Oh, yeah, it’s good!

You all had better start by reading my latest blog post. This one’s a sequel.

So, after I heard from my childhood sweetheart on my birthday just over a week ago, several days passed and I heard nothing. I gave up. Story of my life. Whatever.

A lot of the pain I was going through had to do with crap I’d been through back when I knew him. Almost none of it was stuff I’d blame him for.

I was so distressed that I wound up sending him some mean messages, and then blocking him. Whatever, anyway. Meg never gets the guy. That only happens for other people. Not me.

Then I felt guilty, so I deleted all the mean messages (they weren’t that mean, just indicating that I felt hurt) and unblocked him.

So today, a week later, I got a message from him saying:

Hi, how are you? 

I think I did a double-take.

I wrote back thusly:

I’m great!! How’re you? 

And then, as he hadn’t read that message yet, I added:

I suppose you’re concerned about all the deleted messages I sent. I’ll just be honest!! I reached a place in 2005 after living in Georgia for a year where I realized that my dad was the only person who’d ever cared about me. Extreme paranoid awareness like that is hard to come back from!! I need lots of reassurance that people aren’t just going to disappear. That probably sounds like a hassle, but after a few years if it takes someone a week to get back to me, I trust that person. That always makes me happy. I do have some great friends who I’ve spent years coming to trust. And I believe I’m worth the investment because I’m very caring, loyal, supportive, and committed.

A few hours later at 9:00 PM, I believe upon reading my message, this was his response:

Yes, I was a little puzzled, but more upset with myself for missing them. I can understand worrying about being ghosted or caring about someone more than they care about you. I have known and loved you for a long time, Meg. I know I haven’t always had the maturity to express that care. The failing was a result of my own trauma. I can only assure you that I have no intention of ghosting. And I don’t play games. I enjoyed our conversation the other night, and I meant every word I said. How was your week? Have any plans for the weekend?

I lost the use of my hands. And then I dropped my cell phone. I heard a clatter and wondered what had fallen.

Despite my malfunctioning body parts, I managed to grab my cell phone (why was it on the floor?!) and type a response:

Wow! I love you, too! Thanks! 

We then talked online for the next four hours. And now that brings us to 1:00 in the morning.

I’m still just like… well, I’m stupefied, honestly. I’m like… speechless. I’m like… yeah, I’m still zoned out. I’m like… holy [bleep]. Uhh…

I’m just… uh… uh… what?… what?… who?…

I’m just… what?… what?… who?…

Yeah, I’m having issues. 😀 I think I’m spazzing.

It fills my heart with joy that he’s always loved me. I’ve always loved him, too. This will sound corny, but when we were kids, I was living in an abusive home; and whenever he’d come over with his mom and brother, he’d come find me and we’d play together, and he just lit up the room. I felt from a very young age that he was a soulmate of mine and that we were destined to know each other. Things got way more complicated when we were teenagers, I think largely because we were in the same youth group, and there was a lot of… I don’t know… image-consciousness. Being a teenager is hard.

It feels like… I don’t even know. I attended a really horrible middle-school ukulele concert earlier this evening at a local church. It was two solid hours of middle-school students strumming the same four chords repeatedly. Fortunately, the songs were interspersed by the teenagers’ lost deep thoughts:

What if we were all made of paper? There’d be less flatulence, but matches would still be scary. If you were mad at someone, you could give them a paper cut. 

I’m not making this up. The concert was that bad. And the best song played with the ukuleles was “Count on Me” by Bruno Mars. There was a soloist. God bless that child.

About twelve songs in (out of fifteen), I finally whispered to my dad that I was going to the restroom. (I wasn’t going to the restroom.) I raced downstairs to the church’s foyer and looked all around trying to find, well, an escape of any kind. A doorman was there. “Are you looking for anything in particular, madam?” he asked.

“No, I’m just pretending to,” I deadpanned.

He frowned at me.

“I mean, um, I just needed to get away,” I admitted. “Not that the music isn’t wonderful, but…”

He scowled.

“And who doesn’t love the ukulele? I mean, other than the native Hawaiians. And Bruno Mars, apparently, who probably never intended for his music to be interpreted with ukuleles.”

I think he wanted to strangle me.

I grimaced and ran outside. Free at last! And then I found my brother and his wife over in the church’s playground with my one-year-old nephew. Relief flooded through me as I realized that my ordeal was over. If they could hide from their own preteen’s performance, then so could I.

♥♥♥♥♥♥

I wrote all that a few days ago. Nick and I went out last night, and he was very seductive. I feel soiled. I feel dirty. I feel like a woman.

It’s a really good feeling.

I’d always felt like the universe was aligning something great for me, but I’ve also never really believed that. It seemed like a stupid fairy tale. Like, yeah, right, whatever. Now, I’m a believer! Love is real.

While we were walking on the pedestrian bridge that spans the Ohio River, he said he likes firsts. I told him he was my first kiss. (We’d just engaged in a heavy make-out session in his truck.) He seemed shocked by this, thinking that I’d just kissed someone for the first time, but then he remembered that we used to make out all the time when we were kids. Yeah.

I heard back from him today, and he actually sent me an X-rated message that I won’t bother to share here. It made my day!

And he likes my colorful bedroom! It makes him think of getting in touch with your inner child.

I have concerns going forward. He could be on the rebound, as he broke up a few months ago. And what if he and I have a communications breakdown? What if he’s too extroverted, or I’m too introverted? But I feel loved and seen and valued. That’s what I’ve always wanted. I’m sort of in shock. So was my sister when I told her. I’m kind of excited.

Every time I consult the Tarot about this, I draw the Devil. It can definitely have some bad meanings, but it can also refer to a sexual revolution. Um. Yes. Finally.

I just hope that he can be someone who stays in my life for the long haul. I value such people beyond measure.