There I am, all smitten kitten about The Owl. Driving back home to take Gizmo to therapy/work, I couldn’t stop smiling. I tried. It didn’t work. I wanted to go right back and stay in bed all day.
Two days later, on actual Cinco de Mayo, I found myself driving back to The Owl’s house. He kissed me when he opened the door. It had been a while since I had someone do that. Not since The Mayor had someone seemed that genuinely happy to see me when I walked through the door.
We headed out to Tijuana Flats to get some tacos and then went to the brewery. Again, I wish I could tell you what we talked about for three hours, but somehow we filled the time. Everything was fuzzy and fluid and warm. I don’t know what else there is to say about it. We were sitting at a bar, sampling beers from all over south Florida that I had never tried before, listening to music, and talking. We got onto the topic of my birthday.
Six months prior to all of this, I had made plans (and bought plane tickets) to got to Vegas to celebrate my 30th birthday. I knew I was staying with McNugget. I knew Deubs was coming. That was all I had planned… except I also planned to get married.
I started telling him about why I don’t usually celebrate my birthday (because I always feel let down) and how I’m really excited for this one because all that matters is that I have a place to stay (check,) at least one friend with me (check,) and that I really want to get married, mostly as a joke, at the KISS mini golf. The Owl said to me that he might be able to go if I wanted him to do so. At first it seemed kind of like “woah… pump the breaks there buddy,” but then I decided whatever…if he wants to come and party, come and party! I wasn’t holding my breath, but it was kind of nice that he wanted to celebrate my 30th with me.
We finished out our night, I went back home and we scheduled to see each other a few days later. That night he came over and I made him dinner. I decided to show off and make bacon wrapped scallops, roasted broccoli and mashed acorn squash. It was delicious. He brought beer. We watched a movie. We made out…heavily. So heavily that my sex alarm was going off. I wasn’t ready for this. It was date three or four, sure…and I had just made him an incredible dinner, but I wasn’t ready. I have no idea what was holding me back, but something was.
Then while we were making out, he dropped a bomb. At the time it wasn’t a big bomb, but it was a bomb none the less. The kind of bomb that gets acknowledged, and moved on from…until he texted me the next day to further clarify how big this bomb actually was.
And that is where we’ll leave the story for today. So what was the bomb? How big was it? How easily would it be navigated? And would it ultimately be the bomb that blew up our potential relationship?