The Story of a Weekend

I know that you have all been waiting for this story. I'm sorry that it's taken so long, but I've been enjoying holding it to myself for awhile. But I've been asked so many questions lately, that I suppose it's time for me to open up and share with my friends who enjoy hearing about my happy adventures.

Not even a week after Mike returned to West Virginia, I got a message from him asking how much time I would need to get some time off from work. Within hours we had our next visit planned, this time with me taking the cross-country trek. The best we'd been able to work out was a long weekend together with me flying on Thursday and Sunday, but it would be better than our original plan of not seeing each other again until Thanksgiving.

So, despite the fact that the end of September is not the best time for the payroll staff to be taking time off, I took a couple of days off to take a cross-country weekend-long date.

I won't bore you with the details of the flight because, well, it was not the most interesting part of the weekend.

Actually, I'm not sure many details need to be given about the weekend. We ate out a lot because he didn't have anything to cook at his apartment. I'm not sure if he even uses his kitchen any more than I do, so it didn't bother me any. We also watched a couple movies while I was out there. He proved my theory that movie choices would be reciprocal. In other words, we went to see a movie he wanted to see (Pandorum) and one I wanted to see (Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs). His movie actually gave me disturbed dreams, which I hated to admit. It makes me sound so. . . wimpy. It wasn't a scary movie (I mean, I watch way scarier ones with my aunt!), but my poor brain wasn't able to wrap itself around the mess that movie was. It was good to watch something simple and light-hearted the next day while my mind was so tired (btw, Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs was one of my very favorite books when I was a child, so I was thrilled to see them make it into a movie).

Friday night, we got all dressed up and did the fancy dinner date thing. He had told me that he was planning on taking me somewhere dressy, so I had packed a pretty black and red sparkly outfit that I have only worn once, my sexy red heels, and perfectly complimentary jewelry for the occasion. He even wore a tie (I love a man in a tie!). His town is so small that we were able to walk to the restaurant without it becoming uncomfortable in my suicidal-high heels. We had steak and creme brulee and a long and very interesting discussion of life and death and what happens to get us from one to the other. I know, it doesn't seem like the most romantic conversation we could have had while in such a romantic and lovely setting, but it's what we talked about. It was very enlightening and bonding, though, and I guess that's what dates are supposed to be for.

Oh, and I got him addicted to my favorite TV show: How I Met Your Mother. I had mentioned it enough in our conversations that he was curious to find out what it was all about. So Friday we stopped at a video store and he bought the first two seasons and we sat down and watched them. By the time I left on Sunday afternoon, we were two episodes from finishing the whole bunch of them. Unfortunately, that means he will have to find and watch seasons 3 and 4 on his own. But maybe he'll think of me while he watches them. (When I told my friend Barb about us watching the show, her comment was: "So you went all the way across the country to do what you probably would have done this weekend anyway?" But whatever. I see it as more bonding).

It was sad to have to leave him. I really enjoyed spending time with him out there. He's a wonderful host, very sweet and gentlemanly (more of a gentleman than I'm used to, in fact. I kept getting in trouble for forgetting to let him open my car door for me). And it makes waiting until Thanksgiving for the next time I can kiss him that much harder.

But he's very worth it.