How the tables have turned.

There are some things I just don't like to admit. Sometimes they are stupid things. Like sometimes I get caught dancing at my desk by my co-worker. Or I like to wear pink panties, but never pink clothes on the outside - cuz pink is lame and weak. Or I like toilet humour - a lot. I can't admit these things, and will even go so far to mock others who do and like the same things. It is silly and childish. But I do it.
I am a closet romantic. I love cheesy movies, sappy songs and romantic boys. Everyone thinks I like hard, bad boys who are rough and tumble and fresh from a fight. I do portray a personality like this, but true be told, it isn't me.
I want a man to bring me flowers and cuddle with me while I cry over Bell Commercials and dancing bears in captivity... and the whole time, he is crooning Bryan Adams songs to me - just me.

Why am I rambling about this now? Good question. I think it is because I went out with a friend last night... and somewhere between the first drink and the cheesecake we shared, it became a date.
Of course, due the a brute force of irony... I didn't find out if it was a date. And all this what if - ing has culminated in a massive romantic day dream. I shall explain.

I am having a rough day at work - coming back after nearly two weeks off - horrible getting back into the groove.

My cell rings. It is Bookworm. He has returned from Oz and wants to meet for drinks. I welcome the time to catch up, and just have something to look forward to and the end of this horrid day.

I secretly wonder if he will invite anyone to join us. The last time he called and asked me out, by the time I arrived, DW was there and joined us. At the time I was delighted, in light of my massive crush of 2005. But when I arrive at our chosen location, he arrives alone... and we sit.

He has suggested a place that I am fond of, and he knows this, and it is a darker place. Romancy- maybe not - but full of secuded booths, wierd music and poor lighting.

We begin to catch up and talk about our holidays with family and how they are all crazy. He seems to be very attentive and caring regarding some of my stories, even goes so far as to hold out his hand for me to place mine on it.. and gently squeezes it.
I always enjoy talking to him, as we never run out of things to talk about. We have a fair amount of common interests but have had very different life experiences. Makes for fresh talk.
I start to notice how his boyish smile is actually much more attractive than I remembered. How did I miss that? Oh wait, our conversation has taken a wierd twist while I was attending to the features on his face...
We are talking about the kind of woman he needs, the man I need. Hey wait, is he kinda describing me? A woman to challenge him, to argue with him? Yes, that sure the fuck is me. What's that, you say, you want a strong woman who says what she thinks? My god, how many times has that bitten me in the ass. Can this really be our conversation?
There are more things of interest that we talk about, we get into a debate as to whether it is better to improve yourself before you fall in love, or use love to spring board you to better things? I saw his point, being that you should do it for yourself - but I felt he needed to know I believe that love entails you wanting to be a better person for not only yourself, but for your love. It is just right. It was a delicious debate none the less. I cannot do it justice at this moment.
Then the conversation veers back to family. He talks about how he wants me to go to dinner at his mother's to meet her. Why does he want me to meet his mother? That seems like a 7th date sort of thing. Only we aren't dating.

We talk about Al Gore a bit. We both have an interest in American Politics. He is part American ( don't hold that against him) and I just find it interesting in its complexity. He asks if I have seen Gore's movie yet. I haven't of course, cuz everyone I know already saw it. He says we should go see it. Why that is a movie date maybe. After the mother thing, it has more value than just a movie. Could be stretching to see what I want here... but with all the rest of the things... well. who knows.

Then the strange ironic moment calls. DW calls and comes and joins us. Strangely familiar. I access and decide this is not part of the plan. BW seems slightly disappointed, but a friend in need...etc. He is too good to refuse. DW got dumped the night before ( oh by the way, he was at my house on the phone when it happened).

So there I am, with the two most frustrating, facinating, confusing boys I know. Well, there are others who are just the same, you know who you are Jerk, but that is neither here nor there.

The night goes on, it is good. We tend to the wounded puppy. He is so sad that he got dumped.

Time for a cigarette, which I have been denying myself, as BW is a reformed smoker, and I know he hates that I smoke. But DW smokes too, so I feel safety in numbers. BW says he will stay and guard the table, and I just suggest he just come, no one is going to steal our empty pitcher.
We go outside and he holds out his arm so I can nuzzle in his shoulder for a minute. Almost declaring me if you will. He has issue with my previous infatution for sure. I accept his attention for a minute and pull away as I don't want to smoke on him.

Later, we go to Bookworms house, so the boys can smoke a little something special. Have another drink and play with the neighbours dog. It is nice.
Hugs goodbye all around and a cab home. His last comment of the night is how he will see me on Friday at the card game.

I plan on asking when our "movie date" will be.