Every little thing helps

This is part of my re-training. As I mentioned before, the vast majority of my relationships (with the exception of one, in high school) have taught me that there's usually something hidden. A nasty surprise waiting to let me know it's not all as I think it is. Something that hurts. New Fella doesn't know he's teaching me to trust and to let go of doubts and second-guessing. Doubts and second-guessing are still my knee-jerk reactions, even though I keep it to myself and flog myself with it privately. It'll get better.

One of the things that I get flogged with is Friday nights. He's notoriously impossible to reach on Friday nights. It's a time when I know he won't call, and doesn't call back. Guess how that sits with my paranoia? I know the facts -- he has team practice on Fridays and has been known to go to the movies with his kids on Fridays.

But my imagination tortures me. I must have a rotten little demon in there, whispering about him being out with someone else, someone better. Granted, there have been no expressions of "Let's be exclusive" or even references to "This is my girlfriend" or some such. So, at this point, he could see someone else. I could, too. I just don't want to, and have even turned down some dates recently.

And this week, I am aware that he does not have team practice on Friday. He will be getting home from work early, very early, this Friday. But I am not (hear me, little demon?) going to push that and make myself over-present, consuming his free time, and interjecting myself into all of his breathing space. No, no.

Last night, I notice it's post-game-time and he should be headed home. So, I call. He picks up immediately and his voice is chipper.

"I was just about to call you!" I make a joke about being psychic and he laughs. I love it when he laughs.
"How did the game go?"
"Great! We beat 'em 44-6. It's all just coming together. It's like every game we play, we are improving. The machine is working...." And he talks for a long time about his team. He's proud of them, and you can hear it in his tone. They are undefeated. He talks about his day. It was unusual and busy, but it went well and he's happy. His injured player is back at school. He gives me directions to Saturday's game. It starts about 10:00, but he has to be there very early. Ah-ha -- this is why he didn't offer to pick me up.

"And how was your day?" He asks. I really like that he asks, and listens to the answer. I sent him a text earlier in the day because I was absolutely overjoyed that a system upgrade that IT did actually worked and everyone was pleased. I'd said I was "doing a happy dance" and that he needed to dance with me, too.

"Well, it turns out I was a little premature on the happy dance." And I was. Oh well. This strikes him as very funny, and he about roars with laughter. "I had a few glitches come up, but they seem to have resolved all right. So, I got to dance again later."

"Like a Snoopy dance?" Yes! That makes me laugh. I remember Snoopy's dance, and it felt very much like that. So did this conversation.

"Yes, like a Snoopy dance! That's me!" He laughs some more, and it's a joyous sound - especially knowing the stresses he has at home right now.

I ask our usual Thursday question. "So, what does your weekend look like?" Other than the game - that's a given.

He thinks out loud. "Uhm....nothing. I think it's clear."

"So maybe we can do something later on Saturday, too." I still hesitate to make assumptions, and stick my toe in the water cautiously. I avoid mentioning the following night, Friday night.

"Yes, that's good," he says. "And what does tomorrow night look like for you, too? I won't have practice this time and will get home pretty early from work."

Snoopy dance! He has extra free time. And he wants to spend it with me.

Every little thing is teaching me, bringing me closer to how it's supposed to be. This is uncharted territory for me, but right now, it feels like Snoopy.