And so the dreams continue. …

The real reason that I think I am not into Phil, quite frankly, is because my mind was wandering on Friday night. Who was I thinking about? You guessed it … Brat.

I was wishing that I were looking across the table into green eyes, not brown ones. I was reliving the previous Friday night, remembering that the next morning, he made me breakfast. And even if Brat were the remotest bit interested in me, he didn’t make a single move. I think, if Brat might have the same feelings for me that I have for him, he is smart. He knows that I require a bit more effort than the average woman. I’m tired of games, no question about that, but courtship is a dance. When someone just puts it out there that he is interested (like Phil does), I think it’s cute and I get bored. With Brat, I am guessing and subsequently, my own interest is intensifying. It will be a real letdown if this is only one-sided. But I will live.

It is the series of memories and dreams involving Brat that keeps me alive. While I may never truly get over CH and the abortion, I thinkt that what has kept me going through these very difficult past few months was the promise of a tomorrow with a wonderful man. I hope Brat is that man. I have never met anyone like him. And I don’t think I will again, if I were to let him go without a fight.

That Friday at the Creekhouse, he gestured for me to walk in front of him. He always does that. Always holds doors for me, even if I opened them and told him to go through before me (never would he do that, but I wouldn’t think it wrong, if ever he did). Always insists that I go first up the stairs or in the hallway, when we can’t walk beside each other. There are so many instances of chivalry that I have noticed. Finally on Friday, I looked right at him and told him that I wasn’t quite used to being treated so well … that he has real manners. He looked squarely in my eyes and replied that his mother taught him well. I replied that, yes, she did.

Judy was just thrilled by the stories I was telling her last night. She loved how he offered to drive me home because Colin was acting goofy; she fawned over his concern that Maddie needed to be fed; and she absolutely gushed over the comment about his mom. Said that he’s clearly a wonderful man, and she wishes that I can have him as a permanent fixture in my life. Said I deserve somebody like him. Said she loves him more and more, with every story that I tell. And that he gives credit to his mother, well, that clinched it for her. Said I’ve got to love a man who loves his mother.

(In Steve-o’s case, he loved his mother and was seeking a girlfriend to take the place of his mother, so I won’t jump on that one! But I do see her point — Brat was truly brought up right.)

One other story that made Judy happy (oh, and me, too!): On Monday, we had a leadership meeting (read: public humiliation debacle) in scenic downtown Homewood (yay gang violence). At lunch, Brat and CTL and I met outside to eat and smoke together. Brat stood up and said he was going inside and wondered if we needed a drink. CTL said no, and I said yes. When he came back, he handed me a cup and said apologetically, “It’s not sausage and eggs.”

Sausage and eggs, of course, is what he had made me for breakfast only two days before.

So I said gently, “Next time.” I also said it with certainty, with expectance.

CTL asked what we were talking about. Practically in unison, we said, “Nothing.” And we shared a little smile.

Anywho, I find Brat to be such a fascinating individual. And he is the challenge, the intellectual equal and opponent I desire. He’s up on world events, he remembersmy stories and he has plenty of activities and stories of his own to contribute. I find myself being mesmerized by him.

Even when we are together and not saying a word, I am happy. And whether we are 10 feet apart or within two inches of each other, I can feel him. I want him to be aware of me, to feel incomplete without me. And if he is already, I want him to realize it.

Perhaps it’s the sincerity in his eyes that draws me to him. I don’t know. Mom used to say that when J.O. and I were in photos together, we both lit up around each other. At any rate, I know what she meant — that we were so close and so attuned to each other that we blossomed around each other, so much that it was visible in our eyes. Are my eyes glowing when I see Brat? I have no doubt about it. I know that, when I look into his eyes, I feel so calm yet so excited all at once. And even when he is having a miserable day at work (by the stories he tells, and given our environment, miserable days are to be expected), when he looks at me, he seems OK. I always wish I could make it better for him, and I always tell him that. And I sincerely would like to take away any unpleasantness in his life — if I could kiss it all away and be his source of happiness, I think I would be content on so many levels, for a long time to come.

And that’s just a scary admission for me to make. “Forever” isn’t really a word that I utilize in my vocabulary. And I’m not ready to integrate it just yet, either. But I’m willing to think about it.

But we hav so much in common. From religion (the lack of it) to music (rock and alternative), we never run out of things to talk about. And maybe, just maybe, if we would ever find a gap in the conversation, perhaps we can occupy our lips in another way!

And so the dreams continue. …

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