Experimentation

I'm experimenting with a new word in my vocabulary. The word? Boyfriend.

I look my steering wheel square in the face and whisper, "I think I have a boyfriend." I smile at my reflection in the mirror in the ladies room and think to myself, "Maybe I have a boyfriend."

He called my home phone while I was at work today just so he could hear my voice on the answering machine. He closed his message with, "I'm crazy about you, Girl."

What?

Wow!

Let me go get you a big broom 'cause you're sweepin' me off my feet.

In the past four years, there has never been a man I thought of as my boyfriend. Men were "this guy I'm seeing", "my Friend", "my honey" (spoken with a Southern drawl), and so on. None of them even seemed like a boyfriend.

This one has that air about him: that fun — devil may care — joie de vivre — what the hell — let's go have some fun — boyfriend air.

This could be fun.

(I wrote this last night while waiting for our evening phone call. Then when the call was over, there were too many gongs crashing in my ears and I almost deleted it. But I'm posting it now so you'll know the peaks and valleys in my roller coaster have not flattened out at all.)