opened or a chair pulled out, and taken complements with grace instead of cynicism as best I can. Huge steps, I think I’m growing up.
Staying up for hours talking reminds me of being in High School, in puppy love with little Beau Winder from next door or dinner with my nana (she’s got the gift of the gab). However, this sexual chemistry is not something I have ever experienced, most certainly not at 17 with little Beau Winder or my grandmother (yeah I went there). Mr. Red is very adult fun, almost acrobatic and we instantly connected. Let’s face it, sex takes practice to get really good. Based on the first few times, I think that makes us two professionals furthering our education.
It’s been a while, months even, I dare to admit. Something that started out as purely physical has developed into something entirely different. I can’t put my finger on it, but I think it’s feelings. I won’t deny it, but I can’t confirm it. I’m not one to let myself get carried away on heated promises between the sheets.
Of course he looks horrible on paper. Full time bartender, part-time actor, and like all 20-somethings, seemingly directionless. Although he’s coincidentally, born exactly 48 hours before me and I equate myself to the same position: a wanna be writer working in reality TV. The only difference is the people I get drunk are on prime time. The resume continues, get this, he’s from VEGAS (who’s from Vegas?!). I imagine he was raised by a heard of hookers, bred to be a sensitive good listener at a price. However, my fantasies of meeting my future tranny-in-law were crushed when we discovered our parents both met at the same Big Ten school. For all we know, they bonged beers together. All these creepy coincidences making me think the stars might actually be aligned except this the last bullet point. Wah wahhh, he’s fresh out of a long term relationship (which has me looking at the mirror screaming, YOU’RE A REBOUND).
I did thoroughly go over his application when we met, so I knew all of this. Like I said, it started out with purely physical, sweet summer boyfriend intentions. I’m incredibly guarded with my heart since I have been in several train wrecks derailed by love. I’ve made it clear that I’m looking for nothing long term, and he concurs. He says he’s in no position to jump into anything. Instead of my natural intention to stab my eyes when showered with romance, all this sweet sentiment has got me ignoring the expiration date and thinking I’ll just reassess when my tan has faded. After all, the day we met was electric and has accelerated since I got back from Alabama.
And yeah, yeah, everyone says it happens when you’re not looking… blah blah blah. But I’m just being realistic and enjoying getting to know an attractive Irish boy, who can keep up with my vocabulary, make me laugh, and is completely enamored with me, completely. This boy really has it for me for some reason and it’s not because I put out.
We are both clearly serial monogamists which has to be healthier than slutting around like the town bicycle. I guess I can say my love life is on the up and up, even though I’m almost positive it’s not going to last.