I Should Really Give Him a Chance
He’s such a good guy, Someone New. I finally made the decision to give him more of a chance. I keep him at an arm’s length all the time and if I continue to do so, I think I’m going to push him away too far. He’s trying so hard to win over my affections. Slowly but surely, I think it’s working.
Most guys would have given up on me by now. I blow him out more often than I don’t. He’s always buying me little gifts and cute little trinkets and I barely remember the dates he asks me to schedule me in, weeks in advance. When I blew him out last night for a work-related drama, he took it so well. Much better than I had anticipated, especially after the amount of effort he had put into the occasion. I would have been raging mad. And I often have been in the past. God, I’m such a hypocrite.
He was planning a nighttime picnic under the stars in his backyard, complete with (citronella) candles (to keep the bugs away), soft music, aphrodisiac food, wine, etc. All I needed to do was bring a picnic blanket and some croutons. Oh, and turn up. I couldn’t even manage that.
What is wrong with me? This guy is too perfect for words. I really should be giving him more of a chance. Rather than focusing on the ridiculously stupid things he does wrong – those little things that aren’t even worth mentioning because they are so insignificant – I should focus on the stuff he does right. Which is an awful lot, now I come to think of it.
There was the beautiful Pandora Daisy ring he bought me for my birthday, for example. We were in the Pandora store a while back, looking for a gift for someone else, and I came across this daisy ring that I’m absolutely adored. They didn’t have one in my size at the time, so we left and I forgot all about it. Then, out of nowhere, he springs it on me. The ring I wanted … and in my size! I don’t know how he did it, but he did.
That’s not it; he also got me a beautiful Parker pen. A pink one. I once told him the story of when my sister broke my original Parker pen, a gift to me from a great-grandfather who had since passed away. He didn’t just listen to my story, he remembered it. He took it in. And then he bought me a replacement pen, almost virtually the same as the one I’d described to him, but in pink instead of silver. I’d give for a man to do that for me at any other time. I don’t know why it didn’t seem like such a big gesture when it came from him?
He listens. He learns. I can tell him anything and I know he’ll take it on board like an adult and deal with the information appropriately. For the most part, anyway. He remembers things and buys me little gifts, not because he’s trying to buy my affections, but because he’s thinking of me and wants me to know as much. I really should do more cute shit like that for him. I did send him a ‘love letter’ the other day. One that didn’t actually contain the word ‘love’, obviously. We’re not there yet. But that letter meant a lot to him, I could tell. It seemed appropriate to send him a handwritten letter since he bought me a beautiful ink pen and all.
It was the pen that did the trick, I think. Stupidly. The letter was kinda like my way of telling him I was starting to catch up with him on the feelings department. Trying to catch up. That maybe, just maybe, he might be someone I could fall in love with. Maybe, without even realising, I am already a little bit? That L-word is still hanging over us – me, really – like a dark cloud. But I’m not going to say it until I’m completely ready. But maybe I might be someday soon? And doesn’t he deserve the chance? He’s put up with all of my shit up until now — lateness, blowing him out all the time, being so noncommittal towards him, using him to get over the ex that spectacularly broke my heart (which I know I’m not meat to say out loud).
Maybe I’ll give him a bit of a chance. Just a bit.
