So Saturday I took The Skirt out and met some guys. Well, one of them I had met on previous occasions, back during the wildness that was known as summer I believe. Apparently he has been carrying a torch since then. With Queenie's encouragement, we ended up exchanging phone numbers. And here's the shock. He called on Sunday morning. To see if I actually had plans for Sunday. Until that phone call, I had planned on heading over to the usual spot wearing the leather pants. Why? Because Drummer Boy's band was playing there that night and I was going to torment him with what he was missing. Suddenly I didn't really feel like going out. Actually I rarely do on NYE because let's face it. It's amateur night. So I told Sports Guy (because that's his name for now) that it would be OK if he stopped by with a bottle of wine.
We sat around watching the Law and Order marathon, drinking wine, and talking. I now know his life story. And now we hit the "problems." He's 48. Yes, I know I am 40 but I do have a tendency to date guys who are younger than I. Then again, maybe that's what the problem has been. In his favor, he doesn't seem like a stick in the mud. Probably comes from his childhood of moving around quite a bit due to his dad's involvement in sports. But the real problem? He's nice. And seems to worship the ground upon which I walk. In the past guys like that have not lasted. Sure there's that initial joy at being adored but then that drowning feeling starts to come back. And somehow it's even worse if the guy is nice. Yeah, I know. I'm warped.
So if I was the type to make resolutions and all, mine would be to not trash this relationship. And don't look at me, saying that it is entirely too early to use that word. He's the one who said that he doesn't believe in becoming involved with someone unless he feels that he can make a commitment. Ewww. That's another ugly word.
Oh, and more fuel for the fire. When I was talking to him last night -- because hello, he calls daily -- he mentioned that he had talked to his parents. And told his mom about me. Gotta love that unique relationship between Southern men and their mamas. I know this because until her death, my dad talked to his mom daily. Good news? She apparently thinks that I sound wonderful, especially since I'm a teacher and because she was one before she got married. Bad news? Yep. Feeling that drowning sensation starting already.
Well, wish me luck and of course I will keep you posted.