Stacy and Travis
Mid-2006 was the start of an almost year long man-craze I went on after I was completely over my baby-daddy. I was faithful to him for almost 10 years ... so I was on a mission. Have fun, score lots. And did I ever. It started with my still faux-husband, cruised over a three month rebound-boy who was as unattractive as pooh, past a few random hook ups and dates, and even covered a two-month relationship I was having with a fantastic guy that I clicked with ... hard. He was good in my mind and in my heart. He drove an Escalade and took me to hockey games. He wanted to get serious before I was ready, so I quickly let him go, but I still think fondly of him when I hear Pour Some Sugar On Me. We weren't sleeping together though because I just couldn't let go of the hot 22 year old that I had given exclusive rights to my lady-bits. From January to May 2007, I had flowers delivered to me at work six times. SIX. The receptionist and most of the women on my floor were jealous. I was having fun and I thought I was just getting warmed up. Until one unplanned day in April 2007. I was dragged to a party by my sister where there was a handful of single boys. One of whom spent a little more time talking to me than the rest and who I thought was kinda cute. When the night was at it's close and although not drunk, but not steady enough to drive, my sister, Silly Sally, announced in the middle of the living room that her sister couldn't drive and that someone had to make sure I had a place to sleep. She looked around, then pointed at Travis, who was in the middle of poker hand. He folded his cards, probably an Ace-high flush, and found us a spare room. We laid in the bed until 7am. Talking, laughing, kissing, talking, and laughing. And we did that a few more nights over the following six weeks until I decided he had waited long enough ... hell ... I had waited long enough. We had been holed up in his bedroom for three days, had some heavy make out sessions, and I hadn't scored in .... well, a long time. So we had the schnoo-schnoo. And I was hooked. So hooked that when I fell in love with him in the weeks that followed, I didn't even notice. If felt good, felt great, I had no idea what it was. As summer ended, we packed it in. I was a little blue, but happy to have had such a wonderful time with him, to meet so many great people, to have made so many great memories. At the end of that September, I got an unexpected 2am booty call from Travis, which then turned into our relationship. His exact words to me one month ago today when he left me on the couch were "I was looking left, and you hit me with a right!" Only that time, September 2007, I admitted to myself that I loved him and probably should be careful. The year that followed was sticky. Fabulous. Hard. Easy. Crazy. Fun. Complicated. I was in love with someone who was obviously in love with me, but also obviously pretty messed up. I took it in stride because I had a pre-teen to raise and a full time job anyway. I told myself I didn't have enough time for a full-time relationship and decided I wasn't willing to let him go to start a search for something that everyone was telling me I sooo deserved, that I still argue may not even exist. We dropped the L-bomb a year after we met, then broke up shortly after. We found our way back together within weeks, maybe a month, mostly because I was too fabulous for him to let go of, and we decided to give it a real shot. We had been exclusive, loved each other, enjoyed each other. We had fun together, never fought and didn't need to be together every waking minute. I didn't need him to be my knight in shining armour. I was financially stable, raising my own child, buying my own house, I had built my own life. He had a perfect little spot in it, and I had a perfect spot in his. I began to appreciate our time apart - when he was on Travis-time, which then led to an even stronger appreciation for the time we spent together. We became a solid part of each others lives, each others circle of friends, and families. And against the current, started making our impossible relationship work. I sometimes wished he was my future husband, step-dad (or Pappa Travis he used to joke) to my child. But most times, I was just happy to accept what was right in front of me because it was really great. He made me so happy, smile so big, and laugh so goddam hard, that when I thought of my life without him, I'd cringe. I couldn't imagine it, I still can't. But, in the back of my mind and certainly not all the time, I had thoughts about walking away ... I started wondering sometimes what my life would be like if we weren't together, if we had let whatever this was die long ago. Where would I be? What type of man would be by my side? Would there be a man? Hell ... would there be more kids? (ok, I even made myself shudder a little at that thought .... ). It's September 2010 and I'm facing what maybe I should have already. Maybe. But then I wouldn't have so many good times to look back on, wouldn't have had the pleasure and experiences with this man that doesn't even know how wonderful he is. The rotten, gut-wrenching shit I'm faced with now is that I love him. I love him and I probably have to let him go. And if this magic he's trying to find, or whatever he thinks he needs to take away his troubles and bring him back to me never comes, I'll have to be okay with that. Correction, I will be ok with that. One day. Far off in the future. My mind is telling me this. And thank god for my mind, because my heart is telling me to go all crazy bitch and beg him to come back.