I finally found me

a lonesome cowboy. I roped him and threw him over my saddle and rode off into the ... well, anyway, it was *something* like that. :-)

***
He's an Okie, works on trains.

When he first told me he was an Okie, I thought he was being clever, telling me he was a wanderer who went wherever there was work.

In fact, he *does* go wherever there's work, all over the country. Drives his big white mobile mechanic's rig here, there and everywhere. Spends his life in motels, pubs and alongside railroad tracks.

Turns out, I think, he was testing me - seeing if I'd reject him immediately for being a hick. Quite the contrary, I'd say - he turned my head to such an extent that I just followed him right to his truck and gave him my phone number.

And came back to my car later (after hunting down a part at the junkyard with mom) to find a note from *him* on my windshield.

Imagine me grinning so wide my face about splits in half right aboutcheer :-)

He fixed my car for me - first time a guy's ever done that for me. Or, at least, the first time I've ever had a 'boyfriend' type of guy do that, the other times were friends, and in most cases I was up to my elbows in grease right next to them.

In this case, for the first time in my life, I just stood by. I might as well have had a lace hanky, I felt like a GIRL!

I think that captures it. I have never been with a man who made me feel that way - like he could just lift me up and carry me off and I would be completely incapable of resisting.

But the thing is, as soon as you pull away, he lets go - and then when you come back he enfolds you, wraps you up in his arms like - well, I can't tell where he starts and I let off. I think I said this before.

My knees actually *do* get weak when I think about it. It's an actual, genuine, real phenomenon. I've had the hots for guys before, but this is in a different league - so visceral I feel like I hardly have any brain at all, I'm just one gigantic pheromone. Yeah, romantic, huh?

Romance has nothing to do with it. This is the raw, fundamental stuff - dirt and blood and guts and - LIFE. At its most essential.

While he was fixing my car I managed to resist just standing there gawking at him, though one time I did ask him a really dumb question, and he gave me this *look* with those bright blue eyes (what is it about blue eyes, anyway?) and I swear it went right through me. I can't explain it, but I swear I felt my ovaries TWITCH.

There was one time when I came to check how he was doing on the car, and he had his eyes closed with his head kind of turned to the side, facing me, he was totally focused on what his hands were doing, doing it entirely by feel.

He never cursed once, or even expressed much in the way of frustration, even when one of the stubborn old hoses wouldn't come loose. He just kept going, stopping to rest his hands when he needed to.

:-)

Maybe it's just a timing thing, and my body is so ripe and ready to have a child that I'm just flinging myself

No.

This is different.

It's not love, and it's not lust. It's more visceral than either of those things, and it's GREAT! I need a different word for it.

***
He's religious, and I'm not.

He believes that the man is supposed to be in charge; I told him I'd never be anybody's caboose, I'd never walk one pace behind and to the left of ANYbody. That I'd never be second fiddle, that I want a relationship that's like binary stars - I'm *no*body's satellite.

However.

He took me wherever I wanted to go.

He stood there and held my fiddle and pack and umbrella, all these things dwarfed by his huge hands (mechanic's hands, beautiful, strong hands)

Ok, so I'm a *little* bit in love. It's all right, I think I'll survive it. :-)

When I came out of rehearsal on Saturday a little earlier than expected, I called to see where he was at.

"Sitting here waiting for you," he said.

No games, nothing. Just straight up.

He is so FREAKING polite, I don't know whether it's the classic southern manners or just him, or maybe a little of both, but when we were at a restaurant having breakfast - well, let's just say, he's not crude and rude like most men. Even in private. It's not just a public show.

And he *notices* things. He pays attention, to little details, About EVERYTHING.

After he fixed my car, he seemed to be looking for something else to do - he checked my oil, my air filter, gave me some advice on a belt I was worried about. Helped me clean up, checked my car three times with the (voltmeter?) Stood there and waited while I drove around the block and came back. (Alternator, though with his accent it comes out "alt'nator".)

And the politeness. I mean, it's not that kind of artificial, social politeness - he genuinely *means* it. He's genuinely sorry if he offends somebody, and wants to make amends, immediately.

It's like he ties himself in knots to be helpful. But it's not awkward like that makes it sound - it's just, he's not terribly sure of himself. I *think*. I mean, he outright said, when we first talked on the phone after we first met, that he'd had some 'self esteem problems' in the past.

This is skipping around -

After dinner Saturday, I didn't want to just go home (it was at *least* an hour's drive from the motel he was staying at to where he picked me up), but he's not a city boy (actively dislikes the city), so I racked my brain for something he might enjoy. I offered him a choice between going dancing (he said he used to know how to two-step) or a cafe where a singer I'd been wanting to hear was playing.

He said, "Let's go to the cafe - I don't really care about dancing, and if it'll help you do something you need to do..."

I've never understood the idea of "letting the man feel like he's in charge" - I've always thought it was purest bullshit, and have never had and *slightest* desire to fill that role for any man.

But.

He was *so* generous, *so* kind, thoughtful, patient, undemanding.

I felt all the old anger at previous men - my father, brother, uncles, grandfathers, co-workers, past boyfriends, random men in the universe at large - just melt away.

I FINALLY, for the first time in many, many years, RELAXED. Maybe not *completely* (after all, that tension and resentment was many years in the making), but I found myself being insanely CAREFUL with him - careful of what I said, careful not to offend him (such as cussing, though I slipped up a few times and he never said anything).

It's like a kind of mind control, this incredible patience. He's like a freaking ROCK, he's so solid.

And yet, he's not. He's vulnerable, and open, and I feel so protective of him. It's the damnedest thing. And dang me if it doesn't WORK - he gets to look and feel strong, all the while leaning on me in subtle and quiet ways.

In return he lifts me up and holds me in his strong arms and does things I cannot do for myself. I felt like a queen, like royalty.

***
It's simultaneously something I've never really believed existed, and yet I think I finally get it. He puts you at the center of his universe, there *are* no other women besides you. He does not in any way allow you to be shaken by a wandering eye or roving hand. He's solid.

Now, mind you, I've spent a grand total of, oh, 15 hours with this guy? Over the course of a few days. And in a few *more* days? He'll be gone, and I have no idea (at this point) whether I'll ever see him again.

The god thing, the 'man is the head of the household' thing, the Oklahoma thing - well, we haven't talked about it.

*I'm* the one who said (to *him*, after talking with him for about 45 minutes in his truck outside the cafe, while waiting for the singer's act to start), surf, baby surf - life's short and unpredictable, and, in the words of Ferris Bueller, "if you aren't careful, you could miss it."

***
I think this is also the first time I've been attracted to someone who's truly opposite. Though in some ways we're amazingly similar.

I don't know *what* to think, and soon he'll be gone.

I just want to gather as much of him in my memory as I can, like rose petals to press between pages of a book, of sweet peaches to can against the cold of winter - memories of warmth, sweetness, kindness, generosity, and strength.

I keep thinking of more little moments: When we were getting ready to go Sunday morning, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed, putting his hair (shoulder length) in a ponytail. He shook it forward, still wet from his shower, like a woman would, except, not. Mmmmm.

***
He's so SIMPLE. And yet, not simple-minded, though he sometimes comes across that way. He just - doesn't seem to need much. He's pretty self-sufficient - when I came out from the shower, he was lying on the bed, fully dressed, arms behind his head, apparently contemplating nothing in particular, just lying there.

I knew he had to go to work, though he didn't say a thing about it, never rushed me, never said a word. Just got dressed and ready to go, and then laid on the bed.

He didn't seem patient, or impatient - he was just waiting, like I imagine an old Indian might wait, with no particular sense of urgency or hurry, just doing one thing after the next with this absolute calm.

I think that's what I really like about him, at certain moments, there's this utter *peacefulness* about him. Something self-contained.

And yet, he still *needs* me, or, somebody. So that self-containment doesn't come off as standoffish or aloof - just, self-contained. But then when he grabs onto me, it doesn't feel clingy - it's more like - roots, digging into the soil, seeking sustenance. It's like I'm the earth, and he needs me to grow into.

***
I felt like he was always testing me, to see what I'm made of. We're supposed to have lunch tomorrow (Tues), we'll see if he's done testing me yet.

So far he's let me make *all* the moves, though he hasn't resisted or rejected any of the moves I've made. I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

***
His language is very old-fashioned, almost archaic sometimes. And yet, he like Guinness, and Fat Tire, and raspberry vinaigrette. (!)

Wonders never cease.

***
He wears jeans and a t-shirt and big heavy work boots, and listens to classical music.

[Sigh - Blooger ate a big chunk here]

like it never happened before. The magic of chemistry.

***
Also, just for the record? Hollywood movies are evil. I just watched a classic rom-com chick flick, and had to snap myself out of the haze of wishful thinking afterward.

Grasshopper, PULL yourSELF toGEther! (Whap, whap!) (shades of Edna Mode :-)

I'm trying really hard not to think too much, but rather to just go with it.

I'll keep you posted.