Bodies

Happy Memorial Day, America. My weekend has somehow flown by and I can touch and feel its quick departure. Friday night I met my new dear friend Dacel at Hop Devil on St. Marks for cheap happy hour and the plot got thick super quick wherein she landed in some asshole guy's bed and shortly thereafter (ugh) he kicked her out...she lost her work laptop along the way. I knew she was slightly drunk but not to that end, and so of course I felt like a complete fuck face when she called me later to tell me all of this. I pleaded with her to come to my apartment where I was sitting on my stoop soaking in the evening and she grabbed a cab and arrived not long after, and we hugged and she cried it out and her pain sat palpable between us. She did not deserve by any stretch of any imagination to be dicked over by this person that we met at Hop Devil that we both felt seemed genuine and kind. Easy to be fooled. He didn't even ask for her number.

Saturday morning found me sleeping glorious amounts of sleep despite the beer the night before. I so rarely drink beer anymore because it gives me night tremors yet I was able to sleep and sleep, a condition I'm experiencing lately that is far more pleasurable than in days far gone. I'm, in fact, relishing in sleep. I'm so at peace, so far removed from my problems, in sleep. Dreams do happen but they hold hands and dance with my peace, so I'm unafraid of this newfound experience of desiring to sleep.

Then there's what happened on Friday.

I'm backtracking slightly, because I didn't begin with the chronology of events correctly. Who cares, right? This is my memory to scribe.

The boy is charismatic and so new to my life but so uncommunicative. I mean this in a general context because I will text and text and email all day long to everyone that I know and love (working in an office enables that luxury, I suppose) but he literally just...doesn't communicate often. I don't know if this is because he works in a tech environment which commits him to an exorbitant amount of tech communication on a silly often basis or what? I already know he isn't a man of few words...not in person, at least.

Anyway, I had been emailing/texting with one of my best friends who was basically like, Don't be foolish, don't lead him to think you're not interested. Clearly I'm interested but maybe I am not making it clear? How does one make this thing clear? Throw myself at him and to what capacity? I was going around in carousel circles in my brain when right before a meeting I needed to run at 10.30 Friday I received an email response from him regarding lots of different things I had emailed but embedded within was this:

If you have the time, would you like to spend some time chatting about the ridiculous things we end up chatting about this weekend? Perhaps with an artisan pizza and a movie? Your choice, of course. Let me know.

I rather nearly slid under my desk in a slushy pile because this inquiry marks literally the first time he has "asked me out." "Date." "That thing people do when they're courting one another." Whatever. And can I just say for the record? The last time I recall being asked on a date...I guess, a "first date"?...no recall of such a thing. So yes. This felt monumental and sent me soaring into my 10.30 which I was completely ill-prepared to run and couldn't and didn't but sat through and smiled like a giddy child throughout.

Chronologically speaking, let's get back to Saturday then.

There were texts back and forth (he was a texting machine! Unusual! What!) about his venture to visit his Mom in Jersey and his eventual return to New York City. He sent me an image from the farmer's market he was at with his Mom (why are these insignificant details so special to me?? who cares) and at some point he texted that he'd be on the train back to Penn to arrive at 6P and could I meet him at 6.40 at Carroll Street?

Of course. Of course, sweet boy. Ask and your wish shall be granted...

But what happened is for some reason, the skies opened up and dumped gallons upon gallons of rain upon me, for maybe like 20 minutes. So I was 20 minutes late.

I took trains to Brooklyn, transferring, and so forth, and when I emerged at Carroll Street I was listening to "A Case of You" (Joni Mitchell) and was running late but had to finish that song, and so I did. And when I arrived at the intersection of Court and President Streets, where he had texted me to meet him, he took two strides to me and kissed me on the mouth and thus began our "first date," as I'm calling it, regardless of the number of times we've seen each other.

The word "amazing" is clearly overused. Fine. But I don't know what else to borrow in terms of verbiage?

We ate pizza and drank wine, then walked. Talked. Held hands. Noticed each other. He carried my leftovers box. He stopped sometimes, turned to look at me and would say something about anything. We talked about everything (we always tend to do.)

We passed by a wine store, and he said, "Do you want to stop and pick up something, some wine?" and I earnestly didn't want to, and I said, "No, we're okay."

(insert: KB didn't want wine with the movie??? This is basically how intense this is, if she didn't want wine during the movie portion of the date. NOTED!!!!)

We arrived at his apartment, and he has two cats. They are beautiful. They are Phoebe and Emma. Emma, for the record, thinks I'm kick ass. Phoebe...no telling what's in her brain - I think she's slightly critical yet I still admire her.) :)

Anyway....we found a movie on his iTV or whatever and started it and he put his arm around me and it felt like I haven't felt in 9 million years. It felt sweet. I think I felt...I wish I knew the words. I think that as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close, I probably felt a romantic devastation that I wish I could explain.

The movie wouldn't complete for technological reasons so we kissed instead. :) But then when the movie really wouldn't start up again he asked me to go to his bedroom with him and I did and we slept for like 4 thousand hours. :)

I would love to document these moments. The ones wherein he would slide his arm over my shoulder and his fingers would find mine and entwine and we'd be one, right then.

Oh. But before we went to sleep, we talked endlessly. We tend to do that. We talked about so many things, desert islands and cheese and seltzer water and other things and I'm not sure if I have ever liked someone this much in so long.

While we slept, while he slept, I couldn't stop thinking about how lucky I am that this has happened. I'm still not placing stock in it because I can't fathom its end and I feel somehow like an end is inevitable.

There was rain, heavy rain. He pulled me close. I fell in love. I think I've fallen in love. Maybe for the first time in my life.