Real world

Yes, the real world -is- way too complicated.

It’s raining. It’s November. Both of which I am certain is coloring my mood.

Kelly hasn’t talked to me since Thursday. She did call last night, but I was watching a movie and didn’t hear the phone ring. I’m not sure I would have answered, though, because it looks very much like she was waiting for her mentor to call me and talk to me first.

Two weeks ago, she kissed me for the first time. This is after we’ve been actively dating for what? Five months?

Let me back up. …beep, beep, beep, beep…

So, I reactivated eHarmony. This after she’s told me repeatedly we’re not dating. But I have no idea what that means to her. I don’t think she does, either. So, I’m going to take another stab at who’s out there. I don’t tell her I’m doing this, because from my perspective, if we’re not dating, its not particularly any of her business.

We had talked about, earlier in the week of October 25th, of her coming down on the weekend for me to replace her disc-brake pads. Its fairly simple to do, I enjoy the hands on work, and will save her nearly $150. But she waffles throughout the week, calling me on Friday to tell me she’s not coming down: she has some meeting Sunday afternoon, and didn’t want to try to rush around leaving here to get there on time. I was agreeable, and offered we’d do the brakes on another visit.

A friend had invited me to a Halloween party on Saturday evening. A naturist party. The party thrown by the naturist educational foundation I am a member of. I told them earlier in the week that my girlfriend might be coming to visit, and probably wouldn’t understand naturism. They told me I needed a new girlfriend.

But, as it now was, I’d be able to go afterall.

Not that I didn’t have other things to do. I still needed to burn off a brush pile as a final stage of cleanup at the Farm, after the barn burned down last year. I hoped to burn it off Saturday night — my own private bonfire — and expected that if I did go to the party, I wouldn’t stay long in any case (I didn’t have to bring food that way, either).

Saturday morning, as I am packing things in my apartment for the move, Kelly calls. “Can I come up to see you? Do you already have plans?” I reply with, “Well, I’ve been invited to a party, and you can join me if you want, but we’ll talk about that when you get here.” I don’t seriously expect she’d consent to go, but I also didn’t want to have a discussion about naturism over the phone.

She arrives in the middle afternoon, and is immediately huggy. She obviously missed me, and I admit I don’t mind the reunion. I explain that I wanted, needed to keep working, but after the party, if we went, I was going to burn brush, and we could talk then. She agreed. She asked about the party. I explained it was a naturist party. She didn’t know what that meant. I explained.

She freaked, but only slightly. I was impressed with how she took it. Granted, she didn’t want to hear about it, really, nor talk about it. But she didn’t get all self-rightous, and she didn’t storm out or pout or any of a dozen other responses. She listened, responded, asked a few questions, responded again, then let it drop as I went back to work.

She couldn’t let her conversation wait, so while I sorted through boxes, she proceeded to make “chit chat”…which lead to, “Did you happen to do anything new on the computer this week?”

“Um, I don’t know what you are asking. I just rolled out two sets of JSPs for our office website, and tweaked a management page on the bike club site yesterday…?”

“Well, I saw you reactivated eHarmony.”

The speech, at least as I thought she was starting it, was “I know I’ve told you we’re not dating, and was prepared to let you go. But when I saw you had reactivated eHarmony, I started realizing how much you mean to me…”

I was listening, not responding. Which while that means I wasn’t reacting and was letting her talk, it means I wasn’t doing my perceived manly duty of comforting her through her distress. So after she pointed that out I had to stop working and come over and hug her while she talked more about her conflicting emotions… and how I sprang the naturism on her tonight of all nights. *chuckle*

Dating is inherently confusing at times, and I was again pleased with how she was handling this whole thing. We gradually changed the topic to the less dramatic, and ended the evening at my house with me showing off samples of my coursework from college.

Not going to the party, we left later in the evening, and headed to Bennigan’s for a quick bite (she was starving) before heading out to the farm for the fire. We had pleasant conversations over dinner, and had fun searching Wal-Mart for stick matches and a few other supplies. At the Farm, after watching me do a few, Kelly actually took her own box of matches and started trying to set the pile on fire.

Kudo’s for her. Trying new things. Following my example.

But the pile was too damp or two thinly stacked.

So I got my spare gallon of petrol from my pickup bed.

NEVER USE GASOLINE TO START A FIRE!!! EVER!!

Which I know, but did anyway. I poured about half-a-gallon over my side of the brush pile, walked the can about 30 yards away, then walked back, and tossed a match into it.

WHOMP!!! FLAMES thirty feet high, and a flash that flared about 15 feet from the base of the pile…fortunately not in the direction where I was standing (Praise God).

Kelly contented herself with sitting and watching the fire, warming herself in its heat, and occasionally joining me for some hugs, while I constantly worked and tended around it. For nearly 3 hours.

We got back to my apartment at around 3:30am. We were both quite sleepy. Normally she sleeps at my folks about 20 minutes away, something I was strongly recommending this night because I had not reactivated my gas furnace, and had no plans to as I’m moving out. I told her she’d either have to go with my folks or probably sleep in my bed to ward the chill.

She stated in no uncertain terms that she was not sleeping with me, and a discussion ensued about where she could sleep, then. Then she kissed me. Hard. Deeply. Twice.

“I just kissed you.”

“Yes you did.”

“I said I wasn’t going to kiss anyone until I was married.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Well, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking your definately not sleeping in my apartment tonight.”

And then she launched herself into my face again.

(continued)