Di & Melissa ended up scuttling the workout/mall plans today, so i found myself loafing around in the afternoon, and decided to return a phone call from friday afternoon.
after the random “hey, we haven’t spoken in 2 months, hi, what’s up” message i had a week ago, the guy managed to catch me on im a few days later. he apologized for being a jerk at the time, and said he needed to get his head straight, and had therefore taken a break from dating for a while. we proceeded to type a completely civil & enjoyable conversation, where instead of being as snarky as i’d pondered, i instead merely warned him, “here’s the deal about our ‘chemistry’: you take yourself very seriously. i don’t take much of anything seriously outside of the surgery suite. you will say things that are important, and i will laugh. you will think i’m trivializing you and being the bitch of the world. i’m not, it’s just that few things really are a big deal, and most things are funny.” he thinks he can manage.
we had another nice chat while i was en route to Trish’s for the 4th. huh.
he left a message friday while i was in a lunch-meeting, and i was running around too much to get back to him, which brought us to early this afternoon. after recounting the previous night’s trip to baltimore and the picnic basket of wine and cheese (“oh, wow, i need to hang out with you more often, you eat better than i do”), he asked if i’d like to go for a drive and get a late lunch in old town alexandria. why not?
we zipped through wooded back roads for a good chunk of the way, him driving like an 18 year old feeling his oats, or like a stock car racer (Chris, he’d give you a run for your money back in your delivery days). instead of white-knuckling, i just closed my eyes and enjoyed the breeze rushing in through the sun roof, and life was good. we ate lunch on the patio at a wonderful thai restaurant, and watched the people go by and the airplanes coming in to nearby reagan international. “i could watch airplanes all day,” i said, and he laughed, “especially with a cocktail in hand, right?” we walked along the waterfront, he got a street magician to do a card trick (i got to feel clever & explain later how it was done), we people-watched from a park bench overlooking the potomac, we critiqued the offerings in an art gallery. after a spot of ice cream, he says, “i know just where we should go,” and we drove off to this sand-and-scrub grass little park. it was packed all out of proportion to the attractions of the tiny boat slip and muddy little puddle the pair of jet skis were circling. at my incredulously raised eyebrow, he asked if i knew where we were. “uh, the airport?” i replied, pointing at the backside of reagan. he just kind of smiled, told me to tilt the seat back, and enjoy. i’m laying back, getting comfy with my head on his shoulder and his arm around mine, when we’re surrounded by the massive roar of jet engines in close proximity, and a us air jet makes the leap from the ground to the sky right over our heads. families on picnic blankets, kids running around, those intrepid souls on the jet skis: every head turns to watch the plane ramp upwards higher to the clouds.
“god, i love physics,” i say. “the planes?” he asks. “oh, yes, the planes and air-lift velocity, and the angles in people’s leg joints as they walk, and the friction of car tires on a curvy road when people are driving too fast.”
he kissed me with a bit more finesse than previously, and i laughed, and turned to watch the next plane make it’s skyward leap. “oh man,” he groaned, “that whole laughing at everything thing takes some getting used to, i don’t know if i’m doing something right or something wrong.” i assured him that amusement was always a good thing and settled back into his shoulder. he started nibbling on my ear, and good god, there it was: that moment of ignition, that had been lacking with most everyone i’ve dated in the last year.
so now there’s promise in things again. it might not work out – he’s far from perfect, and so am i – but now i get to know that it’s not me, i’m not broken.