Mid-November 1998
This Is The Guy

Excerpts of an e-mail I wrote to Feef, after she'd asked me to supply her with 'details' of my new romance:

" ... OK.  Here are some "details," in no particular order.

  • We spent Saturday night sitting in bed, eating Chinese food, watching "City of Angels" and talking about music.

  • When I got out of the shower one morning, he was sitting on the edge of the bed serenading the neighbors (and me) with his guitar.

  • We took his kids to the park on Sunday, where sat on a picnic bench and ate oranges and bread, purchased earlier from a local farmer's market.

  • Later we all went to the library. I wandered around and oriented myself to "my" new library.

  • He rubbed my back for an hour. (The combination of flying and good sex always give me a backache.)

  • When he picked me up at the airport on Friday night  --  after my plane had been delayed in Portland for nearly two hours  --  he was standing there wearing two plastic leis. He unlooped one of them from around his neck and put it around mine, saying "Welcome to Hawaii."  He then allowed me to kiss him fervently and noisily, right there in the terminal, even though we both know that he is a tiny bit uncomfy with that sort of public airport display stuff.

  • He has taken to calling me "Darling." In the past twenty years, I have been "Sweetheart," "Babe," "Honey" and "Honey Again," but I have never been called "Darling."

  • He took me to the Post Office on Saturday and helped me mail my (overdue) child support  --  springing for the expensive Sunday Delivery option  --  and then he urged me for the rest of the weekend to phone TicTac and apologize to my ex for it being late.

  • He has the most beautiful translucent blue eyes I've ever seen on a man.

  • When we walk around Alameda, he holds my hand. He's very tall, and the angle is a little awkward at first  --  my teeny tiny hands all but DISAPPEAR in his  --  but we're gradually getting the hang of it.

  • He took me to see the hospital where he was born.

  • At one point, when "Double Shot of My Baby's Love" came on the car stereo, he CRANKED it and threw open the sun roof, shouting "It doesn't get any better than this!"

  • He is unfailingly courteous to waitresses, store clerks, toll booth attendants (even the really slow stoopid ones), girlfriends (past and present) ...

  • He owns every album every made. Or at least it seems like he does.

  • He drove me all around the island of Alameda, showing me cool old houses and explaining local history and helping me orient myself to the way the streets are layed out.

  • When I had a ridiculous nightmare about god-knows-whut the other night, and I woke up all whimpery and stoopid, he pulled me into his arms and calmed me down.

  • He forced me to drink GALLONS of cranberry juice all weekend. (I'm battling a recurring bladder infection at the moment.)

  • He's worried about me moving into the apartment and feeling like it's "his" place, instead of "our" place ... so he's rearranging his stuff and giving me plenty of room for MY stuff and he makes sure that we "DISCUSS" everything so there are no hidden agendas anywhere.

  • He has the biggest ...

  • ... HANDS I've ever seen on a man. (Reference the "my teeny tiny hands all but DISAPPEAR in his" comment earlier.)

  • He watches cartoons on Saturday mornings.

  • At odd hours of the day or night he'll suddenly blurt out "I love you, Terri."

  • Two weeks from today he and I will be waking up here in The Tree House together. Then we'll be packing my earthly possessions into a U-Haul truck and trundling them six hundred miles south, where we will start a lovely new life together. I am absolutely beside myselves with joy at the prospect.

This is the guy, Feef.





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