The hardest thing about quasi-distant dating is that you’re forced into two relationships. One present. One in your head. I’ve spent the last few days living out the worst and best outcomes of the mess I made this weekend. So much so that I think I lost touch with reality.
I do that all the time at work. I over-analyze things to such an extent that I lose focus on the facts in front of me. I need to do a better job of taking the facts as they are and dealing with them.
I was convinced that I was going to arrive at her house yesterday and then head back home fairly quickly. Alone. When I got there, though, her eyes were still the same ones that I think about before I go to sleep every night.Her smile still shook me to my core. It was a little awkward at first. But after a pizza and wine dinner (I paid. No complaints. Boom.) we settled onto her couch for an episode of Newsroom. (Amazing show.) We went horizontal after an awkward attempt at sitting up straight. She put her head on my chest.
It was electric. There were fireworks just like the first time she walked out of her house, my knees week from her smile, clubmasters, and little black dress. Not a whole lot was said. But her smile told me everything I needed to know. I must have kissed her head a thousand times.
We talked about the weekend later. She was concerned. She didn’t want to date someone with tendency to get so sideways that he loses control of his words and actions. She stewed too much on it after I left Saturday. She was over it, now.
She was still on top of me, but it felt like someone backed my truck off my chest. I don’t think I had taken a deep breath in three days. As much as I hate to admit it as a man who prides himself of toughness and self-dependence, I just needed some confirmation. Some reassurance.
It’s funny how touch works like that. So much can be said. Explained. Promised. But at the end of the day, feeling the person you love next to you speaks things to the soul that couldn’t ever be expressed verbally. I got a text on the way home about us moving forward. The term “fender bender” was used. Certainly not ideal, but so much better than “totaled.”
I listened to this song on the way home. My love for her IS electric. It runs through every part of me. It’s shocked me into doing and saying things that just don’t come out of a conservative southern man. It has flatly jolted me off my feet. I’m sitting in my office still buzzing from feeling her skin on mine.
For lack of more corny electricity puns, I’m incredibly happy to be back in the hunt for her heart. Next up — her family’s. But that’s a post for another day.