It was endless, childish chatter and we put our faces together as we talked. I think Iris was accustomed only to talking properly, as it were: considering, pausing, modifying, weighing her words. To talk like a philosopher and a teacher. Now she babbled like a child... She seemed to be giving way to some deep need of which she had been wholly unconscious: the need to throw away not only the maneuvers and rivalries of intellect but also the emotional fears and fascinations, the power struggles and surrenders of adult loving.

-John Bayley in Elegy for Iris

I went out to dinner with a friend last night and got in late, hence this unusual morning blog entry. We talked about a lot of things, eventually moving to the topic of dating. She said, "You seem to easily find these people you can connect to."

While I corrected her by citing some examples, it made me think about the fact that a surprising number of people have put up with me over the years when I was pretty much just being myself.

No one I've dated has gone through as much tumult as TBID, though. I've been so adamant since meeting him that I don't want a label or a sense of obligation, ixnay on the oyfriendbay. From now on, I don't want a relationship that reminds me too much of others I'd had or most of the ones I've seen.

TBID didn't holler out, "Boo ya!" when we spent Sunday evening together talking and watching a movie and eating sandwiches at my place like a boyfriend and girlfriend might do. (It was only the second time we ever ate in). And he doesn't use my words against me when I bat my eyes and ask for help with technical stuff or manual labor. (If you wanna get the really heavy stuff moved, you often have to hire or date someone).

Now things just are. I don't care so much about the potential of getting hurt again. This very moment is wonderful, and I'll take that. I'm not sure how TBID mustered the tenacity and strength to scale my walls, but I'm glad he did.