So it turns out there’s one guy I’m not currently afraid of:
Mr. Sweetface! For the last month or so I haven’t known what to do with in. I
was feeling hesitant about poly and we’re both going through a lot at home. For
some reason, I was inspired this week to invite him to join me at the Cute
Neighborhood Music Thing that my adorable alt-country duo church friends run. I
liked the idea of listening to the music with my head on a nice warm shoulder,
sidling up to his faintly leather-scented warmth.
So, for the first time in I don’t know how long, I put on
makeup after work, curled up the ends of my needs-to-be dyed hair into a flip.
I wore red lipstick and my red date-night raincoat, even though it’s still a
little too chilly.
The venue’s a historic Mennonite meetinghouse; the Cute
Church Couple live on its grounds. There are tall candles in all the windows
and Cute Church Girl made vanilla cupcakes from scratch.
When Mr. Sweetface joined me, a band with the working title
“Poor No-Name Cat” was playing and I was enjoying the Breakfast at Tiffany’s reference and the soulful lady singer,
singing torch songs in French like it was a café in a movie. I was nervous when
he came in—we’ve never had a pants-on date before, so I didn’t know what to
expect. He took my hand and I did put my head on his shoulder, kind of swooned
along to the music and felt a kind of rest I hadn’t felt in a long time. “I
missed you,” I whispered, and he said he’d missed me too.
After the show (They booked me to open next month! First
time reading poetry in almost two years!) he drove me home and we curled up on
the couch and talked about all the things—his family stuff, the Big Therapy
Project (to tell a guy that story and have him hold me protectively is it’s own
therapy…), our similarly LSD-fond pasts. We compared the perils of teaching
with the perils of parenthood--both involve doing one’s best and feeling like a
jerk a lot, it turns out. He got deeply emotional talking about his son and it felt
good to take care of him a little, to reside for a moment in a story besides my
own. It made me feel true and alive, so gratified that he was kind enough to
share himself with me.
I told him I’m a ways away from sexytimes--he held me tight
and told me to take all the time I need. I said I’d try to make it quick so I
could get back to beating his ass before too long.
His second child is due this fall, so I know I can’t expect
much time with him, but I liked inviting him into this new world I’m building
and that he’s willing to share his world with me too. I think I’m still poly,
given how much I like sharing him with my friend, how much I liked cozying up
to a date with a wedding ring. The Mystery Family thing didn’t mean I’m not
poly, I just meant I prefer sanity, and so far this seems pretty sane.
On the couch, wrapped up in a blanket with my head on his
heart and his (newly beardy, yay!) chin on my head, as he told me his secrets,
I felt the thing I love to feel the most—simple human connection. Warmth. Life.
We’re getting to know each other in a way that makes my pants-on time seem like
even more of a blessing.
Though my heart is still heavy with worry about work, it was
lovely to go to sleep last night with an unequivocal smile, to have these gorgeous
living moments in my heart, to fall asleep and dream in pretty neighborhood
love songs.
