At the Crossroads of Old and New

I have said this before, and inevitably I will say it again: I am a woman of words.  On top of that, I have been told -- and I tend to take pride in -- my penmanship, which is a dying art form (in my opinion).  One of my greatest pleasures is to actually write out a meaningful card or letter long-hand, with carefully chosen words and usually a poignant quote or, depending on the recipient, Bible verse.

When it comes to romantic relationships, can you get any more "old school" than a handwritten letter?  Be it an actual love letter, or something less intimate, the fact that one person took the time to write out their thoughts on a piece of paper has meaning.

But it is 2012.  When you want or need to communicate with someone, we text, email, Facebook.  We might, but probably not, even use our cell phone as a - gasp! - phone.  The handwritten letter is becoming a thing of the past, a quaint thing our grandparents did because they didn't have their own phones or computers.

Here's where old met new for me.  As you know, I've been trying to set up some time with P this weekend.  Tomorrow is going to be a fantastically crisp and chilly fall day, the first of the season, and aside from my usual gym class in the morning, I have no plans.  (Shocking, I know!)  That combination has me itching to do one of my favorite things: cook up a storm.  This afternoon, list in hand, I went and purchased all that I needed for my minestrone soup, Italian cheese bread, and the ingredients for various other culinary delights.  P knows I want to cook for him.  Ergo, a fantastic opportunity!

However, the invite to dinner as I wanted to do it was too long for a text message.  The only email address I have for him is his work one and I know he doesn't really check it when he's out of the office.  So obviously writing him a letter was the best way to go!  I worked out a draft or two, and then grabbed a pen and scripted out the letter.

Then I took a picture of it with my phone and sent that to him as a text/picture message.

Yep, 1890 and 2012 collided in a crazy yet harmonious way.  The letter included an invite to dinner, an invite to spend more time together helping me cook or watching a movie or whatever if his schedule allowed, and an "out:" my understanding if his schedule wouldn't allow it or if he wasn't interested in free food.  Oh, and it included a not-so-subtle request for "sexy time," too, regardless of the outcome of schedules and dinner.

What can I say?  I've got some needs.  Last time we were together he offered to take care of them, but it was "that time."  It's no longer "that time" and I've been listening to waaaay too much romantically-themed music as of late.  It's created a perfect storm of horny hormones.

I haven't heard back from him yet.  Will I?  Who really knows.  I'm trying to continue to build up a thick skin to his sometimes odd choices as to when he does or does not reply to a text message.  Either way, tomorrow afternoon I will be (in the words of my friend Mark in SC) "setting the kitchen ablaze with fabulosity" as I make minestrone, Italian cheese bread, roast chicken, and turn the five bazillion bananas our lunch lady gave me into mini banana bread loaves.  He's welcome to join me, but it is up to him.  If nothing else, I have come to learn one important thing:

I don't need a man.  I just want a man.  There's a big difference between need and want.  My life was happy before him and will continue to be happy with or without him.  I certainly want him in my life, but I don't need him.