Anyone who knows me will agree on one thing. Well, probably a couple of things… my love of stamps being a little odd, one of them, but for sure one of my more negative characteristics is fairly obvious to most.
I am most impatient.
I hate waiting for things, anything. Oddly enough this seems like an illogical characteristic when coupled with one of my other negative characteristics… the penchant for being late for things, anything. I am trying so hard to not do this and in all fairness to me, I truly do try and leave early so that I will get somewhere at the appropriate time, say… work, but I swear to the good goddess above, whenever I leave early, something always happens to make me later than if I had only left at my originally planned time. The something that usually happens is usually the subway, or back when living on Slumington, the bus… or the fact that my parents seem to know exactly when I am running late for something and choose that particular moment to call. At any rate, I can’t actually think of one person who has not been at the receiving end of this particular attribute… and I really am very sorry. Of course it goes without saying that I hate it when I have the wait around for people, even 5 minutes… hence the dichotomy of my personality and people are just generally confused and annoyed because of it.
Oh, and I do apologize that you’ll be hearing about the same topic until who knows when. I figured it would be a nice change to hear about my love life as opposed to incessant ramblings about soccer, which in its absence (TFC excluded) has now been replaced with rugby, which I am slowly becoming entirely engrossed in… I love it. I can’t get enough. Continue to be miffed that I wasted the goodly portion of my younger years trying to like hockey because there was nothing else… I digress.
At any rate, Bea is in new territory here. Very new territory. That means that Bea is confused as she is apt to be when something new and unknown occurs. And of course Bea confused means that Bea will continue to work it out until she is no longer so. Except as this has to do with the testosteroned gender, the chances that she will never not be confused are slim to none. With more weight on the latter.
So my conundrum is thus. The Scotsman is into me. I think. I’m pretty sure. Mostly. At least by the way he talks it very much seems that way. He is very open and honest. Talks about his feelings like no one I have ever encountered. He also pays attention to everything that I say. And I mean literally everything. It freaks me out. We discussed this last night and in doing so I came to the conclusion that ever single guy I have ever talked to in Toronto has not given two sh*ts about anything I had to say. Ever. It took this man to make me realize this… and sadly, he is fully aware of this …
He’s the guy who puts faith in men back into women. Apparently. Women who then go on to marry the next guy they come across. Why? Because he teaches them that there are non-game playing and genuine men out there who truly care about women and see them more than just receptacles for the penis. And these women go on to hold out for that kind of guy. And to be honest, I have been wondering for some time whether they did exist or whether it was just some stupid urban myth that some sick and twisted individual cooked up to mess with our minds. At any rate, supposedly they do exist and I rather think I may have found one.
Now here’s the problem. He is an excruciatingly patient fella. Very patient. And despite being 40, is in no hurry to rush into anything. And by “anything”, of course I am referring to a sexual relationship. Because having a casual sexual relationship just ain’t his thang. Well imagine my surprise… Because my past history would have seemed to dictate that a casual sexual relationship was all that any man was interested in. Who knew such a man existed that did not want to jump into my giant king size bed on the first date? Well I surely did not. The problem? In a nutshell? Well, the old girl is still suffering from a bout of ye olde spring fever. And while I get that the best way of dealing with this fella is to not rip his clothes off when I see him again… Let’s just say I am not sure just how LONG I can wait for him. And this, my friends, is my dilemma. I shall attempt to deal with it as best I can …
This guy is going to be a challenge for me. And not a “let’s see how quickly I can get him into the sack” challenge. A challenge in a very different way. An emotionally-challenging challenge... sorry to sound redundant. A challenge in patience. An adult-like challenge I dare say. So, used to going out with guys who seemed only too keen on going ‘there’ very soon, and then of course not being interesting in any way shape or form after, it’s going to be difficult to break that bad habit that up until now I had been a willing participant in. To get used to a man who might be interested in me but who does not want to go down that path, like yesterday. To undo the emotional damage that I have experienced, although did not know it at the time and am still working on finding out how deep it runs, at the hands of guys who I thought cared about me but really didn’t. It sounds so pathetic. I sound so pathetic. But it is the truth. Sex is not an emotion. Nor does having it equate having emotions or feelings towards someone. In the past it hasn’t bothered me so much. But now, faced with, in the words of Monty Python, something completely different, kind of puts a different perspective on things. I am ready for my faith to be restored.
And I both fear and hope that he is right… I HOPE that having met him, whatever happens in the future I know now that men like him exist. But I FEAR that I will become another statistic for him… That he will undo all the bad habits and bad taste deeply rooted by my misadventures in dating land…years and years of meeting guys wholly inappropriate for me… only for me to go on and meet the man of my dreams and leave him, once again… the returner of faith in men.