Sunday, November 10, 2013

Kindness

For the last week and a half I've had a little problem with a man I met recently. It's one I've never faced before.

Kindness.

We met on Halloween and connected immediately. We were both in costume - him with white and bloody zombie makeup covering his face. We danced and talked and danced some more. I felt good around him. Happy.

We talked about seeing each other again and I said yes even though his face was still a mystery. He had a kind soul - and I didn't even need eyes to know that. 

Since then we've been out three times. Each time we had conversations - ones where we both talk and listen. Two hours will pass over a meal and we won't have had a quiet moment. He's considerate and respectful of me and of others. He opens my car door and rinses off dinner dishes. And he has a strong but gentle touch. 

Most of all I can depend on him. When he says he'll call he does. If he's running late he lets me know. So many people don't, and never care about who's feelings they hurt.

One of the most telling signs of his kindness is his relationships. Friends and family are important. He has friends from his childhood and from recent years, and he sees them often. He enjoys being social and meeting new people. When he went to a friend's birthday party with me he met and talked with everyone there. He's also close to his brothers and parents.

These sound like the simplest things, but people so rarely do them. My ex and other men I've dated cared mainly about themselves - how they could impress people and what they could get from the relationship rather then what they could give. As a result, I don't know how to handle kindness. Its hard to know what to say or do.

What happens when you put two givers together? I'm not talking about doormat givers but rather strong people who often put others' needs first - especially if they're in real need. 

The other day he told me how much he likes me. I told him I like him too, but the next words fell out of my mouth by themselves.

"I hope I don't disappoint you." I immediately wanted to take them back. Disappointing him is the last thing I want to do, but I don't want to seem weak or needy.

His kind response surprised me again. "You haven't been told often enough how beautiful you are." 

From what I've seen so far, he's the one who's beautiful - inside and out.

Love to the single girls,
Addison

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

I was kissed by a vampire on Halloween

At least that's what I'm told. Halloween night doubled with a friend's birthday party. We had yummy Tex-Mex before the real birthday/ Halloween party at the pub around the corner.

I confess, I had a beer and two margaritas with dinner. I only planned for one margarita but a guy at the bar sent a round over. The margaritas were really strong, and it doesn't take much for me, but I swear on the tallest pile of Halloween candy I can reach I absolutely do not remember the vampire kiss.

Someone told me at my other friend's birthday party the next night that she heard I was making out with the vampire. Then two people said they saw me. I don't not believe them, and I remember the vampire well.  He was nice looking but the eyeliner, hair and costume ensemble looked like he stepped out of Duran Duran in the mid 1980s. And he was way too friendly for my taste.

And I remember everything else well too. I remember having one drink - a vodka cranberry - because the bartender said they didn't have pumpkin-flavored anything. I remember all of the birthday girls' friends I had never met before (the vampire was one of them), their costumes and all of the photo taking. I also remember the fun band and meeting one of the band members - an amazing guy I'll write more about soon.

So if the vampire did kiss me and I don't remember, it had to be one of these that happened:

1) His kiss was so forgettable I blocked it out.
2) It didn't really happen.
3) I was too distracted by the guy in the band 
4) The vampire cast some sort of spell to make me forget

Whatever happened, I'm glad it was only once, and it won't happen again.

Love to the single girls,
Addison