He tells me he wants to take me to dinner.
And he knows I’ll say no. Knows I’ll say he doesn’t have to.
But he tells me he wants to take me to dinner, because I deserve it.
We met the day before New Years. I don’t know why, but I instantly felt comfortable with him.
He was artistic, smart, creative. He wanted more from life than what he had at that moment and would work for it. Had worked for it. He was interesting, conversation flowed easily, and, well, his cheekbones were unreal.
So we went back to mine and in the morning, I didn’t feel the need to kick him out.
I couldn’t say why, even to this day, but, instead of making him leave so I could go get ready, take a shower, put on makeup, I let him stay, face buried in my pillow, sunlight on his face.
And when I woke him up, and he looked at me all bleary-eyed, and said, “Oh, you look beautiful,” I knew something was different this time.
It wasn’t anything that lasted long. It wasn’t a relationship, and we didn’t talk too much when we weren’t together. But, he was someone I liked cuddling me as I fell asleep. I liked waking up beside him.
My friend nicknamed him ‘butt-scratcher’ when I referred to him as someone who scratched a much-needed itch.
I don’t know if the itch was semi-regular sex, companionship, or a mixture of the two. But I think it was more the latter than the former.
It didn’t end well. It ended with me waiting for him to show up, and he never did. And I never really heard from him again.
I’m not bitter, not anymore. I don’t resent him for it.
He knew about my blog, and he said he wanted to be ‘more than one story,’ and for a while, I thought he didn’t deserve to be anything afterward. Didn’t get to be a story, a part of the narrative.
Because Butt-scratcher showed me something I hadn’t realized. And so he gets this. One post. This one part of my story.
I was ready for something I had previously run full force away from.
I was ready for that person to wake up beside me. I was ready to share my space with someone. Keep a toothbrush in my cabinet for when they spent the night.
So, if nothing else. I owe him thanks.
A thank you for letting me dip my toes in the water.
A thank you for kisses on my forehead and fingers entwined in mine.
A thank you for being a stepping stone and a push in a different direction.
Because who knows what our future might have held, but, now I can envision futures.
And that is exciting, terrifying, and new.