I had spent the day of the trip like any other. I woke at eight, took a shower and dressed, then had barbecue with the Snowmonster in town. Unlike other days, I spent the evening on a plane to see my best friend and college roommate in Maine.
Being only my second flight ever, I was quite nervous. I boarded the plane and took my seat next to an older gentleman. Unfortunately for him, I had the aisle seat and separated him from his wife and kids. I offered to switch him seats, and found myself wedged between this older man and a fellow roughly my age.
Can you guess where this is going?
Yup. I met a fellow on a plane. A legit fellow that I am willing to go on the record with. How did this happen? Let me back up and take you from where I was to where I am.
The week prior to this trip, I was sitting with Johanna having a drink and dinner. We were both depressed and singing "mirror in the sky, what is love?!" Between our lyrical shenanigans, we discussed how exhausted we were from dating a bunch of no potential suitors. Worse than disappointing dates, we were both dreading the work that comes with building a relationship. You have to bare your soul, listen as someone else bare theirs, pick up their baggage... I mean, like I said: EXHAUSTING.
Not only is dating exhausting and disappointing, it's confusing. There are so many rules! Having read "He's Just Not That Into You", Johanna and I try to follow the "don't call him/let him call you" rule, but the crappy part is when you have a decent time with someone and then they follow the "Bro Code" which was explained to me by a male friend as "the 72 hours after a date where you are not to call the lady because you don't want to appear desperate." Like I said, confusing. So young ladies like myself sit at home waiting by the telephone wondering if a suitor will call, or not call. That night, Johanna and I had decided we were not waiting by the phone anymore. We were swearing off serious love because clearly it didn't exist in our world.
Fast forward to me on this plane with a guy from Montana (who shall be referred to as Montana from here on out). We spent the two hours of the flight wrapped up in easy conversation. One thing led to another, and we spent twelve hours traipsing through shore and forest, eating ice cream, watching a film, and discussing particulars in a Portland park. With him, it is so easy. There is no exhaustion whatsoever, and it feels natural and right.
I am scared because it hasn't been that long since my marriage dissolved, but I sense that passing this up would be a terrible mistake. So here I go again, believing in Beauty, Truth, and Love as the Bohemians do in Moulin Rouge. I may get hurt, and my heart may end up even more tattered and bruised, but for him, it's a risk I'm willing to take. :)