On Saturday, I took the little sister (not my actual sister) to the movies. I came home, didn't nap, blogged and went to meet Damian and friends for his birthday. After I had my second drink, I lost the power of speech and had to go home around 11:15pm. I slept well and on Sunday morning, I played softball.
I'd been thinking about Tim, of course. He'd gone camping with a (female) friend on Saturday and was getting back on Sunday. He said he'd call me when he got home and I figured I'd hear from him in the evening. I wasn't too thrilled about his camping trip, but I knew it wasn't a big deal either. (Last night he said, "I should have gone camping with you." I said, "Yes, you should have. But we don't really know each other well enough to have gone camping this weekend. We have to wait--until next weekend.")
I was in the car, heading towards the grocery store around noon, and Tim called. It's too bad he couldn't see the huge grin on my face. He asked me when we were going out next week and I said I didn't know. He said, "You've had two days to think about it and you haven't decided yet?"
I said, "I was thinking about Monday."
"Monday is good. I'll come over to your house around 8:00 pm. How's that?"
"Okay, I guess. You'll come over, and then what?"
"I don't know. Oh, you need to know. Well, I'll think of something."
"But we're not going to eat? I should eat first?"
"Yes, eat first, and then we'll do something. Maybe we'll watch football."
There was chatting about football and my inability to remember that the Chargers are from San Diego (he is a HUGE Chargers fan) and then he said, "What are you doing tonight? Maybe I could come over for a while?"
I started laughing. I'd been having this conversation with myself since the night before, "What are you going to do when he calls on Sunday and asks if he can come over for a little while? You know it's not a good idea. You'll stay up too late, you'll be tempted and it will be hard to get him to leave. But wouldn't it be okay if he just came over for a little while, a couple of hours? We could just make out, he could be gone by midnight, and I really want to see him. You know it's a bad idea. But why? Why is it a bad idea?" I completely failed to decide how to handle it.
Then, as I'd imagined, he asked me if he could come over. I said, "You can come over. I want to see you." He said he would call me later and we got off the phone.
I went shopping and I talked to Pele. I got home, did a tiny bit of cleaning, watched tv and didn't nap. By 7:30, I hadn't heard from Tim and I wondered what was up. It's not that I didn't think he would call, but I didn't want to wait. So, I called him. Maybe he was a little surprised. He said the Chargers game was tonight (Sunday) and he was going to watch it with a friend and did I want to go with them? (The game was on cable and neither of us have cable.) I said, sure, I would come to the bar and watch the game with them. Then I said, "Did you say you wanted to come over tonight, or was I just imagining that?"
"No, I did, but I was going to call you when I got done with everything. I had to do laundry and study and make dinner. And I took a three hour nap." (I didn't remember him telling me that he was going to do all this stuff and then call, but it made perfect sense.)
I said, "Okay, I get it."
"Do you not want to go out?"
"No, I do." I just wasn't sure if he wanted me to come. We discussed meeting and since he was still doing laundry we decided I should go to his house. And then I remembered something. "Oh, but I wanted you to help me with something."
"I was going to ask you to help me flip the mattress."
"Flip the mattress? That's BF duty, you know."
"It sure is. It was your big audition. And now you're going to miss it."
"I can come over and help you with it. Or I can do it tomorrow."
"No, tomorrow won't work because I have to make the bed."
"I can come over now...but it will take longer because I have to finish things up."
"No, no, it's fine. I'll take care of it. I want to come to your house. I'll be there in 15-20 minutes."
We got off the phone and I went and looked at my bed. I started to flip it, but instead I spun it. I rode my bike to Tim's house, which took about five minutes. When I got there, before I made it to the front door, he walked out of the house and opened the double doors so I could roll my bike in. He was puttering around, folding laundry and doing the dishes. He gave me a kiss and I felt nervous. His phone rang and he said, "That must be Ed." He looked at the display and said, "Oh. It's my wife." I went and sat in the living room and stared at 60 Minutes. He said, "Sure, okay, no, that's fine. Look, can I call you back later?...No, it's just not a good time to talk right now...I have stuff going on." He walked upstairs and was off the phone quickly. He showed me around the house and then we rode our bikes to the bar to meet his friend.
We were there for a few minutes before his friend arrived and I was still on edge. Between calling him when I felt like I shouldn't, having a vague feeling that he didn't want me there, and overhearing him talk to his wife, I was not as happy as I would have liked to be. But he was warm and affectionate and soon I was happy and calm. The game had just started when we got there and Tim was very into it. He said, "I should have worn my Chargers shirt--I have one you could wear too. And a hat, and we could each have a towel..." When they did well, he clapped, and when they made a touchdown, he kissed me. They made one touchdown that was recalled and he said, "I get a kiss for that anyway, because that should have been a touchdown."
I got along fine with the friend, and Tim said he liked me, though I wasn't so sure. The friend left around 10:30pm, but the game was still in full swing. Tim said we could leave by 11:00, but I didn't insist. I knew he wanted to see the end of the game, and I did too, even though they weren't my team. I understand the basics of football, but Tim enjoyed explaining some of the finer points of the game. When I figured something out that he'd explained he was happy and gave me a big hug. With about five minutes to go in the 4th quarter, we left since the Chargers had a commanding lead. We rode home and he steered us towards his place. I said, "Where are you going? I'm not going that way."
"That's my place."
"I know, but I have to go home."
"Okay, I'll ride with you."
He wanted to take me to his house and I wanted to take him to my house. I won.
We talked about our plans for this week and he said, "Are we going to that movie on Tuesday?" (I mentioned that I had a free pass to a movie on Tuesday.)
"Maybe, but what about Monday?"
"We can go out Monday or Tuesday, but I have to study one night, so you can pick."
"Tuesday should be fine. I don't know if I want to see that movie, though."
We got to my house and stood in the backyard for a while, talking at first, and then kissing. I said he probably shouldn't come in and he agreed. Then I said maybe he could come in if we set a time limit. We went in.
We sat in the living room and, after very few preliminaries, we were kissing again. I said, "This is not how I imagined this evening going."
"You mean after we went to watch game?"
"Right. I thought you would go home."
"That's what I thought. I thought I'd just get a kiss goodnight. I didn't think I was coming in." But how could either of us think anything else would happen?
I said, "Are we going steady yet?"
He said, "Are we?"
Around 2:00am, he said, "Are we going to sleep? Should I go home? We won't sleep if I stay here."
"I don't know. What do you want to do?"
"You're not very good at making decisions."
I said, "I want you to stay, but I know you need to rest."
He stayed. We slept fitfully and he got up to take a shower at 6:00 am. He left the towel folded "mom-style" after he used it. He has no right to be that good.
I think he isn't sure how I feel. Here I am, worried that maybe he's not interested, or not as interested as I am, but he's just waiting for the green light from me. He already told me he wanted to go steady. I didn't give him an answer. I know what I want and I'm going to tell him.
Grateful for: knowing the next step.