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Day 253: He Kissed Me

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Friday, September 17, 2010

At the end of our first date in New Hope, he gave me a bouquet of sunflowers and said, "These are for bringing sunshine into my life." [god bless eharmony.com which I hated every second of until now…]

And the second date was just as dreamy…

We met in Princeton after work and had dinner at some swanky restaurant. My tushy looked fierce in my tight green dress [it’s the same green dress from earlier this summer – my tush just looks better in it.] After dinner, he put quarters in my car meter [I totally had my own quarters from the laundrymat] and we headed off for a walk around Princeton University and their majestic gardens.

And somewhere after him whispering something inaudible and me leaning in to hear - he kissed me. Not the usual grabby groper kiss. Or the succubus-trying-to-
inhale-my-brain-through-his-
mouth-kiss. This kiss was sweet and tentative - like my lips were special.

What could be better? Great guy. Great dates. We even have fun just sitting around doing nothing [coolness].

Well, let’s just say after the second date - pardon my pig latin - but I went my version of bat "it-shay" crazy.

I started thinking about him opening every door and the unending compliments that would make any girl swoon and the insisting on paying for every date [and I offered - that's why I interrupt my beauty sleep to go to the work place so I can pay for food...]

But it was just downhill from there - 24 hours of angsting - because I don't know how to date Mr. Wonderful. But I have tons of experience dating men who were a reflection of my own self-hatred and disconnection to my true self. Yes, that life was ions ago and a mountain of self-esteem has repaired the empty places - but it's not like the new life and body comes with a Diva manual.

Learning to live again is hard work. And at every emotional juncture I am reminded that I must earn this. I must sort and re-sort through the aftermath of my unhealthy "old" life to embrace my new life.

It is work. And it's just part of the weight loss gig. Anyway...

Commence emotional breakdown now.

I started compiling a speech to him in my head. I planned on coming “clean” to Craig in my never-ending quest of owning my past. [Yes, I know - ticket for one to Crazy Town.]

I would tell him about all of the men the old “me” dated who said hurtful things like “You have a pretty face but it’s a shame about the body” or “you can’t meet my mother because your thighs are too big.”

About the comments from relatives or “friends” or exes that claimed I was broken or odd or just not perfect enough for their warped ideals.

About how I was really content to never date again after my eharmony subscription expired, mostly because it makes me feel like I have know idea how to relate to the opposite sex.

And yet here he is.

He volunteers [so cool]. He is a well-adjusted, smart, nice, normal guy who likes to fix things [yummy]. He always says I am awesome and beautiful [so smart and so accurate]. We have so many values in common [score]. And when I asked out of curiosity if he wanted me to cook on the magic flame box, he said something about being able to feed himself. [I think I heard harps playing...]

Still I was all prepared to give my ill-prepared, Crazy Town speech so I called him. [Note to self: Shut up.]

He was so excited to hear from me - I totally forgot what I was going to say.

"So what do you want to do next?" He blurted. He listed a bunch of cool destinations like Cape May, New York, Philadelphia, Red Bank and other stuff you would have to sedate me to do - like hiking and whitewater rafting [but it was exciting nevertheless].

“I don’t care. I just want to be with you,” he says sweetly. [swoon]

I remember sitting in my bed on New Year's Eve of last year completely miserable and binging - thinking I will change my life if it's the last thing I do. I refuse to watch other people be happy while I pretend to live.

Boy, how things have changed.

And I have changed them.

Imagine that.
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