The Great Lemon Incident of 2013

This is my first post of 2014.  And it's May.  24 posts in 2012 and 3 in 2013.  My mid-year resolution is that I'd like to start writing more frequently.  Of course there's always the question "what to write about?"... I know I don't have many followers and that's okay - I write for myself.  Hell, even if one person tells me "I really enjoyed your blog" then it's even more worth it.

I guess I'll pick up where I left off back in December... I'd made a very important discovery.  I discovered that I wasn't, in fact, broken like I thought I'd been for a long time.  I'd been alone, by choice, for years.  I'd had one serious relationship with a man who didn't feel the same about me as I did for him in the end.  I'd been living my life, spending time with my family, my friends, my dog, looking for the right band.... dating on and off and every time wondering "why do this?".  The dating part, that is.  If you've read my blog, you know the guys rarely got past Date Number One.  If they did, they sure as hell didn't get past Date Number Two.   There were always a plethora of things that bugged the hell out of me and immediately put them into the "not gonna happen" pile.  Or maybe there was just never a connection of any kind.  If they made it to Date Number Two I'd start asking myself all the same questions - what's the point of dating?  To eventually become "boyfriend and girlfriend"?  And what's the point of THAT?  Why do this?  And that was the end of that guy.  Into the pile he went.

And then I met him.  That guy.  That guy that when I saw him for the first time did absolutely nothing for me.  I didn't even think he was handsome, really.  I mean.... he wasn't ugly.... but I sure as hell wasn't weak in the knees.  He was just a guy.  And he was nice enough.  Funny.  Kind of crazy, like me.  And after the third time we saw each other through mutual friends, I asked him to go out but even then, it was just on a platonic "date".  He was recently separated and I thought a night out might be good for him - time away from his troubles and thinking and all that crap because, hey, I had been there and I knew what he was going through. Plus, I could use some company at the event I had to attend.  I simply thought we would have a fun night together - and that was IT.

And then the online conversations started.  I think it took one.  Maybe two.  They were long conversations, mind you.  Over an hour each.  He started revealing himself to me.  What was inside.  And what was inside was so much more than I could see on the outside.  And so different, to boot.  By the second conversation he hooked me.  I was interested.  Dammit.  But I couldn't help it.

And then the emails started.  The playing and the flirting.  At first I was the usual naive idiot and couldn't tell if it was the norm for him or if he actually was flirting.  Until it was so glaringly obvious.  And I flirted back.  It was fun.  I was giddy.  I hadn't felt that way in a long time.  We even talked about the fact that we were flirting and that we probably shouldn't because of our mutual friends.  But it was so much fun and what was it hurting? Right?  Pft.

And then platonic date night came around.  I told myself if he showed any interest in me - any at all - that I was going to kiss him.  I also said, aloud, so I would actually hear the words "this a probably a bad idea and it probably won't end well and someone will probably get hurt and it will most likely be me" but in the back of my  mind I thought - it doesn't HAVE to end badly and it doesn't HAVE to be me who gets hurt.... I mean, I've been known to break a few hearts here and there.  Plus, underneath the cynical, sarcastic, pessimistic exterior lies the optimistic, romantic-at-heart, always-hoping-for-her-happy-ending Shannon.  And there was just no denying the connection we had with each other.  It was like talking to someone I'd known my entire life.  That comfort level and easiness... it happened right from the beginning with him....and it was impossible to ignore.  So on we went.... and he looked good.  Damn good.  And he held his own and did everything right.  And we eventually found ourselves alone at the bar....and after a night of flirting and smiling and brushing hands and arms....I stuck a lemon in his mouth, did my lemon drop shot and sucked that baby out.  And if fireworks didn't go off somewhere at that very moment, then I don't know what happened because they sure went off in that bar when we kissed.  Talk about a connection. 

Fast forward a couple months.  I don't even know what to say.... we'd talked so much, about so much.... I felt like he completely let me in and I knew so much about him in such a short time and vice versa.  Boy did he have no problem at all breaking down that wall that I keep myself safely behind.  None.  And I happily let him through it.  I exposed myself -warm underbelly and all.  Yup.... I could see it happening with him.  I could've fallen in love with him if we kept going.  Did I mention the kissing?  Holy crap.  That boy could kiss.  I can kiss.  Put us together and again - fucking fireworks.  I guess the thing about him was that everything was so different.... and that's what people just don't get.  I don't fall for guys... I don't do a lot of the things I did with him.... I never liked things I liked with him.... shit - I was HAPPY by myself.  Without a man.  Without sex.  Without companionship and talking.  Without love.  We couldn't keep our hands off each other when we were alone.  Shit - I even let him cuddle with me at night when we went to sleep.  I'd hold him.... his head on my chest.... my arms wrapped around him, and I'd rub his head as he'd drift off to sleep.  I know it's usually the opposite way around - the guy holds the girl.... but I loved it.  I knew he was comfortable and relaxed - it was something I could give him.  A little peace in his crazy life.  And let me tell you - how in the HELL I'd fall asleep with that snoring is BEYOND me.  But it didn't bother me.  Nothing bothered me about him.  And THAT was the rarity.

Until I realized it wasn't over with his wife.

That bothered me.  And the day she hacked into his email was the day I realized I couldn't do it anymore and I had to end it.  At least I had enough wits about me to do that.  That was the day I started asking the hard questions.  And that's the day shit got real.  It wasn't over.  Maybe he thought it was - right at first - or maybe I want to believe that's what he thought.  And that's okay.  I'll believe that.  Because there are days I believe none of it was real on his end and that doesn't really do anything for me, does it?  Nope.  Some days I think it was all just an ego boost for him and wonder how many others there were besides me.  Some days I believe it was more real than anything I've ever experienced and other days I just think it was some crazy-ass connection we had that happens so rarely and because of that I confused it with real feelings.  I don't know.  It's like a bad roller-coaster than doesn't end and you can't get off.  More often than not I think it was just a blip on the map - barely even showing up on his radar - just someone he met when he left his wife who could make him feel alive and special and good.  Yeah... sometimes I feel like the complete jackass but since speculation gets you nowhere.... the one thing I AM sure of is that we did have a connection - an  undeniable connection.  Should he have brought me into his fucked up world when things weren't over with his marriage?  It just doesn't matter.  It happened.  It's done.  I've met someone else recently.  And you know what?  What "that guy" did for me was show me exactly why people do this.  He helped answer those questions I always asked myself after the first date or two.  He showed me something very, very important - something for which I am extremely grateful.... he showed me that I am not broken.  Not at all.  I am capable of loving again.  I'm not just a hard, tough, in-your-face, kind of girl.  Sure - I'm that, too.... but that's because that's the kind of girl I've needed to be all these years.... but there's so much more underneath that rough exterior.  And if this person I've recently met wants to dig a little and find that out, I just might let him.  I happen to think he's pretty damn special so far.  And if it wasn't for "that guy" I met and let break down my walls... I might never have known that.  So yeah... shit happens for a reason.  I stand behind that old, annoying saying because it's so very true.  

No regrets.  Ever.  Or I wouldn't be who or where I am today.  And I like me. And I like where I am.  And hey - I'm not broken.