On New Year’s Eve, John Bear’s little brother brought his girlfriend along from New York City.

The two are absolutely smitten with each other and I couldn’t help but take picture after picture of them.

Maybe because they’re so damn cute together

or maybe because I could picture them just like this walking down a busy street in New York City.

Or maybe I wanted to capture, through a lens, what it feels like to be that young and that ready to dive head first into whatever comes.

because for them, the rest of the world doesn’t really exist right now.

And that is so incredibly awesome.

I’m definitely a fan of love now. It’s slightly obnoxious.

Or maybe it’s just these brothers.

Trouble.

They’re both trouble. And totally taken.

[And that's Mr. Papa Bear himself to the right of John there. All of my pictures from our trip to Chicago and New Year's are here.]

If you’re really looking for romantic inspiration check out the latest creation from my beautiful friend Morgan – Bluegrass Romance - she’s challenging herself to weekly missions of adventure and romance throughout 2010. As if moving across the country to marry your true love as a single mama wasn’t enough! Morgan rocks.

—-

Your entries to my New Leaf, New Year contest have been out of this world. I’m announcing the winner very soon.

Related posts:

1. Love vs. Lust
2. Single Moms and Love
3. Lots of love to go around.

I met the first boy who would break my heart at a party.

My legs were crossed and I had a pillow on my lap, my back leaning into the corner of the sofa. Working three jobs over my summer break between my freshman and sophomore years of college I liked this spot in the corner,  far enough removed from the party that I wasn’t expected to chime in but close enough to hear the conversations and the laughter. I wanted to hide my exhaustion and my fat thighs. A hot summer day in Athens, the windows of my friend’s house were open and the light breeze was pulling her curtains and then pushing them back ever so softly.

My father would be dead one year from now. Ignorance, I realized later, truly was bliss but I couldn’t appreciate this yet. I did know he had seemed tired lately, more tired than usual and that he’d been complaining of headaches. I wasn’t thinking about this though, I was thinking about the boy who had just walked in and taken a seat on the couch across from my corner. “This is Mike,” said the hostess.

We exchanged our hellos and then started talking about majors, our apartments for next year, our hopes, our dreams. We were clicking. A few weeks later I took him home to meet my family. We even told each other we were “in love.” I thought we would be together well into the fall quarter, if not for the entire year. But after he’d been giving me a perturbing cold shoulder for days I walked into his apartment unannounced and demanded an answer. “Why?” I asked, “Why have you been so mean lately? What is going on? Do you not want to be with me anymore?”

“No,” he said, “No, I don’t.”

We had only been going out for a month and a half but I felt like my heart had just been ripped out, stomped on and then shoved back into my chest cavity. After the words left his mouth I turned around and walked out of his apartment quietly, refusing to give him any more pieces of my heart. I spent the next two days in my dorm room, crying my eyes out and wondering why. Without e-mail and cell phones it was easier to not obsessively stalk someone, instead I was just left alone with my thoughts and my tears. And in one of these moments I heard a knock on my door.

“Who is it?” I snapped.

“It’s your Dad.”

I opened the door and there he was, tall and dutiful. His hands were holding a small bouquet of flowers he had picked from the garden at the house. I would save these flowers for years until one year they came crashing down onto the floor, breaking into dozens of pieces. Until then I had tried to smell them, wishing to feel – if even for a second – like he was still there in that room with me.

“Your Mom called me,” he said, “She told me to come by. So you got dumped, huh?”

“Yes,” my voice broke and I started sobbing and sat on the top of my desk, burying my face in my hands, trying to hide these embarrassing tears.

He pulled up my desk chair, took a seat and crossed one leg over the other. He didn’t like seeing me this way so he let out a sigh and then said, “Listen, Alaina. There’s something you should know about yourself and about men. Not very many of them will be able to handle you. You’re just like my mother.”

His mother, my grandmother, had died when he was 18, also from cancer. A single mother, she had raised my father and his three brothers with the help of their grandmother, who was a single widowed mother.

“You’re like she was,” he went on, “You’re passionate, intelligent and beautiful. But because of that most of these guys, especially these college guys just won’t understand you.”

“You think so? Really?”

“Absolutely.” He gave me a hug and then left but his words stayed with me forever.

Now I’m sharing them with you because he wasn’t just talking about me. Since then I have met other women like me… Mia is just one them. So strong, passionate and beautiful. You are a lot to handle but if he can’t appreciate who you are than, trust me, you’re better off without him. Don’t stop until you find a man who isn’t intimidated by your passion, but fosters it and a man who isn’t threatened by your intelligence but attracted to it.

In the meantime, the only thing we can do is pick up the slack and become one with ourselves because that guy – if he does come along – will like you just the way you are supposed to be… happy, content and comfortable in your own skin.

—–

P.S. I think my father would have adored John Bear.

Related posts:

1. Joining the club.
2. What’s a single working mama to do?
3. Single Mom S.O.S.: Her ex wants full custody!

to know about being a dating single mom.

A few days ago, I spent hours sorting through my archives to produce a lovely table of contents to this blog. It’s funny to put your own life into categories, but I think you’ll enjoy them.

Like Chapter 11 – “The Ex Files: the Men I’ve Dated Along the Way.”

Funny.

Along the way to what?

To meeting him.

The Bear. My John Bear.

I know it’s early. Only six weeks in. But when someone says, “I’ve been waiting 30 years to meet you,” and then looks into your eyes and tells you how amazing you are and you look right back at him and feel the same way – one can’t help but wonder – could this be it?

Then your knees turn all mushy right along with your heart and your head stays on, in tact and nods, up and down, up and down. Yes. I feel the same way. This is just too weird. Feels like a dream and we’re both in it together.

And stumbling across old, yet very powerful posts like this one now make me thank my lucky stars I didn’t settle, that I listened to that heart all along the way when it shouted, “move on! He’s just not right.”

And I’m so glad I did.

Turns out he was just a few blocks away the entire time.

Now the relationship chapter or this blog will begin. So far though it’s very, very easy. Delightful actually.

And as for that old fear stuff I used to write about. Gone. Seriously. Not an ounce of fear in my heart right now. It’s the oddest thing. It just feels right. Perhaps I was confusing fear with my gut telling me what I didn’t want to hear.

Maybe.

Maybe our fears are the rational side of our single mama brains pointing us in the right direction. Maybe, if based and grounded in realities, our fears are there for a reason.

Maybe we should listen to ourselves in every moment. How could we lead ourselves astray if we constantly do what is right by our family, our children and ourselves? From the groceries we buy to the dates we keep or choose to break… every decision should feel right.

As always, just food for thought my lovelies and as always, I’d love to hear yours.

P.S.

And don’t forget to check out my Ms. Single Mama Table of Contents. Lots of good stuff in there like online dating tips, break up tips, single mom dating advice. Eat your hearts out but you may want to grab a glass of wine first.

Related posts:

1. A Christmas miracle…I got to go to the grocery…alone.
2. A love song?
3. That Couple

Larry is in his seventies but his eyes are young.

He had a major hand in creating the Hocking Valley Scenic Railway, a thriving tourist destination for Athens County and his energy seems to be endless. He’ll never acknowledge his age with words or by his actions and I find this amazing and inspiring.

We’ve just wrapped up a meeting and now we’re saying our good byes in the doorway to the Athens County Visitors Bureau. The Bureau is my refuge and my savior. My home town, I feel, is cradling me – rocking me back to health and in turn I am enlightening thousands of tourists to pay us a visit.

Larry is lingering.

“So have you found a nice guy yet?” he asks.

Every time I meet a WWII vet like Larry I immediately conjure up images of men like Gregory Peck and Spencer Tracy on battle lines or at fancy dinner tables puffing on cigarettes, he is no exception.

“No, not yet. There aren’t any around or something, or maybe I just don’t know where to look or maybe I’m not ready,” my voice cracks a bit.

The tears have been coming easily lately.

It’s been nine months of single motherhood and I have yet to see a glimmer of hope, even though I’ve been dating not one man has shown promise of being something.

I want to hear words of wisdom from Larry, so I stop, look down at my shuffling feet and then I listen.

“Don’t you worry, Beautiful. One of these days a man is going to find you and he’s going to sweep you off your feet. You won’t even know what hit ya.”

“Really? A man can do that? I’m not sure if that’s possible,” I’m looking up at him now wondering how I must appear, as a damsel in distress with the flowered skirt to match.

But even though I look the damsel, someone who could potentially be swept up into a romantic whirlwind, I am a single mother. I have a one-year-old at home who I can’t stop thinking about, not even if I try. Can a man ever really understand that or fit into my life?

The reality of it all smacks into me like a wave and I start shaking my head before he can even answer.

“No, Larry, it’s not possible… not unless he can change diapers and be woken up in the middle of the night – every night.”

“Oh it is, sweet heart – trust me on this one, it definitely is. Just you wait.”

Larry was right. I just had to be patient and stop looking.

—–

The Bear leaves me at the bar for a second to use the bathroom.

I trace my fingers across the rim of the glass holding my beer. The men across the bar are there, starring. I can see them but they are just a blur, a wash of people.

Typically I would meet their eyes if even for a fleeting moment just to see if I could catch that spark, that thing I had been dreaming of for so many years, that feeling I had yet to experience. But now, I keep my eyes down and a slight smile creeps across my face and then it grows wider.

I can’t contain it anymore, not even in a bar filled with men.

I’m being swept.

He’s completely endearing, fascinatingly intelligent, funny as hell and totally adorable. He also has drive, passion and a humor for life. He’s all of these things but there’s something else… he cares.

Suddenly an entirely new feeling slips over me.

It’s the feeling of having a warm blanket wrapped around your shoulders, the feeling of being absolutely satisfied, filled up, rested, cared for, loved… whatever it is, I like it and I sink into my bar stool and just exhale. And then he’s there, his arm wraps around my shoulder and he says, “you okay?”

“Definitely,” I smile.

“Oh, I know that look,” he says, “that’s a look I like.”

After a few more Raspberry Wheats, the Bear and I find ourselves in the center of the small but empty dance floor. He wraps his arms around my waist and we start swaying to the blue grass music floating in the air. Then he leans in and kisses my neck, then my cheek and then my lips.

“Stop,” I say, “what about all of the others, I feel bad – they don’t have this – and I don’t want to be that couple.”

“Screw them,” he says, “it’s our turn now. It’s our turn to be happy.”

Potential, people, this Bear fellow has potential. <pinch pinch>

—-

Back up reading:

• Want a man? Stop looking for one.
• How did the Bear get his name? You’d have to ask the Lion and the Tiger.
• How we met.
• Our first date.
• A video of the Bear.

Related posts:

1. Hollywood’s single parent couple?
2. Unexpected reality
3. His eyes, the Governor & Dave.

“You may feel like something is missing,”

says my therapist in regards to my budding relationship with Mr. Man, who is – by far – the most caring, considerate and empathetic man I’ve ever been with, “This is probably because, in the past, you’ve only been with emotionally unavailable men.”

I hadn’t told her of my bad boy complex yet.

She figured that out based on some other issues I’m facing, like the loss of my father (unintentional abandonment) and my grieving mother (emotional abandonment). There are more details which, clearly, I’ll be keeping to myself.

“You may even be bored with him,” she went on.

At this point my head is shaking in agreement, stunned at her ability to read me like a book.

“I’m not all giddy, crazy, head in the clouds in love with him like I normally am with men. Instead we’re just slowly developing this deep friendship and I feel very calm.”

“That’s okay. It’s normal and very adult. You just need to re-learn some things, re-learn how you see things and feel things, that’s all. We can fix this kiddo!”

And by this she means my emotional unavailability, my inability to really trust in relationships or others.

——–

A few days earlier, Mr. Man and I were stretched out in my mother’s hot tub.

“I want to see a shooting star,” I say, “I haven’t seen one in years.” I relax my neck over the edge of the tub and focus on the galaxy of stars above us, so bright because we are deep in the dark forest surrounding my mother’s house.

Mr. Man starts singing softly. I’m straining to hear the words to the song but I can’t. The hot tub jets are humming in my ears. I take my eyes off of the stars and stare at him. He grows more beautiful every time we are together. The harder I fall for him – for his spirit, his strength and his ability to see the positive in everything – the more attractive he becomes.

“Oh! I just saw one! It was a quick one, but I saw one,” he shouts.

“Damn it!” I splash the water.

“No wonder you never see any,” he laughs, “You never take the time to look.”

——

All of us, as single moms, single women or recovering bad boy addicts need to take the time to look for the good ones.

Something had felt like it was missing with Mr. Man, but now – nearly two months in – the missing gaps are filling up with something solid, something I’m starting to believe in. I should add, nothing felt wrong at the beginning either. So if something feels very wrong about a man – get the hell away – but if something is “missing” ask yourself what it is?

For me it was the fact that he picked up the phone every single time I called. He didn’t blow me off or cancel plans. And he gave me genuine compliments and spoke of the future, often (and still does). The men in my past have always been emotionally unavailable or physically unavailable – giving me the cold shoulder, playing phone tag or leading me on only to drop me without a thought or care months or years later.

So what was I missing in Mr. Man? The bad boy.

“Fear,” says my therapist, “actually triggers arousal in our bodies. So when the men are mean to their women they immediately want to fix it, their bodies want to make it right.”

Yep, you heard that right.

Bad boys actually turn women on.

Hey, knowing what we’re up against is half the battle, right? I feel like I’ve had this massive, life changing epiphany, one I know I’ve been working toward on my own – I just feel so much better knowing there is a way to correct my mind and heart, corrupt from too many bad boys in the past.

As I find out more and go through my bad boy recovery, I’ll be reporting here.

So stay tuned…

• If you can’t get enough Mr. Man stories, click here for more.
• and read more about what I call my Bad Boy Complex, here.
  

P.S.

All is very, very well with Mr. Man. You would love him. Seriously. Every single one of my friends absolutely adores him, so I know all of you would too! He’s definitely a keeper. Big question now is – can I keep the keeper without sabotaging the relationship first?

No related posts.

“I’m sorry I was so short with you on Sunday,” I told Mr. Man.

My fears got the best of me last weekend and I felt like a schmuck.

“It’s okay. You’re probably stressed. I still can’t believe how much you do – you never stop… ever. I mean, it’s just too much for one person to handle and working full-time on top of it… I don’t know how you single moms do it.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how we do it either, but we just do it – I think – because we don’t have any other choice. And we adapt.”

——

It’s odd because aside from Mr. Man, no one has really seen Benjamin and I in our element morning, noon and night. His first taste of our daily grind came through telephone conversations during the first few weeks.

“I can’t talk, I’ve gotta go again.”

“Okay, call me when you get a break,” he’d say or, “Okay, call me when he’s down.” Our first real phone conversation of the day still comes after Benjamin is asleep.

It wasn’t until a viral infection stole my will to live and my body’s ability to even get out of bed that Mr. Man spent several days in a row – here – in our little apartment. He came up to relieve my mother who had been here for five days. That Saturday morning I woke up to Benjamin’s happy morning bedroom chatter and then drifted back into sleep.

I didn’t wake up again until 11:00 a.m., the longest I’ve slept in since becoming a mother. When I did Mr. Man was lying next to me, watching me sleep.

“You look beautiful when you’re sleeping, you know.”

“Where’s Benjamin?” I muster.

“Upstairs, playing with his trains. He sure loves those trains.”

I tried to move and winced in pain. My body shuddering a bit from my chills.

“God, I hate seeing you like this. What can I do? What do you need?”

“Some tea, maybe, or a bath.”

He drew the bath water, made the tea and kept Benjamin occupied until I could move back into my bed. It’s no coincidence that Mr. Man knows how to be a husband and a father, it wouldn’t be his first time.

A 35-year-old single father, Mr. Man blames his own mistakes for the disintegration of his first marriage. A refreshing alternative to the single fathers I’ve dated who are constantly bashing their ex-wives, Mr. Man speaks very highly of his, “I screwed up. I didn’t appreciate what I had until it was gone.”

“I want you to meet her,” he said one night, “and I want you to meet Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth, his six-year-old daughter, lives over three hours away from Mr. Man so their time together is limited to every other weekend.

“But you need that time for you two,” I sound hesitant, because I am – scared to death of suddenly having the tables turned, of meeting the child of my new flame.

“She’ll love you, it’ll be great. I know you’ll all love each other,” his persistence ends there and he lets me think about it.

———–

Two weeks later, Mr. Man is guiding me to Elizabeth’s driveway.

I can barely drive, my nerves getting the best of me. For the first time, I would be meeting a date’s child. What if she hates me for taking the scant time she has with her father away from her? What if we don’t click? What if she’s a little monster child?

So this is what it’s really like to date a single parent, I think. Not easy.

I let Mr. Man walk in first to break the ice and get some alone time with Elizabeth before Benjamin and I followed. When we did Elizabeth popped down the stairs and ran up to both of us, “Hello, Benjamin – can I show you my room?”

I liked her immediately, all of them – Elizabeth, her mother and her step-father. Major points for Mr. Man.

Later that afternoon, one train museum later and two toys later, all four of us sat at a Bob Evans booth. Elizabeth grabbed her father’s ear and whispered something. He smiled.

“What?” I asked.

“Hey Benjamin,” said Elizabeth, “You’re Mom is hot. Can you say that? Say – ‘My Mom is hot’.”

I am going to kill you – I mouth to Mr. Man.

“It was her idea.”

We’re all laughing hysterically, and suddenly I feel like a kid again.

“Do you want to have more kids?” I ask Mr. Man.

“Do you?” He asks me back with a big smile.

“I’m not sure.”

“C’mon, we could have a whole team!”

He’s such a father, through and through.

——–

Edited for Mr. Man’s privacy and because now I’m freaking out about how much I’m sharing on here. Sorry! I just really want to respect his privacy, he did not request the edit – I’m just making an executive decision.

“Good night,” he says one night on the phone, “And don’t have any of those weird dreams of yours, instead dream of me pickin’ you wildflowers in the summer.”

Okay, I think, now that I can definitely do.

And I did, I fell asleep with visions of Mr. Man coming over with fresh flowers in his hands. This summer we’ll be free of what is about to come – a challenge, to say the least.

To be continued…

If you can’t get enough Mr. Man stories, click here for more.

[Photo: Mr. Man holding Elizabeth and Benjamin at the Train museum]

Related posts:

1. Breakfast in bed.

I threw on my gold, slinky dress, slipped on my knee high leather boots and then topped it off with a long black wig which I’d braided earlier. Part of a group Peter Pan costume, I was Tiger Lily.

“C’mon! Get yours on,” I shouted to Mr. Man as I started in on my make up. A Halloween street party was waiting and I couldn’t handle the excitement.

Earlier that day we’d taken Benjamin to a thrift store to hunt for Mr. Man’s costume. Normally any trip to a store results in a near melt down by myself and definitely at least one tantrum from Benjamin. But with Mr. Man there to help we were able to divide and conquer.

“You look in that aisle, I’ll look in this one,” I said.

Between distracting Benjamin with fun games or “find me this or find me that” and rows and rows of used clothes we finally found every single piece of Mr. Man’s Joker costume; a purple suit, a purple tie and a green shirt. It was a minor miracle and I didn’t even break a sweat.

Later that afternoon we took Benjamin trick or treating with Mia and Sydney.

“Look, Benjamin, look! There’s another house,” Mr. Man would say while guiding my little monkey down the sidewalk. Once Benjamin couldn’t peddle anymore Mr. Man popped him up onto his shoulders and grabbed his feet, playing with him and pulling on his legs – making him laugh continuously, for minutes and minutes on end.

He wasn’t just falling for me, I realized, he was falling for both of us. This is the stuff you just can’t fake – not that men in the past have faked loving Benjamin but Mr. Man, a father himself, absolutely loves being one.

Almost as soon as we got back to Mia’s house, she ushered us out, “Go! Go have fun, get out of here!”

“Yeah, Mommy,” chimed Benjamin, “Go away! Me sleeping at Sydney’s house, kay?”

“Alright, we’re going, we’re going,” I said.

It wasn’t until our quiet walk down the street to my place that it dawned on us – for the first time since we’d met – we were going to have a date. We’d spent the past two weekends at my mom’s house surrounded by family, friends or Benjamin; unable between them all to find more than an hour or two alone.

After Mr. Man had his purple suit on, he sat down across from me so I could transform him into the Joker. As I started dabbing on the white paint, he rested his hands on my knees, running his thumb delicately over my hose and along the edge of my dress.

Between focusing on the job at hand, I would look into his eyes only to find that they were looking intently into mine. He wasn’t telling me how to put it on, wasn’t concerned or worried about seeing his reflection in a mirror. In fact, I don’t think he cared what I was putting on his face only that he had a chance to see mine so closely while I was completely focused on something other than life, work or Benjamin.

“I love seeing your smile,” he said.

“Shhhh…don’t move your lips.”

“Okay, but can I have a kiss first before you paint them?”

——-

One hour later we slipped away from the costumed masses on the street into a bar. I found a spot at an empty table and immediately started to think about everything, letting my mind run wild in fear.

“Why so serious?” he said in his deep Joker voice.

“I’m thinking about you,” I said while staring into my beer bottle, “and I’m scared.”

“You don’t have to be. I’m not going anywhere.” He paused, “I’m serious. I can see you and Benjamin in my future… as far as I can see actually.”

“Really? How? How do you know that?”

“It just feels so right to be with you. Look, I wasn’t expecting this either, wasn’t planning on it at all. I just know how I feel when I’m around you and I can’t see any reason why this can’t work.” And with that, covered in his Joker make up, now suddenly serious himself, Mr. Man convinced me to open my heart and my mind to the idea of a future with someone else in the picture.

“Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll give it everything I have. I can’t guarantee anything about where it will go, but I can guarantee you that I’ll try my very best.”

“This is just the beginning,” he said squeezing my hands, “and it’s only going to get better. I promise.”

And with that we headed into the night.

Maybe it was the way he guarded me from passing cars with his body, the way he held me when we danced or the way he asked about Benjamin when I looked at my phone – “How’s little Benjamin?” – I’m not quite sure what it was but I completely and absolutely let myself go, let myself drop a little further into that Rabbit Hole.

After hours of dancing, talking and dancing some more we hailed a cab for the ride home.

“What’s your name?” Mr. Man asked the cab driver.

“George.”

“George, is this not the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen?”

George looked at me in his rear view mirror, this slightly embarrassed and slightly intoxicated Tiger Lily with no story other than the mask covering her face and said, “Yes, she’s definitely pretty.”

“Well,” said Mr. Man, “I’m going to marry this girl!”

I can’t remember what I said, or if I said anything at all. I think I just smiled, the kind of smile Mr. Man loves to see, the kind I can’t control. And rather than opening up that cab door and jumping into the pavement possessed by fear, I scooted in closer to him, letting him wrap his arm around my shoulders.

“I am going to marry you,” he whispered into my ear.

“Whatever! You’re out of your mind, crazy man.”

My words were no good here, he just laughed and pulled me closer, “God, I love those lips and I sure do love that smile.”

We laughed the rest of the way home and by the time we pulled into my driveway George was laughing too.

To be continued…

If you can’t get enough Mr. Man stories, click here for more.

[Photo: my Halloween self-portrait, trying to get into character]

Related posts:

1. Pass the man blinders please.

I certainly hope not.

Not that I don’t believe in love or anything – I’m a huge fan of love. But fantasy ideas of finding “the one” or a “prince charming” can be reckless for your children and your self. Actually, it could save us all a lot of heartache if we entered relationships with our heads, keeping our hearts in check, while we assess our true compatibility with a man.

Read this article from Psychology Today to find out why.

[P.S. I found this while researching relationships! Scary stuff, I tell ya. My head by the way, is still very securely in place, and it feels wonderful. Another Mr. Man post is coming soon... just been busy catching up from our big trip this weekend.]

No related posts.

they fall hard.

My aunt told me this years ago.

The words didn’t make sense to me at the time. Every man I’d ever dated had been slow to fall or reluctant to fall. I just couldn’t imagine one actually falling as hard as she described, until now…

“I’m crazy about you. I just can’t stop thinking about you. Do you feel the same way at all?” He was laying it all out there. Putting his heart on a slab. So brave.

“No, not yet, not like that crazy. But, it takes longer for us – for single moms – for me. I can’t just let the rest of the world fall away. I have too many responsibilities. Finding time in the day to even think about you is hard.”

It had only been two weeks since we’d met.

“It takes time,” I said into his silence. “You’ve got a great shot though, you’re winning more points every day and I can’t wait to see you again.”

“Okay. Good. That’s all I need. But, God, I hope you feel the same way soon because now you’re starting to scare me.”

The ice, as you know, was melting.

One week earlier we’d spent another night together at my mom’s house. Curled up on the couch he wrapped his arms around my body, holding me tightly and stroking my hair away from my face while telling me stories and listening so intently to mine.

“Why don’t you shut up and kiss me?” I said.

He burst out laughing. “You’re so blunt. I love it!”

“I know, now kiss me already. What the hell?”

“I just love talking to you, I seriously can’t decide whether I want to kiss you or talk to you.”

“Well, I want a kiss.”

He kisses me so softly, so sweetly and then pulls me into his chest. Then holding me even tighter than before he breathes in deeply and exhales slowly with, “I never thought I could feel this way again.”

Rather than sending me into a panicked state of commitment phobia, his words just sink in. I think it’s the way he tells me about his feelings – with such conviction in his eyes and always in the right moment. And his actions speak volumes…

That afternoon he had taken me to see a musician friend of his. “You have to see this guy. He only plays for friends but he’s one of the best banjo players in the country.” He made the call, arranged for our visit and then took me to his hometown, deep in the hills.

After we were settled Mr. Man’s friend sat down, picked up his banjo and just started playing. His fingers moved so quickly my eyes couldn’t keep up with my ears. And the sound was something I’d never heard before. I’ve heard banjos, I’ve heard blue grass but nothing like this – so close, so clear.

Mr. Man, shouted out song requests and with each one looked over at me, “You have to hear this one.” As the music sucked me in and as I looked at Mr. Man only to find he was looking directly at me, I realized that this was a gift – something he wanted me to experience.

It’s not the only thing he’s given me. He’s given me a renewed hope in men… something I thought I’d completely lost.

——

Two weeks later, far from the woods, we were in the middle of the city preparing for a night out in a posh little neighborhood with a masquerade street party. We were about to have one of the best nights of our lives and I was about to start falling for Mr. Man.

To be continued…

If you can’t get enough Mr. Man stories, click here for more.

Related posts:

1. Fall at your own risk.
2. Can single moms really “fall in love”?
3. Baggage check: I won’t let myself fall in love.

Benjamin and I went to a dude ranch this weekend.

We started out together.

Then Benjamin demanded to ride by himself. He won over the ranch hand with his powerful persuasion tactics and took the reins.

And here he is, fleeing from me… knowing I was about to haul his butt into the car to head back to the city.

We spent the entire weekend out at Grandma’s… I saw my new dude as well.

He’s convinced – beyond all reason, perhaps – that we are destined for each other. I try to talk him off of the ledge, telling him it’s impossible for us to know anything yet but he’s not budging. He’s there and I’m still here – kind of confused. Trying to identify my emotions like some kind of scientist.

Slow, I tell him – very slowly – “Fall at your own risk.”

Then I let him wrap his arms around my waist, so tightly, and bury my head into his broad chest, trying to believe in a happy ending that involves a man. He runs his hands across my forehead and tells me everything will be fine, just fine. But I’m still unsure…

I’m not sure how it should feel, how I should be feeling. That busy brain of mine won’t stop thinking – overly analytical. He says he can tell when I’m thinking because my eyebrows furrow and I start biting my lips. He watches me constantly when we’re together, unable to take his eyes off of me. It’s so odd to have someone care so much.

But I’m a different woman now. I am a mother. I already have a full-time relationship with someone, not even to mention a full-time job.

More later (not sure when) but stay tuned…

Related posts:

1. Do day care bugs ever end?
2. A sweet little reunion.
3. He’s back.