Sugar

I am starting to see that I have lived alone long enough that shacking up is going to be...interesting.

I got up this morning, made coffee, poured my cup, added cream, then...aak! The sugar bowl was empty! No sugar in the cupboard, either. Dammit, coffee's no good without lots and lots of sugar! AAAARRRRRGGGHHH!!!

I knew I was running low. I even had it on the shopping list. I figured that if I ran out before grocery day (tomorrow), I'd stop by the convenience store on the way home from work and get some. I knew I'd know before I ran out, as I had enough to fill the sugar bowl once more, so I didn't worry about it.

Except that T did the 'right thing', and filled the sugar bowl when it got empty. Had I noticed him doing so, it wouldn't have been a big deal. However, I didn't see, so I hadn't bothered to get more, 'knowing' that there was that last little bit.

Sigh.

Spill

Well, a whole evening without T. This may actually kinda suck.

He is at his own home, as his roomie's daughter is having a birthday party. Apparently she's pretty attached to him. It's interesting that he feels a certain sense of responsibility toward her. I like that. It's a good sign.

Funniest thing, one minute I worry that he might be getting into my head, next thing, I'm agreeing to shack up. I think perhaps he put something in my coffee that morning. The worst bit is that I'm not even having second thoughts - I am excited to start moving the furniture around.

Since our little tiff, we have had conversations about a few things. It went much better, though I probably still lack tact. He is going to try to learn not to get defensive when I have 'that tone', which sets him off, but may or may not actually mean I am annoyed.

I noticed that in the last couple of days, he has started picking up his empty beer bottles and putting them in the recycle bin, set out a new bar of soap in the bathroom when the old one finally dissolved, and laid a (machine washable) blanket down on the couch before sitting down in his filthy work clothes. There's hope, at least.

We have started establishing little routines. We go for long drives and longer walks on Saturdays (if he's not working) or Sundays. Somewhere away from town, places with trees and water. We wander riverbanks looking for pretty stones. He waits patiently while I take pictures, and only rolls his eyes about half the times I point the camera at him. Recently, we have started going to the pub near my house and playing pool. When I cook, he washes the dishes.

He is starting to fit more comfortably.

The other morning, we were standing in the kitchen, and he came up behind me and gave me a hug. I turned to face him. He always looks away when our eyes meet when we're doing that. He says it makes him feel 'mushy'. This time, he looked down at me and told me he was afraid I might be 'the one'. **melt**

This might just work out okay.

Absence...

...really does make the heart grow fonder.

I was gone on a conference for work last week, and, whaddya know, but I missed T. Quite a bit, actually. And he missed me, too. After one particularly draining day, all I really wanted was to curl up in his arms. Instead, I phoned, and we agreed to do that when I got home. And we did.

Sunday morning was a lay-in-bed kinda morning, something we've never really done before. We snuggled on the bed, just chatting about 'stuff'. Stuff like hopes and fears and goals, the deep things that don't really just come out in conversation. As we were chatting, my head on his chest, I realised I haven't felt that close to someone in a long, long time.

Then he brought up moving in together.

That one was slightly shocking. Shocking-good, mind you, but it came as something of a suprise to me that he would want to step things up, somehow. I've spent too many years around commitment-phobic guys, I suppose. I told him I needed a little more time, but by the end of the conversation, we had pretty much agreed on August.

Oh, my.

Communication

Well, after a couple days' break, we went out last night. Not really a typical date - clothes shopping and dinner - but fun. We chatted about random stuff. Including the fact that he had screwed up his courage and asked his boss for a raise, and that he had a plan for dealing with the psycho roomie.

Oh, and that I hate it when he leaves his dirty work clothes on the bathroom floor, and don't appreciate picking up after him.

Then we came home and had great sex.

Funny how communication seems to facilitate these things.


I am really not quite sure what to do about this guy. I don't know if I am overly prepared to write him off, if this is growing pain that is normal in a new relationship, or if there really are legitimate concerns. I have no concept of what a healthy new relationship really feels like. It's been too long, and I think I am getting cagey about having someone in my life and inside my head. Maybe I am less tolerant of quirks, having been more-or-less happily on my own for several years. I am afraid of losing my sense of independence, the feeling that if he disappears, things will keep chugging merrily along, with a slightly adjusted weekend routine, which is how out-of-town dating seems to go for me.

When Mr. Wonderful and I broke up, it took years for me to feel like I was really going to be okay on my own. I don't think I have given anyone a fighting chance since then.

Whether T is 'the one' or really only the fourteenth is pretty immaterial. It boils down to what I can cope with, how vulnerable I am willing or able to be. I know it can't go anywhere if I don't allow it, but I gotta admit, it sure ain't easy...

Backbone.

T. has a crazy roommate. Not in the 'crazy-cute' way, but in the 'crazy-psycho' way.

T's roomie refuses to give him a housekey, even though he is paying rent. She is apparently quite upset with the amount of time he hasn't been spending at home. T thinks she is lurking in their flat, waiting for him to come home so she can pick a fight.

My first thought: you don't have a key to YOUR OWN HOME?!?

T just looked sheepish and shrugged.

T has been sleeping at his parents' place rather than going home, because he doesn't want to deal with a pissed-off roommate.

My second thought: where is your backbone, sweetie?

My third (and most concerning) thought: if you can't deal with a pissed-off roommate, and go so far as to buy new clothing rather than going home in order to avoid a fight...what is going to happen when I actually get mad about something?

Hmmm.

Forgetting

They say that if women could accurately remember the pain of childbirth, no-one would ever have a second child. I have no experience with that sort of thing, but I am thinking that if I ever remembered the pain of dating, I would never have another boyfriend.

It's not even pain, so much as pain-in-the-ass. With M., it was that he never put the toilet seat down. With Mr Wonderful, it was that he was forever dragging home stray cats that our landlady didn't allow, and we couldn't afford the vet bills on anyway. Little things. But annoying.

Like when I see the results of T drying his not-quite-clean hands on my good hand towels.

Or when he washes the dishes, but doesn't dry them or wipe the counter.

And then there's the interpersonal crap. The differing beliefs or expectations or communication styles. The misunderstandings.

Last night, we were laying in bed. I have some health problems that were bothering me. He asked if I was in pain, and I said 'yes'. He started tossing out 'solutions' that 'we' were going to use to make me 'better'. I stated that they would not work. I neglected to mention that I knew this for fact because I had tried them. He told me I was defeatist.

I told him to never, ever, make blanket statements on topics he knows nothing about.

I managed to haul my 'defeatist' ass through a dozen countries in as many months, at age 29, solo, after everyone told me I was crazy to go to Africa and the Middle East alone. I have survived, and left, abusive relationships. I work in a male-dominated, demanding job in a place where women are expected to be barefoot and pregnant. I managed to complete one entire degree. Defeatist. Hrumph. T clearly has a lot to learn about me. I can't currently think of a more offensive thing someone could say to me...

That one little comment still has my blood pressure up. And I'm still trying to figure out which bit of Sunday's conversation lacked tact...

Tiff

T loves his Scrabble. He goes to competitions, and actually practices daily. He writes out lists of words to memorise, and has an anagram program on his computer that he uses to help him study. His next competition is in June.

I think it's pretty cool. People who are passionnate about things (even things I don't really care about) are just more interesting to spend time with.

However.

However, it seems like we have been spending entirely too much time sitting side-by-side on the couch, him practicing Scrabble, and me playing video games. Sometimes, after a long day at work, this is a necessary thing, and it's a relief that he doesn't feel ignored when the only thing I want to do is spend some quality time with Civilisation III. But I don't want it to become a routine.

This weekend, T was doing his Scrabble thing, and I was puttering around the house, cooking and cleaning and organising - weekend stuff I like to do. I wasn't fussed that he was playing, as he had worked 6 days last week, and overtime most of them, to boot. I kind of planned to pamper him a little.

Every time I got going on something, though, he got up to help.

I got annoyed - I felt like I was guilting him into doing housework, but really I just wanted to get a few things done. I did not want his help. I did not expect him to do anything.

I bit my tongue at first, but brought it up a little later, when I wasn't feeling so snappy. Told him I didn't want to feel like I was coercing him into helping, but didn't want to sit on my ass all day, either. While I was at it, I mentioned that maybe we should spend time together when we wanted to see each other, and not get caught up in the side-by-side computer games...Suggested he stay home on nights that he really wanted to focus on Scrabble practice.

T seemed pretty upset.

Later, he mentioned that it would be easier to have these discussions if I were more tactful about it.

I forsee a problem.

Tact and subtlety really aren't my strong suits. Not that I'm a jerk about things, but I tend to be quite direct. Direct like: "This is bothering me. This is why. Here's what I propose we do about it" sort of direct. Apparently, this is disturbing. I am not quite sure how to word things much more 'nicely' without missing the point of whatever I was trying to say.

Aah, well. In the end, we agreed that when we're together, we will do things together, and save the computers for the wind-down hour before bed. Hopefully, problem solved...

Goodbyes

I took down my profiles on PoF and Lava awhile ago, and have been cheerfully broadcasting that I have a real actual boyfriend to pretty much everyone. There were some loose ends left to tie up, though.

I finally got ahold of Mr UK this morning. It made me late for work, but was a necessary conversation. He was talking about booking tickets to meet in Chicago...which was the plan a couple months ago, but isn't quite right, anymore, with T in the picture.

Mr UK took it well. Better than I expected, actually. Said he was happy for me. Wanted to know about T. Congratulated me. Asked if he'd still see me in July when he comes to town. I said "of course, but T may want to join us". Mr UK said he understood.

He commented that if we had lived in the same region, or even the same country, we'd probably be dating, but sounded pretty philosophical about it.

When we said goodbye, he said he loved me.

I told him I loved him, too.

And, you know, in its own way, it's true. Not in the "let's get married" sense, but Mr UK has been in my life for a long, long time, and there is definitely a special relationship there. I am relieved that he can accept the situation, and grateful that our friendship will continue, albeit on a different level.

It was a little bittersweet, though.

Girly

I am not a girly girl.

As a teenager, I routinely got mistaken for a boy. Actually, that happened well into my twenties. I grew my hair and nails long so people would have visual cues, then I got fat and grew breasts, rendering all that a moot point anyways. I wear jeans and tank tops. I shop for shirts and shoes in the men's section out of necessity - I am an attractive girl, but not a little girl, and size 11 ladies' shoes are hard to come by. I do not spend huge amounts on clothing. I could care less about fashion. Motor oil does not wash out of $150 jeans any better than $40 ones. Being feminine just isn't practical.

T appears to be turning me into a girl. A girly girl.

I own makeup, for the three or four occasions a year I have to wear it. For some reason, I had the impulse to wear some a couple of nights ago. T had never seen me wearing makeup before. T was extremely vocal about how impressed he was. He said he does not generally like girls wearing makeup, and prefers the natural look (thankfully), but thought I looked phenomenal (huh?).

Likewise, I have a pair of super-comfy capri pants. I wear them when I am doing housework. T thought they were fantastic. Said so several times. Grabbed me and pulled me down on top of him on the couch to demonstrate how great he thought they looked. When we went out for dinner later that evening, I wore them out, with a pair of high-heeled sandals. T couldn't stop looking at my ass, and said so.

I went shopping yesterday. Now, shopping is not unheard of in my world; I am always happy to go to Home Hardware and pick up a few new tools. However, I went shopping for makeup and clothing. Pretty stuff. Capris. High heels. Mascara and lip gloss.

My fashionista sister is going to love this guy. Everyone else is going to wonder what the hell he's done to me. Including, possibly, me.

The things we do for love...

Disclosure

T is an honest sort of guy. He doesn't seem to mind discussing any topic, now that the shyness has passed. I admire that.

There are parts of my history that, while I am not ashamed of, I can't say I am itching to share with a prospective long-term partner. Who I am still in the stage of wanting to impress.

T has shared some lass-than-savory details of his past, and although I am not going to end things over this, it does make me stop and think.

Then, I read this. It made me think (thank you, T-shirt, for making me think, again). I decided that I didn't want to have to worry about T finding my blog, or finding out about my history from someone else.

So, this morning, over coffee, I told T about Mr UK and M. Not all the details, of course, but enough. I told him that although I don't really intend to have any contact with M, Mr UK remains a good friend, and will still be part of my life. That Mr UK may be staying here, at my house, in June. That T is welcome to be here for the whole time, if it makes him more comfortable with the situation. Of course, Mr UK doesn't even know about T yet - that's a project for this weekend.

I don't know why I was worried. Moonbeam was quite prepared to distance himself from me, in order to make sure T didn't get jealous...thoughtful of Moonbeam, but the idea disturbed me. When I mentioned that conversation to T, he was apalled. He told me in no uncertain terms that I should not be losing friends over this relationship.

Right answer.

He did it again this morning. He said that he felt I was interested enough that he wasn't worried. I told him that a person can say they won't cheat as many times as they want, but it means nothing without the behavior to back it up. T said he believed me. Said he wasn't at all concerned. I could have kissed him. In fact, I did. Several times. What a relief.

Another week.

Well, it has been another week of T, and although I have to admit he slides admirably easily into my life and routines, I am not sure where he fits in my head.

T. has never heard of half the music I listen to. He is forever saying "Who is this? I think I like them". Another common one is "What does that word mean? How do you spell it? I think it might be a [Scrabble] bingo". He certainly appreciates my intelligence. He is very respectful of my privacy and my space. But he is in it.

I spent seven years building up my home, full of MY things, done up the way I like it, and only allowing a very few good friends in. Apparently I have done the same with my head. Every now and then, I realise...omg, this guy is creeping in. My instinct is immediately to push him away, keep him at arm's distance. I love and hate that I can just call him anytime I want a hug and he'll be here in half an hour. Mind you, he is pretty much always here anyway, doing dishes after dinner or bringing me coffee in the morning. Good things that are a little disturbing because of their intimacy.

I went for drinks with Moonbeam last night, specifically to tell him about T, just in case. Moonbeam swears he just wants a friendship, which is perfect. He felt he should enlighten me about the inside of the male mind, however, and warned me that the L-word will likely get tossed into play in about 6 weeks. Given the situation, I wonder if it will take T that long, and hope he can/will hold back on that one. T is already routinely telling me how lucky and thankful he feels for having met me. He asks if I am always this nice, tells me I am beautiful. He is rather demonstrative, verbally and physically, which again is something of a mixed blessing. I do enjoy it, but...But.

I declared last night a night off again. I am thinking of doing the same tonight. T has spent the last several years alone, but I don't believe it was by choice. I guess I haven't been especially alone, but I have carefully arranged my life so that no-one, especially no man, can interfere with my freedom and independence and comfort. It is disturbing to realise I have cooked proper dinners every night for close to two weeks. I usually eat leftovers or a bowl of oatmeal.

Poor T may be getting a neurotic basketcase that he hadn't bargained on...but I am still doing my best not to shoot myself in the foot...