Once you have rung a bell, there is no unringing it. Derek and I had jumped to a level of intimacy it might have been wiser to achieve over a bit more time, but neither of us really had any regrets about it. As much as I disliked the word amazing because it had become ubiquitous, I embraced the word like a long lost child when he described me with it the next day.
I need not have been concerned about intimacy careening down the road at breakneck speed because a rockslide and a snowstorm created some problems when it came to seeing one another. I was concerned about the rockslide blocking his ability to get down from his foothills home, but he assured me that if I needed him, he could get to my house. It had never occurred to me that I might need him to get to me for some reason, but I found the fact that he would find a way to do so strangely comforting. And he liked the fact that I found it strangely comforting . . . a lot. Was he a man who wanted to look after his woman? If so, I liked that a lot. The fact that I am independent and can take pretty good care of myself has never meant that I don’t love a man who wants to look out for me, providing that control is not part of the bargain.
We did manage to get together twice that week and once the following week, two of those times at my house and one time at a restaurant. Getting together was going to take a little maneuvering because many of his weekends for the rest of the spring and into the summer were already committed. And he had a dog to get home to, so getting together after work was not much of an option. I quickly snagged at least one day on weekends that were not completely committed, and we made a point of getting together during his lunch hour when we could. He telecommuted as much as half of the time, but he was also on flextime, so when he was at the office, he could take a long lunch. We took advantage of that.
Lunch at my house meant trying to get some food into him, chatting, and sitting on his lap or using one of the many stairs in the house for a little necking. I liked lunches at my house, but I also liked lunch out. For one thing, I liked being with him among other people. I liked being the woman on his arm. But I also liked the fact that physical closeness was not sacrificed when we were out because he made a point of sitting right next to me until our food was served. He just wanted to be in basic physical contact, and there was no argument from me on that. Another advantage of eating out was that it gave me an excuse to up the game with my attire a bit. After our lunch out, he texted me that my outfit had been dangerously cute. That was exactly what I’d had in mind with it.
In between those lunches, we texted and talked on the phone. One of his texts included a photo of him with one of his cats on his lap. I texted back that they were both adorable, but that I would like to be the one sitting on his lap, and his reply was that he had the same thing in mind. About twenty minutes later, I texted again to say that I was trying to read but having a difficult time because of the photo and my thoughts about his lap. He liked that I would admit to the distraction. I liked that I was willing to admit to it. I was completely unguarded with this man.
Two weeks after the first dinner at my house, Derek went to visit his stepdaughter and grandchildren who lived several hours from the Denver metropolitan area. He would be gone all weekend. I decided to make my own plans for the weekend and called my best friend, Antonio, who also happened to be the shaman to whom I had once been apprenticed. I scheduled a shamanic journey with him. I could journey myself, but even a shaman can benefit by allowing another shaman to facilitate a journey for them. The infusion of the other shaman’s energy takes it up a notch, and I needed it taken up a notch because I wanted to understand just what was going on. Why had that switch been flipped around the time of my birthday and what was the underlying purpose in my budding relationship with Derek?
A journey would shed light on it.
Note: The name Derek is fictitious and has been used out of respect for the man involved.
Copyright 2016 by Melanie Mulhall