As impulsive as I am, I rarely jump into anything without plotting and planning. Instead, I use trial and error. That’s why I subleased an apartment in Los Angeles for a month this summer. Picking up my bags and moving cross-country spontaneously was not an option. I was being an adult. Responsible. Practical.
These are adjectives that I can use to describe myself regarding my professional life and hardcore long-term goals. When it comes to my romantic relationships, however, it’s a different story. I don’t know what it is with matters of the heart. I have no impulse control. No logic and very little common sense. It’s like I see pene and dive in, swimming with the fishes while blindfolded. It’s no wonder I’ve been eaten alive so many times. Limbs chopped off and dangling because I moved way too fast with a man that I did not know.
With Paco, however, it has been different. I am different. For the first time in 34 years, I am taking it slow. I am going with the flow.
It wasn’t always easy. I remember how unsure I was when we first saw each other after our month long phone courtship. I was living temporarily in Los Angeles and Paco came to visit me from Las Vegas. When he called to tell me he was minutes away from my doorstep, my nerves were out of whack. I had daydreamed about that very moment for days. I would rush in, jump on him, grab his face with both hands and plant a big juicy French kiss on his lips. I even had my outfit picked out.
What actually happened when something like this.
I walked toward his parked car, steps away from my subleased apartment. My heart raced, as it should, and as I neared his car he had opened his trunk. He took out his duffel bag and grabbed it with one hand. In his other hand, he carried a giant colorful gift bag. Inches away now and I wondered how to jump on him. His hands were occupied! If I jumped on him he could topple over! Now what?!
“Hey!” I managed to say.
Paco smiled and came in closer. I gave him half a hug and a kiss on the cheek. So lame, I thought. He then handed me the large gift bag and told me it was a housewarming gift. I smiled. No man had ever bought me a gift just because. Not so lame, I thought.
Inside my apartment it was much of the same. I was nervous. I didn’t really know how to handle the situation or how to behave. Paco wasn’t my boyfriend but he wasn’t just a friend. His gifts said he liked me. He’d given me a card that read, “I like you and fries.” There were three other cards that he’d purchased for me on his trip to Seattle. One represented my astrological sign of Aries, the other was a poem about being an alive woman, and the third was a poem. But his lack of affection told me otherwise.
So, the entire day I teetered between both roles. We went out to eat and I reprimanded him when he checked out another girl in front of me. We went to Santa Monica Pier and walked on the beach but didn’t holding hands. By the end of the night I was confused. Did he want me? Was he attracted to me? Did he want to kiss me?
Night end an it was time to go to bed. I decided to use my impulsive and spontaneous nature. Sort of. You see, as much as I dive in I am also very shy when I like a man. I fear rejection. I want to be sure that the man I desire desires me just as much. But I couldn’t read Paco. As we lay in bed, my brain ticked, ticked, ticked. I wanted him to make a move. I wanted him to know it was okay. Only one way to find out.
“Do you want to cuddle?” Yes, I actually asked if he wanted to cuddle. So lame, I thought. But it worked. Paco moved in.
“Do you want to kiss me?” I was feeling bolder. My patience now nonexistent.
“I was going to get to that,” he said with a chuckle.
And he moved in. The rest as they say is history. Or for me to know and for you to find out. Just know that I am flowing. We are flowing. All limbs intact.