I feel like blogging. And not just any blogging, but the sort I did years ago, during the hey-day of the genre.
The topic? Romantic inclination. (See those seatbelts? You may want to buckle them.)
So it turns out that I'm seeing a guy. Yes, that's right. I am *seeing* him.
Who knew? I spent three years in a gay mecca after the split with my ex, and no one paid much interest.* And now that I've moved south to an exceedingly rural (albeit LOVELY) location, I have a suitor. Go figure.
To be honest, I like this man. I like him a lot. We knew each other a couple decades ago in Arizona, but we never had a chance to foment a friendship. Now, however, all that has changed. Thank you, Facebook.
I don't know what the future brings. I do know that as of a few weeks ago, we at least Viber (free texting) each day. And we also Skype. A lot. (In fact, a helluva lot.) I'm not complaining.
Wait! Skype, Viber? Why not just meet up? While that is an awesome question, dear Reader, it is also one I hate to answer.
He lives in the US. I live in Australia. Math, anyone?
He and I don't talk much about the elephant sitting in the corner. (I think that creature must migrate easily, because sometimes she haunts me and sometimes him. I keep meaning to ask her how she travels so readily.)
I only know that I am very fond of this beautiful, beardy, smart, funny man. I will attempt a mindful approach to this burgeoning [whatever]. If it works, you know I'll be dancing. If not, then I have known a man who helped me transition from nothing to something. Oh, okay, much more than something. So much for playing it cool.
* Except for the occasional 18 y/o on Grindr. Really?