I'm loving the weather on the Western Slope. Fall arrives just when I'm sick of summer. I get sick of summer pretty early in the season. School starts and BAM! I'm done with heat. Old BF called the other day (oh yes, he is still dependent on what I think. What does that say?). He's in Dallas and it was 95 degrees and humid. The high here today is 70 degrees. Thunderstorms expected. The lows are in the 40s. We've actually used our wood-burning stove a couple of times. The mornings are glorious! Which makes my thoughts ramble -- as though you couldn't tell already -- as I sit here in my big office with my steaming cup of herbal tea (Tazo's Wild Sweet Orange. Yum!).
I've read a few blogs and comments today, which feeds my ramblings. Thank you, blog-pals! I've had cozy thoughts about New Fella. I probably won't talk to him tonight, as his game is 110 miles away. He'll probably stay with his friend (the one I wasn't introduced to) tonight in the town where he works, which is 80 miles away. There's no cell service at this man's house, in the mountains. And there's likely to be some celebrating with the team tonight. This is the last game of a perfect-record season. The closest game was a 16-point victory. If they win tonight, some small-town pizza joint is getting slammed with a very excited bunch of 8th-grade boys, and their coaches, teachers, and families.
New Fella has been a little cranky this week. It's an exhausting week for him. But I know he loves to be a smartass, so I let him hassle me about what I was cooking for dinner. It made us laugh, which was a good sound to hear.
We got talking about birthdays. I said something about how it kills me to hear the music of my high school years on the classic rock station. He pointed out that it's better than the rockers he listened to in high school...who are all dead. I thought a little bit about our age difference. It doesn't bother me. I think it bothers my mother, though. My folks were young when they had me. Heck, my birth made my grandmother a grandmother at 35. So, New Fella is actually a little closer to their age than mine. Twelve years older than me and nine years younger than them. He showed me some family pics a couple of weeks ago, and was kind of bashful about it. They were of his four-year-old grandson. His son, the troubled one, fathered this child when he was 18. He repeated a couple of times that this was his grandson. I think he expected it to bother me. It didn't. For Pete's sake, his oldest child is 28. Did he think it hadn't occurred to me that he was old enough to have a grandchild?
The other night, my son was asking about New Fella's kids. See, my kiddo has been proud of the fact that if you count up his half-siblings and step-siblings, he's oldest of seven kids. New Fella has three kids - 28, 23, and 15. My son was shocked, but not for the reason I thought. "Wait a minute!" he said. "If you marry this guy, I won't be the oldest anymore! Dangit!"
I had to laugh. He's getting waaaaaay ahead of me, but I love his priorities as far as judging if this would be a good or bad thing.
So. We're going on eight weeks of dating, as of Friday. Roughly two months. I read something that really made me think. A friend of mine back in Texas has been reading this new book about "catching" a man (she's a 38-year-old virgin), in which the author claims a man will wait to have sex with a woman if he's interested in her for the long term. That hasn't held true for the previous men I've had lengthy relationships with, but it could be holding true for New Fella. As was mentioned in Hor-gal's comments here, this is proving to be a good thing.
Mind you, we had those few, very passionate, minutes against the wall in his foyer that one afternoon that were enough to let us know that sex between us could be...well...spectacular. Just those few minutes left me trembling for hours. He said then that we needed "more time, to do this right." That time alone hasn't presented itself, but he let me know this isn't something he's taking lightly. Good. I'm not either.
And the things that have prevented that time alone have done more to add dimension and depth to our relationship than I think sex would. Like I said, I'm in uncharted waters for this Blogget-girl, with a man who does things in his own way. It seems to be my kneejerk reaction to rush, but that's a bad impulse that I'm fighting. So, I don't feel like I have a good grasp on when I might be pushing, when I don't mean to.
Okay, better stop rambling for awhile. Work has intruded on my blog-time, and someone has pissed me off. Maybe I'll blog about that later. ;o)
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