Things are moving right along with me and D. So smoothly, in fact, that it feels weird.
NOTE: This is where all of you out there that have had successful relationships chime in.
Because I’ve never had this. I’ve never dated someone who misses me after just a few hours of being apart. I’ve never spent so much time with someone where I recognize their smell, or their breathing when they sleep. I’ve never fallen into a routine with someone.
I’ve heard about it, from other couples, but never experienced it.
In the last few weeks, there’s been one night we didn’t stay together, and even then, D was whining. While Marcy tells me that would get on her nerves, I enjoy it. I’ve never had anything quite like this, and I don’t feel like I have to put on an act around D, so why not spend the few free hours we have together?
The nights he has off from work, which are also the nights he has his daughter, we spend at his house. The nights he has to work late, he spends at mine—its 3 nights at one place, 4 at the other, so it’s as equal as it can be.
After he met Marcy and Craig, he asked me when I wanted to meet his parents. I was shocked. I’ve never had someone want me to meet their parents. He assured me, they were going to love me.
Before I meet his daughter, he has an agreement with his ex wife that she will meet me, too. He really wants me to meet his daughter, so don’t be surprised if you see a post on here of me freaking out before I meet his ex wife, then his daughter, and eventually, his family.
We’ve talked about meeting my family, which is awkward. Because my family has issues. So there’s that. I told him I see my family once a year (if I’m lucky..heh), so he was more than welcome to come with me in November when I do so.
“We’ll be engaged by then,” he said.
Because yes, he’s told me he is convinced I am his wife.
D came home (see I’m even doing it without realizing it) from work Saturday night and told me the guys at work voted him, “The guy with the best girlfriend.” I laughed, “I believe it, but why?”
He had showed him a picture of the breakfast I cooked us that morning: (my version of “Green Eggs & Ham”)—toasted English muffins, topped with prosciutto, a fried egg, spoonful of pesto, and freshly cracked pepper. I served it with a tamer version of Irish coffee: hazelnut coffee with a shot of Bailey’s, topped with homemade vanilla whipped cream and a sprinkle of ground cinnamon. I served it on a tray, in bed, with a vase of flowers.
Because I really am that awesome.