Love Is A Battlefield

Spring is rolling in and That Girl is beginning to realize how much has changed in a year... how much SHE has changed in a year. At this time last year, she was 70 pounds heavier, incredibly unhappy, in a dead in town with a job that just fired her... she was trying to survive. At the end of this very long and unseasonably cold winter, That Girl is anticipating spring with an anxiety she hasn't felt in a long, long while. To quote The Byrds' famous hit Turn turn turn, to every season, there is a change, and a time for every purpose under heaven. (okay, I removed all the "turn, turn, turns"... I think you got it smart folks!)

Things are changing and I'm always really insecure with change. I am a control freak and I like being able to at least have a finger on a situation if not both hands around it's neck. I have started a new job that came with its' fair share of challenges in the past weeks. And... sigh... there's a new man in my life. This alone brings an incredible amount of anxiety, insecurity and reckless thinking and day dreaming.

Let me introduce you to A. We met when I walked into that trashy little bar mentioned in the last post. He's a regular but before you get the wrong idea, he's there for the cheap booze and free entertainment... just like me. He's clean cut, handsome in a familiar way and was apparently immediately smitten as he watched me walk confidently into the bar, best friend, W taking the lead. As W walked up and said hello (she already knew A), she stuck out her hand to shake his. She was greeted with a disappointing smirk and open arms, an invitation for a hug. She obliged and I immediately became aware that he was whispering in her ear as he was leaned down and she is significantly shorter than he. I just had this feeling that he was asking about me. And he was. He introduced himself with a firm, soft skinned, handshake.

We stood having drinks and making idle chit chat for a good portion of the evening. I was really comfortable talking and joking around him which is highly unusual as it has been my experience that when I feel attracted to somebody the filter between my brain and my mouth that generally doesn't exist comes out of nowhere with a fierce vengeance and I can't seem to put a sentence together. It's as if all my years as an awkward teenager compound into moments of sheer stupidity and I end up looking like a total ass. But somehow, with A around, I didn't have a problem... making an ass out of myself! You see, as the evening neared to an end, A looked at both W and myself and said, "So, what are you ladies doing later?" to which I promptly responded without missing a beat, "Your mom if she's lucky!"

A, W and the others erupted with laughter and I became overwhelmed with embarrassment. I felt my face turning red, a shade of red that you can only find in the big box full of Crayolas. I immediately apologized... what if his mother was dead? Why do I always think that a "your mom" joke is appropriate humor? (Remind me to fill you in on the your mom joke shouted down the hallway of the high school I used to teach at when a students whose mother was on the school board yelled "What are we doing in class today?"... you do the math on how that one worked out!)

Within moments of A leaving the bar that night, he texted W and said, "Your friend is really cute." She of course told me about the text because that's what friends do. I smiled. He was cute, too.

The next evening, we went back to the same place and secretly I hoped that he would be there. He wasn't immediately but as we neared the end of our first drinks, he strolled in and right past us as he appeared to be looking for someone else and he was on his cell phone. Not wanting to appear... well, stupid... I didn't try to flag him down or anything. A few minutes later, there he was, sliding into the booth next to W, across from me. We chit chatted, discussed our plans for the evening and commented on the locals.

I'm not quite sure what it was or is, but somewhere between two sentences that were ending and beginning paragraphs, there was a line break, a moment of silence that was filled with my brown eyes meeting his. My stomach didn't flutter, my lady parts didn't quiver, my palms didn't sweat. Instead, my shoulders relaxed, my breathing slowed and so did my heartbeat. Somewhere between the period and the capital letter, there was a sense of peace that I've never felt before. I'm not sure that I blinked. I know that he didn't.

9 days, over a thousand text messages, a few hours of phone calls and an email later and I keep waking up with a smile on my face and fear in the back of my mind.

A lives 200 miles away. A didn't graduate high school although he is highly intelligent and tells me that he wants to go back and get his GED. A makes me think about things that I haven't thought about ever... like actually deserving love. A thinks I'm beautiful.

Sigh... I'm not THAT girl... the girl that swoons over men... the girl that ignores her head and lets her heart lead her feet... the girl that lets magic interrupt her paragraphs. Geez... it's only been 9 days and this guys gotta grip around my head already. Don't get me wrong... A isn't perfect by any means. In fact, there are a few parts of his past that aren't very appealing (nothing terrible, I promise!) but can I hold his past against him? Not unless I expect him to hold mine against me, I suppose.

It's spring... the season of love, or in this case, a really REALLY big like. I can't help but wonder... can I be that girl?

RENT: five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes... how do you measure a year in a life? how about love.