Caterwauling

At least, it seems that things are headed that way.

Brat and I hooked up last night, and I find myself hoping that it was the first time of many that we share a symbiotic breath.

The song that keeps running through my mind:

“Running down a central reservation

In last night’s red dress

I can still smell you on my fingers

And taste you on my breath.”

— Beth Orton, “Central Reservation” —

It was quite unexpected, actually, but not unwelcome. It felt so real. I can’t get him out of my head … the taste of his kisses, the softness of his skin, his gentle giggles and murmurs. I can’t let this become a one-nighter — I didn’t want him to leave my bed, ever. It’s incredible to be with someone for whom I have a deep well of feelings. Are my days of empty, cheap sex finally over, or are they still simply in progress?

How it all began was with an invitation from Brat to attend a Two Strikes happy hour at Buffalo Blues in Shadyside. I was apprehensive about going (what with My Hero, at the command of Her Royal Pretentiousness, continually discouraging me from fraternizing with anyone in the agency), but he talked me into it — not that I needed much convincing from him.

Conversation at the bar stopped when we walked through the doors together. I wasn’t sure if they were curious about us or if they were simply amazed that I would defect from the director’s circle. ‘Twas probably a combination of both, but I wasn’t overly fazed at being a show-stopper.

Surprisingly, I had a lot of fun with my colleagues — the ones I am all but barred from getting to know on any more than a surface level. Met an ex-employee, Beth, who made quite the impression. When she cozied up to me and absentmindedly brushed the hair from my face, I knew I’d met a kindred. (I later learned that she and Brat had been involved.) I ended up with her phone number and a kiss on the cheek. 🙂 Chris in Minnesota is MOST impressed with me!!!

Beth and Brat have apparently had some discussions about me. She was telling me that she told him she believes I will take over her reign as queen of Two Strikes. I told her I could only hope to be the princess to her queen. 😉

My buddy Steve (from college, not the wack-nut ex!) arrived awhile later — we had plans to do dinner and drinks, and I had gone to happy hour to kill time till he was available. When he arrived, I noticed that Brat and I really weren’t talking anymore. Steve also commented to me that Brat seemed really uncomfortable, watching me laughing and joking with Steve. Hmm. Interesting.

Finally, I was sitting between Brat and Steve, and I told Brat about Steve’s comment — in response to Beth’s saying how cute Steve is (hey, she’s right, ya know!) — “Yeah, so is my boyfriend!”

That did the trick. Brat warmed up again immediately. Strange.

Beth next cozied up to Steve, and Brat and I went to get drinks. We took different seats and started talking. I was aware that Bonita and Sonia were listening to us, so we attempted to talk in riddles. I asked how Colin was, and from the look on Brat’s face, I knew that was not the happiest relationship. I said that I nevr wanted Colin to be mad at me, and I don’t want tension between them because of me. Brat said that Colin is mad at him. I was surprised by that and asked why — I’d figured Colin was pissed off at me for rebuffing his advances — why on earth would he be mad at Brat? “For obvious reasons,” he said quietly.

I wondered why, because nothing happened. Oh, to have overheard that conversation. …

Steve and I left shortly afterward. Brat walked out with us so that I could get my briefcase and jacket from his car. After he handed me my stuff, our eyes met and we began to embrace. I went to kiss him on the lips (it was reflexive, really), and I thought he would go for it (given the tension building between us thus far), but he turned and kissed me on the cheek instead. I kissed his cheek, too, and Steve and I left. That’s when Beth saw us and had Steve pull over, whereupon she ran up to me and kissed my cheek. One only wonders what would have happened if I’d turned to face her full-on instead. …

Steve theorizes that Brat didn’t want to kiss me in front of him, but I was convinced that either he didn’t want to kiss me on the lips or that he was afraid a colleague might see us — and unfortunately, our grapevine at work has a direct line into HRP’s, and therefore My Hero’s, office.

At any rate, after we left, we met Steve’s friend Matt at Steve’s house. I reached for my phone to call Kristin, only to realized that I’d forgotten my cell phone at Buffalo Blues.

We went back to the bar, but no signs of my phone were evident — the group was gone and the bartenders hadn’t picked one up when they cleaned. I knew the crew was headed to a scary (to me) bar in Wilkinsburg, and we went there in search of my cell. While Steve and Matt sat safely locked in the car, I strolled in to find my buddies. (Let’s just say I didn’t have enough gold ‘teef’ to fit into that bar. …) I went to the back of the bar without incident (whew), and the first person I saw was Brat (hard to miss a hot white boy in a bar like that!). He had my phone in his pocket. He fixated his enormous green eyes on me and wordlessly handed him the phone. I thanked him and whispered that he should come out with my friends and me. I think for a moment he was highly tempted — or, at least he seemed that way — but he thought better of it and opted to stay. I left, looking over my shoulder, noticing that Beth and company were watching our every action.

So, Matt, Steve and I went to dinner at Vinnie’s (I take everybody there — best pizza on earth! I even cheated on my Atkins diet so I could partake). As we were driving back to Pittsburgh from the North Versailles-based restaurant and debating about where else we could go to drink, my trusty cell rang. (Glad I got it back!)

It was Brat. When I picked up, all he said was, “Where are you?”

I knew it was him; I love that voice. I’d know it anywhere. I didn’t need a hello or even a moment to wonder who that was. My body warmed up instantly.

I told him that we were looking for a place to go next, so he suggested The Attic in Oakland. I estimated that we’d be there in 15 minutes. Ten minutes later, he called to ask if we were in Oakland yet (which we were). I noticed later that I’d missed a call in that timeframe — could he have called me three times?

The Attic was, as usual, filled with underage kids — there was a rave going on at the bar below it (formerly The Upstage — I think the new name was Lava Lounge), and it was a dry rave. Ugh. So we went to Denny’s Bar, a tiny place a few streets over that was playing a bunch of Bon Jovi songs on the jukebox (yay!). Brat chose not to drink, which struck us all as odd. I had a few sips of my beer — I wasn’t really in the mood to keep drinking, because I was insanely curious why he wanted to see me.

We started exchanging those unmistakable “I want to kiss you” glances. He would look at me, look away and smile, and I would do the same thing. Finally, he decided it was time to leave … together.

I didn’t even think to say anything to Steve — I was so swept away in whatever heat the moment was holding for me that I couldn’t even form a thought or a plan. All I knew was that we were on the cusp of something and that the night was only just beginning.

Once we were outside, we began holding hands. Across the street from the bar, I turned to him and kissed him on the lips. This time, he didn’t turn away.

I thoroughly enjoyed kissing him. I could seriously kiss him every day for the rest of my life and be happy.

We ended up hiding under someone’s balcony and kissed some more. The taste of him was familiar and sweet, as if I had known him forever. His fingertips found their way under my sweater, drawing circles on the small of my back. He was both cautious and bold, and I was swept away.

Eventually, we headed back to my place. In the car, he took my hand and never let it go. Even when he commented that it was difficult to drive with one hand, I opened my palm to let him have his hand back. But he didn’t want that — he kept his palm pressed against mine until I curled my fingertips around his again.

When we arrived on my street, there were no parking spots left. It was clear that it was my decision whether he came in when he asked, “Will South Carolina be more exciting than tonight?”

I said I thought so. But I invited him in anyway — not planning to do anything sexual. But in my mind, I was intrigued by his covert admission that he was thinking about the two of us during our upcoming escape to Charleston for a development/accounting conference … much like I was.

He said he would come in for a litttle while. Of course, the apartment was in complete disarray — very uncharacteristic of me, by the way — but hopefully I managed to distract him!

I brought Maddie to him. She was quiet, curious, compliant. He must have literally rubbed her the right way, because her tail began bouncing around, and she got her content-kitty look. Then she rubbed her nose against his — and the only other people she does that with are Mom and me. She was clearly — uncharacteristically — charmed by him.

Because Maddie was enthralled, it was just a given that he would have access to the other pussy in the house as well. 😉

I lit some candles and joined him on the couch, kissing him and curling up next to him. I couldn’t believe it — there I was, in the arms of the man who had consumed so many dreams for so many weeks. I was amazed at my fortune.

I’d prefer not to divulge the blow-by-blow (ahem) events of the evening, but let’s just say that it will be a couple of days before my toes uncurl! 😉

I remember every kiss, every tease, every caress. I especially remember lying beneath him, kissing him as he moved inside of me. I remember those phenomenal eyes glistening in the moonlight from my window as we clung to each other. I never wanted to let him go — I never wanted to surrender the ecstasy of being with someone for whom I had developed such intense desire.

Parting, as it eventually occurred, was difficult for me. What went unsaid was that I have never, ever wanted anyone to stay … usually I am thrilled when they are out the door (or, when it’s not my place, when I am the one sprinting for the door).

He quipped that nobody ever tired him out before that, but that’s what I did. I reminded him that he was tired before we even got started. 😉 Then I gave him a lil whack on his cute little ass with his belt.

We held each other for a few moments inside the doorway. He pressed his lips to mine for a very long moment. When he came up for air, he said he knew that kiss wouldn’t last forever, but that he really hoped the impression of it would.

It did — and will.

We talked briefly on the porch (and kissed). He watched till I closed the door — he told me there are crazy people out there, and he wanted me to be safe.

Yep, I’ve fallen. Hard. No turning back on this one.

As he was getting dressed, he told me that he knows that I have a lot to think about. “As do you,” I said. He told me that he would be thinking about this night for a long time to come.

Likewise.

“Are you breathing

What I’m breathing

Are your wishes the same as mine]

Are you needing

What I’m needing

I’m waiting for a sign.

My hands tremble

My heart aches

Is it you calling?

If I’m alone in this

I don’t think I can face

The consequences of falling.”

— k.d. lang, “The Consequences of Falling” —

The real reason that I think I am not into Phil, quite frankly, is because my mind was wandering on Friday night. Who was I thinking about? You guessed it … Brat.

I was wishing that I were looking across the table into green eyes, not brown ones. I was reliving the previous Friday night, remembering that the next morning, he made me breakfast. And even if Brat were the remotest bit interested in me, he didn’t make a single move. I think, if Brat might have the same feelings for me that I have for him, he is smart. He knows that I require a bit more effort than the average woman. I’m tired of games, no question about that, but courtship is a dance. When someone just puts it out there that he is interested (like Phil does), I think it’s cute and I get bored. With Brat, I am guessing and subsequently, my own interest is intensifying. It will be a real letdown if this is only one-sided. But I will live.

It is the series of memories and dreams involving Brat that keeps me alive. While I may never truly get over CH and the abortion, I thinkt that what has kept me going through these very difficult past few months was the promise of a tomorrow with a wonderful man. I hope Brat is that man. I have never met anyone like him. And I don’t think I will again, if I were to let him go without a fight.

That Friday at the Creekhouse, he gestured for me to walk in front of him. He always does that. Always holds doors for me, even if I opened them and told him to go through before me (never would he do that, but I wouldn’t think it wrong, if ever he did). Always insists that I go first up the stairs or in the hallway, when we can’t walk beside each other. There are so many instances of chivalry that I have noticed. Finally on Friday, I looked right at him and told him that I wasn’t quite used to being treated so well … that he has real manners. He looked squarely in my eyes and replied that his mother taught him well. I replied that, yes, she did.

Judy was just thrilled by the stories I was telling her last night. She loved how he offered to drive me home because Colin was acting goofy; she fawned over his concern that Maddie needed to be fed; and she absolutely gushed over the comment about his mom. Said that he’s clearly a wonderful man, and she wishes that I can have him as a permanent fixture in my life. Said I deserve somebody like him. Said she loves him more and more, with every story that I tell. And that he gives credit to his mother, well, that clinched it for her. Said I’ve got to love a man who loves his mother.

(In Steve-o’s case, he loved his mother and was seeking a girlfriend to take the place of his mother, so I won’t jump on that one! But I do see her point — Brat was truly brought up right.)

One other story that made Judy happy (oh, and me, too!): On Monday, we had a leadership meeting (read: public humiliation debacle) in scenic downtown Homewood (yay gang violence). At lunch, Brat and CTL and I met outside to eat and smoke together. Brat stood up and said he was going inside and wondered if we needed a drink. CTL said no, and I said yes. When he came back, he handed me a cup and said apologetically, “It’s not sausage and eggs.”

Sausage and eggs, of course, is what he had made me for breakfast only two days before.

So I said gently, “Next time.” I also said it with certainty, with expectance.

CTL asked what we were talking about. Practically in unison, we said, “Nothing.” And we shared a little smile.

Anywho, I find Brat to be such a fascinating individual. And he is the challenge, the intellectual equal and opponent I desire. He’s up on world events, he remembersmy stories and he has plenty of activities and stories of his own to contribute. I find myself being mesmerized by him.

Even when we are together and not saying a word, I am happy. And whether we are 10 feet apart or within two inches of each other, I can feel him. I want him to be aware of me, to feel incomplete without me. And if he is already, I want him to realize it.

Perhaps it’s the sincerity in his eyes that draws me to him. I don’t know. Mom used to say that when J.O. and I were in photos together, we both lit up around each other. At any rate, I know what she meant — that we were so close and so attuned to each other that we blossomed around each other, so much that it was visible in our eyes. Are my eyes glowing when I see Brat? I have no doubt about it. I know that, when I look into his eyes, I feel so calm yet so excited all at once. And even when he is having a miserable day at work (by the stories he tells, and given our environment, miserable days are to be expected), when he looks at me, he seems OK. I always wish I could make it better for him, and I always tell him that. And I sincerely would like to take away any unpleasantness in his life — if I could kiss it all away and be his source of happiness, I think I would be content on so many levels, for a long time to come.

And that’s just a scary admission for me to make. “Forever” isn’t really a word that I utilize in my vocabulary. And I’m not ready to integrate it just yet, either. But I’m willing to think about it.

But we hav so much in common. From religion (the lack of it) to music (rock and alternative), we never run out of things to talk about. And maybe, just maybe, if we would ever find a gap in the conversation, perhaps we can occupy our lips in another way!

And so the dreams continue. …

Went out with Phil on Friday. Second date. He seems to think this is going really well … as if I have girlfriend potential or something. I don’t know. He’s very nice, has paid for dinner both times, and seems genuinely interested in me. Had to fight him off, of course, to keep him from coming up to my place. Even though I am on the Pill now and my body is adjusting somewhat to the recent trauma it has experienced, I am in no rush to get into a sexual relationship with anyone, let alone someone I don’t know if I want in my life for very much longer.

I feel like such a bitch, but he just makes me nuts. Reminds me way too much of my nitwit ex Steve. (Incidentally, I just pitched all of my old Steve-o memorabilia … the ex-files, if you will.) Looks at me so darn adoringly (we used to call it “ooking” with Steve — rhymes with “kook”), and I suppose if I returned the interest, I would think it was sweet. On the first date, I thought it was cute, and I also thought it was cute how he would put his hand across the table, hoping I would reach for it. He kept doing that on Friday, and I kept withdrawing and lighting up cigarettes so that my hands would be busy. Ugh. What is wrong with me? I have been so pissed for so long because I couldn’t find a good guy. I’ve been wanting a relationship for a long time, and here is one, staring me in the face, and all I feel is pity for this man who seems to think I can be the love of his life.

He laughs nervously when I look at him. Again, I let it slide initially, but already it irritates the shit out of me. And in true Dawn form, I asked him if I intimidate him. He did that stupid laugh and said no. I didn’t believe him — why else does he giggle so crazily when he looks at me, when nothing is being said? I told him it’s okay, that it amuses me that I intimidate people (he’s certainly not the first), but if people are so insecure that they let me bully them, then I think it’s funny, because I am usually pretty harmless.

Like I said, he was offended, but it was in response to a comment that I will detail later. Furthermore, if he weren’t easily intimidated (even though he seems to think he isn’t), then he would have found a way to put me in my place. The opportunity for a challenge for my tired mind went unrecognized … by him. Damn it — that could have been an easy way to keep me amused.

(Sidenote: When Phil was in the restroom, I called Chris K.’s cell phone and announced that I was bored out of my wits. We were supposed to get together later in the night, but it never happened, and my call was to check up on him and Judy and to find out when they could possibly bail me out.)

After the first date with Phil, I was okay with the way things went, but I don’t think I would have cried if he didn’t call me again. In fact, I was rather proud of myself for not fucking him, as is my ritual. Typically, I figure that I should find out right away if he’s a good enough lay to keep him around, but since my abortion, I figure that it is my right as well as my choice to wait, to save myself for someone who will be worth it. Not that fucking CH, in and of itself, wasn’t worth it — I had a great time with him,b ut I need someone who is going to be around if I want him to be around. CH can’t give me that. However, I think Phil would be more than happy to stay around,b ut I also feel that if I do give it up for him, I won’t be able to rid myself of him (and it would be the whole Steve-o pattern again).

Phil made the MISTAKE of saying, early in the date, that after our first date, he really had me pegged as a complete airhead. (?!?!) He said that he was pleased to learn that I was an intellectual, that I am a lot smarter than my initial impression. Chris K. is literally ready to hunt him down and beat some sense into him — Chris told me that there are many names that I can be called, but airhead isn’t one of them. If anything, I am way too smart for nearly everyone who crosses my path. (Yay Chris! I love that guy!)

I disagree with the last part of his statement, although not entirely. I told Phil that there is no need for me to discuss the world economy or how to solve the energy crisis in California. I informed him that while everyody else is watching movies and reading the National Enquirer, I’m reading books and keeping up on world events and am constantly trying to expand my knowledge of anything and everything. I know that I intimidate people with my brainpower, and on the first date, all I am out to do is see if this person can carry on a conversation and to learn more about them personally. It’s the second date where I pull out the political diatribes and see if I’ve found a worthy opponent.

And that’s the thing … he seems to think that he’s my intellectual equal. I can say that I do NOT believe that. And that’s what I want, more than anything. An equal, an opponent, a challenge. I do not find that in him, at least, not from what I have seen so far. He could end up being the love of my life, for all I know. But right now, I won’t venture down that road … because it’s probably a short road, from the looks of it.

Chris always says that it’s pointless to play with an unworthy opponent. He reminded me of that sentiment yesterday. Furthermore, Chris is still pissed about the airhead comment, even though Phil qualified it that he has certainly changed his mind. I had told Chris that I walked away from Date One with the feeling that Phil wasn’t the smartest condom in the case, and Chris said that after Date Two, Phil has only served to validate my initial impression.

My summary on Phil: great guy, good intentions, nice looking (Italian!) and seems to care about me. On the other hand, I don’t think he listens to me (I told him that on Date One), although he made it a point to announce on Date Two that he remembered my fondness for Bon Jovi, punctuated with the comment of, “See? I really do listen!” He shouldn’t have to TELL me that he listens … he should work a lil harder to prove it!

For instance, I told him on Date One that I do not like Friday night outings because I am tired by the time I arrive. And especially, I hate going straight from work to a date because I think everyone should go home and freshen up, and that would also break up the workday from the playtime much more effectively. I asked him if he felt funky from not going home to get ready. He said no, but after I shot him one of my famous (patented!) death glares, he agreed with me. (Note: I at least freshened up at work — even though I knew he wasn’t getting laid, I washed my coochie, freshened the deodorant and updated the hair/makeup/perfume just so I could feel good, but I could tell that he literally jumped out of his chair and raced down the street to see me — he was slightly disheveled and could have smelled better.) Whatever. At any rate, I reiterated that teh only way I can last on a Friday night is to go home, rest and jazz myself up, and then go out around 9 or so.

Did he listen? We will see, when and if he calls for Date Three. And as far as I am concerned, No. 3 is Make-or-Break-Date. But I do know that is difficult because neither of us has a car, so it’s not like I feel like traveling by bus to hang out. But why can’t he ask me out for a Saturday afternoon or Sunday morning? Oh wait. He goes to church. Ugh. Definitely NOT my cuppa tea!!!

Mom thinks I am being WAAAYYY too hard on him. First of all, she knows how hurt I was by CH and his apparent interest in forgetting what happened to us, particularly the suffering that I eventually incurred. So she (and some others) wonder if I am punishing Phil for getting scorched so badly a few months ago.

I don’t necessarily believe that. The only impact that my abortion has had, as far as Phil is concerned, is that I don’t feel I have to fuck him if I don’t love or desire him. (Per the old “Seinfeld” episode, he’s not “spongeworthy”!!!) And I don’t even have to love him — I just don’t want to reproduce with him. I wouldn’t have minded having CH’s baby. It would have been beautiful and brilliant, and I had enough love in my heart for CH at the time to understand that he couldn’t be a full-time father. And at that time, I thought he even might have come around eventually. But then we look at my own father, who hasn’t come around in 27 years, so I couldn’t fool myself into thinking that CH wouldn’t follow suit, and I didn’t want a daughter as disappointed in her father as I was in mine.

Oh well, back to Phil. With the whole airhead issue, the likelihood of him getting a third date is relatively slim, and anything else is out of the question. Read the next entry to discover why. …

I write today with an unfamiliar sense of certainty. The thought crossed my mind yesterday that I am in the right place at the right time; that all roads have led me in the right direction; that those roads are converging right before my very eyes.

In summary, whether or not my job at Two Strikes is right for me, my arrival there might have been the best thing I could have ever done for myself. Had I never arrived at Two Strikes, I never would have met Brat, adn right now, I can’t imagine what life would have been like, had we never met.

Long story short, I spent Friday night with him and his friends, and I stayed at his house that night as well.

It was the first time I’ve slept over at a straight man’s house … and actually slept! 🙂 And I have to say tha tit was one of the better nights of my life.

We started out at the Creekhouse with Colin and Bob and two other guys. I’d been there once before and hated it. Didn’t have a much better impression of it this time, either. Brat and I ended up taking off before everyone else, in search of more activity and excitement.

Drove to the Fox and Hound in Northway Mall. He was an awesome tour guide, pointing things out to me throughout the North Hills. Learned a lot abut him and saw some of the places and the home of people that are important to him.

Time absolutely seeps through my hands when I’m with him. Hours pass, yet it feels like only seconds, every one of them more precious than the last.

I keep looking for something more in his eyes — a sign that he will be in my life for a long time to come. In the intensity of his gaze, I think it’s there … at least, I hope it is.

We played darts until the rest of the crew arrived, which was about three rounds of darts later.

The four guys played darts and shuffleboard for the rest of the evening. That’s what I get for always hanging around groups of all men! But in true Dawn fashion, I found my kicks elsewhere. Hung out at the bar and met a guy, Carl, who was only too happy to buy me a drink and keep me company till Colin came looking for me! 🙂

Colin added an interesting twist to the evening. He made it clear, through little slurs and not-so-subtle hints, that he had full intentions on fucking me senseless that night. At first, I thought he was joking, but I quickly caught on and refrained from encouraging the banter. It’s not that I am opposed to sexy talk or even the act of fucking itself, but something was holding me back … something that would turn out to be a respect and maybe even a desire for the friend who introduced us.

I figured nobody heard his little asides (such as his comment that he was looking forward to looking through my CD collection later on), but Brat doesn’t seem to miss anything. The plan was that Colin would drive me home, because he lives closest to me (on the North Side), but Brat must’ve realized that Colin had no plans on seeing his own apartment that night. At some point, Brat put his hand on my knee and offered to take me home himself, but that if it were OK with me, he’d take me to his house to crash and then take me home Saturday morning, when he was more sober. He said he felt bad, but he was closer to his house where we were, and that he could take a couple of back roads and hopefully not get lost and/or pulled over on the way to mine.

I appreciated the offer, and a few minutes later (after another loaded comment from Colin, which later I learned was a blatant lie anyway), I agreed.

Brat was so sweet about it. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I know you have a kitty at home who probably needs to be fed.”

My heart absolutely melted What a sweetheart! I assured him that Maddie had plenty of food till the next day, but I appreciated his concern.

At that point, we all decided to leave — and no one knew what we were talking about. It became evident that Colin was more than ready to get me out of there, but I told him I had left my stuff in Brat’s car (I had purposely left my jacket in his backseat, I guess in hopes of having him decide to take me home instead of having Colin do it). Colin was pissed. Nastily, he snapped, “Fine!” and announced to the other guys that they were staying for another drink.

Outside, I thanked Brat, and I explained to him that I could definitely handle Colin and his advances, but I was grateful to not have to. I made it clear that I was neither scared nor offended — I just wasn’t in the mood to deal because I knew I would end up fighting him off. In my inebriated state, I went on to say that I don’t really need another notch in my belt — I’ve kinda been there and I’ve done that, and then some. I want more. And furthermore, Colin was doing a lot of talking … is he all talk?

Brat said he is, that he’s all bark and no bite. I laughed and told him that I bark, but I also bite! 😉

I recounted a conversation I’d just had with Chris and Judy, how I found myself asking why people can’t just go out for dinner and drinks anymore. It seemed to be Phil’s expectation that sex was a given. Chris reminded me of my old belief … why can’t I just fuck the guys? Why do I have to date them? Do I really need to talk to them too? 🙂

Brat was laughing. He promised to rag on me about this during future smoke breaks.

(I just realized I never recorded the info about my date with Phil, but I’ll do a synopsis later … if I feel like it!)

Brat brought it up about how he’s amused that I let him pick on me, but he reminded me that I’d told him long ago that I was fine with it. I said that I absolutely love it when he picks on me (I really do — the way his eyes glitter when he “gets” me is worth it!).

We got to his house, and all I can say is that I could see myself living there. 🙂 I just felt so at home, so comfortable. Loved his dog, Buster. Found myself wondering if he and Maddie could ever get along.

After my grand tour, we watched TV — “Real Sex” was on HBO. I curled up in the armchair and he stretched out on the couch. I found myself wondering what our boss would have to say about this situation.

We went to sleep awhile later. I cozied up in his spare room and he went up to his room. I was freezing, so I stayed dressed. Moments passed, and I heard him say my name. I extracted myself from my frozen fetal position, and we made eye contact in the dark. My goodness, what stopped me from pulling him closer to me? In that darkened room, with the faint hallway light behind him, he was incandescent.

He came over to offer me a sweater in which to sleep — he said he didn’t want me sleeping in my dress. It was a beautiful olive green. It smelled like him. I gladly wore it.

I awakened a few hours later, freezing despite the heavy sweater. Put my own clothes back on and put the sweater over everything. Traipsed downstairs, put on the TV and fell asleep watching “Bridges of Madison County,” which is a great movie to sleep to. (Loved the book, though!)

Was later awake and watching “90210” when Buster bounded down the steps. I was in the armchair again, with his sweater around my shoulders.

He came down awhile later, in glasses and a baseball cap. Adorable.

He let the dog out. He loves that dog so much, and I can tell the feeling is mutual. Just watching them playing and goofing around on the floor was quite endearing — I could see that he’s a very good daddy to him. 🙂

I promised to let Buster back in the house while Brat took a shower. Found myself wishing I had a change of clothing and some of my cosmetic products myself, because I was feeling not-so-fresh and wanted a shower myself (preferably with him, but I digress. lol). Oh well.

When he came downstairs, he made us breakfast. My, my. I was beyond impressed. Told him I’d love to hire him to take care of me.

We hung out and watched TV. He didn’t seem to mind having me around. I could have stayed there forever, but I really was longing for a shower and some different clothes.

When he brought me home, we hugged. Much as I wanted to kiss him goodbye, I was well aware of the fact that my teeth needed to be brushed (although I was chewing gum and I did use toothpaste), so I refrained. We did embrace, though. He held me so tightly. I nuzzled my cheek against his, and I was sated by that. We let go of each other, and our eyes met. He seemed happy. I know I was happy, too.

The rest of the day, when I was alone, was bizarre. I was visited by fragments of dreams and visions I’ve had throughout my life of a nameless and faceless entity. The visions came fast and furious, and for the first time in years, the random puzzle pieces of insight began to make sense. The nameles, faceless entity suddenly emerged with green eyes, light brown hair and a smile that could illuminate a starless night.

Will these newly clarified visions, though, reflect a yet-undiscovered reality?

Is he my reality?