Lookin' Good

Hope you don't mind that I've been writing you so much the past few days, love… just one of those weeks where my head is spinning, all ablaze with all sorts of thoughts… you, work, the kids, all sorts of stuff…

But I thought I might cool things down just a tad tonight — not that the furnace isn't still burning, my love. But, you know… that's just, like, my resting state, man. But I thought tonight might be a nice night for a bit of storytime…

So, the other week, you unwittingly triggered an ancient memory, babe, with just a quick off-the-cuff remark as we parted ways. I know it was just a commentary on the whole Christmas-tree-on-the-top-of-my-car situation, and not an attempt to flirt, but…

Way, way back, maybe during the summer between 8th and 9th grade (so, during the Paleolithic — hey, gotta keep earning those old man badges!), my family went on a vacation. A few of the days we were there, my parents shunted my brother and me off to some teen program to keep us occupied while they did…

Well. Frankly, I don't even want to think about what they did. Probably something totally mundane and boring, but due to some VHS cassettes I stumbled on once upon a time, I know the apple doesn't fall all that far from the tree in all sorts of ways that I would never have even wanted to consider, but annnnnyhoooooo.

There were a couple of girls in the same boat, same ages as my brother and me. We talked to them a bit, not too much. But the one who was my age…

Starting sometime the first day, every single time I saw her, she would call out “Lookin' good, feellikemakinlove2u!” And other things besides, but that's the one that stuck with me.

And I had no idea what to do with that.

Anyways, all this is to say… 40-something me is no better at discerning when he's being flirted with than 14 years old me was.

So, this is me, for the umpteenth time, apologizing for taking such an awfully long time to figure it out. I mean. You eventually made it obvious enough, even for Mister Slow-on-the-Uptake, with those chest whacks and all.

But also, I'm pretty sure this goes a long way toward explaining why I'm maybe not all that good at it myself. Oh, if you haven't detected me flirting with you, babe, it's not for lack of trying, lol. Sorry to disappoint you.

But, hey. Flirty or not, I'm pretty sure you caught my drift with the bookshelf for “our” living room. And if your Yoda doing the force lift was intended to be suggestive, well, then so was my Pillars of Creation.

Anyways, babe… whether or not I'm good at either flirting or being flirted with, one thing is absolutely certain: I love every interaction I ever have with you. I could get used to talking to you every single day. I mean, after all… all I've really even wanted for a few years now is you, in my life. And I still can't quite believe my luck that I'm actually getting that now.

Gods, I love you. So very much.

Talk soon!

Yours.