close encounters on the way home from the grocery store

i gave the bathroom a thorough cleaning, finished up the laundry, and then walked the dog. a fairly typical Sunday (a day for industry and efficiency), except that c has been out all day on a date with her "for the most part" guy.

she did some marketing yesterday while i was hanging out with Sarah, but i wanted to pick up a few more things for the week, and some green tea ice cream for the Mad Men premiere tonight. i also needed a new toothbrush, not to mention drano. i've been bearing with a clogged sink for more than two weeks now. it finally became unbearable.

ripped jeans, a cleanser-stained t-shirt, and a smudgy pink hoodie are my ensemble. nude lips. bare ears. completely unadorned and schmada as Sarah would say.

anyway, i was walking home, very mindful of my ice cream and the heat--still oppressive at this time of day. deep into the narrative of the audiobook i was listening to on my iPod, and pulling my grocery cart behind me at a good clip, i started to imagine the most seductive evening of television watching. ice cream, candlelight, and Don Draper in Baltimore circa 1964.

i saw him first. for a split second i hoped it wasn't him. not because i don't look great at the moment, but because seeing him now, weeks before i am supposed to see him, felt like a violation of something.

spontaneously, i invited him (via evite) to a small gathering at my house scheduled for early next month. i didn't take a moment to consider why i was doing it. per Malcolm Gladwell's Blink, these "in an instant" reactions and decisions are the ones to trust. Besides, an e-mail he'd sent early last month opened the door. i wasn't thinking of it as a "door" at the time, but clearly it was because i had chosen to reciprocate in some way, and this was it.

anyway, it was definitely him. things are rarely convenient. we stopped and talked. in typical fashion, i tried to walk away before the encounter was over to protect myself from wanting it to be anything in particular, but he kept talking. so i kept talking. and it got easier to stand there telling anecdotes, giving the condensed version of my life.

eventually, i made my back home, my ice cream melted in the warmth of the sun, the narrator of my book intoning her internal conflict over the one who got away...

close encounters in my pajamas

Crystal and i hosted a game night at our place this evening. about half of our invitees ended up canceling, but our small group still deserved the best hostessing we could provide, so we planned to go to the store for some last minute stuff...

we decided to take babygirl with us. there was no specific plan. after a morning of tidying up, puttering about, and watching Gilmore Girls, I decided it was time to head out. Once outside, we decided to walk up St. Paul and not cross immediately over to Charles. We took some time to discuss it before Settling on our route.

Before leaving, Crystal asked "aren't you going to change your pants?"

I was wearing hot pink, flannel pj bottoms with coffee cups and saucers all over them. On top, I had on a jersey grey long johns top and a bright red t-shirt over it. My jacket? tan corduroy. On my head? a slate grey bandana. In other words, I was not of a mind to put my best foot forward. Obviously, I didn't expect to need to care about my appearance.

There he was. On the corner of St. Paul and Read. I saw him a full block ahead and waved. It took him a second, but he saw me and waved back. He headed over to us.

Yesterday, we made plans via e-mail to get together on Wednesday. He couldn't make game night because of work...

When he got to where we were standing, I looked down at my pants and up at him and shrugged. I didn't look great but I didn't care.

Earlier this week, my hhg told me to invite him into what I want from him. I know that running into him today could be chalked up to probability. we live in the same neighborhood. though i've gone entire years never runnng into him, eventually, because of the few blocks that separate us, I did. I know that.

But I've also noticed that I run into him when something in me summons him up. When I pray to be open to whatever wants to happen...

the city, late september, at night

We saw him while we sat on the corner of St. Paul and Eager; he was headed to the City Café to meet us. He seemed to be looking at the car, but we couldn’t be sure. He seemed to recognize us, but again, I couldn’t be certain.

Crystal dropped me off in front of the restaurant and went to find parking. I was standing there in what is arguably the most flattering shirt and the most flattering black, flare-legged pair of pants I own (they create the illusion of a longer, more lithe look on me), cutting a striking figure.

Once it was established that sitting outside was not going to happen (who can resist sitting outside on these gorgeous, fading summer days?), we settled at our table and put in an order of Calamari and a bottle of Australian Shiraz. I noticed him admiring the shirt and that was it right there. All the payoff I’d ever need. For the rest of my life, whatever else happens, I’ll know that I made the right decision about that blouse.

Not having seen him since the last real day of August, I was just a bit nervous, and there were one or two moments of not having much to say, because the only thing to say, really, is: I want you. Do you want me?

And I wouldn’t have said that, because there are a few conversational footbridges between where we are and that declarative/interrogative.

Lovely buffer and all around charmer that she is, my sister breezed in and regaled us with tales of all the men that hit on her yesterday—all owing to the classic red scoop neck sweater of mine she borrowed. Once the Shiraz was uncapped, there were no more slight snags. I had to remember to keep my hands to myself, not touch his arm to punctuate too many sentences. At the same time, it was important to not be so over vigilant that I came across stony. The goal was to be real and keep it real, but to never let that make me sloppy with desperate energy.

So. When our legs touched briefly under the table, I didn’t fight it. And I allowed myself one unapologetic arm touch.

The appetizer and wine portion of the program was smashing. To keep our progressive dinner progressive, we made quick work of the check, and headed across the street to Sushi at Minato.

During this briefest of jaunts, he complimented me on the wine selection and touched my arm/back as he did. There was such a current.

I should mention here that C kept pointing out how lovely I looked, kept asking Mr. Close Encounters if he liked my hair cut, and didn’t he love my shirt. At one point, I said “She gave me this shirt for my birthday.” He smiled, understood her compliments of me in the context of her own self-perceived fashion genius. Actually, he didn't smile. He laughed generously.

I knew I wanted a Zentini (green tea martini), so I ordered one promptly. C and Mr. CE shared sake, but he thoughtfully asked our server to bring a third cup in case I decided to join them. I did, eventually, and it was so much sweeter than the last time I had some.

He seemed amused, happy to be there.

As we reached the car, the lingering hug I’ve come to anticipate from him began on cue. A friendly kiss on the mouth, then he folded C into our embrace. And we didn’t let go for a long time…