Sticks and Stars

So I put the breaks on things with that guy I was dating, you know, the guy. I decided it was the best thing I could do before things spun out of control and I alienated him entirely.

See, here’s what I’ve been doing. On Tuesday we went out on a nice date. We dressed up, he brought me flowers, took me to dinner at a nice restaurant, etc. It was nice except for the fact that on our date, every single thing he did pissed me off. Every single thing. And because I am a mature and intelligent and rational person, I responded by pouting and refusing to converse with him during dinner, griping the whole way home, telling him I didn’t want him to come in to hang out afterward, and when he asked if he could kiss me goodnight, I firmly and repeatedly told him no.

I know, I’m such a romantic.

That evening, once I paid my babysitter and pulled off my tights, all I could do was sit on my couch with my head in my hands and ponder my behavior. I still felt angry, I still felt immensely annoyed at him, but when I tried to place exactly what he had done to warrant my anger and irritation, I came up with nothing. Except of course that he dares to like me. And actually admits to it.

I’ve been pondering what the hell is wrong with me for two days now and I’m still not sure, although based on what inspires me to start arching my back and hissing, I think it’s the threat of losing my life and losing myself in a partner, I think it’s the fear of the burden of having to attend to yet one more person’s emotional needs, I think it’s the fear of intertwining my life with someone else’s, only to be betrayed again (and this time my boys along with me). Whether these fears are rational or not, I can’t say. But they feel larger than life to some part of me and I can’t just pretend they don’t exist (even if I wanted to. For example, see description of Tuesday above).

This guy is a good guy. He’s all the things my brain wants for me. And he wants me too. I see no barriers to why our involvement wouldn’t become quite serious. Except that the very thought, the very act of typing those words, makes me want to run far away as fast as possible.

I thought maybe I would just run away. Maybe I would just stop talking to him and make excuses to not hang out with him until eventually he got the message and left me alone. But I felt really sad at that prospect. Some small rational part of my brain recognizes that I might be making a decision that I will regret later, some small rational part of my brain feels pretty certain about that, in fact. So instead I decided to try to explain myself and ask if we could be friends instead.

And so that’s where we’re at. My hope is that removing the pressure, that removing the threat will allow me to relax and open up and slowly get comfortable with the idea of more. I have no idea whether that will ever happen. I have no idea whether we’ll ever be more than friends, whether he’ll get tired of waiting for me, whether I’ll realize that my issues are about something else and he’s really not right for me, whether one or both of us will meet someone else between now and whenever, whether the earth will be struck by a meteor tomorrow. But I do know that I feel much better.

Of course, he’s not feeling so good. But he took it well.

I kind of feel proud of myself. Not only for taking my feelings seriously and respecting them, but also just for having these feelings in the first place. I am not going to be rushed into things. I am going to think through my choices and make sure they are right. I am not going to give in to pressure just because I (and others) think I should.

I visited a second school yesterday, this time my first choice. Whether it will remain my first choice, only three more tours can tell, but I did like it quite a bit.

This school is the most alternative of the alternative public schools, the one with no grades and no grade levels, the one that places a premium on interdisciplinary, experiential learning, the one where we were informed that they don’t teach kids to “be nice” to each other, instead they teach, “this is hate speech, this is oppression, these are the systems in place to keep people down.” While we waited for the tour to begin I perused a student-created bulletin board about gender stereotypes and feminism that was perched next to an announcements bulletin board that contained, among other things, a poster for an upcoming youth anti-war rally and a flyer for anti-Columbus Day t-shirts that were on sale.

Aside from my love of their overarching pedagogy (and my feeling that my son — who, I was recently informed by the director of his preschool, is “by far” the smartest kid in his preschool *preen, preen* — will be allowed to work at his own pace and won’t be squelched into some limiting definition of kindergarten or first grade or whatever), there were a million small things that I loved as well: the fact that they don’t play competitive sports in PE, they only play games that foster community and team building (when we visited the gym one group of kids was climbing their huge rock climbing wall and another group was working their way through a maze made out of cubicle partitions — and there were unicycles hanging on the wall!!); they only assign homework that really needs to be done at home, like determining the current phase of the moon or averaging the shoe sizes in your house or interviewing your family for a family history, no stupid busywork worksheets; every class takes at least two field trips a month, most take more, and many are crazy trips to places like San Francisco and Hawaii, all of which are funded by the fundraising efforts of their PTA to make sure that all families can afford to participate (if they can’t make it affordable for all families, they don’t do it); the art classes (among others) are molded around the interests of the kids — one art class was sculpting with clay, one class was sewing, one class was carving wooden boats (serious boat building), one art class was learning about graffiti art and was practicing on their playground retaining wall, one class was making linoleum prints except with something other than linoleum that I didn’t pay attention to because I was so enthralled by the boat building; all activities and classes are available to all kids regardless of their age, so long as they have the interest and necessary ability level to do the work (i.e. 5 year olds are not working the band saw). For example, an introductory Spanish class might consist of three six year olds, two ten year olds, and a fourteen year old, none of whom have studied Spanish before.

The diversity in the classrooms seemed a little less than the other school I visited, but there were still a decent number of kids of color in the classes we visited, and at least one teacher of color — a man even — and racism is clearly a big area of concern in school. At the other school I visited the walls were covered with art by and positive representations of people of color, but I never saw much evidence of how they actually implemented anti-racist or anti-oppressive education in the classroom. At this school it was quite obvious and discussed in a very frank and open manner. I definitely got the impression that these types of conversations were common enough to be fairly casual and routine.

A few other things I liked: three gardens on campus, two brand new science labs, the bulk of their field trips involving service learning, music options include private piano lessons.

Two small things that pleased me: 1) the guy leading the tour (parent? teacher? principal? really old student? He never introduced himself) stopped to chat with students as we walked around. Among other conversations, he asked a group of 13-14 year olds how they liked the book they were reading. One student complained that there was a lot of swearing in the book. The tour leader said, “Oh, I didn’t so much notice the swearing as the really excellent stories.” Good answer!

2) I brought my four year old (not a good choice in retrospect, but the tour sheet said kids were welcome and I liked the idea of him having some say as to his school choice) and during one classroom stop he became engrossed in the workings of a pencil sharpener. As we were leaving he stopped the tour guide to ask him what it was. I fully expected the guide to inform him that it was a pencil sharpener and to continue herding us on our merry way. But instead he stopped the tour without hesitation and said, “What is that? Well here, let’s take a look,” and then proceeded to locate a pencil, help my son find the right sized hole, show him how to turn the crank, open the sharpener to show him the grinding wheels, and discuss the falling shavings and resulting pointy pencil. We were in the middle of a tour, in the middle of leaving a classroom. It would have been perfectly acceptable for him to simply inform my son that it was a pencil sharpener and move on. But instead, without even a second thought, he stopped everything to show my son what it was. I loved that.

Of course, no school can be perfect and this one has its flaws. The one that bugged me most was the fact that many of the more interesting “elective”-type classes were offered by parents who happened to have some kind of interesting knowledge. That’s perfectly fine, but what happens when the kids of those parents go on to high school (the school is K-8)? What happens if all the parents leading cool classes are currently the parents of 8th graders and all of the remaining parents are duds? Of course, that’s not really likely to be the case, but still, having such a potentially inconsistent set of offerings bugs me a little. (Although at the same time I kind of like it. At the other school I visited, the tour guide lamented that they didn’t have French classes and how he’d like to start a program since he spoke French. At this school, they would have just started one and let him teach it).

I also found the school to be a little…disorganized? This was not a surprise to me considering the nature of the school (and my prior experiences in such settings) and it’s easily solved by making sure I stay in close contact with the school (which is something they expect of their parents anyway). I do like that it’s expected that I would be involved, that it’s expected that his learning at school will be a natural extension of what he’s learning at home and vice versa. Because that’s what my dream education looks like for my sons, the school and I being partners in developing voracious little learning sponges instead of the school being the teacher and me being little more than the homework enforcer.

Oh, and they don’t offer on-site before and after-school care. Which is kind of a biggie, although not insurmountable.

The next tour is Tuesday, my second-to-last choice school, and the school where my daycare providers’ daughters attend.

Today I toured the first of five schools in preparation for making The Choice, deciding where to send my son to kindergarten next year. I didn’t mean for it to happen this way, but I’m taking this sort of circuitous route around the schools, starting first with my least favorite, then my favorite, then my second-to-least favorite, then my second favorite, then ending with the one that’s right in the middle. It’s good that I started with my least favorite because if I started with my favorite and still liked it after the tour then my tricky little brain would start coming up with all these excuses as to why it’s not really necessary to take all that time off to go on all these tours, and so I wouldn’t and then every time I had the slightest issue with the school I chose I would stare longingly at that bright green grass on the other side.

But no, I inadvertently started with my least favorite and it was such a great school and I’d be so happy to have my son go there that now I’m dying to see how the schools I actually like measure up.

Far and away, what makes this school stand out is its art program. Art studios, dance studios, pottery studios, photography studios, studios freakin’ galore, with kids taking classes starting in kindergarten. I was amazed at the depth and breadth of the art classes available to kids and student artwork was everywhere and was beautiful. The lunch room was filled with gorgeous murals and the school offers, instead of an orchestra, a steel drum band (and guitar classes as well…and pianos in every classroom). We happened upon a band class and got to listen to a “practice” that was incredible.

What also makes this school stand out is the fact that it’s a K-12, the only one in our district. Over and over the kids and the teachers (random ones, not special tour selectees) talked about how they feel like they are part of a family, how close the community feels, how much everyone cares about everyone else. The assistant principal who was leading our tour said that it’s hard for the high school kids to be too “cool” when their kindergarten teacher is right there. The school has 580 kids and their senior class has 28.

Other things I like about the school are the fact that the grades are mixed (K-1, 1-2, 1-3, etc), the classrooms were almost shockingly multi-racial (I estimated about a third to half of the kids in every class we saw were some shade of brown — although all the teachers we met were white), the school places great emphasis on experiential learning, and the assistant principal told us that they filter everything they do at the school through a filter of social justice. Classrooms had an average of six computers and the library had two big classroom-sized banks of computers, and most classrooms also had a projector. Science and math classrooms tended to have more computers than average and they even had a graphic arts lab (again, more computers).

I entirely forgot to ask about academics and in particular, since they are a small school with limited resources (i.e. no advanced classes), how they deal with advanced learners or children who are learning outside their grade level. They are across the street from a traditional high school and we were told that kids who want to take advanced math and science classes during their 9-12 years can do it there, but I’d like to know what else they offer for younger kids who might otherwise be bored to death in class.

The only thing I really didn’t like about the school was the lack of resources. They only offer one second language option (Spanish) and they don’t offer it until high school and as I mentioned, they don’t offer advanced learning classes. The lack of language options (and an earlier start on language) bothers me more than the lack of advanced learning opportunities because in a school that small, I’m sure they’ve come up with ways to handle all levels of learning. The lack of language options does bother me though.

I was a little surprised at the other parents on the tour. I could hear them whispering about other schools and many of them were surprised to learn about the number of alternative public schools that exist in our part of the city. I guess not everyone researches every single school in the district and compiles classroom stats, test scores, demographics, media mentions, special areas of focus, tour dates and questions in a tidy google spreadsheet that can then be referenced at will.

This week’s soup of the week is potato. I was originally going to go with baked potato soup but by the time my potatoes were cooked I was in no mood to do any more work, so plain ol’ potato it is. And it was only after I finished my soup that I realized that oh! they call it “baked potato” soup because it’s made from baked potatoes. I was thinking only in terms of adding the traditional baked potato toppings at the end and I couldn’t understand why every recipe I read mentioned baking the potatoes first. Why not just boil them in the broth, I wondered idly, when it’s so much easier? And indeed, that is how my potatoes were cooked. So even if I hadn’t been too lazy to grate cheese and slice green onions and open a tub of sour cream, my soup would have merely been plain ol’ potato with traditional baked potato toppings added at the end.

Anyway, the soup turned out well although I can already see things I would change, like adding more half and half, adding something hot (like maybe a dash of cayenne or a bit of hot sauce), and perhaps celery with the onions. I’m finding that I’m becoming pretty good at this soup making business and am noticing what flavors work together well and what ingredients might make a significant difference to the end result. I should do the same thing with other foods, like make spaghetti with marinara every week until I manage to come up with the perfect marinara!

Eh. I’ll just stick with soup.

Yesterday I had another date with the guy. We were going to go to church but it was a bright sunny day so we decided to commune with the great outdoors instead and took our boys to a park. I suppose I shouldn’t really call it a date, especially when I think about the “real” date we have planned for Tuesday evening, one that involves reservations at a restaurant with cuisine bordering on the unpronounceable, me wearing a dress and putting up my hair, and him coming over afterward to…hang out. A good friend advised me that it is much too early to “give it up” so I am determined to be a good girl. I notice, however, that the virginal maid and the wanton harlot residing on my shoulders are having a shouting match that may soon degrade to fisticuffs and frankly, my money’s on the harlot.

Today was date #2 with the guy (which seems like an easier way of describing him than saying “that guy who I keep blogging about you know the one who’s hot with the son and who really really likes me that guy”). We took our boys to one of those “family fun” places with the go-karts and the mini-golf and the jumping castle extravaganza. Originally we were planning to take our boys tubing at a nearby mountain, but then it started snowing (on the mountain) and we were afraid of getting stuck. So voila, jumping castle extravaganza.

It was fun. And he is a really nice guy. He played with my boys endlessly, was a hopelessly good sport about the endlessness, and paid special attention to my one year old who really needs and deserves special attention. And of course, there was no question about working together to coordinate bathroom breaks, beverage retrieval, sock retrieval etc. God it’s nice to date another parent.

Our four year olds, of course, like each other greatly, but oh my god do they egg each other on! One of them does something, so the other one has to do it too. Or is inspired to do it too. Or is challenged to do it too. Whatever. Regardless, they were terribly adorable little copycats of each other. And they both are terribly adorable.

Afterwards we took our boys to a restaurant for dinner. They were all amazingly well behaved considering how tired they were after a long day and there were these two little old ladies near us who watched us with smiles and remarked to each other that we were, “such a nice family.”

He’s being very cautious with regard to things moving too quickly and is very good about not only checking in with me about my boundaries, but enforcing the ones I try to bend. It makes me happy that he is trying so hard, and it makes me really happy that he’s taking what I said so seriously. Have I mentioned that he’s such a nice guy?

He just sent me a text message saying that his son had asked, “We like them, don’t we?”

How I got so amazingly lucky as to meet a smart, funny, respectful single parent who wants the same things I do and shares a million interests with me, I’ll never know. I’m not exactly sure what a charmed life is, but sometimes I wonder if maybe I’m leading one. Sure there are sucky hard times, but damn there is some nice sweetness.

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve been making a pot of soup every week so that I have an easy (and cheap) lunch every day at work. I don’t follow any recipe, I just pick a legume, look up recipes to get a sense of how one might build a soup with said legume, and then strike out on my own. With the exception of week one’s cassoulet variation, my soups have been pretty good. The lentil with sausage and fresh spinach was really good. But this week’s black bean with cilantro and lime takes the cake. Tons of fresh cilantro and lime juice, crunchy corn to contrast with the creamy beans, enough spices to give it a nice warm kick. Let me tell you, you almost cannot go wrong with cilantro and lime juice. Tomorrow I’m going to add some avocado tossed with lime juice and I expect I may well have an out of body experience as a result.

I just got kicked out of my writing group. I am mad sad.

They weren’t unjustified in kicking me out. I’ve missed the last three meetings due to random annoying circumstances (the most recent one being yesterday’s debacle — and I had to make up a fake excuse since I never told them I have kids because it was a group for queer women and it’s just too much of a hassle to explain my whole crazy story) and so it looked to them like I’m not committed even though I actually was.

I was looking forward to being part of a group that might actually inspire me to write. Of course, thanks to my blog, I’m writing all the time, but getting from blog entries to potentially-publishable essays, while seeming like it shouldn’t be that big of a step, is apparently insurmountable for me. I hoped that being forced to think about it, being forced to take even baby steps in that direction so I wouldn’t look like a big lazy non-writer to the group, might actually inspire results.

I was thinking of starting a group for women who want to read Your Money or Your Life (one of my resolutions for the new year is to stop being so stupid about money), but maybe I should start a writing group instead. I started one for mothers a while back but it died a pretty quick death when I made the mistake of being passive about leading the group. I don’t like to lead, or rather, I don’t like to feel like I’m forcing my decisions on other people, but each group I’m a part of gives me a better sense of how I might “lead” a group without actually having to lead it.

I don’t know. The final of my resolutions for the new year is to keep central to my life processes that will inspire me to learn and grow and create and so I feel that this hole created by the loss of this writing group needs to be filled with something, and the sooner the better.

Last night I was up until 1am having drama with this guy I’m seeing.

Jeez.

You’d think the drama could wait a bit, like maybe until our second date, but no.

The drama is that I feel things are moving too fast. I know, I know, how can things be moving to fast when we’ve seen each other in person exactly two times? Well, two in-person meetings or not, our conversations make it sound like we have been dating for months and his plans for the future make us sound like he’s already bought the ring. So as far as I’m concerned, things are definitely moving too fast.

This is a very common feeling for me when getting involved with someone, especially someone who is insane enough to show visible signs of actually liking me. This has become an even more common feeling during this time that I’ve been single because I’ve come to feel so protective of my own time and space. This new guy really likes me and he really wants to see me, preferably as often as possible. I really like him too but the more he tries to wrap his arms around me in a great big bear hug, the more I try to desperately squirm away.

The let’s-take-things-slower-because-you’re-freaking-me-out conversation (couched in gentler terms of course) is one I’ve had plenty of times and it never goes over well. At best, I expect pouting and hurt feelings, at worst I get defensiveness and a complete turnaround in the conversation where it becomes all about the other person and I have to go to great lengths to soothe bruised egos. This guy gave me the former response, except that to my face he gave me the grown up, rational response (”that’s cool, I understand, take your time, I’ll be here when you’re ready”). It was only while talking to a mutual friend that I learned he was upset.

I don’t blame him for being upset, his response is exactly the response I would have (and give) if the situation was reversed (except that I never reveal the extent of my feelings until the other person does so, precisely to avoid finding myself in situations like this), but still, thus began the drama of me trying to explain that I’m not rejecting him, I just need space, I just need time, I have extremely little time for myself that involves no children so there’s no way in hell I’m giving that all to him, I no longer trust my character judgment after how things with my boys’ dad turned out so I need to get to know him much better first, I do like him, if I didn’t I would just run away instead of trying to have this stressful conversation with him, etc. His response was to put his cards on the table by telling me exactly how much he likes me (really, really, really a lot) and what he hopes for for us (gah!), which only made me want to run away all the further. (Note: if someone tells you your bear hug is too tight, don’t say, “that’s cool” and then squeeze all the harder).

Despite the stressful (and largely annoying) conversation, I do feel proud of myself. I had previously canceled my babysitter for tonight and asked if she could do Wednesday instead so that I could go out with this guy instead of attending my writing group, knowing that I couldn’t have babysitting two nights in a row (can’t afford it, don’t want to be away from my boys two nights in a row, probably my babysitter wouldn’t be available anyway). But the more I thought about it, the unhappier I felt with the decision because even though I was telling myself that it would just be this once, that I would otherwise prioritize my own life and interests over a date, I feared it wouldn’t be true and that I’d once again fall down that stupid rabbit hole of sacrificing my life for a relationship. When I realized that I just didn’t have to do it, I felt so much better and immediately emailed my babysitter to switch the plans back to the original that involved me attending my writing group (except that she’d already made plans so was no longer available — damn — but I’m still not going on the date) and that inspired a whole wide range of thinking about my feelings of discomfort with regards to this guy and my desires for my life and whether I’m making the best choices. I confirmed that I was not, thus the conversation, thus drama, but ultimately many happier feelings inside my own body.

It’s so helpful when the right choice is also the choice that feels best.

Yesterday I had my first official date with that guy I mentioned in my last post (our having coffee doesn’t count as a date because that’s just the in person context meeting — he is the only person I’ve met (online) who agrees with me about this).

Where did we go on our first official date? Why, to church of course! Where else?

Yep, that’s right, first date at church.

Okay, so it’s not as weird as it sounds. What happened was this: during one random conversation we were discussing religious beliefs (I am a humanistic, open-minded atheist, he is an atheism-leaning agnostic) and I told him about the belief-o-matic and suggested he give it a whirl. He took the quiz and informed that he is 100% Unitarian Universalist (as am I), a religion he had never even heard of, so I took the opportunity to educate him on all matters UU and followed up by mentioning that my recent move had brought me closer to a new congregation that I was planning to start attending this year (one of my resolutions for the new year being to build community for my boys and myself). He was intrigued by my descriptions and by the website for this particular congregation, so he suggested that perhaps we could all go to the service on Sunday. I was all for this idea, fearing that without something to make me go, I might remain firmly on my ass as I do almost every Sunday. So voila! First date at church.

I am really glad I finally attended services. There are two UU congregations in my city, one of which is way too big, the other of which is way too small. Since our recent move, we live quite near a third congregation that is just outside our city but a good size, not too big and not too small. What clinched it for me was visiting their website and seeing that their services are held in a geodesic dome. I don’t know if any of you have been reading my blog long enough to recall my penchant for alternative housing structures (yurts, domes, earthships, strawbale and cob, etc. — cob has been a more recent mention but back in the very beginning I talked a fair amount about my ex’ and my plans to live in a yurt), but seeing this dome made me very, very happy.

The service wasn’t bad although I’m realizing how very, very excellent my old congregation was, how beautiful their space was, and how charismatic their pastor. This new congregation is a bit rougher around the edges and the pastor is…quirky. But the service was still compelling and I think the quirkiness will grow on me. The boys (all three) had fun too, particularly once they discovered the big box of train tracks. Surprisingly, despite the fact that there were exactly two people of color attending the service, all of the kids in the nursery room (I decided to hold off on the preschool Sunday School program to give my one year old a chance to acclimate with his brother) were brown.

And that brings up something I thought was interesting about our attendance. The congregation is small so we were immediately recognized as newcomers and welcomed accordingly. People were welcoming to me but people went out of their way to be welcoming to the guy I was with. I’m guessing that this is because he’s black. I know that UU congregations are concerned about the fact that they are so white and spend a fair amount of time wringing their hands over the subject in that way that good white liberals do (not that I am at all exempting myself from this group) and so I think that in the face of uncertainty as to what actions might lead to a more “colorful” congregation, they figure that at the least they can be very welcoming.

On the one hand, I think this is kind of sweet. As a general human kindness, making a concerted effort to welcome folks who might feel they are outsiders to a group is a good thing to do, a good first step. On the other hand, I worry that, as is so often the case, the effort might stop there, that other than a fairly token welcome, the (white) congregation might not be taking any actual steps to challenge their own inherent racism and create an environment that might be truly welcoming and that might truly address the needs and interests of various groups of people of color. Of course, I’ve attended services with this congregation exactly once, so I’m not going to pass judgment quite yet and I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt, but it will be interesting to get to know this congregation better.

And yes, we are going again next week. I’m uncertain as to whether he’s doing this because I’m interested and he wants to hang out with me as much as possible or whether this is something he would do on his own as well (I fear it’s the former), but I’m glad to go regardless, and glad to have someone to whom I can make snarky comments under my breath during “quirkier” moments, and glad to have someone to buffer my poor little introverted soul from all the welcoming.

We are going out again on Wednesday, this time sans kids, and most likely not to any religious functions.

I shouldn’t even be blogging about this but my blogging record has been rather abysmal as of late so I feel like I must send something out into the tubes, even if it’s something that might be better saved until later when I’m more sure of things and won’t wind up eating my hat over the whole business.

I had a first date tonight with the man I’m going to marry.

Okay, I’m totally kidding about that. I just thought that would sound very romantic and dramatic and your ears would perk up and you’d click madly at my google ads so that I could become very, very wealthy…except of course I have no google ads.

But really, I did have a first date tonight and I learned an interesting lesson. Sometimes there are people out there in the world to whom you are mightily attracted, even though you know they will treat you badly and are likely to be emotional fuck-ups over whom you are going to waste many, many pointless tears. And then sometimes there are people out there who don’t suck you in immediately but who are pretty much exactly the people who would be designed for you by folks who care about you and know best what you need. Tonight I had coffee with one of those people.

Things about this guy: he’s a geek, he’s an artist (graphic designer by trade even), he’s smart, he’s really fucking funny (had me laughing to tears more than once tonight), he loves to read, he loves sci-fi, he’s extremely nice and he’s extremely hot. Oh, and did I mention that he also happens to be the single dad of a four year old boy who belongs to the cult of Thomas?

And that he’s really fucking hot?

Crazily enough, he seems to think I’m the bees’ knees as well. And he claims to think that I’m hotter than he is, which he cannot possibly believe because he positively sizzles, but hey, I’ll let the boy speak his part.

Despite the fact that this was our first in-person meeting after mucho IMing, I felt surprisingly comfortable with him, partially I think because he was just so nice. And partially because half of our conversation was excitedly trading cute stories about our kids. And partially because he was just. so. nice.

I’m not going to say more now (and really, what else is there to say, we’ve only met once) but I can’t help but think that this is one of those times where I’m not supposed to listen to the little voice in my head that’s saying, “ho-hum, where are the arrogant, superior, mean, insecure geeks I like so well?” precisely because it’s saying , “ho-hum, where are the arrogant, superior, mean, insecure geeks I like so well?” I might not be crushing on him (yet) but even I am not stupid enough to deny that he’s perfect for me.

And that he’s really fucking hot.