Of Blueberry Cobbler Coffee and the Unexpected

During the course of my second, somewhat inorganic stint on an online personals site, I came across the profile of a man I'll call Jarvis St. Croix, and was intrigued. Intrigued enough, anyway. I wrote to him. Then I met the nudist-oh-i'm-also-into-soft-core-fetishes guy and my second go 'round on the "find a date" wheel ground to a halt. The nudist provided clarity. I was trying to force something that did not feel natural. What is more, I wasn't really over Mr. Close Encounters.

Fast forward to today: The day on which my dining room wall was rescheduled to be painted pumpkin (not pumpKING as I errantly typed a post or two back), and the day on which some computer issues at work made it infinitely easier for me to come home and work, the day on which Jarvis St. Croix instant messaged me.

Months ago after my "Who am I kidding, exactly?" moment, i wrote to Jarvis St. Croix and told him the truth. The truth being, that my overture toward him aside, I was begging off dating and perusing the personals for a series of practical reasons. The timing was off and didn't want him to think I'm simply dropped off the face of the Earth. He appreciated my candor, and let me know that if I ever found myself wanting to grab a coffee, he'd be up for it.

A door that was never fully closed, but that I, in any case, did not care to test by pushing, is now ajar. He said he'd call sometime. Could be fun.

Oh, and I'm drinking blueberry cobbler coffee while I write. Sarah is sitting across from me diligently attending to her homework.