Apparently, I'm getting old...

I went to Homecoming at my alma mater last weekend and I pretty much knew I was getting old after being there.  Certainly, the reason I felt older could be that college students seem only to get younger.  But, this time it was because I found myself becoming my parents.  And here's why...

What is with writing on the back of a pair of shorts or pants?  Ladies, I offer the following observations before you don such a pair of pants.  First of all, if your ass is big enough that I can see the whole word, then you really need to reconsider calling attention to it by having something plastered on your ass.  Second, if you are a big fan of your team, what does it say about them when you decide to put them on your rear and sit on them?  I once bought toilet paper with a rival team's mascot on it with the slogan, "The only place for a [opposing team mascot] face."  Putting the team or school on your bottom doesn't communicate support or spirit.

If you love your team or school, show it by putting it on your chest.  That's something we can all enjoy.

Cross One (or More) Off The List...

I received a thank you email from Neil this week, thanking me for his birthday gift. Yeah, Neil's good like that. (Although he still hasn't made me his blog crush of the day yet. Don't make me pull out the Jewish guilt Neil...)

But what stood out to me was this line: "You haven't posted much this month. I hope it is for good reasons and not bad..."

He's right. While I've been a relatively common commenter, I really haven't written here in quite a while.

And it's time I told you why.

Really, there are two reasons.

The first is I finally got a long-awaited transfer at work. In light of the first rule of blogging (and you have no idea how hard it has been not to break that rule), to paraphrase Forrest Gump, that's all I'm going to say about that.

But it's the other reason that I'm going to tell you about. And I have to admit, this is the reason I've kept hidden from you for a little while.

About a month and a half ago, I--with some trepidation--went on a blind date. I had been on a series of bad dates over the past few months, so I really wasn't expecting anything.

I could never have been more wrong.

My friend, S___, called me and told me that I needed to call this girl that she knew. After some minor arm twisting, I called her and left a message.

It was your standard first call message. Nothing too involved. Just a little joke about her outgoing message followed by "S___ suggested I give you a call. Call me back when you get a chance."

The next day she did. And the conversation flowed like a river.

After an hour, I finally said, "So, would you like to get drinks on Friday?" She accepted and we made plans. Nothing involved. Nothing committing. Nothing intimidating. Just a meet and greet. An opportunity to see if we found one another attractive and could keep the flow at the next level.

And did we ever.

When she walked in that Friday, I was amazed. Gorgeous blond locks. Skin beautiful as porcelain. A smile that lit up the entire place.

And those eyes. Those amazing blue eyes. She looked at me and those pools of clear blue water were simply mesmerizing.

The time flew.

My friends and I scheduled dinner later that night for the post-date wrap-up, but pulling myself away from her was clearly going to be a challenge. Our face-to-face conversation was just as amazing as our pre-date conversation. I really didn't want to leave.

And there was the fact that she nursed the same beer for two hours.

But alas, I had plans. And I learned that the first date really shouldn't be more than two hours. The hard way. A few weeks prior. Like I said, a series of bad dates...

So, I left, drunk on this woman of such amazing potential.

When I met my friends for dinner that night, I immediately got the question: "So, how was it?" The only words I could muster in response were, "She's incredible." And then my cautious nature stepped in and I added, "But let's see what happens on the second date."

***

I strategically called her the next Monday. Valentine's Day was Wednesday and I didn't want to get too close to that with someone I had just met, I was leaving town at the end of the next week, and I didn't want her to think I didn't have anything to do on the weekend. Just enough time to create anticipation, but not enough to forget about me.

Yeah. I'm a planner. Unfortunately, there were a series of events that put a wrinkle into the plans, but hey...I'm an adapter too.

This time I caught her at home. We had the obligatory small chat and then I broke out with it: "Listen, I had a really good time with you on Friday, but here's the deal. I'm getting sick [I was...it was awful], my car's in the shop [it was...it was expensive], and I'm leaving town in the middle of this week for the entire weekend [I did...it was unbreakable]. But I really would like to get together again. Is it okay if we do something next week?"

"Sure," she said, "that sounds great."

"Fantastic," I reply, "I'll give you a call next week."

And then, even though this conversation could have ended there, it didn't. Once again we talked for another hour and a half.

Like I said. Flowed like a river.

On Valentine's Day, despite my friends protestations to send flowers (friends, mind you, who don't have normal relationships...so not exactly people I look too for dating advice), I sent her a text. Something small to let her know I was thinking about her on Valentine's Day, but something that minimized the day. And, as you know, I'm not a fan of Hallmark-dictated romance anyway.

She responded in kind. It expressed interest, but wasn't overbearing, sweet, but not desperate, funny, but didn't look like she was trying. Yep. It was the perfect email.

That next Sunday, I was on my drive back from my trip and I called her up.

"Hey there!"

"Hi!," she exclaimed, clearly happy to hear from me.

Once again we started with the obligatory small talk, but then I moved in.

"Look, I know we talked about getting together this week. Are you busy Wednesday?"

"No, I think Wednesday will work for me."

"Great," I said. "You may remember I mentioned I have tickets to that traveling Vegas show. Well, that's on Wednesday. And I can't think of anyone I'd rather take than you."

She accepted. To tell you something about this lady, when I mentioned I was a little tired as I was driving, she stayed on the phone with me, keeping me talking for two hours, so that I would be awake. She told me later that she enjoyed the conversation, but that's the kind of thoughtfulness that's just her.

To make an already long story shorter, it was an enchanting second date. There was flowers (note that they were at an appropriate time), hand holding, laughing, and a little polite kiss goodnight. All in all, it was storybook.

And since that night, things have developed fabulously.

***

I've always wondered if something was wrong with me. My female friends (of which there are many) often say, "Guys are like parking spaces. All the good ones are taken or handicapped." And having been terminally single, I just figured I was a "special" space. As in, permit special.

Over the past month and a half, I realized how wrong I was. I discovered I have things to offer, that someone can think of me with the same admiration, amazement, longing and sweetness with which I think of them. I've discovered I can have that romantic connection I see between so many of my friends. The comfort. The thinking in unison. The desire to spend every moment of every day with that person. The sense that, even when you've only been apart for hours, you feel as though you're reunited when you see that person again.

I've discovered that I too am entitled to a good-night kiss.

And I've learned all of this because of the most beautiful, sweet, angelic, amazing woman I've ever met.

I've gotten to enjoy so many things about her. How she's both an amazing woman and a little girl at the same time. How she thinks of me with small things, just to let me know she cares. How she and I both reach for one another's hand whenever we're within five feet of one another. How when I wink at her, she tries to wink back and even though she can't wink, the result is both hilarious and sexy at the same time. How she laughs with her whole body. How she gazes at me when I look at her. How she enjoys spending time, just on a swing. How we just "fit."

So, yeah. I haven't been writing for a good reason indeed.

It's because that list I posted yesterday has changed.

Item 48.

I've had a second. And I've had a first that's loved me back.

Days of future past...

The other night I was out at a bar with one of my friends and a few of her friends. When a couple of her friends showed up with an attractive, albeit less than brilliant, girl, I took the opportunity to practice my flirting skills. I knew that it wasn't going anywhere, but figured that it was as good a way to pass the time as anything else that evening. And that belief was confirmed when I learned this girl was more than a decade my junior.

My friend was rather merciless in her later criticism since I had spent so much time talking to a girl who, as she said, "has no more than three brain cells that are constantly at war with one another." Certainly, this girl wasn't a genius by any means, and one of the most attractive qualities I find in a woman is a sharp intellect.

However, as I talked to this girl, I was fascinated by something about her, although I couldn't figure out what it was at the time. Only later did it occur to me that what I found so intriguing about talking to this girl was that in a very real way, this girl had her entire life ahead of her.

As a young adult, who has chosen my career path and likely will stay in the same profession or something related to it for the rest of my life, I take that part of my life for granted. I'm always going to either practice law or engage in some related profession. I'm always going to have things related to work and I'm always going to have to travel on vacations.

However, this girl hadn't made that choice yet. She wasn't tied down by her job, her professional development, and, most importantly, her bills. She has all these hopes and dreams and plans that she was---or at least believed she was---on the cusp of fulfilling. She had places she wanted to see, things she wanted to do, concepts she wanted to learn, people she wanted to meet.

And for someone who sometimes feels they spend each morning heading to the salt mines, in many ways, this was refreshing. Listening to this girl's anticipation and joy when considering her life ahead was a feeling I had forgotten and her excitement was almost contagious.

So, while this flirtatious conversation may have made me the butt of my friend's jokes, I really didn't care. This conversation was worthwhile, even if it was just the pleasantness of seeing a part of myself I've lost in someone else, and even it was in someone I'll probably never speak to again.