Thing 1

I have been encouraging my oldest daughter to start her own blog. She is a talented writer & artist, & I think it would be a good outlet for her.  She's agreed to try out the concept by doing a guest post on my blog once a month.  It was supposed to get posted Friday...my fault.  So, without further ado, I give you Thing 1 & the first installment of

Several months ago I went through a clean, peaceful break-up with my boyfriend of almost four years. And when I say clean and peaceful, I mean horrible and messy. 

But it was necessary and it is done.  

Since then I have been a swinging single. And by that I mean I’m officially starting over.

A few late nights and a few less-than-serious smooches added up to nothing except a little less faith in the male gender.  And then a ray of hope.  I was sitting on the picnic table outside my apartment when my buddy Andrew started talking to my upstairs neighbor.  At the same exact moment I realized that my upstairs neighbor is actually really cute. Tall, ginger beard, blue eyes, a sweet smile, employed, and conveniently located. I stood up, looked at him and dramatically blurted, “Hey, you should hang out...out here.” He politely pretended to not notice my odd desperation and smiled. I liked him already.  

We moved the party inside and then boy did we talk. And for the first time in a long time I deep down in my gut smiled.  A lot. Two hours later and Mr. Upstairs and I were arm and arm on the couch.   A little while later I let him kiss me good night.  I’m sorry, is that my heartbeat or is there a marching band coming down the street? Stupid girl eyes…

And the next day he texted me.  Noon the next day, perfect timing.

“Let’s watch the game Sunday night at your place.”

Done deal.

Quick call to make.  “Mom what do I wear to watch a football game?” Casual.  Girl next door.  Done.  Jeans and a red t-shirt it is. Curled yet tousled hair.  Done. Light but noticeable make-up? Done. Nude lipstick with just a touch of shine? Done.

Game-time.

After that successful showing, the nights really started to fly by. Texting from noon to nine every day.  Showing up at my door after work with desserts and a grin. I was melting.  Always gentlemanly.  No rude moves.  Always light.  I was happy.

Then it was Thursday and we had seen each other every day laughing, talking, watching news. But Thursday night there was a party.  And with it came the public debut of Mr. Upstairs and Miss Downstairs, meeting in the middle. Walking to the house-party and he looks at me, eyes twinkly, and says “I think I've staked my claim.” My insides do back-flips. Mr. Upstairs has staked his claim. Can you get the chills and melt at the same time? And the party was wonderful.  He held my hand and followed me from conversation to conversation.  Everyone said “Aww look at them,” and “You are such a cute couple!” and then all the grinning makes things get fuzzy but that night I was home and happy and part of a pair.

And then noon Friday, no text. So I text him, “Did you make it upstairs alive?” and we start talking and we joke and we say we like each other and we talk about seeing each other that night and I’m happy inside again.  And then nothing. 

And then I wake up in the morning to more nothing, and no text from Mr. Upstairs. And his truck is gone, not that I looked.  Hmmm.  

Did I do something wrong? Slightly stressed now.  I go look at fish at the pet store.  Who can be stressed when contemplating fish? 

Later in the afternoon and my phone whistles at me.  A text. Finally.

 “I don’t think we can talk anymore.”

Phone hits lap.

“Wait. What?”

It was just a week but a really, really good week. 

“Too serious too fast…Not ready for a relationship…You just got out of a long term relationship…It’s not you, it’s…”

Crap.

I put down the phone and lay down on the couch.

I need Starbucks.  I need a caramel frappuccino or one of those just returned pumpkin things.  I need out.

Open my door and there is Mr. Upstairs walking his dog. I briefly consider running back inside, but I know he knows I saw him. I walk out. I go get Starbucks. It doesn't help.

The next few days are beautiful weather wise, so I leave my windows open all the time to air out my mind.  Mr. Upstairs works almost every day so there are no more awkward run ins.

Then one day I hear his shoes, because you know, hang out with someone for a week and you hear their shoes?

I think I’m going insane.

I hear his shoes and I panic because the windows are open and he can see into my apartment.  Like he is going to go all peeping Tom on me?  Insane. 

But I hear his shoes and I sprint for my closet because he can’t  see me in there.

Face palm.

Hiding from the guy upstairs.  In my closet.  This is what we resort to, hmmmm? 

Don’t get me wrong.  It was only a week.  My heart is not broken.  And yet…. maybe it’s his saunter? Or his eyes? Or the way he makes my smile reach my toes?  And how do I walk outside and maybe see him and know I still like his face and he doesn’t want to have anything to do with mine?

  

There is more to the story.  I’ll be posting part 2 on some future Friday…life is so interesting and unpredictable isn’t it?  Especially when you are almost 20, and the girl next door.