I havn't added any updates lately as I have been desperatly trying to clean up all the icky but refreshingly bold mess that I've stepped in. I was so safe and comfortable in my relationship with Poodle that I overlooked the importance of being able to touch and kiss and hold somebody close. When we were together in bed or on the couch, I thought it was normal to not want him breathing too close to my ear or not being able to stand the pressure of his sweaty palm against my skin all night. It wasn't until Buck moved in next door that I realized I might be missing something. Poodle always liked to tease me, saying that if I ever found a cowboy to take me two-steppin' and who enjoyed quiet evenings outside under the stars in the bed of his truck, then I was allowed to call it quits and run off with Mr. Fantasy. So I never bothered to look. It was only a fantasy for me and a joke for Poodle.
It wasn't long after Buck moved in that we began hanging out together at the pool, loading a cooler of beer into the back of his truck with his friend Denver teetering on the tailgate. And pretty soon it was just Buck and I soaking in the pool after work for two or three hours until 9 o'clock rolled around and we headed back home. In these first few weeks I found out that Buck and I shared a favorite movie, Fried Green Tomatoes, which we watched one night in his apartment. And he wasn't foolin', I tested him by asking what was going to happen next, and he could practically narrate the entire movie. This guy has dead animals that he shot stuffed and lying around his apartment, including a couple deer and some wierd fowl. He has an F150 and two harleys in his garage, one which he is repairing. Oh yeah, he's a machinist and guarantees me that he could fix my truck if anything happened to it.
Buck was out of town at the Lonestar Rally the weekend of Father's Day, and that Saturday was the night that I broke it off with Poodle, claiming that the long distance was just too hard and that I believed we didn't have much in common. I thought it should have hurt a bit more and I feel a little guilty for only losing one night of sleep. I made myself skip breakfast the next morning just to be fair. Seven years. Seven years that I have been with one guy and didn't cheat. I don't regret anything about my relationship with Poodle, I had a great time and I have many wonderful memories. And I'm better because of him.
Sunday night Buck came back from Austin, alittle red from the ride back on his bike. He called me and asked me to go with him to a BBQ buffet down the road a bit. On the ride over I asked him all that had happened, then he asked me what I did. "Poodle and I broke up." And that was pretty much the hot topic for the night. That was the night that we watched Fried Green Tomatoes, and no, he didn't put a move on me. I enjoyed that night with him. The next day we soaked in the pool till about 9, and I began trembling and shaking from not eating too much that day, as the stress of the break up finally hit me and I had lost my appetite. He took me by Whataburger and bought dinner which we brought back to his apartment. Only after I ate my last chicken finger did he look over and ask, "Can I kiss you?" and my entire body melted into his couch. Long story short, I spent the night. I know, I think I broke a lot of rules, but it felt so good. He had an arm around me all night, and I never thought I would ever enjoy being so close to somebody.
I'll share more later.
