Chapter 45: We Girls Like 'Woo'

Over the next several weeks, "Tarzan" proceeded to take up so much of my time that I didn't even have the opportunity to see anyone else. I was okay with this. It was nice to get that daily phone call (or calls!) at work, nice to have a man asking to see me several times in a week, and most definitely on weekends. Other than the time he spent with his girls, he wanted to see me as much as possible. Sometimes we went out, sometimes we stayed in, it didn't matter. We were having a blast - both in deep "smit."

I was very respectful of the time he had with his girls, and made conscious efforts to stay away during those times. He had made several comments about me meeting the girls, and I would always recoil at the thought. Even though I knew we weren't seeing anyone else, we had not made any "official" exclusive commitment yet, and I didn't feel that adding the children into the equation was prudent just yet. He seemed to have no problem with the idea, and couldn't seem to wait for me to meet them, but I was still hesitating. Kids? How would I approach that? Kids can be even more judgmental than parents, and they don't always hold back, either. I convinced myself that I was doing the right thing by waiting to meet them, but, in truth, I was terrified of meeting them. They were these beautiful 6-year-old little girls, Daddy's girls, who had been through a bazaar divorce, and already had a new stepfather. "Tarzan" had told me several times that they kept asking him when he was going to get a girlfriend, so one might think that they were ready for that. But what if they weren't? What if my limited experience with children wasn't enough to win them over?

We'd been seeing each almost a month when "Tarzan" had to take an overnight trip to Augusta for work. And who should call me but the Swiss pilot? He tried to convince me to come over for "a glass of wine." And, let's just say that he wasn't nearly that charming about it. I could have... He may have been arrogant, but he WAS sexy. And "Tarzan" and I weren't exclusive. But I just didn't want to. The pilot kept asking, and I kept shrugging him off. In the end, I just never called him back.

Then it occurred to me: If I didn't want to hook up with the sexy Swiss pilot, maybe I was more committed to "Tarzan" than I was admitting to myself? When he came back into town, I told him just that. I told him that I had the opportunity to go out with someone else, and that I just didn't want to go, and how would he feel about "officially" making it exclusive. The broadest grin crossed his face and he said, "Are you kidding? I've been wanting to call you my 'girlfriend' for weeks!"

So it was official - it was the end of the summer, I'd been divorced for just over six months, officially dating for about five of those months, and I had a "boyfriend." :)

Chapter 44: ...And With Flying Colors

The next morning, I had an email waiting for me before I even got to work. "Tarzan" thanked me for a fantastic date, told me I was a "phenomenal" kisser, and wanted to go out again as soon as I had time. He was chasing, and he was courting, and I liked it. This is how it was supposed to be. I had the perfect opportunity to do it right this time. Of course, the big question was, "Could I?"

We planned a date for Friday night, and then continued talking via Instant Messenger and phone for the rest of the week. Okay, the accent was still annoying, but it was getting easier and easier to get past it to see the person he was underneath. And the more I learned, the more I liked. He was intelligent, knew how to be serious, knew how to be funny, financially stable, and he had this way of getting slightly giddy when he talked about us together, almost in the same way he got giddy when he talked about his girls. It was just enough to tell me that these were subjects that made him happy, and that was a very comforting and flattering feeling.

We met at Pappa Deux for dinner that Friday night. It started out slow, like our previous date, but then we both started to loosen up a little, sharing a bit about our day and the like. Maybe he was trying to impress me, or maybe he just liked wine, but I was really surprised when he suggested that we order a bottle of wine with dinner. I'd had a glass or two of wine when I'd been out before, but I couldn't recall ever being asked to pick out an entire bottle before! And he wanted MY opinion as to which wine we should get.

Another surprise, "Tarzan" liked Merlot. Again I was reminded of the stereotype I had attached to him because of his accent. Most rednecks wouldn't consider Merlot with their dinner, now would they? I chose a bottle of Clos du Bois, a brand that I'd been wanting to try, and I was delighted that, not only was it as good as I'd hoped it would be, but he enjoyed it too! I would have felt like crap if he'd just spent $40 on a bottle of wine and then hated it.

A delicious dinner and a bottle of Clos du Bois Merlot later, and we ended up back at my house. Yeah, I was doing the mental debating again. Should I, or shouldn't I? With "Tarzan," things felt different. He really was smitten with me, and I was certainly getting there. He had made absolutely no moves or comments that insinuated that he was just after a one night stand, and it was hard for me to picture that he could be that type of man. Maybe I was deluding myself, maybe I wasn't. Either way, I took him upstairs, (will I never learn?) and it was wonderful! He seemed even more smitten with me after. There wasn't a shred of nervousness or regret floating around inside me. I felt completely comfortable. I didn't even ponder whether or not I would get the "day after" phone call from "Tarzan." When he left, I had every confidence that I would.

Chapter 43: Winks and Spontaneity

So as you can imagine, I was feeling a little despondent about this whole thing.  I was certainly losing my enthusiasm, and I had pretty much lost my faith in the idea that I would actually find someone again. I was at work when I received a new "wink" from "Tarzan". Hmmm... he looked familiar. I bet he'd winked at me before. He was a nice-looking guy - I wondered why I hadn't responded. I'd noticed his picture, too, in some of the searches I'd done on Match, but had never received or sent a message from or to him. The fact that his picture stood out to me counted for something. I didn't normally respond to "winks," but maybe I'd see what this guy had to say.

He was eager and excited to hear from me. Within minutes, we were messaging on Yahoo, and within the hour, we had agreed on meeting for dinner that night. I liked the way he conducted himself on Instant Messenger. He was polite and respectful, quiet and shy in his own way, but willing to speak his mind when properly motivated. I could tell just from the wide variety of words he used that "Tarzan" was indeed intelligent. He asked if we could talk on the phone before we met for dinner, and I gave him my office line.

Oh, boy...

What had I done? The voice on the other end belied the intelligence I had been reading in our Instant Message session. I was listening to the slowest, most dim-witted, back-woods, country bumpkin Southern accent I'd ever heard. I realized that I shouldn't pre-judge someone based on their accent, but the man I was speaking on the phone with didn't talk with the same ease and comfortability that he had typed with. How was I going to put up with that accent and the awkward silences all through dinner? However, I had already agreed to go, so I went.

It started out just as awkward as I had thought it would. But I had a few drinks and loosened up a bit, and we both started to relax. We shared some divorce war stories, and he told me about his twin 6-year-old daughters. I could see the pride in his eyes and hear it in his voice every time he mentioned their names.

When it was time to go, we both agreed that we wanted to show off our cars to each other. He, with is custom collector Mustang, and me, with my special order TransAm. We started at his, and ended at mine. Sitting in my car, we were just talking and laughing, when he leaned over and kissed me. It took me a bit by surprise, but he was strong and passionate. His hands tangled into my hair and his fists clenched, telling me in no uncertain terms that he wanted me. I liked it. The front seat of my TransAm wasn't exactly the most comfortable situation, but we didn't seem to notice. We kissed for what seemed like hours.

Finally, we grudgingly peeled ourselves apart and admitted we needed to go home. Never would I have expected this date to turn out so well! Never had I been on a date that started out so wrong and turned out so right! I drove home feeling elated, but not overly confident. He still had to pass the "day after phone call" test.