well, now

That's more like it.

Boy #1 is history. Old, dead, defunct, dry, moth-eaten history. [Yawn.]

Onto Boy #2.

I've known this one for awhile now, seen him about town, etc., knew he was interested but never encouraged him till recently, when I thought, What the hell? Why not. So I gave him just the teeniest bit of encouragement last week, and Bam! we're dating.

I'll call him CB, for Cowboy. This one, a bit like Boy #1, loves things that go fast and wreck other things. He also likes the great outdoors, killing the things that live there, or setting it on fire. He raises horses and pigs. He drives a huge and fast truck.

He's also the consummate gentleman. I haven't had to open a door for myself since I started seeing him -- truck door included. He won't let me do any dishes or help with the cooking; he won't let me pay for anything at all; he concerns himself with my comfort; he does all the work and all he wants me to do is sit there and be happy.

A girl could get used to this.

Actually, after most of a life of taking care of others and myself with as little help from anyone else as possible, I protest a little bit about not being able to do anything and having all my own needs taken care of. I mean, what's up with that? But whenever I say something like, But I want to help! or, You really don't have to do that, he just looks at me and crooks a grin and says, Get used to it.

Now, I'm refusing to do what I usually do and go all ga-ga and filmy eyed with soft-lensed visions of fat barefoot babies and tire swings. Nope; this is just dating, and it's just for fun. But he has surprised me. On a number of fronts. So I've decided to enjoy the surprises, take all the spoiling I can get, and see how well these two very differently backgrounded people who both also apparently love direct communication work together.

But so far, with my own New Deal, this is turning out exactly like I'd hoped. Life has more zest. Waking up brings me pleasure with a hint of excitement. Even my job is more fun.

Oh, two points of interest:

1.) My cat likes him. This is something of a minor miracle. My cat has only liked two men in my history of owning him, and neither of those previous two have been men I dated. Interesting.

2.) This boy has never been to college, doesn't do much reading. He's a cowboy. But he told me that what drew him to me from the first was my intelligence. That my being so smart meant he wouldn't have to worry about me because I know my own mind and don't need other people to make it up for me. This is something I've never heard before. I spend most of my time pretending I'm not as smart as I am, so as not to put the men off, and they usually mumble something about "big words" and vamoose anyway. CB likes the big words, figures out what I'm saying from the context. I've never felt more relaxed about speaking the way I speak, instead of performing mental contortions trying to reword my sentences in a way that doesn't sound too educated.

So I'm pretty happy with all this. And he's the one doing all of the calling and most of the texting; I'm just sitting back and having fun. And reminding myself not to take it seriously. (This is new to me, after all.)

Can't put more than one hook in the water, though. I think he's leaning toward a slightly more serious side of things, while reserving that interesting male skittishness toward the M-word, and even though I'm not (yet) serious in any fashion, I still just can't go out with somebody else. Now if things don't work out with CB, I'm jumping back on the horse and going after another right away; but until then, I guess you have to call me a one-man girl. True blue. Tunnel visioned. One-track-minded. Whatever you want. This hook is plenty of fun all by itself.