Sunday Brunch

I walked to Old Town and had brunch with a man named Scott. We meandered to the Torpedo Factory and looked at art. He held my hand. We strolled along the Potomac and looked at the ice. He kissed me. And then he threw snowballs at me.

I don't know much about Scott. He might be a decent fellow. He might be a complete douche.
When I first met him, I thought, "his eyes are too close together". Today, after he's made me laugh quite a lot, I thought, "he looks like Andy Samberg from SNL".

He says he's single. No kids. I'll reserve judgment until I can fact-check these things.
I can usually sniff out the married ones. They're too confident in the way they move on you. They don't have the uncertainty that goes with wondering and hoping that you might have a real connection with someone. They give away compliments too readily. They're too physical. They aren't worried about establishing a power dynamic where they've surrendered too much of their independence. They're too ready with your coat or the door. They don't have much to lose if you say "no".  They dodge and weave when you ask about their home lives.
Not a lot of faith in men these days.

He's in the army. Don't know why I tend to have the most interest in the military types. Maybe I understand them the best. Maybe I believe they will understand me the best. I don't have to explain what it means to be doing things that are "operational" or to explain why it matters so much to me that I get off my couch and live for weeks or months at a time on a base or at sea. Why I want to be hiking Mount Cameroon with the BIR or climbing ladders on a ship instead of figuring out how to make swan figurines from apples.  Maybe it's delusional to believe that any man can understand what makes me tick.

I am fortunate to have friends who understand my ticking. They watched me walk into hell for Sjors and then witnessed as he betrayed me. They each have their opinion of MIVD and Sjors. Eve has seen my grief over the years. And now, she sits with me when the ghosts haunt me, and tries to remind me that this hell will not be forever. And Marie calls and texts me when she senses that peculiar darkness that threatens to settle. Corinne hears it in my voice over the phone and advises more time on the bicycle and in the sunshine.

Tonight, after listening to my description of Brunch, Eve opened the laptop. "Scott, eh? What's his last name? Where is he from? Let's see if his story checks out."

God help you, sir, if you are a complete douche.