06/05/2011

At the risk of sounding like a giddy little school girl:

Date two was equally awesome.  *smiles*

I honestly cannot remember the last time I felt as comfortable around someone.  The defenses melted away, and I was one hundred percent openly myself. 

I trust him.

That kind of scares the shit out of me.  I’ve not trusted any of the guys I dated (not one hundred percent, instantaneous, no doubts in reserve) in longer than I can remember.  It isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it just… opens me up in a way that makes me more vulnerable than I’ve been in a long, long time.  I think I can safely say that I have not been quite this vulnerable since Christopher.  That, obviously, didn’t end well.

We went up to a shopping/dining/nightlife area a bit north of where I live on Friday night.  We met up at Barnes and Noble, went to the Pub near there for dinner and drinks.  We walked along the waterway and talked, stopped into a wine bar and enjoyed a glass of wine.  We walked and talked some more.  Nothing we did was extraordinarily exciting, but it felt extraordinarily exciting.  

And I trust him. 

We kissed, the last time, (which I withheld, so sorry!)  *Smiles*  It  was actually a bit odd, because he kissed me and then we both stepped back and looked at each other.  "That went really well"  "Umm… ya… it did"  I’m not used to first kisses going so, perfectly?  It may be the fact that he is actually a good two to three inches taller than me (that never happens!) 

I promise not to turn into a gushing schoolgirl.  Mostly because I keep telling myself in my sternest voice not to get carried away.  To keep a level head.  To be aware.  I know myself.  I know how easily  I can fall in love with being in love.  At the same time though, I’ve noticed a few things that give me hope.  Hope for myself.  Hope that the chains that bound Christopher to me are growing brittle and breaking.  Hope that I am figuring out how to purge him from my mind and shake his hold on me.  

One of those things is the fact that we kissed outside, on a street, with cars going by.  I have had horrible issues with public affection since Adam, really, and it caused friction in a number of my later relationships.  I didn’t even want you to put your arm around me in public. Later, I was capable of such displays only when under the influence of alcohol never when sober.  Yet I kissed him (with no alcoholic assistance), and none of the mind numbing fear or guilt overcame me.  I think that’s a victory worth celebrating. 

In other news:

Friday was the end of another school year.  I had three kids crying all the way home.  I was amazed at the number of big "tough guy" fifth graders who were hunched and angry to hide the tears sliding down their faces.  These tough boys who spent their year trying to prove how bad they were, crying.  I think that means we made a difference.   I hope it means it was a difference that will stick with them.  

I also have a funny to relate:

I gave my kids Kix for a snack (which most of them called "kids" instead of Kix, "Ms. A can I have some more Kids??") and they of course got it all over the floor.  When it was nearing dismissal time I told them they needed to throw away their trash and pick up the floor because there was cereal all over it.  As they got busy I looked over and saw one little boy at the juncture of tile and carpet in my room pulling with all his might at the edging.  (This is the boy of the "I like your hair" fame).  I asked him what he was doing and he looked at me and kind of shrugged and said, "Uh,well, you said to pick up the floor"  

I took a deep breath, turned around, walked out of my room and into my neighbor’s room where I collapsed and laughed hysterically for about three minutes before I could even tell her the story.  Ah, kindergarten.