Curve Ball-Foul Ball

 As a continuation of my journey to this playing field of which I'm on, I shall continue to share of meetings and happenings. After all, there are other players involved. They make the playing field more interesting and impact my outcome. I will tell of the hits and misses being played during the search for a new home, a new job, and other meanderings.
 "The morning after" wasn't awkward with Bryan. Neither of us had anything to feel ashamed of, really. Our morning began by drinking coffee out of different beer glasses...he doesn't have cups either. (laugh here.) I made a mental note of this and thought on my next visit, should there be one, I will actually bring beer. It may be more suitable for these receptacles. I wonder if he ever drinks beer from them, or does he drink that right from the BOTTLE? (smile here).
 We talked of the Seahawk's exciting, playoff game being televised in less than 2 hours. I reminded him I had plans to go to KP's house with another gal, (my doctor friend), and watch the game. We were going to "school" doc on football finesse. That is what I did when I left his home. I shared the tales of my 6'2" gent and our parleys, with them. They were engrossed, excited and surprised. It's not often Claire is so whimsical, which was the surprising part.
 A great morning was shared between the three of us. The Seahawks didn't have such a great morning as they lost the playoff game to the Falcons. The loss reflected a two point deficit, which would have been a win by one point should the other team not been able to REKICK the field goal with 1:41 left in the game. (I know, I know grumpy...coach should have taken a field goal at the beginning of the game, rather than trying to get a touchdown or 1 yard first down, from the four, on fourth down.)
 Normal routines set in with the new week. Mid week however, I got a random text from Mr. 6'2". "I feel like getting drunk. Know anyone interested in joining me?" I laughed when first viewing this message. I made a joke in response, inferring his mood or demeanor which would require that much alcohol. After our texting back and forth, and my decision to visit him, I texted him to give me time to; S, S & S...which in girl terms means, shower, shave and shine.
 I noticed he was bundled up in his usual attire, upon entering his home. Rather than secluded in his ass freezing, cold, man cave or rinsing dishes in the kitchen, he was vacuuming. I leaned in on him and asked if I could take a video and post it to face book. He quickly jested, "It won't do any good. All my friends know I'm fastidious. They've seen me do this before." When finished and his vacuum set aside, he embraced me in a nice hug and a couple of pecks. He swayed me back and forth during the hug, and I noted how comfy this spot was, how engaging it was to be held by someone so tall and strong. I was able to look UP at him, despite my heeled boots.
 After hours of conversation, he with his rum, me with my wine, he explained some important beliefs. Not all were new pieces of information, as we have engaged in deep conversations already. A reckoning hit me, though. He is a true, gentleman who does deliberate with himself on many aspects while problem solving. More so than the average bear.
 We've already discussed we don't view sex as a mere pastime or extracurricular activity. His deep belief stems from an upbringing of being raised with a few sisters who drummed into his head that he shouldn't use women. He made his own, real life observations as well. My belief is from being raised with a devout Catholic mother and that religion making you feel guilty about everything. He practices courtship and relationship development, prior to intimacy. I verbally applauded that practice. He doesn't have "protection" lying around the house like most, for that same reason. We had discussed this topic at one point because I shared with him, despite my age, I haven't gone through "the change of life." During my 7.5 years with hubby #2, I got the Depo Pravara shot quarterly, as birth control. (sorry guys...I don't mean to embarrass you.)
 Under nervous presentation, he stood up from the table and verbalized his mental debate. He has given a lot of thought to the fact that we probably shouldn't have sex nor get involved. His conclusion derived from the fact that although I am a "very cool lady", and he enjoys being with me a lot, I am a smoker. He quit smoking 5 years ago and is fearful of falling into that habit and trap should he spend too much time with me. I could tell he felt bad, and he could tell I felt bad. I made no promises to lighten up or quit, for anyone but me, when the time is right. He expected nothing else.
 He coaxed me into his arms and gave me another one of those bear hugs. Did I weep? I wept. It wasn't the bout of crying that smeared snot everywhere, but it was sufficient enough to have those stutters of catching your breath. Really? Really? "Am I really crying? Oh god, I can't believe I'm crying", "Why am I doing this?" Those were the sentences rerunning through my mind as he rocked me in his arms.
 Due to the late hour and the persistent fog that was rolling around, he invited me to stay. He determinedly went to his room and then, threw a sleeping bag on the living room floor. He gestured to his room and said, "You can sleep in there." During my comprehension of the situation, I insisted in not taking his bed. He insisted he couldn't have me sleep on the floor. I laughingly said, "We can sleep together. It's not like we're gonna have sex and I don't mind sleeping in my clothes." Oops, I wounded him. I reassured him it was fine and we agreed that it was better to know now than down the road, why he was apprehensive of any involvement with me.
 Again, he threw a jersey on the bed. I chose to sleep in my clothes despite his encouragement to change. He didn't argue my choice. Again, there we were, conforming to each others' shape and petting each other softly. His large hand slid over my figure as I lay on my side. It rolled with the curve of my hips and the dip of my waist. It rested on my rib cage and patted my tummy. He snuck his hand under my shirt to rub the small of my back and follow my spine. I rested my hand on his, muscular thigh. With comfortable hugs and apologetic kisses, we went to sleep.
 I understand, appreciate, respect and get why this happened. I am okay with it. I know and he's observed that I'm not a heavy smoker. To confess, I know of the odor, the taste and the health risks of being one, and of the foulness for those who are not. I arm myself with tools to alleviate these odorous affects as best I can. I have a couple of body sprays that are squirted on me, often, I carry a mini tube of toothpaste and travel brush in my purse. I chew gum, mints and air out whenever possible. But I know the lingering tide it leaves.  
 I'm just a foul ball in his line up. That's OK. He handled the announcement as gentleman-like as possible. I on the other hand, took the announcement like a school girl. But that's OK...there is another inning.