Today, I got to work at 7:45am. My boss was shocked, TR was shocked, our secretary was shocked and even I found it a little surprising. I decided to try something new this morning: I got up when I woke up. I usually wake up around 5am and go back to sleep for at least an hour--two if I'm lucky. I don't use an alarm clock; I haven't in years. I will set the alarm if I have to catch a plane, but on those night I generally don't get much sleep anyway. This morning was no different. At 6am, quite awake, I decided to get up instead of lolling in bed for another hour. I'd taken a shower last night, so there wasn't much I needed to do to get ready, but I allowed myself my usual hour-plus of puttering time and didn't leave the house until 7:25. I rode my bike, nice and easy, and was sitting at my desk by 7:45am. I don't know if I'll make this a habit--and I certainly won't if I manage sleep later--but it's kind of nice. Technically, I could leave by 4:15, but I won't do that. I'll stay until 5:30 and bike to rowing. The extra time will be banked and I can use it in lieu of vacation time later on--that's the real reason to come in early.
I wonder why I'm waking up so early. It is still dark, so I can't blame the sun. It's probably Tabitha (the cat) romping around and bugging me. Maybe she is due for another term of exile from my bedroom. I do hate to exile her when it's getting colder, though. She hasn't started sleeping under the covers yet, so maybe it wouldn't be that bad.
Yesterday, I ate a lot more than usual (turkey sandwich! crackers!) and went to the gym again. I did some weights and a more intense 15 minutes of cardio and it went much better. I had snacks for after the workout (apple! cookie!) and I never got that shaky low-blood sugar feeling. Today I'm determined to go to rowing. The weather is clear and warm, I brought my gear and I'm all set. I'm a bit tired, but I think I'll make it. Maybe all the tiredness will help me sleep well tonight.
What's funny about my current dating situation is that I feel completely single during the week, when I have almost no contact with Owen, but totally coupled up on the the weekends. Part of what I struggled with last week was reconciling a weekend of togetherness with a lack of contact afterward. This week, while there have been a couple of times I wanted to tell him something, I've been able to enjoy sticking with my normal weekday routine. At the end of the weekend we didn't make plans (except, ya know, for Halloween (party invite), Thanksgiving and X-mas), but I wasn't worried (maybe those long term plans helped allay my concerns?). I'm babysitting for TR on Saturday night so I knew I wanted to see Owen on Friday. Last night, it occurred to me that I would like to cook him dinner. In order to do that, I have to buy groceries. But, before going shopping, I wanted to make sure he could make it. I sent him a text around 8pm, when the plan started to form in my head: "Want to come over for dinner on fri?" When I hadn't heard from him by 10pm, I called. There was no answer and I did not leave a message.
That's about when I would usually start freaking out. But I didn't. I thought, "I'll call him tomorrow and we can figure it out then. And if I don't have time to go shopping, we'll do something else." I had to make it ok to let go of my plan, which is not easy for me. But I didn't think he was avoiding me or didn't want to see me or anything like that. I almost did, but I stopped myself. He'd explained the uncommunicative mindset he gets in because of work and I know he's been at the office some nights until 10pm, so I'm not taking it personally.
I was getting ready to take a shower around 11pm when the phone beeped: "Sounds like fun." So we're on for Friday. Cool!
I had a nice long talk on the phone with Pele last night and I filled her in on some of the details of my crazy weekend. She really likes Owen and she said, "He's such a good guy, a nice guy. And you're not worried about being mean to him."
"What?" But I knew what she meant. I've dated some very sweet guys in the past and I had a tendency to walk all over them. It was never intentional, but I'd end up awkwardly making all the decisions and getting annoyed and, subsequently, losing interest. I'd feel terribly guilty about mistreating these guys. I'd beat myself up about it and feel like I was a bad person.
Pele said, "Well, you've not worried once about that with Owen. I haven't heard it."
"You know, that's true. It hasn't even crossed my mind that I was being mean...and I haven't been annoyed either."
"You've really handled it well."
I said, "Not perfectly! 'Were you ever going to call me?' That wasn't so good. But, you know, he just let that go. That was good."
"He's good. And that was just one thing." Pele said.
"Also, he gives me as much of a hard time as I ever give him. Maybe that's why it's not a problem?"
"I think you're right. He gives as good as he gets."
And, my friends, I think I may have met my match. He's funny, smart--a wiseass. Takes my guff and dishes it right back. Has his own ideas and his own life. Likes that I'm smart. Knows that he's smart. Is possibly the silliest man I've ever met and can make me laugh, hard, in an instant. I like him for all those reasons, as well as reasons that I can't describe (and some reasons I won't describe). I feel silly, I feel happy. I feel good.
Grateful for: more food!
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