I have met a boy.
A man, really. A boy would be pretty squicky.
But it feels like a high school crush. Not the high school I went to or the way I went to high school, though. Studied indifference + avoiding all responsibilities = no fluttery, butterfly feelings for a boy in my high school. Too busy trying to alternately melt into the background and get the fuck out.
I am talking high school with the montages of far-off stares and private smiles. Notes left in lockers and walks in the woods, holding hands. Cozy dates with fluffy blankets (these montages always have the best throws/blankets and sweaters/coats). Sideways glances and actually giving a crap what you look like when you walk out the door.
Except I have felt too old for courtship and was pretty sure that I had already had my last first kiss. My last first anything. (nudge, wink, cheeky reference which isn’t even veiled and everyone knows means sex, so what the hell?)
Which is tough to swallow, yes, when that whole thing goes to shit. The idea of any new firsts of any kind has been horrific, not because of grief or any of that but because OH MY GOD. Do I really have to go through all of that shit again?
Because life isn’t like the high school with the montages. It’s uncomfortable and messy and complicated and there are things to be navigated and disclosed that I haven’t told anyone in 16 years. There are the adolescent things that I haven’t thought about in 16 years, plus adult things like money, kids, blah, blah, blah.
And thinking about those things is no fun, really.
Which is why, mostly, I’m not. Truly.
I find this boy, the same one I shared my Pappy with (and no, that’s not a reference to anything, but I guess it could be if you wanted to try really hard), interesting. And not in a euphemistic way either. Like, keep-me-up-at-night-I-wonder-what-he-thinks-about-this interesting.
The kind of interesting that is intriguing to me. The kind that hasn’t been around in a very, very long time.
The best part about this boy is that he is so interesting to me that if things don’t progress to anything else for any reason, I would enjoy him anyway. He is awfully pretty to me, though, so there’s that, but I like what he does, and who he is, thus far.
Though he has one flaw that I have discovered, right away.
He is a vegetarian.
Now I am all about an alternative diet. I am annoyingly (to some) gluten-free without a celiac diagnosis (fuck off, haters. I just feel better, okay?). I grew up with vegetarians (when dinner was mostly dirt and grass). The Teenager has a vegan friend. My cousin Jennifer (and other relatives I know) are allergic to shellfish.
I understand no meat, spiritually, morally, and physically.
But no homemade chicken stock? No crab? No fish? What the hell?
He’s not even overly fond of cheese or eggs, both of which can be quite astonishing by themselves when cooked perfectly.
No, this one requires something special, and I am at a loss just now.
Possibly because I have been awake since 1:30 a.m., lying in bed, twirling my hair, and wondering if I should even be writing this post in the first place.
Here it is, this post, with a request for suggestions. What should I try first?