uh-oh, part two

Anyone who happened upon my previous blog post probably assumed I would never see Ian again. But the truth is, as usual, stranger than fiction - not that I'm complaining, as you'll soon learn.

Ian came by my house unexpectedly Saturday afternoon with a SITREP. He was able to do this as his wife had departed for a week or so Up North.  Seems he had been able to convince the wife that a) we were just talking, and b) he would not call me any more. Not that he had any intentions of sticking to b).

This didn't mean we didn't have a conversation about his situation. Even though I may appear a dedicated homewrecker, I really don't want to make anyone unduly unhappy. This includes women I've never met.

And although I think adultery is a symptom that someone is gradually realizing that their matrimonial promises are near-unworkable in the long run, I prefer that others discover the realities of their domestic gulag on their own. I am only interested in offering sympathy, kindness, and passion: things that are sadly absent from most marriages.

But back to Ian and Saturday. We ended up sticking to our original plan, which was the SMU/Tulsa game. We had chosen seating on the visitors' side, since there was the possibility he'd be recognized by Highland Park lacrosse players had we sat on the home team side, and he discreetly held my hand. Then we walked back from the stadium to the complex of restaurants near the local rail station. The weather was perfect: cool and clear.

We went to the Irish pub. Ian is from good Celtic stock, thankfully. We shared a single drink at the bar, then found a dark corner and ordered dinner. But most of it ended up as dinner for Boris and my other porch cats as we ended up decamping to my place. Somewhere along the line, dinner ceased to be a priority.

I don't know why or what caused me to see Ian differently that evening. It was like he had finally discovered how to transfer his desire for me, to me. He even looked different; his eyes were bluer.

Even though I'd been waiting for this time - the right time - in hindsight, I wish it hadn't taken so long for things to ignite. He was thorough and slow and perceptive. He had some delightful lacrosse-related scars and rough builder's hands. He was even stronger than I'd initially observed (a while back he repaired my front door - solid oak - with no visible effort). At one point, he picked me up as if I were half my real weight.

We reconvened later in the weekend at his place, where he shed some of his initial caution.

More later.