Knowing the truth isn’t easy, and writing about it is even harder. But it’s like pornography: you know it when you see it. In my case it’s more like:  I know it when it hits me over the head like a six ton pile of penguins.

I am staying for a month in the little home of one of my new love interests, while he is out of town.  I went on a date with someone new last night, and went back to this house for the first time, alone. But first, the date.

Lafayette guy is probably the only man who’s made it this far who is just a regular guy. But don’t mistake regular for less than. Curly weird facial hair isn’t a  substitute for character any more than straight-laced knickers can size up a man. Lafayette’s face is sweet and charming. His body is big and soft…the body you have when you drink and eat a little too much because life has handed you too much, and a person has to put it somewhere.

If I weren’t so one hundred percent ME right now, all of this would be so different. But I came right out, even on the phone, with my current philosophy even before I met LG. I told him I’m just drinking in all that I can, seeing many people, and not putting expectations or limitations on anything. He didn’t blink. The truth is most guys are relieved by this admission, and the few who want to interview prospects for a chance at being “the one” can take a hike. A very few have, and good riddance.

LG was sweet, disarmingly so. His story is as compelling as any. We’ve all been hurt, and have had to find bravery in our bag of survival skills. We’ve had to sit with pain, then get up and keep going.

Most men approach me with swagger and grit. They tell me all the things they’re gonna do with/to me. As an aside, I never believe them, because I’ve found the more they say, the less they do in real life. These guys are more into the idea of them being real Casanovas than they are able to put forth the energy that might be required to pull off all that lovin’. They are generally self-absorbed and all that talk is for them, not me. Nothing wrong with that, but I just don’t pay it much attention.

LG, on the other hand, was very gentle in making any assumptions. I’m not sure that he could quite believe that we might hit it off and would see each other again.  We did, and we will. So, ha.

He took me out and he paid for dinner and he walked me to my car and stuff. Nice.

I went back to ADB’s house, and it was hard to walk in. First, I couldn’t open the door. I got the bottom lock but the top didn’t budge. I’m going to have to call him, I thought. I would so love to talk to him anyway…..and that is precisely why I did NOT call him. I’m not going to use circumstance to bring about my heart’s desire. It’s gotta be real, and there for other reasons, or I don’t want it. So I didn’t call him but instead figured it out myself. There was another door and it opened (now there’s a metaphor for ya.)

I went in and looked around. His house is full. My eyes weren’t able to rest on any one thing….but there  was a lot that made me vibrate and hum….books, records, kid stuff, bread in the fridge. I have known all along that I wouldn’t play his records, so I only glanced over enough to see George Jones and Dolly Parton staring back from 1967 or something. OK I did pick up George Jones, but the record seemed missing and I dropped that thread.

I picked out a few books, cuz books are fair game, grabbed some water, went upstairs, had a smoke on his deck, and climbed into bed. His bed. Wow. Weird.

I had asked him to leave me a recently worn T-shirt, and there it was. It smelled fresh. Boo. Until I buried my face in it, and there he was. Swoon. We had joked around about how if he was really cute he’d have left me a hidden note. He wasn’t really cute.  Or cute at all. I felt like a straight forward subletter, minus the shirt, but the shirt was my idea. Everything was straightened up, clean sheets, scrubbed tub…but nothing reached out to me, personally.

And that’s when the truth hit. I can’t say it out loud. If I did, I’m sure my Reluctant friend would tell me it’s too soon to know anything. I’m sure he’d say to give him a chance. But it hit me.

I’ve always said that you can know a person from the first ten minutes. That the way they treat you from the start is pretty much it. I’ve told myself this many times, since my natural inclination is to make excuses for everyone and everything.

ADB doesn’t really tuck me in, and anyone who knows me knows that’s something I sort of need. No blowing kisses, no making it easy. He’s woken up my heart, that is true. But my heart is dangling. It’s a creative place to be – agitated and whirling – but it’s a mirage. The more beautiful it feels, the farther away it really is.

Meantime, there are birds in my hand, treating me with care.

That’s all I can say. Knowing what I know isn’t knowing what I want I want to hear, but the truth is it’s enough to calm my ass down, slap me across the face , and lasso my head right out of the clouds.

In the end, I’ll follow sweetness and kindness and careful consideration to the moon and back. But the guy who shoots me into the atmosphere, high as a kite? Well, he’ll become a tiny little speck down below, until I can barely make him out. Sure, maybe I’ll fall back down to earth and into his arms, but the chances of hitting those arms without some skilled and determined navigation are pretty slim.

We’ll see, but don’t hold your breath. Cuz I’m sucking on the truth, however much it makes me go