The Boy

Note: With the new blog comes the new Characters series.  These profiles are not meant to define the people in my life in any kind of static way.  It’s a look at them, at us, now.  Multiple character profiles may be written about one person, should the relationship or my perception of said person change.  This is the first look at one of my current favorite characters, and I hope I keep finding reasons to write about him.

Sometimes I inadvertently call him my boyfriend.

When you can measure the time you’ve been dating somebody in months, continuing to say “this guy I’m dating” becomes cumbersome and confusing.  It sounds like a new guy, like that last guy you were dating probably didn’t last.  But what about that guy from the coffee shop, Courtney?  What happened to him?

That’s who I’m talking about.

But I thought you said…

So I take the easy route.  The people who don’t know all the crazy details or any of the inner workings of my life get to hear the word “boyfriend.”  Everybody else who knows the story just hears his name.

The reasons we don’t use the words “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” are terribly clear, yet completely foreign to so many people, myself included.  Still, I’m so far beyond the point of needing social definitions that it doesn’t bother me one way or another.  We haven’t been out together in probably a month.  Would some of my friends be bewildered at this revelation?  Believe it.  When you’re dating, you’re supposed to, well, go on dates.  But there’s no need to go sit at a noisy restaurant and order greasy food to talk to each other when you can sprawl out on a couch or a floor where it’s quiet and there’s the option of busting out the Nintendo if the conversation lags.

The conversation never lags.

When we really start talking, really, he makes reference to things that he’s “sure we’ll get into someday.”  He’ll think twice about telling me a story he’s already started, and by the end will have mustered the moxie to tell me anyway.  We’ll pepper the serious moments with laughter.  I can tell him when I’m having a terrible day and he won’t see it as me seeking attention, he won’t blow it off as something I can get over on my own, though I probably can. He’ll come and he’ll talk with me and we’ll laugh.   He’ll tell me he hates the idea of me having a terrible day.

My heart will melt a little.

I feel as though he probably has more baggage than me, but then I think perhaps my baggage just can’t be verbalized quite as easily as his can.  Either way, we seem to have eased into things, and we’ll keep easing.  I see no signs that say otherwise.

I’m not in love with him.  I’m a little scared to be.  I trust him.  The situation is scary.  My past whispers in my ear.  I don’t remember the last time I dated one guy for this long, and it hasn’t been a long time.  Part of me thinks I should be home free.  This is a good sign.  Things he says.  Things he does.  Good signs.

But there are no guarantees and I’m scared.

So we see each other roughly once a week.  And he’s not my boyfriend.  And maybe someday he will be and maybe someday I’ll love him.
I know I could if I’d just let myself, but I’ve got to wait and see.

For now, he’s a shining light.  He’s hope.  I don’t want to know how this one ends, because I want to enjoy the journey.

It’s been a lovely journey so far.