The summer season is not my favourite. The days especially suck. The sun has it in for me so I smell like SPF 8500 most of the time and the post baby bulge (yep, that’s what I’m calling it) makes me want to put deodorant in various embarrassing places.
Summer evenings are another thing altogether. Here’s why. Sweat doesn’t look as gross at dusk as it does at high noon. You can justify cold drinks (beer) after the sun has started to set. AND the trickle of water running down my leg from the melting ice cube tampon is not as noticeable.
And I started dating Alec right around this time. He’d answered my personal ad the previous fall which went something like this;
Single White Female. Looking for man with all of his own teeth, a strong back, and who is not into auto-erotic asphyxiation. That was it. It was more my swan song on internet dating (as I had been burned) and giving the proverbial finger to all those who “liked long romantic walks”.
Various unstable stalkers men answered the ad. Some too scary to even read aloud let alone contact – one actually told me to never reproduce! Alec’s reply was the only one I responded to. Why? Two fold – I liked his name and he was a musician. I should probably let you in on a tid-bit about my past. I previously had things for 2 types of guys…musicians, namely drummers, and sons of pastors. Yeah, we could fill a psych paper on that but that’s another post. Turned out Alec was the kind of musician who had a job – as in, a job in his field. He wasn’t a waiter (not that there’s anything wrong with that) but an actual bonafide award winning musician. Cue hero music here.
Anyway, we met the fall of 2000. Neither of us (me) were really ready to start dating, so I did what I always did with men who liked me. I totally blew him off. Fast forward several months, during which Alec keeps calling me to get back the Matt Good CD he loaned me. I agree to take him his CD & we end up talking – for a long time. I leave his downtown studio, convinced we’ll never be more than friends. Fast forward another month or so, during which I spend a bunch of time with him and his friends and I start to fall for him. I decide it would be super cute if I told him so in a card and since it’s his birthday – it wouldn’t be that weird to be giving him a card! Fuck off genius plan! We go out for dinner & I give him the card, which he tucks under the napkin, thinking it just a birthday card, and we continue visiting. And then he tells me he’s started seeing someone. Fuuuuuuuck. Any chance of getting that card back? Nope…okay, the pathetic loser will be having the brownie suicide dessert.
So now that he was unavailable, I totally and completely wanted him. Thank goodness I had such a bitchy level headed roommate who told me “uh, you had him & didn’t want him – you’re too late”, which was true. I lamented for a couple of days and then realized, hello, I can totally compete. I pulled off up my panties and here we are 8 years later. With the two most fabulous kids & a great life.
The courtship of Emmy & Jude’s father. I remember the smell of the air when he opened the envelope of that card. The smell of the back of his neck. And the smell of competition with that other girl. And it was all fucking awesome.
Happy eight years baby.