My Seventeen Year Old Self

O.K., the dirt. He is 44 years old and 6 feet, four inches tall. He is employed and can write. Not only can he write, but he is funny. He has caused me to spew my tea onto my keyboard several times. I picked him up on the on-line dating site. I caught him checking me out but he did not leave me a message. I left him a message asking why he didn't leave me a message. Cute, huh? Anyway, after emailing for weeks and weeks (he is very faithful about writing) and talking on the phone several times (he has a lovely, deep, toe curling voice) we are finally going to meet on Saturday. Then on Sunday we have a tentative date to go out to a local nightclub. That is if we don't run screaming at the sight of each other. Yes, I have seen his picture and he is cute. And yes, he has seen mine but there is nothing like getting the chance to give a person the once over in broad daylight.

Here's the thing. I feel as if I have been possessed by my seventeen year old self. That awkward, skinny, shy girl who never had a date. Stop to consider that I married the first man I ever dated. Yes, I was head over heels in love with him and loved him for many, many years. The doesn't change the fact that I have only kissed one man, made love to one man in my whole entire 46 year existence. Shit, I am practically a virgin.

I never dreamed that I would find myself giggling in the daytime for no other reason then he has popped into my mind. That I find myself daydreaming about holding hands. And kissing. Is kissing like riding a bicycle? I feel giddy and exuberant. Like a teenage girl with a crush. And I haven't even met the guy yet. But, as the old saying goes....nothing ventured, nothing gained. I'll keep you posted.