9:29 a.m. - Tuesday, Aug. 31, 2010
A problem
He thinks I'm crazy.
He smiles and laughs and shakes his head. Then he gets this twinkle in his eye, and grabs me up in a hug.
He hugs me.
He holds my hand.
He sits on the porch swing with me and puts his arm around me, and we just sit in the quiet, watching the stars.
He laughs at my stupid jokes.
He makes me feel pretty without saying a word.
He enjoys my goofy moods.
He asks for nothing more than a little understanding.
He pops in to my work to say hi and ends up helping me with the lifting and the carrying.
He does not like the feeling of grass between his toes. Which sends me into fits of giggles as I call him a "pansy city boy".
He teases my sister about her high level of self-consciousness and tells her to shut-up, she's beautiful.
He respects my mother.
He admires my father.
He is a father.
He talks. Alot. But not too much.
He let's me be exactly who I am without judgement or criticism.
...but he doesn't want to get married again. He knows I do. And he doesn't want to hurt me. So, let's just be friends.
Dammit.
