you say 'esparagus', i hit the delete key

Oh the humanity!

Why such a claim, you may ask?

Online dating. Otherwise known as "the attempt to".

Profile after profile, I become more disheartened. I have come to accept decade old photographs, run-on sentences, and violent misuse and comprehension of the dear little apostrophe. However, the list of things that drive me batty is growing. Two items have particularly spun me up lately - the clear avoidance of SPELL CHECK and the Holy Rollers.

While not all of us are editors, maybe slept through basic high school English class, we all have that little red squiggly line that alerts us when a word is misspelled on our computer screen. Even if you are color blind and cannot see the flaming red color, we all know the simple visual cue for a possible spelling error. So when writing to attract a potential mate, why do these men fail to right-click and correct the error? Case in point - when answering a question about food that was despised as a child but enjoyed now, the answer was "esparagus" (sic). Just typing that word hurts. Asparagus! Asparagus!

If dreadful spelling weren't enough, there has been a rising in the number of Holy Roller profiles. I cannot read another sentence stating, "I am a God-fearing man who wants to meet a God-fearing woman", I may very well become a nun. It is great that these men believe or even claim to believe, but that is their sole defining attribute and there has got to be more than that to a man I want to meet. I certainly don't believe these men would be rather open to my belief system that is a beautiful mosaic of truths I have found throughout my life. These Holy Rolling men's profiles are very black and white on the religious stuff and while many facets of my life contain black and white views, my religious side is many different shades of gray.

So I continue to read a handful of profiles daily. I have shifted my focus on the entertainment value and attempting to remain hopeful that one day soon, I will go out on a date or two. Not a lifetime commitment, but a spark of jolly good fun for a little while.

lessons learned applied

The most important lessons I learned during my marriage and subsequent divorce are to never say never and never make any assumptions or judgements. I never thought I'd be deceived and led to the path of divorced. I never thought that my divorce would be judged so harshly by bystanders assuming that I was the problem and The Leech was innocent. No one outside our failed marriage truly knows the hell I endured; hence, I make no assumptions because unless I am in your kitchen night after night, I don't know what truly goes on behind your closed door. After all, we can all be Oscar caliber actresses, if we really try to play our societal role with passion.

About a year after my divorce, a few girlfriends harassed me into trying on-line dating. Fearlessly I put myself out there meeting frog after frog, until I met Montana Man and I thought I truly found bliss. The Montana Man story played out it's sad song and I swore off internet dating. I said never again.

Never again turned into trying it again briefly last fall. I hadn't been on a date in forever and thought maybe it would be different in Texas. I had to recant my already learned lesson of never saying never because I gave online dating another go. I hate being a hypocrite and had to fess up to a few friends that I had recanted my moratorium on this arena; which was another marriage and divorce lesson: happily owning my share of the responsibility in failure (or in this case, recanting my "never" statement).

The internet dating fiasco is referred to as such because it was a fiasco. While I did not quoteth nevermore, I haven't pursued it until recently when I simply trolled around a little bit. Sadly though, my heart simply is not in it. I look because I am know I am ready for something but I don't want to put the effort into meeting someone (no matter what the ad or photos say) that has misrepresented himself. I am tired of the weeding process. I am tired of panning for gold because I only find a pile of dirty old rocks.

Of course, you may be confused because Super Dad is in the tapestry of my life. He is and he isn't. I have not seen the man otherwise known as Super Dad since the end of May. We are now entering what I can officially deem as the END. OF. SEPTEMBER.

Sure Super Dad has been battling his physical aliments. He's spent quality time at the Mayo Clinic day spa; not to mention plenty of money for that Mayo visit. But absence can only make the Patsy heart grow fonder for so long. We are officially entering the out-of-sight-out-of-mind phase. Yes, he calls me several times a day. But phone calls cannot make up for staring at each other's eyeballs. To be honest, I am not even concerned with the concept of sex. I miss simply seeing him. I miss hearing "you look beautiful today". I miss spending time with him. I miss running to Starbucks with him. I miss him and the basic daily human interaction piece of the love equation that has been missing for four months.

There are a few things I know for sure along with my previously mentioned marriage/divorce lessons and another insight I gained is that a telephone does not replace or equate to spending time with a potential mate-like person. Yes, Super Dad's lapse in physical health has become a big factor and maybe it will be a deciding factor. But I haven't seen him in four months. I asked him to come out here to spend some time with me and away from his house as I truly feeling the change of scenery will do wonders for him. To date, he has made zero progress in securing a ticket. All I get is lip service.

Another thing I learned from my marriage that was a leading factor in the divorce decision - words are meaningless; actions are everything. It is all about the follow through. If Super Dad doesn't feel well enough, then come clean with me - be honest - be truthful - but don't string me along because you "still haven't gotten your colonoscopy scheduled". Seriously?! This girl starts smelling rats when the words and actions go in paths that run counter to each other. Honesty goes much further with me than telling me what you think I want to hear. I am too smart, no matter what your motive is (i.e., to protect me), to fall for pretty words strung together with catch phrases like "I miss you", "Don't mesmerize any Peruvian men", and "Come home to Atlanta". Statements like that need to followed up with "When exactly do you want me to come out to see you" or "I would prefer to stay in Atlanta near my doctors but you come out here instead".

Maybe men don't work like that though. Maybe it is a Mars versus Venus thing. Maybe I am too much of a straight shooter - direct, to the point. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. A whole lot of maybes. A whole lot of rationalizations. A bunch of excuses. But at the end of the day, I see the outcome, regardless of the words, is the same: no plans to see each other in the month of September. As a extension of September, my October was basically booked before we got together. The honest answer is that our next real opportunity to spend time together is mid-November. At that point, it will be six months since we will have seen each other and honestly I don't know that I can build a relationship on that.

I suppose the old saying is correct - hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Or more importantly, I am applying my lessons learned - the words and the actions are not adding up which leads to serious speculation. When is Prince Charming going to knock on my door?

five out of six

Yesterday was Saturday.

You know what Saturdays have been consisting of for the past five consecutive weeks? Bolt.

This past Saturday was a bit different as Bolt did not make an appearance on my docket. However, I was not expecting this little surprise. I decided to send Bolt a text message regarding the location of Saturday's night festivities. Within mere moments, Bolt sent a response inquiring about arrival time and I responded accordingly. I was so excited at Bolt's rapid response. I was super thrilled for the night.

Walking to the party, I thought I saw Bolt's vehicle parked down the street. No Bolt sights though. The evening wore on and he was a no-show. I was disappointed. Very disappointed.

are men like wine?

The Day Job has become all-consuming leaving me time or energy for much else.

My flying date for early November was canceled due to our friend, Mother Nature ensure a storm surrounded the city; instrument flying only. We all know what happened when JFK, Jr. decided to do a little instrument flying. The jaunt was rescheduled for mid-December.

Clearly, the planets are aligned such that I am an older man magnet. The pilot is a member of the older man club and it appears there is a second older man interested in my world. This second man, Trotter, is handsome and does not look as old as he is. I have decided to overlook the decade-plus difference in our ages and encourage his advances. I am sure this older man fandango will give me a fair amount of writing material.

paying

I have been on a Tyler Perry movie kick. I love watching someone else's roller coaster life get wrapped up pretty with a bow with happiness overflowing in the span of two hours. I really like his stories and perspective - it is very call-it-like-it-is, stating the obvious, but sometimes it is simply good to hear it.

Last night's selection was Diary of a Mad Black Woman. It started me thinking about my attitude towards men because in many respects the movie could have easily been the Diary of a Mad Puerto Rican-Italian Princesa Named Patsy. The line that truly struck a chord was the romantic male lead telling the divorcee lead, "Don't make me pay for his mistakes." The 'his' being referred to is the divorcee's ex-husband.

"Don't make me pay for his mistakes."

I do that. The realization slapped me across the face last night as I watched the film. What I have termed 'cautious', not repeating the same pattern went from simply being knowledgeable to the harder, misguided making him, any him, pay for the past transgressions of the tainted men from my past.

Fear.

Trust.

Two simple words.

Two powerful forces.

However, these words play a significant role in making him pay. The cynic in me grows feeding on the fear and inability to trust. Fear of being made a fool again; fear of trusting that someone is who he says; fear of being vulnerable; fear of hurt.

Especially in the Internet sphere, trust is a difficult thing for me. Men use old photos, misrepresent height, weight, professions. Of course, women do that too, but I like to think people should be fairly honest when trying to meet someone. In my profile, I used recent photos and was honest with the likes/dislikes tick boxes. My other fear/trust issue with on-line dating is the 'always looking for something better' philosophy but I remind myself that is present int he real-world dating scheme too.

As a result of this grand realization compliments of Mr. Perry, I have been making an effort to be in the now with The Computer Geek; to cease the cynical voice in my head that automatically plays the punisher soundtrack. The Computer Geek is not his predecessors; he may turn in an arse, but it will be on his own and not because I have made him into those who came before him.

follies of a hypocrite

Oh my!

Oh My!

This whole Internet dating thing is so terribly depressing.

Terribly. Terribly.

Thinking life on my own with the B.O.B. may be my only option.

Paralyzed men!

making her list, checking it twice

Recently, my list of must-haves for a potential suitor has garnered a fair amount of scrutiny. Even Edina thinks I am a bit hung up on a few points, but over the years I have come to know myself and the things I have tried to overlook but no amount of overlooking can stifle my true, raw, honest feelings. Yes, my list looks rather superficial on the surface – but if anyone knows how many frogs I have kissed and how much benefit of the doubt I have bestowed on these frogs, they would know that my list consists of brutal honesty.

It was extremely difficult for me to get to the point of even considering writing up a list. I have always been anti-list because a person is not on par with a gift registry. A person is so much more than a list! Besides I have faithful lived my life with a “don’t judge a book by its over” mentality because I know how I come off to new people. I am painfully shy in a new setting (although that has lessened some) but because I am well put together, my shyness is typically interpreted as aloofness and quite frankly women think I am a stuck up bitch, so never give me a chance.

Another important facet of my list avoidance is my father. He is a brilliant man even though he never went to college and he provided very well for his family. If my father could be so much more than his credentials, then other men could be too, right? I embraced life and men with that in mind. Sure I’ll go out with you at least once! Up to three times because those first few dates are always a little jittery.

Reality is far different than the utopia of sunshine and happiness I have floating around in my mind and heart. Last spring as my relationship with Harry Goldenblatt was waning, I was struck by the lightening bolt that clearly told me, “Girl! Wake up! It is time for you sit down, be painfully honest with yourself and write up your must-have list so you stop wasting your time on men who will never fulfill you.”

And thus, the list was born… based on my experience, my relationships, and being true to myself. I refuse to sell myself short any long.

An example – A man must possess a mortgage (or outright own his property). A mortgage is a commitment. If a man cannot commit to a payment, he certainly cannot commit to me. Also, if he cannot make his payment that also plays into his priorities; therefore, if ensuring there is a roof over his head is not high on the list, we are not going to be compatible.

After last week’s happy hour with Coco and Curly Sue, I realized this list was created long before The Southern Gentleman strolled into my life in a suitor capacity. Imagine my surprise and delight when I ran him through my list and he checks out on all fronts – straight up and sticking to the guidelines. So much for the naysayers.

Keeping My Options Open

So y'all know how I was looking forward to the latest blind date set up?

Yeah.

The other half of my blind date decided not to go through with it.

men... shmen.... at what point should becoming a lesbian sound appealing?? :-)

Another Blind Date

Last week, I caught up with a co-work, Red who I hadn't spoken with since before "the date." After listening to the debacle in live technicolor, Red and I discussed my dating must have list.

You see, I was never one to have a must have list; a perennial give-a-man-a-try-because-he-seems-like-a-nice-guy kind of gyrl. However, Harry Goldenblatt proved to be the last of one too many losers and hence the list was born. It is merely a list of things I cannot be without or with. The seemingly small things that turn into big things. I have taken note of my patterns and am trying to turn the destructiveness of my past around with this list.

The next day, Red informed me that he told his girlfriend about my less that exciting date. Seems Red's girlfriend works with a man who fulfills the criteria set forth in my list and Red asked if I'd be willing to go on a blind date. If he fits the criteria, why yes, I am ready for a blind date. Bring it on!

Turns out Red also sent my Christmas card photo to work with his girlfriend so the potential blind date could check me out. Suppose he had to be sure I wasn't some hideous monster that should be kept in a closet. Whatever.

So Red is working on sorting out the specifics for a little blind date. This should be interesting.

"The" Date

My long awaited Saturday date.

It was ok.

Our afternoon of outdoors was moved into the evening due to him. I was cool about that as then I would not be forced to rush.

He picked me up at 7. I looked really nice - hair and make up cooperated - I was thrilled. The man looked good until we got to his shoes. He was wearing tennis shoes ~ forever known as disappointment #1.

We went to a nearby place that was to have live music. In the midst of suburban life right off of I-35 was a little place, who's name completely misled as it sounded middle eastern, however, it was a bar chuck full of good ol' boy Texans playing poker, smokin, and drinkin. We had a cocktail and contemplated plan b. Keep in mind I continued to be gracious and friendly, even though this place was a dive; after all, how do you know if a place is good or not if you never walk in the door, right?

Next we headed downtown for another try. Went to a place on the south side of town. The music was good. Drinks weren't bad. I ordered my first drink when he was in the bathroom and I started a tab. Little did I know that at the end of the evening, I'd end up settling the tab. Now it wasn't big but it was the point that he did not pay. We never did get anything for dinner are the music place did not serve food.

We were at my place by midnight. I felt a bit robbed as we could have stayed out a few more hours. Of course, he is probably 12 -14 years my senior and as such staying out until 2 AM might not so much his thing. I feel that when he figured out I was not going to ask him to spend the night, he left. I was kissed good night and told he would call me this week.

Somehow the fun we had on Tuesday night was not there on Saturday night. All evening he called me "baby" and had his arm around me. Not quite sure how I feel about the whole "baby" thing as part of me found it annoying but yet endearing.

Maybe I built it up in my mind too much? Expected more than what's ever been there? Maybe he was having an off day? Maybe I just need to quit analyzing it to death?

Guess what?

Yes, last night, hell officially froze over.

Why?

Because I had a date! woo hoo!! Totally impromptu. Initiated by him. Had a good time.

We weren't going to get together until Saturday but last night sure beat sitting at home. I was thrilled that he actually called me rather than sending yet another text message. Since we do work for the same company, I did let him pick me up ~ trying to be more open. We enjoyed a few beers, a bite to eat and chatted it up. I honestly did enjoy myself. Afterwards, he walked me to the door, drank some vino, talked some more. Late for a school night, but oh well!

We are still on for a fun Saturday, which sounds like fun. Possibly this Thursday too.

I could definitely enjoy this for a bit!

Disappointment

I am so disappointed in him.

But

Yet

I

Shouldn't

Be.

After all this time, you'd think I'd believe the signs. It is a one way street.

Please make this be gone, once and for all. I am so very tired. I've learned my lesson. Make it go away or keep its word.

Please.

Bald Magnet

Another whirl wind weekend. Not as crazy as last month but definitely keeping me hopping.

Last night though. The Christmas party wine tasting extravaganza. Met a new man who was totally digging me. I don't know what it is with me and bald men. My abundance of hair must be a magnet to those follically challenged.

He immediately sought me out. We chatted for awhile, found out we work for the same company. He asked for my number which I happily provided. He wanted to see me for brunch this morning but I already had plans. He stated he wished he could change his plans for tonight - his birthday dinner with his children. Of course I get on the plane tomorrow morning and will be gone until after the first of the year. Boo.

Other than shaving his head to mask the receding hairline, he was well dressed - even had good shoes on -muscular, but not in the chubby sense, muscular as in the man works out. We talked for quite some time - the party moved from the kitchen to the dining room but I honestly did not notice as we were in our own little world, which was nice for a change. We continued chatting the rest of the evening until I noticed it was 1 AM! Yikes, I had an early morning so I downed my wine and headed for the door, lest I turn into a pumpkin.

He left with me. I got a nice hug good night complete with a kiss on my right cheek. I saw his little sports car zip away up the street. Yummy! a fun little two seater sports car - this definitely has potential fun written all over it.

We will see. He has my number. He seemed interested last night. Hopefully he will call. I could definitely use a little entertainment down here.

Thursday... lost

I wrote out Thursday's post but somehow 15 November 2007 did not stick to Blogger... here it is again... thank goodness I keep a copy in Word!

***************

Worked really late last night. I am exhausted and honestly quite tired of staring into a computer screen. I spoke with a girlfriend of mine who lives in Dixie, so henceforth, she will be known as Dixie in blogland. Dixie inquired as how my beau (her exact words) was. When I informed her that I did not technically call The Southern Gentleman a beau quite yet, I did share with her that he has been rather scarce lately but did send me a birthday card. Dixie has an ability to succinctly size up any given situation and provide the associated, always dead-on advice on absolutely anything; and I mean anything. Dixie first asked if I had ever read Men are from Mars. In fact, I have not. Per the book, Dixie went on to expound that The Southern Gentleman is in rubber band mode. This stretching of the rubber band typically occurs after an intense event – cue our dreamy weekend together. Any chasing on my part during the rubber band stretching would be detrimental – cue why Montana Man’s way to catch a man was not working; damn good thing I ceased that operation. Then after The Southern Gentleman has stretched, he will come back and we will move on to the next level. So sayeth Dixie, therefore it shall be.

Stay tuned! Because if Dixie is right, and remember Dixie is always right, this could become very juicy!

What a gyrl wants

So many times I hear “I want someone to grow old with.”

I simply want someone to be young with, to be vibrant with, and to live this life to its fullest with. I want to live in the now and share the present with someone. Not focus my relationship on having a spare in the back for the days when my hair has whitened and joints ache. What is the fun in that?

I want to experience life with a man who is not afraid to take a big bite. A man who will gleefully scramble to the top of Macchu Picchu and take out the trash ~ in both situations, it will not be a chore for him, merely part of life, our life together.

While I have traveled the world, have done well for myself, I do yearn to have someone to share it all with. However, how the sharing is done is another story, as I will not be any man’s sugar mama. I do not care how cute he is or how good he is in bed; I will not be in a relationship again where the money scales are tipping in my favor.

Where is he? I want to make the memories before the growing old is well on its way, before a hot, steamy night consist of he and I slathering each other in ben-gay. I want to have a colorful tapestry of memories with him, so we can fill in our decrepit swiss cheese memories when we are gray.

Time moves so quickly. I do not want to lose any more time than I already have. I want to be able to enjoy you, Mr. Mystery Meat, sooner rather than later. There are so many wonderful shared memories for us to create.

"You can't call him!"

I went to a girls night in while I was home. Being exhausted as I was from the tile madness, I wasn't quite myself. A little quieter, a little subdued even with wine.

The evening's contingent was made up of about ten women ranging in age from late twenties to late forties. Pretty, plain, personable, masculine, feminine, attention seekers, wholesome, divorced, never married - it was quite a collection of women. However, we all had one thing in common, we are all single.

A collection of self-sufficient women. Successful women. But single. One woman was sharing her tale of woe regarding her latest fun date courtesy of craigslist. When she stated she sent the guy a little email, you could literally hear the crisp night air being sucked furiously from the room. Immediately, several of these wind suckers frantically stated "oh no! you can't call him" and from there the litany of dating don'ts poured forth.

It was then that I took in the room and thought "maybe that is exactly why we are sitting here single."

I know. Men love the chase, they are by nature hunters.... yada, yada, yada.

But still somewhere along the line, dating and relationships turned into the complex creature, where even your best tried and true male road map cannot provide a clear path. Each man is different; requires distinct items for fulfillment. As such, one set of rules works for one and not the other. Where the art lies is in the determining which set of rules applies to each particular man.

Is the fact that we work-successful women so faithfully follow the "rules" found in the myriad of self-help relationship books a major contributor to exactly what is stopping us from being successful in love? I look at my old ladies and their relationships were not full of the turmoil we face today. How did something as simple as love get so damn complicated?

While I know that a real relationship anything but a Hollywood love story, I do not believe there should be this strict list of 10 steps to trap a man. Coyness and all that old fashioned stuff still resides in my heart. I do like being pursued. I love picking up my mobile and seeing my man's name flash on the screen. But to have this delicate dance dictated by "shoulds" and "cannots" of some so-called expert who resides in the self-help aisle may not necessarily be the answer. Maybe blindly following these "shoulds" and "cannots" is a contributor in why the ten of us women remain single in the face of desiring a loving relationship.

Some days, I think I was born too late. While being able to be independent and work-wise successful, I do think my old ladies enjoyed a fuller love life with their husbands. To listen to their stories of courting, I wish I could have that. Maybe I still can. Or maybe the world is just to different now to facilitate that. But this gyrl holds fast to the dream....

"The Letter"

As I frantically try to tie up loose ends and clean prior to my departure tamale, I have to look at (code word for analyze) The Southern Gentleman's "letter."

Before I share the contents with you, I must preface that I see a difference in "a letter" and "a thank you card". The letter I received is some weird hybrid mix of male thinking.

It is a beautiful, simple handcrafted card from this overseas trip prior to coming to see me. Without further adieu, "the letter" (picture it ~ in male chicken scratchish handwriting):

10-1-07

Hey Wanderlust Gyrl,

I wanted to thank you again for the wonderful weekend in SxSW land. I had a great time catching up and taking in SxSW land with a "local". Very nice place (WG: he underlined twice!) I am so glad you have survived the last few years. Much, so much, life to live. Be safe, stay sweet, and don't change. Hope to see you again soon in SxSW land, Mile High, or the South.

Cheer, the Southern Gentleman :-) xoxoxo

So what do y'all think about that??

Then a few days later I stumble across the Southern Gentleman printed handwriting on the back - yes! the BACK of the card! You see, the card had some foreign characters on the front.

IF YOU COULD NOT GUESS....
"THIS MOMENT IS THE PRESENT" IN specific foreign language.
ENJOY... -SOUTHERN GENTLEMAN

So what do y'all think now??

Not quite a profession of love. But still, I have not gotten a card like that before. As if to be a man writing out a blank card.

I need your input!! Talk to me peeps!

Latest Update

Yesterday I received the call. The letter arrived. Not enough time to overnight it and ensure I receive it before I leave. My decision has been made for me based on sheer timing. I must wait until I arrive back home.

Patience.

Right now, Thursday afternoon sounds quite far away.

Moving On

Happy Wednesday !

By this time on Friday (two days away!), I will be half way home. I miss my hounds. Some people may look at them as "just dogs," but they are my darlings. I cannot wait to look into my big girl's eyes. I have been looking at their photos a lot the past few days eager with the thought I will be with them again soon.

************** ******************

I sent The Southern Gentleman a little email yesterday at the urging of Montana Man. Of course, I also threatened Montana Man within an inch of me going Lorena Bobbitt on his ass in the event he chooses to give me bad male interpretation data. I think Montana Man knows this Scorpio has a pretty nasty sting.

Honestly, I feel Montana Man is a little jealous and a little surprised about the whole Southern Gentleman presence. Yesterday I was completely open about The Southern Gentleman to Montana Man. I told MM how TSG asked me the $64,000 questions about my feelings on remarriage and children. Maybe revealing the depth of our TSG weekend and our situation over the years was a dangerous thing, but honestly, I do not care. MM asked for details, so I gave them (within reason). MM wants us to be best friends. Well, best friends hear about my TSG adventures.

Something I did find interesting though. Upon initially telling MM about TSG, I did explain the attraction level that has always been, starting from when TSG and I initially met many moons ago. There was also always a magnet between MM and I, but the magnet is at least 10 times more powerful between TSG and me. That is how I related it to MM. His only statement "wow." Funny thing is that yesterday MM tells me that he and his new squeeze are very attracted to each other. MM even went so far to say that "how you said it is 10 times more powerful between you and TSG. well, that's the same with me and the new squeeze." MM, do I note a hint of the green eyed monster of jealousy?? Funny how MM and the new squeeze went from his self-described "ok" date to a love of epic proportion when MM found out about TSG. Yeah.

************** ******************

I fell asleep on the couch last night. I slept good over all. Felt refreshed this morning. Of course, now here in the dungeon, I feel drained and ready to take a nap. I think not seeing the sun and being trapped in this depressing office has just a little bit to do with it.

Hee hee. I wonder what the rest of today has in store for me...

Take a Letter, Maria

Tonight as I strolled about town, I called The Southern Gentleman. He sounded slightly surprised to hear my voice. I greeted him in my usual manner. He went on his little road trip. I questioned how the drive went and he said it was good - he had "time to think". I did not question what he was thinking about because I have a pretty damn good idea.

His voice sounded happy at my call. The Southern Gentleman stated he was surprised at my call, especially since he had just finished a letter to me about an hour before. I cheerily say "we've got ESP" and he says "yeah, it looks like it" with a smile in his voice.

We talk about SxSW land. At some point I touch on a harmless topic that he addressed in his letter and he says that is something he touched on in his letter so we wouldn't talk about it as to not be redundant. We discussed his week home and his current excursion. It was good. The Southern Gentleman asks when I head west next, then says "you'll have to watch your post box for the letter."

In that moment, the light bulb springs to life over my dim head. Not an e-mail like I had assumed this previously mentioned letter was, but a real honest to goodness hand written, pen and paper letter. I am believing that any man who would take the time to write a good old fashioned letter only has good things to say.

So now I am on pins and needles, waiting to get home to see what the mailbox holds for me. Some days it is better not to know because the anticipation may very well kill me. Part of me so excited but a small part of me is afraid too. An letter, a note can hold so much or so little. And we've already discussed my lack of patience! OMG! Good thoughts, Internet!