Last night, after dinner out with friends, a margarita and a few bites of Special Man’s Cancun Platter, I sat with him on my bed as he went through his laptop and compiled a list of music to make a CD for me to take with me on a quick road trip. He was doing something nice for me, I think, in part to show support for the fact that I’m driving several hours for a date with someone new. Someone he knows I think is smart and funny. Someone he knows must have caught my eye, as he is of the (fairly accurate) opinion that I am picky, (though I prefer the term selective). I know he worries and is protective of me. He asked me last week, why drive, when there were probably 300 men I could connect with, within a fifteen mile radius of my house; why this guy? (That’s when I told him that the Sheriff was smart and funny and I liked him, and that didn’t happen very often, which may have made him nervous.)
I like to verbally process things. Special Man is different. He will listen and discuss and analyze with me when I need or want it, but his process is very different. He works through most things quietly, and internally. I’m still learning this.
I think burning this CD for me is his way to poly up and show me that he’s good, even if he’s uncomfortable.
I love that.
(More about the Sheriff later, and no, he’s not actually a Sheriff.)