Tag Archives: young gun

A New Pace: Smitten

Smitten: be strongly attracted to someone or something.

That’s the definition of smitten (well, smite actually but who’s splitting hairs). According to that particular definition, I suppose I am smitten at this juncture. Weird to say–even weirder to feel.

They say the best way to get over a man is to get under another one. Personally, I find that to be stupid advice. Luckily (even though it felt pretty unlucky at the time), I had the opportunity to get over a man the hard way–alone. And while I still hold gentleman callers waaaaaay far away, I must say this particular one has me…well…you know.

Recognizing the error of my ways previously, I am making no rush moves or quick judgements. I am still very much seeing other people. I do not change plans or make major attempts to make room. I also don’t make excuses nor do I hide who I am. He seems to be ok with it (well, except the seeing other people part) and the strangest thing keeps happening….he accepts me as is. It is a nice change of pace.

No egg shells. No dirty laundry. No pressure. When we talk, time flies. When we find ourselves together, smiles beam. We converse about nothing but everything: the importance of South Park, the heart of living life to the fullest, just letting go and doing, sports, hurt, love, and Family Guy. Nothing hard or harsh. No ridiculous expectations. What ever is just is. Stolen glances and shy smiles…it’s all so sweet. Such a delightful pace.

I keep reminding myself that it’s ok to be smitten. There is nothing wrong with it at all as long as all lines are drawn and no boundaries are crossed. I have to keep telling myself I deserve to smile (which is often because it appears I have been doing that quite a bit lately). It is funny, really. The smiles and the blushing and the giggles and the bubbly. He isn’t the reason for any of it. He is an addition to it. How’s that for growth? 😛


Young Gun: Yoga Pants and Boy Stink

Ever decide to go against the grain and find yourself in your Friday cleaning clothes smelling of sweat & boy deodorant stink on a sorta-date? No? Never? Hmmm….Perhaps that’s just me.

Friday evening I found myself at the Old House packing up and throwing away. The plan was not to stay there for hours. The plan was quite simple: pick up kids from school, drop them off at The He’s house, do a little damage for about an hour, hug goodbye (uh…the kids…The He isn’t included in displays of affection), and go home to get dressed.

I had the perfect outfit all primed and ready to go. A cute little gray and black number with my fave pair of five inch black booties would suit the occasion just fine: Me Time. No, I wasn’t celebrating anything really…just a sorta coming up for air is all. A cute dress, some good eye make up, glossed lips, an amazing salad paired with a chilled glass of wine and a comfy bar-side seat was just what the Friday Teen/Pre-teen Child Free Doc ordered.

The He came to the Old House with a packing plan hatched. I had no formal plans, no dates to worry about canceling (just Me Time…sigh) so I stayed and moved and sweated and packed.

By 8:00pm I had worked up a sweat and all of us had worked up an appetite. Off to get food The He and I go. My phone rings and to my surprise its Young Gun. He wants to see me. Now? I look awful, I say. Ok, so, he says. He had sort of a bad moment at work and wanted to hang….with me. Yoga pants, dirty t-shirt and all.

I mentioned the fact that I looked like I had just left a random late night Wal-Mart excursion, but he seemed not to care. Besides, we are just friends and friends see one another in all sorts of get ups. Yoga pants and dirt t-shirts wouldn’t be the worst thing a girl could wear.

I put on the only deodorant stashed away in the car…Kid 1’s Right Guard sport something. The girly smelling Dove I kept in the car had disappeared. I found a practically empty bottle of girly lotion and attempted to cover up the boy stink deodorant. Not a great sorta-date first impression, but it was better than flat out stinking.

The moment I saw Young Gun, the terrible outfit and boy stink dissipated. No, not because he took my breath away in that Nicolas Sparks movie kinda way, but because I felt completely comfortable and accepted. It also didn’t hurt that when he saw me he said “You had me worried. I thought you’d be all tore up….but u still look pretty to me”.

We spent the next hour laughing and talking in the late summer night air. No make up. No heels. No dress. No perfume. No Spanx. Just me. Just little old me, giddy about the pumpkin spice latte and the good company.

With every passing day I am learning to accept myself where I am, how I am, why I am and who I am. And not that it matters much what Young Gun accepts of me or thinks, but that night I felt light….free. For him, in that moment, the bells and whistles didn’t quite matter. All he wanted was company…my company…sweaty tee, boy stink and all.