In the span of two weeks we had met an awkward evening following the big lie. We both knew we needed to have an honest conversation so we did over a glass of wine at a nice little bar down the street from my place.
Admittedly, it was one of the most serious and honest conversations I've had with a man - it eclipsed all those 'Talks' in past relationships.
The movies - He explained he knew I would be recluse after what had transpired so he tried to reach out; the intent was to show me he is still very interested. I - having put up the thickest brick wall - judged him as being a bit of a show off and self involved. What I saw as his need to search for acknowledgement really was indeed just that - he was just trying to prove his sincere interest, but I saw it as a negative thing since I was still sitting behind my wall.
The lie - we didn't talk about that. We had chatted enough about it. Instead he told me more about his son and his struggle with his son's mother.
In all honesty, for us to really get to know each other, The Mexican and I both had to acknowledge our own mistakes and move past them and each others. Sealing myself up wasn't the answer. Opening up yourself makes you vulnerable - that's the part I don't like.Which explains why I've been single for a while.
What really hit me though was how much of my BS this guy was willing to put up with to get it through my thick skull. He is definitely worth a second try.
So when the flu officially hit me Tuesday night and he offered again to come over Wednesday night, I said ok. He hadn't been to my place yet. It was tidy, but I looked like a mess.
The Mexican actually brought home made soup. And Bolthouse Farms carrot juice. He didn't say much. And that's what ultimately makes me wonder so much about him. In any event, he was there, heating up soup on the stove. He served it to me. He did my dishes.
I had a terrible migraine and the back rub he gave me really helped. And we just laid there in each other's arms. It was really nice.
Wtf was I so scared of?
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