Still no word on my puppy. This makes me sad and more than a little bit crazy. I compulsively check my phone for messages which is never more than 2 inches from me so there really is no way for a call to come in without my knowledge, and still I check. I have walked my neighborhood for hours calling his name and yet that has done nothing. I want to sit outside in my backyard where Harley and I hung out most of the time so that if he comes home I'm HERE. Momma's HERE baby! And yet I can't. I can't just sit. I can't just wait. It makes me CRAZY.
So, here is what else is going on.
Yesterday while venturing out of the office for lunch I hear "Sassy? Sassy Pre-Marriage-Pants?" Holy crap! I haven't been called by my maiden name in eons and let me tell you that had me spinning in circles trying to find a face, any face, I would recognize from a former life. And there he was. Some 15 years of age on him but still hands down the most gorgeous man I ever dated. I'll call him Mike. I call him that because that is actually his name and it just keeps things simple. I'm all about simple y'all. Heh. So Mike saunters up to me on his impossibly long legs, towering over me with his broad shoulders, looking down with his milk chocolate eyes and smiles that smile that had my inner innocent self melting into a puddle. Mike wrapped his still yummy muscled arms around me and gave me a long hug rather than just saying hello. That shocked my system and rocked me back over a decade. Back in the day, being wrapped up in his arms was one of my favorite places to be. He made me feel small and precious in all the best ways.
Once upon a time I dated him off and on for over 3 years. Rather than go to my senior prom, I flew to California to spend a weekend with him at the camp he worked at. I had a heart thudding crush on this guy that shattered into a million pieces halfway through my freshman year of college when I finally realized he had a problem. A very serious problem with lying. The compulsive kind. He would lie about the most stupid and inane things. He would lie for no reason about absolutely nothing. And that I could not deal with. Could Not Deal. So, being the coward that I was so many years ago, I wrote him an mushy sappy letter about how much I cared about him but that he needed help. Please get help! And then I vanished.
Later, he tried to track me down. I discovered through family friends that he wanted to find me to thank me. He needed help and he got it. Counseling and therapy and all that jazz. But I was getting married and no one would tell him how to contact me because they didn't want the evil man to be near the blushing bride. Whatever.
And then, yesterday, there he was, standing on State Street, still as gorgeous as ever. He has aged like Clooney has aged. None of the gorgeousness of youth has vanished, it just got older in the most lovely ways. He has fine lines around those same sexy bedroom eyes. He has a scattering of gray in his think brown hair that only adds to the allure. 37 years looks even better on him than 22.
We spent 2 hours getting reacquainted over lunch, trying to catch up on a lifetime of doings. He currently lives in Chicago, a CEsomething of some big company and is in town for the week on business. He is divorced with no kids and while reconciled to that still wishes it could have been different. From what I learned he is still playful and spontaneous and adventurous. He is still faithful and impossibly close to his mother and brothers. He is still the man I remember, just more MANly. Say it with me now: Mmmmm!
Mike asked me out for drinks last night but I already had plans. He asked me out for tonight and I gave him a non-committal "maybe." A couple hours ago I made other plans. Why am I so nervous and scared about going out for a drink with this man. I trust him. He's not going to physically hurt me. We have always had a wonderful time together and I know we would again. Was it the spark? Because hell yes there was a spark. To be perfectly honest, it wasn't so much a spark as it was giant leaping flames from my girlie bits that had me melting from the inside out.
Nothing good can come of this, right? He lives in Chicago which while not impossibly far away is still far enough to prohibit a real relationship if I were inclined to go there, which admittedly did cross my mind once or 700 times. We could have a nice roll in the hay just for old times sake. I'm positive it would be amazing. It was then and after years of experience for both of us, it could only be better now, right? But I already have one complicated friend with benefits. Adding another just isn't an option. Not an option because I won't doodle with two people at the same time and... and... and that's all I've got. But drinks don't mean I have to doodle. I'm a grown woman. I can keep my clothes on and my hands to myself. Quit laughing! I can!
But what if I were to consider just a smooch or two? It could be just that. An enjoyable interlude without all the baggage.
Maybe I'll agree to meet him tomorrow night. Just for a drink.