So one night stands and old fuck buddies aside I’m actually, gingerly, cautiously stepping into the dating scene. I’m still so very hurt and terrified of going through that kind of hurt again that I am keeping my heart very guarded.  However. There is a boy.

I met him at the only place in town where people go to dance. It’s not the kind of place where I would normally look for anything more than a guy to grind with on the dance floor for a couple hours to forget the pain. The kind of guys who hang out there, the locals, they are just not the kind of guy who have very much to offer, especially to a 25 year old single mom. But there was a night where I was so very drunk and so very hurt I actually went out dancing with friends and went home with a perfect stranger. This is not something I have ever done before. It is not something I will likely repeat. Considering the bar I was in, it was not a wise decision. My friends tried very hard to get me to go home with them. But I never have been one to listen to others well, even less so when inebriated. And Squirt was with Goof, the music was good, the drinks were flowing, the dancing was hot and I stumbled off with some guy unknown to me to go back to his condo to have a night of very drunk, very loud, very good sex.

The next morning I woke up to a pounding head, no idea where I was. As it dawned on me what had happened I was terrified to roll over and see what was lying in bed next to me. I had a moment of panic as I realized I could remember so little of the cab ride back to his place that we could have driven 5 minutes away form the bar or 2 hours. I had no clue. Yes, this was not my brightest of all nights.

As the form lying against my back stirred I tensed up. Oh. Good. God. What was I about to greet. A bleary, blue eyed, dark haired, very handsome face rolled over and fucked me again. Almost silently. Morning light pouring in his east facing windows and hurting our hungover eyes. We screwed and fell back asleep.

The second time we woke up it was already 11:30. I relearned his name I could not remember from the night before. We talked a bit about people we both knew. People I had worked for, with whom I used to live and considered my second family. People he had been doing contracting work for for quite a while. We realized we had missed meeting each other by just a couple months when I stopped working after Squirt was born.

I realized my friends would be *quite* worried by this point. I thought my phone was dead, but could not be sure as I had no idea where it was. I had another moment of panic, ohmygod did I loose it at the bar? In the cab? But, no, my hook up assured me I had been texting the night before in bed. When we finally found it, tossed in disarray  in the heat of the moment, there was a brand new spider crack in the corner where I’m pretty sure it made pretty vigorous impact with the wall the night before.

Ohshit yep, it had been accidently put in airplane mode. Miss Stiles was probably certain I was cut up into pieces by now. When I took it out of airplane mode there was 4 voicemails from her around 3 in the morning. Each one slightly more panicked and irritated than the one before. All along the lines of “Fable Echo Quill where the hell are you? You had better not be dead in a ditch somewhere!” I called her. She was off to work, but glad to finally hear I was not dead.

I was relieved to discover I was still in town, not too far from Miss Stile’s house where my car and belongings were. My hook up kindly drove me (in his sexy pick up!) back there, but not before exchanging cell numbers. Miss Stiles was gone, but her roommate and some of the party goers were still milling about. In last-night’s-cum-stained-booze-reeking dress I did my walk of shame to collect my things.  Yep. Not my proudest moment. The roommate (who has become a very, very good friend these days, she’s next up for a nickname here) and her boyfriend got a kick out of me showing up. But no time for too much poking fun at me, I also had to go to work.

This all happened about a month and a half ago, now I go see this boy a couple times a week. We hang out, play video games  in our underwear together (he’s not a real gamer though, he’s never heard of Skyrim and doesn’t even know what an RPG is, I think I need to educate him!), have good sex, go hiking, he grills me meat (I don’t think he has cooked a veggie in his life, more education!) go for walks hand in hand along the shore at sunset. We text every day. “Good morning!’ “how is your day going?” “I’m a little buzzed” “Sweet dreams”. We’re still seeing other people. He lamented to me the other day about his date that got too hammered and passed out before he could get laid.  I tell him how I’ve been sleeping with Miss Stiles’ brother again (shhh, don’t you *dare* tell her!). Miss Stiles is thoroughly appalled that we’re still sleeping with other people. She just does not understand. I’m not anywhere near ready to be exclusive. I’m not jumping into anything too quickly. My heart is too wounded. Not to mention I’m still very much in love with Goof, no matter how head over heels he is for his new girlfriend.

For now, we enjoy each other’s company. He have good sex. We enjoy cuddling when we are too tired for sex. Miss Stiles be damned, I think we have a lovely little arrangement. It may become more, but slowly. So very slowly and cautiously.


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