I’m picturing you kicking back at your desk right now. The after lunch “God, this afternoon will never end” blahs are starting to hit you dovetailing nicely with the “I ate too much at lunch” fatigue. You thought about getting back to work, but decided to take a slight detour from being very nearly productive to check up on my antics.
You see, there’s a boy—well, a man, really. The friend who kept threatening to set me up last fall, succeeded in getting us into the same room on Thanksgiving. We joke that we made each other sick at first sight. He got weak at the knees and had to splash cold water on his face, and I could barely eat dinner for the nerves.
Being me, I told myself that it was never going to happen. I had a million reasons all ending with “because I’m dead inside.” But the boy was smarter… and stealthier. Rather than a date, he suggested mutual procrastination. We all know I can do that with the best of them.
And so it started.
I won’t say that we know all of each other’s secrets. I know there are still surprises in store for both of us. I’m not going to start posting up hearts and flowers stuff on my Facebook page to celebrate Valentine’s Day. I’m not leafing through bridal magazines, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never doodled my name linked with his on a three-ring binder. I’m not suddenly going to start giving you inspirational advice, or trying to fix your relationships because we’ve managed to cross the two month mark without killing each other.
What I will tell you is I’m glad I never settled. I’m glad I never let frustration push me in directions that I would have regretted. I think he marvels a bit that there was such a long gap between involvements. I tell him that I was waiting for him. And I think I was.
Never fear—my reactions to the absurdities of the Los Angeles singles scene remain strong. I will continue to opine, to judge, to gasp at the absurdity.
But I thought it was time to go public.
There’s a boy.
Looks like the Mayan thing was right after all.