"We're here." Wait... what?
As Robert Burns said, translated into modern English, "even the best laid plans go awry." Today was supposed to be work (church), meet up with the out-of-town friends for baseball game, grab some KC BBQ for dinner, relax in the evening. All it took was one text message to change up things.
Now admittedly the schedule stayed pretty much as outlined. Part of it just ended up including two more people. Three guesses as to who, and the first two don't count.
If you guessed P and his son, give yourself 5 bonus points.
Once arriving at the game and discovering our second round of fantastic seat luck -- this time the upper balcony, but in the front row pretty much directly behind home plate, and all for $5.25 -- we did some of the obligatory picture taking and posting on Facebook and sending to friends. P asked about the game; remember, he's not into baseball. A bit later when I texted an update, he replied, "We're here."
Wait, what? Here? Where? And... we?
Yep. In the 6th inning or so, P and his son arrived at the game. Officially it was because on Sunday afternoons after the games, they allow folks to come down and run the bases, and he wanted his son to experience that (which, ostensibly, is why he still had his son even though he was supposed to be with his mom as of noon). How convenient it was on a Sunday when I was also there. He texted me his seat location and the information that there were plenty of empty seats around them -- he'd purchased seats similar to ours yet at the gate was handed tickets by a random guy, seats that happened to be about 10 rows off the field, on the 3rd base line, and near home plate. I moved down, and a half inning or so later, my friends came down and joined us.
The rest of the afternoon was as would be expected, no further shocking events or revelations. But the fact that he was there was... surprising. Pleasantly surprising, but also just beyond what I would have ever expected. His son started relaxing around us; he and my friend's kid actually started chatting and seemingly hit it off as we were waiting for our turn to go around the bases. I got my first thorough lesson in Star Trek via some of the 6 gazillion pictures on his phone. (I have a long way to go. A very long way. At least I can hold my own in Star Wars.)
The only awkward moment came as we were saying our goodbyes at the ballpark. He started in for a kiss. Now, that is one bridge we haven't crossed yet. It's been a matter of timing, mostly, but I'm also admittedly a romantic and sentimental and you only get one first of anything. One first date, one first touch, one first impression... and one first kiss. When I've been up since 5:30 (on about 6 hours, maybe, of sleep), been sitting in the hot sun for the past 3 hours, feel gross, sticky, and sweaty, have slightly stale beer mouth, and his 10 year old son is right there... that is just not the time for the first kiss!! Instead I went for the "we are more than friends" hug.
This, of course, prompted another slightly insecure "I'll talk to you later?" from him. Yes, of course babe, you'll hear from me later. Guys get insecure too. While I'm one who is reeling being in this very unknown position of having guys wondering about their chances with me, I have to remember the risks that he is also taking and that he is human and has his own doubts. As soon as I could after that, I texted him.
"It was a really nice surprise to see you today."
That got an immediate smile reply.
Things seem to be just fine. In odd limbo -- you know, that "dating?" "seeing each other?" "what the heck do we really call this budding whatever?" limbo -- but a just fine limbo. (Well, ok, it's an odd limbo for me because I like titles and neat little boxes. I also have a ton of well-meaning friends who are dying to refer to him as my "boyfriend.") No need to rush this. Besides, it's my week to be crazy busy. 'Tis the story of two middle-aged adults dating in 2012.
Now admittedly the schedule stayed pretty much as outlined. Part of it just ended up including two more people. Three guesses as to who, and the first two don't count.
If you guessed P and his son, give yourself 5 bonus points.
Once arriving at the game and discovering our second round of fantastic seat luck -- this time the upper balcony, but in the front row pretty much directly behind home plate, and all for $5.25 -- we did some of the obligatory picture taking and posting on Facebook and sending to friends. P asked about the game; remember, he's not into baseball. A bit later when I texted an update, he replied, "We're here."
Wait, what? Here? Where? And... we?
Yep. In the 6th inning or so, P and his son arrived at the game. Officially it was because on Sunday afternoons after the games, they allow folks to come down and run the bases, and he wanted his son to experience that (which, ostensibly, is why he still had his son even though he was supposed to be with his mom as of noon). How convenient it was on a Sunday when I was also there. He texted me his seat location and the information that there were plenty of empty seats around them -- he'd purchased seats similar to ours yet at the gate was handed tickets by a random guy, seats that happened to be about 10 rows off the field, on the 3rd base line, and near home plate. I moved down, and a half inning or so later, my friends came down and joined us.
The rest of the afternoon was as would be expected, no further shocking events or revelations. But the fact that he was there was... surprising. Pleasantly surprising, but also just beyond what I would have ever expected. His son started relaxing around us; he and my friend's kid actually started chatting and seemingly hit it off as we were waiting for our turn to go around the bases. I got my first thorough lesson in Star Trek via some of the 6 gazillion pictures on his phone. (I have a long way to go. A very long way. At least I can hold my own in Star Wars.)
The only awkward moment came as we were saying our goodbyes at the ballpark. He started in for a kiss. Now, that is one bridge we haven't crossed yet. It's been a matter of timing, mostly, but I'm also admittedly a romantic and sentimental and you only get one first of anything. One first date, one first touch, one first impression... and one first kiss. When I've been up since 5:30 (on about 6 hours, maybe, of sleep), been sitting in the hot sun for the past 3 hours, feel gross, sticky, and sweaty, have slightly stale beer mouth, and his 10 year old son is right there... that is just not the time for the first kiss!! Instead I went for the "we are more than friends" hug.
This, of course, prompted another slightly insecure "I'll talk to you later?" from him. Yes, of course babe, you'll hear from me later. Guys get insecure too. While I'm one who is reeling being in this very unknown position of having guys wondering about their chances with me, I have to remember the risks that he is also taking and that he is human and has his own doubts. As soon as I could after that, I texted him.
"It was a really nice surprise to see you today."
That got an immediate smile reply.
Things seem to be just fine. In odd limbo -- you know, that "dating?" "seeing each other?" "what the heck do we really call this budding whatever?" limbo -- but a just fine limbo. (Well, ok, it's an odd limbo for me because I like titles and neat little boxes. I also have a ton of well-meaning friends who are dying to refer to him as my "boyfriend.") No need to rush this. Besides, it's my week to be crazy busy. 'Tis the story of two middle-aged adults dating in 2012.
Comments
Post a Comment
We are all adults here. Comments are welcome, but they are also moderated because there has been a marked increase in spam, trolling, and generally snarky and nasty comments being submitted. Different opinions are welcome when expressed maturely; rude comments and links will not be published.