Sunday, April 17, 2011

Quandry (I think)

Last night I started a load of laundry, did a short run, put a chicken breast on to saute with some onions and mushrooms, and called Piano Man at 11:22 for a phone date. We hung up at 2:38.  I had to get up for church this morning. He did not. He texted early this afternoon:
"Feel bad I kept you up so late.  Enjoyed talking though."
Whether it was the chardonnay I drank with my (very wee-hours) dinner, I also enjoyed talking. I recall being chatty. Piano Man, a good sport, indulged me as I talked about my hometown (Cando!) in North Dakota, my first job out of college in SW Minnesota (Pipestone!), my most recent Christmas Eve making sage risotto and breathing in incense for several hours at Church of the Advent. He in turn Googled to find reviews of the chardonnay (Bogle Vineyards) I was polishing off, which I indulged, amused by his seeming endless curiosity.
It was nearing 2 and we had transitioned into bedroom chat, at which point he said,
"I'm imagining right now how much more I'd enjoy this if you were here with me."
I thought that too, yes. Who wouldn't rather be kissing someone rather than talking over the phone about kissing? But I also thought, I can't say, really, that I know how much more I'd enjoy this. I've never watched his facial expression in response to a comment. Listened as he tried to sing and play "Ihr Bild" (Schubert). Had a chance to find out if affectations endearing on the phone are creepy in person. Or not. Kissed him.

I have no time to travel to New York in the next month to find it out, either, unless Piano Man figures out how to come here for a day. So we can meet in person.

And I can't figure out in the meantime, assuming our conversation continues, how much energy I should invest in him and not invest in other possibilities. Maybe I'm just not used to a man willing to talk to me about piano technique and wine varietals.  Who thinks about me on days after we talk and tells me so. Who called on Friday evening to say he was driving through Prospect Park, thinking of me, and just wanting to talk.

Maybe I'm just afraid to admit that we are indeed simpatico. Maybe I'm thinking that maybe if I just keep talking to him and have patience the answer will become obvious. Maybe he's a serial killer. Thrice-divorced and harboring moldy food in his cupboards. Talking to women in California, Montana and Vermont, too.

All questions I should ask. Although I don't want to assume this is serious. Or want to get emotionally tied up in something with no possibility. Or miss out if it is one. Or date someone who is 48. I don't think I have the stomach to start something that is long-distance from the get-go.

Yet I wonder if I should learn to have one, and try.

Or wonder if I'm being lame, idealistic, impatient or naive, or all of the above.
Day 16 of 30:  1.90 miles
Day 17 of 30: 5.51 miles
April Total: 36.99  
2011 Total: 190.93

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