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October 2014

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"Ditto"...

A few posts back, I told a story about knocking on a certain person's door. I honestly thought that little anecdote would have been the end of that story, but am surprised to say that I was wrong.
I waited about a week and sent her a text, asking how she was holding up after my crashing back into her life. She responded that she had talked with some of her friends about it and the general consensus was that what I'd done was brave. I don't know if I agree with that, but they encouraged her to be open to a friendship, so who am I to argue?
Anyway, she asked me out to lunch and I accepted. We had a nice time and got caught up on each other's lives.
A week later, I asked her to dinner. I took her for a foot massage at "Treat Your Feet", followed by Thai food. She was anxious to get home because of her dog. I took her home to meet her beautiful German Shepherd, Jack. Unfortunately, Jack was thirteen years old and clearly not long for the world. He's incontinent, so she was in a hurry to get him outside and he didn't quite make it. Their love for each other was obvious and heart breaking. Before I left, I told her that it was obvious that she was going to have to make a hard decision soon, and if she'd like some support, I'd be happy to come over. I never imagined that she'd take me up on the offer, but she did. She called me the night before and asked if I'd come. I had to work, so I couldn't be there for the sad moment, but arrived a couple of hours after. I spent three hours holding her while she cried.
I know that those three hours were not about me, but you have to understand. Twenty five years ago, I broke this woman's heart and now she's trusting me to comfort her during a dark hour. I was overcome by the honor.
I checked up on her over the next week and invited her to come over for dinner. I knocked her out with my Chicken and Quinoa Soup and (because she's a Beatles fan) showed her Across the Universe. Owing to the preforementioned comforting, there was platonic cuddling during the movie.
A week later, she invites me to dinner at her place. She's Italian and serves up a fabulous ravioli. Afterward, we can't find anything to watch on cable, so I show her the series premiere of Sherlock on Netflix while we cuddle on her couch. We both get a little "hands-ie" but don't talk about it.
The next week, she agreed to let me cook for her at my place. I killed it with a Tuscan White Bean and Tomato Soup and Italian Crostinis. Afterward, we cuddled on the couch and watched something I can't recall due to all the kissing.
I spent last weekend in Seattle, visiting family. During the weekend, I texted her a pic of me with Mount Rainier behind me and told her that I found myself thinking of her. She replied with a simple "Ditto". I almost split my face grinning.
This week, she invited me over to share a bottle of wine and hang out. Three hours of half-naked making out on her bed. No actual sex, and frankly, that felt right. It felt like we're slowly ramping up to something special. I have to say that I cannot recall a more intimate and satisfying time with a woman. Not in recent memory anyway.
So, I've been walking around with this stupid grin on my face. Trying to remind myself that I've just ended an eighteen year relationship and am in no shape to be serious about anyone. I should be off on a newly liberated fuck-fest, right?
The woman in question has an Aunt visiting this weekend and they invited me to join them for a drink at Brickstore Pub. I joined them and, sitting next to her, felt uncommonly comfortable.
I'm actually kind of pissed off about this, but I think...
I think...
Fuck!
 

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