Break Week: 2, A Possum Ran Over My Grave
It's been a month since "the push." And, coincidentally, since the last time I wrote in this diary. Or, maybe not so coincidentally.
In my last entry, I wrote about not needing to impress anyone in these pages because this is my diary. I realize now that was bull shit. I've had this image of myself in my head, and this past month, I haven't been living up to that image. Because of that, I've been avoiding writing in here. But I need to get it out before I burst.
I met someone.
Aaaaaahhhhh! Writing that felt amazing and horrendous at the same time.
Okay, okay. As always, let me start at the beginning.
A week after the push, my friend, Connie, and I went out to a bar for a couple drinks. Nothing out of the ordinary. We try to go out once a month to catch up. By that time, Ethan was back in our bed, but things were tense. We were insanely polite to each other, but not very affectionate. I'll just say it. We hadn't had sex at that point since before the incident. I needed the night out with Connie. I wanted feelings and emotions. Not the stiffness I had at home with Ethan.
We--Connie and I--did talk about what happened with Ethan. Of course, I didn't tell her about the push. Just the argument. (I said the argument ended with him calling me a bitch, and a door slam as he left the bedroom.) I just figured that I didn't want Connie to hate Ethan after I've forgiven him, whenever that would be.
Okay, blah, blah, blah recap done. We're at the bar, Danny's, with the pool tables and the jukebox thing that will take your picture like a photo booth. After our second drink, and my Ethan story, Connie decides she wants to play pool. We're both horrible at it. But being slightly buzzed, we thought it would be fun.
Oh it was fun. And life changing.
Oh, fuck. Do I really want to continue? I guess I should.
Now, I already said we were bad at pool. Our first game, I don't remember much of. It was just uninteresting. We had a couple more drinks while playing that first game.
Maybe it was the drinks? Or my lack of billiard skills? But, at one point during our second game, I managed to launch the cue ball off the table. Of course, this was the funniest thing ever for us, and we dissolved into laughter. We fell on the floor, tears in our eyes. Couldn't catch our breaths. The type of laughter that I desperately needed.
We didn't know where the ball landed. Frankly, we didn't care. We were too busy rolling on the floor laughing like crazy people. But, there was at least one person who knew where the ball landed. And when he saw two women on the floor in hysterics by a pool table, he was pretty sure he knew where it came from. He grabbed the ball, which ended up by his foot, and came over.
I swear, the minute he approached us, I felt a chill run through me. It wasn't even cold in the bar, but I was chilled to the bone.
Anyway this man appeared, seemingly out of nowhere with our pool ball. Oh my GOD this man is gorgeous. He looked like he stepped out of the pages of a romance novel that took place on a ranch. He was wearing a cowboy a hat. YES! A cowboy hat in New England. Not a Dallas Cowboys hat. But one of those--what are they called?--12 gallon hats. On most people I know it would look silly. On him it looked incredible. It matched is tanned skin, dark wavy hair, and blue jeans perfectly.
I'm not going to go into much more detail about that night, because I can't remember all of it. Time and alcohol makes the memories hazy. But I will write what I do remember:
--His name is Hoyt (Yes! There are real people named Hoyt!)
--He bought another round of drinks for Connie and me.
--The three of us took photos in that photo booth. (I found the evidence of that the next day stuffed into my purse.)
So that's what I remember from that night. Oh, and I took a taxi home. Not that that part matters, but I have to make sure I know I was responsible.
The next day--no hangover, yay!--I got a Facebook friend request from Hoyt. I clicked on his profile, and again I get that chill. I saw that Connie is our mutual friend. To this day, I still don't know if I gave him my last name, or Connie gave him hers. No clue. But somehow he found us and friended us on Facebook.
::Confirm Friend Request::
An hour or so after I accepted his request, he sent me a message. I've since deleted the message, in fear of Ethan seeing it, but I still remember what it said. "Good afternoon, Beautiful. I hope you're feeling good today. I'd hate for you to have woken up with a hangover."
Beautiful. That one word. When was the last time I was called beautiful? Ethan used to say I was beautiful, but I have no idea when he last said it. But this stranger seemed to know it was exactly what I wanted--what I needed--to hear.
I debated on asking Connie if Hoyt messaged her, too. But I knew that I wouldn't like the answer, whatever it was. I wanted to believe it was nothing, and I wanted to believe it was something.
Hoyt and I exchanged Facebook messages for a couple days, then we exchanged phone numbers. I put him in my phone under "H". Ethan has never been the nosy or jealous type, so I wasn't too worried about him questioning who "H" was. And besides, at that time the texts were pretty innocent. Maybe a little flirty on his part.
That changed pretty quickly though. Less than a week from that first message we had a date. Well, a date might be the wrong word. Let me explain.
During one of our daily text conversations, I mentioned to Hoyt that I was going to the mall after work to look for a birthday gift for Connie. He asked if I minded if he came along. And that gave me a chill. (If we're counting, that's three times so far.) I told him I'd like the company, and got mad at myself for not wearing something nicer to work.
The rest of the work day was so slow. I just wanted to get out and see Hoyt. I text Ethan a quick reminder that I was stopping by the mall.
On my fifteen minute drive to the mall from work, I had a bit of a freak out. What was I doing? I'm married! I tried to tell myself that I was just going shopping with a friend, for a friend. But, then I wondered if Hoyt would look as good as I remember, as good as his Facebook photos. You don't wonder those things about a friend, do you?
Hoyt and I met at the main entrance by Macy's. The shopping was really quick. Connie loves scarves, so I bought her a beautiful deep green scarf with splashes of purple. (She loved it by the way.) I know I should have left then, but I wanted more time with Hoyt, who was just as gorgeous as I remembered. So we walked around a bit more.
By the time we left the mall, I had forgotten where I parked. Hoyt and I walked down one lane, the lane he was parked at the end at. I stood in front of his white pick-truck, and scanned the parking lot. He knew I was lost. So he told me to get in his truck, and we'd drive around and look for my car.
Right before he started the truck, I got another chill. I must have scrunched up my shoulders or something because he questioned it. I told him I got a random cold chill. He chuckled and said, "A possum ran over your grave."
Well this confused me. What does that even mean? Grave? Is he going to kill me? But he explained that it was something his grandmother used to say. If you got a sudden chill out of nowhere, it meant a possum was running over your grave. Instead of asking for explanation on this weird old wives' tale and the time travel it implicated, I admitted I've been getting the chills quite a bit since we met.
That's when he kissed me. I started to kiss back, and then pulled away. I told Hoyt that I'm married. He knew, of course. From Facebook, from my wedding band. He said he really liked me, and me being married wasn't going to stop that. He asked how I felt about him. And I told him the truth.
I can't stop thinking about him. He says words that I need to hear. I've been fantasizing of such innocent, but intimate things. Holding his hand; hugging him and breathing in his cologne; him wiping tears from my eyes as I confide in him my issues with Ethan.
In that brief time in his truck, all those fantasies came true. And he kissed me again, before driving me around to find my car.
Hoyt and I have had a bunch of small dates since then. Usually a lunch on my lunch break. We've exchanged many more texts and kisses. No, we haven't had sex yet.
Yet. That's probably going to change tonight. Ethan is going away on business for a four days, and I'm spending the night with Hoyt tonight.
I can't believe this is who I am now.
Oh! A possum just ran over my grave.