Friday, April 13, 2012

The Letter of the Day is L.

I wanted to write a whole post about lentils, but I know nothing about them so I decided to write about something that doesn't require a ton of research, and that's lovvvve.  In honor of L day, I'm pulling an old blog off my livejournal site.  It's about Poker Night, which has a P and an N but still no L, but be patient.  It's there.   :)

From April 19, 2010.

I love when my dog sits down while eating her breakfast out of her dish, as if the whole standing thing is just completely overrated, and also, exhausting.  

I'll be the first to admit that there have been times in my life when I've been quite cynical.  I've never been a relationship-basher, necessarily, but I've found myself in enough bad relationships to know that, sometimes, a person is better off alone.    

Then someone comes along that changes the whole perspective, and it's wonderfully scary.

Better still is when the one who comes along is nothing you were looking for, nothing you were planning on, yet they come into your life and from day one, you can't get them out of your head.  Even better than THAT is finding out they feel the same way about you.

There's a saying or something that says that the right person comes along when you aren't looking, or when you least expect it, and it's the truth.  It's the premise to almost every sappy romance movie out there, but I'm beginning to think that maybe those writers had it right, after all.

You're in a relationship with a guy who doesn't seem to care, and you reach a point where you've given up as well, but you just need to play out the last hand and make it official.  It's a Saturday night, and you'd planned on going out with this guy for a few drinks, some lively banter, and a few more drinks.  Typical.  Only, as is also typical, he calls you at the last minute and bails.  Something about being tired.  Again.

You're dressed and ready to go out, literally.  Pants and make-up are on, your hair is just right.  And then you remember an invitation.  Your best friend and her boyfriend had invited you and YOUR boyfriend down to their place for poker night.  It had been a well-received invite to you, but you'd written it off as something your part-time boyfriend wouldn't really be interested in, so you'd closed the door on it.  Now, however, it's a different story.  You wonder if you could still go solo, despite the late hour and the long drive ahead?

This internal decision takes minutes, so you're still standing in your bedroom when you call, feet planted in the very same spot you were standing when you got the voicemail from part-time boyfriend.  Your best friend answers the phone on the first ring.

Trying to hide the desperation in your voice, you ask her if poker night is still a go.  You tell her about the fucked-up voicemail from the part-time boyfriend, and she gives you directions to the new house you haven't yet been to, seeing as you've been busy wasting your time with other things.  The best friend isn't truly certain you're going to make it, which makes you that much more determined to go see her.  You Mapquest her address and you're out the door.

After an hour's drive, you arrive at best friend's house, and there he is.  He.  Him.  In a room full of people, he's there alone.  Your best friend doesn't yet notice your attraction as she introduces you to everyone.  Richard.  His name is Richard.  You tell yourself not to forget that.

You pick up bits and pieces about him, sifting thru the other information you're getting about the other people who, at this point, barely exist.  He's sitting alone at the poker table.  Not alone as in he's the only one at the table, but he's not there with anyone.  Richard.  You can't make eye contact with him for more than a few seconds at a time, because you're feeling something.  And you're telling yourself that you shouldn't be feeling something, because technically you have a sometimes-boyfriend.  But, then again, isn't that just a technicality?

A few times, Richard asks you if you're going to come play poker.  You're standing in your best friend's kitchen, you might've even been in the middle of a conversation, who knows, but eventually you say yes.  Yes, you'll come play poker.  See you later, best friend.  Wish me luck...and I'm not necessarily talking about the poker game anymore.

Now you're sitting next to him.  NEXT TO HIM.  And your best friend is right...he really is cute.  He's from Alabama, you got that.  It makes sense with that accent.  Oh my God, that accent, and those eyes, Jeez.  You still can't make eye contact with him for more than a few seconds at a time because your heart starts beating fast, it's this physical connection that you can feel, and it's making you crazy because you don't even feel that way toward your own boyfriend, so what the fuck is really going on?

When the night is over and all the money's been won, you're out on the porch, smoking, and you don't want him to leave, but his friend is leaving and he's got no ride.  For a moment, you share a look, it's all you can risk, you can't possibly ask him to stay, that's crazy, but you give him a look and in your head, you're thinking over and over and over "Don't leave.  Don't leave.  Don't leave."  And you think, just for a split second, that he can hear what you're thinking, because he's hesitating, too, and the night is over and there's really nothing left, but you don't want it to end.  And you keep thinking it over and over "Don't leave" as you're telling him goodbye and that it was nice to meet him, and then he leaves.

And no sooner does he get out the door than you say to your best friend and her boyfriend:  "Your friend, Richard, is lucky he left."

"Why?"  They both respond.

To which, you honestly reply, "Because if he hadn't, I think I would've made out with him."

They both raise their eyebrows in unison.  By God, you've just given them a mission.  Imagine your surprise when you find out the next day that Richard hasn't stopped talking about you, either.


Later days, people.  A trip to the store is calling my name.