Single Mama Bear and The Centaur

by Molly Undercover on August 20, 2017

He showed me his and I showed him mine. . . 

Nicknames, that is.  

‘Wild Animal Man’ aka, ‘The Centaur’ revealed that I’m not the only one giving pet names! Awwww. . . .

The Centaur doesn’t talk about feels. For example, he’s never, ever said “I like you a lot” or “I think you’re pretty.” This may seem like a bad thing—but bear with me! That quality certainly keeps my walls up, which is kinda just the way I want it right now. And he has other lovely qualities: he’s fetching, he’s passionate for life, and he’s great with his dog. He is very tall, with broad shoulders and sinewy limbs. Chocolate chip eyes, olive complexion, a mess of dark, long wild hair all over the place. Untamed, sexy.

I always get a little flustered when I see him and do weird stuff like spilling beer all over him, having awkward first dates with other men while sitting next to him the whole time, tripping over my feet like an idiot or accidentally sending him texts about himself meant for my besties. It almost seems like there is something about the Centaur that’s meant to get me SO flustered that I eventually give up, stop overthinking, and stop trying to control my reality.

Our casual arrangement was not the type of thing that progresses to a more serious relationship. But one day we chanced to be at a show together and I met a bunch of his friends. I didn’t think a lot of it. But later he came over to where I was hanging out. He was gazing at me with a goofy look on his usually distant face. His head was back, and he was half-grinning and looking at me as if he’d never seen me before in his life.

Later, I went up to the front of the crowd to enjoy the last band. He popped up beside me and we had fun like we’d never had before. Dancing together, goofing off with his friends and loving the music. As the band took a break he leaned into me. He’s so tall. He has to stoop to talk closely to me. Swoon. The rest of the scene faded out and I was visually, olfactorily and physically fixated on his undomesticated presence.

He said something to me along the lines of “My friend wanted to know who I was flirting with and I was like: ‘Oh, that’s just Mama Bear’ and she was like, ‘THAT’S Mama Bear? But, she’s really beautiful!’ and I was like. . . ‘DUH!’”

Did a grown man just use ‘DUH’ in an attempt to compliment me?

:::::Cool story, bro:::: But also, his friends have had a nickname for me? Meaning he talks about me when we’re apart? My head spun a little at the awkward compliment. 

I decided it was time and told him about how we call him the Centaur. 

Back to the music show. He paused a moment. And then, I could swear I saw his chest puff just a little, he rocked back on his heels, and nodded. “I like it,” he said with a grin as the band started to play and we began to dance again. 

About the Nicknames:

A little background on how my nicknames for him evolved: ‘The Centaur’ was coined by a mutual friend one night, after this undomesticated man-person had stomped around at a party in only cowboy boots and sparkly spandex. It was quite a sight. The nickname just fit his oversized presence. ‘Wild Animal Man’ came from another friend who exclaimed that he was a wild animal when I recounted to her how  he’d curled up one weeknight right on my front porch and fell asleep, snoring like an bear, feet sticking eighteen inches off the porch furniture.

I LOVE the nickname ‘Mama Bear’! I like it so much I almost want to trade out the name Molly Undercover for it! It’s cute, and also fierce. When The Centaur moves on, as I’m sure he will sooner or later, I’ve decided I get to keep this nickname. And I love it. Thanks, hairy and huge Wild Animal Man. 

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