I just got home from dinner date number two with a very nice man. He thoughtfully picked an Italian restaurant near my town, and the conversation was good. He’s pleasant, polite, educated and attractive. I decided to drink water, not wine.
He told me I was beautiful, and he wants to see me again tomorrow. But I don’t feel excited, and nothing is stirring inside of me (and I do mean nothing, as in, my out-of-control sex-drive got snuffed out like a candle at bedtime… poof… nothing left but a small billow of smoke).
I miss the Belgian tonight – madly. He’s the only person in this world who knows who I really am and still loves me anyway. He just keeps coming back, and I continue to be amazed by that.
I build walls – he merely climbs over them as if they weren’t there at all. I realize I don’t know how to let someone love me. It feels itchy and uncomfortable. But somewhere deep inside of myself, I know for sure that he does love me, and it feels surprising… and comforting… and unfamiliar.
He’s going to try to come for Christmas, and I couldn’t be happier about that. I hope with all of my heart that I can express to him the love I feel for him without the battles and the walls.